Dreams Disappearing

Tiny snowflakes fell upon his scarlet cheeks. Their ice-cold touch jolted him awake. His lashes fluttered against the cold, his breath clouding in the frigid air. Kotaro examined his surroundings. The bustling sounds of cars and the ordinary sight of the city streets greeted his senses. The alley that once pulsed with otherworldly energy was nothing more than cracked pavement and faded graffiti. No lingering traces of the fantastical realm he traversed. Reality had stitched itself back together, as if nothing had ever happened.

His heart pounded in his chest. Was it real?

The memory of the shrine and its unoccupied presence lingered in his mind. Kotaro’s fingers curled into the snow beside him, as if expecting to grasp something tangible—something that would prove he hadn’t imagined it all. But all he found was the bitter sting of winter.

A dull metallic glint caught his eye. His phone. Half-buried in the slush, its screen fractured like a spiderweb. He picked it up, pressing the power button. He sighed with disappointment. Nothing. Dead. Broken. Any messages, any proof—gone. The mystery of his experiences would have to remain his own—for now.

The thought of the Wilsons waiting for him at home tugged at the edges of his mind. They were always worried about his well being. Bearing those thoughts would do him nothing. The night was still young, but he needed to return safely.

Kotaro rose unsteadily, brushing the snow from his clothes. The city lights flickered against the damp streets, too bright, too sharp—like an overexposed photograph. The laughter of passing strangers sounded hollow, and the honking of cars felt distant, as if he were hearing them from underwater.

His fingers twitched at his sides. His mind swirled with questions, and his heart was set on finding the truth. Was this world home? Or had he been left behind?

Kotaro cast one last glance at the alley before stepping forward. One foot in front of the other. Just walk. Just breathe. Each step felt heavier than the last.

The enigmatic figure of a child danced in his thoughts. Kotaro couldn't shake the feeling that his life changed forever. He had glimpsed a world beyond imagination, and his destiny was intertwined with forces far greater than he could comprehend. Nevertheless, Kotaro resolved to embrace the unknown.

By the time he reached the Wilsons’ front porch, the weight pressing on his chest intensified. Who knew how long he spent in that world, and his broken phone didn’t help the situation. He hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob.

The door swung open before he could decide. Amanda stood in the doorway, her face pale, her eyes red-rimmed from worry. “Kotaro!”

Before he could react, her arms were around him, holding him so tightly it almost hurt. She trembled against him, her breath shaky as she whispered, “We were worried.”

Kotaro stiffened at first, his mind still caught between two worlds. But then, slowly, his body eased. For now, he was home.

He held onto her tightly, finding solace in the warmth of her embrace. Sleep took him swiftly, pulling him into a dreamless abyss. The night passed onwards until the golden sun arose like a baby, painting the darkness into light; the layers of white remained motionless upon the green.

Kotaro's eyes fluttered open, but his alarm clock told him that he overslept. Panic surged through him as he shot up in bed. The once orderly room resembled a battlefield—clothes strewn across the floor and books scattered on his desk.

He yanked on the first clothes within reach, not sparing a glance at whether they matched. He struggled with his socks, nearly toppling over in the process. "Why do mornings have to be so chaotic?" he groaned.

His jet-black hair was a tangled disaster, but he had no time to fix it properly. Kotaro grabbed a brush and quickly ran it through his unruly locks, hoping it would suffice. It didn’t.

As he rushed downstairs, the smell of breakfast wafted through the air. Amanda was already in the kitchen, her hands deftly working over the stove. She glanced at him, exasperation clear in her tired eyes, "Kotaro, you really need to start setting an alarm. You can't keep waking up late like this."

"I know, I know," he mumbled, shoving a piece of toast into his mouth mid-stride. "Sorry, Mom! I'll try to be more responsible."

Amanda sighed but couldn’t completely suppress a small smile. "Just eat quickly, and I'll make you a cup of coffee to go."

“I’ll pass on the coffee! Thanks, Mom.”

“Kotaro, I can drive you if—” The door slammed behind him before she could finish.

The cold air hit him like a slap. His breath formed wisps of white in the frigid morning as he broke into a sprint. Winter's breath invigorated him, and the city around him blurred—cars, people, voices—all fading into the background.

Then—

A shadow moved.

Before Kotaro could react, a feminine figure descended from above.

A pair of shoes landed squarely on his head, using Kotaro like a stepping stone before springing off. The impact sent a jolt through his body, nearly knocking him off balance. He barely processed the weight before it was gone, replaced by the lightest touch of air.

The girl landed smoothly a few feet ahead of him. She turned her head slightly, her azure gaze meeting his for the briefest moment.

