Dead Hours Inkroost
Dead Hours
The Fly · Ch.45
Right to left
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This series reads right to left — start each page from the top-right panel.
Wide night shot of the empty convenience store; Kaito stands behind the counter with arms folded while Rin sits on a stool looking at her phone.
Kaito notices a tiny fly, then points at it declaring there is a fly in the store while Rin, unimpressed, raises her phone to film him.
Kaito freezes with one hand raised, whispering 'There,' then swipes at empty air as the fly drifts away untouched.
Rin talks to her phone; the tall shaved-head tracksuit regular enters with a bag of cans and mimes a cup, and Kaito takes up a cup and card.
Kaito stalks the fly with a cup, slams it down a half-second too late, and stares under the empty cup as Rin comments.
An old man in a cardigan and flat cap tells Kaito flies can't fly backwards; Kaito believes it, Rin says it isn't true, and the old man leaves.
Kaito freezes creeping up on the fly from behind, whispering 'There,' then grabs at empty air as it escapes past his ear.
A tired salaryman with a rice ball says flies only live a day; Kaito is horrified at a death on his shift and vows the fly leaves alive.
A quiet wide shot of Kaito alone mid-floor, head tipped back, staring up at the single fly circling under the ceiling speaker.
A jogger mimes clapping above her head; Kaito raises both hands to try it while Rin notes it's the fourth stranger's method tonight.
Kaito freezes with hands raised to clap, whispers 'There,' claps hard overhead, but the fly darts sideways instead of up.
The tracksuit regular returns suggesting a window; Kaito lists five contradictory methods, none agree, and the fly lands calmly in front of him.
While Kaito slumps, Rin quietly opens the sliding door a crack to let the fly out, then denies it and tells him to keep going.
Kaito, renewed, slowly lowers a cup over the fly resting on the counter as Rin lowers her phone to actually watch.
Splash page: Kaito, in his frozen beat pose but lit with triumph, presses his hand over an upside-down cup clamped on the counter.
Kaito lifts the cup to find nothing under it, then sees the fly sitting calmly on the outside rim; Rin says it was never underneath.
At grey dawn the delivery doors open; the fly drifts out on its own as a second identical fly drifts in, and Rin says 'Night two.'
Final mirror of page one in grey dawn: Kaito stands arms folded staring up at the new fly under the ceiling speaker while Rin films.
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/ 18
Wide night shot of the empty convenience store; Kaito stands behind the counter with arms folded while Rin sits on a stool looking at her phone.
Kaito notices a tiny fly, then points at it declaring there is a fly in the store while Rin, unimpressed, raises her phone to film him.
Kaito freezes with one hand raised, whispering 'There,' then swipes at empty air as the fly drifts away untouched.
Rin talks to her phone; the tall shaved-head tracksuit regular enters with a bag of cans and mimes a cup, and Kaito takes up a cup and card.
Kaito stalks the fly with a cup, slams it down a half-second too late, and stares under the empty cup as Rin comments.
An old man in a cardigan and flat cap tells Kaito flies can't fly backwards; Kaito believes it, Rin says it isn't true, and the old man leaves.
Kaito freezes creeping up on the fly from behind, whispering 'There,' then grabs at empty air as it escapes past his ear.
A tired salaryman with a rice ball says flies only live a day; Kaito is horrified at a death on his shift and vows the fly leaves alive.
A quiet wide shot of Kaito alone mid-floor, head tipped back, staring up at the single fly circling under the ceiling speaker.
A jogger mimes clapping above her head; Kaito raises both hands to try it while Rin notes it's the fourth stranger's method tonight.
Kaito freezes with hands raised to clap, whispers 'There,' claps hard overhead, but the fly darts sideways instead of up.
The tracksuit regular returns suggesting a window; Kaito lists five contradictory methods, none agree, and the fly lands calmly in front of him.
While Kaito slumps, Rin quietly opens the sliding door a crack to let the fly out, then denies it and tells him to keep going.
Kaito, renewed, slowly lowers a cup over the fly resting on the counter as Rin lowers her phone to actually watch.
Splash page: Kaito, in his frozen beat pose but lit with triumph, presses his hand over an upside-down cup clamped on the counter.
Kaito lifts the cup to find nothing under it, then sees the fly sitting calmly on the outside rim; Rin says it was never underneath.
At grey dawn the delivery doors open; the fly drifts out on its own as a second identical fly drifts in, and Rin says 'Night two.'
Final mirror of page one in grey dawn: Kaito stands arms folded staring up at the new fly under the ceiling speaker while Rin films.

Chapter complete

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← Days · Ch.44
Text Version A written companion to this chapter — for accessibility, screen readers, and search.

