text: “What is the color of your soul?” -- Hh...?! A voice called to him. He turned his head toward it, yet a sharp nothingness filled the room once more; a deep quiet, a silence almost cold. In the quiet, he sat there, at his desk, head looking as if to somewhere far away, as he waited for the voice once more-- for that clear, bright, melodious voice of a young girl; so clear, so beautiful, it was almost sad... But no matter how long he waited in the silence-- her voice resounded no more... He was alone in the classroom, sitting at the only desk in the middle of the room; wearing his black, junior high-school uniform, his hair slightly unkempt. There was nothing else in the classroom, it was all empty-- the blackboard clean, yet seeming dusty; the boards clear, without a note or anything pasted on it; and every desk and chair except his vanished from the floor, including the teacher’s desk in front. It was just him, and him alone-- and there, his head turned to his left, gazed upward... The cold sun glowing pale over him-- he stayed there. Waiting... “Um, Morita...?” “... Hm? ” A voice called him. A different voice. It was softer, with an air of shyness curled into her little chest; and, just hearing it... it filled him with a sense of warmth, a sense of closeness and comfort, of familiarity... His vision flickered-- as if rippling blue-- as a blue butterfly crossed his sight... But just then-- “Morita?” She called again. “ Huh? ” He’d just woken up... Glancing around, he saw that the desks and chairs had all returned, lined up in fine rows, front to back; the teacher’s desk was in front, and gathering near it was a group of girl, laughing, gossiping-- as the sun, a deep, warm orange and gold, colored the room even through the still curtains... “Ah, Morita. You’re awake.” As if just noticing her, he turned to her-- but, looking up at her; he couldn’t see her face... It was as if it were just too dark... as a shadow hung over her features... He tried concentrating, but her features remained hidden; the girls in front were the same... All he could see were their lips... Just then, the girl in front of her parted her lips and spoke, “It’s late. Come on, let’s go home.” And, with just that, she turned away and walked toward the door. Blinking, shaking his head-- he stood up from his seat and grabbed his bag. Then, pushing his chair in, he went after her out the door... Had he been dreaming...? He wondered so, yet couldn’t find an answer. He simply didn’t know. He tried going through his memories-- yet his mind was blank; it’s as if the concept of ‘memories’ itself had ceased to exist-- no, it’s as if the concept had simply never existed in the first place... He didn’t know what happened before, nor did he know anything else. All he knew was that his name’s Morita... Even then, it was because that girl had called him so; though he didn’t know her or who she is... The furthest extent of his knowledge of her was that she knew his name, and that’s it; besides that, he could only assume that she was a shy person from the sound of her voice... Just then-- her voice returned to him... And, at once, he remembered her words and froze in his steps as it sounded through his mind once more. What is the color of your soul...? In his mind, it sounded blurrier, sounding as if muffled in the folds of his ‘memory.’ But one thing that truly came through was that feeling... It was as if some distant bell had sounded-- its weight reverberating in the air, feeling like a cold wave sending shudders up his back... Even now, he could still feel it even in his feet... The moving, soul-bending effect of her voice... resounding, like metal, of emotion... Of feeling... “Morita?” “Ah-” Returning to reality, he looked up and saw her standing there, meters away from him, turned toward him... founding him there, frozen still... “Come on.” “Ahh... yeah...” Feeling a cold sigh escape his chest, he shook his head and went on after her. Walking behind her, he couldn’t help but gaze at her back-- at the movement and gentle sway of her black hair, left and right, as she walked; at the hem of her skirt, quietly tinged in the soft glow of the sun; and at the quiet, little sway of her hips to every step. Somehow, here, painted against the light, against the unknown-- she felt moving, as if just looking at her were enough to sway his heart... It was, in a way, like watching a strip of film move through a projector, seeing each still frame move into the light; he didn’t know what the film looked like and he wouldn’t know unless he looked up to the screen, and yet he kept looking on at the moving pictures speeding through, frame after frame, as if he were bound in its spell and mystery, in its movement. And, somehow, he liked it that way... It was like watching the world move round... Still, he didn’t know who this girl was-- her name, her person, her family: nothing, he still didn’t know a thing. And yet, even so, he was looking at her-- looking as if, just by observing her alone, he would soon, somehow, piece together the whole of who she was... But just then, in a blink-- she turned a faint, scarlet red... And disappeared into the light... And before he knew it-- -- Hh-?? He was back in that class; everything empty, everything quiet... And somehow, he felt as if he had lost a part of himself somewhere in a distant world he didn’t know nor could reach... What happened...? Had it all been just a dream...? Eyes blank, unfocused-- he seemed to be about to pass out, as his skin, quickly, turned pale... But just then, he hears that voice once more... “ What is the color of your soul...? ” His vision blurred and faded-- everything turning blue; along with his pupils... A bright, azure blue... But at that very moment-- everything turned black... as a distant sound pierced his mind... Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing----!!!! “ Hh--?!? ” Waking up, Morita found himself in bed, cold sweat all over his forehead, as he hid his face in his palm and shook his head...