Beeeep.
The alarm clock screamed like it hated the idea of mornings as much as he did.
The early Tokyo wind slipped through the half-open window, carrying the hum of trains, the buzz of cars, and the faint chatter of birds greeting the dawn. The city was alive but to Yuto Manabe, it all looked dead.
A seventeen-year-old high schooler with tired eyes, Yuto lay still, staring at the ceiling.
"Tch… another glorious day of black and white," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.
To him, the world had lost its color long ago drained away, like paint washed off by endless rain.
He tried to roll out of bed with his "Chinese get-up" routine. Predictably, he failed.
"Guh... ow! Damn it!" he hissed, clutching his back.
So much for a cool start.
He dragged himself through his usual routine shower, toothbrush, uniform, bag. Everything in perfect order, perfectly dull. His life ran on rails he never asked for, a loop that reset every morning.
Downstairs, his parents were arguing again. Not yelling just exchanging words soaked in quiet bitterness. The kind of fight that cut deeper than shouting. Yuto barely reacted. He'd heard it all before. Their love, once bright, had burned out and the ashes had stolen his world's color when he was still a kid.
Once upon a time, he'd dreamed of drawing manga of creating vibrant worlds that shone brighter than real life.
Now, all he saw were gray panels and lifeless ink.
He forced a smile. "Otosan, Okasan… ittekimasu."
But his words vanished into the noise of their cold argument.
Outside, Tokyo's morning swallowed him whole.
Same streets. Same air. Same everything.
He stopped by the old steamed-bun shop the owner smiled, as always, and gave him a discount. The food was warm, but it never felt warm anymore.
Nothing did.
By the time he reached the bridge that crossed the river toward his school, the wind had changed. It was colder. Sharper. The world itself seemed to be holding its breath.
Then he saw her.
A girl stood at the railing motionless, her hair whipping wildly in the wind. The morning sun caught her outline, silver against gray. But to Yuto's colorless eyes, even the light seemed dull.
She leaned forward.
"Hey!" Yuto shouted before thinking.
She didn't turn. Her fingers tightened on the railing.
And then she stepped forward.
"Wait!"
His bag hit the ground as his legs moved on instinct. His heart roared louder than the wind as he sprinted. The bridge echoed with his footsteps, the world narrowing to that single moment her slipping heel, her hair fluttering in the air, the silence before the fall.
Time cracked.
He lunged, arms outstretched and caught her wrist.
The sudden pull nearly dragged him over too.
"Got you!" he gasped, muscles trembling, every nerve screaming.
For one terrifying heartbeat, they dangled over the edge her breath sharp and shaking, the gray river swirling below. Then, with a desperate pull, he hauled her back over. They collapsed onto the pavement, both gasping.
The only sound left was the pounding of their hearts.
The girl trembled, silent, before whispering,
"…Why did you save me? I didn't ask for it."
Her voice was cold. Empty.
And then she stood, brushed off her skirt, and walked away without another word her silhouette fading into the morning mist.
Yuto sat there for a long while, staring at the railing.
"That girl…" he murmured.
The river below flowed on gray, endless, indifferent.
.....
The classroom buzzed with the usual chaos. Yuto sat by the window, chin in his hand, eyes lost in the colorless sky.
"A world without color, huh? Maybe it means something," he muttered.
"Yo, Yuto!"
Aizen slapped his back as Denji and Cid joined in.
"You didn't tell us you were a hero!"
"Caught a girl mid-fall, huh? That's rom-com protagonist energy!"
Yuto sighed, half smiling. "Yeah, yeah. Don't start writing a fanfic yet."
Their laughter ended when Miss Akane entered.
"Alright everyone, take your seats! Oh.. almost forgot. We have a transfer student today!"
The class buzzed with curiosity. The door creaked open.
A girl stepped in. Pale, distant eyes. Tired expression. She picked up a piece of chalk and wrote:
Takamine Mika.
She turned to the class and said softly,
"Watashi wa Takamine Mika. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu."
(I'm Takamine Mika. Nice to meet you.)
The room fell silent.
Yuto looked up and froze.
Those eyes… that voice…
It was her.
For a heartbeat, the world flashed.
Color faint, fragile shimmered across his vision. Then vanished again.
Miss Akane smiled. "Takamine, you'll be sitting beside Yuto."
Mika walked down the aisle, quiet and deliberate. She sat beside him, her voice flat.
"Nice to meet you… again. You were half-dead this morning."
Yuto blinked. "W-wait.. you.."
She ignored him and pulled out a small notebook.
On the cover, in neat handwriting: 'Many Ways to Die.'
Yuto stared as she drew a line through one of the entries: Jump off a bridge.
"…What kind of book is that?" he muttered.
Without looking up, Mika said,
"How long do you plan to stare?"
Again, color flickered in his sight faint, like the last spark of a dying flame.
And then it was gone.
By the time homeroom ended, she had vanished from the classroom.
Yuto spotted her walking toward the bridge again and ran after her.
"Mika, wait!"
She turned, wind blowing through her hair. "What do you want?"
"Why… why would you do that?" he asked, out of breath.
She looked at him quietly.
"If you don't have anything to say, let me be. I have a mission to complete."
"A mission?"
She met his gaze, eyes empty.
"Mission to die."
His blood ran cold.
"Why? What could make you..."
"You don't know me," she snapped. "Don't act like you do."
"I know what it feels like!" Yuto shouted. "To want to disappear… I've been there! And ever since then, my world it's lost all its color."
Her eyes softened.
"You can't see color…?"
"Not a single one."
She sighed, her voice gentler now.
"The world you see in black and white that's what I am inside.
The only difference is, you can't see colors…
and I still can. For now."
She turned away, walking off into the gray mist.
Yuto stood there, stunned.
"Mission to die, huh…" he whispered.
The river below kept flowing silent, cold, and gray.