Chapter 4 – The Woman Who Measures Sunlight

Reina Shirogane walked into my shift like she was here to inspect the sun.

It was late afternoon, and the konbini lights felt a little too crisp, like the store was lit for a commercial. Rain tapped the glass, soft and polite, and the wet street outside reflected neon like a mirror that never smudged. Sakamoto was stacking instant noodles with zero passion, and I was pretending my phone didn’t contain proof someone watched me sleep.

“Welcome.”

My customer voice came out on autopilot.

“Hi.”

The woman’s voice was calm, careful, like she didn’t want to startle anything.

She wore a simple coat, hair neat, expression focused, and her eyes kept flicking to corners, not shelves. She didn’t browse snacks first. She watched shadows under the drink coolers. She watched the reflection in the freezer doors like it might lie to her.

“I’m looking for the manager.”

Her gaze landed on the ceiling lights, then the security mirror, then me.

“I can get him.”

I nodded toward the back, and my stomach tightened, because I already knew this wasn’t about expired milk.

“Hey, Sakamoto, can you grab the manager.”

Sakamoto glanced up, saw her, then shrugged.

“Sure.”

Reina pulled a small badge out, not flashy, more like an ID for someone who hates attention. I caught a quick glimpse of letters and a logo, something technical, something official enough to make my skin itch.

“This won’t take long.”

She offered it like reassurance.

“Okay.”

I tried to sound normal, and it came out thin.

Sakamoto returned with our manager, and the manager smiled his fake customer-service smile, the one that screams I don’t care but I will pretend I do.

“Hello, how can I help.”

Reina nodded politely.

“I’m Reina Shirogane, I’m following up on reports of electrical irregularities and light anomalies.”

The manager blinked, smile faltering.

“Light anomalies.”

Reina’s expression stayed composed.

“Flicker patterns, abnormal brightness consistency, and devices that fail only during certain conditions.”

My throat tightened, because she just described my entire life.

“We haven’t had any power issues.”

The manager’s voice came out defensive, and I hated how normal he sounded.

Reina didn’t argue, didn’t push.

“That’s the thing, it’s not consistent with normal failure.”

She glanced at the ceiling lights again, like she was watching their behavior.

“May I ask a few questions.”

The manager nodded, still confused, still polite.

“Sure.”

Reina asked about outages, about customer complaints, about the speakers glitching, about the register totals changing. The manager answered with little laughs and shrugging confusion. I stayed quiet, heart pounding, because every question felt like she was tracing the outline of Beatriz without saying her name.

Sakamoto leaned close to me, voice low.

“Who is she.”

“I don’t know.”

My fingers tapped the counter, fast and nervous.

“But she’s asking the wrong questions, like, in a right way.”

Sakamoto watched Reina’s pen move across a notepad, neat handwriting, steady hand.

“She’s kinda intense.”

Reina’s gaze flicked up, and it landed on me for half a second too long, like she already knew my name without reading my tag. I forced my face to stay neutral, because my survival rules didn’t cover this.

The manager excused himself, heading to the back to check some paperwork, and Reina stayed near the counter, eyes still tracking reflections.

“You noticed the freezer doors.”

My words slipped out, and I regretted them instantly.

“Yes.”

Reina’s voice stayed calm, and her eyes didn’t leave the glass.

“Reflection shows more than light.”

I swallowed.

“That’s a weird thing to say.”

Reina’s mouth twitched, almost a smile.

“It’s a weird job.”

Sakamoto pretended to stack gum, but he was listening so hard his shoulders were tense.

“What kind of job is that.”

Reina turned her head slightly, like she was deciding how much to share.

“I work with infrastructure monitoring.”

Her eyes moved to the security mirror again.

“Light is part of infrastructure, and lately it’s been… too clean.”

My stomach dropped.

“Too clean.”

Reina nodded.

“Sunlight feels measured, like a setting.”

My palms went damp.

“I thought I was just losing it.”

