CH12 Yumi’s Bold Move

This day came out of nowhere. I was just cleaning up the plates from dinner, while Aya, as usual, was absorbed in a game. Every now and then, I’d hear her groan in frustration as she struggled against some boss enemy. It was kind of funny seeing her get worked up over it—her competitive streak shining through.

Suddenly, my phone rang, interrupting the usual quiet. I hurriedly dried my hands, grabbed my phone from the table, and glanced at the screen. "Yumi" flashed across it. Without thinking much, I answered the call, barely noticing that Aya had stopped playing and was now standing beside me, curiously watching.

"Hello?" Yumi's voice came through.

"Yeah, Yumi. What’s up?" I asked, feeling slightly nervous. She rarely called out of the blue like

this.

There was a pause before she spoke again, “Uh... are you free tomorrow?”

I was already feeling exhausted just thinking about tomorrow. I didn’t really feel like going out anywhere, but Yumi was always kind to me. It’s hard to refuse her.

"Uh... yeah. Why?" I replied, trying not to sound too reluctant. That’s when I noticed Aya was

standing closer now, leaning in slightly, clearly listening to every word.

"I wanna take you out," Yumi said, her voice slightly shaky.

Aya's eyes lit up instantly. “Oho... 'take you out,' huh?" she whispered, teasingly.

I nearly fumbled the phone. "Wha... what do you mean?" I stammered into the call, ignoring

Aya’s mischievous grin.

There was another awkward pause on the other end before Yumi blurted out, “Ughh... You’re making this harder for me! I... I meant to ask you on a date! Don’t make me say it twice, it’s embarrassing!" Her voice rose in frustration, clearly flustered.

Aya couldn’t hold back anymore. "Ohooooo... a date with Yumi, huh?" she teased again, leaning

in even closer.

I quickly covered the phone’s microphone, shooting Aya a playful glare. "Hmm... someone’s

jealous?" I whispered, teasing her back.

Aya crossed her arms and gave me a mock-serious look. "Jealous? Me? Pfft, please," she replied, rolling her eyes dramatically, but the little smirk on her face said otherwise. She was clearly enjoying the moment.

Returning to the call, I tried to refocus. “A date, huh?” I mumbled into the phone, still flustered.

"Yeah! So, are you in or what?" Yumi asked, her voice softening, though there was a clear nervous edge.

I hesitated for a second. Aya was watching me closely, her teasing expression now more curious, almost as if she was waiting to see what I’d say. "Yeah... sure," I finally replied, though I couldn’t quite shake off the awkwardness.

"Great!" Yumi said, sounding relieved. "I’ll text you the details later, okay?"

"Yeah, sounds good," I answered, still feeling a bit overwhelmed.

As soon as I hung up, Aya let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Well, look at you... Mr. Popular," she teased again, though there was something softer in her voice now, as if she was trying to gauge my reaction.

"Hey, it’s not like that," I muttered, but I couldn’t help but smile a bit. Aya’s teasing always had a way of lightening the mood, but at the same time, her presence made things more... complicated.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Then what is it? A casual coffee? Or maybe you two are planning to stroll under the moonlight?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "I don’t know... it’s Yumi. She’s probably just being nice."

Aya didn’t respond immediately, instead, she just sat back down on the couch and picked up the game controller. But before she resumed her game, she glanced at me with a knowing smile. "You better make up your mind before it gets too complicated." Then she turned back to her game, but her words lingered in the air.

Morning came, and I was getting ready to head out. As I adjusted my collar in the mirror, Aya's teasing voice floated in from behind.

"Ara ara," she said with a playful tone. "Someone's trying to look cool, huh?"

I rolled my eyes, turning around to face her. "Oh, stop acting like an auntie from a manga. Besides, this is one of the outfits you picked for me, remember?" I shot back with a grin, not letting her mockery get to me. "And look at you. You’re all dressed up too!"

"Auntie?!" she gasped, clearly taken aback. "Wha... Of course! I got bored wearing the same clothes every day." She crossed her arms, pretending to be offended, though I could see right through it. It’s not like anyone else could see her anyway, I thought to myself.

I smiled, taking a good look at her outfit. Aya wore an off-shoulder shirt layered over a camisole, paired with a fluffy skirt that ended just above her knees. It was a bit similar to what Saki had worn that day at the café, but Aya’s playful energy made the look her own.

