He Could See When Everyone Dies… Then He Met Her

The Boy Who Could See Death Timers Everyone in Kaito's city has a number floating above their head. Only he can see it. And this morning... his own number read zero days. It started when he was six. He woke up and saw glowing red digits above his mother. Three thousand, two hundred and nine. He thought it was a game. Three thousand, two hundred and nine days later... she didn't wake up. That's when Kaito understood. The numbers weren't a game. They were countdowns. Every person he passed on the street... he knew exactly how long they had left. So he stopped looking at people. Headphones in. Eyes on the ground. Twelve years of never making a single friend. Until the girl on the train. She sat down across from him, laughing at something on her phone. And above her head... there was no number. Nothing. Just empty air. In twelve years, Kaito had never seen that. Not once. He followed her off the train. He knew it was crazy. But he had to know. Excuse me, he said. This is going to sound strange... but why don't you have a number? She froze. Her smile disappeared. And she whispered... you can see them too? Her name was Hana. And she could see the numbers as well. But she'd discovered something Kaito never had. The numbers can change, she said. I erased mine. Three years ago, mine said four days. How? Kaito asked. Hana pointed at a man across the street. Above him... zero days. Zero hours. Ten minutes. Watch, she said. And she ran. She pulled the man back just as a truck screamed through the intersection. Glass. Smoke. Horns. And above the man's head, the number flickered... and rose. Forty-one years. Every life you save, Hana said, adds time to yours. I've saved enough that my number broke. It just... disappeared. Kaito looked at his reflection in a shop window. Above his own head, the counter was ticking. Zero days. Five hours. Five hours. To save enough lives to save his own. They ran through the city together. A child near a canal. An old man on a stairwell. A cyclist in the rain. With every rescue, his number climbed. Six hours. A day. A week. By midnight, he was exhausted, soaked, and alive. His number read sixty-two years. He laughed... for the first time in twelve years. Then he turned to thank Hana. And for the first time... a number was appearing above her head. Zero days. Zero hours. One minute. Hana smiled sadly. Erasing your number doesn't make you immortal, she said. It just means no one can see when it's coming. Except... the person who loves you. Kaito's countdown had stopped. But hers had just begun. And this time... he knew exactly who he had to save. Want part two? Comment Hana, and I'll tell you what happens next.