Back in the Sutori home, Niche, panting, goes up to his room. Walking inside, he puts his stuff down and sits in his chair.

  His phone buzzes. Text from Maruka: "coming over at 6"

  He stares at the message.

  Right. Normal life. Get back into it.

  Another buzz: "so confused on this calc homework lol”

  Niche glances at the clock. 5:47 PM.

  Grunting out of his chair, he goes to the bathroom mirror and looks at his eyes. Mainly normal, but still a faint hint of activity.

  “Shit. She can’t see me like this.”

  Splashing his face with water, his eyes fade back to its normal color as the main entrance door opens.

  Footsteps approach the top of the stairs when he hears a familiar voice. Niche manages to dry his face off and go back to his chair as his room door opens.

  "Hey." Maruka's at the door frame with her backpack, looking tired.

  "Hey." Niche gets up to let her sit down, hoping his voice sounds normal. His heart's still pounding, but he forces his breathing to steady.

  She sits down on the chair, her backpack still resting on her back.

  “Dude…sit down,” she says halfheartedly.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “So, what’s new lately? Anything happen?”

  “Nothing much.”

  She dumps her bag on the floor and pulls out her calculus textbook. "Alright. So, about the calculus homework. Did you understand that lesson today? I have some questions about it."

  "Yeah, sure." He sits across from her, grateful for something concrete to focus on. Numbers don't float in mid-air. Math follows rules.

  "You okay?" She's studying his face. "You look kind of pale."

  "Just tired. Long day." He opens her textbook, finds the problem set. "What do you need help with?"

  Niche sits at his desk, about to help Maruka with calculus homework. He opens his drawer to get a calculator.

  There's that sword.

  Flashback – Niche’s Room, One Week Ago

  Crash downstairs. Niche's dad stumbles into his room, reeking of alcohol.

  "Niche. My boy." He's swaying, holding a sword like it's a baseball bat. "Found this. Was in my car. Why was it in my car?"

  "Dad, you're drunk."

  His father laughs, setting the sword on Niche's desk. Almost knocks over a lamp. "But this... this told me to bring it to you. Swords don't talk, right?"

  "Dad—"

  "It says it'll protect you. From the..." He waves vaguely. "The thing." He leans in close, whiskey breath overwhelming. "Follow what it tells you, okay? Even if it's annoying."

  "You need to go to bed."

  His dad pats his head, misses, pats his shoulder instead. "Love you, kid."

  He stumbles out.

  Niche’s Room, Present

  "What's with the sword?" Maruka asks, noticing him staring at it.

  "Nothing. Weird gift from my dad." He closes the drawer. "What do you even do with a sword?"

  "Anyways, I don't get how to find the derivative," Maruka asks.

  "It's just these simple rules you gotta follow." Niche points to the rules, not really looking at her. "You see which ones fit and work the problem."

  Maruka stares at him. "That's it? No explanation?"

  "The book explains all of them."

  He slides the textbook toward her, already turning back to his own work.

  "You don't actually care if I understand this, do you?" Maruka says quietly.

  Niche glances up briefly. "Here’s a way you can think of it. All the powers on exponents get multiplied to the coefficient of the term. Then, you subtract one to the power. I’m not exactly sure why, and there’s a few exceptions to that rule, but the shortcut works most of the time."

  “That…make’s sense."

  “Try number one. Guide me through how you would do that question.”

  “Okay.”

  Niche’s Room, One Hour Later

  Maruka starts packing up. "Thanks for the help. I think I understand how to do it now. It’s pretty refreshing finding out about that secret after doing derivatives the long way for so long. You’ve got a lot of secrets, don’t you, Niche? Maybe you could…teach me some more someday.”

  He chuckles awkwardly.

  She continues, “Anyways, this math is making my brain hurt. Think I'm gonna take a walk."

  She's halfway to the door when Niche looks up from his paper. Something about sitting alone with his thoughts feels wrong right now.

