Aiko’s choice

Days passed in quiet tension. Avoidance had become routine—a fragile rhythm they all followed, though it weighed heavily on both hearts. Until one night, when Aiko stepped onto the balcony of the palace hallway to breathe in the cold, fresh air. She thought she was alone, yet shadows shifted at the far end. Akihiko stood there, quiet and composed, his silhouette outlined by the silver light of the two moons.

His gaze found her instantly. The seriousness in his eyes carried both determination and worry. For a moment, he hesitated, glancing at Naoru behind him, who rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Akihiko clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and stepped forward, leaving Naoru behind. “It’s time to talk,” he told himself silently.

Aiko froze at the sight of him, her chest tightening. Fear, confusion, and hurt swirled in her gaze.

“Aiko,” Akihiko called softly, a tone of gentleness beneath the weight of his presence.

Aiko lowered her eyes, bowing slightly, her voice trembling:

“Prince.”

The single word cut through the night like a fragile blade. The title he had long carried as a burden now created an invisible wall between them; one she seemed unwilling—or unable—to cross.

Akihiko stepped closer, his voice softening, almost a plea:

“Please… Don’t address me with that title. I have a name.”

Aiko’s gaze lifted slightly, hesitant, unsure if she could let her guard down.

“I… I can’t,” she whispered, sincerity shining through her words.

Akihiko’s chest tightened. He took a deep breath, steadying his own turmoil.

“All my friends call me by my name. Almost everyone I know. I want to be on the same level with you. I don’t want to be… anything more than Akihiko when we’re together.”

“But you are more,” Aiko replied, her voice barely audible.

A heavy silence settled. Aiko’s words seemed to echo, bouncing between their hearts. She continued, voice trembling but steady:

“Now everything is clear to me… your father is the king, your mother the queen, Ren is the younger prince, this palace is yours… possibly even the whole planet. How could I be so blind?”

Akihiko’s eyes darkened momentarily with distant sadness.

“I’m sorry… I never wanted anything I hold to crush you. Yet… it did.”

They stood in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, the night carrying the weight of unspoken emotions.

“I want to go back to my world, A…” Aiko’s voice faltered. She could not bring herself to say his name fully.

Akihiko froze, the words piercing him.

“I understand,” he whispered softly, pain and understanding mingling in his voice.

He moved closer, intent to reassure her, but Aiko’s hesitation caused her to step back. Her body faltered, strength wavering. At the last moment, Akihiko’s arm wrapped around her, steadying her.

“You’re not fully strong yet,” he murmured, concern etched across his features.

Leaning against him, Aiko felt a warmth she hadn’t expected, a fragile sense of safety amidst her turmoil.

“I feel safe, when he is near me… but I must go home. I can’t dream about him. He’s unattainable,” she thought, a silent ache pressing on her chest.

Akihiko’s gaze lingered on her, regret and longing reflected in his eyes.

“I’m sorry I caused you pain… Why did you get under my skin so much?”

Both realized the same truth in that instant, yet neither could speak it aloud. Silence became their language.

Gently, Akihiko took her hand, guiding her through the silent castle halls toward her chamber. Aiko walked cautiously, fragile yet grateful for his quiet support. Desire for closeness battled with the need for distance; every step was a negotiation with her own heart.

When they reached her chamber, the doors opened, and Akihiko escorted her to the bed. He paused for a moment, looking into her eyes.

“If you need anything, just call,” he said and placed her StarCom on the nightstand, his tone carrying sincerity, care, and an unspoken promise.

Aiko nodded, a quiet, grateful smile forming despite the turmoil inside her. As the doors closed behind him, Akihiko remained alone in the hallway, heart heavy with conflicting emotions.

He lingered, staring at the closed doors where Aiko rested, feeling the invisible barrier between them grow yet fragilely connected. Concern, despair, and quiet hope battled within him.

Inside her chamber, Aiko held the star-shaped pendant in her hand, closing her eyes.

“Why does my heart respond to him… even though I want to avoid him? Why can’t I simply hate him?”

Memories of Earth, the warmth of her family, the smell of freshly baked bread, laughter echoing through familiar halls, pressed against her thoughts. That was where she belonged: safe, free from secrets and burdens she couldn’t yet bear.

“I want to go back…” she whispered. “Back to Earth… where I am just Aiko. Without all this… drama.”

Yet even as the longing pressed upon her, something resisted—a thin thread pulling her toward Akihiko, toward the gaze that broke her walls again and again.

Outside, Naoru appeared to Akihiko.

“So, she wants to go home,” he said quietly.

Akihiko nodded, his expression hardening with resolve. He took a deep breath, vowing silently to do everything in his power to make sure she could return safely.

The next morning, Mika found Aiko sitting by the bed, folding her blanket with meticulous care. Her eyes were red from sleepless nights.

“You didn’t sleep again, did you?” Mika asked gently.

Aiko attempted a tired smile, failing.

“Mika… I want to go home. To Earth… as soon as possible.”

Mika’s eyes widened, surprise and concern mingling. She paused, then a soft, understanding smile appeared.

“You know, Aiko… I completely understand. Earth is your home. That’s where you belong.”

Aiko felt a weight lift slightly. She hadn’t expected such simple understanding.

“Really? You’re not mad at me?” she asked quietly.

“How could I be? Everyone longs for their home. And yours is Earth. But…” Mika’s voice grew serious, carrying gentle authority, “…until the teleport is fixed, you can’t go anywhere. You’ll have to be patient a little longer.”

Aiko lowered her gaze, gripping the necklace tightly. Relief and frustration mingled in equal measure.

“Home is so close… yet still so far,” she whispered.

She shook her head, fingers trembling over the pendant.

“I’m not myself here. Everything is too… complicated. Too many expectations, too many secrets. There… there I’m just a girl, dreaming under the stars. There is my home.”

Mika knelt slightly, meeting her gaze.

“I understand. But promise me one thing… that you won’t forget me. Remember all the happy moments, the little adventures. No matter where you go.”

Aiko lowered her head, tears spilling silently, gratitude filling her heart.