He was drawn in his thoughts until he got back to the dorm,
He skipped dinner
Ken: " is everything alright man?"
Taka: " why this tired?!"
Shoya: " i need to rest a bit, goodnight " like that he went to sleep…. Deep sleep like he was in coma,even tho his mind was busy but he slept afterall.
Ken and taka were worried about him, but they knew he was like that when something or someone important to him is bothering him.
By the next morning, Shoya had already made up his mind.
He couldn't keep this to himself anymore.
Whatever Naomi was hiding—whatever the greenhouse held—he was in over his head. The key in his pocket felt heavier than it should. Like it wasn't just unlocking a place.
It was unlocking something else.
So during lunch break, when Ken was cracking jokes about curry bread and Taka was distracted scrolling through motorcycle forums, Shoya dropped the photo on the table.
No words. Just the image.
Shoya: " any comment?"
Ken paused mid-bite. "So you finally decided to talk…!"
Taka squinted. "Is that… the greenhouse?"
Shoya nodded.
Ken: "Isn't that place off-limits? Since, like, last year?"
Shoya: "That's what I thought."
Taka leaned forward. "Wait, is that… Naomi?"
Ken let out a low whistle. "Taka is right this looks like her and the other one?"
Shoya stayed quiet for a moment. Then, calmly, he said:
"The unknown messenger sent me this the other day"
He added " well i have to tell you that since i met Naomi i began to receive different messages from an unknown person seems like they know Naomi and Kaori and try to tell me something but they send the message in codes and never answers my questions. Now that i got this message i think that person might be in our university "
For a few seconds, only the buzz of the cafeteria and metal trays clattering filled the air around them.
Ken's voice dropped. "You're serious."
Shoya nodded again. "I didn't want to believe it. I still don't. But this is happening and what's bothering me is why me? And why she is the only one with the access to the greenhouse?"
He pulled out the small, rusted silver key. Placed it beside the phone.
No one touched it.
Taka stared at it like it might burn him. "Where'd you find that?"
Shoya: "Under a pot. In the greenhouse."
Taka: " How…? This looks like a key to one of the lockers"
Shoya: " one evening i was wondering around the greenhouse, curious to know things, and i found the door was unlocked. Probably by chance..and yeah you are right i also think this is a key to a locker but it's rusted and looks old"
Ken looked around before leaning in. "Okay. So, what now?"
Shoya: " first i need to know what's this key is for! And want to figure out what happened to Kaori. For real."
Taka crossed his arms. "And why so curious to know?"
Shoya didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
---
That afternoon, the three of them ducked out of club period early.
They didn't tell Asuna—Shoya insisted. Not yet. She wasn't good at keeping things subtle. And she liked Naomi.
Instead, they made their way to the back of campus. Near the art building. The sculpture wing.
Shoya guessed that this key might be to Naomi's locker or Kaori's locker, might even be to none of them"
Ken said that he saw Naomi this morning using her locker so probably it's not hers.
So they decided to search for Kaori's locker.
According to the old campus maps, Kaori's last club room was there. The hallway outside it was strangely quiet now. No teachers. No students. Just old, mounted displays and faded flyers on a bulletin board.
Taka ran his hand along the lockers. "These belong to art club students?"
Ken: "Doubt it. This wing's barely active since the flood last spring."
Then—something.
A locker. Half-scratched. Numbered 18B.
The key.
Shoya slowly reached into his pocket. Inserted it.
It clicked.
The door swung open with a small metallic groan.
Inside: a dust-covered sketchbook. A single dried flower tucked into the rings. A folded paper wrapped around something thin and flat.
Taka pulled the paper out carefully.
Ken: "What is it?"
Shoya took it, opened it slowly.
Inside: a photo. Of Naomi and another girl which probably is Kaori since it was inside her locker.
Not just standing near each other. Laughing. Arms linked.
.
---
Shoya's chest tightened.
He hadn't known they were that close.
Ken looked between the photo and Shoya. "Dude…"
Taka pulled out the sketchbook next, flipping carefully through its charcoal pages. Mostly floral studies. Garden layouts. A few detailed drawings of hands holding shears. Then—
On one page, faintly in pencil:
> "Some plants die loudly. Others just fade."
Beneath it:
> Kaori.
---
They didn't talk much after that.
By silent agreement, the photo and sketchbook were zipped into Shoya's bag and carried back to his dorm. Taka offered to hold onto the key — "just in case," he said — but Shoya didn't hand it over.
He didn't explain why. He just couldn't.
Later that night, he sat alone in the common room while the dorm TV played a loud game show two rooms over. He opened the sketchbook again. Flipped back to the page with the quote.
> "Some plants die loudly. Others just fade."
Kaori.