Reina finally looked at me fully, and her gaze was sharp, not cruel.

“People tell themselves that when reality gets quiet.”

Sakamoto sucked in a breath, then spoke before he could stop himself.

“Okay, that’s spooky.”

Reina glanced at him, then softened her expression.

“I’m not here to scare anyone.”

She lowered her voice.

“I’m here to prevent collapse.”

My heart kicked hard, and I leaned forward without thinking.

“Collapse.”

Reina nodded once, slow.

“When systems stabilize too perfectly, it usually means they’re constrained.”

My throat felt tight.

“Constrained by what.”

Reina’s eyes flicked to the store entrance, then back to me.

“By someone.”

The bell above the door chimed, and the air changed, like the store itself straightened its posture.

“Good afternoon.”

Beatriz walked in like she owned the light.

She looked flawless in that calm way that made everyone else feel like they were trying too hard. Rain should’ve dampened her hair. It didn’t. She carried a small umbrella, closed, and the water on it didn’t drip onto the floor, like gravity respected her.

“Kaito.”

Her voice warmed my name, and the ceiling lights brightened a fraction, subtle but real.

I forced myself to breathe.

“Beatriz.”

Sakamoto’s posture went stiff, like his body remembered fear even when his face tried to stay chill.

Reina turned her head slowly, watching Beatriz, and I saw it, the way Reina’s eyes didn’t just look at her. She looked at the air around her, at the shadow lines, at the reflections in the freezer doors.

“Hello.”

Reina’s voice stayed polite, careful.

“Hello.”

Beatriz smiled, sweet and composed.

Beatriz’s gaze landed on Reina, and for a second the air felt slightly colder, like the store’s AC decided to flex. It wasn’t dramatic. It was just enough to make my skin prickle.

“You’re a customer.”

Beatriz’s tone stayed friendly.

“I’m investigating anomalies.”

Reina held her badge up again, calm, not aggressive.

“I’m Reina Shirogane.”

Beatriz’s smile warmed, like she liked names.

“Beatriz.”

Reina nodded.

“Nice to meet you.”

Beatriz nodded back, perfect manners, perfect posture.

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

Sakamoto leaned closer to me, whispering like a sinner.

“Bro, she’s so polite it’s scary.”

“Shut up.”

My whisper came out sharp, and Sakamoto immediately pretended to wipe the counter.

Reina looked down at her notepad again, pen poised.

“I noticed irregular patterns.”

Her voice stayed gentle, like she was handling something delicate.

“Light behavior changes depending on proximity to certain individuals.”

My stomach dropped, and I felt my pulse in my fingertips.

Beatriz tilted her head, curious.

“Individuals.”

Reina nodded once.

“I think the world is tied to someone.”

The words hung in the air, and I watched Beatriz’s expression carefully, searching for anger, for offense.

Beatriz only smiled, sweet as ever.

“That’s a heavy thought.”

Reina’s pen moved, then stopped.

The ink line on the paper faded, like it had never been written.

Reina blinked at the page, frowning.

“That’s… odd.”

She scribbled again.

The pen scratched, then went silent, the tip dry like someone sucked the ink out.

Reina tried again, twisting the pen, shaking it.

“It was working.”

Beatriz’s smile stayed kind.

“Do you need a new one.”

Reina looked up, and the confusion in her eyes flickered, like her memory tripped.

“No, I—”

Her voice softened, uncertain.

“I think I had… never mind.”

My skin crawled.

Beatriz leaned in slightly, still polite, still sweet.

“I can help.”

Reina’s expression stayed careful.

“I appreciate it, but I’m fine.”

Beatriz nodded, like she respected boundaries, like she wouldn’t crush them.

“Okay.”

Reina reached for a small recorder clipped to her bag, and I saw her thumb hit the button. The tiny red light flickered on, then died. She stared at it, then pressed again.

Nothing.

Sakamoto’s eyes went wide, and he looked at me like he wanted to scream.

