May 3rd, 2018
The jolt almost topples her out of her seat. Michi bolts upright. Sayuri gives her a quizzical look. Shishio-sensei goes on talking as if nothing happened.
Michi presses a hand over her thudding heart. That time was worse than the others. It felt as if the world had flattened and reshaped itself around her. She takes a deep breath and looks around. Nothing has changed. No one else seems to have noticed the fabric of reality warping around them. The boy to her right is still sneaking glances at Sayuri. His seatmate is tapping his pencil rhythmically on his paper. The girl in front of her is whispering to her neighbor. "Oh. My. God. We have Prince Jirou in our class!"
"I know! So lucky!" her seatmate squeals, not bothering to lower her voice.
A girl a row across from Michi speaks up. "Isn't he the son of that famous CEO?"
"OMG, soooo hot!" her friend sighs. Michi sneaks a glance at Jirou. He's frowning down at his notes. Shishio-sensei rambles on, blissfully unaware of the conversation growing louder behind him.
"Is that Prince Tatsuya?"
"Isn't he that famous prince from Cross Elementary?"
"He's sooo mysterious. My friend says he never talks to girls, ever!"
Michi grimaces. She knows what's going on now. Every shoujo anime has it. She's never thought about how weird it is until now.
"The class president is super cute!"
"Maybe we can ask him to help us with our homework?"
"Oh my gosh, can you imagine?"
"That's Prince Nagisa! I heard he's secretly a genius!"
"My older brother says he has perfect recall!"
"Oh my gosh, that's so cool!"
"I know, right?"
A boy joins the whispers. "Who's she?"
"That's Ichijo Sayuri. I heard she entered as valedictorian."
"No way. She's super cute!"
"I know! Dude, I wanna ask her out so bad."
Michi glances at Sayuri. She's still blissfully oblivious. Michi groans inwardly and goes back to staring out the window.
"As you can see, with the introduction of the Industrial Revolution," Shishio-sensei says blandly in the background.
The girl in front of Michi leans her chair against Michi's desk. "Hey," she whispers. "You came in with the Princes, right? Do you know them?"
"No," Michi says quickly. "I just bumped into them in the hall. Never met them before."
"Aww." The girl flips her long dark hair over her shoulder. She's pretty, in a fair, thin kind of way, with a narrow little face and big, darkly-lashed brown eyes. "That's too bad. The only ones who seem to know them are that crazy fan club group. The Prince Tatsuya Protection Squad."
"Yeahhh…"
"Still," the girl leans forward and lowers her voice, "I can kinda get it, y'know? Especially Prince Jirou."
"Yeahhh…"
The girl flashes her a smile. "I'm Tsubara Aiko, by the way. What's your name?"
"Tachibana Michi." Michi glances nervously at the front of the room, but Shishio-sensei is still talking to the blackboard. Sayuri shifts besides her. "We shouldn't be talking during class," she whispers. Michi blushes. "Sorry."
Aiko gives Sayuri a long, critical look. "Sorry," she mutters, and turns back around. Her seatmate, a tall girl with blonde streaks in her hair, leans over to whisper in her ear. Aiko rolls her eyes and nods. The other girl twists to glower at Sayuri. If Sayuri notices, she doesn't show it. She's gone back to taking notes.
Michi gingerly relaxes again. The conversation has died out, its indirect character introduction complete. The boy to her right adjusts his glasses. Aiko flips her long hair over her shoulder. She sees Michi watching and winks. Michi hastily drops her gaze, her ears pink.
She waits all class for the dream to shift again, but nothing changes. Shishio-sensei goes on talking about the Industrial Revolution, and girls sneak blushing glances at the princes, and boys sneak blushing glances at Sayuri, and Sayuri takes notes, and Michi watches it all with vague, dreamlike detachment, and waits for the world to crumple and twist around her. It never does.
The lunch bell jerks her out of her daze. She looks up into icy grey-blue eyes.
"Oh. You're the lost girl," Jirou says dispassionately, recognizing her. His gaze flickers over to her seatmate. "Ichijo Sayuri?"
Michi closes her mouth with a snap. Sayuri looks up calmly from her lunchbox. "Can I help you?"
Jirou folds his arms across his chest. "I heard you entered at the top of the class," he says, ignoring Michi completely. She shrinks down in her seat. Behind her, the class president looks up sharply. Prince Tatsuya opens one eye sleepily.
Sayuri doesn't seem intimidated. "Yes. Why?"
"Enjoy the spot while it lasts. You got lucky this time, that's all." Jirou smirks. "I'll show you how inferior you actually are."
