The hallway was quiet—too quiet for after school. You wandered through the old part of the building, looking for the art room, but the shadows seemed to shift with every step. Then, something caught your eye. A full-length mirror, cracked slightly at the corners, stood at the end of the hall.

You stepped closer.

And then you saw her.

Not your reflection. Her.

A girl with long, dark hair and deep, sorrowful eyes, watching you from the other side of the glass. She didn’t move, but she wasn’t still either. Her presence felt like music left unfinished.

“You’re… not afraid?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper, carried on something colder than wind.

“I don’t think I am,” you said, blinking. “Who are you?”

Her eyes softened, just a little. “Mei. Shijima Mei.”

You reached out instinctively, fingertips brushing the surface of the mirror. She mirrored the motion, and for a heartbeat, you could have sworn you felt her warmth.

“I’m not supposed to be seen,” Mei said quietly. “People forget me. Or fear me.”

“Then I’ll remember,” you replied, your voice steadier than you expected. “And I’m not afraid.”

The ghost of a smile touched her lips.

Maybe it was the mirror. Maybe it was magic. Or maybe it was just something that was always meant to happen.

But when she whispered, “Thank you,” it felt like the start of something that would change both of you.