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.
“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.” Misaki Mei
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?” Mei finally looked back, but the doorway was empty