Out of Time

The crisp late-autumn air bit at Akio’s cheeks as he followed Amaya through the university’s front gates. Golden ginkgo leaves carpeted the wide walkway, swirling around their ankles whenever the breeze picked up. Under different circumstances, Akio might have paused to admire the campus: the neat lines of maple trees blazing red along the paths, the excited clusters of prospective students chattering around them. It was the kind of modern, high-tech university you’d see in brochures, state-of-the-art and unapologetically proud of it.

But all that charm was lost on Amaya. She marched a half-step ahead, hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, her shoulders hunched up as if to ward off more than just the chill.

He offered a small, reassuring smile. “Thank you for coming. I know you didn’t want to…”

Amaya blew a strand of white hair from her face. “I’m only here so Declan will stop nagging,” she grumbled. “And because if I didn’t show, my parents might actually parachute in and drag me by the ears.”

Akio hid a smirk, imagining Declan threatening to hog-tie Amaya and deliver her to campus himself. In truth, Declan’s early-morning call two days ago had been persuasive: “Just check it out, love. No harm in looking,” he had urged. Amaya had eventually agreed with great reluctance, and a dozen caveats about “not signing my soul away.”

Now that they were here, Akio could feel her tension radiating like static electricity. As they followed a neatly paved path toward the administration building, he reached out gently and brushed the back of her hand with his fingertips. “Hey,” he said softly. “It’s just a visit. No commitments. We’ll be in and out.”

She flashed him a tight, fleeting smile, more a grimace than anything. “In and out,” she echoed. “Like a heist. Grab the info and run.”

Akio’s lips twitched. “If they chase after us, you can cartwheel to distract them while I find an escape route.”

That earned a genuine snort from her. “Deal. We’ll make a circus performer out of you yet.”

They entered the admin hall, where a receptionist guided them to a meeting room.

“Welcome! Hosonuma-san and… van der Windt-san, is it?” A warm voice drew their attention. A tall man in a brown suit stepped in, accompanied by a fit older woman in a tracksuit. “I’m Professor Hayashi, and this is Coach Sato from our athletics department.”

Akio rose to bow politely, and after a beat, Amaya did too, though her bow was a bit stiff. “Thanks for making time for us,” Akio said, the respectful tone coming naturally.

Amaya stayed quiet, her jaw set. Akio gently nudged her ankle with his foot. “Thank you,” she added quickly.

Professor Hayashi smiled as they all took seats. “It’s my pleasure. Amaya, your parents have told me a lot about you.” He swiped on his tablet and the table’s screen lit up with a student profile template. “They mentioned you think you’re ‘not academic material’?” He raised an eyebrow kindly. “I must say, I disagree.”

Amaya blinked, clearly taken aback by his directness. “Uh… well, I barely scraped through high school, so—”

“They also sent along some interesting titbits,” Hayashi cut in cheerfully. “Five languages, is it? Japanese, English, German, Dutch, and Russian?” He looked up, eyes twinkling. “That’s quite a feat. Our International Studies department would love to have someone with your skills.”

Akio felt a swell of pride, glancing at Amaya. She shifted in her seat, confused. “I mean, I picked those up traveling with the circus. It’s not… academic.” A flush crept up her neck.

“Language acquisition is academic,” Hayashi countered lightly. “It shows adaptability, memory, cultural exposure. All things we value.”

Amaya opened her mouth, a retort forming but Coach Sato leaned forward, interrupting. Her eyes had been studying Amaya shrewdly since she walked in.

“Amaya… van der Windt,” the coach said, pronouncing the name carefully. “Your mother wouldn’t happen to be Aya van der Windt?”

Amaya stiffened. “She is,” she replied warily. Akio noted the flicker of surprise in her eyes, this was clearly unexpected.

Coach Sato broke into a grin. “I knew it. You look just like Aya did at your age. She and I competed together at Nationals back in the day.” Sato’s gaze swept over Amaya appraisingly. “When I saw the name, I had to meet you.”

