Yui's room was dark except for the sliver of moonlight seeping through the curtain gap. The wind outside whispered against the windowpane, rhythmic, almost like someone breathing beside her bed.
Then came the voice — soft, female, sweet at first — but with every word, it twisted like a blade.
"Jump," it said. Yui's eyes darted around. The dream was too real.
She was standing inside a decayed room, the floorboards creaking under her bare feet. The air reeked of rust and old blood. In front of her stood a woman — long hair, black dress, her face hidden in shadow. The woman's hand held a knife pressed against the neck of a small boy. His eyes were wide, lips trembling.
"If you want him alive…" the woman whispered, her voice breaking into a distorted echo, "…you must jump."
Yui's heart hammered in her chest. "No, please—" The blade tilted, a thin red line blooming against the boy's throat.
"WAIT—!"
She screamed, body jerking upright in bed. Her breath came in violent gasps, and the sheets tangled around her legs. Sweat drenched her forehead as she clutched her chest, trying to calm the pounding beneath her ribs.
Masaru burst into the room, the door slamming open so hard it rattled on its hinges.
"Yui!" he shouted, rushing to her side. He cupped her face, eyes scanning her for injuries. "Hey, it's okay. It's me. You're safe."
She could barely hear him over the rush of her own pulse. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. "That nightmare… again…" she whispered.
Masaru's voice softened immediately. "That one?"
She nodded, trembling. "The woman… the knife… I could almost feel it this time."
Masaru sighed and pulled her into his chest. His hand brushed through her hair in slow, steady motions, grounding her back to the present. "You're okay, Yui. It's over. It was just a dream."
But as he said it, his gaze flicked toward the window — the curtain moved though the wind outside had stopped. For a second, something pale glimmered behind it, then vanished.
He tightened his hold on her. "I'll make you some tea, okay? You need to breathe."
She nodded weakly.
A few minutes later, the faint aroma of chamomile filled the room. Masaru sat beside her, handing her a steaming cup. His usual teasing smile was gone; this time, his expression was calm, serious, protective.
"After school," he said quietly, "we'll go see Dr. Kobayashi. No arguments."
Yui didn't argue. The dream still clung to her skin like smoke. When Masaru left to let her rest, she glanced at the clock — 3:17 AM.
At the same time, she'd woken from every nightmare.
She calmed herself, telling herself that it was a dream, and went to sleep.
Morning light filtered through the curtains, turning the room gold. By then, Yui had managed to wash her face, braid her hair, and hide the exhaustion behind a faint smile.
Masaru had already left early, a note on the table: "Don't skip breakfast. And no walking alone after school. I'll pick you up."
She smiled softly at the messy handwriting before stepping out.
The park outside her apartment was unusually bright for a weekday. Children's laughter carried through the breeze.
Then, she saw her.
Mei — sitting on the swing, her short hair bouncing with every sway. The girl's laughter sparkled like sunlight.
When Mei noticed Yui walking by, she whispered something to her friends and hopped off the swing. The small sneakers thudded lightly against the sand as she ran up, stopping just before Yui.
"Yui-neesan!" she said cheerfully.
Yui blinked, surprised. "Mei-chan? You're up early."
Mei nodded, cheeks puffed with pride. "I have a holiday today." Then, in a strangely solemn gesture, she tugged on Yui's skirt, urging her to bend down.
Curious, Yui crouched to her level. "What is it?" she asked softly.
Without warning, Mei wrapped her small arms around Yui's neck. The hug was warm, unexpected — so pure that for a second, Yui forgot how heavy her chest had felt all morning.
Yui chuckled quietly, hugging her back. "You know, I think my day's already better."
When they parted, Mei's bright eyes looked up at her. "An angel told me to hug you," she said, completely serious.
Yui blinked. "An angel?"
Mei nodded again. "He said if I do it, he'll bring me presents tonight!"
Yui's heart softened. She gently pinched Mei's cheek. "You've been reading too many stories lately. But all right, I'll read you one about angels today, okay?"
Mei giggled, rubbing her face where Yui had pinched her. "Okay!"
She turned to leave, skipping back to her friends. But just before she joined them, Mei looked over her shoulder and made an "okay" sign with her thumb and forefinger — not toward Yui, but toward something behind her.
Instinctively, Yui followed the gesture.
The space behind her was empty. The pathway stretched out, lined with trees and the faint sound of wind rustling through their leaves.
No one was there.
Yui frowned, glancing back at Mei, but the little girl was already lost in her laughter again.
She shook her head lightly. "Just imagination," she muttered to herself and continued walking toward the main building.
But as she crossed the gate, she couldn't shake the chill that crawled up her neck — that feeling of being seen.
The day passed with deceptive normalcy — math, literature, the hum of lunchtime chatter. But tension lingered beneath her skin, like static before a storm.
By afternoon, the whole class was buzzing — the dance competition was nearing, and today was costume-fitting day. The teachers gathered them near the bus.
Yui was one of the last to arrive; she had stopped by the washroom. When she reached the bus, most of the seats were already taken.
She stepped forward.
The bus jolted slightly as it began to move, and in that instant, Yui lost her balance — falling sideways, landing squarely onto Haruto's lap.
Her breath caught. His hand instinctively went to her waist, steadying her. For a split second, the world stilled — her face inches from his, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the cool air from the window.
Haruto's eyes met hers, amused yet darkly unreadable. "You really like falling into my arms, don't you?" he murmured, low enough that only she could hear.
Yui's face flushed; she jerked upright — but before she could stand, a hand gripped her wrist.
"Come here." Riku's voice came from the seat ahead. Without a glance at Haruto, he tugged Yui beside him.
The air seemed to crackle between the two boys.
Haruto leaned back, a smirk curling on his lips. "Protective, aren't you?"
Riku didn't respond, his jaw tight. Yui stared out the window, her heart hammering, wishing the bus would go faster.
Behind them, students whispering— the kind of whisper meant to be heard. "They're fighting again because of her."
Haruto heard it. His grin deepened, but his eyes flicked to the reflection of Yui's face in the glass — pale, strained, trying to pretend none of this mattered.