3 A.M. and the Dead Hours store is spotless — until Kaito spots a single housefly. He decides on the spot that it must be gone by morning, alive: no death on the record on his shift. Rin starts filming "Man vs Fly." The night's regulars each hand him a different, confidently useless folk method — trap it under a cup and a card, approach from behind because flies supposedly can't fly backwards, just wait because it'll die within a day anyway, clap above it because they jump upward to take off, or open a window — and none of them agree. Three times Kaito freezes mid-air, whispers "There," and swipes at nothing. Rin, in a rare unguarded moment, quietly slides the door open a hand's width to let it out, then denies doing it. At last Kaito clamps a cup over the fly in triumph — and lifts it to find nothing underneath; the fly was sitting on the outside of the cup the whole time. At dawn the delivery doors open and the fly drifts out on its own, entirely indifferent to six hours of war — and a second fly drifts in as it goes. Kaito gets his answer and nothing else; Rin got her whole video. The final panel mirrors page one from the same angle, in grey dawn light, the new fly circling under the ceiling speaker.

Page 1

A wide establishing shot of the Dead Hours convenience store at 3 A.M., seen from behind the west counter looking out to the sliding glass doors and the empty wet street. The fluorescent lights are calm and the aisles are spotless. Kaito, arms folded behind the register, looks quietly content. Rin sits on a stool nearby, staring at her matte black phone. KAITO: Clean floor. Empty aisles. Nothing wrong.

Page 2

Three panels. First, a close-up of Kaito's face behind the counter as his eyes lock onto a single tiny black fly crossing in front of him. KAITO: ... Second, Kaito leans over the counter and points dead-seriously at the fly. Rin glances up, flat and unimpressed. KAITO: There is a fly in my store. RIN: So? Third, Kaito raises one finger like a solemn vow while Rin lifts her phone to film him. The fly hovers between them. KAITO: It's gone by morning. Alive. RIN: Man versus Fly. Night one.

Page 3

Two panels — the running-gag beat. First, Kaito is frozen mid-motion behind the counter, one hand raised flat and perfectly still, his whole body locked, a bead of sweat at his temple, eyes fixed on the fly. KAITO: There. Second, he swipes his flat hand through empty air. The fly has already drifted away past his shoulder. His face falls. KAITO: ...gone.

Page 4

Four panels. First, Rin holds her phone toward the camera, speaking deadpan. RIN: Six years, no customers on time. One fly, instant purpose. Second, the sliding doors open and the tracksuit regular walks in — tall, shaved head, grey zip-up tracksuit, a clear plastic bag of empty cans in his hand. Third, the tracksuit regular mimes lowering a cup over something. Kaito listens intently at the counter. REGULAR: Cup over it. Slide a card under. Easy. Fourth, Kaito grips a blank plastic cup in one hand and a flat card in the other, nodding seriously, as Rin films. KAITO: Cup. Card. Understood. RIN: He has a plan now. Terrible.

Page 5

Three panels. First, Kaito creeps along an aisle end with a blank cup raised, stalking the fly resting on a shelf. Second, he slams the cup down — the fly lifting off just early enough to escape above the rim. KAITO: —no. Third, Kaito stares under the lifted empty cup, a card useless in his other hand, as the fly circles above his head. Rin films from behind. KAITO: It knew. RIN: It's a fly.

Page 6

Four panels. First, an old man in a brown cardigan and flat cap, leaning on a wooden cane, holds up one finger at the counter delivering folk wisdom while Kaito leans in. OLD MAN: Flies can't fly backwards. Come at it from behind. Second, a close-up of Kaito absorbing this like scripture, eyes wide. KAITO: ...Can't fly backwards. Third, Rin speaks flatly to her phone, one eyebrow raised. RIN: That's not even true. He believes it. Fourth, the old man is already shuffling out the doors, cane tapping, not waiting to see the result.

Page 7

Two panels — the beat again, from behind. First, Kaito is frozen mid-motion, one hand raised flat and still, creeping up on the fly from behind, a sweat drop at his temple. KAITO: There. Second, he grabs at the air from behind. The fly is gone again, zipping past his ear. Flat despair crosses his face. KAITO: ...it went backwards.

Page 8

Four panels. First, a tired salaryman in a rumpled suit and loosened tie stands at the counter holding a plastic-wrapped rice ball, shrugging. SALARYMAN: Flies only live a day. Just wait. It'll die. Second, Kaito is horrified, a hand to his chest. KAITO: Die? In my store? On my shift? Third, Kaito grips the counter edge, grave and resolved. KAITO: No deaths on the record. It leaves alive. Fourth, the salaryman is already gone into the night as Rin films Kaito's back, deadpan. RIN: He's negotiating with a fly's mortality.

