Chapter 26: The Alleyway

Chapter 26: Chapter 26: The Alleyway

Mataguchi’s monologue, POV

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Well I guess, I wouldn’t be able to make it this time...

"You’re breathing too fast," i remained calm, pointing out his constant gasps for air through the phone.

Mataguchi," Oota whispered, his voice cracking from the receiver "I saw something. In a alleway..."

Fear?

"I-I uh...I don’t know how I should say this.."

"I’m scared I’m going insane."

Alleyway...

I gazed at the window of my house, noticing that it was still dark inside. I turned around and walked away.

"Uh..hello" Oota calls out, realising the total silence.

"I’m still here. Can you hear the rain on my end? Just focus on that sound. It’s consistent. It’s real. I’m walking right outside, soaked to the bone. You’re safe in that bed." I walked further away from my house, retracing the road shion and i had just passed home together.

The light-poles on the sides still flickers, with the rain drops completely soaking me from up to button.

Subtle admiration makes the subject’s reward neurons fire, a biopsychological response that is highly addictive and urges them to keep sharing more...

"You are outside... on the rain?" Oota asked.

"It’s alright, I’m ’...’ with an umbrella...just went out to convenient store to get some snacks and drinks" i replied my voice remaining same. I had just Saud the part ’not’ barely audible to bot trigger the alerts.

"Uh oh okay" Oota shuttered from the phone.

"It’s alright, so tell me....what happened?" I didn’t have any expression on but my voided eyes seemed to darkened even more than usual. It was cold.

I know I’ve mentioned this before but I should stay up too let under the rain.

"I... I can’t tell you. If I say it out loud, it means I’ve finally lost it. My brain is... it’s misfiring. It has to be." Oota said in grief. His voice shaking.

"Your brain is just trying to protect you. It’s a good brain. But right now, it’s trapped in a loop. I need you to give me one physical detail...it doesn’t have to be the ’scary’ part...just a color or a sound. Start with why you even stopped."

I’m that good at interactions but I should try what I can to calm him down, he is my friend after all.

Isn’t that what friends do?

Oota paused in silence for a while, before replying "w-well umm...A cat. I heard a cat near the alley on 4th. It sounded... lonely. I just wanted to see if it was stuck."

A cat?

"Okay. A cat. That’s a normal thing to check on. You’re a good person. Now, keep your eyes on the ceiling. Tell me about the alleyway itself. Was it dark?" I questioned while i turned to the right, another route leading away from Oota’s house.

"That’s the thing... it didn’t end. I looked in, and the walls just... stretched. Like the brickwork was being pulled into a horizon that shouldn’t exist. And then I heard her."

Hmmm...

​"Keep breathing. Slowly. What did she say?" I asked.

​"Just one word. Over and over. ’Mummy.’ But she wasn’t... she wasn’t solid. She was flickering, like a streetlamp about to blow out. Like she was being edited out of the world while I was watching." Oota was trembling in fear but still trying to regain his confidence.

It might not sound like it but his gradually recovering...

Though no matter what I’ll do it won’t stop him from feeling this way permanently. It’s just human behaviour, he might even be thinking I’m just playing along to help ease him.

Well that’s the only reason why he would reach out to me Instead of Shiwogata-san.

​"You’re doing great. You’re describing a visual anomaly. It’s just data. What happened when the flickering stopped?" I added while i walked forward. Crossing another light-pole which was flickering and shacking from the breeze of the rain.

My clothing was completely drenched, while vehicles drove passed me.

My phone was wet but it was okay.

It I didn’t decide to follow the recommendation on Instagram while choosing this phone, I might as well not be answering this phone call.

"It just... snapped back. The alley was short again. Normal. There was a man there. Just a regular guy in a coat. I almost felt relieved until I looked at his hand."

​"What was in his hand?" I stopped walking as i was standing next to the alleyway.

My eyes tracing some distortions in the alleyway, it was dark though still visible to see, it had a dead-end.

"The girl. She was holding his hand. She was still glitching, stuttering in and out of existence but he was just walking with her. He looked right at me. He could see her. He knew what she was, and he was just... taking her somewhere."

​"Stay with me. Deep breath. You aren’t crazy. you’re a witness. You did the right thing telling me. Now, I want you to close your eyes and just listen to the rain on my side of the phone. I’m not hanging up until you fall asleep."