“Well, it suits you. You look good,” I said, letting the compliment slip naturally.

"Wha..." Aya’s face flushed pink, and she quickly looked away, flustered. "Flattery's not gonna get you anywhere," she muttered, her voice growing quieter with each word. She kept her gaze averted, still blushing as she pretended to adjust her skirt.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. Seeing her like this—so alive despite her situation—made my heart feel lighter.

We headed out. For Yumi, this was a date for two. But for me, it was more of a group date, with Aya always by my side, bound to me in a way that made us inseparable. As much as I tried to see it as a normal outing, there was no ignoring her presence—especially since no one else could see her.

Aya and I stood waiting beside the large clock statue in the plaza, about five minutes early. I glanced around, hands in my pockets, trying to relax, but my eyes kept drifting to Aya. She had crouched down and was gently patting a stray dog nearby. The funny thing was, the dog seemed to be staring straight at her, as if it could see her. It made me wonder—can animals see ghosts? Or was the dog just picking up on something else.

A few moments later, Yumi appeared in the distance. She waved as she approached, her usual bright smile lighting up her face. Her outfit was different from her usual style—a cropped off- shoulder top that showed a hint of her collarbone, paired with denim shorts that exposed her long legs. A sunny yellow cap sat atop her head, adding a playful, casual touch to the ensemble. It was refreshing to see her like this, and I had to admit, it suited her. The way she dressed so effortlessly made me realize just how comfortable she was with herself.

"Hey! Did you wait long?" Yumi asked as she came closer, her voice as cheerful as ever.

"No, not at all," I started to say, but my words faltered as I noticed Aya. She was circling Yumi, inspecting her outfit with a curious expression. I tried to keep my focus on Yumi, but it was hard not to react when Aya was so... involved.

Suddenly, there was a soft poof sound, the same one I had heard before when we went to the dress shop. Aya had done it again—instantly transforming her clothes to match Yumi's outfit, down to the exact shade of the yellow cap. Now, standing next to Yumi, Aya looked like her twin. They were dressed identically, and the resemblance—though invisible to Yumi—was uncanny.

I couldn’t help but jolt in surprise at Aya’s new appearance, and Yumi immediately noticed.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her brows furrowing in confusion.

"N-No, nothing!" I stammered, quickly recovering. "I was just... taken aback by how good you look today." It was the only excuse I could think of, but Yumi seemed to buy it, her smile returning.

Meanwhile, Aya stood next to Yumi, mimicking her movements with a smirk on her face. I couldn’t believe I had to deal with both of them dressed like this. It was like watching twins— one living, one not—side by side. I wasn’t sure if I should be amused or terrified at what the rest of the day might hold.

But one thing was for sure: Yumi had no idea she was sharing her date with a ghost. And I had to keep it that way.

"So, what's up?" I asked Yumi, trying to keep things casual as we started walking.

"Here!" She practically beamed as she reached into her small bag, pulling out two tickets and shoving them into my hand. "I wanted to watch this, and luckily, Eri had extra tickets, so she gave me these. I remembered you, so I invited you." She flashed a bright smile, clearly excited.

I glanced at the tickets, reading the title aloud, "Oh. I see. The Adventures of Jogoro and the Minions, huh? Is it good?"

Yumi's expression immediately shifted to one of complete shock. "Wha—? What did you just say?" Her eyes were wide as if I had insulted her taste in movies.

Confused, I looked down at the ticket again. "Why? The ticket says The Adventures of Jogoro

and the Minions. What’s the problem?"

Without missing a beat, Yumi snatched the ticket from my hand, flipping it over as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. "Uhhhhhhh!!! Why this? This is not what—" She stopped mid- sentence, groaning in frustration, her face turning red. One of her hands balled up into a tight fist. "I’m so going to smack Eri when I see her. This is not the movie I wanted!"

Aya, who had been silently observing the whole thing, burst out laughing, doubling over in amusement. She clutched her stomach, clearly enjoying Yumi’s misfortune far more than she should have. "Oh, this is too good," Aya giggled, her voice barely steady as she hovered beside me, invisible to Yumi but thoroughly entertained.

