The fog had not lifted for three days.
It clung low across the village, soaking fields and rooftops alike. People said it was just late spring acting strange. Others muttered about bad weather and poor harvests. But for Minakawa Souta, the mist was more than atmospheric.
It was a veil. And something had shifted behind it.
Souta walked the narrow corridor of Hoshinaka Senior High School, the soles of his shoes whispering against old linoleum. The building had been modestly renovated a decade ago, but time still clung to its walls. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, flickering just a little more often than they used to.
He had just finished a low-key lab with Takeshi, Yamada, and Kana. Nothing unusual on the surface—discussions on soil acidity, journaling leaf textures—but the way the three had taken over the process, filled the board with diagrams, exchanged theories in half-finished sentences... it was like watching a higher wavelength of learning ripple through the room.
Yet today, Souta's steps weren't taking him toward his classroom. Instead, they led him to the administrative block, up a flight of stairs and into a quieter wing of the school.
He stopped at the frosted glass door that read:
Principal's Office
He knocked twice.
"Come in," said a voice, warm but firm.
He opened the door.
Principal Ryoko Shibata looked up from a neatly stacked pile of documents. Her office was small but uncluttered, with an old bonsai tree perched beside the window and a calligraphy scroll on the far wall that read: Shin ni kike — Listen to the heart.
"Minakawa-sensei," she greeted, gesturing for him to sit. "I was expecting you."
Souta raised an eyebrow. "Was I that predictable?"
"Not predictable," Shibata said with a smile. "Just punctual. And I've seen the staff room schedule. You're free this period."
He nodded and took a seat.
For a moment, the room was quiet except for the ticking of the wall clock.
"There's something odd happening," Shibata began, folding her hands neatly. "Not just in school. In the village. You've felt it too, haven't you?"
Souta didn't answer immediately.
Outside, the fog pressed against the windows like a soft wall.
"I've noticed," he said at last. "Animals behaving strangely. Power outages. Even dreams. A few students mentioned vivid ones."
Shibata leaned back slightly, studying his face. "You think it's coincidence?"
He considered his answer. Then shook his head.
"No."
She nodded once, as if he'd passed a silent test.
"I've been head of this school for thirteen years," she said. "And in all that time, I've never seen a shift in student behavior like the one I've seen this month."
Souta stayed silent.
"You know who I'm referring to."
Still silent.
Shibata rose from her chair, walked to the window, and pushed it open slightly. Mist curled inward like curious fingers.
"Yamada. Kana. Takeshi. They're not just improving academically. They've become... magnetic. Students follow them. Teachers ask fewer questions. It's like they've stepped onto another track entirely."
She turned to him.
"And you're at the center."
Souta let out a breath.
"I'm guiding them. That much is true. But I haven't forced anything. They chose their paths."
"And yet," Shibata said gently, "you've made it easier for them to walk it."
He met her eyes. "What are you asking me?"
She paused. Then:
"Is it safe?"
That gave him pause.
He looked past her, into the fog-draped mountains beyond the school.
"It is... contained," he said. "But what's happening around us isn't isolated. The village is changing. And I believe it's connected to something buried deep. Something old."
"How old?"
"Before recorded history."
A silence fell.
Then Shibata walked back to her desk and unlocked a drawer.
She pulled out a file. Thick, yellowed, sealed in plastic. She placed it between them.
"This is from the old records," she said. "My grandfather was the school's principal during the war. He wrote about strange fogs back then, too. About students who 'dreamed of stars they could not name.'"
Souta stared at the file.
"You've read this before?"
"Only once. When I was a new teacher. I didn't understand it. I still don't. But something tells me you do."
He looked up.
And for the first time, he felt the line between ally and bystander shift.
That evening, after the final bell had long rung, Souta stood behind the school's maintenance shed. The students were gone. The teachers, too.
Only fog and silence remained.
He pulled open his system interface.
[Host: Minakawa Souta]
Age: 39
Biological Cap: 53 Years
Brain Processing Power: 1.1x
Life Points: 2.5
Followers: 3
He tapped once.
[Follower: Yamada Koji]
Brain Power: 0.8x
Life Points: 1.8
Link Quality: Strengthening
[Follower: Kana Ishikawa]
Brain Power: 0.7x
Life Points: 1.0
Link Quality: Stable
[Follower: Takeshi Murata]
Brain Power: 0.55x
Life Points: 0.9
Link Quality: Stable
He closed the panel.
The fog pressed closer.
But inside, Souta felt clearer than ever.
Principal Shibata was now aware. And though she didn't know the full truth, she had accepted part of it.
Tomorrow, the roots would go deeper.
And the fog—however thick—would not stop them.