The tablet displays a single open tab.
HOLLOWS
Below it, Aina has divided every confirmed encounter into three provisional categories.
WATCHER
Observes awakened souls from a distance.
Appears behind targets, inside reflections, or at the edge of crowded spaces.
No confirmed physical contact.
DISTORTER
Alters temperature, light, sound, distance, and mechanical barriers.
Can isolate a person without removing them from the physical location.
Some effects can outlast the Hollow’s direct contact.
EXTRACTOR
Makes physical contact with the soul.
Targets memory and the light carried by the Star.
Capable of speech, planning, and direct injury.
A fourth section waits beneath them.
VISIBILITY
Confirmed: the four awakened souls and members of their family lines.
Confirmed through the Chronicle: descendants of those who preserved it and those who altered it, including the bloodlines still trying to prevent the final door from being closed.
Unawakened witnesses do not perceive Hollows directly.
Lack of perception does not prevent injury or death.
The final line remains underlined.
The three categories may describe behavior rather than separate forms.
Continue observing.
The screen dims.
Then it goes black.
Aina is already halfway through her bedroom door when she remembers the tablet is still on her desk.
She turns, crosses the room, and slides it into the padded compartment of her school bag.
Downstairs, Sayuri waits beside Aina’s suitcase with one hand resting on its extended handle.
“You forgot something.”
“I remembered before reaching the stairs.”
“That is still forgetting.”
Aina lifts her bag onto her shoulder.
“Temporarily.”
Sayuri accepts the distinction with a slight movement near her mouth.
Yoko checks the time from the kitchen doorway.
“If you two miss the train after waking the entire house before sunrise, I will be disappointed.”
“We have twenty-three minutes,” Aina says.
“Twenty-one,” Sayuri corrects.
Aina looks toward the clock.
Sayuri is right.
“Ryosuke and Saki are already outside,” Yoko adds.
That ends the discussion.
Aina hugs her mother, promises to call after they reach the inn, and follows Sayuri through the front door.
Ryosuke stands beside the garden wall with his luggage arranged neatly at his feet.
Saki waits beside him, holding a convenience-store tea and looking far too awake for the hour.
“You came back for the tablet,” Ryosuke says.
Aina stops beside them.
“How did you know?”
“Your curtains opened twice.”
Saki takes another drink.
“It is reassuring to begin Nationals with proof that the top student in our grade can still forget ordinary objects.”
“I did not forget it.”
“Temporarily,” Sayuri says.
Saki looks at her.
“You have already heard this defense.”
“It was unconvincing the first time.”
Aina takes the handle of her suitcase from Sayuri.
Sayuri does not release it.
“I can carry it.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you still holding it?”
“Because the station is twelve minutes away.”
Sayuri begins walking.
Aina keeps hold of the handle and follows beside her.
Ryosuke lifts his luggage.
Saki watches the girls share the suitcase for several steps.
“Should we offer assistance?”
“No,” Ryosuke says.
“You answered quickly.”
“I have seen this before.”
The four continue toward the station beneath the pale light of early morning.
✦ ✦ ✦
Tokyo Station is crowded with high-school athletes.
Track teams move through the concourse in matching warm-up jackets.
Kendo equipment bags rise above the crowd.
Swimmers carry identical duffel bags marked with prefectural names, and several volleyball teams occupy an entire section beneath the departure board.
The railway has reserved blocks of seats for Inter-High competitors.
That does not make the platforms quieter.
Tokui gathers beside the club advisor near the entrance to their train car.
The girls stand in one group and the boys in another, twelve suitcases arranged between them.
Their bows and team equipment left Tokui three days ago inside reinforced shipping cases.
Only their personal arrows, gloves, uniforms, and carry-on bags travel with them.
Morita checks the luggage count twice.
Ishida checks her ticket four times.
Fujimoto says nothing, but her attention remains fixed on the departure board as though the platform number might change without warning.
Matsuda, the girls’ second-year reserve, keeps the six equipment receipts inside a transparent folder.
Across from her, Kuroda carries the corresponding paperwork for the boys.
Neither has entered Tokui’s starting order, but both earned the right to travel as registered members of the national teams.
Across the concourse, a familiar dark-green uniform appears between two groups of athletes.
Korin Academy.
The Chiba school defeated Tokui by one arrow in the Kanto Tournament final.
