— Chapter 1 —
Today was supposed to be a new beginning for the students of Seiryō High School.
But for me, that "new beginning" arrived alongside the roar of voices echoing through the gymnasium.
The noise spilling out from Seiryō High's gymnasium reverberated through every corner of the building. Cheers and shouts loud enough to hurt your ears. The excitement of the new students was, honestly, a little too much for me to handle. I looked for somewhere — anywhere — to escape the chaos, even just for a moment.
I headed toward the storage shed behind the school building.
Down the hallway, down the stairs, around to the back of the building. The cheering from the gymnasium grew fainter with every step. The air outside was a little cold. Cherry blossom petals drifted to the ground, carried by the wind. Even though it was still April, the back of the school building was wrapped in quiet.
I pushed open the shed door — and the smell of dust hit me.
Old wood and rusted metal, mixed together. A single fluorescent light flickered weakly overhead. In its dim glow, rows of dust-covered trophies stood in silence. I wiped one of them lightly with my sleeve — and letters emerged.
Ishikawa Prefecture Tournament — First Place — Kendo Club
I touched the golden trophy softly with my fingertips. Imagining the seniors who had once fought for this — a faint tremor seemed to pass through my whole body. I thought, simply and sincerely: that's amazing. Maybe this was the school's era of glory.
[What are you doing here?]
A familiar voice came from behind me. Not a voice produced by a human mouth. The sudden sound made my body jolt on instinct. I turned around — and there she was. The girl I had met yesterday in front of the acceptance board.
"Don't scare me like that. I thought my heart stopped," I said, pressing a hand to my chest.
She didn't answer. She only stared at the golden trophy in my hands. Then, without a word, she walked over and plucked it right out of my grip. I stood there, dumbfounded. I figured she had her reasons — but still.
[How rude. To touch this trophy with those dirty hands of yours, in the presence of the soul that dwells within it]
The phone's voice cut through the silence of the dim shed. I looked at her face. Her cheeks were faintly red. Her mouth was pressed into a firm line, not a trace of a smile. Her brows were slightly raised — whether she was angry or not, I couldn't tell from that toneless voice. It carried none of the inflection a human voice would.
"Hey, I was just trying to show some resp—"
But she didn't wait for me to finish. She gently placed the trophy back on the shelf and rearranged each one with careful precision. As though greeting old friends. Her profile glowed quietly in the dim light of the shed. Her hands moved tenderly over the dust-covered trophies, as if handling something precious.
I watched her profile for a little while.
I couldn't say anything.
Dong—… Dong—… Dong—…
The bell rang. Its sound swept through the entire building, momentarily swallowing the noise of the crowd.
Just as I hurried to head to the classroom — she stepped in front of me. She pressed the golden trophy gently into my arms — and ran off.
"Hey, wait! I'm not the caretaker here!"
I called after her. Too late.
Left with no choice, I carefully placed the trophy back beside the others. I checked one last time to make sure no dust remained — then, with a faint trace of panic, ran to class.
I sprinted down the hallway. The sound of my indoor shoes slapping the floor echoed through the deserted corridor. With every corner I turned, the gymnasium's cheering grew more distant. My breath ran short. The classroom door came into sight.
I stopped in front of it.
On the other side of the door, the teacher was already standing inside.
Her gaze came straight toward me. For a new student, that was more than enough pressure. I swallowed, wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand — and forced an awkward smile.
The teacher pushed her glasses down and looked at me. Then she smiled, softly.
"Come in. Class is about to begin."
"Ah — yes. Thank you very much, Sensei."
I bowed and stepped inside.
The air inside was nothing like the chaos outside. I swept my gaze around the room, taking in my classmates' faces.
Close to thirty of them, maybe. Everyone looked a little tense — yet still, some were whispering to the person beside them, or scrolling through their phones. That particular atmosphere that only exists on the first day of high school. The smell of new uniforms. Someone's shampoo drifting faintly through the air. The sound of birds coming from outside the window.
And then — I spotted a familiar face.
That's her, I thought. The girl who might not have a voice.
She glanced at me briefly. Her brow lifted slightly — the way you'd acknowledge recognizing someone, nothing more — and she looked back down. She seemed completely unbothered. I made my way to an open seat in the middle of the room and sat down.
