"I'll try my best to sound more energetic for you."
"Hmph... there's no need for that." Hearing his voice return to its usual tone, Kasumigaoka Utaha gradually stopped worrying.
"So, why did you call?"
"I just wanted to check on the progress of your new work."
Under the pen name Kasumi Utako, she had released her first light novel, Love Metronome, through Fujimi Bunko's Fantastic imprint. The reception had been unexpectedly positive. For a high school girl who ranked first in her year, she was a true genius in every sense of the word.
Shiro, incidentally, had chosen the same publisher for his own debut.
"Ah, so you've got writer's block?" Shiro teased. Even for veterans, hitting a wall was common. It was especially ironic since she was writing a romance novel despite having zero actual dating experience.
It was probably just a form of longing...
"..." Silence on the other end. "No, the general direction is set. I just have a few lingering doubts about the final chapter."
"So, is it going to be Sayuka—the emotional anchor who's been there since Volume 1—or Mai, who showed up halfway through Volume 2 but became the most popular character with the readers?"
"Sayuka, of course. Didn't you say that if she's the main heroine, she should win in the end?"
"Mhm... It is hard to justify the 'Childhood Friend' losing to the 'Transfer Student.' Having all that history and shared time lose to a sudden spark of 'love at first sight' is always painful."
But that was just an outsider's perspective. In reality, being too familiar often made it harder to make a move. Usually, when someone finally acts, it's out of a sudden, impulsive burst of desire.
"So, isn't this the ending you were looking for? Once I finish the draft... I want you to be the first to read it."
"Sure. My own work is basically done. If all goes well, the final volume will be published next month." Shiro said this with a hint of pride.
"Then congratulations are in order. For a mere Shiro-kun, you've done quite well." She put a heavy, playful emphasis on the word mere. "Chisato is truly a charming character. If I had a sister like her, I'd probably fall in love with her too."
"Thanks again for your help with the research. It was a huge lifesaver."
"Don't mention it. Just mutual aid. However, I've been lacking inspiration lately. I don't suppose Shiro-kun is free this weekend?" Though it was phrased as a question, it carried the weight of a command he wasn't allowed to refuse.
"..."
"Well? Your answer?" she pressed.
"I don't have plans this weekend. I don't mind helping you find some inspiration." He really didn't have anything else to do. His social circle was tiny, after all.
"Hmph. Then it's a date—I mean, it's settled." There was a note of triumphant pleasure in her voice.
"Yeah." It seemed she was done with her business.
"Hey, Kasumigaoka..." Shiro started.
"What is it?"
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
"...Are you suffering from some kind of serious illness? You're a bit old for Chunibyo, Shiro-kun. A man shouldn't spend his whole life living in a fantasy." Utaha assumed he was joking and immediately activated her "Passive Snark" skill.
"Remember I told you I ran into some trouble today?" Shiro's tone was dead serious.
"What happened?" Utaha's voice wavered, unsure of his intent.
"I saw a woman whose head was practically falling off stand up and walk away."
"A prank?" That was the rational response. The possibility of a cosplay or a hidden-camera prank show was much higher than an actual ghost encounter in modern Japan.
"No. It was a car accident scene," Shiro countered.
"..." Utaha was even more confused. Was he telling her a ghost story? "You must have misseen it. An illusion, or a trick of the light."
"I didn't missee it." Shiro trusted his eyes. The blood, the skid marks, the wreckage, and the driver's frantic call for an ambulance—it was all real.
"And then what happened?"
"...I left."
"..."
"Kasumigaoka?"
"I wasn't there, so I can't say. But it was likely just a trick of your mind, Shiro-kun." She still refused to believe in the supernatural.
"Don't you think... maybe our world isn't as ordinary as it seems?" Shiro dropped a hint.
Utaha twirled a lock of hair around her finger and scoffed. "Isn't that exactly what a Chunibyo would say?"
Shiro didn't know how to explain it further. The silence stretched between them.
"I'm not joking... if anything happens... if anything strange happens on your end..." Shiro hesitated. They were just friends; he didn't want to burden her. "Just call me. If I'm able, I'll come to you."
If it hadn't been for this phone call, Shiro might not have said anything at all. He hadn't even told Hachiman.
"...Shiro-kun?"
"Keep an eye on the news. Maybe it really was just my imagination," he added.
"The news...?"
"If you can, try not to go to school for the next couple of days. Take a sick day. I want to see if anything else happens."
