Three days after Ageha Ikuse's funeral, Kaminari village pulsed again with its quiet life. The rice fields remained green, roosters still crowed in the morning, and thin mist still shrouded the trees at dawn.
The world kept turning, uncaring that one wooden hut at the end of the road was now inhabited by only one person.
Tobio didn't leave the house.
His room curtains were always tightly closed. The front door was never heard opening. From a distance, the old house looked abandoned—as if Ageha had taken the life force of the house with her into her grave.
Sae watched from across the road every morning.
The first day, she thought Tobio just needed time alone. The second day, anxiety began to gnaw at her heart. The third day, she could no longer stay still.
That morning, the sun had just risen as high as a coconut tree. Sae stood at her mother Yuna's kitchen door with a small bamboo basket in her hand. Inside were wrapped rice, rolled omelet, and miso soup in a small thermos—a warm breakfast made by Yuna.
"Go on, dear," Yuna said from the kitchen window, her face worried. "Poor Tobio, alone in that big house."
Sae nodded, then walked across the path still wet with dew. Her steps felt heavy, not from physical exertion, but from something lodged in her chest.
The house stood silent before her. The bamboo fence in the yard had begun to grow moss. Dried leaves were scattered on the wooden stairs that hadn't been swept for three days.
Sae climbed the stairs one by one. Each step creaked softly, as if mourning the absence of the occupant who usually greeted them every morning.
Knock Knock Knock.
"Tobio, I brought food."
Her voice came out cheerful, trying to hide her worry. But the silence that answered made her smile fade.
She waited. One second. Five seconds. Ten seconds.
Knock Knock Knock.
"Tobio, are you inside?"
No footsteps. No creak of a bedroom door. No "morning, Sae" that usually greeted her.
The anxiety that had only been gnawing now exploded into fear.
Sae tried to open the door. The old wood moved without resistance—unlocked. The door opened with a squeal from its rusty hinges, revealing a dark, cold living room.
The dining table was as she had last seen it at the funeral. The plates Tobio had left after his grandmother's death had probably been moved, but the remaining atmosphere remained the same—empty.
Sae placed the food basket on the wooden table carefully, then her eyes began to scan the room.
"Tobio... where are you?"
Her voice trembled at the end of the sentence.
The living room was empty. The kitchen at the back was also empty. The hallway to Tobio's room was dark, with no light entering because all the curtains were tightly closed.
Sae had never entered Tobio's room before—not because it was forbidden, but because she felt it was a private space that didn't need to be disturbed.
But today was different.
She stepped slowly to the end of the hallway, passing the bedroom door that used to be Ageha's—now empty, the door half-open showing a room without an occupant. And at the very end, Tobio's bedroom door was tightly shut.
Sae reached for the doorknob. The wood was cold in her palm. She took a long breath, then opened the door slowly.
"To—"
Her voice caught in her throat.
Tobio lay on the floor.
He was lying on his side, one hand stretched out to the side, the other on his stomach. His face was deathly pale, and around his eyes—on his cheeks, on his temples, at the corners of his lips—there were dark reddish-black crusts. Dried blood. Blood that had long since dried.
"TOBIO!!"
Sae ran and knelt beside her friend's body. Her hand grabbed Tobio's shoulder, shaking it frantically. Tobio's head lolled limply with the shaking, but his eyes remained closed.
"Tobio! Wake up! Tobio!"
She shook harder. No response. Tobio's breath felt shallow when she brought her face close—still there, but weak. Very weak.
Sae didn't know what to do. Her mind went blank, her chest tightened, tears began to pool in the corners of her eyes.
'Mom. Have to tell Mom.'
She ran out of the room, her foot catching on the doorframe but she didn't feel the pain. She jumped down from the house stairs without using the steps, and ran as fast as she could across the road.
"Mom! MOM!"
Yuna came out of the kitchen with a shocked face. "What's wrong, Sae?"
"Tobio—Tobio fainted—blood on his face—he won't wake up—"
Yuna didn't wait for Sae to finish her sentence. She took off her apron, grabbed her phone on the table, and ran out of the house following her daughter.
Within minutes, they were back at Tobio's house, and Yuna immediately checked the condition of the unconscious boy.
His breathing was still there. Pulse weak but detectable. No open wounds except the dried blood on his face.
"What happened to you, child..." Yuna murmured. She immediately called the village emergency number, asking for help to take Tobio to the nearest clinic.
Sae sat beside Tobio, her hand gripping her friend's cold fingers tightly. Tears flowed silently.
'Don't go, Tobio. Don't leave me too.'
---
Consciousness returned to Tobio like air bubbles rising slowly from the deep ocean floor.
First, he felt his body. Weak. Every muscle felt like it had been soaked in molten lead, heavy and powerless. His eyes felt sore, and something was wrapped around his head—bandages, he realized, covering both eyes.
'Where am I?'
Then he opened his perception—not with his physical eyes still covered by bandages, but with something that had become part of him since that night.
The world appeared in a 360-degree circle.
He was in a room. A bed with blue checkered sheets. A small bedside table with a lamp. A wooden wardrobe in the corner.
'My room. At home.'
Tobio sighed inwardly. At least he survived. That night—the night he forced his will upon his grandmother's keepsake bracelet—had nearly cost him everything.
But then he realized one much bigger problem.
