"ECHOES IN THE DUST"
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The wind was gentle that evening, carrying the scent of pine and moonflowers through the old wooden temple nestled above the village. Lanterns flickered softly, casting long golden shadows. The monk, now old and stooped, knelt before the children swaddled in wool blankets, their breaths warm and fragile in the still air.
He dipped his brush into black ink, the parchment spread before him.
First, the girl. Her eyes held the amber hue of falling leaves, and her small hand curled peacefully in sleep.
He looked at her and smiled with affection.
> Kaede Tsukihara (月原 楓)
"From moon's bright root, a maple born,
A crimson leaf on autumn's morn.
Soft in strength, in silence wise—
She'll bloom beneath October skies."
The monk whispered the name again, softer this time, like a blessing: "Kaede... child of the moonlit woods."
Then he turned to the boy—still and awake. He stared up at the ceiling beams as though they whispered stories only he could hear. The air around him had an odd hush, not fearful, just… still.
The monk did not flinch. He let the brush speak.
> Akumu Tsukihara (月原 悪夢)
"Born of moon's deep hidden thread,
A dream that walks where fears have fled.
Not evil child, nor shade of doom—
But secret thoughts the stars illume."
He set the brush down with a soft sigh. "Akumu," he said gently, not as a warning, but as a truth. "You are not the nightmare itself. Only the place where dreams go to think."
He looked at both the children and added with quiet pride:
> "Twins of the moon, of night and leaf,
One bears the winds, the other grief.
But never forget, even dreams that stray—
Are born from light that's lost its way."
Outside, the wind touched the trees. The maple leaves rustled like lullabies.
And inside, two names had been written… and remembered.
---
Have you ever thought...
What if you're not the first version of you?
Not the first to wear your name.
Not the first you to breathe into your body,
or open your eyes in that skin.
Not the first to love the people you love.
What if you've been replaced—
softly, silently—
gently, quietly—
without pain, without notice?
And no one noticed.
Not your friends.
Not your family.
Not even you.
Because the change wasn't loud.
It didn't come with thunder or dreams.
It came when you blinked.
Or when you forgot where you kept your pen.
When your handwriting curved differently.
When the songs you once loved stopped comforting you.
When your favorite color felt… a shade too strange.
Have you ever walked into your room
and something felt… almost right?
Not wrong.
But not yours.
As if the walls recognized someone else.
As if your pillow softened at the wrong angle.
As if the air held a memory
not quite belonging to you.
As if your things were put back by someone
who only thinks they know you.
What if your reflection isn't mimicking you—
but watching?
Smiling just a second too late.
Breathing half a beat after you.
And when you look away…
does it keep watching?
What if your shadow sometimes seems too slow?
What if the mirror is pretending too?
What if the sky isn't blue
because it is,
but because someone told you it must be?
And what if sky doesn't mean what you think it does anymore?
What if meanings are just stories we agreed on—
and someone, somewhere,
is rewriting those stories
one word at a time?
And what if this question—
right now—
is the last thing
you were ever supposed to read?
So go ahead.
Shrug it off.
Smile at the screen.
Tell yourself it's just a question.
A game.
A weird moment.
It was designed to feel like that.
Strange. Haunting.
Part of the performance.
But between those breaths...
you paused.
Just a second too long.
The air turned cold.
The silence, too symmetrical.
The clock ticked wrong.
And that...
That is all it ever takes.
---
The Kurokawa Museum doors creaked closed behind them, swallowing the hollow silence within. Aiko turned, casting one last look inside the ancient structure—its shadowed halls now darker than ever. She offered a polite bow to the trembling Mahito Kurowan.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Kurowan. We'll be in touch soon," she said, calm and formal.
Naomi added with a small smile, "Get some rest. You've had a long day."
Mahito nodded slowly, clearly unsettled, clutching the edge of his cane like it was a lifeline.
Riku gave him a playful wink as he turned away. "Don't let the statues move tonight!"
Mahito paled visibly. Naomi elbowed Riku hard in the ribs.
"Ow! Okay, okay!"
Kenji was the only one who didn't say a word. He kept his arms folded and eyes narrow, as if still unsatisfied. "Lock the place down," he muttered.
Behind the group, Daisuke lingered, eyes roaming the high arches of the museum one last time. His hand brushed against the side of the old iron gate, a small frown tugging at the corner of his lips.
Something wasn't right.
And he knew it.
