Spring in Tokyo always felt like a lie.
Not because it was unpleasant—if anything, it was too perfect. The sky stretched endlessly in a pale blue, clouds drifting lazily as if they had nowhere important to be. Cherry blossoms bloomed along the school grounds, their petals falling like soft snow whenever the wind passed.
Everyone loved it.
Everyone except me.
Because days like this felt… forgettable.
The kind that slipped through your fingers without leaving anything behind.
My name is **Haruki Kisaragi**, and if someone asked me what I did yesterday, I probably wouldn't be able to answer.
Not because nothing happened.
But because nothing *mattered enough to stay*.
"…Kisaragi, are you listening?"
I blinked.
The classroom snapped back into focus.
Rows of desks. Sunlight spilling across the floor. The faint scratching of pens. A teacher standing at the front, chalk in hand, looking mildly annoyed.
"…Yes," I said automatically.
A pause.
"…Then repeat what I just explained."
Silence.
I stared at him.
He stared back.
"…It was about… the assignment?" I guessed.
A few students snickered.
The teacher sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Stay after class."
"…Yes, sir."
The moment passed. He turned back to the board, continuing his explanation.
I leaned slightly toward the window.
That's where I always ended up.
Not because I liked the view.
But because it felt like the only place where something might change.
Outside, the courtyard was alive with movement. Students walked between buildings, some laughing, some arguing, some rushing like their lives depended on it.
Normal.
Everything was normal.
Until—
I saw her.
At first, she didn't stand out.
A girl near the school gate. Standing still. Looking inward, toward the campus.
There was nothing unusual about that.
Except—
She didn't move.
Not even slightly.
The wind brushed through the cherry blossom trees, sending petals drifting down around her.
Her long black hair should have moved.
It didn't.
Students passed by her.
Some walked close.
Too close.
One of them—
Walked straight through her.
My breath caught.
"…What?"
I leaned forward, my chair scraping faintly against the floor.
No one reacted.
Not the student.
Not anyone nearby.
It was as if nothing had happened.
As if she wasn't even there.
But she was.
Because I could see her.
Clear as day.
"…That's not possible…"
I rubbed my eyes hard.
Once.
Twice.
When I looked again—
She was still there.
Unchanged.
Unmoving.
And then—
She turned.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
As if responding to something.
Or someone.
Her gaze lifted.
And locked onto mine.
In that instant—
Everything stopped.
The classroom noise faded into silence.
The scratching of pens disappeared.
Even the teacher's voice vanished, like someone had muted the world.
There was only her.
Her eyes.
Calm.
Deep.
And impossibly focused.
Not looking past me.
Not looking through me.
Looking *at* me.
Like she could see me just as clearly.
Like she had been waiting for me to notice her.
My heart pounded.
Loud.
Heavy.
Real.
"…Who…?"
The word barely formed in my mind.
And just like that—
The moment shattered.
The bell rang.
A harsh, sudden sound that crashed through everything.
Students stood. Chairs scraped loudly. Conversations exploded across the room.
Reality rushed back in all at once.
I didn't move.
I couldn't.
"…Kisaragi!"
I flinched.
A hand slapped down on my desk.
I looked up.
**Daichi Morita** stood there, frowning.
"You alive or what?"
"…Yeah," I said quietly.
"You've been staring outside for like ten minutes."
"…Have I?"
"Yeah. It's creepy."
I didn't respond.
Instead, I looked back toward the window.
The gate—
Was empty.
No girl.
No figure.
Nothing.
"…She's gone."
"What?" Daichi asked.
"…Nothing."
I grabbed my bag and stood up.
"Let's go."
---
I didn't go straight home that day.
Instead, I walked toward the school gate.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like I was afraid something might break if I moved too fast.
Students passed me in groups, their voices blending into a constant hum of noise. Someone laughed loudly nearby. A bike rolled past the entrance. A teacher called out to a student running late.
Everything felt normal.
Too normal.
I reached the gate.
And stopped.
Nothing.
Just empty space.
"…Of course," I muttered.
"What did you expect?"
I exhaled slowly.
Maybe I imagined it.
That had to be it.
A trick of the light. A moment of distraction. My brain filling in something that wasn't there.
That happens, right?
People see things that aren't real all the time.