I, on the other hand, tried desperately to keep a straight face. But watching Yumi’s dramatic reaction, combined with Aya’s uncontrollable laughter, made it hard to hold back my own amusement. A grin crept onto my face despite my best efforts.

"Yumi... I’m sure The Adventures of Jogoro and the Minions is... uh, totally epic," I said, doing

my best to keep my voice steady.

She turned to me, narrowing her eyes. "You’re laughing, aren’t you?"

"No... no, of course not." I coughed, trying to hide my grin, but I failed miserably.

Yumi groaned, crossing her arms. "Ugh. I’m never trusting Eri with movie tickets ever again."

"Now, now. We should just buy another ticket," Yumi said, sighing in frustration as she folded her arms.

"Why?" I asked, trying to keep things light. "That movie looks interesting." I smiled, hoping to

cheer her up, though I knew she wasn’t thrilled about it.

Aya, still floating beside me, hadn’t stopped laughing. She was practically rolling in the air, clearly finding Yumi's dilemma endlessly amusing. Every time she looked at Yumi, she'd break into another fit of laughter.

Yumi shot me a skeptical look. "Ugh. You’re mocking me, aren’t you?"

"No, not at all!" I quickly replied, raising my hands defensively. "It’d be a waste if we didn’t use the tickets, right? And who knows, maybe The Adventures of Jogoro and the Minions will surprise us. It might be fun."

She paused for a second, as if weighing her options. Finally, she sighed. "Hmm, you're right. No point in letting it go to waste." She managed a small smile, her irritation slowly fading. "I guess the Adventures of Jogoro it is then."

Aya, catching her breath, gave me a playful nudge. "Oh, this is going to be so good," she whispered, still grinning ear to ear.

I glanced at her, trying not to laugh, and then back to Yumi. "Yeah, it’ll be fun. Who knows?

Jogoro might become our new favorite character."

Yumi let out a resigned laugh. "Alright, alright. Let’s go see what this Jogoro guy has in store for

us."

There was still some time before the movie started, so we made our way to the concession stand. Yumi insisted we grab popcorn, snacks, and drinks, her mood slowly improving as we did. She seemed determined to make the best of the situation, even if the movie wasn’t what she originally planned. Aya, of course, tagged along, making faces and commenting on everything like an invisible third wheel.

As we approached our seats, Yumi glanced at the tickets again. “These seats are right in the middle,” she said, her voice carrying a tone of suspicion. “Eri got these for me, but... don't you think it's a little too perfect? Almost like she’s trying to prank me or something.”

I chuckled. "Wouldn't put it past her. Eri’s always been clever like that."

We settled into our designated seats—Yumi on my left, and the empty seat beside me where Aya floated to my right. It was strange how used to this arrangement I’d gotten. For everyone else, it looked like a normal setup, but in reality, I had an invisible ghost sharing the experience.

Aya flopped into her "seat," lazily reclining in a way only she could, her arms behind her head. "Well, I gotta say, for a prank, these are some nice seats." She smirked, clearly still enjoying the absurdity of it all.

Yumi popped a piece of popcorn in her mouth and leaned closer. "What are you grinning at?" "Uh, nothing," I quickly replied, hiding a smile. "Just... ready for the movie."

As the lights dimmed and the previews began, I stole a glance at Aya, who was mimicking Yumi’s posture, eating imaginary popcorn with exaggerated gestures. Yumi might not have noticed, but to me, it felt like I was on a strange, surreal double date.

The Adventures of Jogoro and the Minions

Long ago, in a small village nestled at the edge of the Whispering Forest, monsters ruled the night. Dark creatures, born of shadow and fear, plagued the villagers, devouring crops, livestock, and any who ventured too far after dusk. The people were helpless, living each day in fear of the night’s terrors. That was until Jogoro appeared.

Jogoro was a mighty warrior, known across the land for his strength, bravery, and unshakable resolve. Armed with a sword forged in ancient fire and a heart filled with unrelenting courage, he took on the monstrous horde alone. After a grueling battle that lasted many days and nights, Jogoro emerged victorious. He had driven the monsters back into the deep woods, saving the village from its cursed fate. From that day on, he was revered as the hero of the village, a legend passed down through generations.

