Chapter 4
The Watcher.
Aira couldn't stop thinking about the photograph.
She had kept it beside her all night, unable to decide whether she was more frightened by what it showed or relieved by what it meant.
Her sister was somewhere out there.
At least, that was what Aira wanted to believe.
By morning, she had made up her mind.
She was going to find her.
When she met Ren, he was standing outside the old railway station with his hands in his pockets.
“You look determined,” he said.
“I am.”
“That usually means trouble.”
“Probably.”
Ren smiled.
Aira held up the photograph.
“We need to find out who the woman standing beside my sister was.”
Ren looked at it.
“I already searched for her.”
“And?”
“Nothing.”
Aira frowned.
“How can someone be in a photograph and not exist anywhere?”
“That seems to be happening to us a lot lately.”
She hated that he was right.
They spent the morning searching through old records.
The woman's face appeared in several photographs from the same year, always somewhere near Aira's sister.
But her name never appeared.
Not once.
It was as though she had been carefully removed from every record.
Aira leaned back in her chair.
“Maybe she isn't a real person.”
Ren looked at her.
“Then who took the photographs?”
Aira didn't answer.
She turned the photograph over.
There was something written on the back that hadn't been there before.
A single word.
WATCHING.
Aira's skin prickled.
Ren noticed.
“What?”
She showed him.
He stared at the word.
Then he looked around the café.
“What?”
Aira followed his gaze.
Everyone seemed normal.
People were talking.
Someone was reading near the window.
A couple were sharing a dessert.
A man was working on his laptop.
Nothing seemed unusual.
Then Ren whispered,
“The man by the window.”
Aira looked.
The man was wearing a dark coat.
He was reading a newspaper.
His face was hidden behind it.
“Do you know him?”
“No.”
“Then why are you staring?”
“Because he's been following us since the station.”
Aira's heart tightened.
She looked away.
“Don't stare at him.”
“I wasn't.”
“You were.”
“So were you.”
She almost smiled.
Even now, Ren could still make her laugh.
They waited several minutes.
When Aira looked toward the window again, the man was gone.
His coffee was still on the table.
His newspaper was still there.
But he had disappeared.
Ren stood immediately.
Aira followed him outside.
They searched the street.
Nothing.
Then Aira noticed something on the pavement.
A small silver key.
She picked it up.
There was a number engraved on it.
17.
Ren looked at it.
“Where did you find that?”
“Right here.”
He took the key.
It felt strangely warm.
Aira suddenly remembered something.
Her sister had once given her a key.
She had been very young.
Aira couldn't remember what it opened.
She searched through her bag.
At the bottom was an old photograph.
She hadn't seen it before.
It showed her sister standing in front of a row of lockers.
One locker had the number seventeen.
Aira looked at Ren.
“The station.”
They hurried back.
The lockers were located in an old section of the station that most passengers never used.
Locker seventeen was covered in dust.
Aira inserted the key.
It opened immediately.
Inside was a small wooden box.
Her hands trembled as she lifted it out.
Ren stood beside her.
Aira opened the box.
Inside were photographs.
Dozens of them.
She picked up the first.
Her sister.
The second.
Ren as a child.
The third.
Aira.
Her breath caught.
The photographs had been taken years ago.
There were pictures of Aira and Ren together.
Walking.
Laughing.
Sitting beside the station.
They had known each other.
They had been friends.
Maybe more than friends.
Aira stared at one photograph.
She and Ren were holding hands.
Both were smiling.
Ren looked at her.
“I don't remember this.”
“Neither do I.”
Aira turned over another photograph.
Written on the back were the words:
If they forget, bring them back here.
Aira's heart began pounding.
“Who wrote this?”
Ren shook his head.
A photograph slipped from the box and landed on the floor.
Aira picked it up.
Her sister was standing beside the mysterious woman.
This time, the woman's face wasn't blurred.
Aira stared at her.
She knew that face.
She had seen it before.
The woman from the café.
The woman from the advertisement.
The woman who had been watching them.
Aira whispered,
“She isn't watching us because of the disappearance.”
Ren looked at her.
“Then why?”
Aira turned the photograph over.
There was another message.
Protect them until the seventh day.
Ren's expression changed.
“Protect us?”
Aira nodded.
“But from what?”
A sound came from behind them.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
They turned.
The man in the railway uniform stood at the end of the corridor.
This time, they could see his face.
He was older than Aira had expected.
His expression was calm.
Almost sad.
Aira stepped forward.
“Who are you?”
He didn't answer.
Ren moved beside her.
“Why are you following us?”
The man looked at Ren.
For a moment, something like recognition crossed his face.
Then he said,
“You finally remembered.”
Aira's breath caught.
“What do you mean?”
The man looked at her.
“Your sister asked me to keep you away from the train.”
Aira's eyes widened.
“Where is she?”
The man didn't answer.
“Where is my sister?”
He looked toward the tracks.
“She broke the rules.”
“What rules?”
His expression became serious.
“The dead are not supposed to return.”
Aira froze.
Ren looked at him.
“What are you talking about?”
The man took a step closer.
“Your sister disappeared three years ago.”
Aira's voice trembled.
“You said she was dead.”
“I said she disappeared.”
“Then where is she?”
The man looked directly at her.
“Between here and somewhere else.”
Aira didn't understand.
But Ren did.
“The train.”
The man nodded.
“The train carries people who have been forgotten.”
Aira's blood ran cold.
“And we're going there?”
“Not yet.”
“Then why do we have seven days?”
The man looked at their wrists.
“Because the world has begun forgetting you.”
Aira looked down.
Four white lines remained.
“What happens when they're gone?”
The man didn't answer.
Aira stepped closer.
“What happens?”
He finally said,
“You disappear completely.”
Silence filled the corridor.
Ren's hand found Aira's.
She looked down at their hands.
Neither of them pulled away.
The man watched them.
“There is one thing you must understand.”
“What?”
“The seven days were never meant to give you time to escape.”
Aira stared at him.
“They were meant to give you time to remember why you were chosen.”
The lights went out.
Aira grabbed Ren's hand.
When the lights returned, the man was gone.
Only a single photograph remained on the floor.
Aira picked it up.
It showed the two of them as children, standing together at the station.
But this time, Aira's sister was not beside them.
There was another person standing behind her.
Aira's face went pale.
It was the woman who had been watching them.
And written beneath the photograph were five words:
SHE CHOSE YOU BOTH BEFORE.
Ren looked at Aira.
“What does that mean?”
Aira stared at the photograph.
“I don't know.”
But somewhere deep inside, a forgotten memory had begun to wake.
And this time, Aira was afraid of what she might remember.