They had made it out.
Or so it seemed.
But neither of them knew how, or where they had landed. Kuro took a few shaky steps forward, then everything went black.
There was no scream. No pain. Not even cold.
Just, nothing. A clean break. A severed thread in the reel of thought.
Images fell away from his mind like scattered leaves. Only the fading pulse inside his chest remained, echoing in the hollowness.
The wind still blew. Not hard, but long, like a whisper that drowned out every other sound.
Kuro's vision blurred. And then, darkness swallowed him whole.
Mike ran forward, pulling his backpack over one shoulder, reaching out, but Kuro was already collapsing. Mike only caught the edge of his shirt.
"Don't, damn it, stay with me!"
The wind lashed across his ears, sharp as glass. Cold crawled up his spine.
No bearings. No signals. The forest around them was an uneven patchwork of shadows. The earth trembled faintly beneath their feet. Rocks emerged from the mist like silent witnesses.
Mike clenched his fists. Sweat beaded down his face. His breathing came in gasps.
"No one knows where we are. No one's coming. So now, it's just…"
He stopped.
"Just… whatever happens."
Kuro collapsed fully. His weight pulled Mike down, too.
They lay together, unmoving.
Mike looked up at the sky, seeking anything familiar. A window. A quiet lunch break. Sunlight on a classroom desk. Any memory not from this place.
But it slipped away.
The wind carried it all off. And Mike, finally, let go.
Then: whiteness.
Soundless. Colorless. Shapeless.
Only a sensation. Drifting.
Cold. But not painful.
Light. But not free.
No dreams. No clear images.
Only a pale void, stretching without direction or edge.
Kuro didn't know if he was floating or frozen in place. But the space wasn't empty. On the contrary, it was full. Soft, shifting. Like air mixed with light.
There were no words here.
But he heard something, no, felt it. The quiet rhythm of something not quite matter moving through the space.
Thin streams of light passed through him, warm like bathwater. They curled and brushed against each other, not with sound, but sensation.
A current. Gentle. Cyclical.
Some areas dipped slightly, like hollows. Others shimmered with glints of dust, stars, maybe.
Kuro couldn't see his body, but he knew, this wasn't a dream.
In the center of it all, something pulsed, off-kilter. Not his own rhythm. A different heartbeat, missing its timing.
Not him.
Mike.
Kuro felt him, vague, distant. Emotions tangled: fear, pressure, control,
And then... release.
Kuro did nothing.
But the current around him shifted, spreading outward, gentle, noninvasive.
Like a blanket laid across someone's shivering form.
As if whispering:
"I'm still here."
Kuro didn't know where he was.
But within that blankness, he sensed something, like a long, exhaled breath.
Perhaps Mike's.
Perhaps his own.
He saw nothing. Heard nothing.
He didn't know how long it lasted.
But he remembered the moment he woke, not from any blinding light, nor any sudden noise.
Something tiny had stirred. A breath. An itch in his chest. Like someone had nudged a memory loose inside him.
His eyes opened.
Above, dappled light. Not quite sun. Not quite leaf-glow.
The wind blew gently. Not cold. Not warm.
Just wind. No energy signature. No distortion.
His body felt heavy, buried in layers of dust. Kuro turned his head.
Mike lay beside him, curled. Sweat at his brow. Dirt and grass smudged his cheek. One hand clenched tight around the strap of his backpack.
Even unconscious, he hadn't let go.
Kuro sat up, his hands trembling. Legs unsteady. Muscles sluggish.
But he didn't panic.
Something in the stillness made it all feel… real.
He leaned over, nudged Mike gently. His voice rough, almost a whisper.
"Mike… hey… wake up?"
It took three tries. Then Mike's eyelids twitched.
A faint groan. Head tilted. A long exhale, like someone who had just broken the surface of deep water.
"…We're alive?" His voice cracked.
Kuro nodded.
No smile. Just a breath. Not relief. Just… breath.
They sat together in silence, backs against a tree.
Above them, the sky shimmered, silver, flickering, like a slow-moving reel of film.
When they reached the forest's edge, where the wind returned to its normal rhythm, Mike hesitated.
He glanced at Kuro, about to say something, but pressed his lips shut.
"What if we're not ourselves anymore?"
The thought hovered at the back of his throat. But seeing Kuro still pale, still swaying, he kept walking.
A few minutes later, Mike felt a sting in one nostril.
He wiped it. Blood.
Dark orange. Not much, but real.
He stopped.
Fingers trembled. No pain. No broken capillaries. But something… shifted.
A pressure. A backlash. Some echo of whatever had happened to them.
Kuro turned, concerned.
Mike shook his head.
"I'm fine," he said quietly. "Just… pressure."
But deep down, they both knew,
The pressure wasn't just in the air.
Mike exhaled. "That's enough. Let's go."
Kuro simply nodded.
They stood. Shoulders brushing. Stepping out of the hollow.
Morning breeze cooled their faces. Not cold. Not warm.
They walked in silence, not speaking until they passed the first trees.
Every step weighed with unspoken questions.
After a while, Mike broke the quiet.
"After we blacked out… did you see anything?"
Kuro paused.
"Just… white. Floating. Something was moving around me. I couldn't touch it."
Mike frowned. Took out the device. Scanned it.
"Right before it shut down, signal spikes went off the chart. Not normal at all."
He sighed. "The thing's fried. Circuit's gone. No idea if it even transmitted anything."
Kuro gave him a sideways glance. "Probably not. We spent the whole night lying in open sky, after all."
He hesitated. Then added:
"We'll need to check the backup. Maybe we missed something important."
Mike nodded slowly.
"And after you woke up… did you feel anything strange?"
Kuro shook his head.
"No. Just… white. Then nothing. I remembered everything when it happened. But now? It's like it's all… floating, just out of reach."
They said nothing more.
No one dared speak the words:
"It's over."