Yoshiki had never known fear—not like this. Not the kind that clutches your lungs, makes your heartbeat a violent, frantic rhythm in your chest, and turns every breath into a struggle between hope and despair. The worst thing he could have ever imagined—worse than any nightmare—had unfolded just days ago, when his best friend, Hikaru, vanished into the cold wilderness of the mountain that loomed just beyond their quiet town.

The hours that followed were a descent into terror. He ran, stumbled, and clawed his way through the dark, twisting trails of the mountain, calling out Hikaru's name until his voice cracked. Each path he took seemed to lead nowhere, his flashlight flickering weakly in trembling hands, barely slicing through the thick veil of fog and shadow. Every step was laced with desperation, the kind that gnaws at your soul and leaves you hollow.

That mountain—tall, silent, timeless—had always stood like a myth on the edge of their sleepy town. It watched them grow up. It held secrets in its roots. And it swallowed Hikaru without a sound.

And then—just when his strength was fraying, and hope had become a whisper—he saw him. Hikaru lay motionless on the frozen ground, an orange jacket wrapped around him like a last fragile defense against the cold. His eyes were barely open, glassy and distant, devoid of life. His chest rose only faintly, a shallow imitation of breath. Yoshiki's heart erupted with emotion at the sight, a wild blend of relief and dread.

He shook him. The wind didn't care. The earth didn't move. The world simply... watched.

And in that moment, time fractured.

Yoshiki couldn't accept it. Couldn't accept that the boy he laughed with, fought with, grew up with—was gone. Not when there were still so many memories left to make. Not when his heart still beat like a war drum for him. The ambulance arrived too late. It always would have.

That night, something inside Yoshiki died alongside Hikaru. But mourning was not meant to last.

Because the next morning, as the fog lifted from the mountain and the town yawned into another gray day—Yoshiki saw him.

Hikaru, standing at the edge of the school courtyard like nothing had happened. Smiling that familiar, sunlit smile. Wearing the same clothes, the same carefree posture, with the same spark in his eyes. As if the mountain had never taken him. As if death had politely stepped aside.

Yoshiki wanted to run to him, to wrap his arms around him and never let go—but something stopped him. A flicker. A quiet, invisible shift. He couldn't name it, but he felt it. Like a subtle wrongness humming beneath the surface. Still, his heart overruled his fear. And so, he let it go.

He let himself believe.

They began to live together day by day as always; between laughter, playful smiles, the mocking faces of Hikaru, but even though everything looked technically the same, he felt something...he felt uncertainty...discomfort at the thought that that person wasn't his best friend. There was something so disconcertingly strange about him, although he didn't know what exactly.