Back at Kurokawa Police Station – Third Floor
The team returned with more questions than answers. The silence of the museum still clung to their coats like invisible dust.
Naomi immediately slumped into her chair and spun it around with a dramatic sigh. "Three hours, one haunted museum, and no tea. Tragic."
Riku dropped into the seat beside her and grinned. "But at least we got chased by ancient ghosts and survived. Barely."
"I'll throw you out the window, Riku."
"I'll land like a hero."
Across the room, Kenji tapped away on his computer, already coordinating with the tech team.
"Security logs, staff rotations, building schematics—dig into it all. I want the names of every employee who stepped near that vault in the last three months," he said into the phone.
Meanwhile, Aiko approached Daisuke near the window, where he stood silently watching the clouds drift.
"You alright?" she asked, gentle.
He nodded. "It's a lot to take in. But I'm learning."
Aiko smiled. "Good. You handled yourself well back there. Reminds me of someone during their rookie days."
"You?"
"Kenji," she deadpanned.
That actually drew a small laugh from Daisuke.
"I saw you whisper something to Naomi back there," Aiko added casually. "Something about the broken glass?"
Daisuke nodded. "I saw some black ink smeared on a shard. Didn't seem like an accident. I told Naomi, but… I wasn't sure if it was important."
Aiko's expression shifted slightly—more focused.
"Naomi sent the sample to Dr. Shiratori, right?"
"Yeah. She said it might help."
Right then, the door to the third floor opened, and a woman in a white coat walked in—elegant, sharp-eyed, with a badge that read: Dr. Hanae Shiratori – Forensics Division.
She walked straight to Aiko, holding a small folder.
"I just finished testing the ink you found," Dr. Shiratori said.
"Anything?" Aiko asked, hopeful.
"A trace of blood in it. Barely visible. But it's human. It may have been from a cut—could've mixed during the act of writing or drawing."
Naomi leaned in, suddenly serious. "What does that mean for us?"
"If there's even the tiniest trace of fingerprint—smeared or partial—I might be able to extract DNA. But I'll need time," Hanae replied.
Kenji looked up from his screen. "We'll get you everything. Every photo, every angle."
"Good."
Dr. Shiratori nodded and left.
A few minutes later, Riku wheeled over in his chair, spinning it sideways as he spoke. "Hey, Aiko?"
"Hmm?"
"Remember that girl we found? The one we hit with the car?"
"How could I forget?"
"Well… she's not in the hospital anymore."
Everyone froze.
"What?" Aiko asked sharply.
Riku held up his phone, showing them the message he just received. "The hospital reported her missing an hour ago. Vanished from her room. The nurse thought she was asleep. There was blood on the window frame."
Daisuke stiffened. Naomi exchanged a look with Aiko.
"Do we think she was part of it?" Naomi asked softly.
"I think…" Daisuke began. But he paused.
Kenji stood and pulled on his jacket.
"Get your gear. We're going back to the museum. And this time—we're tearing the history apart."
"Nah we will do it tomorrow " Riku vice was heard.
Somehow everyone agreed.....they had 6 days still left to solve the mystery and who goes to solve a robbery case after 6 hours of car ride and hearing a old businessman saying spooky story.
---
Kurokawa Central Police Station – Early Morning
The rain had stopped sometime in the early hours, but the streets still shimmered with leftover mist. Sunlight spilled lazily across the floor of the third floor, casting golden lines over empty coffee mugs, case files, and one half-eaten cream bun that no one wanted to claim (probably Riku's).
Kenji stood near the board, eyes sharp as he moved a red marker from "Missing Girl: Status – Unknown" to "Priority Lead."
"We split up today," he said, no-nonsense. "Naomi, Riku—you're with me. We're checking the hospital, reviewing CCTV, and grilling the officers who were on duty. Aiko, you and Daisuke go back to the museum. Search for anything that doesn't belong. Dust, hair, particles—I don't care if it's a pebble from the Heian period. Bring it in."
Naomi raised a brow. "Look at you, barking orders. Captain Rei would be proud." she narrowed her eyes and bend forward "And since when did you started to bark orders even to Aiko" She teased
Kenji muttered something inaudible that was probably not very polite.
Riku was already stretching like he was preparing for a marathon. "Road trip to the hospital! I call shotgun!"
Aiko, who was pulling her jacket on, turned to Daisuke. "You okay heading back to the museum?"
He nodded calmly. "I think it's better to go in when the building's sleeping."
