I woke up with a start. My chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths; my skin was slick with cold sweat. It was the same dream again—every night without fail. A shrine bathed in silver moonlight, its wooden beams faded yet dignified, the stillness of the garden broken only by the rustle of unseen leaves. And always, at the center of it, a single sheathed katana resting on a weathered stone pedestal.
A snake, pale as moonlight itself, wound its way up the length of the scabbard, scales glimmering as if polished by starlight. Its golden eyes never left mine. Each time I took a step forward, my body felt heavier, as if the very air were resisting me. And yet, despite the pressure, I felt compelled—no, drawn—to reach out. My fingers would hover inches from the hilt, the cool lacquer practically humming beneath the surface, when the moment broke. Either the snake would rear its head, fangs flashing, or my heart would jolt awake.
And tonight was no different.
I rubbed my face with both hands, trying to chase away the lingering images. "Same dream, huh…" I muttered to myself. It felt so real that my fingertips still tingled, as if I had touched the sword.
"Reiji! You'll be late if you don't get up!"
My mother's voice drifted through the paper-thin walls of our house, warm and grounding. Whatever weight lingered from the dream lifted almost immediately, dissolving like morning mist. I sat up, the wooden floor cool beneath my bare feet, and let out a long sigh.
"Coming, Mom!"
Today was my first day of high school. Karakura High. A fresh start, though not far from where I'd always been. I wasn't nervous—nerves never really stuck to me. But there was something about the thought of walking through those doors, seeing familiar faces, and pretending life was just normal that felt heavier than the dream itself.
I changed quickly, the crisp new uniform stiff around the shoulders, and grabbed my bag before heading to the kitchen. The smell of grilled fish and rice greeted me, simple but comforting. My mom looked up from the stove, smiling in that way only she could.
"You're up earlier than I expected."
I shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."
"Another one of those dreams?"
I froze halfway to sitting down. She had noticed the bags under my eyes more than I thought. "…Yeah. But it's nothing."
She hummed softly, setting down a plate. "Dreams only bother us when they mean something. Don't brush it off too easily."
I gave her a small smile. "You sound like a fortune teller."
"Maybe I should've been one."
The morning passed quickly after that, and soon enough, I found myself walking the familiar streets of Karakura. The town was as lively as always: shopkeepers opening their doors, kids chasing each other down sidewalks, the occasional flash of a strange shadow darting along the rooftops. I'd learned a long time ago not to react to those shadows. Most people couldn't see them. But I could.
Hollows.
Grotesque, distorted things that roamed the edges of our world. When I was younger, I thought I was crazy. But eventually, I realized others could see them too. I'd even caught glimpses of the black-robed figures that fought them—Soul Reapers. Not that I ever wanted to be one. That kind of life? Too much hassle. Too much blood.
No, I trusted that people stronger than me would always be there to handle it.
Still, the dreams… they were getting harder to ignore.
By the time I reached Karakura High, students were already gathered in small clumps, chatting animatedly. Familiar faces popped out immediately—Ichigo Kurosaki with his bright orange hair, standing stiff as if daring anyone to comment on it. Orihime Inoue waved cheerfully to Chad, who towered above the crowd. Uryū Ishida is just adjusting his glasses with that precise, detached air of his.
I slipped into the crowd quietly, unnoticed as always. That was fine by me. Blending in was easier than standing out.
Classes blurred together. Teachers droned on about schedules, expectations, and rules, while my mind wandered back to the shrine. Every time I blinked too long, I swore I could hear the faint hiss of scales brushing stone.
When lunch came around, I ended up on the rooftop, away from the noise of classrooms. The breeze carried the smell of summer grass, and from here, I could see the whole town stretching out under the clear sky.
"Why do you keep showing me that sword?" I muttered under my breath. "I'm not… like them."
The words surprised me, though no one was around to hear them.
For a moment, I thought I saw movement at the edge of the rooftop—a glimmer, like moonlight on water. But when I looked again, there was nothing. Only the faint echo of a whisper, carried away on the wind.
Come closer.
I shook my head, gripping the railing until my knuckles whitened. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe dreams meant something.
But for now, all I could do was ignore it. Pretend I didn't see the cracks forming in the edge of my world. Pretend I wasn't standing in the shadow of something waiting for me to reach out and claim it.