I woke up before my alarm for the first time in months.
The morning light felt different somehow—sharper, more alive. It painted everything in my room with a golden glow that made even the mundane furniture look like it belonged in a movie. I lay there for a moment, watching dust motes dance in the sunbeams, and realized something had fundamentally shifted inside me.
Yesterday felt like a dream, but not the kind that fades with morning. The kind that seeps into your bones and changes the way you see everything.
Airi.
Her name bloomed in my mind like a flower opening to the sun, bringing with it a cascade of sensory memories. The way her voice had dropped to a whisper when she talked about waking up. How her hand had felt in mine—warm, real, electric. The confusion in her eyes when she'd said my name like she'd been waiting her whole life to say it.
And then her friends, appearing like guardians at a gate I hadn't realized I was trying to pass through.
I touched the bracelet on my wrist. It was cool this morning, almost ordinary, but when I concentrated I could feel something underneath the surface. A pulse, maybe. Or potential energy, waiting.
My phone buzzed with messages from the group chat:
Taichi: morning losers
Kouta: Its 6 AM why are you awake
Taichi: early bird gets the worm
Ren: the early bird can have the worm
Kei: philosophy of morning people vs night owls - discuss
Taichi: kei its too early for philosophy
Me: morning
Kouta: yuuma?? youre up early
Taichi: thinking about poetry books? 😏
Heat crept up my neck even though I was alone. Was I that transparent?
Me: just couldn't sleep
Ren: meet us for breakfast? dining hall opens in 20
Me: sure
I set the phone down and headed for the shower, catching my reflection in the mirror as I passed. Same face as always, but something in my expression was different. Less defeated. More... hopeful?
The hot water felt amazing, and I found myself actually looking forward to the day ahead. When was the last time that had happened?
The dining hall buzzed with early morning energy—the kind of students who had 8 AM classes or were trying to get a head start on the day. I spotted my friends at our usual table by the windows, already deep in conversation over coffee and what looked like an impressive spread of breakfast food.
"Look who decided to join the land of the living," Kouta called as I approached with my tray.
"I'm impressed," Ren said, checking his watch. "It's 7:15 and you're not only awake, you're dressed and fed."
"Miracles do happen," I said, settling into the empty chair they'd saved for me.
"Speaking of miracles," Taichi said with a grin that immediately put me on alert, "guess who just walked in?"
I turned to follow his gaze and felt my heart do that now-familiar skip.
Airi stood near the entrance, scanning the room with that slightly lost expression I was beginning to recognize. She'd traded yesterday's soft sweater for a cream-colored cardigan over a simple dress, and her hair caught the morning light like spun gold. But it was her posture that grabbed my attention—shoulders slightly hunched, like she was bracing herself for something.
Her friends were nowhere to be seen.
"Interesting," Kei observed quietly. "She's alone."
"Should I...?" I started, then stopped, unsure what I was even asking.
"Go talk to her," Taichi said immediately. "But be cool about it. No desperate puppy dog eyes."
"I don't do desperate puppy dog eyes," I protested.
Four pairs of skeptical eyes stared back at me.
"Okay, maybe a little," I admitted.
"Just be yourself," Ren advised. "The version of yourself that impressed her yesterday."
I took a deep breath, grabbed my coffee, and stood up before I could lose my nerve.
"Wish me luck."
"You don't need luck," Kei said quietly. "You need courage. And you already have that."
Crossing the dining hall felt like walking through water. Every step seemed to take forever, and I was hyperaware of every other person in the room, convinced they were all watching this potential train wreck unfold.
But when Airi looked up and saw me approaching, her face lit up with a smile so genuine it made my chest ache.
"Yuuma," she said, and there was relief in her voice. "Hi."
"Hi. Mind if I sit?" I gestured to the empty table she'd claimed near the windows.
"Please." She gestured to the chair across from her, then seemed to reconsider. "Actually, sit here." She patted the chair beside her instead.
The casual intimacy of the gesture—wanting me close rather than across a barrier—sent warmth flooding through me.
"Where are your friends?" I asked as I settled beside her, close enough to catch the faint scent of her perfume. Something light and floral that made me think of spring mornings.
"Rika has an early lab, Miyu's still asleep—she's not a morning person—and Saya..." Airi paused, something flickering across her expression. "Saya had something to take care of."
There was a story there, but I didn't push. Instead, I gestured to her nearly empty tray. "Not hungry?"
"Nervous stomach," she admitted, then looked surprised at her own honesty. "I mean... I don't usually eat much in the morning anyway."
"Nervous about what?"