Akio felt Amaya inch back into her chair. Mention of her mother’s famed gymnastics career usually put her on edge. “Coach—” he started, but Sato was already barrelling on enthusiastically.

“Your mother was one of the best gymnasts our university ever produced. If you have even a fraction of her talent—”

“I don’t,” Amaya blurted defensively, cheeks reddening. “I mean— I do circus, not… that.”

Coach Sato chuckled. “Honey, circus acrobatics require just as much athleticism, if not more. I saw a clip of you on the trapeze at that gala—”

Amaya shot a glare toward Akio. He winced; he may have proudly forwarded a video of her performance to Declan, who then shared it widely. Sato continued, unaware of the silent daggers Amaya was sending Akio’s way.

“—and I thought, ‘That girl could lead our gymnastics team to gold.’” The coach leaned in, eyes bright. “Have you considered applying for our gymnastics scholarship? With your abilities, you’d be a strong candidate. Possibly a full ride.”

Amaya’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. She looked truly cornered, like a cat backed against a wall of eager dogs. Akio stepped in, his voice gentle. “I think Amaya’s a bit overwhelmed. It’s a lot to take in.” He cast her an encouraging look. “We only planned to look around today.”

Professor Hayashi nodded amiably. “Of course. No pressure. We just wanted to show some opportunities.” He tapped the table screen, bringing up a campus map. “How about a quick tour? We could visit the language lab, the dorms—”

“Could we see the gym?” Akio interjected, noticing how Amaya’s gaze kept sliding toward Coach Sato. Maybe if she saw the facilities, it could spark something beyond fear.

Coach Sato grinned. “Absolutely. We have practice starting soon, so you can see our athletes in action.”

Amaya swallowed hard. “Do I… have to?” she whispered to Akio as they stood.

He gave her hand a discreet squeeze. “Just a peek,” he assured. “No one’s forcing anything.”

The university’s main gymnasium was massive. Racks of equipment lined one side: parallel bars, balance beams, vaulting horses. On the sprung floor, a few gymnasts were stretching, and the thud of someone tumbling echoed from the far end.

Amaya lingered by the doorway; hands shoved in her jacket pockets.

Coach Sato waved at a lithe girl dismounting the uneven bars. “Take five, everyone!” she called, then turned to Amaya. “Would you like to try something? Just for fun? I’m dying to see what you can do up close.”

Amaya shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no no. I didn’t come to, I’m not dressed for—” She gestured at her outfit.

Sato wasn’t deterred. “We have spares and plenty of chalk. And I recall your mom could flip in any outfit.” She said it lightly, but it struck a chord—Amaya’s eyes flashed at the bait. If there was one reliable way to get Amaya to do something, Akio knew, it was to imply she couldn’t.

Sure enough, Amaya jutted her chin out. “Five minutes. One drill. Then we leave.” She tugged off her hoodie before Akio could even react. Underneath, she had a fitted tank top; that plus her flexible leggings would suffice. “Let’s get this over with.”

Akio bit back a proud smile as he watched her stride forward to the mat. The coach clapped her hands. “Great! How about a simple tumbling pass, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Amaya rolled her shoulders, the familiar crack of joints echoing. Akio could see the transformation: her back straightened, her feet planted firmly. Gone was the prickly reluctance, her element had claimed her. Even her hair seemed to spark with energy.

She took a breath, then sprinted forward. In a blink, she launched into a round-off, back handspring, then one, two, three backflips in quick succession. Her form was fluid and sharp all at once, honed by years under the circus tent. As she landed the final flip, she added cheeky aerial twist that wasn’t standard gymnastics fare but pure Amaya. She stuck the landing with a theatrical bow, as if concluding a show.

A couple of the practicing gymnasts had stopped to watch, jaws dropped. Coach Sato broke into enthusiastic applause. “Fantastic! Still got all ten toes intact, I see,” Amaya quipped, trying to hide how heavily she was breathing.

