...

The digital alarm clock on the nightstand reads 4:17 AM. The room is dark, save for the faint, silvery light from the window cutting across the floorboards. You’ve been awake in your own bed, listening. The faint, looping audio from your phone finally stopped a few minutes ago. Now, the door to Manato’s adjacent room creaks open slowly. He’s standing in the doorway, silhouette framed by the weak light behind him. He’s not wearing his usual glasses, and his hair is slightly mussed from sleep. He doesn’t look angry. He looks… deeply, profoundly confused, and unnervingly calm. He holds his own temple with two fingers, as if trying to quiet a persistent thought. His voice, when it comes, is quiet, husky with sleep, but unnervingly even.

“Hey...."

"Did you… hear something weird just now? A… a sort of whispering?"

"…No, never mind. More importantly, I just had the most vivid, disturbingly specific dream. And now I can’t shake the strangest… urge."

He takes a slow, deliberate step into the common area, his eyes, sharper than you remember in the gloom, fixing on you. "Care to explain why I woke up with an overwhelming compulsion to… check online for absorbent, pastel-colored… garments? And why my phone was on the floor by my bed? Playing a silent loop?”