"Alright, new students. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ichinose Ren. Please call me Ichinose-sensei. Starting today, I'll be your homeroom teacher. It's a pleasure to meet you all!"
"It's a pleasure to meet you!"
Our voices returned in unison.
"Before we begin, I'd like each of you to introduce yourselves. Please come up to the front, one at a time."
One by one, students began making their way to the podium. I wasn't really listening — just clicking my pen against the desk. Click. Click.
I glanced at the seat next to mine. The person there was completely absorbed in a novel. I spoke up.
"Hey. You're pretty into that book. You're not going to introduce yourself to anyone?"
No response. No attempt to close the book or look my way. A complete and total ignore. I decided to mentally label him: Novel Maniac Classmate.
I turned my eyes back to the front. The introductions continued.
Eventually — a familiar figure stood up.
The room began to stir.
"Hey, isn't that the girl? The one from middle school? I heard she can't speak — she uses her phone to talk."
My hand tightened around the edge of the desk. For a moment I thought about hurling it — but that would only destroy my own future. I let it go.
She took out her phone.
[Nice to meet you. My name is Asami Misaki. I hope you'll allow me to speak through my phone.]
A brief pause, then the voice continued.
[I look forward to getting to know everyone.]
A flat, emotionless voice. But she — was smiling at the whole class. Giving a small wave.
I stood up.
"Nice to meet you! Looking forward to it!"
I said it with everything I had. So it would reach her. So the whole class could hear it. Then I sat back down.
She looked at me.
Something pure lived in the depths of those eyes. Like a breeze blowing in from outside, brushing gently past the inside of her gaze. A strange, fleeting moment — like something had been born anew.
Then she quietly returned to her seat.
As the introductions went on, I doodled in the back pages of my notebook, and jotted down the day's events in that book — "12 Ridiculous Wishes" — the one I wrote imagining I'd someday meet a fairy from my dreams. Well — maybe I really would, someday.
Then my turn came.
The sound of my chair scraping back. Just as I stood up — every pair of eyes in the class turned to me at once.
My feet stopped.
Like a massive boulder had been placed on both legs.
I remembered. Middle school. When I had tried to introduce myself back then — I was laughed at. Ignored. Looked at like a small ant crawling along the floor.
I pressed my trembling knee steadily with my hand.
"Come on. Don't chicken out. This is your new high school life."
I told myself that, quietly, on the inside.
Even this pressure — I would enjoy it. Because that was proof that I was still here.
One step. Then another. Each one felt heavier. Still, I kept moving my feet. Biting my lip.
And I arrived — at the front of the podium.
I turned around. Every eye was on me.
"…Hello. My name is Shiba Haruto. Nice to meet you."
My voice shook, a little.
Silence.
A moment where no one said anything.
What broke that silence — was the sound of a chair.
Asami stood up. And waved at me. What lived in those eyes was — unmistakably, genuinely — a smile.
Then the Novel Maniac next to me stood up, leaned against the window frame, and said:
"Welcome, brave hero. O reborn champion — hahahaha."
"I, as king, am honored to have crossed paths with thee. Remember this — the Demon Lord shall soon awaken."
And with that, he sat back down. I found myself scratching my forehead. He'd seemed so arrogant, and yet he was infected with I'm-the-protagonist syndrome. I laughed a little despite myself.
My steps back to my seat were lighter than before.
Fear had been trying to steal my living hours from me. But now — it felt like I could just keep moving forward, the way a river flows. As though the darkness of the world had brightened, just a little. That's what I wanted to believe.
The bell rang. Break time.
Most of the students took their lunches and headed off wherever they pleased — rushing to the school store, heading into the hallway to find friends from other classes.
Only I remained in the classroom. There wasn't enough in my wallet to buy anything.
I looked beside me. Novel Maniac had his bento open. I spoke up.
"Hey, bookworm. What've you got?"
He smoothed his hair lightly and turned to face me with the eyes of a modern aristocrat.
"Listen here, brave hero — do not so carelessly interrupt the time this king enjoys his meal."
"Then Your Majesty, could you spare a little something for your starving 'hero'?"
"…Fine. As a merciful king, I shall share a small portion. Honestly, what a penniless hero."
