In the dream, I was flying through the sky. No, that's not quite right. I wasn't flying—I was gripping something black and long, running toward a monster. I couldn't see the monster's face. But it was huge. Incredibly huge, and I was sprinting toward it at full speed, shouting something— "[angry]Ichigo! You're going to be late!" The voice shattered the world. When I opened my eyes, there was a ceiling. The same wood grain. The same crack. The second floor of the Kurosaki house. My room. Kurosaki Ichigo, seventeen years old. Second year, Class 3 at Nijinohama High School. I kept my orange head pressed against the pillow for a while, unable to move. The sensation from the dream still lingered in my palm. The feeling of gripping something tightly. The sensation of something hot running through my body. But I couldn't remember what I'd been holding anymore. "[angry]Are you awake!? It's 7:30!?" "[surprised]…Yeah, I'm getting up." I pushed myself out of bed. My 181-centimeter frame creaked. Looking in the mirror, the usual face stared back. Vivid orange short hair, amber eyes, refined features—not that I should be saying this about myself, but people mention it all the time. At school they say stuff like "Kurosaki's got a decent face at least." The "at least" part bothers me though. I changed into my uniform. Navy blazer, gray checkered slacks, maroon tie. I always tie the tie carelessly. Downstairs, the morning smells were already there. Miso soup and toast. My sisters Yuzu and Karin were sitting at the table. Yuzu glanced at me, her ponytail swaying. The eldest of the Kurosaki daughters, three years younger than me. She had a round, gentle face, but mornings made her incredibly strict. "[serious]Make sure you eat properly. Today's the start of the new school year in April." "[sarcastic]Big brother's got that dreamy look again." Karin said it while chewing her bread. She had short hair and sharp eyes. The youngest of the three sisters, but the most realistic—she could see right through me most of the time. "[sarcastic]Everyone has dreams." "[sarcastic]What kind of dream?" "[serious]…I don't remember." It wasn't a lie. I really didn't remember. But even though I didn't remember, my body knew that sensation. It felt strangely unsettling. I shoved a piece of toast in my mouth and grabbed my bag. "[gentle]I'm heading out." "[excited]Have a good day!" "[sarcastic]Be careful, warrior." I decided to ignore that last comment. 　＊ April in Nijinohama had unusually clear air. I passed through the residential streets of Nijinohama, descended the slope, and came out onto the path along Haruka River. The river wasn't wide, but the water was crystal clear, and this season had cherry blossom trees lining both banks. About 800 meters of cherry blossoms. A minor attraction of Nijinohama City, apparently. I walked this route every morning. But today, something felt off. The scenery was the same. The river, the cherry blossoms, the grass on the embankment, the Sagami Bay visible in the distance. Everything as usual. But somehow—thin. That's what it felt like. Thin? I didn't even understand what I meant. But no other word came to mind. It was like someone had carefully printed a photograph of the landscape and pasted it there. It was definitely there, but it didn't feel real. A single cherry blossom petal fell onto the river's surface. Only that felt real, I thought. Only that small movement. （…Maybe I'm just sleep-deprived.） I came to that conclusion and started walking again. Thinking about it too much would drive me crazy. 　＊ Nijinohama High School sat halfway up a hill. The school building stood on the slope with a view of the sea, built there almost forcefully. A four-story main building and a special classroom wing. A prefectural high school founded 32 years ago. About 720 students. Nothing particularly famous about it, nothing particularly problematic—just an ordinary high school. My class was on the third floor, east end. Year 2, Class 3. When I entered the classroom, classmates were buzzing around as usual. My seat was by the window, second from the back. On clear days like today, you could see Sagami Bay from the ocean-side window. But there was one thing that caught my attention. The seat next to mine was empty. Last year and the year before, someone had sat there. But today there was just a chair. Nothing on the desk. （Maybe a transfer student is coming.） That was all I thought before turning my gaze out the window. Class started. The teacher began talking. I took notes. That was it. The empty seat next to me was quickly pushed to the back of my mind. 　