They say high school is where dreams begin. For me, it was where I first learned how easily dreams could turn into nightmares.
I had no reason to expect anything unusual that day. The classroom buzzed with routine boredom, sunlight filtering through dust-speckled windows. Our homeroom teacher, Mr. Takeda, adjusted his tie and cleared his throat before announcing the arrival of a transfer student. That alone was rare for our rural town. Students didn't move here; they moved away.
The door slid open with a quiet rasp, and she stepped in.
Aiko.
She looked like she belonged in a painting—delicate features framed by straight black hair, a ribbon tied immaculately at her collar. Her eyes, deep and unreadable, scanned the room with quiet calculation. Not shy, not afraid—just... still. She gave a small bow.
"My name is Aiko Shimizu. I hope we'll get along."
A few classmates murmured polite greetings, but something about her voice silenced the room. Soft, yet piercing, like the lull before a storm.
When she sat in the empty seat beside me, I didn't think much of it. Just luck. Coincidence. She looked at me for a long moment, then tilted her head slightly.
"I think we're meant to be."
I blinked. "Sorry, what?"
She smiled faintly, almost like she hadn't said anything at all.
At the time, I laughed it off. I had no idea that those words would brand my entire life.
---
Over the next few weeks, Aiko became a fixture in my life. It was subtle at first. A smile in the hallway. A quiet presence beside me at lunch. She always seemed to know where I'd be before I got there.
Once, I mentioned offhandedly that I liked melon soda. The next day, one was waiting in my locker. The brand I liked. The exact flavor.
She never said she left it.
But I knew.
Our classmates adored her. She was polite, helpful, always the first to volunteer. When she aced every test and swept the art competition, teachers praised her brilliance. Girls envied her grace. Boys admired her beauty.
And yet... no one really knew her.
Except, somehow, me.
I didn't ask for that closeness. But it clung to me, like a scent that wouldn't wash off.
---
It started to shift when I gave another girl my number.
Her name was Emi, and she was bright and bubbly, a childhood friend I'd drifted away from. We started talking again after a group project.
Nothing serious—just innocent texting.
The next morning, I found my bike tires slashed.
At first, I didn't connect the dots. I thought maybe someone had been fooling around. But then I opened my locker and found it.
A frog. Dead. Nails driven through its limbs, pinning it to a piece of red construction paper.
Underneath, in perfect cursive:
"Don't forget who loves you."
I reported it to the school. They called it a prank.
When I told my parents, they shrugged. "Maybe someone's jealous. You're a handsome boy, after all."
Only one person came to mind.
But Aiko?
She smiled like an angel and asked if I was okay. Her concern seemed real.
And that was the most terrifying part.
---
Things escalated slowly, but consistently.
One day, my phone went missing. I tore apart my entire house looking for it. Hours later, it turned up in my locker—wiped clean, except for one contact saved.
Aiko.
When I confronted her, she just tilted her head and asked, "Why would you need anyone else?"
No matter how far I tried to step back, she matched me stride for stride.
She didn't threaten. She didn't shout.
She simply... existed.
Everywhere.
When I looked over my shoulder at the convenience store, she was there, picking up the same snack I just bought. When I left late from cram school, she was waiting under the streetlamp, saying she just happened to be walking home.
Once, I caught her outside my bedroom window. Three stories up.
When I opened the window and asked her what she was doing, she just whispered, "I missed you," and climbed back down the drainpipe.
---
My grades started slipping. I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about those eyes—so calm, so empty, like a mirror that only reflected me.
I tried to tell someone. My friend Haruto listened, frowning.
"Dude, you seriously think she's stalking you?"
"She's everywhere, Haru. She knows everything I do."
He leaned back and crossed his arms. "You need to cut her off. For real. Girls like that... they don't stop. They dig in. Deep."
He didn't say it like a joke.
Haruto had always been the guy who could see through facades. Maybe that's why I trusted him.
But after that day, he started avoiding me. He wouldn't reply to messages. Wouldn't show up at school.
He just vanished.
And Aiko?
She wore black the next day. Said she was mourning.
When the teachers asked who she meant, she just smiled.
I asked her directly.
"What happened to Haruto?"
She looked at me with those hollow, unblinking eyes.
"He didn't understand our love. But don't worry. We're fine now."
She said we.
Like we were one person.
---
Despite everything, I couldn't stop thinking about her. When she wasn't there, I felt uneasy. Unmoored.
Was I losing my mind?
I'd lie awake at night, wondering if she was watching me through the cracks in the blinds.
I started seeing her in my dreams.
Sometimes, she was smiling. Sometimes, she was covered in blood.
But always, she was holding me.
Tight.
Too tight.
---
One day, she touched my hand in class and whispered, "Come to my house."
I should have said no.
But I didn't.
Because part of me—sick, broken—wanted to understand her.
To see what lay beneath the perfect smile.
That was the day everything changed.