As I walked up the stairs leading to the main entrance of the school, the strange sensation hit me again—the same one I had felt on the bus earlier. As if someone, or something, was quietly watching me.
For a few seconds, I just stood there on the staircase, looking around, trying to anchor myself in the present, even as my mind lingered on a past I thought I had long forgotten.
Birds called from the trees nearby as though they were marking the end of a storm. My fingers brushed the wet handrail, tracing the curve of the metal almost without thinking, drawn by a strange, nostalgic pull.
Step by step, I made my way up, occasionally stepping into small puddles. By the time I reached the top, everything felt strangely familiar—the birds announcing themselves in the trees, the lingering cold wet air, the calm that wrapped the place in an almost soothing quiet. A beauty I was certain I had seen before.
I looked up at the school, at the window of my classroom. I was late. So late that I had already missed the entire morning class, arriving only during my break. So, I took my time, letting myself absorb it all.
I did this whenever I could during breaks. No one was outside at this hour, the students were tucked away in their classrooms, and as such I took the opportunity to wander or simply watch. Sometimes I walked down to the entrance, where I was now; other times, I merely admired the scene from my window.
A group of robins called from one of the trees, their song is specific to this time of year, so I recognized them immediately. I watched them hop from branch to branch, and somehow I just knew where the next bird would go. One flew to the crown of the tree, disappearing from my view, and almost instinctively my head, seemingly drawn by their song, tilted towards two other birds sitting on a branch to the right. Then the same one I had lost from my sight earlier darted between them, fencing off the other male with a brief display of his own song.
I wasn't surprised. Somehow, I had known it would happen. Strange, but not out of the ordinary. The scene simply came to my mind before it actually happened.
I murmured to myself, almost without thinking, "So… that's déjà vu, huh?"
The school bell rang, pulling me back into my duties and back into the classroom, as I made my way towards it.
I walked down the hallway, moving against the flow of children between classes. Yet somehow this strange, persistent feeling of familiarity didn't fade. It followed me, as though it was clinging itself onto my shadow. Then as I continued to fight my way against the current of children in the hallway, two strange things were about to take place, that would make me feel discomfort:
First, for some reason unbeknownst to me, the teachers started greeting me. That alone had caught me off guard. They had never greeted me before. More often than not, whenever our eyes met, they'd rather glance away than to meet my gaze. It never occurred to me why they look away, but I figured it must have been either in disgust or shame. This was never an issue to me, since I was never able to look at strangers anyway. But now they were meeting my eyes, when I looked around in observation, so I stared at the floor and kept moving.
Second, most of them looked like they couldn't believe quite grasp what was in front of them. Or who.
Not only did they meet my stare, but they did so in pure awe, with their mouths hanging agape from their jaw, their eyes staring in disbelief, with tiny pupils, as if they are looking at something that is out of their understanding of reality. And as such, the second reason for my discomfort.
Why would they be looking at me so differently? I didn't do anything to upset them, did I?
Is it because I am too late?
Before my mind could spiral into endless agonizing thoughts, I came to a halt. Not consciously, but rather instinctively.
I had reached the staircase, right before the turn into the stairwell leading up to the third floor, when the feeling that had been following me all morning suddenly sharpened. Like something was telling me to stop. Right now.
Luckily I did. I nearly ran into the director, who appeared right before the turn into the stairwell. And of course, she was not exempt from the weird phenomenon around the hallway, that seemed to have taken everyone, her included. She froze in front of me, staring as if she didn't quite understand what she was seeing. The same eyes and all the same disbelief.
Confusion was written all over her face, she tried to formulate a sentence, but all that she could say where noises, stuck in her throat. Before she could actually muster to say anything, I muttered, "I have a class to go to," and slipped past her, effectively ignoring her.
The whole day felt off. Not only the staring. Everything carried a kind of weight I couldn't quite allocate. It started with me waking up, to the bus ride and the birds and up to the way people looked at me. The way things happened—it all felt familiar, like I had already gone through it once before without realizing. Not memories. Nor something I have dreamt before. Something else.
Get to class. Finish it and go home. Just get through the day, tomorrow is a new one, that is the only thing that mattered for now.
I fixed my thoughts on one thing to steel my resolve going into that classroom: Home.
And then, almost instantly, when going to my lousy apartment became an option, it hit me. A flash of Junya, talking to me at his mansion, and me stomping out right after. I didn't remember doing it, but somehow I knew it was true. That I had done it.
A brief, sharp throb pulsed behind my eyes. My grip tightened on the railing as the image eased out of my mind, leaving only a dull, lingering ache. I shook it off and kept walking. The day was strange enough already, and it wasn't the first headache I'd had.
"Class first. There should be some headache meds anyway", I thought.
The last kids moved between classrooms, some were laughing, some arguing about meaningless stuff, such as their favorite social media channel. I kept my gaze low, letting their chaos slide past me like it didn't concern me.
Step by step, I made my way to the classroom door. My hand hold the handle for a short moment. The metal was cold and smooth, as heavy as I remember it to be. Taking a deep breath in, I slid the door open, letting it creak slightly on its hinges.
And then I noticed it.
For a brief moment, something sat at the piano at the back of the room. A dark shape, almost like a shadow, still and out of place, with it edges blurry. It wasn't clear, nor was it something I could properly make out. It was just there, and somehow, I knew it was watching me.
But then I realized it—why is there a piano in the first place? I didn't remember it being there yesterday.
And yet… it didn't feel out of place. If anything, it felt expected. Like I had known it would be there today, in that exact spot.
By the time I focused on it, the shadow was gone.
I stood there for a moment longer than I should have, staring at the empty space, barely aware of just a few students glancing in my direction while the rest were busy among themselves.
As I closed the door behind me, a soft click settled into the room, and just like that, their attention shifted to me.
My stomach sank.
The worst thing was just about to unfold.