"Bro, I swear, I'll finish One Punch Man tonight," Jun said, leaning back in his chair like he'd just declared a national achievement.
"You said that last week," Kiro shot back. "I bet you'll start watching One Piece next and call it the GOAT again."
"It is the GOAT!" Jun grinned, raising his voice loud enough for half the class to turn. "Right, Taro?"
The boy at the window didn't respond. His fingers traced a faint crack on the desk. His eyes were blank, unfocused, somewhere far away.
"Hey—Taro," Kiro called again. "You alive, man?"
Taro blinked, his mind returning from wherever it had drifted. "Huh? Oh… yeah. Truly."He forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes and started packing up his bag.
"Where're you going?" Jun asked."Washroom," Taro said flatly."Come quick, next class in five," Kiro reminded him.Taro raised a thumb without turning back.
The corridor was unusually quiet.Most students had already gone to their next classes, their laughter echoing faintly from somewhere down the hall. Taro walked slowly, his shoes squeaking against the polished floor.
As he kept walking, something felt… off.The corridor seemed longer than usual — the doors stretched farther apart, the light flickered in the ceiling lamps.
He frowned. "Was it always this big?"He chuckled weakly to himself. "Maybe I'm just being dumb again."
He kept walking.
But from another's eyes — anyone watching from the classroom door — Taro was barely moving. His steps were slow, unsteady, like he was underwater. The hallway wasn't growing; it was his mind shrinking, spiraling in on itself.
A tap on his shoulder snapped him back.
"Hey, Taro, what are you doing?"
He turned sharply. Kiro stood there, eyebrows raised.
Taro blinked hard, realizing he was only halfway down the hall. "Ah—nothing. Just zoning out."
Kiro sighed. "You okay? You've been weird lately.""Yeah," Taro said quickly. "Thanks, Kiro. I'm fine."
He walked off before Kiro could say anything else.
The washroom was empty — just the hum of the fluorescent lights and the sound of water dripping somewhere.
Taro went to the mirror. His face looked pale under the harsh light, his breath visible from the cold outside. He leaned in, pressing at a small acne on his cheek and muttering, "Great timing."
Then, in the mirror, something shifted.
A shadow stood beside him.
A girl — face hidden, hair brushing over her shoulders, body faintly outlined by the dim reflection. She was waving gently at him.
Taro froze. His heart stopped for half a second — then, instinctively, he smiled."Hey… Chiyo."
His voice cracked when he said her name.
The figure smiled softly — or maybe it only looked that way — and then faded like dust into the air.The mirror fogged for a second, and when it cleared, only Taro remained.
He let out a shaky laugh. "I'm seeing things again."
But when he looked up once more, his reflection didn't move with him.
The mirror-Taro stared straight ahead, eyes wide, lips curling into a grin that wasn't his.The grin widened — teeth showing — and the reflection's hand slowly reached forward, pressing against the glass as if trying to crawl out.
Taro stumbled back, knocking into the sink.His reflection's eyes followed him, the smile growing unnaturally sharp.
"Stop it," he whispered. "Stop it."
The reflection pressed harder — the sound of creaking glass filled the air. For a moment, Taro thought the mirror would shatter.
And then—
The world blinked.
The sky outside the school turned gray, then dark.The faint hum of the city faded into silence.
A date flashed across the screen of his mind:
December 24, 2029.
Snow was falling over the schoolyard. Empty swings creaked in the wind. The windows glowed dimly from inside, but no one was there.
Then, without warning, everything rewound — like a tape spinning backward.
December 22, 2029.
Taro was in his bed, staring at his phone.The glow of the screen reflected in his eyes — wide, empty, trembling.His room was a mess: textbooks half-open, curtains drawn, the winter light pale against the floor.
He could hear the faint hum of the news anchor's voice from his phone speaker.
"Authorities have reported a tragic incident earlier this morning in the Kitahana District. The victim, a seventeen-year-old girl, was found unresponsive in her home. Police suspect suicide, though details remain unclear—"
His hands shook.The phone slipped, clattering against the floor.
He whispered, almost to himself, "No… not her."
His eyes darted to the photo frame on the desk — three kids laughing in summer uniforms.Him.Kiro.And in the middle, smiling wider than both — Chiyo Ikari.
His breath hitched. His body refused to move.
He reached out a trembling hand toward the photo, but stopped halfway. His fingers hovered there, shaking, then curled into a fist.
"Why…" His voice broke. "Why her?"
The sound of the wind outside filled the room, brushing faintly against the windowpane.Somewhere in that soft howl, he could almost hear her voice — faint, fading — like a memory from another time.
"If one of us forgets… the others have to remember."
Taro's lips trembled. The world felt like it was collapsing quietly around him.He didn't cry. He couldn't. He just sat there, staring at the photo, the words echoing in his mind again and again.
Remember.
The clock ticked.The snowfall outside thickened.And as the screen of his phone dimmed to black, the reflection staring back at him smiled — just slightly, as if it knew what came next.