Gematrail — Echo Observer — Lævateinn Chapter 3: Echo01 – Spring Sunshine

Read chapter 3 of Gematrail — Echo Observer — Lævateinn by ⛰️ Mt.Kongou_Ragnarok on NovelPedia.

↓↓↓ Click here ↓↓↓ 📀 the soundtrack and theme songs 💿 🎶🎧 Spotify 🎧🎶 track Num : 3 “Yuu-ki! Get up or you’re going to be late!” His mother’s voice detonated right beside his ear, and the shallow drift of sleep was torn away from him without ceremony. He pried open his heavy eyelids. Morning light bled through the gap in the curtains, soft and overexposed. His throat was dry. My name is Ariwara Yuki. I lost my memory in an accident, and starting today, I’m transferring into Meiun High School as a second-year. He splashed water on his face at the sink. The cold ran down his cheeks and dripped from his jaw, and somewhere in that sensation, his brain finally decided to start working. On the wall beside the mirror, a small holographic display hovered in the air — a cluster of luminous particles assembling themselves into the day’s weather forecast and his scheduled departure time, all read aloud in a calm, synthetic voice. Apparently, the school ran on cutting-edge AI instruction, and every student was issued something called a Serei — a personal AI companion device. A convenient age, he thought, though he wasn’t sure he believed it. To someone with no memory to speak of, all of it looked faintly unreal — like a future that belonged to someone else. His mother looked nothing like him. She fussed over him anyway, with a devotion that sometimes struck him as excessive. He smoothed down the worst of his bedhead, grabbed his bag, and opened the front door. Spring air touched his face immediately — light, unhurried, carrying the faint sweetness of the season. And there was Amana. His childhood friend stood at the gate, waiting. Cherry blossom petals drifted past her in the morning light, translucent and unhurried, settling at her feet before lifting away again on the next breath of wind. Each gust stirred the fine strands of her hair and sent a soft ripple through the hem of her skirt. The whole street held that particular restlessness of a first-day-of-term morning — the air itself slightly off-balance, charged with something unnameable. “Oh — morning,” she said, spotting him, and gave a small wave. “Sorry for making you wait.” He quickened his pace toward her. The moment he stepped forward, she smiled — the easy, obvious smile of someone for whom this was simply the natural order of things. Right. This is just how it is. In the weeks right after he’d lost his memory, he used to flinch whenever she stood too close. A reflex he couldn’t explain — her proximity felt natural in a way that unsettled him, her shoulder almost brushing his with every step. But lately, when their shoulders actually touched, he found he could keep walking without breaking stride. Without pulling away. “You were up late last night, weren’t you. Because of the opening ceremony.” She leaned in, peering up at his face. “…” He looked away too quickly. His throat clicked. “Want me to guess what you were doing?” A knowing smile. He turned his head sharply to avoid it. “Sh— shut up…” They fell into step beside each other, following the route toward school. When the path curved along the river, a damp gust came off the water and grazed his cheek, carrying the faint ghost of salt and mud. The young green of a weeping willow filtered the morning sun, casting thin, wavering shadows on the surface below. He was listening to the sound of the current when the memory surfaced, unbidden. A voice from the hospital. Low and a little mournful. — “I knew who you were. Before.” He had never forgotten the way she’d said it. She was the one who had given him somewhere to belong in those first blank weeks — who had handled the small, practical necessities of his existence while his family quietly sidestepped anything to do with the past. She alone had kept him tethered to whoever he had been before. Like an anchor dropped to someone already halfway to the bottom of the sea. “Hey. You were thinking something dirty just now, weren’t you.” “ What — no I wasn’t—!” His voice cracke