The right hand that had been clenched through the night was still slightly cool even after morning came. Thompkins Mira stared at that hand for a while. Inside the futon, she opened and closed her fingers. A lingering chill remained at her fingertips. The seashell was on the desk. Even as night gave way to day, it continued to emit a faint, pale blue light. Even with morning sunlight streaming through the window, its iridescent luster remained vibrant. (It was real.) That much was certain. Not a dream, not her imagination, not the illusion of tired eyes. That shadow existed. This seashell was not ordinary. Mira tried to organize her thoughts while changing clothes. She'd barely slept last night. The voice from her dream—a single word: protect—had echoed in the back of her ears the entire time, and every time she woke, she found herself thinking the same thing over and over. She'd reached no conclusion. But there was one thing she'd decided to do. Go to the beach again. And this time—test it. —— Shellside Beach in the morning had a different quality to its air. There were almost no tourists yet. A few surfers could be seen heading out, reading the offshore waves. The lingering dampness of night on the sand felt cool against her feet. The sound of waves crashed in regular rhythm, then receded. The Pacific morning stretched endlessly, quiet. Mira stood at the water's edge, a short distance from the driftwood rocks at the southern end—a strangely shaped boulder about four meters high. She gripped the seashell in her right hand. Immediately, her hand grew cold. Just holding the seashell caused her body temperature to drop. Whether this was what should be called "sea memory"—a sea memoria—Mira still didn't know. But last night, while thinking about what might be called Nereus's seashell, she'd sensed that this power had some connection to seawater. In fact, she'd only seen that shadow at the water's edge. If she moved away from the sea—wouldn't this coldness and this power weaken? Today, she would verify it properly. Mira slowly raised her empty left hand toward the waves. Something moved. The water surface at the edge of the waves began to slowly spiral. A small whirlpool. One about ten centimeters in diameter gradually drew water toward itself, building upward. She felt as though the water was being pulled toward her palm. (It's working...!) It took on a faintly spherical shape. A transparent sphere of water, palm-sized. Seawater floating in the air. ——It collapsed in three seconds. Splash! "Ah——" Water hit her face directly. Salty. Her eyes stung. Her hair stuck wetly to her cheek. Mira wiped her face with the back of her hand and took her stance again. One more time. The water surface spiraled. It began to form a sphere. ——It collapsed again. Splash! This time seawater soaked her chest. Her white blouse clung to her body. (Why does it collapse? It forms a sphere, but three seconds is the limit... Is it a matter of concentration? Or do I lack technique?) Mira attempted a third time. This time she tried to be more conscious of the water's flow, imagining it concentrating at the center. A sphere formed. Slightly larger than before. Five centimeters, eight centimeters, palm-sized—— ——The balance broke. The sphere flew sideways. With a whoosh, the mass of water cut through the air, flying about three meters to the side—— Plop. It hit squarely on the straw hat of an old man sitting on the sand. "W-what!?" The old man jumped up and turned around. His straw hat flew off and rolled across the sand. Mira quickly hid the seashell behind her back and smiled brightly. "[serious]Oh, I'm sorry, it's nothing! Just wave spray... it just happened to fly in a weird direction" The old man looked bewildered, picked up his hat, looked at Mira, then looked at the hat again. Then he muttered "strange ocean" and put the hat back on, sitting down again. Mira turned back toward the water's edge and let out a quiet sigh. (Three attempts, three failures. Face and clothes soaked, bothered a tourist. Zero results.) But as her hand grew cold, something inside her burned. It was almost working. The sphere was forming. The time before it collapsed seemed to be getting slightly longer each time. She was about to attempt a fourth time when—— "[sarcastic]I don't think that method's going to work" An unfamiliar voice came from behind. Casual, yet strangely composed. Mira turned around. Standing there was a male student. Slightly taller than her. Probably around 178 centimeters. Light silver hair waved gently, glinting in the morning light. A small silver piercing in his right ear. She'd seen his face a few times at school. Sun-tanned skin and golden eyes. He held a surfboard lightly under his arm, standing as if he'd been there all along. Hart Lucas. A popular surfer at Crestwood High. Seventeen years old, one year above her, with outstanding ability in the surfing club. She'd heard he worked part-time at the surf shop "Breakline" along Beach Street. She'd thought he seemed like a playboy, but—— His expression now was different. He wore a light smile, but his golden eyes were oddly sharp. It wasn't that he wasn't smiling—he was smiling while observing something, that kind of gaze. Mira kept the seashell hidden behind her back and tried to sound as natural as possible. "[serious]How long have you been watching?" "A little while" "[surprised]A little while...?" "Before the water flew" This was bad. He'd seen everything. Mira thought for a moment, then spoke as naturally as she could. "[serious]That was just... light reflecting off a tidal pool. And my hand was wet, so water just happened to splash, and the wind blew it at that old man's hat——" Lucas listened. He listened all the way through without interrupting. When her excuses ran out, silence fell. Only the sound of waves continued. Mira's excuses piled up on the sand, slowly crumbling. Lucas said just one thing. "[cold]Yeah, I thought so" ——He wasn't surprised. