I ran beneath the cherry blossoms in the small garden Dad had always loved. Pink petals brushed my face as my heart thundered in my chest.

Spring had always been my favorite season.
A symbol of rebirth.
Even after illness had taken Mom two years ago, life had been forced to move forward.

The station came into view.
Two hundred meters left.
The train was already arriving.

Not today.

With a desperate burst of energy, I sprinted up the stairs and slipped through the doors just before they closed.

Mission accomplished.

Inside the carriage, still breathless, I lifted my gaze—

And a chill slid down my spine.

Without thinking, I turned to the right.

The world seemed to pause.

A warm, inexplicable sensation curled around my chest. It wasn’t love—not yet—but something quieter, deeper. A feeling of safety. Of inevitability. As if the future itself were holding its breath.

There was a boy.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Wearing the final-year uniform of my school. A phone rested loosely in his hand, earbuds trailing like threads of silence. From his ears hung golden Mizuhiki earrings adorned with red beads, flickering like tiny tongues of flame.

But it was his eyes that held me captive.

Feline. Piercing. Red as burning embers.

For a moment, it felt like he could see straight through me—past my thoughts, past my fears, past the version of myself I showed the world.

I wasn’t just looking at a boy.

I was staring at a mystery.

And as our gazes locked, a single thought crossed my mind, sharp as a premonition:

Perhaps the line between dream and reality had never been so thin.