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Misaki Mei -

Mei didn’t turn. She knew the voice—it was light, melodic, and shouldn’t have been there. It belonged to her twin sister, Misaki Fujioka, who had been gone for months. But in this town, "gone" was a relative term.

“It’s a pointless tragedy,” Mei murmured, her voice lost to the wind. “But the show must go on.” Misaki Mei

She adjusted the white patch over her left eye. Beneath it lay the glass eye her mother, Yukiyo, had crafted—a doll’s eye that could see what others couldn't: the Color of Death . Lately, the hue wasn't just clinging to people; it was seeping into the very architecture of the school, pooling around the empty desks of Class 3-3. Mei didn’t turn

Mei finally looked back, but the doorway was empty. Only a single, stray feather from a crow drifted onto the wet concrete. She thought of Kouichi Sakakibara, the transfer student who had broken the rules by talking to her. He was the only one who saw her as more than a ghost, yet his kindness was the very thing pulling the thread of the curse tighter. But in this town, "gone" was a relative term

The rain in Yomiyama never feels like water; it feels like weight. Mei Misaki stood on the rooftop of North Yomi Middle School, her black hair whipping against her eyepatch in the sudden gale. In her hands, she held a sketchpad, though the page remained blank. “You’re still looking for it, aren’t you?”

She lifted her eyepatch just a fraction. The world shifted. The vibrant green of the distant mountains turned into a bruised, sickly purple. She saw the "extra" person clearly now, standing in the middle of the schoolyard below. They were laughing with friends, unaware that they were a hollow shell, a dead person who had forgotten they had died.

“The class thinks ignoring you will keep them safe,” the voice of the sister she lost whispered from the shadows of the doorway. “They think if you don't exist, the Calamity won't either.”