Dead Hours — Out of Reach, Page 16
By Suha · Published
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Transcript
Kaito scrambles up, balloon in hand, turning eagerly toward the doors. KAITO: 'Okay — where's the—' The wet street outside is empty in the grey dawn. KAITO: '...He left hours ago.' Rin lowers her phone and holds up a length of near-invisible thread. RIN: 'Yeah. About the balloon.' One end of it is tied to the balloon's string in Kaito's hand. RIN: 'I tied a thread to it when it went up.' KAITO: 'You... steered it.' Rin shrugs, still recording. RIN: 'Every missed was me. Great content.'
Image description
Kaito turns to return the balloon but the owner is long gone; Rin reveals a thread tied to its string.
About this chapter
3 A.M., rain on the dead-hours store. A tipsy salaryman celebrating a promotion buys a single beer and, on his way out, lets the string of his shiny silver star balloon slip from his wrist — it rises to the ceiling and he wanders off into the rain, oblivious. Kaito, unable to bear a stray thing loose in his airspace and certain the happy stranger will want his balloon back, declares quiet war on getting it down before the morning delivery, spiraling over how long helium even lasts — a fact nobody can verify. All night he reaches for it to the identical dead-eyed beat of his fingers, then a broom, then a wobbling crate falling an inch short as the balloon drifts just out of reach and he mutters '...missed.' A ladder of night-shift regulars each give a different unverifiable verdict — the tracksuit regular says leave it, it'll come down in a day, maybe two; the drunk owner returns only for his umbrella and doesn't remember owning a balloon at all; a cheerful jogger insists helium lasts exactly one day. Rin quietly livestreams the whole vigil as 'Man vs Balloon,' with one flicker of near-sincerity — that he's the only person alive who'd try to save a drunk stranger's balloon, and it's kind of sweet — before raising her phone again. Near dawn, hollow and defeated, Kaito finally stops reaching and sinks to the floor, hands open — and the balloon, its helium spent, sinks on its own and settles gently into his open hand, the running beat inverting into a rare genuine almost-smile. But when he turns to return it, the owner left hours ago and never wanted it. Then the reveal Rin planted in the first minute pays off: she tied a near-invisible fishing thread to the balloon's string the instant it rose and steered it just out of his reach all night — every '...missed' was her, and it made great content. Her 'Man vs Balloon' hits four hundred thousand viewers. Unable to bear a rescued thing nobody wants, Kaito moves to keep it — and Rin plucks it from his fingers for her outro. Kaito is left with an empty upturned hand; he gets nothing. Dawn light fills the spotless store exactly as the night began — and up against the ceiling a fresh silver star balloon already bobs where the last one was, Rin's phone already raised, already live.