The university’s exit gate let them out onto the wide afternoon street.

Cold air slipped immediately through the gap between collar and neck. Cars rolled past in slow lines. People crossed the intersections in heavy coats with their heads lowered against the wind.

Daiki shoved both hands into his pockets.

"It’s freezing."

"You say that every day."

"And every day I’m right."

Beside him, Riku pulled both headphones on and disappeared into his coat without another word.

Ayame already looked built for winter, long dark coat buttoned neatly to the top while the wind moved lightly through her hair.

Mei disappeared almost entirely into her collar until only her glasses and braids remained visible.

They walked toward Hiashi Metro Station together.

Daiki talked most of the way.

First about cafeteria bread rolls.

Then about the soup.

Then somehow about the administration building budget, at which point even he seemed to lose track of what he was arguing anymore.

"The soup is suspiciously good," he insisted.

"It tastes normal," Ayame said.

"Exactly. That’s suspicious."

Kaito listened quietly and answered occasionally while the city moved around them.

Students.

Office workers.

People carrying shopping bags.

People heading home.

And between them, the dead.

An old woman stood outside a closed pharmacy with both hands at her sides staring at the shuttered entrance without moving.

Further down the road, a man in office clothes sat on the steps of a building with his elbows on his knees and his eyes fixed on the pavement beneath him.

Neither spirit noticed the living people walking through them.

Kaito looked away.

By the time they reached the Metro Station the crowd had thickened into evening commuter traffic.

Announcements echoed overhead. Train brakes screamed faintly somewhere below ground.

Daiki slapped Kaito once on the shoulder before heading toward the gates.

"Tomorrow."

"You’re going to show up anyway."

"I appreciate verbal confirmation."

He disappeared into the crowd.

Riku raised one hand without turning around.

Ayame looked back once from beside the ticket gate.

"Later, Kaito."

Then she was gone too.

Kaito adjusted his bag and started toward the platform.

"Um."

He stopped.

Mei stood a short distance behind him with both hands wrapped tightly around her bag strap.

She wasn’t moving.

"Your train’s eastbound."

She nodded.

Didn’t move.

People flowed around them continuously on both sides while station announcements rolled overhead again.

Mei looked at the floor.

Then the departure board.

Then somewhere near his shoulder instead of his eyes.

"A few days ago," she said quietly, "I saw something here."

Kaito stayed still.

"At the far end of the platform."

Her fingers tightened around the strap.

"It was standing near the wall and nobody reacted to it. Nobody looked at it." She swallowed. "Its proportions were wrong."

The words came slower now.

"The angle of its head. Its shoulders." Her voice lowered slightly. "It looked... wrong."

Kaito’s expression shifted slightly.

Mei noticed immediately.

"I know how that sounds."

"It doesn’t sound strange."

That made her finally look directly at him.

There was relief in it.

Real relief.

She let out a breath carefully, almost silently.

"Show me where," Kaito said.

She led him down the platform toward the quieter far end where fewer commuters stood waiting.

The noise of the station softened there.

Not quieter exactly.

Just further away.

The afternoon light came through the high station windows in long pale bands across the concrete floor while cold wind moved faintly through the tracks below.

Mei stopped walking.

Turned toward him.

Her cheeks were red.

Her hands had gone stiff at her sides.

For a moment she said nothing.

Kaito realized suddenly, all at once, that this was not entirely about the spirit.

Mei stared somewhere near the second button of his coat.

"I wanted to tell you," she said quietly.

Then stopped.

Her fingers curled once against the fabric of her coat.

"I wanted to tell you earlier but every time I tried I thought maybe I was misunderstanding things or bothering you or making it strange and then it kept becoming a bigger thing in my head and now I’m saying it badly."

She inhaled quickly through her nose.

"I like you, Kaito-kun."

The words came out small but steady.

"I have since the first time we met."

The station announcement overhead started speaking again and neither of them listened to it.

Mei’s voice dropped even quieter.

"So I was wondering if maybe..." She swallowed once. "If maybe you would want to go out with me sometime."

.

.

The car that stopped outside the hospital entrance barely made a sound.

Dark windows. Long black frame. Expensive enough that even the engine noise felt muted beneath the traffic outside the hospital.

The rear door opened and Reizen Hiro stepped out first.

He was tall and broad across the shoulders, dark hair pushed in different directions from running his hand through it too many times.

His jacket hung open despite the cold.

The silver Reizen insignia stitched over the left breast caught briefly under the hospital lights while he looked over the building entrance with quick unfocused eyes that still seemed to notice everything.

Reizen Natsume stepped out after him.

She wore a dark coat buttoned neatly to the top and black gloves despite being indoors now.

Short dark hair rested cleanly behind one ear. The same silver insignia sat against her collar.

Before walking forward, she adjusted the fit of one glove carefully against her wrist.

Neither of them spoke before entering the hospital.

The lobby was ordinary.

Fluorescent lights overhead.

Plastic chairs near the windows.

A nurse pushing a wheelchair past reception.

Two elderly patients reading magazines beside a heater.

A family at the information counter speaking quietly about visiting hours.

Warm air carried the faint smell of disinfectant and coffee.

A man in a dark suit near one of the far pillars noticed them immediately.

He crossed the lobby toward them in controlled steps that moved slightly too fast for someone trying to appear calm.

He looked mid-forties, suit creased from a long shift, tired eyes fixed forward while his hands remained clasped tightly in front of him.

His gaze flicked once toward the Reizen insignia on Hiro’s jacket.

Some tension left his shoulders after that.

"Thank you for coming," he said quietly.

"Fujino. Operations manager."