She turned to look at me directly, and I was struck again by how expressive her eyes were. Like windows into emotions she didn't quite know how to voice.
"About seeing you again," she said simply.
The words hit me like a physical blow. Not because they hurt, but because they were so honest, so vulnerable, that they made something crack open in my chest.
"Why would that make you nervous?"
"Because..." She bit her lip, clearly struggling with something. "Because I can't stop thinking about yesterday. About sitting in the library with you, talking about poetry and seasons and... and that feeling like I was finally awake."
My bracelet pulsed once, warm and encouraging.
"And that scares you?"
"Terrifies me," she admitted with a shaky laugh. "I don't usually connect with people like that. Especially not strangers."
"Are we strangers, though?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
She went very still. "What do you mean?"
"I mean..." I struggled to find words for something I didn't fully understand myself. "Yesterday, when you turned around in class, it didn't feel like meeting someone new. It felt like... recognition."
"Like remembering instead of learning," she whispered, echoing her words from the library.
"Exactly."
We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of shared confusion and impossible familiarity settling between us. Around us, the dining hall buzzed with normal morning conversation, but it felt like we were in a bubble, separate from the rest of the world.
"Can I tell you something that's going to sound completely insane?" Airi said finally.
"Try me."
"I've been having dreams. For weeks now. About this place, these people, this life. But in the dreams, everything feels more real than real life. Like I'm more myself there than I am when I'm awake." She looked at me with something that might have been hope or desperation. "Does that sound crazy?"
Every word hit me like an electric shock. Because yes, it sounded crazy. But it also sounded exactly like what I'd been experiencing since yesterday morning.
"No," I said quietly. "It doesn't sound crazy at all."
"Really?" The relief in her voice was palpable.
"Really. I've been feeling like I'm living in a dream since I got here. But not the kind of dream where nothing makes sense. The kind where everything makes perfect sense for the first time in your life."
She turned to face me fully, and I could see tears gathering in her eyes. "I thought I was losing my mind."
"If you are, then we both are."
"That's strangely comforting."
We smiled at each other, and I felt something shift between us. Not just attraction or connection, but understanding. Like we were two people who'd been speaking different languages our whole lives and had suddenly discovered we were fluent in the same secret tongue.
"So what do we do with this?" I asked.
"I don't know. I've never experienced anything like it before." She paused, then looked at me with sudden intensity. "Have you ever felt like you were living the wrong life? Like somewhere out there was the person you were supposed to be, the life you were supposed to have, but you couldn't figure out how to get to it?"
The question pierced straight through me. Because yes, that was exactly how I'd felt for as long as I could remember. Like I was a puzzle piece that didn't fit anywhere, no matter how hard I tried to make myself match the spaces available.
"Every day," I admitted.
"And now?"
I looked around the dining hall, at my friends who'd somehow accepted me without question, at this girl who felt like home in human form, at this place that seemed designed specifically for the person I'd always wanted to be.
"Now it feels like I found it," I said. "Like I found me."
"Me too," she whispered.
We talked for another hour, losing track of time completely. The conversation flowed like water, moving from deep philosophical questions to silly observations about campus life to shared stories about books and movies and the kind of random thoughts that pop into your head at 3 AM.
I learned that Airi kept a sketchbook but rarely showed her drawings to anyone because she thought they revealed too much about her inner world. That she'd always felt like she was performing different versions of herself for different people, but never knew which version was real. That she loved the smell of rain but hated the sound of thunder. That she'd been keeping a dream journal because the dreams felt too important to forget.
"What do you draw?" I asked when she mentioned the sketchbook.
"Faces, mostly. People I've seen in dreams, or variations of faces I know." She hesitated. "It sounds weird, but sometimes I draw the same face over and over, trying to get it right."
"What face?"
She looked at me for a long moment, and I saw her make some internal decision.
"I'll show you sometime," she said. "If you want to see."
"I'd like that."
The bracelet pulsed again, and this time I was certain I saw it glow faintly through my sleeve. Airi's eyes dropped to my wrist, and her expression became puzzled.
"That's an interesting bracelet," she said. "I don't think I noticed it yesterday."
I looked down at it, the silver band that had appeared with this new life. "It was a gift."
"From who?"
The honest answer was that I had no idea. But something made me say, "Someone who wanted me to remember that every moment matters."
"That's beautiful," she said softly. "And wise."
Before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through our bubble.
"Airi! There you are!"
Miyu bounded up to our table with characteristic energy, though I noticed she looked a little frazzled. Her usually perfect curls were slightly messy, and there was something in her expression that seemed forced.
"Hi, Miyu," Airi said, and I caught the subtle shift in her tone. Warmer, but also more guarded. "I thought you weren't a morning person."
