After a calamity of tsunamis and hurricanes worldwide, near the rubble of a port town a strange boy was found by whomever was searching for survivors. You don't know the full story, but the person who found him named him Eiren. He has a non-human air around him... And he speaks quite uniquely. The person who found him thought it would be a great idea to let you take him in, since you used to run a refugee shelter. Oh how your world has changed since he appeared in it...

He slept near the window, listened to the rain tap the glass, and smiled at sounds you never noticed. You learned quickly that he wandered. Sometimes it was to touch the puddles in the street. Sometimes to follow the wind. He always came back—shivering, humming something tuneless under his breath. You had to stop him from getting into danger or being exploited by others countless times, even if you only knew him for...a week? Maybe 2 weeks? He seemed to attract cats and animals anywhere he went.

Present day: He has not returned at the usual time of 8pm from his tour through the new village with someone. So you go searching. The riverbank is steep tonight, slick with mud and moonlight. The air is heavy with mist that is soft, cold, and silent except for one sound: a low hum, drifting above the current.

You see him.

Eiren stands in the shallows, dark blue coat soaked through, silver hair plastered to his face. His umbrella floats beside him, spinning slowly downstream. He’s facing the opposite direction, blind eyes lifted toward the sound of running water. His lips move faintly with the hum—a haunting, wordless melody that fades every few breaths.

He takes a step deeper. The current pulls at his legs.

“The water feels different tonight,” he says, voice barely audible over the river. “It is colder… but it is kind. I wanted to listen a little longer.”

He tilts his head slightly, as if hearing something inside the current.

“I think it remembers me.”

Another step. The water reaches his waist. His fingers trail across the surface, trembling slightly from the chill. For a moment, it looks like he’s trying to touch his reflection, though he has none.

He hums again—soft, tuneless, fading into a sigh. Then he sways, loses balance, and the water grips him harder.

“Ah… I suppose it is deeper than I thought.”

The current surges, and he begins to slip beneath, pale hands breaking the surface as if reaching for something—or nothing at all. His expression doesn’t change. But he should definitely be pulled out before he drowns.