His eyes were covered with bandages. His eyelids were tightly shut. Yet he could still see.
Not seeing with his eyes—that was clear. This was his new vision, the ability he had bought at too high a price. And this ability had no off switch.
'Every moment. Every second. I see.'
Information flowed ceaselessly into his brain. Every movement of energy particles in the air, every thin silvery stream of light symbolizing life, every dimensional vibration pulsing around the room. All of it came in, all of it was processed, all of it was seen.
Like a CCTV camera monitoring 360 degrees for 24 full hours, without pause, without rest.
Impossible to sleep. That realization hit him like a cold wave.
If he remained conscious, his brain would never rest. The only way to "sleep" would be to faint—losing consciousness forcibly due to extreme exhaustion.
He imagined the nights ahead. Lying in bed with eyes closed, but still seeing. Hearing his own heartbeat, seeing blood flow through his veins, watching the energy around him move slowly. No darkness.
No visual silence. Only the world constantly being seen.
'Is this permanent?'
In this house... there might still be some artifacts that could help him.
He wasn't sure. But he had to try. Because if not, his body would break down from within. A brain working non-stop would destroy everything.
This was one of the risks beyond his prediction.
No off switch for this vision.
Slowly, with movements unsteady like a child just learning to walk, he stood up.
His legs wobbled. The world in his perception swayed too—the 360-degree room spun for a moment before stabilizing. He endured the dizziness that almost made him fall, then stepped one by one towards the window.
His hand groped along the wall until he found the window frame. He pushed. The morning wind immediately hit him—cold, fresh, carrying the scent of wet earth and young leaves. His messy hair blew in the wind, and for a moment, he let that wind wash over his face.
'Still alive. Still here.'
'But for how much longer?'
The bedroom door opened.
Sae entered with slow steps, as if afraid to disturb. She had knocked earlier, but Tobio hadn't heard—or maybe he had heard, but was too busy with the lingering dizziness.
"I'm coming in."
Sae's voice was soft, but there was a worry she couldn't hide.
And there, beside the open window, Tobio stood. An undershirt hanging loose, hair disheveled, and white bandages wrapped around his head. The morning wind made his shirt flutter slightly, and under the incoming sunlight, he looked fragile—fragile like wet paper ready to crumble if touched.
Sae walked closer. She could see how hard it was for Tobio to stand upright. Her friend's legs trembled slightly under his own body weight.
"Tobio!!" Her voice rose half an octave, a mix of relief and anger. "Are you okay? Why didn't you say anything?"
Tobio didn't answer immediately. He stood still, facing Sae's direction even though his eyes were covered with bandages. Then, slowly, his hand lifted.
His cold palm touched the top of Sae's head, then moved to the back, stroking her hair gently—a familiar gesture, the gesture he used to do when they were little and Sae cried after falling off her bike.
"Sorry." His voice was hoarse, like someone who hadn't spoken for days. "I think I pushed myself too hard... and made you worry."
Sae bit her lower lip. She tried to hold back, but the tears still fell. Not from anger, not from fear. But from relief—relief so great it made her chest tight.
"What did you do to end up like this?" She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, but the tears kept coming.
"You still remember our promise, right? That you'd tell me someday?"
Tobio sighed. A few months ago—or maybe more, time felt blurred—Sae had said that he had changed.
After that incident of falling from the tree, after... something happened to him that changed the way he saw the world. Sae, with her sharp instincts, had immediately sensed the change. That Tobio had become quieter, kept more secrets.
And Sae, with her unwavering loyalty, had only said: "If you're not ready to tell, it's okay. But promise, someday you'll tell me."
And Tobio had promised.
"I can't tell you now."
Sae immediately looked up. Her face was wet, but her eyes burned. "Why? We've known each other so long! And you're hiding something!"
Tears flowed again, but this time not from sadness—this was from frustration. Frustration at seeing her friend hurt, nearly dead, and not knowing what had really happened.
Tobio lowered his hand from Sae's hair. He stood still for a moment, feeling the weight of the words he had to say.
"When I'm older, I'll explain everything." His voice was soft, but each word was chosen carefully.
"Telling you now... would be hard to understand. And..." He paused. His fingers clenched at his sides. "And I have a selfish wish."
A selfish wish. The same words he had spoken on the night he broke his grandmother's bracelet.
The wish to not lose anyone again. The wish to ensure the world remained intact. The wish that paid with a breaking body.
Sae wiped her tears with her sleeve. Her face was still red, her eyes still puffy, but there was a resolve there—a resolve that reminded Tobio why he had trusted this girl since their first meeting.
"Alright." Her voice trembled, but she tried to be firm. "I'll wait until it's time. But..." She grabbed Tobio's hand, gripping it tightly. "Don't push yourself too hard. Don't hurt yourself anymore."
Tobio didn't answer, but his grip back was enough.
"Chiba City isn't too far from here," Sae continued. "Maybe a doctor there can help heal your eyes. Because I saw the condition... your eyes were bleeding. I gave first aid immediately and didn't open your eyes."
Tobio nodded slowly. A doctor. Yes, maybe that was the right step—at least to show that something was wrong with his eyes, so people wouldn't ask too many questions. He didn't expect much. A doctor wouldn't be able to explain what had happened to him.
But at least, he could make Sae and her mother feel at ease.
"Okay. Let's go to the doctor."