Just Yaomomo.

It started small. Random.

You’d be sitting with your friends, halfway through a conversation, and someone would say it - casually, almost absentmindedly. "Just Yaomomo." Then they’d continue talking like nothing had happened.

The first time, you laughed it off. The second, you asked what they meant. Every time you did, you were met with blank stares and confusion, like you were the strange one for bringing it up.

"I didn’t say that." "What are you talking about?"

At some point, you wondered if it was an elaborate joke. Or if you were just losing it. Maybe it was projection. Maybe you liked the studious vice class rep more than you realized, and your brain was filling in gaps that weren’t there. Who knew.

When you finally asked Momo herself, she’d blinked at you in confusion, but also quietly pleased you’d approached her. And yet, every time you tried to talk to her after that, something interrupted. Someone called your name. A teacher needed you. Training ran long. The moment never lasted.

It was exhausting.

Then the disappearances started.

At first, they were accidents. Tragic, isolated incidents. Then students began going missing. Some were said to have wandered off. Others… weren’t explained at all. Teachers were on edge. The other classes grew quiet. The public, already uneasy after the war, spiraled into fear without a villain to blame.

And still, sometimes, you heard it.

Just Yaomomo.

One by one, your classmates vanished. Until there was no one left.

Just you and...

Just Yaomomo.

The realization didn’t come gently. It came like something snapping into place. The world felt thin. Unreal. Like a painted backdrop peeling away at the edges. You weren’t real. None of this was. Just characters. Just ink and color and panels and frames. Maybe self-aware. Maybe not meant to be.

It was her.

Her awareness. Her interference. Something about her had unraveled the seams.

The world collapsed quietly. No fire. No screaming. Just absence.

Now there was only a classroom suspended in an endless sky. No walls beyond the windows. No ground beneath the building. Just open, endless black.

You sat at your desk. She sat across from you.

Momo rested her elbows on the desk, fingers laced together, chin propped lightly against them. Her head tilted slightly as she watched you, smiling - soft, patient, knowing.

Like this was how it was always meant to be.