And he extended his bento slightly toward me.
I moved to his desk.
We talked while we ate. About middle school. About his catastrophic heartbreak — he'd confessed to a girl he liked and the whole class had laughed at him. Ever since, he said, he could only trust the characters inside novels.
"…That's genuinely rough."
"Rough? Irrelevant to me. It was fate."
"You're putting on a brave face."
"I am not. This is simply how I live."
"…We're kind of alike, aren't we."
"We are not. You are penniless and I am a king."
"…Hahahaha."
"But — can I ask you one thing?"
"You dare question the king?"
"What is it you're looking for, inside those novels?"
A brief silence.
He closed the book. That was unusual. He looked out the window. Then — quietly, he said:
"…No matter how hard things get, the characters always find meaning in the end. In reality, that's often not the case. But inside a novel — something always remains."
"Is that why you read?"
"…I am a king. I don't answer."
"You just answered."
"…Shut up."
Without realizing it — we had already become friends. I didn't know the reason or the moment it happened. We were probably just two of a kind. Though I think he's a lot stranger than me.
That's when Asami approached.
She looked exhausted. Whether it was from class — or from what I'd vaguely heard, that she had tried to join the kendo club — I wasn't sure.
"Hey Asami, want to eat with us? With His Majesty here?"
She didn't answer. She just came closer and looked at us both. I watched her expression carefully. No matter how I looked at it, she was clearly drained. So I said nothing more.
She reached into her pocket and took out her phone. Her fingers moved quickly.
[You two are weird enough as it is. So I won't be eating with you. Understood?]
With that, she returned to her seat. Fiddling with her phone, not glancing our way at all. I thought about calling out to her again — but something felt different from when we'd met at the acceptance board. She was probably just tired.
I pulled a desk closer and looked out the window. A cool breeze flowing down from the mountains drifted into the classroom. The air felt good. Outside, the athletic types were playing some kind of class match. I felt a pang of envy. The way I was right now, even a small stumble could be dangerous.
If this is what I have — I want to make the most of this one year. Even if there's nothing else I can do — at least I can laugh louder than anyone.
I looked again at the odd person beside me. Asked him seriously.
"Hey, classmate. If you only had a little time left to live — how would you spend it?"
"…Are you serious?"
"I'm not."
"Serious?"
"I'm serious, you idiot!"
He smoothed his hair with elegant composure. Infuriating.
"If the king's lifespan were limited — first, I would go see the people who matter most to me. Then — I would read as many books as I like. And lastly — I would end it with a smile."
A brief pause.
"…You actually say some pretty reasonable things sometimes."
"I am always reasonable."
"You were just going on about a Demon Lord."
"That is a separate matter."
"Hahahaha."
Without realizing it — I was laughing. Really laughing.
"Were you listening?"
"I was."
"What were we talking about?"
"Novels."
"And then?"
"Death."
"Terrible. To treat a fine companion so poorly. May God's grace be with you."
"Requesting it early."
And so, right to the end, our conversation never quite lined up. One talked, the other listened — or seemed to — yet the answers always came back right. Like vines winding around a tree.
The final bell rang.
Time to go home. It felt like spring buds finally breaking through after a long winter's sleep. I gathered my things, zipped my bag firmly shut — and headed toward the place I called my hideout.
As I ran along the end of the hallway, a book suddenly slipped from my hand.
It was an important book.
The sound of it hitting the floor echoed through the corridor. It lay face-down with its pages open. The after-school hallway was full of footsteps. Someone passed by. Then someone else. With every set of footsteps that faded away, my chest tightened.
The moment I saw the open page, the blood drained from my face. It was a page no one else could ever see.
"December 20XX
The first time I was told — when I learned that who I am now is different from who I used to be. I can't call myself strong. That damn doctor, acting like some kind of god, handed down a sentence on my remaining time. He's probably done this to others before. I probably don't have much left. With whatever time remains, I want to laugh with the people I meet. This book is a secret. A secret I wish even I didn't know. If fairies really exist — please, grant these 12 ridiculous wishes [Bleh]…"
I reached for it quickly.
But — another hand touched it first.
Pale and slender. A girl's hand.
I looked up — it was Asami.
My heart leapt hard.
