Silent Tremors

Nightfall — Restless Heart

That evening, when the house finally fell silent, Aihana lay on her bed like a tangled knot of emotions, unable to decide whether to explode or simply sink into herself. Her heart hammered, erratic and loud in her chest, as if she were still standing in the middle of the classroom. She felt heat crawling up her neck, a faint shiver of anticipation—or was it dread?—running down her spine. Every muscle in her body buzzed with awareness, and yet she couldn’t move, couldn’t decide which sensation to follow.

Too many stares.

Too much closeness.

And him… Akihiro, impossibly calm, impossibly perfect. The warmth of his presence pressed at her skin, a subtle weight she couldn’t shake, like gravity had shifted in his direction alone.

Outside, Rei perched in the maple tree, silent, hidden beneath a thin veil of angelic concealment. His eyes absorbed everything, every twitch in her aura, restless sparks betraying the careful composure she wore in daylight. He noted the tiny hitch in her breath, the almost imperceptible twitch of her fingers curling around her blanket.

Aihana drifted into a light, uneasy sleep.

The dream came jagged, sharp-edged this time. A girl, alone, stood in a pale meadow beneath a faint, impossible glow. Her wings shimmered like glass in starlight, every movement rippling outward, shaking the earth beneath her feet. Aihana’s chest constricted; her palms damp, her breath short. The vision was familiar, but each iteration pulsed stronger, closer, dangerous. She woke with a sharp intake of air, heart thrumming as if she had been running. Rei noted the tremor in her fingers, the way her aura flared, concern flickering in his eyes. Something inside her refused to be silent.

Morning arrived in slices of gold light. Aihana dressed quietly, hands precise and steady. Miyu waited at the gate, a burst of sunlight in motion, waving with unrestrained energy.

“Good morning!”

They walked toward school, streets slowly stirring.

At the gates of Mitaka High, three figures stood waiting: Akihiro, Ayame, Rei. But the scene wasn’t calm. Around them, the courtyard buzzed with energy. Students froze mid-step, whispers rippling through the crowd. Phones appeared in hands like magic wands, a dozen cameras raising simultaneously. Some girls gasped, boys nudged each other nervously, a few tripped over themselves trying to get a better look. It was as if the air itself reacted to their presence, thickening with anticipation.

Akihiro’s posture remained flawless, eyes scanning like a predator and a guardian all at once. Ayame beside him radiated elegance under tension, a taut line of controlled poise. Rei leaned casually against the wall, half-smirk hidden in shadows, observing every reaction, nothing escaping him. Not even the micro-expression flicker in Aihana’s face when hers and Akihiro's eyes met.

Aihana tried neutrality. Her body refused. Warmth, tension, a pull she could neither define nor resist. Not a dream. Not last night. Him. That quiet, insistent presence that rattled her more than she would admit.

The gym echoed with chaos during volleyball. Aihana watched from the sidelines, chest tight, pulse quick. Miyu bounced, impossibly bright, in the center of excitement. Akihiro’s gaze found her more often than the ball, cutting through the noise like a silent blade.

The ball shot toward Aihana. Reflex sharpened. Palm met volleyball with a precision that silenced half the gym. Miyu cheered. Akihiro raised an eyebrow.

Then he stepped onto the court. The air shifted. Silence stretched like a held breath. His first return was flawless, impossibly fluid. The ball flew toward Aihana. Her muscles tightened, and she met his gaze—challenge and quiet curiosity shimmering in his eyes.

Volley after volley, he moved like a dancer. Every girl on the opposing team faltered. Aihana tried to remain detached, but heat rose to her cheeks, wild, unbidden. Not from losing. From him.

After the match, Miyu hugged her.

“You were amazing!”

“…Thanks,” Aihana muttered, voice low, still feeling the residual pull of Akihiro’s presence. Across the court, his expression softened just enough to unbalance her. He approached quietly.

“Your play was impressive,” he murmured. “The result doesn’t matter. You showed strength.”

Blinking, Aihana struggled to reconcile his words with the steady storm in her chest. Then Ayame appeared, grinning, dragging him away. One last glance at her. Ayame noticed. A flicker of something sharp twisted inside her.

I won’t let her get close. Not her. Not him.

During lessons, Aihana sketched. Fingers trembled slightly. Pencil hovered, hesitant. Akihiro paused beside her.

“…This is good,” he whispered. “Your imagination is exceptional.”

Heat surged. Her pencil wavered. Pressing harder yielded nothing. Ink exploded across her palm. She hissed, smearing it in frustration. His quiet laughter, barely restrained, made her jaw clench. Finally, she accepted the offered pencil. “…Thanks,” she muttered. Shoulders relaxing just a fraction.

Miyu observed silently, curious. Ayame noticed everything. Tiny, icy fractures forming in her chest as she realized Akihiro had never smiled like this at anyone before. Tension lingered, a living thing between them—thin, silky, inevitable.

After school, walking behind the trio, Aihana’s senses brushed their auras. Too composed. Too radiant. Akihiro’s hair lifted in a deliberate breeze. Leaves stirred. Pulse spiked, uneven, a thrill and a warning in one.

“If you want… we can join them,” Aihana whispered. Miyu seized her hand, tugging her forward. Miyu talked; Aihana followed silently, tangled in her thoughts. Akihiro noticed subtle unease.

At the crossroads, Miyu waved off; Akihiro offered a faint, quiet smile. Aihana felt warmth cascade like liquid fire in her chest. She nodded softly, retreating before her own mind consumed her.

Back in her room, lamp soft, Aihana pulled out her half-finished angel sketch. Wings perfect, posture poised, eyes clear. Only the face remained.

Pencil lifted. Lines formed as if drawn by something unseen—magnetic, inevitable. Contours familiar. Gaze irresistible. Akihiro’s face. Urban magic hummed faintly in the air, brushing her skin with delicate sparks of energy. The city itself seemed to lean closer, guiding her hand. Her chest thrummed, heart a wild drum.

Tomorrow loomed: the school art competition. She would represent her class. She had no idea what she would paint. Excitement and fear tangled together, raw, coiling energy that refused to be ignored.

Exhausted, she crawled into bed, holding the sketch close. Whispered into the darkness:

“I wanted not to be affected… not like the other girls. But every day, I think of you more. I shouldn’t.”

Sketch placed on the nightstand, she turned onto her side, drifting into restless sleep.

Outside, Rei watched from the maple tree. Balcony door cracked open; soft wind lifted the sketch. Rei caught it effortlessly, his fingers closing around the paper before it could escape into the night. He unfolded it and smiled.

“Just as I thought. Almost nothing gets past me”.

He glanced at Aihana, tense in another nightmare. Rolled the sketch, tucked it into his pocket.

“I’ll keep this secret for now, Aihana,” he murmured. Settled against the branch, watching as night deepened.