Aoi was sitting still in her dim-lit room, with the silent hum of the evening wrapped around her like a shroud. Her eyes were shut, but her mind was wide awake. The dream, too vivid to be brushed aside, came back to her for the umpteenth time: alone in a huge, empty room, she could hear the clicking of chess pieces over the board. The man sitting across from her was someone she had never truly met: someone unknown to her. Black hair, a mind at ease, and a certainty—a kind of unassuming superiority possessed by one who had accomplished something beyond belief.
His hands floated above the pieces as he calculated the next grandmaster's move. There was something unsaid, some kind of challenge hovered in the air like a weight between them, and beyond all of that was something much deeper than the game itself. Aoi had opened her mouth to speak but could not hear her voice in the silence; that dream felt so real, too real, and she felt she'd known him forever; for what reason, she could not fathom.
It slipped rather abruptly from her consciousness, leaving behind an ache, a pull, a dread gnawing away at her insides. The hazy imprint of that boy's concentrated gaze became the backdrop to her haunting fantasies, the dead past of an unfulfilled longing that made her heart race with excitement. She shook her head as if that act would wipe away the existence of this boy. It was only a dream, anyway, but somehow, the feeling just would not leave her.
The following morning found Aoi standing in front of a mirror. Her long, silky black hair slid down her back just enough to accentuate her delicate features. She was a senior high school student, but a certain aura began to envelop that reality-a thought Aoi then had of being an artist, the one who could formulate the world by her drawings, watching it all from the outside, almost like an intruder in her own life. An ill-determined glance flowed to her sketchbook on the desk, fingers trembling to pick it up, an instant to pencil down the dream which had kept haunting her since. But that was not the agenda for today.
The station was over-full, regular for such an early hour, students ever in their uniforms and commuters were rushing past her. She had been accustomed near chaos of the city, of cacophony, of incessant movement. But the sensation poured into her mind as she weeded past the impending dreams; what was the meaning of it? Who was he? And why had he felt so familiar?
Aoi pushed the thoughts away and headed to the platform. The train was going to be in shortly, and she could not afford to miss it. But just in the middle of the rush that is expected, something set her astray.
Lost in distraction, she turned, her bag brushing against someone else's. The jolt that came almost before she saw it scattered her crayons, put away neatly for quick sketches, onto the floor.
Her heart stopped for a second as she knelt, waking embarrassment and irritation fully. She just didn't need this distraction today. But as she was gathering them, a voice equally soft swept into her mind.
"Let me help."
Aoi froze.
She looked up, breath choked back in her throat, and there was Ren. The boy from her dream: there he was standing right before her, the slightly disheveled black hair blown by the breeze, calm steady eyes looking at her. The moment he looked into her eyes, everything else in the world faded. The crowd, the noise, the city—all disappeared, and only the space between them mattered.
Her heart raced, inflamed cheeks. Her dream had been a strange thing, but this one-no, it was different. It was as if the world had somehow conspired to bring him here.
Before waiting for an answer, Ren crouched down to the ground, typically deliberately, almost soundlessly sweeping the crayons off with practiced skill. Aoi could do nothing to scrape together a coherent thought, merely dumbfounded and watching as her heart raced: precision, purpose, just like the dream.
He handed over the last crayon, fingertips grazing hers just slightly.
"There you go," Ren added, softly, but with warmth. "Next time, be careful."
Aoi nodded quickly, her thoughts racing faster than her heart. She was forcing herself to speak, but her mind was a mass of confusion. How could this be happening? Is it even possible? Is this another dream?
"Thank you..." The words slipped from Aoi's mouth, nearly inaudible. She could not manage to hold his gaze for very long; it felt far, far too intense and, quite frankly, foreign.
Ren confirmed it with a nod. Neutral expression but something within those eyes-a silent understanding, almost like he was aware of what she was thinking, even if she was unable to understand it herself.
"Never mind," he said, rising. With that, he seemed to melt into the bustling sea of students. Aoi's gaze lingered a moment longer filled with thoughts she couldn't comprehend.
What's going on? Why did this boy, this stranger from her dream, appear like this in her life? Aoi grew suspicious that this was just a start for something less-than-great.
Aoi stood, petrified, as Ren melted away among the throng. The train pulled in, its horns a distant wail, but on the other hand, Aoi was unable to brush away the memory of their engagement—was this a coincidence, or was it fate?
Only time could tell, yet some deep-in-the-belly stirring began in Aoi that could change everything she thought she knew about herself and the world around her.