Michi gapes up at him. Sayuri doesn't bat an eye. "Who says it's luck?" She smiles sweetly. "I look forward to your…attempt."
Jirou scoffs. "I– "
"Hi!" Nagisa shoves him out of the way. "I'm Ryugazaki Nagisa, but you can call me Nagisa." He thrusts a hand at Sayuri. "What's your name?"
"…Ichijo Sayuri," Sayuri says, bemused. Nagisa shakes her hand enthusiastically. "It's really nice to meet you, Sayuri-chan! This is Jirou. No one ever talks back to him like that, cause he's super rich and scary. You must be really brave!"
"I'm right here," Jirou growls. Nagisa ignores him. "Hi, Michi-chan!" he says, noticing her in Jirou's shadow. "Remember me?"
Sayuri looks at her curiously. Michi manages a shrug before Nagisa barrels on. "We met in the hallway earlier! Remember, you were lost and we were lost and– "
"I remember," Michi says hastily. Jirou snorts. "It was an hour ago, Nagisa. Just because you have a ridiculously good memory doesn't mean everyone else has the retention span of a goldfish."
"I know!" Nagisa says brightly. "Although, Jirou, didn't you forget which class– "
"I'm hungry. Let's go." Jirou drags him off, hand clamped firmly over the shorter boy's mouth. Nagisa wriggles. "You guys wanna come to the cafet– "
"Absolutely not."
"Aww, Jirou, I'm trying to make friends."
"No, you're ingratiating yourself with the enemy, you moron."
"Aww." Nagisa waves as Jirou hauls him out the door. "Bye, Sayuri-chan!"
Michi watches his shoes vanish from view. There's a low chuckle behind her. "Making enemies already, Yuri?"
Sayuri shrugs. "I guess," she says. "Do you know them, Kaname?"
"Kirishima and Ryugazaki? No. They seem friendly enough, though." The class president taps his seatmate on the shoulder. "Tatsuya, did you bring a lunch?"
The black-haired boy shakes his head. Kaname nods and stands. "Cafeteria it is. Sayuri, do you want anything?"
Sayuri shakes her head. Kaname glances at Michi and raises his eyebrows.
She stares at him blankly. Sayuri nudges her. "Do you want anything?"
"Oh! No, thanks."
"Alright." Kaname slings his bag over his shoulder. "Coming, Tatsuya?"
Tatsuya nods. Michi watches them file out, bemused. Does everyone here know each other…?
She smacks her forehead. Duh. It's a dream. She sighs. I want to wake up now…
Warm fingers brush her bangs aside. Sayuri frowns. "You don't feel feverish," she says. "Are you feeling okay? You've been really out of it all day."
"Yeah. Just tired." Michi shakes her head, trying to wake herself up. Sayuri doesn't look convinced. "How late did you stay up?" she asks.
"Um…" Michi squints. "Late." She changes the subject quickly. "So you know those guys?"
Sayuri blinks. "Kirishima and Ryugazaki? No, I just met them, remember?" She taps Michi's forehead. "Are you sure you're awake, Mich?"
"No," Michi says. "Not really. I think I'm still asleep, actually."
Sayuri laughs. "Wake up, sleepyhead," she says, nudging her playfully. "Come on, pull out your lunch. Maybe food will wake you up."
Her fried rice smells amazing. Sayuri watches like a contented mother, chin propped on one palm, while she devours the entire bento. She's never had a sense of smell in a dream before. Or taste, come to think of it. Michi chews thoughtfully. Yep, definitely taste.
The breeze from the cracked window ruffles her hair. She can smell the heavy lilac tang of the cherry blossoms outside. The sunlight outlines every hair on Sayuri's golden head. Her green eyes are uncannily luminescent as she smiles, perfect pink lips curling upwards.
The first niggle of doubt comes creeping in. Michi looks down. Her own hands are reassuringly familiar on the sleek wood of the desk. Her skin is still pale from the winter months, her fingers long and thin, the back of her hands and wrists speckled with freckles here and there.
She takes a deep breath and closes her fingers over her palms, grounding herself in them.
Just a dream.
Afternoon classes blur by. The boys finally stop craning their heads to stare at Sayuri. The girls stop whispering about the princes. There's only Shishio-sensei's quiet voice over the gentle scratch of pencils and the sleepy after-lunch haze of the clock ticking down the minutes.
The sunlight filtering through the window is warm on Michi's cheek. Sayuri's knee taps gently against hers. For a few sleepy hours, she forgets she's dreaming.
