The fifth period passed without incident.
Well, almost.
I spent most of the lesson staring at the blackboard, pretending to understand the complicated equations our mathematics teacher had written across it.
Unfortunately, my attention kept wandering toward the girl sitting two seats to my left.
Shiori.
The transfer student.
She had arrived in our class only recently, but somehow, she'd already become a familiar presence in our daily lives.
She was friendly without being overly familiar, quiet without being awkward, and had a peculiar habit of smiling whenever someone said something particularly stupid.
Which, considering our class, happened quite frequently.
At the moment, she was carefully copying the equations from the blackboard into her notebook.
Her handwriting was neat.
Almost annoyingly neat.
Meanwhile, my notebook contained three incomplete equations, a doodle of a jellyfish, and a small drawing of Kiyoyama being eaten by an octopus.
I glanced down at it.
"...I should probably pay attention."
"Kousaki-kun."
I nearly jumped out of my seat.
Our mathematics teacher was standing beside my desk.
"Would you care to explain the next step?"
"...I'd be delighted to, Sensei."
"Wonderful. Please come to the blackboard."
"..."
I stood up.
Somewhere behind me, I heard Kiyoyama quietly chuckling.
I made a mental note to delete his favorite anime from my recommendations.
After a rather embarrassing attempt at solving the equation, I returned to my seat with my dignity in critical condition.
As I sat down, a small piece of paper landed on my desk.
I looked to my left.
Shiori was still facing the blackboard.
She didn't even turn her head.
Curious, I unfolded the paper.
The answer is 12.
Below it was a small smiley face.
I stared at it.
Then I looked at the blackboard.
Then back at the paper.
"..."
I had apparently spent the entire time trying to solve the wrong equation.
This is what happens when you draw an octopus during mathematics.
I quietly wrote Thanks on the paper and slid it back to her.
A few seconds later, it returned.
You owe me one.
I raised an eyebrow.
I wrote back.
For saving my academic career?
She glanced at me briefly.
Then she wrote something else.
For saving your life. Sensei looked ready to bury you beneath the school.
I almost laughed.
Almost.
Unfortunately, our teacher happened to turn around at that exact moment.
"Something funny, Kousaki-kun?"
"...No, Sensei."
"Then perhaps you would like to solve the next question as well?"
"..."
I was beginning to think Shiori was more dangerous than she looked.
The final bell rang at three thirty.
And just like that, the classroom transformed into a marketplace.
Chairs scraped against the floor. Students hurried to pack their belongings. Someone near the window was loudly arguing about a mobile game, while Kiyoyama had somehow convinced three people to listen to his explanation of why his favorite anime deserved a second season.
I was trying to leave before he noticed me.
Unfortunately...
"Yuuma!"
I stopped.
Slowly, I turned around.
Kiyoyama stood beside his desk, pointing at me with the enthusiasm of a prosecutor who had finally found his missing witness.
"Where are you going?"
"Cram School."
"Already?"
"Yes."
"But I haven't finished explaining the plot."
"Then finish explaining it to someone who cares."
"That's the problem! Nobody understands the genius of the original author!"
"Have you considered that the problem might be the anime itself?"
He gasped.
I walked away before he could recover.
At the classroom door, I noticed Shiori standing beside the shoe lockers, looking down at her phone.
She had already changed into her outdoor shoes.
Her schoolbag hung from one shoulder, and the afternoon sunlight illuminated the edges of her hair.
For some reason, I slowed down.
It wasn't as though I had any particular reason to approach her.
We weren't especially close.
We talked during class sometimes, exchanged a few jokes, and occasionally ended up in the same group during school activities.
That was about it.
Still...
"Hey, Shiori."
She looked up.
"Oh. Yuuma-kun."
She smiled.
"Going home?"
"No, I'm planning to spend the night inside my locker."
"...I see."
"Really? That's your response?"
"Sorry. I didn't prepare a suitable reply for that situation."
She laughed.
It was a small laugh, light and unrestrained.
I found myself smiling too.
"Anyway," I continued, "are you heading to the station?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Nothing. I'm going that way too."
"Then let's go together."
She said it so naturally that I almost forgot to answer.
"Sure."
And just like that, I found myself walking beside Shiori.
The streets around our school were particularly lively in the afternoon.
Students in different uniforms filled the sidewalks, bicycles passed occasionally, and the smell of freshly baked bread drifted from a small bakery near the intersection.
Shiori walked beside me, occasionally looking around as if she were still getting used to the neighborhood.
"Have you gotten used to the school yet?" I asked.
"Mostly."
"Mostly?"
"I still get lost sometimes."
"How do you get lost in a school you've been attending for weeks?"
She looked at me.
"Have you seen the third-floor corridor?"
"...What about it?"
"There's a staircase at the end that leads to another corridor, which looks almost identical to the first one."