But time, even for the greatest of heroes, cannot be defeated. Years passed, and Jogoro grew old. His once powerful hands now shook with age, and his back, once straight and proud, bent under the weight of his years. Though the village remained peaceful, Jogoro knew that the monsters would one day return. The shadows of the forest seemed to whisper their vengeance, and the old warrior felt his time running short.

Unable to fight as he once did, Jogoro turned his attention to the children of the village—the orphans who had no one to care for them. He gathered them under his wing, feeding them, clothing them, and above all, teaching them the art of combat. They became his minions, not of servitude, but of hope. Jogoro passed on everything he knew: swordplay, strategy, and the courage it took to stand against the darkness. The children, grateful for his kindness, adored him. They saw him not just as a mentor, but as a father figure, someone who believed in them when no one else did.

Among the children was one named Ryo, a quiet boy with sharp eyes and even sharper

instincts. Jogoro saw great potential in him, often praising Ryo’s skill and intelligence. However, unknown to Jogoro, a dark seed had taken root in Ryo’s heart. The attention and praise Jogoro showered upon him began to twist Ryo’s view of the world. He didn’t want to just be a protector of the village—he wanted to rule it. The power that Jogoro spoke of, the strength to keep the monsters at bay, began to consume Ryo’s thoughts. Why protect, when he could conquer?

As the years went by, the apprentices grew stronger, each becoming capable fighters under

Jogoro’s careful guidance. Yet, all the while, Ryo’s heart grew darker. He secretly sought out the forbidden arts, delving into dark magic and ancient knowledge hidden in the depths of the Whispering Forest. He became fascinated with the power of the monsters, believing that controlling the darkness was the true path to strength.

One fateful night, Ryo put his plan into motion. While the village slept, he summoned the very monsters Jogoro had once vanquished. He had become something worse than the creatures that lurked in the shadows—a betrayer. The creatures stormed the village under Ryo’s command, laying waste to everything Jogoro had fought for.

Jogoro awoke to the sound of screams. Despite his age, he rallied his apprentices and led them into battle. The village was burning, and the dark creatures swarmed the streets. Jogoro’s heart ached as he fought alongside the children he had raised, knowing that one of them had turned against him.

In the midst of the chaos, Jogoro faced Ryo. The boy, now consumed by his lust for power, wore

a cruel smile. “You’re weak, Jogoro,” Ryo spat. “You’ve taught us to protect a village that doesn’t deserve it. But I see the truth now. The monsters, the darkness—they aren’t to be feared. They are to be controlled.”

Jogoro’s old heart broke at the sight of the boy he had once cherished. “Ryo... I gave you everything. This village gave you everything. And yet, you turn against your own people?”

Ryo sneered. “This village took nothing from me, because I never had anything to begin with. But now, I’ll take everything.”

The two clashed, the village burning around them. Jogoro, though weakened by age, fought with the strength of his youth. But Ryo, empowered by dark magic, proved to be a formidable foe. Jogoro’s apprentices fought valiantly, defending the village against the onslaught of monsters, but the battle took its toll.

In a final desperate move, Jogoro summoned all the strength he had left and struck down the monsters, forcing the darkness back into the forest. But the cost was great—Jogoro collapsed, mortally wounded. Ryo, seeing his master’s sacrifice, fled into the night, disappearing into the shadows from which he had emerged.

The village was saved, but at the greatest price. Jogoro’s apprentices, devastated by the loss of

their mentor, knelt by his side as he breathed his last breath.

“You must... carry on,” Jogoro whispered, his voice weak but filled with determination. “Protect the village... defend the light... never let the darkness win.”

With those final words, the great warrior Jogoro passed away, leaving his apprentices to continue his legacy. They buried him on the hill overlooking the village, where he had once stood watch over them all.

In his honor, the apprentices swore an oath: to protect the village, no matter the cost. They would never forget the lessons Jogoro had taught them, and they would ensure that his legacy lived on through their actions. As they stood, weapons in hand, the memory of their fallen mentor burned brightly in their hearts. And though the darkness would come again, they would be ready.

We exited the cinema after the movie finished, the cool evening air hitting us as we stepped outside. Yumi stretched her arms above her head, still riding the emotional high from the film.

"I didn’t expect the movie to be that good," she admitted with a satisfied smile.

"Yeah, same here," I agreed. "At first, I thought it was just for kids. But it had way more depth than I expected."