Page 9

A single quiet wide panel. Kaito stands alone in the middle of the shop floor between the aisles, head tipped back, staring up at the fly as it circles under the one round ceiling speaker. Rain streaks the dark glass. The moment is still and almost existential. KAITO: Sealed doors. Spotless floor. Where did you come from.

Page 10

Four panels. First, a young woman jogger with a high ponytail, in a zip-up running hoodie and holding a water bottle, mimes a clap above her own head at the counter. JOGGER: Clap above it. They jump up when they take off. Second, Kaito nods and raises both hands overhead, ready to clap. KAITO: Above. They go up. Third, Rin speaks flatly to her phone. RIN: Fourth method tonight. All different. All from strangers. Fourth, the jogger is already jogging out into the night, not looking back.

Page 11

Three panels — the beat a third time. First, Kaito is frozen mid-motion with both hands raised overhead, poised to clap, eyes fixed on the fly hovering above him, sweat at his temple. KAITO: There. Second, he claps hard overhead — a sharp CLAP between his palms — but the fly is untouched, darting sideways instead of up. KAITO: Up. Go up. Third, Kaito stares at his own empty clapped hands, hollow, as Rin films from behind. KAITO: It didn't go up. RIN: Nothing goes the way strangers say.

Page 12

Six panels. First, the tracksuit regular is back at the counter with his bag of cans, shrugging. REGULAR: Still going? Just open a window. Second, a frazzled Kaito counts off on his fingers. KAITO: Cup. Behind. Wait. Clap. Window. Third, an extreme close-up of Kaito's face, one eye twitching. KAITO: None of them agree. Fourth, the tracksuit regular gestures back at the sealed glass doors. REGULAR: These doors don't open for people on time. Fifth, Rin speaks to her phone, the most amused she ever gets, a faint smirk. RIN: Five experts. Zero facts. One fly. Sixth, the fly lands calmly on the counter right in front of Kaito, who stares down at it, exhausted. KAITO: ...

Page 13

Three panels — Rin's rare unguarded moment. First, Kaito is slumped against the counter, worn down, his back to the doors. Behind him, unseen, Rin steps to the sliding doors and nudges one open a hand's width, her phone lowered to her side for once. Second, Rin stands by the cracked-open door, looking away, casual, as the fly drifts toward the gap. There is a rare softness on her face. RIN: ...draft in here. Third, Kaito turns to notice the open door — but Rin is already back on her stool, phone up and filming, giving nothing away. KAITO: Did you— RIN: Keep going. It's good content.

Page 14

Three panels — the careful final attempt. First, Kaito, renewed, moves slow and surgical with a blank cup, stalking the fly now resting on the counter near the register, holding his breath. Second, an extreme close-up of his steady hand lowering the cup to a centimetre above the resting fly. KAITO: Slow. Slow. Third, Rin lowers her phone slightly, actually watching for once, quiet. RIN: ...

Page 15

A single dramatic splash page — the beat pose, inverted. Kaito is frozen in the exact same locked mid-motion stance as all his earlier freezes, one hand pressed flat over an upside-down cup clamped on the counter. But this time his face is lit with pure triumph and relief instead of dread, a single sweat drop of relief. The camera looks up at him from a low angle. KAITO: ...got you.

Page 16

Two panels — the reveal. First, Kaito lifts the cup with a card slid under it and peers underneath. There is nothing there — bare, empty counter. His triumph curdles into confusion. KAITO: ...empty. Second, the camera pulls back: the fly is sitting calmly on the OUTSIDE of the upturned cup, on the rim near Kaito's thumb. It was never underneath. Kaito stares at it, hollow, as Rin films. KAITO: It was never under there. RIN: Never was.

Page 17

Three panels — dawn. First, grey dawn light fills the glass. The sliding doors stand open as a morning delivery arrives, a stacked crate silhouette at the threshold, pale light spilling in. Kaito watches from the counter, spent and still. Second, the fly drifts lazily out through the open doors into the dawn, entirely on its own, indifferent to everything. Kaito watches it go, defeated, not moving. KAITO: ...you could've done that any time. Third, at the same open door a second identical fly drifts IN from the dawn street as the first leaves — a fresh fly, now inside. Kaito's eye catches it, dead inside, as Rin's phone rises again. RIN: Night two.

Page 18

A single wide panel mirroring the very first page, from the same angle behind the counter looking out to the doors — but in grey dawn light now, the street outside faintly waking. Kaito stands behind the counter, arms folded, staring up at the single new fly circling under the ceiling speaker. Rin sits on her stool, phone up, filming, faintly satisfied. Nothing was won; the night simply reset. KAITO: Clean floor. Empty aisles. One fly.