They look different now.
Not larger.
Sharper.
Korin’s closer, Kanda, walks at the front of the group with her equipment bag over one shoulder.
Five teammates follow her, including Hoshino, the second-year reserve.
Her hair is shorter than it was in June, cut well above the line of her collar.
Without its former length, nothing softens the precision of her posture or the watchfulness of her violet eyes.
She notices Sayuri first then Aina.
Her attention passes over Ryosuke and Saki before returning to the girls, as though confirming all four are present.
Kanda changes direction and approaches them.
“Suzuki.
Tanaka.”
Sayuri inclines her head.
“Kanda.”
“You both qualified for the individual competition.”
“So did you,” Aina says.
Kanda looks at her right side.
The movement is brief, but Aina notices.
“Your position shifted during Kanto final,” Kanda says.
“I wondered whether you were injured.”
The comment caught Sayuri’s attention.
Aina answers before she can.
“It no longer hurts.”
Kanda accepts that without asking for an explanation.
“Good.
I would rather not defeat an incomplete version of you.”
Sayuri steps half a pace closer to Aina.
“You will have to defeat both of us first.”
Kanda’s expression changes by the smallest amount.
“That is why I came.”
The boarding announcement begins.
The crowd compresses toward the marked entrances, and a long equipment case swings from the shoulder of a passing athlete.
Kanda shifts before it can enter the space between Aina and Saki.
The case passes behind her instead.
She does not appear to notice that she moved.
Ryosuke does.
For less than a second, the station becomes a stone passage crowded with smoke.
The same midnight-black-haired figure stands at its narrowest point while four people move behind her.
The image leaves before he can see which direction she is facing.
Kanda returns to Korin as her team’s line begins moving.
Saki appears beside Aina.
“She seems pleasant.”
“You say that about everyone who threatens us,” Ryosuke says.
“Only when they do it politely.”
The doors open.
Teams enter in controlled disorder.
Tokui finds its assigned seats in the middle of a train car occupied almost entirely by Inter-High competitors.
Korin sits six rows ahead.
Two boys’ teams from the Kanto region occupy the opposite side of the aisle.
Okabe recognizes one of their captains and straightens immediately.
Saki follows his attention to maroon uniforms.”Hakuryo.”
Ryosuke nods.
Hakuryo High represented Kanagawa at the Kanto Tournament.
Their boys defeated Tokui during the semifinal before the final placement matches.
Their captain sits among four other starters and their reserve.
He meets Ryosuke’s gaze across the aisle and gives him one brief nod.
No one needs to explain what it means.
Tokui qualified through Tokyo.
Korin advanced through Chiba.
Hakuryo earned Kanagawa’s place.
Separated prefectural routes have brought all three schools onto the same train.
The doors close.
Tokyo begins sliding past the windows.
✦ ✦ ✦
For the first hour, the car never settles completely.
Equipment shifts overhead.
Coaches review schedules.
Students compare qualifying scores in voices meant to sound casual.
Aina opens her tablet but does not return to the Hollow tab.
She studies the official program instead.
Day one belongs to the individual competition.
Four arrows in the preliminary round.
Three hits are required to continue.
Four more in the semifinal.
Again, three hits.
The survivors enter a final in which every miss removes another archer from contention.
After four consecutive hits, the standard targets are replaced by smaller ones.
Day two belongs to team preliminaries.
Five archers.
Four arrows each.
Twenty total hits determine which thirty-two schools reach the elimination bracket.
Days three and four decide everything else.
Aina scrolls to the final page.
For every third-year on the train, the tournament ends with retirement from the club.
Their final arrow may come tomorrow.
Or on the fourth day.
No one knows which until it misses.
Sayuri reads over her shoulder.
“You have memorized that.”
“I am confirming it.”
“For the third time.”
“The schedule has not changed.”
“Then your confirmation is complete.” Sayuri presses the power button and darkens the screen.
Aina looks at her.
“You turned off my tablet.”
“You have been awake since four thirty.”
“Five.”
Sayuri gives her a level look.
Aina lowers her voice.
“Approximately five.”
“Sleep.”
“I am not tired.”
The train enters a tunnel.
The window becomes a mirror.
Aina sees herself, Sayuri beside her, Ryosuke across the aisle, and Saki leaning back in the next row.