Reina exhaled slowly, still composed, still trying to keep it professional.

“That’s convenient.”

Her words held no accusation, just observation.

Beatriz’s smile turned apologetic, almost tender.

“I’m sorry.”

Reina’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she looked at the ceiling lights again, then the freezer reflections. The glass showed Beatriz’s face, perfect. For a blink, the reflection behind her warped, like the space around her refused to stay flat.

Reina’s gaze sharpened, and she didn’t look away.

“Kaito.”

Reina said my name like she’d known it all along.

“Can I speak with you privately.”

My heart thudded hard.

“Why.”

Reina kept her tone gentle.

“Because you look like you’ve been carrying this alone.”

Sota wasn’t here, but Sakamoto made a sound like he wanted to become invisible anyway.

Beatriz stepped slightly closer to me, and the store lights brightened again, just a hair.

“You can talk.”

Her voice stayed sweet.

“I trust him.”

My stomach twisted, because that sounded like permission and a claim.

Reina nodded, respectful.

“Thank you.”

Beatriz smiled, then looked at Reina with that perfect warmth.

“You’re very observant.”

Reina’s lips pressed together, like she wasn’t sure that was a compliment.

“I have to be.”

Beatriz nodded.

“It must be exhausting.”

Reina blinked, and her gaze softened for half a second, like the empathy landed even through the tension.

“It can be.”

Beatriz’s smile stayed gentle.

“You’re doing a good job.”

Reina’s expression flickered, surprised, then she looked down like she didn’t want to accept the praise.

“Thanks.”

I watched it happen, and it freaked me out more than the broken pen.

Beatriz wasn’t just possessive.

She was kind, in this smooth, unsettling way that made people lower their guard.

Reina stepped a little closer to the counter, voice quieter now.

“Kaito, can I ask you something.”

My throat went dry.

“Yeah.”

Reina kept her eyes on my face, focused, careful.

“Have you noticed people forgetting details, like faces, like names, like events that should stick.”

My heart thudded, and the selfie on the bridge flashed in my mind, that girl laughing like my face was a smudge.

“Yeah.”

I forced the word out.

“A lot.”

Reina nodded like she expected it.

“And have you noticed light correcting itself, like the world auto-fixes.”

I swallowed.

“Yeah.”

Reina’s gaze flicked toward Beatriz again, then back to me.

“I think the world is adjusting around someone.”

Beatriz’s smile stayed soft, almost proud.

“It’s nice when things work.”

My blood ran cold at the casualness.

Reina didn’t react like she was scared.

She reacted like she was trying to be careful with a wild animal.

“I’m not here to attack anyone.”

Reina’s voice stayed gentle.

“I’m here because if the anchor breaks, everything breaks.”

My throat tightened.

“Anchor.”

Reina nodded.

“Sometimes a system stabilizes around one point.”

Her eyes stayed on me, not Beatriz.

“If that point disappears, the system snaps back.”

Beatriz’s fingers brushed my sleeve, warm and light, like reassurance.

“I will not let him disappear.”

Reina’s gaze softened slightly, like she heard tenderness in the threat.

“Kaito, do you feel safe.”

The question hit me hard, because the answer wasn’t simple.

I looked at Beatriz, then at Reina, then down at my hands.

“I feel… protected.”

Reina nodded like she understood the nuance.

“Protected and trapped can look similar.”

Beatriz’s smile stayed sweet, and the store’s air felt colder again, subtle.

“I do not trap him.”

Her voice stayed gentle.

“I keep him.”

Reina held Beatriz’s gaze, calm, respectful.

“I believe you think that.”

The words were soft, but they hit like a warning.

Beatriz blinked, then smiled like she accepted it.

“I do.”

Reina reached into her bag and pulled out a small card, plain, with a number written neatly.

“Take this.”

She slid it toward me.

“If anything feels wrong, call.”

My fingers hovered over the card like it might burn.

“Why would you help me.”

Reina’s expression softened, genuine.

