Kai and Soren - Days - Chapter Nine: The Questions Remain

Tears fade.

Time does too.

The questions remain.

“What defines us as human?”

“The soul?”

“Does it really exist?”

“Is that a religious question?” Kai replies, fixing his hair in front of the mirror.

“We laugh,” he continues. “Then we cry. We suffer. Is that what defines us?”

A strand slips from the comb. Kai’s hair stays messy.

“Hey— are you done yet?”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Soren doesn’t look at him. He grips the strap of his backpack until his knuckles turn white.

It’s not just curiosity. It never has been.

Since that day. Since the funeral. The Keer have become invisible.

People pretend not to see them, cross the street, lower their voices.

As if silence could erase everything. As if it were their fault.

“And if, hypothetically, we took all of this away?” Soren murmurs.

“Wouldn’t it be better…?”

Kai stands still in front of the mirror. He doesn’t answer. Then he sighs.

“Fine. I’ll wear a hat.”

He slings his backpack over his shoulder.

“Hurry up. We’ll be late.”

Soren lifts his hands.

“As always.”

In the car, Iris is already sitting in the back seat, in the middle.

Ruairidh unlocks the doors. Kai gets in first, Soren from the other side.

The engine is running. Hannah is the last to take the front seat.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Ruairidh shifts into first gear, heading toward Anderson High School.

The goodbye is rushed—he shows his watch to Hannah, resigned. She shoots him a look, then smiles faintly, pointing at her phone.

“As usual. One call and I’ll come get you.”

They step out in front of the entrance.

Other students are already there—small groups, broken laughter, overlapping voices.

Someone notices them arriving and looks away.

A boy changes direction at the last second.

A girl cuts herself off mid-sentence and pulls her friend along.

No one says anything.

No one really looks at them.

Iris lifts her bag and presses it to her chest.

They go inside.

The hallway is already crowded. Lockers slamming. Fast footsteps.

The same routine. The one they’ve known for years.

Only now it feels heavier—just a little more, every day.

Kai walks ahead.

Soren follows, backpack slung over one shoulder.

Iris trails behind them, silent.

Soren is still thinking. About the same questions. Always the same ones.

Kai suddenly slows down.

He doesn’t stop completely—just a hesitation, a half-missed step.

Soren almost runs into him.

“Hey—”

Kai turns his head slightly.

Soren pushes him on instinct.

The body reacts before the mind does.

The hit comes right after. Straight to the face.

Soren falls backward. Two hands catch him just in time.

Iris.

“That’s your answer,” Kai says.

Soren looks up.

Iris is there. Her head against his chest. Too close.

For a moment, they look at each other.

Then Iris lets go.

From down the hallway, a familiar voice:

“Sorry— sorry, Soren.

I didn’t mean to hit you.”

Kai taps Lia lightly on the head.

“You’re always causing trouble.”

Lia apologizes again, embarrassed.

Kai turns toward the classroom door.

“Come on.

Let’s go inside.”

Soren follows.

The questions remain, suspended.

But they don’t weigh the same anymore

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