Another figure stands in the narrow space behind them.
Too tall for the train car.
Its neck bends beneath the ceiling.
Its empty face hangs above the reflected seats.
Aina does not turn.
Sayuri’s hand closes around her wrist.
Across the aisle, Ryosuke’s attention lifts toward the glass.
Saki stops moving.
The Hollow raises one arm.
Its reflected fingers lengthen toward the four seats.
Six rows ahead, Kanda turns.
She cannot be looking at the reflection from that angle.
Her gaze settles on the space occupied by Aina, Sayuri, Ryosuke, and Saki instead.
One hand closes around the top of her seat.
A dark line passes through the window glass behind her—not shadow, not light, but the suggestion of a curtain drawn across the aisle.
The Hollow’s reaching arm loses its edges where the line crosses it.
Sayuri sees midnight-black hair beyond a white archway.
Ryosuke feels stone beneath his boots and the certainty that someone is holding the passage behind him.
One word strikes through Saki in Kanda’s calm cadence.
“Stay.”
The impressions vanish together.
The train leaves the tunnel.
Morning light replaces the reflection.
Nothing stands behind them.
Kanda remains turned for another moment.
A slight line forms between her brows, as though she has forgotten why she looked back.
Then Hoshino asks her something, and she faces forward.
Two students from Hakuryo walk through the aisle carrying drinks.
Neither looks toward the place where the Hollow appeared.
They could not see it.
That does not mean it could not reach them.
Aina unlocks her tablet again.
Sayuri does not object this time.
Under WATCHER, Aina adds one line.
Confirmed aboard a moving train.
Distance from fixed door unknown.
She hesitates, then adds another.
Approach disrupted when Kanda Yukina turned toward the four awakened souls.
Cause unknown.
She saves the entry.
No one sleeps for the remainder of the journey.
✦ ✦ ✦
The train reaches Nagano before noon.
Tournament volunteers direct the arriving schools toward a row of charter buses outside the station.
Tokui loads its luggage beneath the assigned bus and joins Korin, Hakuryo, and one other school inside.
The city thins behind them.
Apartment buildings give way to orchards.
The road climbs through green foothills, following a river that flashes between cedar trees and retaining walls.
Steam rises from vents near the first buildings of Yudanaka.
Their assigned inn stands near the upper end of the hot-spring town, a wide wooden building with three connected wings and stone steps polished by years of visitors.
Three school names wait on a board inside the entrance.
TOKUI HIGH
KORIN ACADEMY
HAKURYO HIGH
Saki reads them in order.
“Efficient.”
Ryosuke looks at him.
“For what?”
“Ensuring no one forgets whom they may have to defeat.”
The club advisor collects the room keys from the front desk.
The six girls receive one large tatami room in the east wing.
The six boys receive another across the corridor.
The advisor’s room is smaller and positioned between the stairs and both teams.
“That placement is deliberate,” Saki says.
“Yes,” the advisor answers.
Saki appears mildly disappointed that the observation earned no reaction.
Before the teams enter their separate rooms, Ryosuke confirms the next check-in for their return from official practice.
Saki looks across the narrow corridor between the two doors.
“We are sleeping less than five meters apart.”
“The Hollow at Regionals reached me inside a building filled with competitors,” Aina says.
Saki considers that, then takes out his phone and sets the reminder.
The girls’ room has a low table at its center, a row of folded floor chairs, and enough open space for six futons.
Their luggage fits inside the wall closet only after Morita rearranges it twice.
Ishida claims the place nearest the window.
Fujimoto chooses the opposite side.
Morita begins assigning the remaining spaces by seniority before remembering that Matsuda is the only second-year among them.
Matsuda accepts the place nearest the door without complaint.
As reserve, she has spent the summer learning to fit wherever the starting five leave room.
Sayuri places her bag beside Aina’s.
The matter resolves itself.
They have less than twenty minutes before the bus leaves for equipment inspection and official practice.
No one opens the bathrobes provided by the inn.
No one discusses the hot spring downstairs.
Nationals has already reduced the mountain retreat to a room where they are changing clothes as quickly as possible.
✦ ✦ ✦
The competition venue occupies a sports park outside Nagano City.
Temporary preparation halls connect to a large covered shooting range facing an open target field.
National banners hang above the entrances.
Digital result boards line the far wall, already filled with school names from every prefecture.
The scale changes the moment Tokui enters.
At the Preliminaries, Aina recognized most of the strongest Tokyo archers.
At Regionals, Sayuri had studied every school likely to reach the final rounds.
Here, neither preparation is enough.
Every line contains someone who dominated another part of Japan.
Every school arrived after defeating opponents who believed they belonged here too.
The familiar archers have changed as well.
Kanda’s release is cleaner than it was in June.
Hakuryo’s captain has shortened the pause before his draw without losing control.
An individual finalist Aina faced at the Preliminary now places four practice arrows inside a space no wider than her hand.
No one spent July protecting an old result.
Everyone improved.
Aina steps into Tokui’s assigned practice rotation.
Her first arrow strikes near the center.
The second lands beside it.
The third divides the remaining space between them.
The fourth sits slightly higher but remains close enough to complete a tight group.
No pain catches beneath her ribs.
No scar burns across her abdomen.
Her body completes the form without compensating for an injury no one else could see.
When she lowers her bow, Sayuri is watching.
“Anything?”
“Nothing.”
“Your side?”
“Nothing.” Aina reaches her and presses two fingers briefly against the back of Sayuri’s hand.
“You removed it.”
“We removed it.”
Sayuri’s attention returns to the target.
“Then keep shooting like that.”
“I intend to.”
High above the target bank, a thin figure stands beneath the edge of the roof.
Aina sees it after Sayuri turns away.
The same bent neck.
The same empty face.
An event official walks beneath it carrying a bundle of replacement target papers.
The Hollow follows him with its head.
The official continues without looking up.
Then the figure turns toward Aina.
She holds its empty gaze without meeting anything that could be called eyes.
The Hollow leans forward.
Korin is called into the neighboring rotation.
Kanda crosses behind the waiting line with her bow at her side.
As she passes Aina, her attention lifts toward the roof.
Not to the Hollow.
Slightly beneath it.
Her pace slows.
The air between the beam and the shooting line bends so faintly that Aina mistakes it for heat until a narrow vertical distortion moves with Kanda.
The Hollow draws back from it.
“Kanda?” Hoshino calls.
Kanda looks toward her teammate.
The distortion vanishes.
It withdraws into the shadow beneath the roof and disappears.
Watcher, Aina thinks.
For now.
✦ ✦ ✦
That night, three schools share the inn’s dining hall without sharing their dinner.
The staff has divided the room into clearly assigned sections.
Tokui occupies the center, with the girls’ and boys’ teams seated at separate tables.
Korin sits nearest the garden doors, divided along the same lines, while Hakuryo occupies the tables against the opposite wall.
Advisors and coaches sit where they can oversee their respective groups.
No one crosses into another school’s section.
Even so, glances travel between tables whenever someone reaches for a bowl or turns to answer an advisor.
Three schools pretend not to assess one another over dinner.
Individual trays have been arranged according to each delegation’s head count: rice, grilled river fish, mountain vegetables, pickles, and bowls of soup steaming in the heavy summer air.
Tokui’s club advisor waits until both tables have begun eating.
“Tomorrow is the individual competition,” he says.
“Those of you entered will shoot for yourselves.”
At the girls’ table, Aina and Sayuri look toward him.
Ryosuke and Saki do the same from the boys’ table beside theirs.
“The rest of you will support them without neglecting your preparation for the team competition on day two.
No one changes equipment tonight.
No one stays awake reviewing scores that no longer matter.
Lights out at ten.”
Saki raises his soup bowl slightly.
“Was that directed at anyone specifically?”
“Yes.”
“May I ask whom?”
“No.”
Across from him, Ryosuke continues eating.
Aina suspects the instruction was directed at all four of them for different reasons.
Outside the garden doors, steam drifts across the stones.
For one moment, a narrow shadow occupies the space between two lanterns.
At Korin’s table, Kanda sets down her chopsticks and looks toward the garden.
Her head turns before Aina’s does.
Then a server crosses between the lanterns.
The shadow is gone.
✦ ✦ ✦
Day one begins with the opening ceremony.
Schools fill the floor of the sports hall in prefectural order.
Officials welcome the athletes, introduce the judges, and repeat the rules every competitor already memorized before leaving home.
A ceremonial archer enters the range alone.
Her movements are slow enough to quiet the remaining whispers in the gallery.