"Ah."
"And yesterday, I somehow ended up in the teachers' office while looking for the art room."
"..."
I tried to imagine it.
For some reason, the image of Shiori standing in the teachers' office, completely bewildered, was strangely amusing.
"Don't laugh."
"I'm not laughing."
"Your face says otherwise."
"I'm simply appreciating the architectural genius of our school."
"You're terrible."
"I've been told that before."
She sighed, but the corners of her mouth were raised.
After a few moments, she looked toward the shops across the street.
"Your school is nice, though."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Everyone's pretty friendly."
"Even Kiyoyama and Amane?"
She paused.
"...They are interesting people."
"That's a diplomatic way of saying you find him exhausting."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
She laughed again.
"Kanon and Miyu also have been a great help for me."
"Kanon and Miyu...? It doesn't sound right." I laughed.
She smiled.
I was beginning to notice something.
Shiori smiled quite often.
But her smiles weren't all the same.
Sometimes, they were polite smiles, the kind people offered when they didn't know what else to say.
Sometimes, they were teasing smiles, usually accompanied by a remark that made me regret opening my mouth.
And sometimes...
Sometimes, she smiled so genuinely that I couldn't help but look at her a little longer.
Like now.
"...What?"
I blinked.
"Hm?"
"You're staring at me."
"I am?"
"Yes."
"Sorry. I was thinking about something."
"Something interesting?"
"Not particularly."
She narrowed her eyes.
"You're a terrible liar, Yuuma-kun."
"So I've heard."
"You should work on that."
"I'll add it to my list of personal shortcomings."
"How long is that list?"
"Long enough that I need a separate notebook."
She laughed.
And somehow, the walk to the station became a little more enjoyable than I had expected.
We stopped at a small convenience store near the station.
Shiori wanted to buy a drink, and I had forgotten to bring enough money for the vending machine near the school.
Or, more accurately, I had spent the last of my coins on a limited-edition jellyfish keychain the previous evening.
I wasn't proud of it.
But I wasn't ashamed, either.
Some purchases simply required sacrifice.
I stood in front of the refrigerated drinks while Shiori examined the shelves.
"What are you getting?" I asked.
"Maybe peach tea."
"That's your favorite?"
"One of them."
"What are the others?"
She looked at me suspiciously.
"Why?"
"I'm conducting a very important investigation."
"Into what?"
"Your personality."
"...You can determine someone's personality from their favorite drinks?"
"Of course. People who drink black coffee are probably pretending to be adults. People who drink energy drinks have made questionable life decisions. And people who drink milk tea are generally trustworthy."
"That's a very scientific conclusion."
"I graduated at the top of my class at the University of Completely Made-Up Facts."
"Congratulations."
"Thank you."
She picked up a bottle of peach tea.
Then she paused.
Her gaze drifted toward the drinks on the lower shelf.
"Hm?"
I followed her eyes.
She was looking at a particular brand of grape soda.
"Do you like that one?" I asked.
Shiori stared at the bottle for a moment.
"...I'm not sure."
"How can you not be sure?"
"It's strange."
"What is?"
She tilted her head.
"I feel like I've drunk it before."
"Well, it's a pretty common drink."
"Maybe."
She picked up the bottle and examined the label.
For some reason, her expression had become a little distant.
Not sad.
Not confused, exactly.
Just...
As though she were trying to remember something that had slipped beyond her reach.
Then she shook her head.
"Never mind. I'll just get this."
She put the grape soda back and took the peach tea instead.
I watched her for another second before choosing a bottle of water.
We paid and stepped outside.
The afternoon breeze carried the distant sound of a train arriving at the platform.
Shiori opened her drink.
"Yuuma-kun."
"Hm?"
"Have you ever had a dream that felt strangely familiar?"
I nearly dropped my water bottle.
"...A dream?"
"Yeah."
She took a sip of her peach tea.
"Not a nightmare or anything. Just a dream that feels like a memory, even though you're pretty sure it never happened."
I stared at her.
For a moment, the noise of the street seemed to fade into the background.
That question...
Why did it sound so familiar?
I rubbed the back of my neck.
"Actually, yeah. Sometimes."
"Really?"
"Everyone has those, don't they?"
"Probably."
She looked toward the sky.
"I had one last night."
I twisted the cap off my bottle.
"Oh?"
"It was strange. I don't remember everything, but I remember the feeling."
"The feeling?"
"Mm."
She closed her eyes briefly, as if trying to picture it.
"There was someone in it."
I stopped drinking.
"Someone?"
"Yeah. I couldn't see their face clearly."
A strange sensation crept into my chest.
I didn't know why.
I didn't know what I was expecting her to say.
But somehow, I wanted her to continue.
"They were standing somewhere near the sakura blossom," she said. "I think it was evening. The sky was really pretty, and there was this sound..."
