Tadashi Kurose stared out the window of his bedroom, the soft hues of the morning sun filtering through the sheer curtains and casting a warm glow on the walls. He let out a long, exaggerated yawn, stretching his arms above his head before slumping back into his chair. The textbooks and notes spread out in front of him were in disarray, testament to the fact that he had been halfheartedly studying for hours now. The last year of high school was supposed to be serious, with everyone buckling down for university exams, but that urgency hadn't quite caught up with Tadashi.
He lazily flipped open his math textbook to a random page, not really caring where he had left off. Numbers and formulas seemed to dance in front of him, as though mocking his lack of focus. His mind wandered, drifting away from the academic burden that had been looming over him for the better part of the year.
"It's fine," Tadashi muttered to himself, leaning back in his chair again. "I've got plenty of time. One more day of high school won't make a difference."
His eyes wandered toward the clock on the wall—6:45 AM. The sharp buzz of his alarm echoed through the room, but Tadashi didn't budge. His routine never seemed to change; he'd wake up with just enough time to get ready, deliberately skip breakfast, and then walk lazily to school as if he had all the time in the world.
By the time Tadashi dragged himself out of bed, threw on his uniform, and stepped out of his house, the streets of the suburban neighborhood were already buzzing with life. Neighbors exchanged pleasantries, shops prepared for the day's business, and groups of students walked in packs, talking excitedly about the upcoming school year.
Tadashi, of course, walked alone, not out of any sense of isolation, but because he enjoyed it that way. His footsteps were slow and deliberate, his gaze wandering lazily across the familiar sights—the local convenience store, the park he used to play at as a kid, the shrine his grandmother took him to on New Year's Day. It was all so routine, so utterly predictable, and yet Tadashi found a strange comfort in it.
As he rounded the corner, he spotted a familiar face waving at him from across the street.
"Tadaaa-shi!" It was his best friend, Yusuke, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of half the street.
Tadashi lifted a lazy hand in greeting, not bothering to increase his pace.
"You're as slow as ever, huh?" Yusuke grinned, falling into step beside him. "It's our last year, man! You gotta show at least some enthusiasm."
Tadashi shrugged, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "What's there to be enthusiastic about? It's just another day."
Yusuke laughed, slapping Tadashi on the back. "Come on, you can't fool me. You're excited about graduating and going to university, right?"
Tadashi tilted his head, contemplating the idea. University seemed so far off, even though it was just around the corner. Sure, he had dreams and ambitions, but they felt hazy—like something distant that he didn't need to worry about yet. The present was far easier to deal with, even if it was mundane.
"I guess," Tadashi said, noncommittal as ever.
"Geez, you're hopeless!" Yusuke rolled his eyes. "You know, most people would kill for a carefree attitude like yours."
"It's not that deep," Tadashi replied, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Life is just… life, you know?"
Yusuke groaned, throwing his hands up in mock frustration. "Fine, fine. Be your usual lazy self. But don't say I didn't warn you when everyone else is ahead of you, already with one foot in the adult world."
Tadashi chuckled softly to himself as Yusuke launched into his usual monologue about their futures—Yusuke always worrying about grades, careers, and the "what-ifs" of life. In contrast, Tadashi found himself drifting through his days, accepting things as they came. He didn't mind that he wasn't the most driven, nor did he care that his friends teased him for it. Life was good, simple, and exactly the way he liked it.
School was the same as always. The hallways were full of excited chatter, some students already talking about upcoming university entrance exams, others lamenting the summer break that had just ended. For Tadashi, it was business as usual. He walked to his classroom and took his seat by the window, the familiar creak of the chair beneath him reminding him just how long he'd been sitting in that same spot.
"Morning, Tadashi!" His classmate, Ayumi, greeted him cheerfully as she slid into the seat in front of him.
Tadashi gave a half-hearted wave. "Morning."
"You look like you didn't get any sleep again," she teased, leaning her chin on her hand.
"I got plenty," Tadashi replied, stifling another yawn. "Just not enough for school."
Ayumi giggled. "Well, you better wake up soon. It's our last year, after all."
"Yeah, yeah. Everyone keeps reminding me."
Ayumi tapped her pen thoughtfully on her desk, her eyes sparkling with a kind of excitement that Tadashi couldn't quite relate to. "Aren't you excited? I mean, after this, it's a whole new chapter! University, new friends, maybe even living on your own. Doesn't that sound fun?"
Tadashi rested his chin on his palm, gazing out the window as if the answer to life's questions were hidden somewhere in the clouds. "I guess. But it's not like I'm in a hurry."
Ayumi rolled her eyes in a good-natured way. "You're impossible, Kurose."
"I try," he said with a faint smile, enjoying the simplicity of their banter.
The day passed in a blur of lectures, idle conversations, and the occasional group project. Tadashi moved through it all with the same lazy grace he always had, his mind never fully tethered to the present but always drifting, as though the currents of life were gently carrying him forward without much effort on his part. He liked it that way.
It was during lunch that Tadashi first noticed something strange. He was sitting with Yusuke and a few other classmates in the courtyard, enjoying the mild autumn breeze. The conversation flowed easily, but Tadashi felt… off.
"You good, man?" Yusuke asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah," Tadashi answered automatically, though his eyes were scanning the area.
He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something felt different—like an itch at the back of his mind. And then, faintly, just barely audible over the noise of the courtyard, he heard it.
"Tadashi…"
He blinked, his head turning sharply as though expecting to see someone standing right behind him. But there was no one. The voice had been so soft, almost like a whisper carried on the wind.
"Tadashi? You okay?" Ayumi's voice brought him back to the present.
"I… thought I heard something," Tadashi muttered, more to himself than to her.
Yusuke shot him a curious look. "Heard what?"
"I don't know. A voice, maybe?" Tadashi shrugged it off, trying to shake the weird feeling that had settled in his chest. "Must've been nothing."
The group exchanged glances but didn't press further, assuming Tadashi was just zoning out as usual. Still, the strange sensation lingered with him for the rest of the day, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.
As the afternoon classes drew to a close, Tadashi could still feel that odd presence in the back of his mind, though he did his best to ignore it. His last class of the day—modern literature—dragged on endlessly, the teacher's voice blending into the dull hum of the air conditioning.
Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. Students began packing up their things, talking excitedly about plans for the weekend or upcoming exams. Tadashi, true to form, took his time gathering his belongings, letting the classroom empty out before he stood.
"Tadashi."
There it was again. This time, the voice was clearer, more distinct—yet still far away, as though it was coming from somewhere just beyond his reach. He froze in place, his eyes scanning the empty classroom.
"Tadashi…"
His heart raced. What the hell was that?
Suddenly, without warning, the floor beneath him seemed to give way. His feet lifted off the ground, and before he could even process what was happening, a blinding white light enveloped him.
"Tadashi!" Yusuke's voice echoed in the distance, but Tadashi couldn't respond. He felt weightless, as if being pulled upward by an invisible force.
The world around him blurred, and for a brief moment, he was suspended in the air, bathed in the bright, inconsistent glow of the light. Then, just as quickly as it had started, the light vanished—along with Tadashi.
The classroom was eerily silent. Yusuke stood frozen, staring at the spot where his friend had just been, disbelief etched on his face. Ayumi rushed into the room, her expression one of panic.
"Where… Where did he go?" she asked, her voice trembling.
No one had an answer.