She raises the bow beneath the national banner and releases one arrow into the center of the target.
The sound carries through the hall.
Then the individual competition begins.
The boys shoot first.
Saki enters an early group.
His first arrow hits.
The second misses just outside the lower edge.
He corrects the release and records two more hits.
Three out of four.
Enough to advance.
Ryosuke follows several groups later and leaves no uncertainty.
Four arrows.
Four hits.
He walks from the range without looking at the result display.
Saki meets him near the exit.
“You could pretend the fourth was difficult.”
“It was.”
“Your face failed to communicate that.”
“It was not required.”
By the end of the boys’ preliminary round, nearly half the field is gone.
Some miss their first two arrows and spend the remaining shots knowing perfection will only bring them to the minimum.
Others reach three hits and miss the fourth without consequence.
One archer records two center hits, then sends his last two arrows outside the target and leaves before the display confirms his elimination.
Nationals does not preserve reputation.
It records four arrows.
The girls begin shortly before noon.
Kanda shoots before Tokui.
She records four hits.
Sayuri enters three groups later.
Her first arrow strikes high.
The second lands closer to center.
The third and fourth follow without any visible change in her expression.
Four hits.
She returns to the waiting area and stops beside Aina.
“Your turn.”
“I know.”
“Do not analyze Kanda’s grouping.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were looking at it.”
“Looking and analyzing are not identical.”
Sayuri touches Aina’s wrist once.
“There is only your target.”
The words settle more effectively than an argument.
Aina enters with the next group.
The heat reaches her first.
It has gathered beneath the covered roof and inside the layers of her kyudogi.
Sweat presses between her shoulder blades before she reaches her position.
She sets her feet.
Raises the first arrow.
The target is twenty-eight meters away.
Nothing stands behind it.
Aina draws.
No pain answers.
She releases.
The arrow strikes near the center.
Her second lands slightly left of it.
The third enters the same tight group.
By the fourth, the entire hall has narrowed to the line between her hand and the target.
She releases.
Hit.
Four arrows.
Four hits.
Sayuri waits beyond the exit until Aina is within reach.
“Your fourth was high.”
Aina looks at her.
“It hit.”
“You say that as though I have used the same argument before.”
“You have.”
Sayuri considers it.
“Then I withdraw the criticism.”
✦ ✦ ✦
By early afternoon, the individual semifinal field is less than half its original size.
This time, the competitors shoot from seated form.
This time, Saki does not recover from his second miss.
His first arrow hits.
The second leaves the target to the right.
The third lands low.
He hits the fourth, but two are not enough.
Saki completes the closing movement before leaving the range.
Only when he reaches Ryosuke does his expression loosen.
“That was inconvenient.”
“Your third release shortened.”
“I know.”
“You corrected it on the fourth.”
“I also know.”
Ryosuke says nothing more.
Saki exhales through his nose.
“Thank you.”
Ryosuke enters his semifinal and records three hits.
Enough to reach the final.
Sayuri records four.
Kanda records three.
Aina places all four inside the target, three of them near the center.
When the girls’ final list appears, Tokui occupies two lines.
Korin occupies one.
The remaining names belong to schools Aina knew only from Sayuri’s notes.
The boys’ final comes first.
Every surviving archer carries one arrow onto the range.
One shot.
A hit continues the competition.
A miss ends it.
The first round removes three boys.
Ryosuke remains.
The second removes two more.
Ryosuke remains.
By the fourth arrow, only seven archers stand between him and the national title.
His release sounds clean.
The arrow misses by less than the width of its shaft.
He does not react until the result appears.
Then he bows and leaves the range.
Saki meets him at the barrier.
“You were almost happy during the history assignment,” Saki says.
“This expression is worse.”
“I missed.”
“By almost nothing.”
“That is still a miss.”
“Yes.
I assumed accuracy would comfort you.”
Ryosuke looks back toward the final.
“It does not.”
The girls are called before the boys finish determining the lower placements.
Aina carries one arrow into the range.
Sayuri stands two positions ahead of her.
Kanda stands beyond Sayuri.
The first round removes four archers.
All three remain.
The second removes two.
All three remain.
The third leaves six girls.
Aina begins to hear the difference between each release.
Kanda’s string carries a short, hard note.
Sayuri’s is lower and cleaner.
