Prologue: The Cold Awakening
Toma Kisaragi wakes up with a gasp, blinded by glow panels, the taste of iron in his mouth. His hands tremble, and the air is thick. He knows this isn’t his room. Something twists inside him. How did you sleep last night, would you remember every minute?
The space around him is empty, only a single chair and old mirror facing the bed. There’s a crack in the glass — wide at the edge. The walls seem to move sometimes; shadows play where no one stands.
Akari, his missing sister, is all that fills his head. Tears stain his notebook. “I’ll fix it,” he says to no one.
The Set-Up: Notes in the Walls
Toma hears a voice behind the thin steel. He almost calls out, but it sounds just like Akari at first. He slows his breath. “You left me here.” The words linger even as he checks the silent hall.
Pausing at the door marked G5, he scratches more words in his pad: No one is real.
Meeting Rei and the Contradiction
Rei, dark hair, bandages tight on her wrist, knocks three times. “Toma. We don’t open the doors. Even if you try tonight, I’ll stop you.” She’s firm as she takes the chair. Toma swallows his reply. Every rule is a brick in his wall of fear.
Late in the day, he traces a fingerprint on the glass. It starts to bleed past midnight, and his echo in the mirror doesn’t match his moves.
Stains That Weep
They hear knocks at 3:12 a.m. Something handwritten appears under their door each hour, words smudged in black marker: She’s woken up and Whose eyes do you trust?
Rei weeps but won’t tell Toma why. “If no one opens the door, we last a day. Two days, if you have tea.” The sentences don’t make sense yet they feel right.
The Decay
Toma loses time; hours vanish. Did he eat this morning? Rei’s voice slips in sideways, not quite her pitch.
The door pulses behind his back. The old mirror starts to fog, showing shifting forms. Someone — or something — slaps wet handprints on the glass. Are these his? Or hers? When did you last check the walls for hidden holes?
The First Opening
Soon, out of sleep, Toma hears Akari’s singing, but it stutters. His heart seizes as he nears the knob. Rei stops him — her face wide with true fear.
“Who says that’s her? She drowned here. You drowned with her—don’t trust the room,” she snaps. Toma pushes her off. The mirror flickers. Wet stains slide downward, pooling on the floor.
The marks spell a word he can’t make out.
Memory Drift
Each night Toma draws floor plans. None match next morning — doors seal, mirrors warp. Staticky voices rise: “Trade your memory. Set us out.” Every surface feels cold as sleep.
Is it fear that keeps Toma there, or guilt? Rei shares pills by the mouthful. “They turn secrets to sound.” She rocks back, grinding teeth until her lips bleed.
Development: Ties That Choke
Toma fights sleep, counting breath, feeling the gaze from glass. Through half-lid eyes, Akari’s shadow flickers behind the curtain — blue like the sea, high like her sighs. But she’s not what he hopes. Her mouth opens, teeth sharp. “Will you let me out tonight?”
The Wall Bleeds
Toma hammers the wall to escape. Black water leaks. Rei’s screams join. Lights flicker low. Figures dart in old, bent poses.
Panic seizes him. He watches as the room greyshifts — it’s too quiet. Akari appears for half a heartbeat in the glass; her smile is all wrong from end to end.
How would you react? Could you reach through glass for the one you love, even if she’s wrong?
Cliffhanger: The Door Opens
Before dawn breaks, there’s stillness. The door unlocks of its own. Toma steps closer, gripping the chair for weight. Rei cries, clutching his arm so hard she leaves a mark. Akari’s voice returns, softer. The open door shows a corridor filled with mirrors — all claim Toma by a different name.
He steps forward, past Rei, and the door slams shut on her scream. Darkness swallows his sight. Something holds his hand from the gloom: “Wake up.”
