The First Letter

The rain had come suddenly that afternoon, soaking the narrow streets of Tokyo in a quiet melancholy. Aiko Fujimoto pulled her hoodie tighter around her face as she ducked into the small bookstore she always passed but never entered.

It was dimly lit, the scent of old pages and worn wood strong in the air. Books were stacked in towers, uneven and precarious. She wandered aimlessly, the patter of rain muffled behind the door.

She wasn’t looking for anything in particular. Maybe something old. Something forgotten.

And then she saw it.

On a dusty shelf in the back corner, a thin notebook sat alone. The cover was soft leather, deep burgundy, cracked at the edges. No title. No label. Just... waiting.

Curious, Aiko opened it.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Inside, neat handwriting filled the first page — not notes, not numbers, but a letter.

"To Aiko Fujimoto,

You don’t know me yet, but I’ve known you forever.

The first time we met, you were standing in the rain, just like today. You looked lonely, but not sad. Like someone waiting for something they couldn’t name.

That’s how I knew it was you.

I don’t have much time. But I’ll find you again. Just wait a little longer.

—Ren"*

Aiko blinked. Her fingers trembled slightly.

Was this a prank? Someone playing with her name?

She flipped the page. Nothing. The rest of the notebook was blank.

Until she checked the date at the top of the letter.

"October 2, 2027."

Three years from now.

Aiko’s chest tightened. A strange chill ran down her spine, even as her fingers warmed around the edges of the page. She glanced outside. Rain still fell in slow, slanted lines.

The next day, Aiko couldn’t stop thinking about the letter. She brought the notebook to school, flipping it open between classes. Nothing had changed. Still one letter. Still the impossible date.

During lunch, she sat in the back of the library, staring at the handwriting like it held some secret.

That’s when she heard the announcement over the intercom:

“Attention students. Please welcome our new transfer student, Ren Takashiro.”

Her heart stopped.

She turned to the door. Moments later, a tall boy with dark hair walked in, his uniform crisp, his eyes calm but distant.

And then their eyes met.

Just for a second.

He blinked, hesitated, then gave the smallest nod. As if… he recognized her.

As if he’d seen her before.

Aiko’s hands tightened around the notebook.

The boy from the letter was real.

After school, she followed him. Not on purpose. Not really.

He walked alone, backpack slung over one shoulder, earbuds in. He didn’t seem to notice her — until he stopped outside a vending machine and glanced back.

“You’re following me,” he said, without turning around fully.

Aiko froze. “No—I mean, I wasn’t—"

He finally turned.

His eyes were dark but gentle. Curious.

“You’re Aiko, right?”

Her heart flipped.

“…Yes.”

Ren gave a small smile, then looked away.

“I had a weird dream last night,” he said. “You were in it. Standing in the rain.”

Aiko felt the notebook burn like a secret in her bag.

“…And what happened?” she asked softly.

“I handed you something,” he said. “But I woke up before I could see what.”

He looked at her again, more seriously this time.

“Do we know each other?”

Aiko shook her head. “No. Not yet.”

That night, a second letter appeared in the notebook.

*“I saw you again today. You looked at me like you’d never seen me before — and yet, you knew.

I think the timeline is already shifting. I can feel things changing.

But don’t be afraid.

Even if the world resets a thousand times, I’ll find you.”*

Aiko closed the notebook slowly.

Outside, the rain had stopped.

But her world had only just begun to unravel.