"…Yeah," I said under my breath. "That's all it was."
"Kisaragi?"
I turned.
Daichi stood a few steps behind me, looking confused.
"You seriously planning to live at the school now?"
"…No. I was just thinking."
"Dangerous habit."
"…Shut up."
He smirked. "There you are. Thought you got possessed or something."
"…Funny."
He adjusted his bag. "Anyway, I'm heading out. You coming?"
"In a bit."
He shrugged. "Don't take too long."
"Yeah."
He left.
And just like that—
I was alone again.
The gate stood quiet.
Still.
Normal.
Like nothing had ever happened.
"…I'm overthinking this."
I turned to leave.
"…You didn't imagine it."
My body froze.
The voice came from behind me.
Soft.
Clear.
Close.
Too close.
Slowly—
I turned around.
And she was there.
Standing just a few steps away.
Closer than before.
Much closer.
My breath caught in my throat.
"…You…"
Up close, she looked even more unreal.
Her features were delicate, almost too perfect. Long black hair fell straight down her back, untouched by the wind. Her eyes—dark, deep, and strangely calm—watched me without hesitation.
She tilted her head slightly.
"You can see me."
It wasn't a question.
"…What are you?"
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
She blinked once.
Then gave a faint, almost curious smile.
"I don't know."
"…That's not funny."
"I'm not trying to be."
Her voice was gentle.
Honest.
And that made it worse.
I took a step back.
"Which class are you from?"
"I'm not in any class."
"That's impossible."
"Is it?"
"…Yes."
Silence fell between us.
Students walked past.
Through her.
Like she wasn't there.
No reactions.
No hesitation.
Nothing.
"…Do you see that?" I asked.
"Yes."
"And you're just… okay with it?"
She looked at the students.
Then back at me.
"…I'm used to it."
A chill ran down my spine.
"…How long?"
"I don't know."
"That's not an answer."
"I don't have one."
"…What do you mean you don't know?"
She paused.
Like she was searching for something.
"…I don't remember," she said quietly.
"…You don't remember?"
She shook her head.
"My name… where I came from… why I'm here…"
Her gaze didn't waver.
"I don't remember anything."
"…Then how are you so calm about it?"
Another pause.
Then—
"…Because no one ever noticed."
My chest tightened.
"…Until now," she added.
"…Because I can see you."
"Yes."
"…And no one else can."
"Yes."
"…Why me?"
She looked at me.
For a long moment.
Then said:
"I don't know."
Of course she didn't.
---
The wind picked up slightly, sending a few cherry blossom petals drifting between us.
One passed through her shoulder.
Like she wasn't there.
"…This doesn't make sense," I said.
"I know."
"…You shouldn't exist."
"I know."
"…Then why do you?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she took a small step closer.
Close enough that I could see the faint reflection of myself in her eyes.
"…Do I feel real?" she asked.
"…What?"
"To you."
I hesitated.
Then—
"…Yes."
Her expression softened.
Just slightly.
"…Then maybe that's enough."
I didn't know how to respond to that.
Because it wasn't enough.
Not for me.
"…What's your name?" I asked.
She froze.
Not physically.
But something in her expression changed.
Like I had asked something important.
Something fragile.
"…I don't have one," she said.
"…Everyone has a name."
"I don't."
"…Then I'll call you something."
"You can do that?"
"…Someone has to."
She thought about it.
Then nodded once.
"…Okay."
I looked at her.
At her stillness.
At the way the world moved around her but never touched her.
"…Yuki," I said.
"…Yuki?"
"It means snow."
"…Snow…"
She repeated the word softly.
As if testing it.
As if it meant something she couldn't quite remember.
"…Yuki," she said again.
Then she looked at me.
And smiled.
A small.
Fragile.
Real smile.
"…I like it."
---
And just like that—
She had a name.
Even if—
She shouldn't have existed at all.
---
That night, I couldn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes—
I saw her.
Standing there.
Looking at me.
"…Yuki…"
I whispered the name into the darkness.
And for some reason—
I felt like if I stopped saying it—
She might disappear.
Like she had never been there in the first place.
"…This is crazy."
But even as I said that—
I knew.
Deep down.
This wasn't something I could ignore.
Because she was real.
At least—
To me.
And that was enough to change everything.
---