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't laughing. Just as if he'd confirmed something. "[surprised]...Yeah, you thought so? What do you mean?" "Let's go somewhere we can talk properly" Lucas said only that and gestured with his chin toward the inland side of the beach. Mira hesitated for one second, two seconds. Who was this person? Why wasn't he surprised? What did "yeah, I thought so" mean? She should probably be cautious. But—— Those golden eyes weren't suspicious. If anything, they seemed relieved. "[serious]...Okay" Mira began walking behind Lucas, still soaking wet from seawater. —— The café "Driftwood" was a three-minute walk from Shellside Beach. It was also a three-minute walk from Crestwood High, so it was a popular hangout for students their age after school. When the owner, Meg Chan—a former surfer who at thirty-five still had a sun-tanned face and an unguarded smile—saw the two of them enter, she called out from the counter. "[surprised]Lucas, you're not alone today. ...But that girl's soaking wet, is she okay?" "[sarcastic]I'm fine" "Want me to lend you a towel?" "[gentle]Please" After borrowing a towel and drying her hair, Mira sat at a window-side table. Lucas came back after leaning his surfboard against the wall outside and sat across from her. Meg set down two bowls of clam chowder. "It's supposed to be the specialty" "I know. I come here a lot" "I see" The conversation died. Steam rose from the clam chowder. Outside, tourists were beginning to walk around, and the morning beach was visible through the window. Mira held her spoon and looked at Lucas. Lucas was waiting too. It was a matter of who would speak first——but Mira couldn't let go of the phrase "yeah, I thought so," and she had to ask. "What did you mean by 'yeah, I thought so'?" Lucas took a sip of chowder before answering slowly. "You were holding a seashell. The way it glowed wasn't normal. And you were trying to do something with the sea. I thought I recognized it" "[surprised]Recognized it? From what?" Lucas didn't answer immediately. His golden eyes glanced toward the window—past the beach, toward the sea—before returning to Mira. "...I want to hear your story first" Mira thought for a moment. She still didn't know if she could trust him. But his reaction of "yeah, I thought so" wasn't mocking or denying. He hadn't been surprised. That meant this person had something. Something. Mira took a sip of chowder. It was warm, slightly creamy, with just the right amount of salt. Then she began to speak quietly. How she'd found a spiral seashell at the base of the driftwood rocks yesterday. How her hand had grown warm the moment she picked it up. How she'd seen a shadow in the sea—something black shaped like a jellyfish, but not a jellyfish, dozens of them drifting beneath the surface. How when she set the seashell down it disappeared, and when she held it again it reappeared. How last night she'd heard a low voice in a dream. The word "protect." How this morning she'd experimented and the water had moved. How it wasn't working perfectly, but something was definitely happening. Her right hand trembled slightly as she spoke. This was the first time she'd said any of this aloud. Everything she'd been carrying alone since yesterday was becoming words and pouring out. Lucas didn't interrupt. He listened all the way through. He didn't even touch his chowder, just listened. After Mira finished, there was a pause. "[serious]The shadow—you saw the jellyfish-shaped ones" "Yeah" "How big were they?" "About thirty centimeters in diameter. There were a lot of them" Lucas's expression changed. It became difficult, as if he was thinking about something, or confirming something—a complex expression. Then he fell quiet again. "[serious]I'll tell you my story" Mira listened. "Since I was little, I can feel changes in the tides with my body. The ebb and flow, the direction of currents, changes in water temperature... I can't explain it, but I just sense it somehow. Even though I'm not a fisherman. A lot of surfers understand things through intuition, so I always thought it was just like that" "But?" "Recently, that sense got suddenly much stronger. Especially... from that direction" Lucas gestured with his chin toward the direction of Fogreef Reef. The reef about three kilometers offshore from Shellside Beach. An area where fog rolled in easily and navigation was dangerous even for small boats—local fishermen called it "the cursed sea" and avoided it. "[serious]It feels bad. Like something's approaching. I can't explain it well" Mira's fingertips felt slightly colder. The voice from last night's dream seemed to echo in the back of her ears again. ——Protect. "When did that start?" "About two weeks ago" A quiet air flowed between them. Information seemed to click into place. Mira had found the seashell yesterday, but she'd been drawn to the driftwood rocks at the southern end of the beach "for some reason." Lucas had started feeling this "bad feeling" two weeks ago. Something was coming from the direction of Fogreef Reef. Scattered points were becoming a line. "Can I try something?" Lucas extended his hand. Palm up, waiting. Mira looked at that hand. Large, with prominent knuckles. A hand trained by surfing. Still holding the seashell in her right hand, Mira hesitated slightly. She didn't know if she should give it to him. But—— (This person knows something. Or is trying to know something. I feel like he's on the same side as me.) There was no basis for it. But she chose to trust that instinct. Mira gently placed the seashell in Lucas's palm. In that instant. Lucas's eyes——widened greatly. His golden pupils seemed to catch something, looking far away. Not out the window, not at the ceiling, but somewhere else entirely. It lasted less than half a second. Then they returned to normal immediately. Luc