"Good thing we used those tickets!" Yumi said, her enthusiasm bubbling over as she let out a small laugh.

As we walked, I glanced at Aya, who had wandered a few feet ahead. A small group of cats had gathered around her, brushing against her legs and meowing softly. Aya, crouched down, was petting them with a gentle smile on her face. It was a heartwarming sight—several cats circling her, rubbing their scent on her as if they could truly feel her presence. I couldn’t help but wonder if animals really could see ghosts, or if they were simply drawn to her gentle aura.

A pet show was going on nearby, which explained the sudden influx of animals in the area. Aya’s face lit up as she continued playing with the cats, clearly enjoying the attention. I chuckled to myself. Even in moments like these, Aya was still the same—playful and full of life, despite being a ghost.

After the heartwarming encounter with the cats, we decided to grab lunch at a cozy café nearby. The place had a relaxed, rustic atmosphere, with wooden tables and soft ambient music playing in the background. Yumi scanned the menu, humming softly to herself, while I stole a glance at Aya, who had followed us quietly, taking her usual invisible seat beside me.

The waiter arrived, and Yumi excitedly ordered her favorite—pasta with creamy mushroom sauce—and I went with something simple, a burger and fries. Even though Aya couldn’t eat, she smiled, leaning forward, pretending to read the menu over my shoulder. “Oh, get the dessert,” she teased, nudging me. “You’ll love it.”

Once our meals arrived, Yumi started talking about the movie again. “I still can’t believe how emotional that ending was,” she said, her eyes lighting up between bites of pasta. “Jogoro sacrificing himself for his apprentices—it reminded me of those old hero stories.”

I nodded, taking a bite of my burger. “Yeah, it was surprisingly deep. I didn’t expect to get so caught up in it.”

Aya, sitting across from us now, leaned back, watching us with a faint smile. It was moments like these that made everything feel surreal—she was here, but not really part of the moment. As we talked and ate, I could see her eyes wander, quietly enjoying our company but from a distance, both physically and emotionally.

After lunch, Yumi’s energy picked up again. “Let’s head to the arcade!” she exclaimed, already on her feet before I could respond. I paid the bill, and we set off, Aya trailing behind with her usual quiet grace.

The arcade was buzzing with excitement—flashing lights, the sounds of coins clinking into machines, and the occasional cheer from a player hitting the jackpot. Yumi's face lit up like a child in a candy store as she raced ahead to the nearest crane game, eager to try her luck at winning one of the adorable plushies on display.

Aya, on the other hand, wandered to the rhythm game section, watching as players furiously tapped to the beat. "If only I could play," she muttered, a slight pout forming on her lips.

"Hey, check this out!" Yumi called over, her face beaming with pride as she managed to snag a

small stuffed penguin from the crane machine. "Look, it’s so cute!"

“Wow, you’re pretty good at that,” I laughed, genuinely impressed.

Yumi grinned. “Want to try?”

I shrugged and took a turn at the machine, but after a few failed attempts, I quickly realized it wasn’t as easy as Yumi made it seem. Aya chuckled beside me, teasing under her breath. "Guess you're not as skilled in every department."

We moved from game to game—Yumi dominated in the racing games, her competitive side shining through as she urged me to try and beat her score. I tried my best but couldn’t match her reflexes, not that it mattered; seeing her joy was reward enough. Meanwhile, Aya pretended to "play" alongside us, mimicking our movements with her invisible hands on the controls. Even though she couldn’t interact, it was clear she was enjoying herself just as much.

Eventually, we found ourselves at the photo booth tucked in the corner of the arcade. The bright neon lights and playful background options made it impossible for Yumi to resist. She grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the small booth. "Come on, let’s take some fun pictures! It'll be our memento of the day," she beamed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

I hesitated for a moment, glancing at Aya, who stood just outside, observing us. "You sure you want to go in there?" I teased, trying to hide my reluctance.

"Of course!" Yumi laughed, tugging me in further. “What, are you shy or something?”

I sighed and gave in, letting her pull me inside the booth. The space was tight, just big enough for two, with a touchscreen displaying various goofy filter options. Yumi immediately picked one with oversized sunglasses and bunny ears, grinning widely as she posed next to me.

