The morning rush hour in Neo Ashford was a river of suits and uniforms. People flowed along the sidewalks. They held coffee cups. They checked watches. They talked on phones. The sun was bright. The sky was blue. It looked like a perfect Tuesday. Kaito walked against the current. He moved slowly. His eyes scanned the buildings. He did not see the shops. He did not see the signs. He saw the seams. The reality stitches were fraying. He counted them as he walked. One near the bakery. Two by the subway entrance. Three above the convenience store. Four in the alley behind the bank. Five near the park. Six at the school gate. Seven in the Grey District.
Seven active cracks. All within walking distance. All invisible to the crowd. A woman bumped into him. She dropped her phone. She apologized. She picked it up. She walked away. She did not see the shimmer behind her. It looked like heat haze. It sounded like tinnitus. She heard nothing. She saw nothing. She was safe because she was blind.
