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 - First day of the second semester, my childhood friend's smile and my racing heart
Light streaks past.
Touma turns. His face — smiling.
And then the world goes white—
Ichinose Taichi woke with his phone clutched in his hand.
His heart was pounding.
Morning.
Outside the window, cicadas were crying.
(That dream again.)
Taichi touched the back of his neck with his right hand. Damp with sweat.
On the pillow beside him, his phone still held an unanswered message.
"Ichinose-kun. Sorry to spring this on you. There's something I want to talk about. Could I have a little of your time tomorrow?"
A message from Kuze Futaba.
It had arrived last night. Taichi hadn't managed to write a reply. Morning came anyway.
(What does she want to talk about?)
Taichi closed the screen.
He could think about it later.
Right now, he had to get to school.
First day of second term.
He climbed that steep hill toward Aohama High.
Hell Hill.
That's what the students called it. Four hundred meters long.
Twelve percent at its steepest.
The summer morning sun baked the asphalt.
Taichi walked with his head slightly down.
His wavy black hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.
The navy blazer felt heavy.
Old houses lined both sides. In a small park, a swing swayed though there was no wind.
(Is Touma at school already?)
Mita Touma.
Taichi's childhood friend since elementary school.
Baseball team captain. A hundred and eighty-nine centimeters tall.
Bright. Loved by everyone.
The exact opposite of Taichi.
Back in elementary school, they were always together.
Then middle school came, and little by little, they drifted apart.
Taichi carried a deep inferiority complex toward Touma.
That was what widened the distance between them.
And yet, right now, Taichi's head was full of Touma.
(Touma is going to die.)
The image from the dream replayed in his mind.
Touma turns.
Smiles.
And light streaks past.
(It's an accident.)
Taichi felt something close to certainty. And terror.
(I have to protect him.)
No basis for it.
But he couldn't help thinking it.
At the top of the hill, Aohama High's gate came into view.
Aohama High.
A prefectural school on the high ground in the north of the city.
Fifty-eight years since its founding.
Two hundred forty students per grade. Seven hundred twenty in all.
The gate was crowded with students arriving for the first day of second term.
At the center of the crowd stood a tall boy who stood out from everyone else.
Mita Touma.
Short, neatly trimmed black hair.
Sun-darkened skin.
Bright brown eyes that curved into crescents when he smiled.
Baseball teammates and classmates clustered around him.
"Touma, how was your summer?"
"Training camp was brutal, but it was fun."
Touma laughed, slinging an arm around a younger teammate's shoulders.
On his left wrist, the usual baseball club wristband.
Taichi couldn't join that circle.
No — he wouldn't.
Like always, he tried to slip through the gate without being noticed.
Then it happened.
"Taichi!"
Touma's voice cut through the crowd.
Taichi's feet stopped.
Touma burst out of the group and ran toward him.
"Taichi! Long time no see — you doing okay?"
Touma's face was glowing with genuine happiness.
When he smiled, a dimple appeared on his right cheek.
(Ah. It's Touma.)
Something tightened deep in Taichi's chest.
"...Yeah. Long time."
Taichi's voice came out smaller than he expected.
Touma didn't seem to notice. He just kept beaming.
"What'd you do over summer break? I was pretty much all baseball."
"Nothing much... just the usual."
Taichi couldn't look Touma in the face.
(The dream comes back.)
Touma turns.
Smiles.
Light streaks past.
(This guy is going to die?)
Taichi found himself staring at Touma's body.
A hundred eighty-nine centimeters of trained muscle.
Skin tanned healthy from baseball.
No shadow of death anywhere on him.
(I still can't believe it.)
Taichi studied Touma's face, his chest, his arms — as if checking for something.
Touma looked puzzled.
"What's up? Something on my face?"
Touma patted his own cheeks.
"Huh... oh, no."
Taichi jerked his eyes away.
"It's nothing."
His heart was too loud.
(Did he notice?)
Touma tilted his head slightly, but the smile came right back.
"Okay. If you say so."
Touma gave Taichi's shoulder a light pat.
"See you in class, then."
With that, Touma headed back to his baseball friends.
Taichi watched him go.
(Touma.)
Taichi clenched his fist.
(I won't let you die. No matter what.)
A baseless resolve burned in his chest.
Taichi started toward the school building.
When he entered the classroom, several students were already there.
Taichi sat at his desk.
By the window. Second row from the back.
The classroom hummed with that peculiar buzz of the first day after summer break.
Taichi set his textbooks on the desk.
Then he felt eyes on him.
He looked up.
At the front of the classroom.
Kuze Futaba was facing his way.
Her chestnut hair was in a loose braid.
A few strands had slipped free.
Her large, pale-brown eyes wavered with unease.
The moment their eyes met, Futaba hurriedly looked down.
(Kuze-san.)
Taichi remembered last night's message.
"There's something I want to talk about."
(What could she want?)
Taichi had no idea.
He was in the same class as Futaba, but they'd barely ever spoken.
Futaba was the shy type — always reading a book in the corner of the classroom.
She was in the gardening club. He often saw her tending flowers in the greenhouse behind the school building.
Once during summer break, Taichi had spotted her there.
(I didn't say anything to her then, though.)
Taichi watched her for a moment, then turned his gaze out the window.
(No point thinking about it.)
He thought about Touma instead.
(Touma's probably laughing in his own classroom right now.)
Touma was in Class A too — same as Taichi.
But Touma always had people around him.
Taichi felt like he could hear Touma's bright laughter somewhere in the classroom.
Lunch break.
Taichi ate the bread and milk he'd bought at the school store, sitting at his desk.
He was used to eating alone by now.
Around the classroom, students ate in their groups.