A faint sheen of sweat glowed on her forehead, and Akio could tell she was fighting back a pleased grin. Performing, even here, even while protesting, had lit a spark in her eyes.

“You’ve got extraordinary talent,” Sato said, hands on her hips. “With a bit of training to adjust from circus to competition style, you’d be unstoppable.”

Amaya quickly grabbed her hoodie and pulled it back on, as if suddenly feeling exposed. “One drill, as promised. So… we’re done, right?”

The professor gently interceded. “Of course. Thank you for humouring us, Amaya.”

As they walked out of the gym, Coach Sato couldn’t resist adding, “If you ever change your mind, door’s open! We’d be thrilled to have you. Tell your mom Sato says hi!”

Amaya threw up a hasty wave without looking back. Akio offered a polite bow of farewell and hurried after Amaya, who was making a beeline for the exit.

He caught up to her outside near a row of vending machines. “Hey—”

She was already digging coins from her pocket. With jerky movements, she fed a vending machine and punched a button. A canned coffee clattered out. Amaya snatched it, cracking it open with a forceful pop. She took a long gulp.

“Are you alright?” Akio ventured carefully. Her expression was unreadable, eyes fixed on the pavement.

“Fine. Super,” she replied, too quickly. The fizz of the soda echoed in the tense silence. “I showed them what they wanted. We done here?”

Akio wanted to ask more, but Professor Hayashi and Sato were walking out of the gym now, heading their way, no doubt to say a cordial goodbye. Amaya saw them and grimaced.

Without warning, she grabbed Akio’s hand. “Time to vanish,” she hissed, and before he could protest, she was tugging him around the corner of the building, ducking behind a tall hedge.

They pressed back against the brick wall, hidden by leaves as the coach’s voice neared. Amaya was so close Akio could feel her quickened breath on his neck. His heart gave an inconvenient little jump; even now, mid-escape, her proximity affected him.

Professor Hayashi’s voice floated around the corner, “…completely understandable if she needs time. Very bright girl.”

“Mmh, Aya’s stubborn streak for sure,” Coach Sato replied wryly. Their footsteps paused perhaps a meter away. Akio held his breath. Through a gap in the hedge, he could just see Sato’s perplexed face scanning around. “I could’ve sworn they were right here.”

Amaya pressed a finger to her lips, eyes meeting Akio’s as they hid. He nodded, suppressing the urge to laugh at the absurdity of sneaking around a college campus like truant teens. Her hair was mussed, a stray leaf caught in it. Without thinking, he gently plucked it away.

The tension in her shoulders loosened a fraction. They stayed silent until the voices receded. Eventually, Hayashi and Sato gave up and headed back toward the main hall, their conversation fading into the distance.

Amaya exhaled loudly and released Akio’s hand. “In and out, like we agreed.” She attempted a grin, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“You okay?” he asked again, quietly.

She shrugged, wiping a bead of sweat from her temple with her sleeve. “Yeah. Peachy. Can we go home now?”

He nodded, deciding not to push her here in the open. “Sure. Let’s grab lunch on the way?”

“Home,” she repeated firmly. “I just… want to go.”

The subway ride back to their neighbourhood was mostly silent. Amaya stared at the passing tunnel lights, tapping her foot rapidly. Akio clutched the metal pole, racking his brain for what to say. She had a defensive wall up, he hadn’t seen it this high in a while, not since the early days of their unlikely cohabitation.

They reached their stop and ascended into the cool afternoon. The walk to their apartment was brisk; Amaya kept a half-step ahead, face unreadable. By the time Akio closed the apartment door behind them, he felt a knot of worry in his stomach.

“You hungry?” he tried as he slipped off his shoes. The apartment greeted them with its familiar warmth. Late autumn sunset cast a golden stripe across the floor.

“Starving,” Amaya said, though her tone was flat. She dropped her duffel bag (packed that morning with vehement slams of drawers) by the couch and headed straight for the kitchen. “I’ll make something.”