Her own reaches her last because she is inside it when it happens.
The fourth arrow reduces the field to three.
Kanda.
Sayuri.
Aina.
Three archers remain on the line, but the order stirs a different arrangement beneath Aina’s memory.
A midnight-black-haired girl stands outside a broken circle.
An amber-eyed archer holds the Star’s hand within it.
Somewhere behind them, the Crest braces against stone while the Mirror calls a warning Aina cannot hear.
The girl beyond the circle does not look at any one of them.
She watches every opening around all four.
The target field returns before Aina can find her face.
Officials step onto the field and replace the standard targets with smaller ones.
From the shooting line, each white circle appears no larger than a distant coin.
Aina returns with her fifth arrow.
Kanda shoots first.
Hit.
Sayuri follows.
Hit.
Aina raises her bow.
The heat presses against her face.
Sweat gathers near her temple.
Somewhere in the gallery, hundreds of people wait without making a sound.
She does not look toward Sayuri.
She does not look toward Kanda.
There is only the target.
She releases.
Hit.
They return with a sixth arrow.
Kanda’s release breaks first.
Her arrow strikes the outer edge and falls outside.
The Korin section releases one shared sound of disappointment before becoming quiet again.
Kanda bows and leaves the range.
At the boundary, she looks back once—not toward her missed arrow, but toward Sayuri and Aina still waiting on the line.
Her attention shifts beyond them to the gallery where Ryosuke and Saki stand.
Only after finding all four does she continue through the exit.
Sayuri raises her bow.
Her arrow lands inside the target.
Aina answers with another hit.
Two remain.
Both from Tokui.
The gallery changes.
Their teammates can no longer cheer for one without asking the other to lose.
Morita presses both hands against her mouth.
Ishida looks close to tears.
Fujimoto sits between them, rigid with the effort of remaining composed.
The seventh arrow begins.
Sayuri draws.
For the first time all day, Aina hears the smallest delay before her release.
The arrow passes the edge of the target.
Miss.
Sayuri lowers her bow.
She does not look at Aina.
She waits.
Aina’s final arrow rests against the string.
If she hits, the title is hers.
If she misses, they continue.
She raises the bow.
The target waits.
No figure stands behind it.
No scar burns beneath her uniform.
No other life enters the moment.
Aina expands into the draw and releases.
The arrow strikes the small target with a sharp, final sound.
Hit.
The Tokui section erupts.
Aina remains in position until the judges confirm the result.
NATIONAL INDIVIDUAL CHAMPION.
The words appear beside her name on the board.
For several seconds, she cannot connect them to herself.
Then Sayuri reaches her beyond the exit.
“You won.”
“By one arrow.”
“That is how winning works.”
Aina searches her face.
“Are you upset?”
“Yes.” The answer comes without hesitation.
Aina’s chest tightens.
Sayuri continues.
“I wanted to hit.”
“Oh.”
“I am not upset that you did.”
The tension leaves Aina all at once.
Sayuri looks toward the board, where their names occupy first and second.
“Tomorrow, we shoot on the same side.”
“And after that?”
“After that, I defeat you during the next ranking round.”
Aina smiles.
“Naturally.”
Kanda approaches them with a bandage wrapped around one finger where the string scraped her during the final.
She looks at Aina.
“That was the version of you I wanted to face.” Then she holds out her hand.
Aina takes it.
“Thank you.”
The contact opens no complete fragment.
Aina feels only the cool pressure of a hand against unseen glass and four pulses answering from its other side.
Kanda’s fingers tighten once.
Surprise enters her violet eyes, too quickly controlled to become a question.
“Do not thank me tomorrow.” Kanda returns to Korin.
The awards ceremony follows.
Aina stands at the center of the podium with Sayuri beside her and Kanda one place lower.
Cameras flash from beyond the marked boundary.
The national medal rests against Aina’s chest, heavier than its size should allow.
Above the gallery, beneath the highest support beam, a narrow figure watches.
Aina sees it while the official reads her name.
Sayuri sees it one moment later.
Neither moves.
On Aina’s other side, Kanda turns toward the same beam.
Her gaze stops below the Hollow, fixed on an empty section of wall.
She cannot see what they see.
Yet the space around the three medalists seems to narrow and close, as though something has drawn its edges together.
The Hollow remains until the applause begins.
Then it disappears.