They walk home together. Sayuri is oddly quiet. She keeps giving Michi concerned glances out of the corner of her eye. Michi finds herself rambling, trying to fill the awkward silence. She has plenty to talk about: one of the bolder boys, trying to pass Sayuri a note during geometry class, had managed to hit her squarely on the back of the head. Shishio-sensei hadn't noticed that, or saw her flinch awake so hard she almost toppled off her seat, but everyone heard Nagisa giggle. Michi, mortified, stayed hunched so low in her seat for the rest of the day that her back still aches.
They stop in front of their apartments. Michi breaks off mid-chatter.
"Get some rest, okay?" Sayuri squeezes her hand. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"See you then."
Mom is frying mackerel in the kitchen when she comes in. "Have a good first day?" she asks, looking up from the stove. Michi nods. "Hey, Mom," she says casually, slipping off her shoes, "How long have the Ichijo's lived across from us?"
"Oh, goodness." Mom pauses to brush a stray hair away with her wrist. "They must have moved in when you were only a toddler. Their oldest son used to babysit you, remember?"
"Oh." Michi dumps her backpack at her feet and wanders around the counter. Mom plucks a curling strip of mackerel off the stove. "Why?"
"Just curious." Michi stands on tiptoe to reach a cup.
"If you're making tea, add some hot water for me," Mom says.
"I will." Michi adds water and wanders back over to pick up her backpack. "Call me down when it's dinner time."
"Starting study habits early?" Mom raises an eyebrow. "Good for you. Dinner will be in about half an hour."
"Okay."
Her room is awash in the late afternoon glow. Michi sets her backpack on her bed, moves mechanically through the ritual of changing into sweatpants and folding her uniform neatly over the chair, and sits down at her desk.
The homework is only a couple of worksheets, but she can't get her mind to focus. The niggling doubt from earlier has taken root. Her thoughts keep circling vaguely back to it.
She sets down her pencil with a sigh. Of course it's a dream, her sensible self says. People like that don't actually exist. No one really acts like that. Princes and crazy fan clubs and gorgeous heroines – none of that's real. Dreams just always feel real when you're in them.
But that's because you never think you're dreaming, the doubt whispers.
Michi blows out her breath and reaches over for her laptop. Only one way to put the doubts to rest.
The screen blinks to life. It's her dad's old work laptop, so starting it up takes forever. She groans and goes downstairs to get her tea.
"Dinner's in ten minutes," Mom says. Michi fishes the tea bag out of her cup. The smell of fried mackerel and rice is making her mouth water. "Okay." She hesitates. "Hey, Mom?"
"Hmm?"
"Have you ever had a really, really real dream? Like you can smell and taste and everything?"
Mom frowns. "What, like lucid dreaming? Knowing you're in a dream and all that?"
"Yeah, but like…it's really real. Like you know you're dreaming, but it doesn't feel like a dream."
Mom shrugs. "I'm sure it can happen."
"Oh." Michi sags a little. "That's good."
"Strange child," Mom sighs. She leans across the counter and tweaks Michi's nose. "You're not dreaming now, you know. Here, put these on the table. Can you let your father know it's almost time for dinner?"
Michi takes the stack of bowls automatically. "But how do you know?"
"Know what?"
"That I'm not dreaming."
"Because this is real, silly," Mom says. "Go tell your father."
Michi looks up into her frank dark eyes. She swallows hard. "Okay."
The laptop has finished booting up. Michi pulls up the search bar, types, fumbles, deletes the word, and tries again.
Yukigaoka Junior High.
The elementary school pops up. She scrolls down. District events, nearby elementary schools…No sign of Yukigaoka Junior High.
She types in Rose Academy. The page takes a moment to load.
Prestigious private academy, home of Japan's elites…
News headlines flash.
Heir to Local Corporate CEO Attending Respected Local Private School
Child Model Saito Tatsuya at Rose Academy
Kirishima Heir to Attend Rose Academy
She stares at the screen. Her fingers fumble over the keyboard.
Shoujo anime.
The screen pops up. We could not find any matches for shoujo anime. Try anime instead?
Slowly, she types out Rose Academy Princes.
Princes of Rose Academy at Top of Popularity Rankings...
Junior High Popularity Rankings: #1 Princes of Rose Academy…
She pinches herself, hard, and yelps. Blood rushes back to her wrist. The glowing laptop screen is still loading sites. She slams it shut.
"Dinner!" Mom calls from downstairs.
Michi takes a deep breath. Her wrist still stings.
This isn't a dream…