The room stayed dim, lit only by the faint glow of Ayaka's laptop on Kōki's desk. Dust drifted through the air, stirred whenever someone moved.
Kōki sat rigid on the chair, his palms pressed flat against his knees as if holding himself in place. Sayoko hovered beside the desk, her translucent form faint but unmistakable. She leaned closer to the screen and lifted her hand to point.
The display flickered under her touch. Pixels warped for a brief second, and a dry scratching sound slipped out of the speakers.
Sayoko jerked back, her shoulders drawing in as the noise startled her. Ayaka shifted her stance, one foot sliding back as her gaze snapped to the screen, her grip on the edge of the desk tightening while the unease settled in the room.
Kōki's shoulders lifted with a shallow breath before settling again. the faint tremor lingering in his voice.
Ayaka turned toward him, her eyes wide as her breath caught. Her lips parted, then pressed together before she spoke. "Yes… I do. The only person who knew everything you just said… was Sayoko."
Her hand rose to her chest, fingers curling into the fabric as if to steady herself.
"Nice job, Sayoko. Keep at it like that, and maybe he'll finally agree to help us."
Takuto's voice drifted in with an easy tone as his head slid straight through the wall. Half his body remained on the other side, the edge of the surface cutting cleanly through his shoulders.
"Ugh—just be quiet. And stop doing that already. You're going to freak him out."
Sayoko's brows knit as her cheeks puffed out, irritation tightening her expression. She twisted at the waist and swung her foot through the space where Takuto's head hovered. Her heel connected, snapping his head back through the wall.
A dull thud echoed from the other side, brief but clear.
Kōki's shoulders jerked upward. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, his skin prickling with cold sweat. "That was… not normal."
"Oh—wait, I almost forgot to ask."
Sayoko turned back toward him in one quick motion, cutting off any lingering tension in the room. Her shoulders lowered slightly, and the sharpness in her posture eased as she faced him again.
"I haven't seen Yuri around today. Where is she?"
Kōki lowered his eyes. "Yuri… died two years ago. She was run over by a car."
Sayoko froze mid-motion. Her eyes widened for a brief moment before dropping toward the floor, the light in them dulling.
"Oh… I didn't know."
Her voice fell to a near whisper. Poor cat.
Before Kōki could react, a brief flash of light flared near the window and vanished. The glow reflected off the glass.
Sayoko blinked and turned her head toward the window, her focus sharpening. "What was that just now?"
Ayaka, already on her feet beside the desk, leaned closer to the laptop screen. One hand braced against the edge as she angled the display toward him.
"Kō—come here. Look at this."
Her voice came out tight.
Kōki pushed himself upright, his knees wobbling as he crossed the room. He stopped at her side and leaned over her shoulder. His breath stalled in his chest the moment his eyes settled on the blurry footage playing on the screen.
"It's not clear… but she's really there. She's floating."
Ayaka's voice dropped as the words left her, breaking slightly at the end. This is… kind of creepy.
Sayoko drew in a small breath and cleared her throat, drifting closer to him. Her expression settled into something more focused, the earlier softness gone.
She stopped at his side, hands held still, her gaze lifting to meet his. "Um… Kōki-kun. There's something I need to tell you."
Kōki turned toward her and took a step back without thinking. His brows drew together, and his shoulders tensed as he put a small distance between them.
"What is it…?"
His breath came out shallow before he continued, eyes fixed on her. "Is that why you followed me here?"
The hesitation lingered in his voice, a thin edge of fear slipping through as he waited for her answer.
"Yes."
Sayoko brought her hands together at her chest, fingers interlacing as they tightened. Her gaze dropped, lashes lowering as her shoulders drew in slightly.
"We… we have reason to believe my death wasn't an accident."
She paused, a careful breath passing through her before she finished. "It was a homicide."
Kōki stiffened where he stood. His shoulders lifted with a sharp breath, and his eyes widened as he looked at her. "What do you mean?"
The words came out a little louder than he intended, the surprise in his voice surfacing.
Her voice remained even as the words left her. "That's why I'm relieved you can see me...Kōki-kun. You can help me find out who took my life."
a faint pause slipped in before her final words. "If I don't… I won't be able to move on to the next life."
As she spoke, Sayoko floated casually above his head, her hair shifting as if stirred by a faint breeze that wasn't there.
"I see…"
Kōki's chest tightened. He shifted his weight and dragged his fingers along the side of his arm, the motion slow and uncertain.
"I don't really know what you expect from me. All of this is… a lot."
He drew in a breath and let it out carefully, shoulders settling just a little. "But I'll try. I'll see what I can do."
