Juson stepped out of Herik's room without looking back, leaving the strange blue grains resting quietly upon the bedsheet. Even after returning to the hallway, the image refused to leave his thoughts. The colour, the texture, the unfamiliar sense of recognition they had stirred within him all lingered somewhere beyond his reach, as though they belonged to a memory that had been deliberately buried. He couldn't understand why they felt so familiar, nor could he explain why something as insignificant as a handful of coloured sand had unsettled him so deeply. By the time he entered the kitchen, Herik was already sitting quietly on his chair while Yokina continued feeding him spoon by spoon.
The child sat awkwardly, his posture slightly tilted, his attention fixed somewhere beyond the table rather than on the food before him. Yokina noticed Juson entering and called him over without looking particularly concerned. Juson obeyed automatically, though his thoughts remained trapped inside the bedroom he had just left. By then Herik had nearly finished eating. Children his age were usually capable of feeding themselves, yet for reasons neither parent fully understood, he still depended almost entirely on Yokina's help.
Yokina stood after finishing the last spoonful and moved toward the counter to prepare breakfast for Juson. Throughout that brief moment, Juson's eyes never left Herik. The little boy remained seated exactly where he was, staring silently at the tabletop with an expression that seemed unusually distant. It was then that Juson decided he should mention the mark he had discovered earlier. "Yokina," he called quietly. Without turning around, she assumed he was simply asking about breakfast. "I'll bring it in a second," she answered while arranging the dishes. Juson allowed the moment to pass without correcting her.
A few seconds later, she placed a plate in front of him before walking toward the sink to wash the remaining utensils. Juson picked up his spoon but found himself unable to concentrate on eating. The image of the fading blue mark lingered too strongly in his mind. He looked toward Yokina once more. "Yokina." This time she turned slightly. "Did Herik fall somewhere?" he asked. She frowned in confusion. "Fall?" Juson repeated the question more slowly.
"Fallen down?" She immediately shook her head. "No... no." The answer came without hesitation, but something in Juson's expression made her put down the plate she had been holding and walk back toward him. "Why are you asking that?" she asked, concern beginning to replace her earlier calmness.
Juson didn't avoid the question this time. "There's a mark on his neck," he replied quietly. The words immediately drew Yokina's attention. Without another question, she walked over to Herik, gently lifted his chin, and carefully examined his neck. After several moments she looked back toward Juson. "There's nothing." Juson frowned. "Look properly. Near the throat. On the right side." She leaned closer and checked again, tracing her fingers gently across the skin exactly where Juson had indicated. Once more she found nothing unusual. "It's normal," she insisted. Unable to believe what he was hearing, Juson stood and joined them.
The moment his eyes settled upon Herik's neck, his expression froze. The blue mark was still there... but only barely. It had faded considerably within the short time since he had seen it in the bathroom, shrinking back into the skin as though it had never existed. He leaned closer, staring in disbelief while Yokina quietly stepped back. "I stay with him all day," she said softly. "He never fell anywhere." Juson remained silent. No explanation came to him.
After a long pause he finally spoke. "I have to go to school. Take him to a doctor... and call me from there." Yokina nodded without argument. She gently adjusted Herik's shirt while Juson stood watching for another brief moment, convinced that something about his son had changed in ways neither of them yet understood. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the kitchen.
Outside, the morning air felt cooler than before. Juson unlocked the trunk of his car to place his school bag inside. The moment the lid lifted, a thick layer of dust covering the interior caught his attention. It looked as though nobody had cleaned it for months. He frowned briefly before lowering the trunk again. Yet just before closing it completely, something hidden within the corner drew his eye. A bundle of old papers rested beneath the dust, their edges torn and yellowed with age. Juson paused. For an instant, an unfamiliar sensation passed through him, almost as though something inside his mind had clicked into place. Without acting on the impulse, he shut the trunk and climbed into the driver's seat.
Music began playing softly as he drove toward the school, changing tracks absentmindedly while the strange feeling continued following him. When he finally arrived, he stepped out of the car and stood looking up at the school building before turning back toward the trunk once again. This time he opened it deliberately and pulled out the forgotten bundle. Dust covered every page so heavily that the writing beneath was almost invisible. He brushed the surface gently with his fingers until a few words emerged from beneath the dirt. Attempt 4 : Itagawa.
The remaining letters stayed hidden beneath the dust. Juson stared at them without recognition. He couldn't remember where the papers had come from, yet deep inside he felt certain they belonged to him. One by one he flipped through the pages. The writing made almost no sense. Sentences were broken apart, words separated by slashes, entire passages incomplete. It felt less like reading notes and more like looking at fragments of something deliberately destroyed.
He remained standing beside the open trunk, absorbed completely, until the distant ringing of the school bell finally snapped him back to reality. Nearly ten minutes had disappeared without him noticing. Already late, he carelessly tossed the scattered pages back into the trunk, grabbed his bag, shut the lid, and hurried through the school gate. Within moments, he disappeared into the corridor, leaving both the papers and the unanswered questions behind him.