May 2nd, 2018
The spell begins on a perfect May morning, when Michi is twelve.
She stares at the uniform draped neatly over the chair. "Mom?" she yells, voice crackling.
"What?" Mom yells back from downstairs.
"MOM!"
Footsteps thump up the stairs. Mom sticks her head into the room, rice flour smeared across her cheek. "What?" she says irritably, wiping her floury hands on her apron. "I'm making your lunch–"
"Where's my uniform?"
"What are you talking about? It's right there."
"That's the wrong one! My uniform was blue. And it was a sailor suit, remember?" Michi hugs her arms over her rumpled pajamas. "You must have gotten the wrong one."
"Michi, that's the same uniform you tried on last week when we had it fitted." Mom squints at her. "Were you up all night watching anime again? You're half asleep."
"The uniform was blue, not white," Michi whines. "I remember. And it didn't have a jacket like that."
Mom glances at the uniform again. "The jacket does look a little bigger than I remember," she says dubiously. "I can hem it up some tonight. Is that what you're fussing about?"
"Mom, look at it!"
"I am looking at it. Michi, I don't have time for this. Hurry up and get dressed. You're going to be late for your first day of middle school." Mom ducks out again.
Michi glares at the uniform. It's definitely different. The uniform for Yukigaoka Junior High had a navy skirt, not a beige one, and it didn't have a white shirt, or a black jacket. The jacket is long and tailored and hangs to her skirt hem.
It'll be too big, she thinks, Mom bought the wrong one by mistake. But the uniform fits perfectly. She stares at herself in the mirror. The black jacket hugs her skinny frame. Her face is wan beneath its freckles, her eyes dark bruises beneath her bangs. Her small pointed chin pokes out, turtle-like, from her short dark hair. She looks like a cosplayer from some vampire anime. A bad one.
It's the wrong uniform, she thinks again, but doubt wriggles uncomfortably at the back of her mind.
Mom doesn't say anything about the uniform, just tucks her lunch box into her new backpack, kisses her forehead, pats down her bangs, and ushers her out the door. "Have a good first day," she says, and smiles at the girl standing in the apartment doorway across from theirs. "You too, Sayuri-chan."
"Thanks, Tachibana-san!" the girl chirps. Michi stares. She hadn't known there was a family living across from hers, or that Mom knew them –but she forgets to ask Mom, because the girl across from her is the prettiest human being she's ever seen.
The girl looks about her age, but the similarity ends there. She's half and head shorter than Michi, in a dainty, doll-like kind of way, with delicate features and perfect porcelain skin and wide, ethereal green eyes. Thick blonde waves tumble past her tiny waist. She's wearing the same black-and-white uniform as Michi.
"Michi!" she says, tugging at Michi's limp hands. Even her voice is too beautiful to be real. Michi's mind goes immediately to the shapeshifting monster from her parents' movie last night. That creepy lady had a pretty voice, too. And dimples. This girl has dimples. She's never seen a real person with dimples before.
She's too distracted by the dimples to say anything. Mom is still talking. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Sayuri-chan. Michi overslept her alarm. I hope you two won't be late. Will your brother be walking you to school?"
The creepy lady had green eyes, too, Michi thinks, staring at them curiously. The girl's eyes shimmer, even in the dimly lit hallway.
"He already left. He's on the student council, so he has to go early to help set up the classroom."
The creepy lady didn't have blonde hair, though…her hair is so pretty.
"Ah, I see. Tell him I said congratulations! Your family should come over for dinner tonight. I haven't seen your father in a while."
"Thank you, I will! Dad's been really busy lately with work, but I'm sure he'd love to have dinner."
I've never seen a girl my age with blonde hair before.
"I don't want to make you late. Be careful with traffic." Mom nudges Michi. She stumbles forward obediently. The pretty girl is still holding her hand with an iron grip.
"Goodbye, Tachibana-san!" she says, and drags Michi after her. Michi twists to look over her shoulder as the elevator doors slide shut behind her. Mom's smiling face vanishes from view. Michi blinks.
I'm being abducted, she thinks, and feels vaguely offended. And Mom didn't notice.
The girl keeps up a steady stream of chatter as they walk to school. She talks about how exciting it is to start junior high, and how the cafeteria bread is supposed to be really good there, and whether the classes will be difficult. Michi nods, barely listening. She's still processing her kidnapping.
"Have you finished Snow White with the Black Hair yet?" the girl asks. Michi refocuses. "What?"
The girl tilts her head. Sayuri, Michi remembers, that's what Mom called her. "You said you only had two more episodes to go. Is that what you stayed up late watching?"