She paused.
"The sound of a chime, maybe?"
A chime.
The cherry blossom.
An evening sky.
My fingers tightened around the plastic bottle.
For some reason, a scene flashed through my mind.
A wide expanse of cherry blossom petals.
A silhouette standing beneath a sky painted in pink and blue.
And someone calling out...
Wait for me.
I blinked.
The image vanished.
"...Yuuma-kun?"
I looked at Shiori.
She was watching me with concern.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah."
I swallowed.
"Sorry. I just remembered something."
"Something similar?"
"I don't know."
I looked away.
"It might be nothing."
Shiori was quiet for a moment.
Then she smiled faintly.
"That's what I thought too."
She adjusted the strap of her schoolbag.
"It's probably just a dream."
"Yeah."
I forced a small laugh.
"Dreams are weird."
"Very."
She took another sip of her tea.
And just like that, the conversation moved on.
But the image remained in my mind.
A sea beneath an evening sky.
A silhouette.
And a voice I couldn't quite remember.
We reached entrance of the station a few minutes later.
The crowd was thicker than usual, with adults gathering near the ticket gates.
Shiori stopped beside the entrance.
"Well, this is where we part ways."
"Looks like it."
She bowed her head slightly.
"Thanks for walking with me, Yuuma-kun."
"No problem. It was on my way, anyway."
"Still."
She smiled.
"It was nice."
I didn't know why those three words made me feel strangely pleased.
Maybe because they were simple.
Maybe because she sounded like she meant them.
Or maybe because, for some reason, I didn't want our conversation to end just yet.
"Hey, Shiori."
She turned back.
"Yeah?"
I hesitated.
Then, for reasons I couldn't explain, I asked the first thing that came to mind.
"Do you usually remember your dreams?"
She blinked.
"Not really. Why?"
"Just curious."
"Hm..."
She looked up thoughtfully.
"I usually forget them as soon as I wake up. Sometimes, I remember a few details, but they disappear pretty quickly."
"Even the important ones?"
She considered the question.
"I don't think dreams have to be important to feel important."
I stared at her.
"...What does that mean?"
She laughed softly.
"I don't know. It just sounded nice."
"You're unbelievable."
"I've been told that before."
She repeated my words with a mischievous smile.
Then she stepped backward toward the ticket gates.
"See you tomorrow, Yuuma-kun."
"Yeah. See you."
She waved once before disappearing into the crowd.
I stood there for a moment, watching the place where she had been.
Then I sighed.
"...I really need to stop talking to people who steal my lines."
I turned toward my own platform.
But as I walked, my thoughts returned to that dream.
The cherry blossom.
The evening sky.
The silhouette.
And the strange feeling that someone had been waiting for me.
Someone I had known.
Someone I had promised something to.
I stopped walking.
"...What am I even thinking?"
I shook my head.
It was just a dream.
Nothing more.
And dreams were supposed to be forgotten.
Weren't they?
That night, I dreamed of the sea.
The sky was beautiful.
It stretched endlessly above the horizon, painted in shades of orange, pink, and deep violet.
The waves rolled gently toward the shore, their white foam dissolving across the sand.
I was standing barefoot near the water.
For some reason, I knew I had been there before.
Not in real life.
Not in a place I could remember visiting.
But somewhere else.
Somewhere that existed only in the strange, unreachable corners of my mind.
I looked down.
The water reflected the colors of the sky.
A cool breeze brushed against my face.
Then I heard footsteps behind me.
I turned.
Someone was standing a short distance away.
A girl.
I couldn't see her face.
Her features were blurred, as though someone had taken a photograph and deliberately erased the most important part.
But I knew she was looking at me.
And somehow, I knew she was smiling.
"You're late."
Her voice was gentle.
Familiar.
So familiar that my chest ached.
"Sorry," I replied.
I didn't know why I apologized.
I didn't know who she was.
But the words came naturally.
The girl tilted her head.
"You always say that."
"...Do I?"
"Mm-hm."
She took a step closer.
The wind stirred her hair, but I couldn't distinguish its color.
I wanted to see her face.
For some reason, that felt more important than anything else.
"Hey," I said.
"What?"
"Who are you?"
The girl fell silent.
The waves washed over the sand.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she smiled again.
"That's a secret."
"...That's not fair."
"You'll remember eventually."
"Remember what?"
She turned toward the cherry blossom petals.
"Everything."
I took a step toward her.
"Wait."
She looked back.
I reached out my hand.
"Don't go."
The girl stared at me.
And for the briefest moment, I felt something break inside my chest.
A feeling of loss.
Of loneliness.
Of something precious slipping away.
Something I couldn't name.
Then she reached out her own hand.
Her fingertips brushed mine.
"Yuuma."
I froze.
She knew my name.
Of course she knew my name.
But why did hearing it from her make me want to cry?
