The train ticket was still in his pocket.
Kaito checked for the third time that morning, fingers brushing the smooth, heat-printed paper like it might vanish if he didn't hold onto it. He hadn't even packed yet. Just bought it. One-way. No seat reservation.
Departure: 05:28 AM. Platform 12.
Two days from now.
That left time to prepare—or to back out.
He didn't own any gear.
No boots. No gloves. Nothing protective. The closest thing he had was an old windbreaker hanging behind the bedroom door, one sleeve torn and sun-bleached.
He took it anyway.
His bag—just a worn school satchel—sat open on the floor. He stared at it for almost ten minutes before placing the first item inside: a pack of adhesive bandages. Then a flashlight. Then a cheap portable battery.
Each item felt like a commitment.
Not to survival.
To the idea that he was going to do this.
Alone.
The rift was real. He'd double-checked the forum threads. Several comments now mentioned the same thing: a faint pull in the air, like static behind your teeth. No system alert yet. No patrols.
Kiso Valley was quiet.
And something was waiting.
Not calling. Not urging.
Just there.
He kept his head low that afternoon as he wandered through the outdoor market two stations away from home.
He wasn't sure what kind of food was good for "possibly dying in a rift."
He settled for onigiri, protein bars, and two bottles of sports drink. Aiko's voice echoed in his head—"That's not real hydration,"—but he ignored it.
The man at the hardware stall gave him a look when he bought a utility knife and cheap gloves.
"Camping?" the man asked, not unkindly.
Kaito nodded. "Yeah."
"Alone?"
A pause.
"Yeah."
The man just grunted. "Watch for bears."
Back at the apartment, Aiko was in the living room, half-asleep on the couch, a math workbook spread across her stomach.
Kaito slipped past her silently and headed into the bathroom, where he ran the water and stared at his reflection in the mirror.
It still didn't feel like him.
The eyes were too sharp, the skin a little too pale. He touched the edge of his jaw and felt nothing.
He didn't know what he used to look like. But this wasn't it.
Later, while making tea, their mom asked casually, "You heading anywhere this weekend?"
Kaito blinked.
His hand on the kettle paused just a second too long.
"I thought I might go check out that bookstore in Nagano," he said. "The one with the secondhand manga section."
His mother hummed. "That far?"
"Train's cheap if you go early."
"You'll be back by evening?"
He nodded.
"Take your phone this time. And text if you're running late."
He smiled. "Got it."
A lie, smooth and practiced.
And for a moment, he hated how easy it was.
That night, he opened the window and sat on the sill, feet pressed to the edge of the frame.
The city below was quiet.
No distant sirens. No rumble of trains. Just the occasional soft hum of a streetlamp flickering to life.
His system hadn't changed.
[ SYSTEM CORE CALIBRATION: 11% ][ ABILITY TRACE: THREADSENSE – STABLE ][ STATUS: HOLLOW ]
But something felt different in the air.
Like the thread from last night had extended, pulling—just slightly—toward the mountains.
Kaito didn't know what he'd find out there.
But he knew what he'd leave behind.
Not out of anger. Not because he wanted to disappear.
Just… because he needed to be useful.
For Aiko. For their mother.
For the life they gave him.
Even if it wasn't really his.
He tested the knife once before going to sleep, unfolding the blade and watching the light bounce along its edge.
It felt awkward in his hand.
He'd never fought before. Never learned to swing or strike.
But he didn't flinch at the weight of it.
Didn't flinch at the idea of needing it.
That was the part that scared him the most.
The day before departure, Aiko caught him doing laundry.
She stared at the pile of outdoor clothes and frowned. "Since when do you hike?"
Kaito shrugged. "Thought I'd try."
She crossed her arms.
"You okay?"
He hesitated. Then nodded. "I think so."
"Your sketchbook's still on the desk," she said. "You haven't opened it again."
"I don't think I know how to draw anymore."
A pause.
Then she said, "You don't have to force anything. Just… tell me if something feels off, okay?"
He smiled.
"Nothing's off."
Another lie.
That night, he packed everything into his old bag and placed it next to the door. Inside: food, gloves, knife, flashlight, hoodie, and the burner phone.
He stood for a long time, staring at the handle.
He could still change his mind.
Still pretend none of this existed.
But then the system pulsed quietly.
[ DUNGEON PROXIMITY: TRACE DETECTED ][ EST. LOCATION: KISO VALLEY REGION ][ THREADSENSE REACTIVATED ]
He closed his eyes.
And whispered:
"I'm coming."