  "Wait." He closes his textbook. "Mind if I come with you?"

  Maruka pauses, surprised. "You want to go on a walk? You?"

  "Yeah, I could use some air too."

  She shrugs. "Sure, I guess." She pauses. “Wait. You’re not just saying that because I said I’m going, right? Like, you actually wanna walk?”

  “Why not?”

  Maruka’s face seems to light up with excitement, but she quickly controls her temperament.

  “Alright, that’s fine with me,” Maruka says nonchalantly.

  Residential District Streets, Present

  The late afternoon sun feels good after being cooped up inside. Without really discussing it, they start walking toward the beach - their usual spot when one of them needs to think.

  Beach, Present

  "So," Maruka says as their feet hit the sand, "you gonna tell me what's actually going on with you today?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "You've been weird all afternoon. Like you’re distracted by something.”

  Niche kicks at the sand, watching the waves.

  Part of me wants to tell her about the car, about the impossible moment when physics just... stopped. But how do you explain something like that without sounding crazy?

  "Just had a strange day," he says finally.

  A bit of silence.

  "So, I have this idea for a show," Maruka says, kicking at the sand, trying to change the mood.

  "Yeah?"

  "Okay, so the main character is this girl who works at like, a boring office job. But she starts noticing weird patterns in the spreadsheets she's working on."

  "What kind of patterns?"

  "Like... numbers that spell out coordinates if you convert them. And dates that all connect to historical disasters."

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  "That's actually kind of interesting."

  "Right? So, she thinks her company is involved in some conspiracy. But when she investigates, it turns out the patterns are just her brain making connections that aren't there. Like, the coordinates lead to random parking lots. The dates are just fiscal quarters."

  "Oh, so she's paranoid?"

  "No! That's what everyone thinks. But then weird stuff actually does start happening. Her coworkers start disappearing. But they're not disappearing; they're being replaced by slightly different versions."

  "Different how?"

  "Like her boss who was allergic to peanuts suddenly isn't. Her desk neighbor who was left-handed is now right-handed. Small stuff only she notices."

  "Because she's detail-oriented from the spreadsheet job."

  "Exactly! But here's the thing - she can't tell if it's real or if she's having a breakdown from staring at numbers all day. And the audience wouldn't know either."

  "So, it's ambiguous?"

  "Yeah, like each episode you'd think 'okay this HAS to be real' but then there's a logical explanation. But the explanation is almost TOO convenient."

  "That would be frustrating to watch."

  "Or addicting! Like you'd have to keep watching to figure out the truth."

  "What's the truth?"

  "I don't know yet." She laughs. "That's the problem. I can't figure out a satisfying ending. Like, if it's real, it needs to make sense. If she's having a breakdown, people will feel cheated."

  "Maybe both? Like she is having a breakdown but it's BECAUSE something real is happening?"

  "Oh shit, that could work. Like the stress of noticing real changes makes her paranoid about fake ones too."

  "So she's unreliable but not completely wrong."

  "Yeah! And the company could be doing something mundane but still sinister. Like they're not replacing people, they're just... testing micro-dosing employees with experimental mood stabilizers or something."

  "That's fucked up but believable."

  "Right? Not world-ending conspiracy, just regular corporate evil."

  They walk in silence for a moment.

  "You should write it," Niche says.

  "I can't write."

  "You just pitched me an entire show."

  "That's different. I can't do dialogue and stuff."

  "Your dialogue would probably be people explaining things badly, which would actually make it more realistic."

  "Shut up," she laughs, shoving him lightly.

  "So, what's the actual deal with the project? I heard you were assigned to work with Ryota. How is he? Does he actually do work?" she asks. "What are you guys doing as your topic?"

  Niche picks up a rock, throws it at the waves. "I’ll just do the Meiji Restoration or something."

  "And Ryota?"

  "He offered to help, but I can’t work with people on projects. I’ll probably end up doing most of it and put his name on it."

  "That's kind of messed up. What if we have to present it?"

