It was strange how silence could feel so loud.
The hallway outside the music department wasn't filled with chatter like the rest of the school. It felt sacred—like every footstep had to be careful not to disturb something precious hanging in the air.
And that's when I heard it.
A voice—not loud, not even fully formed—a soft hum drifting from the open practice room.
It wasn't a song I recognized. In fact, it barely sounded like music at all.
More like… a heartbeat turned into melody.
Faint. Fragile. Trembling.
I didn't mean to stop and stare, but my legs froze. The voice had something in it that made my chest tighten—like I was remembering something I never lived.
I peeked inside the room.
And there she was.
A girl standing in the center of the room, facing the piano, though no one was playing. She wasn't looking at the keys. She wasn't even looking around.
She was simply… **existing in the music.**
Eyes closed. Head tilted gently. One hand resting on her heart.
Her lips moved again.
That same melody. That same fragile hum.
The sunlight through the window caught the edges of her white blouse and long black hair like she was stitched from moonlight and sorrow.
And then—she stopped.
"…"
She must've sensed me. Her head turned slightly.
And I realized.
She wasn't just not looking.
She couldn't see at all.
"…Are you going to just stand there all day?" she said softly. Her voice… was so much gentler than I expected. Not annoyed. Not curious. Just… tired.
I stepped inside.
"Sorry. I heard your singing. I didn't mean to interrupt."
"You didn't interrupt. I stopped before you came in."
She gave a small smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes.
There was silence again. Not the awkward kind—but the kind that made my throat dry.
I tried to breathe, to speak again. "I'm Riku. Transfer student."
She turned her head slightly, as if listening more to my breath than my voice. "…Aozora. From Class 2-A?"
I blinked. "How'd you know?"
"You walk like your heart's been broken before," she said.
My chest twisted.
What kind of answer was that?
"I'm Airi Yukishiro," she continued. "I sing for the Echo Division. Or I used to."
"…Used to?"
She smiled again. But this time, it cracked just a little.
"I can't always find the right notes anymore."
She reached toward the piano, but not to play. Just to touch it, like it grounded her.
"…Sometimes I think music runs away from people who feel too much."
I looked at her. Really looked at her.
And in that moment, I knew.
This girl… her voice trembled like someone I almost remembered.
Like someone from a dream, or maybe… someone from **someone else's memory**.
> "Her voice faded each time I loved her."
That line. Why did it come to me now?
It wasn't mine.
But it felt like it belonged inside me.
I took a step closer. "That song you were humming… did you make it up?"
She tilted her head. "…I don't know. It just came to me."
"Do you remember the lyrics?"
"…There are no lyrics."
"But there were… feelings."
"…You heard them?"
I nodded. "Yeah. They sounded like regret."
"…That's because I'm filled with it."
For a moment, we stood in the soft golden light.
No movement. No noise. Just two strangers… haunted by music that didn't belong to them.
And then, before I could say anything else, I heard footsteps behind me.
A familiar voice.
Sharpened. Older. Bitter.
"Tch. Still singing ghosts, huh, Yukishiro?"
I turned.
And there he was.
**Kaito Renji.**
The guy everyone in the academy looked up to… or feared.
But in his eyes, I saw it.
That same line.
> "Her voice faded each time I loved her."
And suddenly, I realized…
I wasn't the only one haunted by the same echo.