"Yuuma..."
Her voice grew softer.
And the world around us began to fade.
The trees.
The sky.
The warmth of her hand.
Everything disappeared into a pale, endless light.
I tried to hold on.
But I couldn't.
I woke up before my alarm rang.
For several seconds, I lay motionless beneath my blanket, staring at the ceiling.
My heart was beating faster than usual.
"...What was that?"
I sat up and rubbed my eyes.
The dream was already slipping away.
I remembered the sea.
The sunset.
A girl whose face I couldn't see.
And a voice that had called my name.
Everything else was disappearing.
I tried to recall her face.
Nothing.
Her hair?
Nothing.
Her clothes?
Nothing.
It was like trying to hold water between my fingers.
The harder I tried, the faster it vanished.
Eventually, I gave up and fell backward onto my pillow.
"...Just a dream."
I repeated the words quietly.
Then I reached for my phone.
The screen lit up with a new notification.
Kanon...
Good morning, Yuuma!
Are you awake now?
I stared at the message.
Once.
Twice.
Then a third time.
"...Does she want to go with me?"
I sat up so quickly that my blanket fell to the floor.
There was no way.
No way she could have...
My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
I typed a reply.
Yeah. Actually, I have. Do you want to go together?
Her reply came less than a minute later.
Chapter: A Morning That Felt Different
Yuuma's POV
I stared at my phone.
On my way!
"...Huh?"
I read the message again.
Then I looked at the clock.
Then back at my phone.
"...She's actually coming?"
I wasn't sure why I sounded so surprised.
Kanon and I had been walking to school together for years. It wasn't unusual for us to meet up in the morning.
In fact, it was probably more unusual when we didn't.
Still, something about this morning felt different.
Maybe it was the dream.
Maybe it was the strange conversation I'd had with Shiori yesterday.
Or maybe...
I was simply overthinking things again.
"...Whatever."
I tossed my phone onto the bed and hurried to get ready.
There was no point in thinking about mysterious dreams before breakfast.
I had more important things to worry about.
Like whether I had finished my homework.
...
I hadn't.
"You're late."
Those were the first words Kanon said when I stepped outside.
She stood near the entrance to my house, holding her schoolbag with both hands.
Her expression was perfectly composed.
Too composed, actually.
"...Good morning to you too."
"It's already eight minutes past the time we agreed on."
"You said you were on your way. You didn't specify that you were standing right outside my house."
"Because I was on my way."
"That's not how time works."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Do you want me to leave you behind?"
"No, thank you."
"Then hurry up."
I locked the front door and fell into step beside her.
For a while, we walked in silence.
It wasn't an uncomfortable silence.
Kanon and I had known each other for so long that we could spend an entire afternoon together without saying anything particularly meaningful.
We had our own rhythm.
Our own habits.
Our own little world.
At least, that was what I had always thought.
But lately...
I had started noticing things I probably should have noticed years ago.
The way she occasionally glanced at me when she thought I wasn't looking.
The way she remembered the smallest details about my preferences.
The way she sometimes opened her mouth to say something, only to change her mind at the last second.
And the way my own heart reacted whenever I caught her doing any of those things.
"...Yuuma?"
"Hm?"
"You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"That face."
"What face?"
"The one where you look like you're trying to solve a problem that doesn't exist."
"...That's just my normal face."
"Then you should consider getting a new one."
"That's a little harsh."
She laughed.
I smiled faintly.
For some reason, the sound reminded me of something.
A laugh beneath a sky filled with cherry blossoms.
A voice calling my name.
A hand reaching toward mine.
I stopped walking.
"...Yuuma?"
I blinked.
Kanon was looking at me.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"You stopped walking."
"I was thinking."
"About what?"
I hesitated.
Then I shook my head.
"Nothing important."
Kanon watched me for another moment before sighing.
"You're really bad at hiding things."
"So I've heard."
She gave me a small smile.
"Well, whatever it is, you can tell me later."
"...Later?"
"Yeah."
She looked ahead.
"We've known each other long enough that I think I deserve at least one explanation when you start acting strange."
I stared at her.
Then I laughed.
"That's a pretty unreasonable demand."
"Then consider it a childhood friend's privilege."
"...I suppose I can't argue with that."
"Of course you can't."
She smiled triumphantly.
And we continued walking.
But as we approached the school gates, I found myself thinking about her words.
We've known each other long enough.
That was true.
Kanon had been part of my life for as long as I could remember.
She knew my habits, my weaknesses, and probably more embarrassing stories about me than anyone else alive.
But there were still things I couldn't explain to her.
Things I didn't understand myself.
Like the dream.
Or the strange feeling that I had been waiting for someone.
Someone whose face I couldn't remember.
And somehow...
I had a feeling that the answer wasn't going to come from looking backward.
It was going to come from the people standing beside me now.