＊ When lunch break came, I went up to the roof. This was my favorite place. You could see Sagami Bay over the fence. Three benches. On clear days like this, the wind felt nice. Not many people came here. That was the best part. I didn't hate talking to classmates, but I wanted to be alone for these thirty minutes at lunch. I opened my bento. The one Yuzu had packed. Rolled egg, cherry tomatoes, fried chicken. Normal. Thankfully normal. I ate while looking at the sea. Seagulls flying in the distance. Waves glinting in the light. …Suddenly, I remembered my mother. I didn't know why. I didn't remember her every time I saw the sea. But today, for some reason, it hit me head-on. My mother died when I was nine. Not from illness—an accident. After that, my father at Kurosaki Medical Clinic raised us with single-minded determination. Yuzu, Karin, and me. From around that time, I'd always thought: "I have to protect them." My sisters. My father. Anyone I'd meet after that. If someone was about to get hurt, I'd step in first. It became second nature. But— I was thinking about today's dream again. In the dream, I was trying to protect something. That much was certain. But it didn't feel like my sisters. Didn't feel like my father. Something much bigger. Someone whose name I didn't know. Something whose form I couldn't see. "I want to protect someone." That impulse alone seemed to have been cut out from the dream and fallen here. （What was I trying to protect?） I put the rolled egg in my mouth. It was delicious. Yuzu's rolled eggs always were. That, at least, was completely real. 　＊ After school. I was heading out through the school gate. The usual route home. A few utility poles in a row, then the slope continuing beyond. About twelve minutes' walk to Nijinohama Station. Down the slope and I'd reach the Haruka River path. I was adjusting my bag strap and about to start walking when— I stopped. In the shadow of a utility pole, a little further ahead. The color was different there. A gray haze. The air seemed slightly clouded in just that spot. Not smoke. Not fog. It was like the world was thinning out only there. Similar to what I'd felt at Haruka River this morning. But this time it was clearer. I stared at it for about two seconds. Then I blinked, and it was gone. "…What?" The word escaped involuntarily. But the other students around me didn't seem to notice anything. No one was looking in that direction. They were walking out the gate, laughing. A normal after-school scene. Only I was standing still. （Must be an optical illusion.） That's what I thought. That's what I tried to think. But the unease in my chest didn't fade. Not while I was descending the slope, not while I was walking past Haruka River, not while I passed in front of the convenience store "Suncross." When the clerk Morita called out "Oh, Kurosaki!" my response was delayed. 　＊ That night, lying in bed, I stared at the ceiling. I tried to organize the day in my head. This morning, a strange dream. That thin feeling at Haruka River. And that gray haze after school. All of it would probably end with "Isn't it just your imagination?" if I tried to explain it to someone. Maybe that was actually the case. Sleep deprivation, senses going haywire. Maybe that was it. But. Something kept catching in the corner of my mind. "What was that?" And something else. "What am I…?" I felt a little embarrassed saying it to myself in bed. Not something a seventeen-year-old high school student should be thinking about. But I couldn't stop. That impulse I'd felt in the dream. That incredibly strong sensation of wanting to protect someone. I somehow knew that existed inside me. But I had no idea what it was directed toward. （Well, whatever. I'll think about it tomorrow.） I closed my eyes. But in bed, I clenched my right fist. Like I was trying to confirm that sensation of gripping something one more time. 　＊ The next morning. "[gentle]Morning." I entered the classroom and sat in my usual seat. I hung my bag beside the desk and looked out the window. Clear again today. Sagami Bay glinting in the light. And then I noticed. Someone was sitting in the seat next to mine. The seat that had been empty yesterday now had someone in it. I turned to look. A small girl was sitting there. She was short. Probably only came up to my shoulder. Her black hair was straight and cut neatly at ear level. The uniform was the same navy blazer, but it looked completely different on her. There was something quiet about her, something calm. Her posture was perfectly straight. A white rabbit plushie sat on her lap. The girl had a notebook open and was reading something. She must have noticed my gaze because she slowly looked up. Our eyes met. Her eyes were black and deep. She didn't look surprised. Didn't look flustered. Just quietly looking at me. For a moment, neither of us said anything. The girl narrowed her eyes slightly. Like she was confirming something. Like she knew who I was. But she said nothing. She turned her gaze back to her notebook. I also turned forward for some reason. （…Who is that girl?） Thinking that, I looked out the window. Under the clear sky, Sagami Bay sparkled. Nijinohama in April was strangely beautiful. But in my chest, the unease from yesterday continued. I still hadn't made sense of that gray haze, or the sensation from the dream. And for some reason, I couldn't stop thinking about the girl in the seat next to me.