[Mombasa – Early Morning | Community School]
Dhalik missed the first question.
It wasn't a hard one.
He just… didn't hear it.
"Dhalik?"
He blinked, looking up.
The class was already quiet.
Waiting.
"…Sorry."
A few students snickered under their breath.
The teacher watched him for a second longer than usual.
Then moved on.
That should've been it.
But it wasn't.
Because it kept happening.
Small things.
A question repeated.
A page skipped.
A moment where he realized—
he hadn't been paying attention at all.
Not because he didn't care.
Because his mind kept drifting somewhere else.
Lines.
Patterns.
Timing.
Even now—
as the teacher wrote something on the board—
he wasn't reading the words.
He was watching the pause before the chalk touched.
"…Focus," he muttered to himself.
It didn't fully work.
Break time felt louder than usual.
Too many voices.
Too many movements.
Dhalik sat on the edge of the yard, notebook resting loosely in his hands.
He wasn't writing.
Just flipping pages.
Looking at the last entries.
Two trades.
Both successful.
But the second one—
that dip stayed in his mind.
"…That could've gone wrong."
"Talking to yourself again?"
He glanced up.
The same girl stood a few steps away, arms crossed lightly.
"…Sometimes."
She didn't move closer.
Just watched him.
"You look tired."
"…I'm fine."
She didn't argue.
But she didn't believe him either.
"…You keep staring at that thing like it's going to answer you."
Dhalik looked down at the notebook.
"…Maybe it will."
That made her frown slightly.
"That's weird."
"…Yeah."
No denial.
That caught her off guard.
She hesitated, then shrugged slightly.
"…Just don't fall asleep in class again."
She walked off before he could respond.
Dhalik watched her go.
"…I didn't fall asleep," he muttered.
But it felt close.
That afternoon—
Msemo noticed.
Not the obvious things.
The small ones.
The way Dhalik slowed before answering.
The way his eyes moved—not randomly, but tracking something unseen.
And the pauses.
Too many pauses.
They walked together along the inner path of the community.
"You're distracted."
Dhalik didn't deny it.
"…A bit."
"That's new."
"…Not really."
Msemo glanced at him.
"…No. It is."
That tone made Dhalik look up.
"Before, you were reacting," Msemo continued. "Now you're somewhere else half the time."
That landed.
Dhalik exhaled slowly.
"…I'm thinking."
"Too much."
"…Maybe."
A short silence followed.
Then—
"…It's not as simple as I thought," Dhalik admitted.
That was new.
Msemo nodded slightly.
"Good."
Dhalik frowned.
"…Good?"
"Means you're not getting comfortable."
That made sense.
But it didn't feel good.
At home—
the TV stayed off.
That was his mother's decision.
"We're not doing anything today," she said firmly.
Dhalik didn't argue.
That surprised her.
"…You agree?"
He shrugged slightly.
"…I need to think."
That answer felt… older than it should.
She studied him for a moment.
"…You're still going to school properly tomorrow."
"…I know."
A pause.
"…And you're not skipping again."
"…I won't."
He meant it.
But even as he said it—
his mind drifted again.
That night—
Ryoumu sat in a quiet room, far from the community.
Not in Kenya.
A different location.
One of many.
A laptop open in front of him.
Nothing flashy.
No direct access.
Just information gathered slowly.
Fragments.
A company structure.
Employee records.
Project assignments.
Madam Kali appeared where expected.
Consistent.
Reliable.
Nothing unusual.
That was the point.
Because the change hadn't come from her.
It came from proximity.
His fingers tapped lightly against the table.
"…The son."
No records worth noting.
School.
Basic information.
Normal.
Too normal.
That made him pause.
Because patterns didn't emerge from nothing.
They formed.
Over time.
Or through influence.
His gaze shifted slightly.
"…Which one are you?"
The question wasn't meant to be answered.
Not yet.
Back in his room—
Dhalik sat in the dark.
No TV.
No notebook open.
Just sitting.
Trying to clear his head.
It didn't work.
The patterns didn't stop just because he looked away.
They showed up in everything now.
Even silence.
"…This is getting annoying," he muttered.
That was new.
Not fear.
Not curiosity.
Frustration.
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"…I can't keep doing this all the time."
Because if he did—
he'd lose something else.
School.
Focus.
Normal things.
Things that mattered.
For a moment—
he considered stopping.
Just stopping everything.
No more watching.
No more trying.
Just… normal.
The thought stayed longer than expected.
Then—
faded.
Not because it wasn't possible.
But because he already knew—
he wouldn't.
Outside—
the street was quiet again.
No one watching.
No one standing in the dark.
Nothing unusual.
But the absence felt different now.
Because once something had been there—
you didn't forget it.
And even when it was gone—
part of you kept looking.
Waiting.
For it to come back.
To be continued…