The street seemed alive.
Not loud in a chaotic way, but full—of color, of warmth, of small movements that overlapped and blended into something vibrant. Narrow lanes stretched ahead, lined with wooden shops, hanging lanterns, and displays that spilled out onto the path like invitations no one intended to refuse.
"This is your group exploration time," a teacher announced, standing at the edge of the street as students gathered around. "You can move freely, explore the area, but stay in your groups. Don't wander too far, and don't get lost."
A pause.
"We regroup later. Until then—enjoy."
That was all it took.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
"Ohh… finally," Minato stretched his arms with exaggerated relief, "we can roam around freely."
"Hmmm… hmm," Hitori responded, noncommittal as ever.
Around them, excitement sparked like scattered embers catching fire. Students moved in clusters, already pointing at shops, pulling each other toward food stalls, laughter rising in quick bursts.
"Let's go, warriors!" Minato declared, stepping forward like he was leading an army. "We will loot the entire area."
"Don't say that out loud," Hitori said flatly. "We'll look more like thieves than warriors."
A beat.
Then laughter broke out among them, light and easy.
And just like that, they moved.
The streets welcomed them without hesitation.
Warm steam rose from food stalls, carrying the scent of grilled snacks and sweet batter through the cold air. Shopkeepers called out softly, not aggressively, but with practiced ease. Small trinkets, charms, and handmade goods filled the displays, each one more detailed than the last.
Minato was already distracted.
"Food first," he said with absolute certainty. "Everything else later."
They drifted from stall to stall, buying more than they needed, tasting everything they could, laughing over choices that ranged from surprisingly good to questionably edible.
Hitori followed, quieter than the rest, his attention wandering beyond the obvious.
And then—
he stopped.
It wasn't sudden enough to be noticed.
Just a slight pause.
A shift.
Something had caught his eye.
Across the street, behind a glass display, something rested in stillness. It wasn't large. It wasn't loud. But it held a kind of quiet presence that pulled at him without explanation.
He stepped closer.
The voices behind him blurred.
Laughter, conversation, footsteps—all of it softened, fading into the background as his focus narrowed. He didn't notice when the others kept walking. Didn't notice the distance growing.
For a moment, there was only that small shop window.
And the reflection staring back at him.
"Hey."
The voice broke through gently.
"What are you doing here all alone?"
Hitori blinked.
The world returned in fragments—sound, movement, the cold air brushing against his face. He turned slightly.
"…Huh?"
Then recognition settled.
"Oh. It's you."
"The girl from back then who fall at m—"
She smiled faintly. "Yeah. It's me. I forgot to tell you my name last time . I am Miya Aizawa. Same year as you."
He nodded once. "Shin Hitori."
"I know," she said lightly. "In fact, the whole school knows."
"But what do you mean by 'alone'?" he asked. "I'm with my friends."
Aizawa tilted her head.
"…Then where are they?"
Hitori turned.
The street stretched behind him.
Crowded.
Moving.
But empty of anything familiar.
He paused.
"…Ah," he said quietly. "Wow."
A breath left him, almost amused.
"I'm really all alone."
Aizawa laughed, the sound soft but genuine. "Not anymore."
He exhaled, a faint smile forming despite himself.
"Guess not."
"So," she said, shifting slightly, "how did you get separated?"
"I think…" He glanced back toward the shop window. "I stopped to look at something. Didn't notice the rest leaving."
"They'll probably come back for you."
"Yeah," he said. "They will."
A brief silence settled between them, comfortable enough not to feel forced.
Then she spoke again.
"Well… until they do," she said, "why don't we look around?"
"Sure."
Time moved differently after that.
They walked through the streets together, not hurried, not aimless either. Shops blurred into one another, each offering something small and interesting. They stopped where they felt like stopping. Tried what looked worth trying.
Warm food against cold air.
Small conversations that didn't need effort.
Occasional laughter that came naturally.
For a while, it was simple.
Easy.
Until—
"Hitori!"
The voice cut through the crowd, loud and urgent.
Both of them turned.
Minato appeared from between the moving bodies, slightly hunched, breathing hard, as if he had been running longer than he should have.
"Hey—hey, relax," Hitori said, stepping forward. "Why are you in such a hurry? What happened?"
Minato didn't answer immediately. He bent forward slightly, catching his breath.
Then—
"Y-your girlfriend got lost," he managed.
Hitori frowned instantly. "She's not my girlfriend.
Whatever,". Hitori's voice tightened. "Where?"
"I don't know," Minato said, frustration creeping in. "We met her friends—they were looking for her. Teachers too. Kei and the others stayed back to help."
Hitori turned sharply, scanning the street again, as if she might appear if he just looked hard enough.
Nothing.
He exhaled once.
Then—
"Sorry," he said, glancing at Aizawa. "I have to go. She's my friend."
Aizawa shook her head slightly. "It's fine. I'll come with you."
He hesitated for half a second.
Then nodded.
"Alright."
The search began quickly.
Too quickly.
Shops. Streets. Corners they had already passed. Paths that led nowhere. Faces that didn't recognize the description.
They moved through it all, asking, looking, hoping for something—anything.
Nothing.
They searched everywhere including Fushimi Inari Taisha and at hotel.
By evening, the energy had drained.
They returned to the hotel with less noise than they had left with.
Teachers gathered quickly. Questions overlapped. Voices rose. Friends of the missing girl stood close together, some already crying, others too stunned to react.
"When did you last see her?"
"At the shrine," one of them answered, voice shaking. "At Fushimi Inari."
Teachers called for police and they arrived and gathered information about tachibana.
Questions were repeated.
Then they left.
To search.
Time stretched.
No one slept.
Whispers filled the spaces between silence. Doors opened and closed. Footsteps echoed down the hallway at odd hours.
Every sound felt louder than it should.
Every second, longer.
It was around 3 a.m. when the doors opened again.
The police had returned.
The teachers gathered immediately.
Students watched from a distance, quiet now, as if instinct told them something had already changed.
One officer spoke.
Low.
Measured.
Careful.
They found a body.
A girl.
At Fushimi Inari Taisha.
For a moment—
nothing moved.
The night, which had already been heavy, seemed to settle even further, pressing down on everything at once.