Something was wrong with the sky.

  Mayo's breath plumed in front of him, small clouds appearing and vanishing with each gasp. His shoes pounded against the pavement, legs burning as he pushed through street after street.

  People stood outside their homes instead of inside them. Shopkeepers lingered in doorways with lights still burning behind them.

  Cars had stopped in the middle of the road, doors open, drivers staring upward.

  Some pointed.

  Some prayed.

  Others simply stared, frozen between disbelief and fear.

  A woman dropped her grocery bag without noticing. Oranges rolled across the asphalt.

  No one picked them up.

  Mayo didn’t stop until he reached his house.

  "I'm home!" he shouted as he pushed the front door open.

  "MAYO!"

  His mother's voice struck him before he could take another step. Mina rushed toward him, apron still dusted with flour, hands trembling. She grabbed his shoulders, then pulled him into a tight embrace.

  "Where have you been? It's almost nine! Toviro and your father were looking everywhere!"

  Before he could answer, the door swung open again.

  Haruto stepped in, breathing hard. Behind him, Toviro hovered, his small propeller spinning weakly, a satchel hanging crookedly at his side.

  "Mayo?" Haruto crossed the room in seconds. "Where were you?" His voice tried to stay firm, but it shook. He pulled Mayo into a brief, tight hug. "You had us worried sick."

  "Mayo!"

  Toviro lunged forward and grabbed Mayo by the arms. "What were you thinking? I checked the entire town! You weren't anywhere. It was like you just… vanished."

  His grip loosened. His eyes glistened.

  "Don't ever do that again," he muttered. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

  Behind them, Mina's relief had moistened her eyes.

  Mayo looked from one face to another. They weren't angry.

  They were worried.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered.

  The words felt heavier than they should have.

  Silence settled between them for a moment, thick with relief and something unspoken.

  Toviro studied him closely. "You feel strange," he said quietly. "Are you dizzy? In pain?"

  Mayo hesitated. The hill. The light. The voice.

  "I don't know," he said finally. "I was on the hill, I think… then I fell asleep."

  Toviro narrowed his eyes slightly but nodded. "If anything feels wrong, you tell me. Promise."

  "I promise."

  The TV in the living room blared loudly.

  Mina looked at the others. "Do any of you know what's going on?"

  "I have no clue," Haruto said.

  They all moved closer and gathered in front of the screen.

  The news anchor no longer had his usual calm.

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  Behind her, footage of the sky played on a loop, zoomed in on shifting star patterns, diagrams overlaying reality in ways that made the images feel unreal.

  A representative from Spake (Space Enterprises Association) stood before a digital projection of the universe.

  "For billions of years, our universe—or rather, all of creation—has been expanding outward from a single starting point," the scientist said, his voice hoarse but controlled. "This expansion has never once been reversed."

  He gestured toward the projection. Lines that once moved outward now bent inward.

  "Our current data indicates that the movement of celestial bodies has changed. They are no longer spreading apart."

  The anchor swallowed. "You're saying the universe is… collapsing?"

  "Not toward one center," the scientist replied. "Toward several."

  The image split. Multiple distortion points appeared across the cosmic map.

  "In simplified terms, it's as if gravitational singularities—black hole-scale anomalies—have manifested across vast regions of space. Everything is being drawn toward them simultaneously."

  The room felt smaller.

  "Which," he added quietly, "should be impossible."

  Silence pressed down like a weight.

  Mayo glanced at Toviro. "Do you know what's happening?"

  Toviro shook his head slowly. "No. This doesn't just happen. Not even in fiction."

  Across the room, Haruto and Mina exchanged a look that lasted half a second too long. Something unspoken passed between them, a flicker of recognition that felt older than this moment.

  Mina straightened. "Mayo. Go take a bath. Then we'll eat."

  The words sounded normal.

  But the world was not.

  Toviro went upstairs, pausing by the window. Outside, more neighbors had gathered. Their faces tilted toward the shifting sky. The stars kept moving, subtle but undeniable.