“Sorry!” she called out, her voice light but hurried. And then—she sprinted into the distance.

Kotaro stood frozen, processing what happened. The dull throb on his skull assured him it wasn’t his imagination. A flicker of irritation rose in him, but he shook it off. He couldn’t afford distractions, not when he was running late for school.

The school gates loomed ahead as he continued his run. Several students were in the same boat as him, most of them entering the building nonchalant. Luckily, the final bell hadn’t rung.

Relief washed over him, and he slowed down his pace, catching his breath.

But his thoughts remained tangled. The girl. Something about the way she moved—the way she had simply appeared—didn’t sit right with him. But for now, he had bigger things to worry about.

"Explain yourself, Koty! Where were you?" It was Rocky. With his dark complexion and ever-present grin, he was known for his jolly nature and his tendency to tease Kotaro when the opportunity approached. “You missed the raid last night! Now you can’t get the Sword of Justice.”

Kotaro stiffened. Last night’s adventure and this morning’s strange encounter remained fresh in his mind. There was no way he could tell Rocky about last night. What proof could he provide? His phone was destroyed. No proof. No explanation. “Sorry, Rocky! It’s complicated…”

Rocky gave him a skeptical look before patting his shoulder—once, twice, then repeatedly, as if drumming out a beat of suspicion. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

Kotaro forced a smile, unwilling to challenge the accusation. "Okay, you got me! Would you believe me if I said I ventured into that alleyway?"

"No video, no proof!" Rocky declared with a playful grin, his eyes gleamed with mischief. Kotaro groaned, surrendering to his demands. "So, as punishment, you better write my English essay."

"Write it yourself..." Kotaro shot back, feigning a stern tone.

Rocky clutched his chest dramatically, letting out an exaggerated whimper. Kotaro chuckled. He appreciated his friend's antics. Rocky and Ging were the only two individuals with whom Kotaro felt truly comfortable. They grounded him, gave him something normal to hold onto. With everything going on, he needed that.

With a wry smile, Kotaro turned to him. "Alright, how about I make it up to you on the next raid?"

"Oh, you better!" Rocky’s mock sulking vanished in an instant, replaced by bubbling excitement.

The school bell rang, cutting through their laughter. "Well, I'll see you in Mr. Praum's class."

Kotaro nodded and waved him off. As they bade each other farewell, the weight of unease crept back in. His footsteps slowed. A prickle ran down his spine, the unmistakable sensation of being watched. Kotaro turned sharply.

No one.

He kept a cautious eye and analyzed anything out of the ordinary. “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

Heading to his first class, a grouchy old man towered over him. Thin as a stick in appearance, he compensated for his intimidation with his thunderous voice.

Kotaro waved at his history teacher, but to no reaction. Mr. Wilcox remained silent. His gaze fixed on the students entering the classroom. The arrangement of desks resembled a college lecture hall. Walking to his desk, his eyes slowly drew on Mimi.

The sweet fragrance of her perfume filled the air, her long ebony hair braided into a pony-tail, and her radiant presence brought a sense of calm and peace to the otherwise serious atmosphere.

As the classroom filled to its maximum capacity, Mr. Wilcox launched into a passionate lecture about the intricacies of history. His voice boomed through the room, filling every nook and cranny with his wealth of knowledge and enthusiasm. Kotaro tried his best to focus on the lesson, but his mind kept drifting back to Mimi, her presence casting a gentle spell over him.

A piece of chalk smacked Kotaro's forehead, drawing the attention of his classmates. His cheeks flushed scarlet. "Wakie-wakie, dreamer boy!"

Whispers spread among his peers. Their curiosity piqued by the interruption. The teacher's voice became a mere background noise as their attention shifted to Kotaro. Feeling the weight of their gazes, he wished for the ground to swallow him whole.

"Mr. Wilcox, can you please continue the session rather than focus your time on Kotaro?" Mimi spoke up, her voice calm and assertive.

Her intervention brought Kotaro a sense of relief, like a lifeline thrown his way. He couldn't help stealing a glance at her, her light-brown eyes meeting his briefly. Kotaro quickly averted his gaze.

With Mimi's words, the attention shifted away from him. Kotaro refocused on the lesson. However, throughout the class, he found himself stealing occasional glances at Mimi, her presence becoming a source of comfort and inspiration amidst the academic rigidity.

Just as Kotaro was getting engrossed in the lecture, the class was interrupted by the health teacher. “Good morning, Mr. Wilcox. I hope I’m not interrupting you.”

“I hope it’s nothing serious, Mrs. Jones,” replied Mr. Wilcox.

