Chapter 5: The Reflection Knows My Name

I woke up in my bed.

I didn't remember getting there.

The last thing I recalled was sitting on the train, watching my reflection shift in the window. The faint, lingering voice in my head whispering things I didn't want to hear. And now, somehow, I was here.

My phone was still in my hand, screen dim from inactivity. I turned it on, my thumb moving instinctively to check the time.

2:13 AM.

My heart pounded in my chest, unease curling around my ribs.

Had I walked home? Had I spoken to my sister? Had I—

I closed my eyes, pressing a hand against my forehead.

Calm down. Breathe. Think logically.

This had happened before—small gaps in my memory, moments I couldn't quite account for. I had dismissed them as exhaustion, stress, distractions. Nothing to worry about.

But this was different.

This wasn't just a forgotten conversation or a misplaced book. This was time—hours—that had disappeared completely.

And worst of all, I felt fine.

No headache, no fatigue. My body wasn't sore, my uniform was neatly folded on my chair, and my school bag was placed exactly where I would have left it.

If someone had told me I had just gone to bed normally, I might have believed them.

Except I knew I hadn't.

Because I remembered the train.

And I remembered the voice.

"I can take over, if you want."

I exhaled shakily, gripping my phone tighter.

No.

No, I wouldn't let my thoughts spiral like this.

This wasn't real.

It wasn't.

I forced myself to put my phone down, to lie back against my pillow and close my eyes.

If I slept, if I rested, maybe I would wake up feeling normal again.

Maybe.

The sunlight filtering through my curtains felt harsh against my eyes.

I showered, dressed, and left for school without saying a word to my sister. She would have noticed if something was wrong.

And I wasn't in the mood to be scrutinized.

The train ride passed in a blur. I didn't check my phone, didn't listen to music, didn't even let my gaze linger on my reflection in the window.

By the time I stepped into Sobu High, I had convinced myself that everything was fine.

And for a while, it was.

Classes were normal. My routine was normal. I even had lunch with Yui, who kept up a steady stream of conversation while I nodded in the right places.

But then came the Service Club meeting.

And then came him.

Hikigaya-kun was already in the clubroom when I arrived.

Yui had gone to buy a drink from the vending machine, leaving the two of us alone.

I didn't acknowledge him at first.

I walked in, set my bag down, and sat in my usual seat. I took out a book, flipping through the pages, letting the silence stretch between us.

And yet, I could feel his eyes on me.

Like he was trying to see through my skin.

Like he was searching for something.

Finally, he spoke.

"Who are you today?"

I froze.

The book in my hands felt heavier than before.

Slowly, I lifted my gaze to meet his. "Excuse me?"

His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—sharp, unwavering—held something close to certainty.

"Yesterday, you said you were Yukinoshita," he continued, voice level. "But today, I'm not sure if that's true."

I inhaled softly, steadying myself. "Hikigaya-kun, if this is your idea of a joke, I must say it's quite disappointing."

"You're deflecting."

"I'm humoring you."

"No, you're not," he said, leaning back in his chair. His fingers tapped against the desk absently. "You're pretending that nothing's wrong, but we both know that's not true."

I kept my expression calm. "And what, exactly, do you think is wrong with me?"

He studied me for a moment before answering.

"You don't remember getting home last night, do you?"

My grip on the book tightened.

A cold chill spread through my chest.

I opened my mouth, ready to deny it, but something in his gaze stopped me.

There was no amusement there. No irritation.

Just quiet, careful observation.

He already knew.

I swallowed.

"Did Yui tell you something?" I asked instead, keeping my voice neutral.

"No."

"Then where is this coming from?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Call it a hunch. Or call it the fact that you didn't react to my question the way you normally would."

He was testing me.

And worse?

I had failed.

I let out a quiet breath, willing my pulse to slow. "Hikigaya-kun, if you're so convinced I'm not myself, then who do you think I am?"

I expected him to hesitate.

To waver.

But he didn't.

Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes locking onto mine.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I think you should figure it out before it's too late."

A shiver crawled up my spine.

And for the first time since this all began, I realized something.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer.