Chapter 4 — Names

I started paying attention to names after that.

Not because I wanted to, but because my mind wouldn’t leave the thought alone. It followed me through the day, settling into the quiet spaces between classes and conversations.

Names mattered.

I wasn’t sure why I felt that way. I just did.

Sora sat two rows ahead of me again during afternoon homeroom. He looked the same as yesterday—still smiling, still relaxed—but something about him felt incomplete, like a sentence that never quite finished.

The teacher spoke at the front of the room. Students whispered to one another. Papers were passed down the rows.

Sora felt distant.

I watched him closely this time. When someone leaned across his desk to borrow an eraser, their arm passed a little too close, like they hadn’t judged the distance correctly. Sora laughed and handed it over, unbothered.

No one else seemed to notice.

My heart beat faster.

I told myself to stop staring. This was none of my business. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t something I could fix by thinking about it harder.

Still.

When the room grew quiet, when the teacher turned back to the board, the name surfaced in my mind again.

Sora.

Before I could stop myself, I said it out loud.

“Sora.”

It wasn’t loud. Barely more than a breath. I hadn’t meant for anyone else to hear it.

But Sora did.

He turned around, eyes meeting mine with clear surprise. “Yeah?” he said. “What’s up?”

Something shifted.

It was subtle, but unmistakable. The air around him felt heavier, fuller. His outline sharpened, like someone had adjusted the focus without warning. The loose feeling I’d noticed before—whatever had been missing—snapped back into place.

I froze.

“Oh,” I said quickly. “Nothing. Sorry.”

Sora laughed, easy and bright. “You scared me for a second. Thought I forgot something.”

He turned back around, already finished with the moment.

But I wasn’t.

For the rest of the period, Sora felt normal. Solid. When he spoke to someone nearby, they answered without hesitation. When the bell rang, someone called out to him from across the room, using his name again.

It echoed in my head.

I didn’t move right away after class ended. I stayed seated, staring at my desk, replaying the moment over and over.

I hadn’t imagined it.

Saying his name had changed something.

I didn’t know how. I didn’t know why. I didn’t even know if it would work again.

But it had worked once.

As I stood to leave, Sora passed by my desk and nodded at me. “See you tomorrow,” he said.

I watched him walk away, surrounded by noise and movement, unmistakably there.

My hands were shaking slightly.

I curled them into fists and forced myself to breathe.

This didn’t mean anything.

It couldn’t.

It was probably coincidence. Timing. My imagination connecting things that didn’t belong together.

That explanation felt safer.

So I held onto it tightly as I stepped into the hallway, repeating the thought to myself like a promise.

It worked—but I didn’t know why.

And that was a question I wasn’t ready to ask.