Sayoko's expression lifted, her eyes widening as a spark of relief surfaced. Her shoulders eased, and she leaned closer without thinking.
"Oh—thank you, Kōki-kun. Really. You're the best."
She moved in to hug him, her arms coming forward with the motion. Her form slipped straight through his body, the contact never landing. She halted on the other side, hands hovering in the air.
Kōki let out a strangled yelp and staggered back a step, his heel scraping against the floor. A sharp chill rushed up his spine, and his shoulders hitched as his breath broke.
His jaw tightened, teeth clicking once before he caught himself. "P-please don't do that again."
He rubbed his arms briskly, trying to chase away the lingering cold, his posture still tense. "It feels… weird."
"Okay, okay—I won't."
Sayoko lifted both hands in front of her, palms out in a quick, defensive gesture. Her shoulders bounced once, and a small smile crept onto her face despite herself. It's just… I'm really happy right now.
Sayoko's voice dropped again, the earlier lightness fading. Her posture settled, and her hands came together loosely in front of her as her gaze drifted downward.
"I don't remember everything about my death. A lot of it is gone.When I crossed over, most of my memories disappeared."
Her fingers tightened slightly, then relaxed. "But some things are still there."
She lifted her eyes to him, focus steady. "I didn't forget you, Kōki-kun."
A brief hesitation followed, her brows drawing together as she searched for the right words. "Or Arata… there was a guy named Arata. He was… a good friend of mine."
"So… what you're saying is that someone actually killed you?"
Kōki's voice steadied as he spoke, though his jaw stayed tight.
Ayaka frowned from beside the desk. She watched his lips move, her gaze shifting between his face and the empty space in front of him.
"Kō… who are you talking to?"
Her brows pulled together as she leaned forward slightly. "Is it Sayoko now?"
"Hold on. Stay quiet for a minute."
Kōki lifted one hand toward Ayaka without looking away, his palm half-raised in a restrained gesture. I'm trying to think.
Ayaka straightened immediately, her expression sharpening. "Excuse me?"
She planted her hands on her hips, eyes locking onto him. "Who do you think you're talking to like that, mister?"
Sayoko continued, her brows slightly furrowed. "When I met Ayaka earlier… all these memories of her started to come back. Do you think that means anything?"
Kōki folded his arms, tapping his fingers against uniform sleeve. He looked at her with a sharp seriousness.
"It's possible. The people you remember… they might either be connected to your death, or they might be the ones who can help uncover the truth. And as for those fragments of memory—maybe seeing people you knew in life triggers them. If that's the case, we should bring you into contact with as many people from your past as possible."
"That's great, Kōki-kun."
Her shoulders rose with a quick breath, excitement slipping into her voice. "So… can we start right now?"
She glanced around the room, lips pressing together before she looked back at him. It's way too boring just staying in your room.
Before Kōki could respond, Takuto's head pushed through the wall again, cutting into the space beside them. His grin appeared first, followed by his shoulders stopping halfway through the surface.
"Yeah—let's go already!"
Kōki jolted and spun around too fast, his balance breaking the moment he moved. His foot caught on the door frame, and his breath tore out of his chest.
He stumbled backward, arms flailing once before his footing gave way completely. His body tipped out of the room, and he went down hard, tumbling down the stairs.
The crash echoed through the house, sharp and unmistakable.
"Kō!" Ayaka shouted, rushing to the edge of the steps.
"Kōki-kun!" Sayoko floated down after him.
Kōki groaned, clutching his back as he sat up against the wall. "Ow… damn it. Who the hell is that dead guy anyway?!"
His voice cracked with both pain and irritation. He just keeps popping up and doing that creepy thing with his head.
Sayoko hovered nearby, her face sympathetic. "I'm not sure myself. He told me his name was Takuto. I met him in the old section of the school, where I first woke up. He kept calling my name, so I thought he knew me. But… like me, he doesn't remember anything from before."
"I see…" Kōki muttered, his breath heavy as he tried to absorb everything. His pulse was still racing from the fall.
Sayoko's tone softened, her voice almost trembling. "It's strange, isn't it? Both of us—stuck in this in-between world, trying to put together the fragments of who we were. But… I still have hope. With your help, Kōki-kun, maybe we can solve the mystery of my death. And maybe we'll figure out what's going on with Takuto too."
Kōki met her gaze, his expression conflicted but firm. "I don't know how we're going to figure this out… but if it means helping you, I'll try. I'll do whatever I can."
Sayoko's eyes softened, shimmering faintly as though on the verge of tears. "Thank you… Kōki-kun."
Her whisper was full of gratitude, almost fragile.