A dream that ends in light. A friend who always walks ahead. And a message that changes everything.
Ichinose Taichi has had the same dream three times now—Touma turning back to smile at him on the road to school, then a blinding flash, then nothing. He tells himself it's just a dream. But when a message from his quiet classmate Kuze Futaba arrives out of nowhere, asking to talk, Taichi feels it: something is about to change.
In a fading seaside town where the shipyard closed and the young peop
Blue Flag: To Change the Lost Future - The third dream, and the message that arrived
Light streaks past.
Touma turns around. His face — he's smiling.
And then the world goes white—
Ichinose Taichi woke to the sound of his own heart.
Thudding. Loud. His throat was dry. His palms were slick with sweat.
(Again.)
He stared at the ceiling. Still dark. Just a faint hint of morning seeping through the gap in the curtains.
Taichi touched the back of his neck with his right hand. Wet with sweat. It was a habit. Whenever he was deep in thought, he always touched it there.
He remembered the dream clearly.
Touma was there.
Some road. Probably that route to school.
Touma walking ahead, turning back to look at him.
Opening his mouth to say something.
And in that instant — a blinding light cutting in from the edge of his vision.
—That's where it always ended.
The third time. The third time he'd had the same dream.
Three times, at the end of summer break.
Taichi sat up and grabbed his phone from beside the pillow. The screen was blinding. 5:47 AM.
Outside was already bright. The cicadas had started up. Another scorcher today, by the looks of it.
(It's just a dream.)
He wanted to believe that. But his heart still wouldn't settle.
Taichi sat on the edge of the bed, unable to move for a while.
He looked around the room.
A cramped six-tatami space. A bookshelf against the wall. On the desk, his summer homework sat in a nearly untouched pile.
He opened the window and damp air rushed in. A car somewhere in the distance. Birds nearby.
Aohama City.
The town Taichi had lived in his entire life.
A regional city of two hundred eighty thousand, wedged between the sea and the mountains.
It had once thrived on fishing and shipbuilding. Now all that remained was an old shopping district on the far side of the station.
Twelve years since the shipyard closed. The town had grown quieter, bit by bit, and the young people had drifted away.
Taichi's house was about ten minutes on foot from Aohama High.
A two-story house in a corner of an old residential neighborhood.
From the window, he could see the green of Mt. Tōmi.
Taichi stood and headed to the bathroom.
He met his own eyes in the mirror.
Curly black hair. His bangs hung just past his eyes.
Droopy eyes, deep brown.
A hundred seventy-two centimeters tall. Slim, but his shoulders had filled out a little lately.
A small old scar above his left eyebrow.
He'd gotten it falling when he was in elementary school.
Exploring Mt. Tōmi with Touma.
Taichi washed his face. The cold water rinsed away the lingering feel of the dream.
(It's a dream. Just a dream.)
But three times was a lot.
Taichi went downstairs.
His mother was already fixing breakfast.
"Morning. You're up early."
"...Yeah. Just woke up on my own."
Taichi sat at the table and took a sip of miso soup.
Warm. Something deep in his body settled, just a little.
The TV was running summer vacation news.
Aohama City stories were always the same.
More empty storefronts in the station-front shopping district.
The old shipyard site redevelopment that still hadn't started.
Taichi ate his rice, watching the TV without really seeing it.
Today was the last weekday of summer break.
He had errands at school.
A morning-only attendance day, to prep for the second term.
Taichi changed into his uniform.
Navy blazer. He always wore his tie a little loose.
He straightened his bangs in the mirror.
(Might see Touma today.)
The thought landed, and something in his chest went heavy.
Mita Touma.
Taichi's childhood friend, going all the way back to elementary school.
Third-year at Aohama High. Captain of the baseball team.
A hundred eighty-nine centimeters tall. Absurdly athletic.
Bright, funny, liked by everyone.
The exact opposite of Taichi.
Back in elementary school, they were always together.
Side by side, exploring Mt. Tōmi, fishing at the harbor.
Touma always walked in front, and Taichi chased from behind.
But once middle school started, they drifted apart, bit by bit.
Touma joined the baseball team and kept racking up wins.
Taichi just couldn't connect with people.
In high school, they weren't even in the same class.
Touma was in Class A, general studies. Taichi was in A too.
—No, wait.
Taichi shook his head.
Touma's in A. I'm in A.
Same class.
And yet the distance was vast.
Touma always had people around him.