Taichi sat outside those circles, quietly chewing his bread.
Then it happened.
"Taichi!"
Touma's voice came from the classroom doorway.
Taichi looked up. Touma stood at the entrance, waving.
Touma ran over to Taichi's desk.
"Yo. Eating alone?"
"...It's nothing."
Taichi set his bread down on the desk.
Touma pulled over the chair from the desk in front of Taichi's and sat down without asking.
"Let's walk home together today."
Touma said it with a grin.
"Baseball team's off today. Let's actually talk for once — it's been a while."
Taichi looked at Touma's smile.
(Walk home together.)
This was the perfect chance to probe the future of Touma's death.
If he stayed close to Touma, maybe he'd learn something.
(But.)
Taichi remembered Futaba's message.
(I need to reply to Kuze-san.)
Besides, in his current state, walking home alone with Touma would be too much.
(Looking at Touma's face just brings back the dream.)
After a long hesitation, Taichi gave a small shake of his head.
"...I've got something to do today."
Touma's smile clouded for just a moment.
"Oh. Right."
Touma looked a little surprised.
"What kind of thing? You okay?"
"Yeah... I've got plans to meet someone."
Taichi lied.
Technically, he hadn't agreed to meet anyone yet.
But if he replied to Futaba, that would probably become true.
Touma studied Taichi's face for a while.
Then the usual smile returned.
"Got it. Next time, then."
Touma gave Taichi's shoulder a pat and stood up.
"See you."
With that, Touma left the classroom.
Taichi watched him go.
(Touma.)
Regret and impatience churned in his chest.
(The truth is, I want to walk home with him.)
(But not now. I can't.)
(When I'm near Touma, I can't stop thinking about the dream.)
Taichi forced the half-eaten bread into his mouth.
It had no taste.
After school.
Taichi was packing up at his desk.
As he shoved textbooks into his bag, a voice came from the hallway.
"Taichi."
Taichi turned. Touma stood in the doorway.
His expression was serious now — nothing like before.
Touma walked up to Taichi and spoke in a low voice.
"What's going on with you lately? Something's off."
Taichi's heart jumped.
"W-what do you mean?"
"You've been staring at me since this morning. And you turned down walking home."
Touma looked Taichi straight in the eye.
"You're hiding something. Aren't you."
Taichi's words caught in his throat.
(Tell him about the dream?)
(That I dreamed you die?)
(He'd never believe me.)
(And I don't want to worry him.)
Taichi touched the back of his neck.
"It's nothing... I'm just busy."
Taichi looked away from Touma.
Touma kept watching him for a while.
Taichi couldn't bear the gaze. He looked down.
A long silence stretched between them.
Finally, Touma let out a small sigh.
"...Okay. If you say so."
Touma's voice sounded a little lonely.
"But if something's wrong, tell me. If it's me, I'll listen."
With that, Touma walked away.
Taichi stood frozen in place.
(Touma.)
(Why are you so kind?)
(I'm lying to you.)
Taichi's chest ached.
Back in the classroom, Taichi sank into his seat.
Touma's words echoed in his head.
"If something's wrong, tell me."
(Like I could.)
(That I dreamed you die.)
Taichi slumped onto his desk.
Then his phone buzzed in his bag.
He lifted his head slowly and pulled it out.
He looked at the screen.
A second message from Kuze Futaba.
"Ichinose-kun. Please come to the greenhouse behind the school building after class today. There's something I want to talk about."
Taichi stared at the words.
(The greenhouse.)
(That greenhouse behind the school building.)
He remembered Futaba's profile from that day during summer break.
(What does Kuze-san want to talk about?)
Taichi hesitated over his reply.
(Do I even have the right to hear someone else's problems?)
(When I'm lying to Touma?)
But he knew that staying in the classroom would only mean thinking about Touma.
(I'll go to the greenhouse. Like running away.)
Taichi typed a reply.
"Got it. I'm on my way."
He pressed send.
Taichi grabbed his bag and stood.
He left the classroom and walked down the hall.
He changed shoes at the shoe lockers and stepped outside.
The evening air was lukewarm.
Taichi circled around to the back of the school building.
The greenhouse behind the school.
The gardening club's base — a glass-walled building, eight meters by twelve.
Thirty years old. A weathered greenhouse.
Bathed in the setting sun, the glass glowed faintly.
Taichi stopped in front of it.
He peered through the glass.
Two figures.
Taichi took a small breath and opened the greenhouse door.
The old hinges creaked.
Inside, the heat was stifling. A unique mix of soil and plant scents hung in the air.
As Taichi stepped in, the two girls looked at him.
One was Kuze Futaba.
Head down, both hands clenched tight.
She had a habit of lacing her fingers together.
Her palms were covered in small bandages.
Probably from the thorns of the plants she tended.
The other girl stood slightly behind Futaba, arms crossed.
A short black bob.
Sharp black eyes fixed on Taichi.
A small silver earring in one ear.
Itachi Masumi, from the track team.
Futaba's best friend.
Taichi had barely ever spoken to Masumi.
Masumi furrowed her brow when she saw him.
Taichi stood before the two of them.
"...Hey."
Taichi spoke quietly.
Futaba flinched, then raised her head.
Her large pale-brown eyes looked wet with tears.
"Um... thank you for coming."
Futaba's voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz.
Taichi touched the back of his neck.
"So, what did you want to talk about?"
Futaba looked down and unlaced her fingers.
Then, as if gathering all her courage, she lifted her head.
She looked Taichi straight in the eye.
"I... I want to get closer to Mita Touma-kun."
Taichi caught his breath.
(Touma?)
(Kuze-san?)
Futab
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