"I'm not, but Saya called and said you'd left early and she was worried and asked me to find you." The words tumbled out in a rush, and Miyu's eyes kept darting between Airi and me. "She thought maybe you weren't feeling well or something."
"I'm fine," Airi said, but I noticed her shoulders tense slightly. "I just wanted some quiet time to think."
"Oh." Miyu's gaze landed on me, and she gave a bright smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Hi again! Yuuma, right?"
"Right. Good morning, Miyu."
"Morning! So..." She looked between us again, clearly unsure how to proceed. "Are you two having breakfast together?"
"Just talking," Airi said quickly. Too quickly.
The words stung more than they should have. Because we hadn't just been talking. We'd been connecting on a level that felt fundamental, sharing things that mattered. But apparently, that wasn't something Airi wanted to explain to her friends.
"That's nice," Miyu said, though her tone suggested it was anything but. "Saya and Rika are waiting for you in the common room. Something about planning for the cultural festival?"
I saw Airi's face change, resignation replacing the openness that had been there moments before.
"Right. The cultural festival." She started gathering her things, movements suddenly jerky and rushed. "I should go."
"You don't have to—" I started.
"I do," she said, not meeting my eyes. "We have... commitments."
The word hung between us like a door slamming shut.
She stood, shouldering her bag, and for a moment I thought she might leave without another word. But then she turned back, and her expression was full of apology and something that might have been longing.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "For listening. For understanding."
"Anytime."
She smiled then, small but genuine, and it felt like a promise. Then she and Miyu were gone, leaving me alone at the table with the lingering scent of her perfume and the memory of her laugh.
I sat there for several minutes after they left, processing what had just happened. The connection, the interruption, the way Airi had retreated into herself the moment her friend appeared. It was like watching someone put on armor, transforming from the vulnerable, honest person I'd been talking with into someone more careful, more contained.
My phone buzzed with a text.
Airi: I'm sorry about that. Miyu means well, but...
I stared at the message, unsure how to respond. Before I could type anything, another message appeared.
Airi: Can we talk later? Really talk?
Me: Of course. When?
Airi: After classes? The library again?
Me: Same time, same place?
Airi: Perfect. And Yuuma?
Me: Yeah?
Airi: Thank you for not being upset about this morning ending like that.
Me: Nothing to be upset about. See you later.
Airi: See you later.
I put my phone away and headed back to my friends, who were clearly trying not to look like they'd been watching the entire interaction.
"So," Taichi said as I sat down, "how did it go before the interruption?"
"Good," I said. "Really good."
"And after the interruption?" Ren asked.
"Complicated."
"Her friends don't trust you yet," Kei observed. "That's normal."
"Is it, though?" I looked around the table. "When you guys met me, you just... accepted me. No interrogation, no protective barriers. Why is it different with them?"
The four of them exchanged glances.
"Because," Kouta said carefully, "we're guys. Guy friendships are simpler. See guy, like guy, accept guy. Done."
"Girl friendships are more complex," Ren added. "More emotional investment, more potential for drama if someone gets hurt."
"Plus," Taichi said, "from what I've heard, Airi's friend group has been burned before. Some guy who came between them and caused problems."
"What kind of problems?"
"The usual. Jealousy, competing for attention, friendships getting damaged over a relationship that didn't even last." Kei shrugged. "Now they're protective."
I thought about Miyu's forced cheerfulness, the way she'd inserted herself into our conversation like a chaperone. About Saya's sharp assessment yesterday, and Rika's polite but watchful demeanor.
"So what do I do?"
"Be patient," Ren said. "Show them you're not going anywhere. That you care about Airi's happiness, not just your own."
"And maybe," Kei added quietly, "figure out what you're really feeling. Because if this is just infatuation, it's better to know that now before anyone gets hurt."
I touched the bracelet on my wrist, feeling its steady warmth. Thought about the way Airi had looked at me when she talked about waking up, about feeling like we were remembering instead of learning.
"It's not infatuation," I said.
"How do you know?"
"Because infatuation is about wanting something you don't have. This feels like... recognition. Like finding something I didn't know I'd lost."
The table went quiet.
"Damn," Taichi said finally. "That's either the most romantic thing I've ever heard, or you're in serious trouble."
"Maybe both," I admitted.
My bracelet pulsed once, warm and steady, like a heartbeat.
Like a timer, whispered a voice in the back of my mind that I immediately pushed away.
Because whatever this was—dream or reality, temporary or permanent—I wasn't ready to think about it ending.
Not when it felt like it had only just begun.