  In the bathroom, steam filled the air as water ran over Mayo's shoulders. He leaned against the cool tile, eyes closed.

  Contracting. Singularities. Impossible.

  The pain struck without warning, sharp and violent, dropping him to his knees as his vision blurred. He gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles white.

  "What is this?"

  Pressure built inside his skull, something forcing its way through thought itself. Then the voice came. Not distant. Not echoing from somewhere outside. It rose from deep within him.

  "Do not become me."

  He clutched his head, gasping.

  "Become what I could never be."

  The words pressed in on themselves, layering and overlapping—some soft, others sharp as broken glass.

  "You are not only the last chance. You are the first hope."

  "Stop," he gasped, pressing his palms over his ears. But the sound did not fade. It was not in the room.

  It was inside him.

  The pain rose to its peak, then suddenly vanished.

  Just like that.

  Silence returned, broken only by the sound of running water. Mayo stayed there on the cold tile, breathing hard, heart hammering, sweat mixing with steam.

  Then the house jerked violently.

  The lights flickered. A deep roar surged through the walls. The mirror rattled, bottles crashed to the floor, and outside, screams erupted. This was no tremor—the entire house swayed, as if something enormous had grabbed it and shaken.

  "Mayo!" Haruto's voice thundered from the hallway.

  Mayo scrambled to his feet, pulling on clothes with shaking hands, and flung the door open. Haruto stood in the hallway, bracing himself against the wall, his face pale.

  "Outside. Now."

  They rushed down the stairs. The television had fallen, its screen cracked. A picture frame lay shattered on the floor, glass scattered like frozen tears.

  Out in the street, the neighborhood had gathered again. Doors hung open behind them as people stepped out of their homes, some still in slippers, others clutching their phones or pulling jackets over their shoulders.

  Voices overlapped in anxious murmurs.

  "Was that an earthquake?"

  "Did you feel that?"

  "I’ve never felt anything like that before."

  The ground trembled beneath their feet for long, endless seconds. People clung to one another, some crying openly, others staring upward as if expecting the sky itself to collapse.

  A child began to cry somewhere in the crowd. A man tried calling someone, but the line would not connect.

  Then, gradually, the shaking eased.

  The rumble faded until only an uneasy silence remained.

  The night air felt strangely thin.

  For several cautious minutes, no one moved. People lingered in the street, speaking in low, uneasy voices as they looked around, checking their homes, their neighbors, the sky above.

  Gradually, families began drifting back inside.

  No buildings had collapsed. No fires burned. Yet nothing felt truly intact.

  Something fundamental had shifted in the world, and somewhere quietly within Mayo as well.

  Later, in his room, Mayo sat on the edge of his bed while Toviro stood near the window, unusually quiet.

  "It's weird," Mayo said finally.

  Toviro did not attempt a joke. "Weird isn't the word."

  They sat in silence as the sky outside continued to move.

  The hours slipped by unnoticed.

  Morning came too quickly.

  Sunlight brushed across Mayo's face, warm and ordinary. He opened his eyes slowly and found Toviro already awake, standing by the window.

  "Morning," Mayo murmured.

  Toviro did not answer right away. Instead, he said, "Mayo. Look outside."

  Something different lingered in his voice.

  Mayo stood and walked to the window. The sun hung in the sky, pale and steady—but behind it, something else existed. At first, it looked like distortion, light bending unnaturally at the edges. Then his eyes adjusted.

  A massive shadow loomed beyond the sun's glow, far larger than anything should be. Its full shape could not be seen, hidden within a brightness too intense to pierce. Only an outline suggested itself—curved and immense.

  The air around it seemed warped, as if reality itself struggled to hold it together.

  It did not move.

  It simply was.

  Mayo felt his throat tighten. The world had not ended. It had changed. And whatever that thing was, it was closer.

  The doorbell rang, sharp and sudden.

  Both of them flinched.

  Downstairs, footsteps approached the door.

  And the morning waited.