"Wait... you actually believe me?" Oota asked

"Of course I do," i replied into the wet phone receiver. "Don’t worry. I will investigate it. For now, keep this entirely between ourselves. Understood?"

"Ah, yeah. I will," Oota stammered. He seemed calmer now.

"I’m... I’m really glad I’ve got a friend like you, bro," Oota added softly.

"It is no problem. Now, just listen to the rain."

"The most valuable information is rarely given willingly....ithought, standing completely drenched under the flickering streetlamps, staring into the empty alleyway.

"It is revealed only when the subject feels entirely safe...."

"Yeah sure but I’m not a kid" Oota replied his tone sounding like his usual self but underneath a shacking feeling of fear still lingers.

"Right"

"Okay see you this weekend" Oota replied before hanging. The screen went black as the call disconnected with a sharp, digital beep.

I lowered the phone from my ear. The casing was slick with rainwater, but the waterproof seal held. Algorithms and customer reviews on Instagram, for once, had delivered an accurate variable.

I walked in, looking at the ground building walls. It was darkened with black stain that looked like mud or blood.

Black like mist emanates from it fading.

I stood at the threshold of the alleyway. The rain hammered against the asphalt, splashing against my soaked shoes.

Below my feet, right at the boundary line where the flickering streetlamp’s amber hue succumbed to the dark, lay a dusting of fine, grey residue. It was out of place.

Rain of this intensity should have washed it down the storm drain seconds ago, yet it sat there, clinging to the damp concrete like stubborn soot.

I stared at it for a quiet moment.

I took a deliberate step forward, my heavy, rain-logged blazer swinging with the motion. My shoe came down directly over the ash-like dust, smearing it into the wet pavement.

It didn’t matter if a few particles remained. The rain would finish the job eventually.

What mattered was the contamination on my person.

I looked down at the dark fabric of my school uniform. The sleeves were heavy, clinging cold and suffocating against my arms. The smell of ozone and damp earth was thick, but beneath it was something fainter, a sharp, metallic tang clinging to the threading.

"I’ll have to burn it," I muttered to myself, my voice swallowed whole by the downpour.

Washing it wouldn’t suffice. If the Scintillation Counter in my bag had already registered a click earlier, trace elements were likely woven into the fibers.

A standard wash cycle wouldn’t eliminate localized isotopes, and leaving it in a laundry hamper near my mother was an unacceptable risk. I’d strip in the shed, toss the uniform into the incinerator barrel, and draft an email to the student council office claiming I’d spilled industrial bleach during cleaning duty.

Sorry Ruby, I’ll be giving a bit of work even when I’m around.

I’ll call Oota just incase to clear his side and get him a new uniform and shoes as well.

A replacement set would take three days. Acceptable losses.

I turned my back on the empty alleyway and stepped back onto the main sidewalk.

The cold was beginning to settle deep into my joints. A dull, rhythmic ache throbbed at the base of my skull, a familiar warning sign from my immune system.

Bad for my health indeed.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a pair of tangled black wired earpieces. I unraveled them with practiced, methodical twitches of my fingers, ignoring the water pooling in the folds of my palms, and slotted them into my ears.

I tapped the screen of my phone, navigating through the damp interface until I found the track.

"Temper City – Self Aware."

The heavy, distorted bassline hit first, cutting sharply through the muffled roar of the storm.

The lyrics bled into my ears, syncopating perfectly with the steady, dull thud-thud-thud of my shoes hitting the wet pavement.

Up ahead, the row of light-poles stretched down the empty street like a line of fading sentinels. Each one flickered in a erratic rhythm, a simple voltage drop caused by the storm, or perhaps something manipulating the grid nearby. It didn’t matter.

I kept my gaze fixed straight ahead, my expression entirely blank, my eyes hollowed out by the shadow of my damp bangs.

Oota’s fear had been genuine. His physiological markers through the phone hyperventilation, vocal pitch modulation, erratic pause lengths, were impossible to fake without high-level theater training. He had seen a glitch. A man walking a flickering girl through a folded alleyway.

"Self-aware," I thought, the rhythm of the song echoing.

I pulled my wet collar higher up my neck. The rain continued to pour, relentless and cold, washing over the city, cleansing the streets of everything except the dark truth lurking just beneath the surface.

And as the final verse of the song echoed in my head, I kept walking into the night, entirely alone, and entirely aware.

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"I have more confidence in a dog when it wags its tail than in people’s displays of sincerity."

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