Aya, curious as ever, floated just outside the booth, her face scrunched in mock annoyance. “I want in on this!” she huffed playfully. Of course, her reflection wasn’t going to show up in the final prints, but that didn’t stop her from leaning in, pretending to be part of the pictures.

The countdown began: “Three, two, one... click!”

Yumi made a peace sign while I awkwardly smiled, my eyes catching Aya’s exaggerated goofy face next to us. She puffed her cheeks, crossed her eyes, and stuck out her tongue, fully committed to her ridiculous expression. The camera flashed again, oblivious to her antics.

As the photos kept snapping, Yumi changed poses with ease—winking, laughing, and at one point throwing her arm around my shoulder for a cheeky selfie pose. Meanwhile, Aya kept up her invisible photo-bombing spree, making exaggerated gestures and silly faces that only I could see. Her laughter filled the small space, though it was a private moment shared only between us.

In one shot, Aya pretended to hold bunny ears over Yumi’s head, her ghostly hands hovering just above her, while in another, she leaned in so close to my face that I could practically feel her breath, even though I knew that wasn’t possible. I tried not to laugh as the photos kept coming, though it was impossible to hold it back entirely.

"You’re so stiff!" Yumi teased, nudging me with her elbow. "Loosen up, it's supposed to be

fun!"

I nodded, trying my best to relax, though Aya’s relentless antics didn’t make it easy. In the last photo, just as the camera clicked, she blew a raspberry right at me. I couldn’t help but crack up, and as a result, the final picture captured me mid-laugh while Yumi flashed a peace sign with a wide grin.

The machine whirred, spitting out the printed photos. Yumi grabbed the sheet excitedly,

admiring our snapshots. “These turned out great!” she exclaimed, holding them up to the light.

I glanced at the prints, smiling at how natural and happy Yumi looked in each shot. But what I saw—what only I could see—was the memory of Aya in each moment. Her laughter, her playful energy, her invisible presence still there, even if it didn’t appear in the pictures. To me, it was a group photo—one with Yumi, myself, and Aya, though only two of us would ever know it.

"Hey, I want a copy!" Yumi said, already heading to the machine to print another set. I just

smiled and nodded, still thinking of Aya’s infectious laughter that had echoed in the booth.

It was near sunset when we found ourselves in the garden inside the mall. The scene was peaceful, almost dreamlike. The circular fountain in the center rippled gently, reflecting the glowing store lights around it. Families were enjoying the early evening, children laughing as they played on the nearby kiddie rides, couples sitting on benches whispering to one another, and the soft hum of conversations filled the air.

Yumi and I stood near the fountain, the water spraying lightly in the background as the evening breeze brushed past us. She looked around with a soft smile on her face. "It’s pretty, isn’t it?" she said, her voice warm but tinged with something else I couldn’t quite place.

"Yeah," I replied, my eyes following hers. I glanced over at Aya, who had settled by the fountain, playing with the pigeons. She was quiet, a faint smile on her face as she tossed invisible crumbs to the birds. It was moments like these that made me realize how much her presence had become a part of my life—almost like she was truly alive and part of the world around us.

Suddenly, Yumi’s voice broke the silence, pulling my attention back. "You know, I... I want to say

something," she began hesitantly. She had been walking a few steps behind me, and now, as I turned to face her, I saw her expression shift—her usual brightness dimmed, replaced by nervousness.

"Hmm? What’s that?" I asked, a bit surprised by her serious tone.

Yumi bit her lip, looking anywhere but directly at me, her hands fidgeting at her sides. Then, almost as if gathering all the courage she could muster, she looked up and spoke, her words catching me completely off guard.

"I... I like... no, I love you!" she blurted out, her face turning red as she rushed through the confession. "For some time now," she added, her voice softer, almost as if she regretted saying it so quickly.

I froze. The weight of her words hit me like a sudden gust of wind, leaving me momentarily speechless. I had no idea what to say, how to respond. Yumi had always been kind and warm, someone I valued —but love? I hadn’t seen this coming.

As I stared at her, bewildered, my heart raced, not because I shared the same feelings, but because I didn’t. I couldn’t. In my mind, in my heart, there was someone else. Someone whose very existence defied reason, yet whose presence had become essential to me—Aya. How could I explain this? How could I tell her that the person I loved was a ghost, someone who no one else could see or understand?