"N-no," Michi stammers. "I –I haven't finished it yet."
"We can watch it together, then!" Sayuri squeezes her hand. "The ending is so good. You'll like it."
Michi stares at her. "What?" Sayuri says, smiling. She pats her cheek self-consciously. "Do I have something on my face?"
"I told you?"
"Yeah, last night. I told you to go ahead and finish it without me since dinner was running late." Sayuri's forehead crinkles. "How late did you stay up?"
Michi pulls her hand free. Sayuri stops walking. "Michi? What's wrong?"
I have never seen this girl in my life.
"Michi?"
Passersby's part around them. Michi looks around wildly. The sunlight glints sharply off the looming buildings above her. The hum of people and traffic throbs around her. Sayuri's green eyes are brilliantly, inhumanly bright in front of her. "Michi?" she says again, taking Michi's hands. Her fingers are small and soft and warm. Michi shivers.
"Nothing," she says. "I stayed up too late. That's all."
Sayuri still looks concerned. "Are you feeling okay?"
"Yeah." Michi shivers again. "Let's go."
I must be dreaming, she thinks. I must have fallen asleep watching that weird anime, and still haven't woken up.
The streets, even the people around her are consolingly familiar. Yukigaoka Junior High is only a block down from Yukigaoka Elementary. She's walked this way all her life. The creeping feeling of déjà vu grows.
Dreaming, she thinks again, and she must be right, because when they turn the corner a road she's never seen before appears in front of them. Sleek white buildings loom at the top of the hill, surrounded by high black gates. Rose Academy is carved in bold letters into the marble gateposts. Sakuras in full bloom frame either side of the road, their pale pink branches stretching out towards each other. Students in the exotic black-and-white uniform fall in step around them, chattering and laughing.
Michi realizes she does know this place. She's seen it in every shoujo anime she's ever watched. The déjà vu grows stronger. She follows Sayuri up to the gates, feeling more lost in the dream than ever. Maybe she shouldn't have watched that weird harem anime last night.
Sayuri tightens her grip on her hand. A few boys are staring at them, Michi realizes. No, not at them. A boy in front of them almost trips over his own feet, craning his head back to stare wide-eyed at Sayuri. Michi has never seen a boy her age stare at a girl before. The boys in her old class just screamed about cooties and threw crayons at her.
She glances sideways. Sayuri's bright green eyes are fixed steadily on the gates. Her chin is high, her fingers wrapped tight around Michi's wrist. An unfelt breeze stirs her hair. Cherry blossom petals swirl gently around her.
Michi plucks one out of the air, fascinated. The breeze promptly spits a petal into her mouth. She sputters, her hand falling out of Sayuri's. The other girl glances back at her, reaching out.
And then the dream shifts.
Michi stumbles. It feels as though the ground is yanked out from under her. Time stutters. An invisible force pushes her back.
And then time speeds back up. Sayuri's fingers miss hers by an inch. Michi staggers into what feels like a brick wall and sits down heavily on the pavement, disoriented. "Ow."
The brick wall moves. It has shoes, and white pants, and a long tailored black jacket. She looks up into dark blue eyes, in the most beautiful face she's ever seen.
Her voice shoots up an octave. "Sorry!"
The boy stares down at her. His eyes are so dark they're almost black in the shadow of the sun behind him. His face is even paler than Sayuri's, white against his jet-black hair.
She's suddenly aware of the stares and whispers surrounding them.
"Did you see that?"
"She totally did that on purpose."
"I know, right? She must be so desperate, stumbling into Prince Tatsuya like that."
"Sorry," Michi stammers again, her face bright red.
"S' okay," the boy mutters. He reaches down awkwardly. Sayuri beats him to it. "Are you okay, Michi?" she asks anxiously, almost yanking Michi to her feet. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine!" Michi grabs her hands as the other girl tries to brush off her skirt. Some of the onlookers giggle. "Really!"
Sayuri frowns up at the boy. "You should be more careful," she says indignantly. "You could have hurt her."
The boy shifts. "Sorry," he mumbles, a dull flush creeping into his pale cheeks. Sayuri grabs Michi's wrist. "C'mon. We're going to be late for class," she says.
"It wasn't his fault," Michi protests, stumbling after her. Sayuri shrugs. "He needs to be more careful where he's going, anyway. He knocked you over."
"I bumped into him," Michi says, turning red all over again. Sayuri ignores her. "I have to stop by the faculty office," she says after a long moment. "Kaname asked me to pick up the worksheets for him. Do you remember our class number?"
Michi nods automatically. Sayuri squeezes her hand. "See you in a bit," she says, and trots off, leaving a trail of wide eyes and envious stares.
