Chapter 2: Imposter

“You seem off today,” Tsubame said, “Is everything okay?”

Shiori gave her friend a smile unlikely to fool the other girl. Tsubame was Shiori’s oldest friend. She was small enough to be confused for an elementary school student. Not that Shiori was tall, but she loomed over Tsubame like an adult over a child. Tsubame lacked height but had social graces. While Shiori wasn’t inept, Tsubame was a social wizard at the center of attention in any situation.

With her long, slender limbs and delicate features, Shiori had an ethereal quality mismatched to Tsubame's petite, pixie-like poise. While Shiori faded into the background, Tsubame's expressive face and animated mannerisms drew the eye.

Tsubame knew how to read people. She eyed Shiori suspiciously, looking almost straight up at Shiori, who dodged eye contact.

Shiori’s smile faltered into an awkward grimace. “I’m fine. A bit shaken after lunch is all.”

“What happened at lunch?” Tsubame asked.

No matter what Shiori tried that afternoon, no one in the school remembered Motohara-senpai. She wondered if she was crazy. Did that really happen? What about the book and the black bookmark?

The book had her name in it. She had to be crazy, right? The book described exactly what happened to her. She likely started reading it and had a mental breakdown.

Shiori wasn’t sure whether it was crazier that she had watched a boy be pulled into a portal and forgotten by the whole school, or that he had been interested in her despite being the most popular boy in school.

“Shio-chan? What happened at lunch?” Tsubame used that nickname when Shiori was distant. Shio meant salt, and Tsubame started using ‘Shio-chan’ in middle school when Shiori was too anti-social.

“Oh, sorry,” Shiori apologized, “nothing.”

Tsubame looked up at Shiori dubiously. “I need to get you a boyfriend,” she sighed.

“Do not,” Shiori said, bristling, “especially after last time.”

There was a distinct but silent vibration from the book that Shiori held in her hand. No, the vibration came from the bookmark. Tsubame winced, putting a hand to her head. “I tried to set you up already, didn’t I?” Tsubame shook her head. “No, that’s not right. But there’s this hot foreign transfer student in the senior class.”

Shiori leaned forward, “You remember the transfer student, Motohara-senpai?”

Tsubame’s face went pale, but the color returned as she shook her head. “No, his name is Otonashi Kagemaru. He’s the only transfer student in the senior class. There is no Motohara-senpai. You must have heard the girls talking about Otonashi-senpai though. We talked about him yesterday.”

Again, the bookmark thrummed inside the book. They hadn’t talked about Otonashi-senpai. They had talked about Motohara-senpai. Had Shiori gone crazy and forgotten his name?

Shiori put a hand around her friend’s shoulders. “Let’s walk home,” she said, leading her diminutive friend out of the school building.

“Oh, there he is,” said Tsubame as they walked across the schoolyard, “that’s Otonashi-senpai.” Tsubame pointed to a couple of boys chatting with a small flock of girls. Shiori didn’t need to ask which boy was Otonashi-senpai.

Otonashi Kagemaru was tall enough to be seen over the group. His broad shoulders bobbed in a laugh. Shiori saw the flight of admirers swoon in unison as he laughed. Despite his imposing presence, there was an intelligence in his dark eyes that made him seem older and more mature than the senior girls surrounding him.

The girls clustered around Otonashi, vying for his attention like brightly-colored birds. Their giggles rang out. Otonashi was polite but distant. There was mystery about him. Shiori had seen Motohara surrounded by such admirers.

Shiori shook her head. “It’s like no one but me has noticed that Motohara-senpai has been replaced by Otonashi.”

The instant Shiori said the name ‘Motohara,’ a spike of pain shot through her head.

Shiori felt the bookmark vibrate and a strange tingling in her fingers. She gasped. The hairs on her neck stood on end as the feeling radiated up her arm and made her see double.

“Motohara?” Tsubame said dazedly, then winced and closed her eyes.

Shiori’s eyes met those of Otonashi-senpai, the imposter, across the courtyard. He looked right at her, ignoring everyone else.

His eyes narrowed, and the bookmark bucked and vibrated violently, making Shiori’s hand numb. Shiori gasped at the sensation.

“What’s happening?” Tsubame asked, then made a delighted and surprised noise, “don’t look now, but Otonashi-senpai is coming this way. I think he’s looking at you! Time to stop being Shio-chan and turn on the charm.”

Tsubame was right. Otonashi had worked through the crowd. All pretense of conviviality vanished from Otonashi's demeanor as he came. Gone was the charming façade - in its place, a predatory grace and focus that sent a chill down Shiori's spine. He moved with the stalking gait of a predator. His dark eyes fixed on her.

“Let me talk first. I’ll introduce you,” Tsubame said, putting on what Shiori recognized as Tsubame’s social ‘game face.’

“No,” Shiori said. The word’s force nearly made Tsubame sway. It banished the buzzing sensation from her head and stopped the bookmark’s vibration.

This was too strange. “We’re headed home,” Shiori said, pulling her smaller friend along by the wrist.

“Shio-chan, you’re always like this. Try being a bit more sweet and a bit less salty perhaps? I think he wants to talk to you. He’s following us.”

Shiori didn’t look back.