  "He offered. I'm taking him up on it."

  They walk in silence for a bit. The sun's getting low.

  "So, what’s really going on with you today?" Maruka says.

  Niche chuckles a bit and almost laughs.

  She has no idea.

  "I don’t know. My dad's been stressed about work. It's rubbing off on me."

  "What does your dad actually do? You never talk about it."

  "Government stuff. Boring."

  "Right." She clearly doesn't believe him but drops it. "Want to get food? That ramen place is still open."

  "Can't. Need to get home."

  "It's 6 PM."

  "Family dinner."

  "Okay." Maruka stops walking. "But if something's actually wrong, you'd tell me, right?"

  Niche looks at her.

  "Yeah. Of course."

  She stops walking. "You said that before." "What?" "Last year when u asked me. You said we'd still be friends, that you'd still tell me everything." She kicks at the sand. "But you got weird after."

  "I wasn't weird."

  "You were. You still are sometimes."

  "Maruka—"

  “I'm just saying. Don't shut me out again."

  "Alright,” Niche replies, hesitant about his answer.

  Niche’s shoes, unfit for the sand, now soak the salty sand mixture as the two walk closer to the shoreline.

  “Hey, something weird happened outside school today," he says, testing the waters.

  "Weird how?" She's only half-listening, still walking.

  "A car came at me. Really fast. Then it just... stopped. Mid-air."

  "What do you mean it stopped?"

  "You weren’t there? It felt like the whole school was watching,” Niche asked.

  Oh, right. She was at practice.

  “No, I was busy.”

  Why is she still keeping the secret from me? And how doesn’t she know I’ve figured it out yet? Having a hobby is nothing to be ashamed about, Niche wonders.

  “It was like it hit something invisible,” Niche continues. “Hung there for a second, then dropped.”

  Maruka stops walking now, turns to look at him. "Are you trying to mess with me?"

  "No, I'm serious."

  "Cars don't just float, Niche."

  "I know how it sounds—"

  "It sounds like you hit your head or something," she chuckles, starting to walk again but now studying Niche’s face. "You're actually serious?"

  "Yeah."

  "Okay, so... what? Physics just stopped working for a second?"

  "I don't know. Maybe." He kicks at the sand. "Forget it. It's stupid."

  "I mean…" She looks over at him, barely turning her face to match his unrelenting gaze. "You really saw this?"

  "Yeah."

  "And you're not fucking with me? This isn't like that bird conspiracy thing?"

  "No."

  Long pause. She's still searching his face.

  "Okay. So a car floated. What else?"

  "What do you mean what else?"

  "If physics is breaking, it's probably not just one thing. Has other weird stuff happened?"

  He thinks about the falling objects all day. "Maybe."

  "Maybe? Niche, either reality is breaking or you're having a really specific hallucination. Neither option is great."

  "Thanks for the pep talk."

  "I'm just saying... if you're seeing impossible things, we should probably figure out why. Stress? Exhaustion? That expired milk you insisted was still good?"

  "It wasn't the milk."

  "Sure." She starts walking again. "But seriously, if more weird stuff happens, tell me. We'll make a list or something. Look for patterns."

  "You believe me?"

  "I believe you saw something. What it actually was... we'll figure that out. Later, all right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “See you tomorrow, Niche.”

  Maruka walks away, leaving Niche alone with his soggy shoes and the hushing of the waves.

  I knew that was exactly what she’d say. I don’t know why I was worried about that. She didn’t try to completely accept it blindly but tried to work to an explanation. Somehow that's more comforting than if she'd believed me completely.

  Niche walks home, first with a confident pace but slowly losing effort until he reached his house. Monotonously opening his door, he flops on his bed, exhausted. His cat jumps up, settling on his chest. Niche turns around and sits up to greet his friend.

  "Long day?" Niche mutters, scratching behind her ears.

  The cat purrs, kneading his shirt with her paws. It's weirdly comforting. Like she knows something's wrong.

