The mist lay thick over Mizukiri that morning, a soft gray shroud that refused to surrender to the rising sun. It clung to the narrow streets, dampened the roofs of old wooden houses, and turned the world into something hushed and half-forgotten.
Kaiya woke with a violent start, his heart slamming against his ribs like a trapped bird. For one terrifying heartbeat, the nightmare still had him in its jaws—golden sunlight warming his face, his father's strong arms wrapped around him, the bright sound of laughter ringing in the air. Then came the screech of tires. The brutal crunch of metal folding in on itself. And his own small, broken voice tearing through the chaos.
"Dad—!"
He gasped, pressing a trembling hand to the raised scar that carved across his left cheek. The skin there was rough, familiar, a permanent reminder that some dreams never truly ended.
*Not again…*
Kaiya sat on the edge of his bed, eyes closed, forcing his breathing to slow. The room was dark and quiet, the same four walls that had sheltered him for years. Safe. Real. He repeated the words silently until the phantom scent of burning rubber faded from his nose.
From downstairs, his mother's voice drifted up like a lifeline thrown into dark water.
"Kaiya! You're going to be late for school!"
He exhaled shakily, ran a hand through his damp hair, and stood.
---
After a hurried shower, he stood before his wardrobe in the dim light, buttoning the white shirt of his Mizukiri High uniform with mechanical fingers. His gaze wandered across the small relics of his life scattered around the room: the half-disassembled chemistry set on his desk, towers of dog-eared novels, and the old family photograph resting on the shelf. In it, his father's smile was wide and unbreakable, frozen in a time before everything changed.
Kaiya looked away quickly and headed downstairs.
The warm aroma of miso soup and freshly brewed green tea welcomed him into the kitchen. His little sister Riko was already perched at the table, her legs swinging beneath her as she ate. She fixed him with that sharp, innocent stare only younger sisters seemed to possess.
"Morning," she said. "You look like you saw a ghost."
"Just a weird dream," Kaiya muttered, sliding into his seat.
"What kind of weird dream?"
He hesitated, then shook his head and forced a small smile. "Can't remember."
Their mother, Haruna, moved around the kitchen with her usual quiet grace, though the faint shadows beneath her eyes betrayed her exhaustion. She poured tea into his cup with a soft hum. "Eat quickly, or you'll miss the bus."
"I'm done!" Riko announced brightly, hopping down from her chair.
---
Outside, the morning air was cool and damp against Kaiya's skin. The neighborhood stirred gently—small shops with faded noren curtains, modest houses lined with early-blooming flowers, and in the distance, the plain concrete buildings of Mizukiri High waiting beneath a pale, mist-veiled sky.
His friends were already gathered near the school gate.
"Morning. Late as usual," Ren called out, grinning.
"You're here too, so what does that make you?" Kaiya shot back.
"Fashionably early, obviously."
Mio crossed her arms, unimpressed. "I've been waiting ten minutes. Neither of you has any excuse."
"Woke up late," Kaiya admitted.
"Like always," Ren laughed, slapping him hard on the back.
As they walked toward the entrance, a group of girls nearby whispered excitedly among themselves.
"Did you see Hikaru this morning? He's so—"
"I know, right—"
Ren rolled his eyes dramatically. "What's so special about that guy? I genuinely don't get it."
Mio's cheeks flushed a delicate pink. "There's plenty special about him. He won last year's regional athletics competition—over a hundred and ten schools competing."
"And?" Ren pressed.
"And he's cute," she finished, almost defiantly.
Both boys made identical disgusted faces.
"He's my type," Mio shrugged, still blushing. "I can't help it."
"He barely knows you exist," Kaiya said dryly. "Too busy chasing every other girl in school."
"Facts," Ren agreed. "I bet he's not even a virgin."
Mio raised an elegant eyebrow. "Oh? And you're proud that you are?"
Kaiya burst out laughing.
"Who says I am?!" Ren protested.
"We all know," Mio replied simply, and kept walking.
---
Their laughter died abruptly when someone collided sharply into Kaiya's shoulder.
"Watch where you're going," a sharp voice snapped.
Kaiya turned, scowling. "You bumped into me first."
"Technically, you hit each other," Ren muttered under his breath.
The girl didn't bother looking back. She simply continued walking, long black hair swaying like a dark curtain behind her—unhurried, unbothered, as though the entire encounter had already been erased from her mind.
Mio leaned closer. "That's the new transfer student from Tokyo. Yui Fujimoto."
Kaiya watched her disappear through the school doors. There was something about her… not exactly cold, but distant. As if she existed just slightly out of step with the rest of the world.
Inside the classroom, the usual low hum of chatter filled the air until their homeroom teacher, Mr. Kuroda, entered with his calm, measured smile.
"Good morning, class."
"Good morning, Sensei."
"We left off at osmosis and diffusion last time," he said, opening his notes. "Let's continue."
Kaiya stared out the window, only half listening. A strange unease had been coiled in his chest since he woke up—faint but persistent, like invisible pressure building behind his eyes.
Something feels… off today.
From the back of the room, Marata's voice suddenly cut through the lesson, loud enough for everyone to hear:
"What… your mum…?"
A split second of stunned silence.
Then the entire class exploded into laughter.
"Marata," Mr. Kuroda said quietly, without raising his voice. "Homeroom after class."
The laughter only grew louder.
The rest of the day passed in quiet fragments: the sharp smell of chemicals in the lab, Ren nearly knocking over a beaker while Mio hissed at him to pay attention, the final bell ringing like freedom. The three friends walked their bicycles out through the school gate into the softening afternoon light.
"You've seemed off all day," Mio said softly as they rode side by side. "Still having those dreams?"
"Yeah."
"Are you still seeing someone about them?"
"I stopped going a month ago. I don't think it's necessary anymore."
Mio didn't join their laughter this time. Her voice was serious. "If it gets worse, you have to talk to someone. Promise me, Kaiya."
He didn't answer. But he didn't refuse either.
They parted ways at the usual intersection with casual waves and shouted goodbyes. Then it was just Kaiya and the quiet road home, the mist long gone but the weight in his chest remaining.
---
When he stepped inside the house, an unusual stillness greeted him.
"I'm home."
Riko's voice floated from the living room. "Big bro. You smell. Go shower."
"Long day. Where's Mum?"
"She's a bit sick. She wants to be alone so we don't catch it. She left something for you in the fridge."
Kaiya grabbed the wrapped bento and headed upstairs. As he passed his mother's room, he noticed the door slightly ajar. Her breathing was soft and even in the dimness. He decided not to disturb her.
---
The next morning, the fragile peace shattered.
Kaiya was still half-asleep when his bedroom door flew open with a bang. Riko burst in, her small face pale, eyes wide with raw panic.
"Big bro— Mom—!"
Her voice cracked, the rest of the words hanging in the air like the morning mist—thick, heavy, and heavy with dread.
To be continued…