“Oh no, but you will be having a new student in your class,” Mrs. Jones announced, gesturing towards the door. “There’s no need to be shy. This will be your first class.”

Her face was round, with a tiny nose, and her golden hair cascaded down to her shoulders. It was her striking, bright azure eyes that captivated Kotaro’s attention. They shone like the sun, radiating a pure blue that was alluring.

“This is your first hour. Go on and introduce yourself!” Mrs. Jones encouraged the new student.

She introduced herself with a mixture of confidence and innocence. “Um, my name is Noel Natsuki. As you can see—or I mean, hear, I learned my English from my dad, and my mom is Japanese. I hope to be friends with every one of you!"

Whispered conversations circulated through the class. Some of the boys exchanged intrigued glances, while a few girls murmured among themselves. But Kotaro wasn’t paying attention to any of that. The presence of this new student unsettled him. There was a sense of familiarity around this girl’s aura.

His stomach twisted the longer he kept his eyes on her. No way…she’s that…

Their eyes met briefly, and in an instant, they had both come to a realization.

Kotaro’s chair scraped against the floor as he shot up, jabbing a finger in her direction.

"You’re that—" the two blurted at the same time.

"Crazy barbarian!" Kotaro exclaimed first.

“Boy!” Noel blurted out at the same time.

An awkward silence fell over the class.

"Hey! What do you mean, crazy barbarian?" Noel huffed, hands on her hips.

“Just now, when we were heading to school, you stepped on my head, remember?” Kotaro snapped, his voice rising.

Noel blinked, then gasped. “Wait, you were that guy?” She scoffed. “Well, I apologized! Didn’t I? All I did was jostle you a bit, so spare me your accusations, will you?”

Anger and embarrassment resurfaced for Kotaro. His eyes twitched. Jostle? “A little? What kind of weirdo comes out of nowhere and steps on people?”

“If you’re not satisfied, then I’m sorry if you didn’t notice,” she said with an exaggerated shrug. “Why don’t you just forgive me? You’re so effeminate!”

“So that’s how you apologize? Why you…” Kotaro’s fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His jaw tightened, a muscle twitching as his teeth ground together. His whole face darkened with frustration, heat creeping his neck. His body trembled, barely containing the fury bubbling inside him, like a volcano on the verge of eruption. His breath came out in sharp, ragged bursts, his temples pulsing with irritation. This girl…this ridiculous girl! His patience snapped. “You gorilla!”

Noel gasped, her wrath mirroring Kotaro. “Who are you calling a gorilla?”

Tension thickened in the air as the two squared off, verbal daggers flying. Around them, students gawked, some whispering, others stifling laughter. One student muttered, “Dude, it’s only first period.”

Through it all, Mr. Wilcox remained frozen, rubbing his temples. He sighed. Their blind rage for each other had forgotten about Mr. Wilcox.

“Enough! That’s enough, both of you!” he roared. Noel jolted by the unexpected scream. “We are here to learn, not argue! Now, let’s get back to learning!”

Kotaro settled back into his seat while Noel was assigned to a desk far from him. The lingering tension between them gradually dissipated as Mr. Wilcox wrapped up his lecture. Yet, even as the lesson came to a peaceful close, a strange energy remained between them—something unresolved, something neither of them could quite address.

As the class ended, Kotaro packed his belongings, eager for his favorite class. He navigated the bustling hallways, weaving through the crowd of students. But a prickling sensation crawled up his spine—a familiar unease. Someone was following him.

He turned sharply, eyes narrowing. His instincts were proven right. Noel.

"Can’t get enough of me, huh?" Kotaro teased, raising a brow.

"As if I would follow someone like you," Noel retorted, crossing her arms. "This is my first time, and I don’t know where I’m going."

"Uh-huh? And who’s your next teacher?"

"Mr. Praum," Noel replied.

Kotaro stopped in his tracks. It felt like more than just a coincidence, as if their paths were destined to cross again. Before he uttered a word, something flickered in his vision—a fleeting image, just for a second.

The school hallway melted away, turning into a vast meadow that stretched before him. Golden grass swayed under a soft breeze. A young, rounder-faced Noel stood in front of him, her bright azure eyes filled with innocence. The image snapped away as quickly as it came.

Kotaro blinked, disoriented. His breath hitched, his mind racing. What…was that?

“What’s the matter?” Noel’s voice cut through the moment, bringing him back to reality. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

"N-Nothing. I’m heading there as well…" Kotaro muttered, shaking his head. The vision lingered in his mind, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on it.

They exchanged wary glances, uncertainty hanging in the air as they walked side by side toward their next class.