Michi looks around at the unfamiliar hallway. She vaguely remembers walking past rows of white lockers and changing her shoes, and going up a staircase…to wherever she is now. She squints at the sign over the nearest door. Storage closet.
"Um," she says, as a cluster of students walk past.
"UM," she says a little louder, to the three girls walking towards her. "Excuse me…"
The girls exchange glances. One of them leans over and whispers in her friend's ear, still looking at Michi. The girl's friend steps closer. "Hey, you. You're new here, aren't you?"
Michi nods. They must be upperclassmen, she thinks gratefully. They'll know where the class lists are.
The girl takes another step forward. She's looming over Michi now, her face thrust close to hers. Michi blinks. "Um–"
"This is Rose Academy," the girl states. Michi nods again. It makes sense. She's always wanted to go to a private academy.
"Only the elite go here," one of the other girls interjects. "And everyone knows you never go near one of the Princes."
Michi blinks. The what now.
"Oh. My. God," the third girl squeals, seeing her blank face. "She doesn't know who the Princes are!"
"Are you sure you go here?" The first girl crosses her arms. "Everyone at Rose Academy knows the Princes, even though they're only first-years. We have the best Princes in the district this year."
"Of course she knows," the second girl says, rolling her eyes. "She totally threw herself into Prince Tatsuya on purpose."
"Who?" Michi says. All three girls round on her.
"Everyone knows you can never approach a Prince unless they talk to you first," the first girl says, as if reading off a rulebook. "That means they've fallen madly in love with you from afar and you'll get married and live happily ever after. But the Princes have never spoken to anyone."
"We're the Prince Tatsuya Protection Squad," the second girl chimes in. "We've known him since elementary school. We make sure no one tries to harass him."
"Like you did," the third girl spits.
Things click in Michi's brain. The pretty boy is a prince. And I walked right into him. And they –she looks up into three sneering faces with dawning understanding– they're the crazy fan club. Makes sense. Wasn't there a crazy fan club in the anime last night? And princes, I think. Some weird vampire reverse-harem thing –
"We're going to give you a pass, just this once, because you're new," the first girl says. "You should be grateful."
"Oh. Thank you." Michi remembers why she approached them. "Um, do any of you know where the class lists are?"
"Faculty rooms. First door on the left downstairs," the second girl says, dropping the condescending tone for a moment. Michi brightens. "Thanks."
"Don't forget!" one of them calls after her. "Never try to approach Prince Tatsuya again!"
And with that weird threat echoing after her, the dream shifts again.
"Ow," Michi says, resigned to smacking into brick walls at this point. There's an audible gasp behind her. She cranes her head back.
For a split second she thinks it's the same boy again. The same black shoes, the same long white pants and tailored jacket. But the eyes looking down at her are a clear, icy grey-green.
Michi catches her breath.
The boy from before had been beautiful. But this boy –this boy is gorgeous.
He towers over her, all angular features and cupid's-bow lips and those breathtakingly polychromatic eyes. The light glints off his silver hair –not platinum, not a trick of the light, silver, like an anime character. She stares. His beautiful features twist with scorn. "Watch where you're going."
"Don't be mean, Jirou," someone else says. A small, tanned hand is thrust before her; she takes it and finds herself face-to-face with mischievous amber eyes. The other boy is a few centimeters shorter than her, with curly blond hair and a wide, smiling mouth and freckles sprinkled across his snub nose. His voice is high and cheerful. "Sorry about that. Are you alright?"
"It's Prince Nagisa," one of the girls behind Michi whispers.
"And Prince Jirou," another one whimpers.
The boy tilts his head. He reminds Michi of a puppy, tail wagging. "Jirou, you should apologize," he says, elbowing his friend. The tall boy gives her an icy stare. "We're going to be late for class," he mutters, looking away again. "Let's go."
"Sorry about him," the blond boy says brightly, ignoring him. "I'm Ryugazaki Nagisa. You can call me Nagisa, though. This is Kirishima Jirou. He isn't really awake yet."
"I'm right here," Jirou grumbles. Nagisa goes on as if he hadn't heard, "He doesn't remember what class he's in, and I wasn't here yesterday for the opening ceremony, so we're trying to find the faculty rooms. Jirou doesn't have a sense of direction, though, so I think we're lost. What's your name?"
"First door on the left, downstairs," Michi says, trying to keep up with the stream of chatter. Both boys stare at her. She flushes. "The faculty rooms, I mean," she stammers. "I'm trying to find them, too. I don't know my class number either. I'm Tachibana Michi," she adds belatedly, and blushes all over again.