The air in the hallway seemed to shift. The footsteps that had been so noisy moments ago fell distant. The evening light pouring through the windows cast long shadows along the hallway floor. In the orange light, her profile glowed quietly. The sound of a club's practice calls drifted from somewhere far away. Someone was laughing. Someone was running. The world kept moving, unchanged.
But — only this hallway had stopped.
Her eyes weren't on me. They were on the book.
She was reading that page — the one that had time itself written into it.
I tried to stop her. But she was faster.
She picked up the book and kept reading. I could see her face changing slowly. A furrow between her brows, the corners of her mouth dropping, the eyes following the words — wavering.
"Ah — Asami, that's just something like a diary. Kind of like a rough draft for a story I'm writing, haha—"
I tried to laugh it off.
She slowly took out her phone from her pocket. Her fingers — were trembling.
[Are you going to die?]
"…What? No, no, that's just fiction that I'm—"
[Are you really going to die?]
Our eyes met.
It was the look I hated most. The look you give someone who is already dead. Those eyes trembled quietly — like the surface of a river.
Right now, it's only hope that has died. I decided to tell myself that.
"…Please. Don't tell anyone in class."
"I just want to laugh like everyone else. I don't want to be looked at with pity. So — please, Asami."
"Just for one year. You don't have to do anything special. Just laugh with me as a normal classmate. That's — enough for me."
For a while, she typed nothing.
She only — looked at the book. Looked at me. Looked at the book again.
The air in the hallway drifted quietly past.
Outside the window, a single bird flew by.
Then, slowly, she raised her phone.
[Fine. I'll keep quiet. Though honestly — what kind of idiot uses their remaining time on 12 wishes to a fairy]
Those eyes changed.
They were no longer the eyes from before. Good. I snatched the book back and held it to my chest.
But still — something lingered at the corner of her mouth. Something she was holding back. I didn't understand why she was sad. After all, when it came down to it, we were nothing more than "classmates who laughed together."
Just as I took the book back and turned to leave —
Someone tugged at the strap of my bag.
I turned around. Asami was facing downward, gripping my bag with her right hand. Her left hand held her phone, typing with just one hand.
[Make me your fairy.]
For a moment, I turned those words over slowly.
Make me your fairy.
Five words. Just five words. And yet — something in the depths of my chest stirred quietly. These weren't words that should come out so easily. What is this girl carrying on her shoulders, standing here like this? A girl without a voice, voiceless as she is, trying to carry my remaining time alongside me.
Another strange person has shown up — that's what I thought.
"…What do you mean?"
The sound of typing again. This time — those eyes were wavering. Why a person I barely knew would feel pity for me — I still didn't understand.
[…I'll grant your "12 Ridiculous Wishes."]
[So — don't stop smiling. Idiot.]
Something moved inside my chest.
I couldn't put it into words. Only — it felt like someone was angry on my behalf. Like someone valued my remaining time more than I did. That's what it felt like.
A robotic voice said "idiot" in a completely flat tone.
I pressed down hard on whatever was welling up inside me. Forced a smile onto my face and said to her:
"Alright then, fairy. First wish — will you come out with me this weekend? Haha."
She turned her face away.
She pressed the back of her right hand gently to the corner of her eye. Just once. Then — slowly lowered it. Her fingertips were slightly wet.
And when she turned back to face me — there was a smile on her face. Like a real fairy had come riding in on the wind. Her shoulder-length hair swayed gently in the breeze.
[Fine. But I'm choosing where we go.]
"Alright, it's a deal!"
I held out my right thumb in front of her face. Smiling.
[Give me your contact info.]
My hand left the bag strap. We both took out our phones and exchanged numbers.
That day — perhaps a "secret date" had begun.
When we finished exchanging numbers, the two of us started walking as though nothing had happened at all. In front of the school gate, our paths naturally parted. She headed toward "home." I headed toward — my "hideout."
I couldn't call it "home." There were many reasons. Inside was a mess, and there was nothing there that deserved to be called "home."
I walked alone.
The sun had begun to hide behind the clouds, and the sky began to weep — as though mourning for someone. Raindrops struck the quiet road. The puddles at my feet reflected a gray sky. I had no umbrella. But — I kept walking.
I walked through the rain.
Even so — only inside my chest, it was a little warm.