"I..." I stammered, trying to find the right words. My thoughts swirled, tangled in confusion and guilt. I didn’t want to hurt Yumi. She was someone who had always been there for me, but to lead her on would be worse. "I... I can’t," I finally said, my voice weak, barely above a whisper.

Yumi’s eyes dropped to the ground. I could see the hurt flash across her face, even though she was trying hard to hide it. The last thing I wanted was to see her in pain, but I couldn’t lie to her. "Thank you, Yumi," I continued, trying to gather my thoughts. "But I... I can’t reciprocate your feelings. It’s not that I don’t care about you—I do, more than you know. But... I’m just not in the right place right now. I have things I need to figure out. I’m... I’m not good at relationships right now."

She looked up at me, her eyes searching mine for some kind of explanation. She deserved the truth, but how could I tell her about the part of my life that involved Aya? It sounded insane, even in my own head.

"It’s not about you, Yumi," I said softly. "It’s me. I’m still trying to find myself. I have things I need to resolve first. I don’t want to drag you into that mess. I’m really sorry."

The silence that followed felt heavy. Yumi stood there, processing my words. Her lips quivered tightly, but she fought back the tears, her hands clenching into small fists by her sides. She took a deep breath before meeting my gaze again, her expression firm, though her voice wavered.

"You don’t need to apologize," she said, forcing a small, sad smile. "I just... I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. I had to tell you. But... maybe, if you do find yourself someday, if things change..." She trailed off, shaking her head, as if embarrassed by her own words. "Ugh! What am I even saying?" She stomped her foot lightly, clearly frustrated with herself.

I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t promise her something I wasn’t sure of. But her bravery in

admitting her feelings, even knowing what the outcome might be, filled me with admiration.

"I’ll be okay," Yumi said after a moment, her voice quieter now. "Don’t worry about me. I’ll... I’ll

be fine tomorrow. I just needed to get it off my chest."

I watched as she gave me one last look, her eyes still glimmering with the vulnerability of her confession, before she turned her gaze back to the peaceful garden around us. Aya, still sitting by the fountain, remained silent, her soft expression unchanged. But I could feel her eyes on me, as if she understood everything without needing to say a word.

"Okay! I guess this is the end of our date," Yumi said cheerily, her voice upbeat and bright, though I could tell from her eyes that she was putting on a brave face. She was pretending, trying to mask the hurt beneath the surface.

The guilt gnawed at me, knowing I’d caused this. "I... I can walk you home," I offered, wanting to at least do something to make up for how I had let her down. But deep down, I knew there wasn’t much I could do to ease the pain I had caused.

Yumi shook her head, her smile faltering for just a moment. "No. What are you saying?" she replied, her voice trembling slightly. "I just... I just want to be alone for a minute. A minute to breathe after being rejected." She let out a shaky breath, her hands clenching into fists. "So please... stop. Stop being so nice to me."

Her words stung, piercing through me like a cold blade. I felt a knot tighten in my chest, the

weight of guilt sinking deeper. I hadn’t meant to hurt her, but refusing her feelings had done

exactly that. Yet, I couldn’t take her lead and pretend everything would be fine. It wouldn’t. I’d

be lying to both of us, and I knew that would only make things worse in the long run.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, fighting back tears. She was trying so hard to hold herself together, but I could see the cracks forming.

"Okay!" she said suddenly, forcing a smile as she stepped back, creating distance between us. "I’ll be going. See you at work!" Her voice wavered slightly, but she held on to her cheerful facade for just a moment longer before turning on her heel and walking away. Her steps were quick, almost like she was trying to escape the moment as fast as she could.

I watched her retreating figure, my heart heavy with the knowledge that I had caused this. Aya stood quietly beside me, watching Yumi as well, her usual playful air gone. She didn’t say anything, but her presence was enough to remind me that no matter how hard things were now, I had made the right choice—no matter how much it hurt.

As Yumi disappeared into the crowd, I sighed, feeling the weight of the moment settle around me like a thick fog. I only hoped that time would ease the pain, for both of us.

"Why? Why did you reject her?" Aya asked softly, standing beside me. Her usual playful tone was gone, replaced by something more serious. She gazed at Yumi’s retreating figure, her eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of sadness.

I hesitated for a moment before turning to face Aya, my hand raised to my ear as if I was

pretending to be on a phone call. I couldn’t exactly be seen talking to thin air in the middle of a

busy mall.

