By the next morning, the whispers weren't confined to the stairwell anymore. They had escaped into the hallways, carried on the tongues of students who thrived on half-truths and secrets.
Hayato noticed it first in homeroom. A group of girls leaned close together, giggling behind their hands. One of them whispered loud enough for the entire row to hear:
"They say someone actually heard a voice down there again."
"Really? At the west stairwell?" another chimed in. "That's the third time this week!"
Their laughter rang out, half-mocking, half-nervous.
Hayato felt a chill, remembering the faint breath of sound he and Aiko had heard just the evening before.
Across the room, Aiko met his eyes. She didn't laugh. She only gave him a small, knowing glance before looking away.
By lunchtime, the rumor had snowballed. Some students swore they'd seen a shadow move where no one stood. Others whispered that if you went to the stairwell alone after school, you'd hear a voice call your name.
"It's just a dumb ghost story," muttered Satoshi, one of Hayato's classmates, when the subject came up at their table. "Someone probably left a window open down there. The wind does the rest."
But even as he spoke, his tone wasn't convincing.
Another boy leaned in. "No, my senpai told me it's been happening for years. Some girl… she—" He stopped, lowering his voice until only fragments carried. "…disappeared there… they never found…"
The table fell into silence. For once, no one wanted to laugh.
That afternoon, when the classroom emptied and the light grew golden against the windows, Aiko stayed behind with Hayato.
"Everyone's talking about it now," she said, her voice quieter than usual. "Do you think we should… stop going?"
Hayato hesitated. Part of him wanted to say yes—end it before the rumors grew claws that could catch them too. But another part, the stronger part, thought of their small world in the stairwell—their spot, their silence, their almost-moments.
"…No," he said at last. "Let them talk. We know what we heard."
Aiko's lips parted as if she wanted to argue, but then she closed them again. Instead, she gave a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Alright," she whispered.
But as they walked together toward the stairs, the air felt heavier than before. The whispers weren't just theirs anymore. The whole school was listening.