Forgotten Name

Cold air pressed against Akari’s skin before her eyes even opened.

Something was dripping… a slow, steady tap… tap… tap onto the wooden floor.

Her breathing shook. Her vision lagged behind reality as she forced her eyes to focus on the dimly lit room. Wooden beams. Old plastered walls. A faint smell of burnt ozone and iron.

Then—

“…Akari…”

The voice was barely audible, more of a breath than a sound.

Her heart froze.

Not because she recognized the voice — she didn’t.

But because the tone carried a desperation that pierced through her like a blade.

Akari sat up abruptly, only to feel a sharp sting in her arm. A burn mark. Faint, but deep. She gasped softly.

Then she saw him.

Yuki was collapsed near the door, his back resting against the wall, his hand smeared in dark red. His breaths were shallow, strained, every inhale a silent battle.

“Y-Yuki…?” she whispered, shocked. “Why are you… hurt like this?”

He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were unfocused — not from confusion, but from forcing himself to stay conscious.

“You’re awake… good…” His lips trembled. “I—I wasn’t sure you’d… survive that attack…”

Akari’s heartbeat throbbed in her ears.

Memories of the rooftop.

The hooded man.

The attack.

Blood.

Everything scrambled together, a storm of panic.

“You saved me,” she breathed. “But you— you’re—”

A cough cut her words short.

It wasn’t just a cough.

He spat blood.

Akari froze.

“Don’t move,” she said quickly. “You’ll make it worse—”

“It’s already worse,” Yuki whispered, eyes closing for a second. “The teleportation… takes a toll. Especially with this kind of magic. But it was the only way to get you out alive.”

Akari stared at him, stunned.

Teleportation? With dark magic?

She had never seen him use anything remotely like that.

Her voice trembled. “Yuki… how do you even know magic—?”

He flinched, as if her question wounded him more than his physical injuries.

“That explanation… has to wait,” he forced out. “But there’s something you need to hear. Something more important.”

Akari leaned closer, instinct guiding her even through the confusion and fear.

Yuki’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist with shocking strength for someone so injured. His eyes stared into hers — not desperate now, but burning with a truth too heavy for someone his age.

“Akari… someone has been erased from this world.”

The air stilled.

Erased?

Akari swallowed. “What… do you mean?”

“There was someone important,” Yuki whispered. “Someone we both knew. Someone who shouldn’t be forgotten. A boy—”

Her chest tightened suddenly, painfully.

A flicker.

A silhouette.

Someone sitting alone in the darkness of her dream.

Someone whose voice trembled, “I… want… to protect her.”

She didn’t remember him.

But her heart did.

“A-A boy…?” she whispered, hand trembling without her permission.

“Yes.” Yuki’s voice cracked. “His name is—”

The moment he said it, the room seemed to shrink.

“Yami.”

Something inside her heart screamed.

A feeling surged forward — not a memory, but a pull so strong it left her breathless. A longing. A grief she didn’t understand. The sound of his name echoed inside her chest as if it had lived there for years.

But she remembered nothing.

“Why…” Akari whispered, voice shaking, “why does that name… hurt?”

Yuki’s eyes softened painfully. “Because he mattered to you.”

Her throat closed.

“He mattered to me too,” Yuki continued, voice trembling. “And that man — the hooded one — erased him. From everyone’s memory except mine. I—I think it’s because of the kind of magic I carry…”

He clenched his jaw as another wave of pain wracked through him.

Akari knelt beside him immediately. “Don’t talk anymore. You’re losing too much blood—”

“I don’t have time to stop,” he forced, grabbing her sleeve. “That hooded man… he’s after Yami. Because he has both kinds of magic. Shirokami and Kurokami. No one should hold both — and yet he does.”

Akari’s heartbeat stopped.

Both?

Light and dark?

Her mind spun.

“But what does he want Yami for?” she whispered.

Yuki’s voice lowered to a faint breath.

“For something catastrophic. Something bigger than us… or this town…”

His eyelids flickered.

Akari felt his consciousness slipping. Panic surged inside her.

“Yuki! Stay awake!” She grabbed his shoulders, shaking lightly. “You can’t die here! Not like this!”

He smiled faintly. “I won’t… if you heal me…”

Akari’s breath shuddered.

Her light magic.

Her healing.

She placed her hands over his chest. Warm white light began to gather. It trembled at first — her hands were shaking too much — but then it spread, soft but powerful, wrapping Yuki in a glow that pushed against the darkness eating into him.

He gasped as life flowed back into his veins.

The bleeding slowed.

His breathing steadied.

His color returned.

But the strain on Akari was brutal. Her vision blurred. Her magic flickered violently.

Still — she didn’t stop.

When the light finally faded, she collapsed forward slightly, panting.

Yuki stared at her in awe — and fear.

“You… saved me,” he whispered.

Akari wiped her eyes. “You saved me first.”

The room fell silent.

Only one truth remained between them now:

A name she couldn’t remember

and a boy only one person in the world still did.

Yami.

A name that felt like a wound she couldn’t see.

Akari clenched her fists.

“Yuki…” she whispered, voice trembling but firm. “Tell me everything. Tell me who he is… and why it hurts so much to not remember him.”