Rain.
Heavy. Cold. Relentless.
It pounded against the windows of the hospital like a warning—low, drumming thunder building behind it. A young boy sat in the hallway, small knees drawn up to his chest, soaked sneakers squeaking against the linoleum floor. The sleeves of his yellow raincoat were too long, hiding his clenched fists.
Yuta Okkotsu was ten years old.
He stared at the doors to Room 304 without blinking.
Inside, the machines beeped steadily. Nurses moved in silence. A woman sobbed quietly at the end of the hall.
They said she wouldn't make it.
That the accident was too severe.
That her body—her little frame—couldn't take the damage.
But Yuta didn't move.
Because he promised.
Just three days earlier…
—
Three Days Earlier —
The sun was warm, filtering through the leaves above the park. Rika Orimoto smiled, eyes squinting under the brightness, her hands behind her back as she rocked on her heels.
"You're always alone," she said.
Yuta looked up from the bench, surprised someone was speaking to him.
"…I guess," he mumbled.
She sat beside him without asking. She smelled like strawberry gum and sunscreen. Her shoes were scuffed at the toes.
"Well, now you're not."
He blinked. "Huh?"
"I'm Rika. You're Yuta, right? You helped me with the library books last week."
He gave a tiny nod.
She beamed. "You're nice. I like nice boys."
Yuta felt his ears go red.
Rika pulled something out of her pocket—a candy ring wrapped in clear plastic.
"I know it's silly, but… my mom says when people like each other, they get married, right?"
Yuta froze.
Rika grinned. "So let's get married when we grow up."
He opened his mouth to protest—but she slid the ring onto his finger.
"You can't take it off," she said firmly. "It's a promise."
Yuta looked down at the plastic jewel. It shimmered under the sunlight like it meant something real.
"Okay," he whispered.
She giggled and grabbed his hand, swinging it happily.
—
Back in the Hospital —
He was still wearing the ring.
They let him in to see her, eventually.
Her body was covered in bruises. Tubes ran into her mouth, nose, arms. Her face was pale, far too pale for someone so full of life.
Yuta stood at her bedside, tiny hands gripping the rail.
"Rika…"
She didn't respond.
The machines hummed.
He bit his lip.
"Don't die," he whispered, trembling. "You can't die, okay? You promised. We promised."
His tears dripped onto the floor.
"I love you, Rika."
The lights above flickered.
—
They said her body went missing from the morgue.
That the doors were shredded from the inside.
That something screamed so loud in the night, it shattered all the windows on the third floor.
Yuta never saw her body again.
But he saw her.
He saw her in the shadows.
He saw her when boys bullied him in middle school and ended up in the nurse's office with broken ribs.
He saw her when he tried to run away and found her standing at the gates, twisted and monstrous, protecting him.
Her voice was a low growl now. Distorted. Drenched in bloodlust.
"You said you loved me. So I'll protect you forever, Yuta."
His nightmares always ended the same way.
Her voice.
Her eyes.
And the unbroken, rotting ring on his finger.