The clouds rolled in with a strange urgency that morning. Not heavy enough for rain, but thick enough to dim the sun. A low hum seemed to hang in the air—inaudible, yet impossible to ignore.
Kazuki walked to school with his hands in his pockets, head down, the memory of last night's dream still clawing at the edges of his mind.
She called to me again... But it wasn't my name.
He glanced toward the rooftops as he passed the shrine. For a split second, he thought he saw someone watching him from the torii gate—but when he blinked, they were gone.
"Ugh. I'm seriously losing it."
---
Yui hadn't joined him this morning. She'd left earlier than usual, saying something about needing to "check something." Their parents hadn't thought it strange, but Kazuki couldn't shake the feeling that she was hiding something.
And then there was Miyu.
---
She was already in their homeroom when he arrived, sketchbook open, hair tied in a short side ponytail that swayed with every bounce of her pen. She didn't greet him with a wave or her usual "Good morning, peasant~" like she often did. Instead, her eyes tracked him as he sat down beside her.
"So... did the shadows whisper sweet nothings into your ear again?" she asked with an impish grin.
Kazuki blinked. "What?"
She leaned in slightly, whispering, "You look like someone stepped on your soul."
He chuckled awkwardly. "That's oddly specific."
"I'm oddly specific," she replied.
He narrowed his eyes. "You said something yesterday… about time skipping a beat. What did you mean?"
She stared at him for a long moment. Then her grin returned. "Wouldn't it be fun if I told you that you were living in a fractured time stream and your memories were sealed to prevent interdimensional collapse?"
He stared.
"Kidding~!" She turned the page in her sketchbook. "Or am I?"
Kazuki couldn't tell if she was joking. That was the trouble with Miyu—she always walked the line between truth and teasing so flawlessly, it was impossible to know when she crossed it.
But something told him... she knew more than she let on.
---
After classes, Kazuki stayed behind to help rearrange the desks for an upcoming parent meeting. Jun had skipped off early with a soccer excuse, and Souta had vanished mysteriously during lunch.
Miyu stayed.
She didn't offer to help, of course. Instead, she sat cross-legged on the teacher's desk, doodling lazily.
"Why do you hang around me?" Kazuki asked, half-joking.
"Because your aura's messy," she said without looking up.
"What?"
"I mean, you're interesting. You crackle."
"Crackle?"
She looked up, dead serious for a moment. "Like old vinyl before the music starts. Static and silence and something waiting."
Then she smiled. "Also, you're kinda cute when you're confused."
He rolled his eyes. "Thanks, I guess?"
"You're welcome."
---
Later that evening, as the sky deepened into lavender, Yui stood at the hilltop shrine, facing the wind. The town stretched below in neat little blocks, a quiet veil of calm barely hiding the uneasy pulse that flowed beneath.
She felt it—faint, but growing.
"Another surge today," she muttered. "They're starting to gather."
"Felt it too," came a voice from the shadows.
Miyu stepped out from behind one of the stone lanterns, her schoolbag slung over her shoulder and her usual smirk in place.
Yui turned to her. "You were too obvious with him."
"I was playing," Miyu said.
"This isn't a game, Miyu."
"I know, Yui-chan." She leaned against the shrine's torii gate. "But he doesn't remember yet. And the seal's still holding. Barely."
Yui's brows furrowed. "His form's weakening. The limiter's breaking earlier than expected. If the memories start leaking—"
"I'll cover it," Miyu said simply. "Like always."
Yui sighed, her small fingers clenching the edge of her jacket. "I hate lying to him."
"I don't," Miyu said with a wink. "It's the only way I get away with stealing his lunch."
Yui didn't smile.
"The next ripple is soon," she said quietly. "We'll need to be ready."
Miyu nodded. "I'll stay close. You keep the house sealed."
They stood in silence for a moment, watching the sunset bleed gold into the horizon.
Then, like a whisper carried on the wind, they both heard it—an echo. A voice that didn't belong to the world of the living.
A name.
Not Kazuki.
But Haruka.
---
That night, as Kazuki slept, a strange warmth stirred in his chest. Not unpleasant—but wrong. Like something trapped behind glass had stirred for the first time in years.
He dreamed again.
The fire returned. The violet-eyed girl. But this time, she stepped closer. Close enough for him to see the shimmer of tears in her eyes.
"You're late," she whispered.
He reached out.
And woke up in the dark.