The dream began with laughter. Lanterns swung above a street where everyone wore painted masks of her face, wide and grinning.
She laughed too at the things happening. The jokes, the performance, until she noticed strings brushing her shoulders. They seemed to lead to above her, but when she looked up in an attempt to trace where they hung from, she got lost in the immersive darkness of the night sky.
As she moved through the streets of the festival, ignoring the string, she saw a beast made of shadows crouched in an alley, its chains rattling as it spoke with her own voice, but deeper, distant and rough. "Feed me."
She tossed it scraps from the feast. It ate, growing larger with every bite, its chains loosening gradually.
Then a whisper cut through the carnival noise, reaching her in the alley.
"Yin."
The name struck her knees like a hammer. The strings tightened, enough for her to feel it's strain, almost pulling her up. The beast threw its head back and laughed — her laugh, only deeper.
In an instant, she looked up and saw a table stretching into the dark as the alley she was in faded away. Empty chairs, waiting. She pulled one out with a grin, waved for the shadows tied to the walls around her to sit, and said, "Everyone deserves to join the feast."
The beast had somehow managed to break free from its chains as it crouched beneath the table, licking its teeth. And just like before, a voice echoes through the room, calling out the name "Yin"
She jolted upright, breath caught in her throat, sweat running down her face and neck in cold rivulets. Her heart thudded against her ribs like it wanted to escape. The room around her was steeped in darkness, the air heavy and still. With a trembling hand, she reached for the lamp on her nightstand and flicked it on.
The soft yellow glow lit up just enough to reveal her pale face and shaking fingers. Amane blinked against the light, her eyes darting to the clock on the table.
4:17 AM.
Another night. Another dream. The same one she'd been having for three years—like a curse that tightened its grip every time she closed her eyes.
She drew a deep, shaky breath, then another, before collapsing backward onto the bed. The duvet clung to her damp skin as she stared up at the ceiling, her mind a quiet storm of thoughts.
"How much longer can I live like this? Every time I try to sleep, it's always the same result'.
Turning to her side, she curled up, one arm tucked under her head as if it could keep her together. The room was silent except for the faint, muffled hum of the approaching dawn.
First, a single tear slipped down her cheek. Then another. And then, as though a dam had broken, the tears came freely. Her body trembled with each sob, the sound barely audible but heavy enough to fill the room.
***
Itsuki stepped into the classroom, headphones dangling loosely around his neck—a reminder that he'd learned his lesson about listening to music with them around people. As he made his way to his seat, his eyes instinctively scanned the room, searching for his teacher. Usually, by this time, the man would already be here, leaning against a desk and chatting up some girl, spinning the same empty promises that always seemed to work on them.
As he looked round noticing he wasn't yet in the class, Itsuki's gaze drifted past Amane. She sat slouched over her desk, head resting on folded arms.
"Is she okay?' he wondered. This was only the second day he'd seen her, so they weren't anywhere close to the kind of relationship where he'd bother asking. He didn't go that far with Seiji, and Seiji was someone he actually tried with—at least enough not to leave him hanging when he asked questions.
"if something is wrong with her, she won't be in the mood to answer my questions anyway.'
His eyes lingered on her a moment longer before he sighed internally. "What a drag."
Just then, the classroom door slid open. A tall woman entered, accompanied by the vice principal.
"Hello, students. Settle down, please," the man called, following close behind her.
The woman looked like she belonged on a runway more than in a school—long blonde hair, clear blue eyes, a slender build that made her just a little taller than most women but not enough to stand out awkwardly. She looked too polished, too striking, the kind of beauty that drew attention even when she wasn't trying.
The vice principal spoke again. "Unfortunately, your homeroom teacher, Mr. Renji, submitted an abrupt resignation yesterday. Starting today, Mrs. Aoyama will be your new permanent homeroom teacher." He gave a few more words of formality before excusing himself and leaving her in charge.
Itsuki only glanced at her for a few seconds—maybe less—before his gaze slid back to Amane, who still hadn't lifted her head from the desk.
"I know I've only seen her for a day, but she doesn't seem like the type to stay up all night and pass out in class.'
Leaning forward slightly, he tried to catch a glimpse of her face. "Maybe she's not asleep at all.' But when he tilted low enough, he saw the steady rhythm of her breathing. She was definitely asleep.
He straightened up again. "A slacker, huh? Maybe that's the common trait? Everyone who sees demons is a slacker of some kind.'
He decided not to think too hard about it. Truthfully, he was tempted to follow her example, close his eyes, and drift off—dreams be damned. But he resisted. He still hadn't figured out what was wrong with him, and what little he had figured out wasn't solid enough to trust.
The day dragged on. Lessons blurred together, lunch came and went, but every time he glanced her way, she was still there—head buried in her arms, unmoving.
"She's still asleep?!' Itsuki blinked at the sight as the time neared the final period, unable to hide his disbelief. "Even I can't manage that. And I'm the laziest person I know.'
Her posture never changed. Not once.
"I can't exactly touch her… that could trigger another vision. Maybe I'll just wait until the final bell.'
When the bell finally rang, Amane stirred all at once, jerking upright as though pulled from somewhere far deeper than an ordinary nap. Her breathing was somewhat uneven, chest rising and falling sharply. No one else noticed in the chaos of students packing up—except Itsuki, who watched her with wide, confused eyes.
She turned, catching his gaze. "What time is it?" she asked softly, her voice groggy but oddly fragile.
"It's three," he answered, still staring.
Her expression twisted with genuine shock, as if she hadn't just been dozing but trapped somewhere else entirely. Itsuki frowned. "Why wake only at the final bell? Why not at lunch?'
"You okay?" he asked, forcing his tone to sound gentler than usual. He wasn't sure what was wrong, but he needed her to be fine. He still had questions—too many to let her break now.
"I'm fine," she replied quickly, bowing politely before gathering her things. Then, without another word, she slipped into the stream of students filing out of the room.
Itsuki stayed in his seat, watching her go.
"If this were a movie, I'd get up and chase after her. She clearly needs help, and I clearly need answers.'
But this wasn't a movie.
"I'll just ask her tomorrow," he muttered, finally rising from his seat. Hands buried in his pockets, he made his way out of the classroom, through the noisy hallway, and toward the school's front doors.
"Still… that was weird. Sleeping through an entire day without a single teacher calling her out?' He shoved the thought aside with a quiet sigh as he stepped outside.
"What a strange person'.