“Because you’re a person.”

She glanced at Beatriz again, then back to me.

“And because I don’t think anyone should carry the fate of the world alone.”

Beatriz’s smile warmed.

“That’s kind.”

Reina nodded, careful.

“It’s practical.”

Beatriz laughed softly, almost amused.

“I like you.”

Reina blinked, startled, then her mouth curved a little.

“Thanks.”

Beatriz tilted her head.

“You should eat something, you look tired.”

Reina’s eyes flicked down, then back up, and for a second she looked confused, like she forgot why she felt tense.

“I’m… fine.”

She said it slowly, like the word didn’t fully connect.

My stomach turned.

Beatriz’s gaze stayed warm, and she stepped back, giving Reina space like a perfect host.

“Thank you for caring about the city.”

Reina’s eyes sharpened again, and she forced her focus back.

“Someone has to.”

She looked at me, voice low.

“Kaito.”

Her tone turned serious, and my spine stiffened.

“If something happens to you, everything might fall.”

My throat tightened, and my mouth went dry.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Reina nodded once, like she heard the truth in it.

“Then we’re afraid of the same thing.”

Beatriz stepped closer to me again, and the lights steadied brighter, like they approved.

“He will be fine.”

Her voice stayed sweet.

“I will make sure.”

Reina’s gaze lingered on Beatriz’s face, then shifted to the shadows near her feet, where the edges looked too crisp, too controlled.

“I hope your certainty is deserved.”

Beatriz smiled, calm as sunrise.

“It is.”

Reina pocketed her dead recorder, then glanced at her notepad, blank like she never wrote anything.

She frowned, then gave up, slipping it away.

“I’ll be going.”

Her voice stayed polite.

“Thank you for your time.”

“Take care.”

I meant it, because for the first time in years someone else sounded like they could see the outline of my nightmare.

Reina nodded, then paused at the door, looking back at me.

“Don’t ignore patterns.”

Her voice stayed gentle.

“Patterns are how reality speaks before it screams.”

I swallowed.

“Okay.”

Reina left, the bell chiming as the doors closed, and the store seemed to relax, like tension drained into the floor.

Sakamoto stared at me, eyes wide.

“That was… legit insane.”

I exhaled hard.

“Yeah.”

Beatriz touched my wrist, gentle.

“Do you feel better.”

My laugh came out tired.

“No.”

Beatriz’s smile stayed sweet.

“Okay.”

Her calmness should’ve been comforting, and it made my skin crawl.

My shift ended, and I walked toward the station with Beatriz beside me, rain mist soft on my face. Neon reflected in the wet street, trains rumbled in the distance, and people flowed around us like nothing could ever break.

“You’re thinking too loud.”

Beatriz’s voice was soft.

“I’m thinking normal.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets, shoulders tight.

“You met Reina and you didn’t even blink.”

Beatriz’s smile turned playful.

“I blinked.”

“No, like, emotionally.”

Beatriz tilted her head, curious.

“Why would I.”

I stared at her, heart pounding.

“Because she’s getting close.”

Beatriz’s gaze softened.

“She is kind.”

My stomach flipped.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Beatriz smiled, calm.

“I know what you meant.”

We reached the metro entrance, and the warm rush of underground air hit my face. The station lights glowed bright, too bright, clean and even. People swiped cards, checked phones, shuffled in lines. A train announced its arrival in a cheerful voice that sounded fake.

We stepped onto the platform, and I tried to breathe like a normal person.

The lights flickered once.

For a split second, I saw the crowd with empty eyes, faces smooth and blank like mannequins, bodies moving on habit with nothing inside. My blood turned to ice, and my breath caught in my throat.

The lights flickered again.

Everyone was normal, chatting, scrolling, blinking, alive.

My hands shook, and I pressed them into my pockets hard, like I could crush the fear down.

Beatriz looked up at me, head tilted, smile calm in a way that felt too practiced.

“Did you see something.”