"Really?" Nagisa seizes her hands and beams at her. "Want to come with us?"
One of the girls behind Michi makes a strangled sound. The tall boy opens his mouth to protest. Michi beats him to it. "Sure!"
"Great!" Nagisa seems to notice the girls behind Michi for the first time. He flashes them a friendly smile, still holding both of Michi's hands. "Downstairs, right?"
"Um – "
"Let's go!"
Michi risks a glance back over her shoulder. Two of the girls are still swooning from Nagisa's smile. The third looks murderous. She clutches Nagisa's hand and hurries after him. The tall boy trails behind them, glaring at her back. "I'm not lost," he grumbles.
"Don't mind Jirou. He's always this grumpy in the morning."
"Oh. Okay."
"Shut up, Nagisa."
Michi doesn't look back at him. Her cheeks are still warm.
This is a weird dream.
Nagisa leads them straight to the faculty offices. Michi hovers behind him as the teacher flips through the class lists. "Ryugazaki, you said?"
"Yes sir!"
"Right. You're in class 1-A. So are Kirishima-san and Tachibana-san." The teacher closes the binder. "Ichijo-kun, could you show them to class?"
"Of course." A boy emerges from behind the row of filing cabinets. The world sways pleasantly around Michi. Like the others, he's inhumanely pretty for a middle schooler. His dark green eyes crinkle as he smiles at them. "I'm Ichijo Kaname, the president of class 1-A. It's nice to meet you. Shall we go?"
Nagisa chatters on the way, introducing them all. "And this is Michi-chan," he finishes, patting Michi enthusiastically on the back. Kaname smiles wryly. "Yes. Hello, Michi-chan." There's an odd note to his voice, almost teasing. Michi doesn't have time to wonder about it, because Kaname is ushering them all into the classroom, and she almost trips over her own feet as a blur of blonde curls and green eyes practically tackles her.
"There you are!" Sayuri half-yanks her over to the second row of desks by the far window. "I was about to go look for you. Class is about to start! Did you get lost again?"
"She forgot which class she was in," Kaname says, taking the seat behind them. The odd note is in his voice again.
"I shouldn't have left you alone." Sayuri sighs. "Thanks for finding her, Kaname."
"Thanks," Michi mumbles.
The warning bell rings. Chairs clatter as students start to settle down. Michi sees Nagisa and his friend sit down in the center aisle across from them. Jirou still looks grumpy. Nagisa sees her and waves, beaming. The girls in front of her squeal. "Kyaa!"
Michi glances over her shoulder, curious, and hastily turns back around. The black-haired boy she'd bumped into earlier is sitting directly behind her. He doesn't seem to notice. Like everyone else, he's staring at her seatmate.
"So what happened?" Sayuri whispers, oblivious to the stares. Michi shifts uncomfortably as heads swivel towards her. "Nothing," she whispers back. "Just got lost."
Sayuri shakes her head. "Silly," she says affectionately. "You'd lose your head if it wasn't attached."
"You sound like my mom," Michi mumbles. Sayuri wrinkles her nose. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize." Michi opens her mouth to ask how she knows the class president already, but the sound of the door sliding open interrupts her. The teacher looks around at the rows of expectant faces and grimaces apologetically.
"Sorry, everyone," he says breathlessly, trying to fix his tie with one hand. Michi bites the inside of her cheek. She hadn't thought she was the kind of person who daydreamed about their homeroom teacher, but the man standing in front of the board is almost as pretty as the boys sitting around her. He looks young, his dress shirt rumpled, his dark hair losing its slicked-back appearance. He runs a hand over it, trying vainly to flatten it again. "I'm Shishio Mamura. I'll be your homeroom teacher for this year." He looks over at Kaname. "Class president?"
"All rise," Kaname says. Michi looks around as chairs clatter. The faces of her other classmates aren't blurred, the way they usually are in dreams. Everyone else looks normal: dark hair, dark eyes, all the usual shapes and sizes. Compared to the five people surrounding her, though, they all blur together. The four boys and Sayuri shine like some hidden spotlight is fixed on them.
Michi suddenly remembers her reflection in the mirror. How small and ugly she looked in the exotic black-and-white uniform.
She knows it's just a dream, but it would have been nice to have been the pretty one for once…
Chairs scrape as they all sit back down. The teacher starts to lecture. Michi wriggles in her seat. All of this is just reminding her that she actually has to go to school when she wakes up.
Her eyelids start to droop. She rests her cheek on one hand and watches the teacher scribble on the blackboard. Sayuri is listening intently, tapping her pencil against her chin as she takes notes. Michi closes her eyes.
And then the dream shifts.