Chapter One: A Paper Reality
In a realm not bound by time or space — where existence is etched in ink, and creation begins with language — everything is made from story. Alphabets are atoms, numbers are structure, and words are the breath of all things. It is a place beyond imagination, yet made entirely of it.
And in this place stood a high schooler.
He didn't move. He didn't think. Not because he chose not to — but because he couldn't. He existed only because I, the writer, placed him there.
He was still a shadow, a whisper of intention on the page.
Until one moment...
> "Wake up."
---
Yogiri Saito's eyes cracked open.
The scent of morning dew and city air filled his nostrils. Outside, the world buzzed with the orchestrated chaos of daily life — honking cars, murmured conversations, hurried footsteps on pavement, and the occasional chime of a bicycle bell.
Skyscrapers towered above as the sun spilled golden light across their mirrored surfaces. The streets bustled with office workers, some already deep in conversation.
> "The business trip's this week, right?"
> "Yeah, that's what the chief director said."
One of them — tall, expression drained — tapped away on his phone. (I won't be needing food tonight.)
A message pinged back. (You're staying late again? I'll miss you...)
He smiled faintly — a smile buried beneath fatigue.
Suddenly his eyes widened.
> "Y-You're kidding!!!"
The man's calm shattered as he fumbled for his phone.
> 8:39 AM.
> "We're late!!"
He darted past his confused colleague, who merely blinked and continued scrolling through social media with mild amusement.
---
Up a flight of stairs, a knock pounded on a bedroom door.
> "Yo! Rise and shine, sleepyhead! You're going to be late!"
The footsteps faded.
Saito blinked again — his vision blurry as light poured through the window beside his bed. He stared in silence, reality sinking in like a dream evaporating.
> "A dream... huh?"
Sixteen years old, Yogiri Saito was a second-year student at Misugatashi High. He now lived with his older siblings due to an incident no one liked to talk about. His sister was rarely home.
He stood, brushing aside the heavy feeling of morning, and walked into the bathroom.
---
In the living room, his older brother waited.
Yogiri Kazuto, eighteen, dressed crisply in the Misugatashi uniform — mid-length silver hair tied in a loose band. His phone glowed in his hand. A lollipop stuck out of his mouth like a lazy cigarette.
Kazuto heard footsteps.
> "Hmmm... finally ready to hit the road, shrimp?"
> "Yeah," Saito said, grabbing his bag from the chair.
> "Alright then." Kazuto grinned, standing up with a stretch.
Together, they left the house. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving silence in its place.
---
Students lined the streets like fish flowing downstream. The boys' uniforms were clean and formal — white shirts with black-and-gray striped collars and cuffs, black trousers, and matching shoes. Most wore black jackets with gray trim. Some, like Saito and Kazuto, opted for white sneakers.
The girls had a similarly structured uniform: a black version of the boys' design with gray highlights.
Near the school gate, a girl ran up breathlessly.
> "You're late again, Shizume-chan!"
> "Sorry... I overslept."
> "You were gaming all night again, weren't you?"
> "Hehe... busted." She scratched her head sheepishly.
Another student grabbed her hand and pulled her forward with a laugh.
Elsewhere, a familiar voice echoed.
> "Razue! Ryun-san!"
> "Aise-chan? Is that you?!"
Laughter and shouts filled the air as students reunited.
Amid the noise, Saito and Kazuto moved quietly, unnoticed.
> "Heading to class," Kazuto said casually, already peeling off toward a different corridor.
Saito didn't respond. He simply frowned.
> Typical... just walks off.
He adjusted his bag and walked alone toward his classroom.
That's when he heard it.
Two girls were whispering nearby.
> "Reku, don't look at him."
> "Why not?"
> "You haven't heard the rumor? People say he killed his parents. Just because of a fight."
Saito froze, his back still turned.
> "That can't be true!"
> "Think about it. They argued... and now they're dead. Isn't that suspicious?"
A sharp silence followed. Saito's face didn't move, but his thoughts spun violently.
> Why won't they just shut up? It's not true... I—
A flash of memory. His mother's face. Blood across her left cheek and collar, and yet... she smiled.
> Why that smile...?
---
Two Months Ago
Saito returned home from school, still in uniform.
His father, Yamatogara, sat in his office — a towering study at the top of the family mansion. His chair faced the window. Below, people bustled in miniature.
> "Saito, you met those friends just yesterday, right?"
> "Dad, I—"
> "I don't want you hanging out with strangers. Especially ones I don't have records on."
He turned his chair slowly, eyes sharp.
> "You may not like it, but I'm protecting you. This conversation is over."
> "Y-Yes sir. I understand."
Saito walked out. In the living room, Kazuto lounged in black pajamas, scrolling on his phone.
> "Angry?"
> "No."
> "You sure? You asked Dad something — in public, no less. Then punched me and ran off."
> "I'm sorry."
Kazuto laughed.
> "Nah, it's fine. It's the most emotion I've seen from you in years."
He ruffled Saito's hair again.
> "Thanks, big bro. I think I'm better now."
Kazuto stood and walked toward the elevator.
> "Don't stay up too late."
Ding. The door shut.
Saito picked up a controller.
> "Guess a little Call of Duty won't hurt."
---
> "Sai dear."
A warm, soothing voice pulled him from the game. He turned.
His mother, Beatrix, stood near the elevator. White silk gown. White slippers. Silver hair cascading past her shoulders. Eyes soft, and lined with light makeup — calm and ever distant.
She sat beside him and gently pulled his head to her chest.
> "Are you alright?"
He relaxed instantly, her presence like a blanket.
> "Your dad's not angry. He's just... well, protective. I think?"
She poked her cheek, puzzled.
Saito chuckled.
> Just like her.
> "Can you try to understand him — for my sake?"
> "Yeah. I will."
She kissed his forehead.
> "Don't stay up late, okay?"
She turned toward the elevator, then paused.
> "Oh! Before I forget — your sisters are coming. We're going to the beach tomorrow."
> "EH?!"
His face twisted in horror.
> Oh no...
He recalled a specific nightmare — his younger sister using his pants to clean her vomit.
> "That was... dreadful," he muttered.
---
To Be Continued...