Utaha was a celebrity at her school. Asking her to skip was a tall order. "Keep your doors and windows locked. Stay safe."
"I know that much. It's basic common sense for a girl living alone," she replied. "I understand."
Is he trying to tell me a ghost story? she wondered. She halfway expected him to laugh and say, "Gotcha!"
After hanging up, Utaha felt troubled. Deeply troubled. She knew Shiro was a reliable guy, which is why his words carried so much weight. In stories, when the protagonist gives a serious warning to stay safe before leaving... that's usually a Flag.
"Tomorrow..." Tomorrow was Tuesday. She was a top student at Toyogasaki; should she really skip? Usually, even when she stayed up all night writing, she still went to school just to nap in class.
"Shiro-kun..."
Utaha curled her legs up on her chair, her heels resting against the edge. She sat there, hugging her knees in silence for a long time.
Suddenly, she snapped her head up and looked at the clock. 7:20 PM.
When did she start talking to Shiro? Six? Seven? She shook her head and stood up.
A woman with a broken neck...
The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She looked around her dark room. She let out a self-deprecating scoff—to think she was actually scaring herself.
Hmph. Next time, I'll take him to see a horror movie for 'research'.
Despite Shiro's warning, she didn't actually plan on skipping school. But as she moved through her apartment, she checked every single room. She made sure the locks were secure and pulled the curtains shut tight.
She felt like she was overreacting, but she also felt a sudden burst of inspiration. The fear had sparked something for her novel. She sat back down at her desk and began to write, her leg beginning to bounce rhythmically again.
The message had been delivered.
Shiro stared at his blackened phone screen. He wasn't the type to bother people with uncertainties, but the thought of "what if" nagged at him. If something happened and he hadn't said anything, he would never forgive himself.
"Self-satisfaction," he muttered.
No one would believe such a thing until they saw it with their own eyes, no matter how many movies or games they'd seen. Even if Utaha went to school tomorrow, he wouldn't blame her. He would have done the same in his first life. He was a "normal" person once, too.
He slid his thumb across the screen, not to unlock it, but just out of habit. He decided against calling Hachiman.
It was 7:20 PM. Time to cook.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
Shiro bolted upright and slammed the off button on his alarm before it reached the loudest part of its cycle. He collapsed back onto his pillow for a moment. Five minutes later, he forced himself to sit up.
Unless he was truly exhausted, the underlying anxiety of being late always prevented him from falling back into a deep sleep. He tossed back the duvet and started rummaging through his wardrobe for a clean uniform.
He had washed all his clothes the night before, hoping to scrub away any lingering "bad luck" from the accident.
Because he insisted on those extra five minutes of sleep, he never had time for a proper breakfast. He had heard that the "breakfast is the most important meal" claim was just a marketing strategy from 1970s cereal companies—a modern urban legend, like the idea that phones cause radiation.
He planned to just grab a Nikuman (meat bun) at the convenience store on his way to school. If he had time on the weekends, he'd make them himself and freeze them, but lately, he hadn't been in the mood.
After washing up, he saw he still had plenty of time. He threw on his Sobu High uniform, stepped into his shoes, and said, "I'm heading out" to the empty room. It was a habit of seventeen years, even if there was never a reply.
The same morning. The same sky. The same town. The same peace.
Eating his somewhat bland but acceptable convenience store meat bun, he boarded the train. His apartment was four stops away from school. It wasn't as cost-effective as a bicycle, but he didn't need to pinch pennies.
"Good morning, Sensei," students called out to the teachers at the gate. Shiro ignored the teachers he didn't know and slipped inside.
The layout of Sobu High was like a hollow square—if you looked down from above, it looked like the Kanji for "mouth" (口). The main building and the lab building were connected by hallways on the second, third, and fourth floors. The space enclosed by these buildings was the Sanctuary of Normies—the courtyard.
During lunch, the popular kids would gather there to eat, play badminton, and bask in the "youthful" atmosphere. After school, they'd confess their love against the backdrop of the setting sun.
Sobu High was near the sea, specifically the Mihama ward of Chiba, bordering Tokyo Bay. Shiro always had his doubts about the water quality of the bay; he wondered if the sea breeze carried some strange "attributes" with it.
He changed into his indoor shoes at the entrance, headed to Class E, and sat down to read the manga he'd bought yesterday. Ignoring whatever the homeroom teacher was droning on about, the first period began.
Biology. The teacher started by assigning a short essay about animals... which immediately sparked Shiro's creative urge.
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