Riku blinked. "Creepy. I like it."
---
Kurokawa General Hospital – 9:20 A.M.
The trio stepped into the private ward floor, where the girl had been held. The hallway still smelled of antiseptic and fake lavender. Naomi wrinkled her nose.
"I will never understand why hospitals try to smell friendly."
Two nurses passed by, whispering nervously. Kenji didn't stop walking.
Outside the room, four officers stood awkwardly. Two male, two female—Officer Hajime, Officer Sora, Officer Rina, and Officer Takuya.
Kenji wasted no time. "Report."
Officer Sora stepped forward. "We were stationed here all night. She was asleep. Monitors showed steady vitals until about 4:15 A.M. Then… they flatlined for three minutes. When we rushed in, the bed was empty."
"Window?" Naomi asked.
"Blood on the edge," Officer Hajime said, pointing. "It wasn't there during rounds."
Riku walked over, peering out the open window and whistled. "Two floors down and a courtyard full of thorn bushes. Hope she brought wings."
Naomi elbowed him again. Harder this time.
"Anything else?" Kenji asked.
Officer Rina hesitated. "There was a faint noise… like humming. We thought it was from the television in the next room."
Kenji didn't look convinced. "Was the TV on?"
All four exchanged a look.
"No," said Takuya. "The next room has been under renovation. No power."
Naomi frowned, arms folded. "We need the surveillance footage for this wing. Every hour. Every angle."
"I've already requested it," Kenji muttered, walking off.
Riku lingered behind and gave the officers a small wave. "Y'all better hope that girl isn't a ghost now. Otherwise, you're on ghost babysitting duty next time."
"Riku!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming!"
---
Kurokawa Museum – 10:05 A.M.
Aiko and Daisuke stood before the grand doors of the museum again. It looked just as empty and ancient as the day before, but this time… quieter.
Too quiet.
"Alright," Aiko said as she pushed open the door, "let's pretend we're detectives in a slow-burn mystery anime."
Daisuke smirked. "Would that make Riku the comic relief sidekick?"
"I think Riku believes he's the main character."
They stepped inside. The foyer was dim, but not dark. The sunlight leaking through the stained glass cast colors onto the polished floor. Their footsteps echoed gently.
Aiko pulled out her notebook. "Let's start with the room where the blade was kept."
As they entered the vault chamber, Daisuke paused. "Yesterday… I felt like something was off here."
"You mean besides the floating curses and twitchy statues?"
He gave her a small look. "You joke, but you didn't see how the floor dust shifted."
Aiko arched a brow. "Go on."
He knelt beside the far wall. "This corner… the dust patterns are broken. There was movement here recently."
Aiko knelt beside him and squinted. "Bootprint. Faint. And…" she reached out carefully, pulling a thin piece of thread from between the wall and the floor tile. "Fiber. Navy-blue wool."
Daisuke stood and glanced around. "Could belong to a uniform. Or someone trying not to be seen."
They split up, scouring the vault.
Aiko found a tag under one of the broken glass frames. It looked like a torn piece of cloth with half a word stitched in red: "RU-"
"Daisuke!" she called.
He came quickly, examining it. "Looks like part of a name badge. Security?"
"I'll run it by Kenji later. For now, let's gather all this."
As they packed the evidence, Aiko glanced at Daisuke. "You did well."
"I'm just following the dust," he said modestly.
"No, really. Most rookies miss stuff like this. You've got good instincts."
He looked like he wanted to say something, but the silence stretched.
Then Aiko added gently, "You mentioned training in your file. What was it like?"
He hesitated. "Intense. My instructor… wasn't easy on me. But it taught me how to read rooms. How to notice what's missing."
"Like the missing girl?"
He nodded.
They both looked around the vault again.
It felt like even the air was holding its breath.
---
Back at the Hospital – 11:15 A.M.
"Kenji, come look at this," Naomi called from the security desk.
On the monitor, the camera outside the girl's room showed a faint blur—like static moving between frames. Then… gone.
"No visible body," she murmured. "But something passed."
Riku, squinting at the footage, said, "Either it's a ghost, or someone wore a really advanced cloaking blanket."
Naomi raised her brow. "Cloaking blanket?"
"I watch documentaries."
Kenji ignored them, pointing. "Freeze there. Zoom."
A faint shape. A shadow too thin for a human. But not invisible.
"Not a ghost," he said quietly. "We've got someone who knows how to move unseen. And she wasn't alone when she left."
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