  "At least you're normal," Niche says. "Just a regular cat doing regular cat things. What do you guys even do during the day?"

  The night came sooner than expected, as Niche noticed how dark it was outside as soon following his mind relinquishing its obsession with Maruka.

  Damn, its dark outside. Might be around 10:30. I should probably be going to sleep soon.

  After getting ready for bed, Niche sits in his bed and eventually falls asleep.

  Dream - Niche’s House, Morning

  Niche's making breakfast downstairs. He is preparing omurice, a difficult egg dish, when he notices the front door is slightly open.

  No one should be out this early. Did I leave that open from last night?

  His heart races. He checks the garage; his dad's car is gone. Way earlier than usual.

  After going back to the kitchen and looking around to decipher a meaning as to the front door’s position, he notices something different this time around.

  Before I went to the garage, the front door was slightly open. Now, its closed, and there’s a slip of paper under. It’s as if someone slipped it under while I was in the other room.

  He moves to the door, now emitting a strange aura he hadn’t noticed before. His hands shake as he picks up the slip of paper expecting threats, ransom demands, or pictures of his father bloodied. Instead, an invitation appears on the other side.

  Elegant cardstock, gold embossed letters:

  "You are cordially invited to dinner. 7 PM. The Rose Garden Restaurant. Look for the red eyes. -J"

  What the fuck?

  Niche stares at it.

  Just... dinner? Maybe from Maruka? No, she wouldn’t invite me like this. And…the red eyes? Also, who the hell is named J? It’s most likely a nickname, but definitely not a friendly one. I gotta be cautious around this guy.

  The Rose Garden Restaurant, Evening

  Niche enters the upscale restaurant, still on edge. Every shadow could be a trap. The hostess doesn't even ask his name, just leads him to a private room in the back.

  A man sits alone at a table set for two. His eyes flash red when he looks up. Niche notices these eyes are actually red.

  Bright red eyes, but also dark. These don’t even look natural.

  "Niche! You came." Boss gestures to the empty chair. "Please, sit. I ordered the tasting menu. Seven courses."

  "Who are you?"

  "Call me Jupiter. Or Boss. Whatever feels natural." He pours wine. "Try this. These grapes were grown in zero gravity."

  Niche sits slowly, ready to jump out of his chair at a moment’s notice. "What do you want?"

  "To talk. To eat. To explain." Boss cuts into his appetizer. "You know, I've been watching you. The others were so dramatic about you. I knew you weren’t a threat, you’re just…”

  He pauses for dramatic effect, but Niche’s irritation gets the better of him.

  "Get to the point,” Niche says, reluctant to entertain this game.

  “You're interesting. And the point?" Boss takes a sip of wine. "I have your father."

  Niche's eyes attempt to morph, but is quickly stopped by Jupiter, noticing this change.

  "Ah ah." Boss wags his finger. "We're in public. Don't make a scene."

  "Where is he?"

  "Safe. Unconscious, but safe. Stored in a place where reality is…different. He won't age, won't starve. Just like a pause." Boss signals the waiter for the next course. "I'm not a monster, Niche. I'm a businessman."

  The main course arrives. Boss cuts into what looks like beef but bleeds gold.

  "Here's my offer,” he continues, unphased by Niche’s temperament. “Tomorrow night, 9 PM, the underground catacombs. You come and we do the extraction properly. Your father goes free with a vow of silence, and he forgets this ever happened."

  "What the hell are you talking about an ‘extraction?’ And what if I refuse this dumb offer? Obviously, you gave yourself a better deal, being a ‘businessman’ and all."

  "Then your father will stay forgotten." Boss's red eyes gleam brighter than Niche thought was possible. "Permanently."

  I won’t let a random stranger put me into ultimatums, Niche thinks.

  The boy lunges across the table, flames erupting from his body, and reaches for Boss's throat.

  You’re growing faster than I expected, Boss thinks. You’ve heard my offer, now decide what your response will be. The move is yours, Nishihara.