Akio watched as she yanked open the fridge. He hovered near the kitchen table. “I can cook—”

“I got it.” Her voice brooked no argument. Out came eggs, leftover rice, some green onions. She clattered a pan onto the stove.

He took a seat at the small table, where Pickles’ ivy tendrils curled around the bright yellow pot. The silence between them was taut as a tightrope.

Akio cleared his throat gently. “That was pretty cool, what you did back there. On the floor exercise.”

Amaya’s back was to him. She cracked two eggs with unnecessary force. “Mm.”

“Coach Sato was impressed. I mean, I always am, but hearing it from someone like her—”

The spatula clattered from Amaya’s hand onto the stovetop. She spun around, and Akio’s words died in his mouth. She looked furious, eyes bright not with pride but with anger. “Is that what this is, then? You got what you wanted? External validation that the wild circus girl has some potential after all?”

Akio blinked. “What? No—I just—”

“Just what? Wanted to show me off to your fancy academic friends?” Her voice rose, each word like a thrown knife. “Let them poke and prod me like some exotic creature until they found a trick I could do to impress them?”

He stood up slowly, palms open in a placating gesture. “Amaya, that’s not fair. They were trying to recruit you, not demean you.”

She laughed, a sharp disbelieving sound. “Oh, recruit me, sure. For one second, put yourself in my shoes. You walk into a room where everyone’s already decided what’s best for you, because clearly you don’t know any better, and they start planning your life: ‘Do this, join that, be like your mom, take our scholarship!’” She ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the ends in agitation. “They didn’t listen to a damn thing I wanted.”

Akio felt his own frustration flicker. “You barely said what you wanted! You walked in determined to hate everything. Maybe if you’d actually talked with them instead of hiding behind snark and—” He bit his tongue too late.

Her eyes flashed dangerously. “Instead of what? Instead of being the uneducated brat you think I am?”

He reeled back. “I never said that.” The air in the tiny apartment felt suddenly thin “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Amaya turned off the stove with a vicious twist, the half-cooked eggs forgotten. “You don’t have to say it. You think I didn’t notice your face light up at that campus? You were like a kid in a candy store. Bet you were imagining me all cleaned up, carrying books, playing perfect student, so I can fit neatly into your perfectly structured life.”

Akio’s chest tightened. “That’s not true. I was just excited by the tech—”

“Bullshit.” The profanity cracked in the air. She hardly ever swore at him. “You’ve been pushing this ever since my parents brought it up. You and Declan, teaming up like I’m some wayward child needing guidance.” Her voice wobbled, but her glare stayed fierce. “You can’t stand that I don’t want the same things you do. So you drag me to the one place you feel superior, school. Because academic achievement is your comfort zone, isn’t it, Mr. Top-Of-Your-Class?”

Akio felt heat rise to his face. “Yes, I did well in school. And you could too, if you tried—”

“There it is,” she interrupted, throwing her hands up. “If I tried. Like I’m lazy or stupid. You think I chose to barely pass high school? I tried, Akio. And guess what? It wasn’t for me. Every online teacher treated me like a lost cause. The only time I felt alive was on stage, performing.”

Her words hung between them, raw and ragged. Akio ran a hand through his hair, heart pounding. “I’m not your teachers, Amaya. I’m not your parents. I’m—” He softened his tone, pleading now. “I’m someone who cares about you, who sees how brilliant you are. I just… I want you to have every opportunity. You’re so afraid of what might happen if you stay in one place, but have you considered what you’re giving up if you don’t?”

She stared at him, breathing hard. “What I’m giving up? You mean who I’m giving up, don’t you?” The accusation in her eyes was as searing as her words. “This isn’t just about me. Admit it. You want me to stay because you want me here with you, safe and tied down. You’re using this university thing to trap me.”

Akio recoiled as if slapped. “Trap you? Is that what you think I’m doing?” His voice fell to a hurt whisper. “I thought you knew me better.”