Baseball teammates. Class friends. Underclassmen.
Taichi stood outside that circle.
But sometimes, Touma would still call out to him.
"Taichi, let's walk home together today."
That smile.
Open. Uncomplicated. Straight-on.
It was dazzling.
And it stung, a little.
Taichi sighed as he put on his shoes at the door.
(I can't be Touma.)
He'd thought it a thousand times.
Outside, the morning sun was fierce.
Taichi narrowed his eyes and started up the slope toward Aohama High.
Hell Slope.
That's what the students called it — a brutal climb.
Four hundred meters of hill, running from the station up to the school.
Twelve percent grade at its steepest.
Summer made it worse.
Taichi climbed slowly.
Old houses lined both sides.
There was a small park, too.
A swing swayed slightly, though there was no wind.
Taichi walked, thinking about the dream.
Touma turns around.
Light streaks past.
Was it an accident?
Or something else?
(Don't think about it.)
Taichi touched the back of his neck.
(It's a dream. Just a dream.)
But somewhere in his heart, he felt it wasn't.
The same dream, three times.
And Touma was in it.
To Taichi, Touma was special.
Someone he felt inferior to. Someone he admired.
And someone he couldn't bear to lose.
(Lose?)
Taichi stopped walking.
(What am I even thinking?)
Touma dying.
That couldn't happen.
Taichi started walking again.
At the top of the slope, the Aohama High building came into view.
Aohama High.
A prefectural school on the high ground in the north of the city.
Founded fifty-eight years ago.
Two hundred forty students per grade, seven hundred twenty total.
Not quite a top-tier prep school — a solid mid-tier.
He passed through the gate, and the baseball team's shouts drifted over from the field.
"—YEAH!"
Taichi headed for the building, careful not to react to the noise.
It was still summer break, so the halls were nearly empty.
The classroom was air-conditioned.
He sat at his desk.
Outside the window, the baseball team was practicing.
Touma was among them.
That towering frame.
Giving orders as captain.
Taichi watched him, motionless.
(Touma.)
The image from the dream overlapped.
Touma turns around.
Smiles.
Light streaks past.
Taichi clenched his fist.
(I have to protect him.)
No basis for it.
But that's what he felt.
He finished the morning prep and left the school.
On the way home, he passed behind the school building.
There was a greenhouse there.
The gardening club's base.
Glass-walled. Eight meters by twelve.
Thirty years old, and showing it.
In the summer evening light, the glass glowed dully.
Taichi sensed someone inside.
(Gardening club, huh.)
Not a place that had anything to do with him.
He was about to walk past.
But for a moment, he looked in.
Someone was tending the flowers inside.
A girl with chestnut hair in a loose braid.
Stray strands stuck to her cheek with sweat.
Kuze Futaba.
A girl from his class.
Taichi had barely ever spoken to her.
Futaba was caring for the flowers with a serious expression.
Taichi watched her profile for just a moment,
then quickly walked away.
Back home, Taichi opened his homework in his room.
But he couldn't focus.
The dream.
Touma.
His thoughts spun in circles.
He ate dinner. Took a bath.
Night.
Taichi sat at his desk, prepping for the second term.
Checking textbooks, setting up fresh notebooks.
Then his phone buzzed on the desk.
He stopped and looked at the screen.
One message.
From Kuze Futaba.
Taichi held his breath.
His fingers wouldn't move.
(From Kuze?)
Same class, but he didn't remember ever exchanging contacts.
Where did she get it?
Taichi opened the message, nervous.
"Sorry to message you out of nowhere, Ichinose. There's something I want to talk to you about. Could I have a little of your time tomorrow?"
Taichi stared at the words.
Talk.
Kuze Futaba. To me.
Why.
Taichi's fingers hovered over the reply, frozen.
The screen's glow lit his face in the dark room.
Outside, the insects were singing.
(About what?)
Taichi touched the back of his neck.
His heart was still a little fast.
Was it the morning's dream?
Or this sudden message?
Taichi set the phone down.
He couldn't reply yet.
But somehow, he felt this message was the start of something.
The first step toward protecting Touma.
Taichi looked out the window.
In the distance, the dark shape of Mt. Tōmi.
Above it, a single star was shining.
Taichi picked up his phone again.
And slowly began to type.
"Tomorrow works. Where should we talk?"
He pressed send.
His fingertips were trembling, just slightly.
This would change something.
Somehow, Taichi felt sure of it.
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