"Because... you know I love someone else," I said, my voice barely a whisper. I met her eyes, feeling the weight of those words. They had always been true, but saying them out loud made everything feel more real—more complicated.

Aya blinked, her expression softening as the wind lightly ruffled her hair. She stared at me for a moment, her face unreadable, before breaking into a small, almost bittersweet smile. "You

really are hopeless, aren’t you?" she said, her voice gentle, but there was an underlying sadness in her words.

"I know," I replied, shrugging lightly, feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over me. Loving a ghost—loving her—was something I could never fully grasp. And yet, the feelings were undeniably there, lingering between us like a quiet whisper neither of us wanted to acknowledge too loudly.

"But you know," Aya said quietly, her gaze drifting off to the horizon, "there are so many things

that I can’t do, that she can."

"I know," I replied softly, my voice carrying a weight of acceptance, though the reality of it stung deep inside.

"We can’t do the things that normal couples do," she continued, her tone calm but laced with sadness. " I can’t be seen... by anyone but you."

"I know," I said again, my eyes locked on hers. "But we can still touch each other. I can feel you—your presence, your touch. That’s enough for me." It was a strange comfort, knowing that even in her ghostly form, Aya’s touch was real to me.

Aya’s eyes flickered, a glimmer of sorrow crossing them. "I can’t be with you forever."

My chest tightened, but I forced myself to remain steady. "I know." Her next words came softer, almost fragile. "I might be gone soon."

"I know," I said again, my voice trembling slightly this time. "That’s why I want to make as many memories with you as I can. I want to enjoy every little moment we have. Every second." I forced a smile, hoping to ease the heavy mood, though the truth was pressing on me like an immovable weight.

Aya stared at me for a long moment, her lips curling into a faint, melancholic smile. "You really are hopeless."

"Maybe I am," I admitted, a soft chuckle escaping my lips. "But if this is all the time we get, I’m not wasting it. I don’t care if we can’t do everything normal couples do. You’re the one I want to be with, even if it’s only for now."

Aya’s smile faltered slightly, but her eyes were filled with warmth, understanding, and an unspoken gratitude. She stepped closer, and though no one around us could see, I felt her gentle touch on my arm. It was faint but real enough to remind me that this—whatever this was—was all I needed.

"Then let’s make every moment count," Aya said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, as the evening sky painted the world in shades of orange and purple. Even in the fading sunlight, her presence was the brightest thing around me.

And for now, that was more than enough.

Things slowly returned to a sense of normalcy after Yumi’s confession. At work, she was back to her cheerful, playful self, always quick with a joke or a smile. But I could tell—there was still a hint of something hidden beneath her laughter, a mask she wore only when I was around. Her eyes, though bright, occasionally lingered on me a bit too long, betraying a sadness she couldn’t fully hide. Yet, she never let it affect our banter, and she even resumed her playful teasing with Kenjie, who seemed oblivious to the undertones in her behavior. It was like she was trying her best to maintain the balance in our friendship.

As for me and Aya, life continued in the little flat we shared, quietly building our own world within those four walls. We went through our days together, creating memories out of the smallest, most ordinary moments. Whether it was cooking breakfast, playing games, or laughing at silly TV shows, every little thing felt precious.

We would spend evenings on the couch, her leaning against me as we watched movies, her touch always soft, always there, even if the world around us couldn’t see her. It was strange— living a life with someone who wasn’t quite alive. Yet, she felt more real to me than anyone

else. We made jokes, talked about anything and everything, and sometimes just sat in comfortable silence, basking in the quiet closeness that we shared.

But always, at the back of my mind, there was the lingering fear of losing her. Every time she would fade slightly, or disappear for a few minutes like she sometimes did, my heart would race, wondering if that was it—if she was gone for good. But she always came back with a smile, and I would feel that small wave of relief wash over me.

Still, the fear never truly went away. It was like living on borrowed time, knowing that each moment we spent together could be the last. Aya knew it too. Though she never said it, I could see it in the way she would sometimes stare off into the distance, her expression soft but sad, as if she was already preparing for the inevitable.

Even so, we both chose to ignore that looming shadow. Instead, we clung to the present, creating small but meaningful memories—memories that I knew would one day be all I had left of her.