He didn't know what it meant exactly.
He thought he kind of ignored Naomi these 2 days, this looked like a bad thing he has done.
A buzz broke the quiet.
His phone lit up with a message from the unknown number:
> "Keep looking. The garden isn't where it ends."
Attached was a photo.
A newspaper clipping. Faint, yellowed. A headline half-visible.
> Student Disappearance Near Art Wing…
He tapped to zoom in. The date was blurred — but the name wasn't.
Kaori Sakamura
It was real. The school just never talked about it.
No announcements. No memorial. Just… silence.
Shoya's skin went cold. Even Ken and Taka, who lived on the same campus, had never mentioned it. How deep had it been buried?
---
The next morning's first class was mandatory — a combined elective between Humanities and Visual Form.
The students sat scattered across a wide studio classroom. Canvases lined the back wall, their oil paints half-dried. Naomi sat two rows from the window, sketching idly in her notebook, her hair half-pinned like always.
She didn't look up when Shoya entered. But he caught the slight turn of her head — just enough to know she knew he was there.
That was when the new instructor walked in.
"Good morning," the man said, smooth-voiced. He was in his early 40s, maybe, with thin glasses and a faint smile. "I'm Professor Takeda. I'll be leading this seminar block."
Most students perked up — his tone was easy, practiced. Like someone used to stages. He looked like someone that took care of himself, thats why most girls took a liking in him in the first glance.
"We'll be exploring how emotion influences structure. Form driven by memory, and the weight of unfinished narratives."
Shoya's grip on his pencil tightened.
Behind him, Taka muttered, "Bit dramatic, huh?"
Ken just rolled his eyes.
Takeda paced once across the front, stopping near the chalkboard. "Art is haunted by its makers. Even when the makers vanish."
A few students chuckled nervously. Naomi didn't react.
Shoya watched her carefully. Not once did her eyes meet Takeda's. She just kept sketching—slow, quiet strokes.
But her fingers were trembling.
Not enough for anyone else to notice.
But he noticed.
---
The class ended quietly,
No one clapped or said anything when Takeda dismissed them. Some gathered their things slowly. Others filtered out in pairs, already gossiping about how "cool" or "mysterious" the new professor seemed.
Shoya didn't leave right away. Neither did Naomi.
He stood frozen near the exit, pretending to text someone while watching from the corner of his eye. She was still sketching, one elbow on the table, her notebook angled away from view. Her head was tilted down, but her pencil had stopped moving.
Only her hand was still shaking.
Then—she closed the notebook and stood up. Not hurriedly, not too slow either. Just deliberately enough to seem like everything was fine.
But Shoya had spent enough nights reading between the lines to know that when someone moves too carefully… it's because something inside them isn't.
Naomi didn't look at him as she walked past. But she did glance back for half a second once she reached the door.
And that was enough.
Shoya picked up his bag and followed.
---
She didn't go back to her apartment. Not yet.
Instead, she went to the east side of campus — near the old botanical building, now converted into part of the humanities department. Most students didn't come here except for essay consultations or Amari's lectures.
Shoya hesitated at the corner but followed the path around the ivy-covered brick walls.
He stopped when he saw the two of them — Naomi and Professor Amari — standing under the awning just beside the rear stairwell.
Amari wasn't smiling. She rarely did when she was being real. Her expression was firm, eyes narrowed as she glanced around, clearly checking if they were alone. Naomi stood rigid, arms crossed, her gaze lowered.
Their voices didn't carry far. But Shoya caught one word.
> "Kaori."
Then Naomi shook her head. Whatever Amari said next, her tone dropped lower — protective, almost fierce. A side of her most students didn't see.
Naomi only nodded once, but her jaw was clenched tight. She looked like someone who had too many secrets stuffed inside her lungs and not enough breath left to exhale them.
Shoya backed away slowly.
He didn't want to be caught spying.
But he didn't want to stop watching either.
---
Back in the dorm later, Ken was tossing snacks into his mouth while scrolling endlessly through some forum.
"You know anything about Takeda?" Shoya asked suddenly.
Ken blinked. "New prof? Nah, why?"
"Just feels weird," Shoya said. "He talks like he already knows the campus… like he's been here before."
Ken shrugged. "Could've studied here. Or maybe he's just that kinda guy. Y'know, the cryptic poetry type."
Shoya didn't respond.
In his pocket, his phone buzzed again.
> Unknown Number:
this time was no photo — only a timestamp.
March 3, 2022 – 6:14 PM
A memory.
Maybe a clue.
Maybe a warning.
Shoya stared at the screen long after it dimmed.
Outside, the rain hadn't stopped.
And somewhere beneath it,
someone was digging into the past.
---
To be continued in chapter 12...