Her eyes were shiny now, anger and tears mixing. “Do I? You’re so good at planning and controlling everything, including your feelings. Have you even admitted to yourself why you’re so desperate to have me stay?”

“Stop psychoanalyzing me,” he snapped, a tremor in his voice. He felt exposed. “This is about your future. About you not wasting your potential—”

“No, Akio.” She stepped closer, trembling. “It’s about us. And you can’t even say it.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Silence. His failure to respond was answer enough.

Amaya’s face crumpled, devastation peeking through the cracks of her fury. “I thought so.” She turned away, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “You really can’t do it… You can’t just ask me to stay because you love me or whatever. You have to make it a damn logical argument. University, future, blah blah. Punishing me for not being like you, instead of just telling me you’re scared to lose me.” Her shoulders shook.

“Well, congratulations. You’ve pushed me away instead.”

A chill fell over Akio. His throat worked, but words wouldn’t come. He was terrified, terrified she was right, and even more terrified to say anything now and have it be too late.

Amaya took his silence as confirmation of her worst fears. With a sharp inhale, she brushed past him and strode to the living area. She yanked her duffel bag up from where she’d dropped it.

Panic spurred Akio into motion. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving,” she said flatly, voice thick. She stormed to her bedroom, now strewn with clothes from this morning’s turmoil, and began stuffing stray items into the duffel. Random clothes, her favourite knitted beanie, the framed photo-booth strip of them from the summer carnival. When that went in, Akio’s heart nearly stopped. She was taking everything.

He hovered at the doorway, anguish twisting inside him. “Amaya, stop. Let’s… let’s talk this through. Please.”

She zipped the bag violently and pushed past him. “I think we said everything that matters.”

He grabbed her arm as she moved by. “No, we didn’t. I—”

She whirled, eyes blazing through tears. “Let go.”

Akio hesitated, loosening his grip but not releasing entirely. “Not until you listen—”

In a flash, Amaya tried to wrench free. When that failed, she swung her free hand upward, a clear attempt to slap him across the cheek. It was messy and born of pure emotion.

He caught her wrist mid-air. For a heartbeat they froze in that position: her arm trapped in his grip, both of them breathing hard

Akio slowly lowered her arm, releasing it. He was shaking; he’d never seen her like this, never been like this himself.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, voice barely audible. He wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for, not letting her slap him, or all the things that led to this moment.

She looked at him for a long moment. Her lips parted, but then they pressed together into a hard line as if she refused to beg or bargain.

Without another word, Amaya turned on her heel and headed for the door. Akio’s body went cold. She was really leaving.

His mind screamed at him to do something, anything to stop her. As she slipped on her sneakers with shaking hands, he moved, propelled by desperation.

He slammed his palm against the front door, just as she reached for the handle. The wood rattled with the force, the sound like a gunshot in the quiet apartment.

Amaya flinched, eyes wide at the sudden violence inches from her face. She drew back, pressed against the entryway wall. Akio’s hand stayed splayed on the door, barring her way. He stood so close now; he could see the tear tracks glistening on her cheeks.

“Please,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “Don’t go.”

For a split second, hope flickered in her eyes. But then her expression closed off, as if a curtain fell. She sidestepped out of his reach, fingers wrapping around the door handle. “I have to.” Her voice broke on the last word.

Akio dropped his hand from the door, defeat crashing over him. He stepped back, giving her room. He couldn’t trust himself to speak without crumbling. And a cruel voice in his head suggested that this is what he deserved.

Amaya pulled the door open. The hallway beyond seemed impossibly dark. She hefted her duffel on her shoulder.

“Amaya—” Akio started, finally finding his voice. But when she looked back at him, it stopped dead in his throat. Her eyes were brimming, lower lip quivering.

“Goodbye, Akio,” she whispered.

The door closed with a soft click that echoed like thunder in Akio’s ears.

He stood there in the silent apartment, staring at the door as if sheer will could make it swing open again. But it didn’t.

Amaya was gone.

Akio was left to face the gnawing possibility that this time, she might not come back at all.