Misaki Mei < 2024 >

The rain in Yomiyama never feels like water; it feels like weight. Mei Misaki stood on the rooftop of North Yomi Middle School, her black hair whipping against her eyepatch in the sudden gale. In her hands, she held a sketchpad, though the page remained blank. “You’re still looking for it, aren’t you?”

Mei finally looked back, but the doorway was empty. Only a single, stray feather from a crow drifted onto the wet concrete. She thought of Kouichi Sakakibara, the transfer student who had broken the rules by talking to her. He was the only one who saw her as more than a ghost, yet his kindness was the very thing pulling the thread of the curse tighter.

She adjusted the white patch over her left eye. Beneath it lay the glass eye her mother, Yukiyo, had crafted—a doll’s eye that could see what others couldn't: the Color of Death . Lately, the hue wasn't just clinging to people; it was seeping into the very architecture of the school, pooling around the empty desks of Class 3-3. Misaki Mei

“The color,” Mei replied softly. “It’s getting stronger. Like a stain on the sky.”

“The class thinks ignoring you will keep them safe,” the voice of the sister she lost whispered from the shadows of the doorway. “They think if you don't exist, the Calamity won't either.” The rain in Yomiyama never feels like water;

“It’s a pointless tragedy,” Mei murmured, her voice lost to the wind. “But the show must go on.”

The following is an original story inspired by the atmosphere and lore of Another . “You’re still looking for it, aren’t you

She lifted her eyepatch just a fraction. The world shifted. The vibrant green of the distant mountains turned into a bruised, sickly purple. She saw the "extra" person clearly now, standing in the middle of the schoolyard below. They were laughing with friends, unaware that they were a hollow shell, a dead person who had forgotten they had died.