Shadows and Holograms

The Control Hall hummed softly—holograms flickering with shifting maps and energy readings that pulsed like veins of light over the city. Akihiro stood at the main console, posture straight as ever, eyes sharp and distant. His gaze traced every flicker across the holographic display, following faint demonic signatures as if he could feel them crawling through the streets below.

Rei appeared at the doorway, hands in his pockets, gaze unreadable. “She’s awake.”

Akihiro’s head snapped up. For the first time in days, something sparked in his eyes—hope, fear, everything at once. He took a step forward, but Rei moved in front of him, blocking the path. “Maybe you should give her a little time.”

Akihiro froze. “What do you mean?” His tone remained calm, but the tension coiling in his posture betrayed him, subtle yet undeniable.

Rei leaned against the console, the glow of the holograms painting his face in shades of electric blue. “Mizuki messaged. Sora tried to call, but Aihana stopped her. She needs time to process… before she faces you.”

For a long moment, Akihiro said nothing. The soft hum of the holograms filled the silence like static, faintly vibrating through his chest.

The air between them thickened. Akihiro’s jaw tightened. “So… I just wait?”

“Don’t be surprised if it shook her. Let her breathe,” Rei said, calm as ever.

Akihiro’s eyes remained locked on the glowing map, the city’s streets reflected in the deep green of his irises. “Waiting is harder than any battle,” he murmured.

“Welcome to being human,” Rei said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Akihiro didn’t answer. He simply stared at the map, but his mind had drifted far from the Control Hall.

Aihana’s Room

Moonlight slipped quietly through the curtains, silvering the edges of Aihana’s bed. Her breath came in shallow bursts, her body taut with tension. The same dreams haunted her again, shadows clawing at the edges of her mind. A whisper of fear escaped her lips as she twisted beneath the sheets.

Then—faint footsteps on the balcony.

Akihiro stood there, the dim light tracing the lines of exhaustion on his face. He hadn’t planned to come. He had promised Rei he would stay away. But he knew—knew that these dreams had become a nightly cycle of torment.

Aihana’s hands were clenched tight in the blanket, trembling.

He sat at the edge of her bed and hesitated, then slowly reached out—his fingertips brushing hers.

The moment their skin touched, the air shifted. Shadows scattered like smoke. Her breathing eased. The tension drained from her body.

Akihiro watched her face soften, fear melting from her features. He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

For a few seconds, he simply stayed there—hand in hers, warmth steady, quiet, grounding.

“Rest,” he whispered. “I’m here.”

She didn’t wake, but a faint smile flickered across her lips, as if she had sensed him deep in her dreams.

Morning Light

Golden sunlight crept across the sheets. Aihana blinked, the fog of sleep still clinging. Her fingers brushed the spot beside her pillow—warm.

She froze.

Again. The warmth. The same faint scent in the air, clean and familiar.

Her heart gave a small, traitorous flutter. She didn’t need to guess. Akihiro had been there again.

For a moment, she lay still, staring at the ceiling. The images of her dreams felt distant, like echoes fading into mist. She remembered how fear always vanished the instant she felt his touch. It couldn’t be coincidence.

But why?

She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat—fast, uncertain. “Akihiro…” she whispered under her breath.

He was an angel. A being of light and duty. She was… just a girl. A human with power and feelings she didn’t fully understand.

It shouldn’t matter.
It couldn’t matter.

And yet, every time she woke and found that trace of warmth beside her, a part of her refused to let go—
that maybe, somewhere deep in that calm and distant heart, she mattered more than he would admit.

Academy Gardens

The air in the Academy gardens was cool, filled with the scent of blooming irises. Aihana walked slowly, each step careful. The other girls stayed close, ready to steady her if she stumbled. Her skin was still pale, her energy fragile, yet she was outside—away from the sterile quiet of her room.

Near the marble archway, two figures appeared: Rei—and beside him, Akihiro.

Aihana stopped at once.

The world seemed to shrink. Sounds faded into distant murmurs. Akihiro’s eyes met hers—calm, steady, the same deep green that had haunted her dreams and soothed her fears. For a heartbeat, neither moved.

Rei’s glance flicked between them but wisely remained silent.

Akihiro stepped closer, just enough to be polite, careful not to let emotion spill through. “I’m glad to see you recovering. You gave everyone quite a scare.”

Aihana managed a faint smile. “I… I’m getting better.” Her voice was quiet, almost fragile.

“That’s good,” he said, nodding once. “Take it slow. You don’t need to rush anything.”

For a second, the calm in his tone wavered, gaze softening only slightly, just enough for her to feel it. Then he looked away, as if remembering who he was supposed to be.

The girls watched in silence. Rei cleared his throat. “We’ll let you rest—no training until you fully recover,” he said, breaking the spell.

Aftermath

The moment Akihiro and Rei disappeared around the corner, the silence shattered.

Sora was first. “Okay, spill it.”

“What?” Aihana blinked.

Kaori crossed her arms. “What happened that night in the amusement park?”

Hikari leaned in, eyes wide with mock seriousness. “You fainted, woke up half-dead, Akihiro isn’t himself, and he looks at you like you’re made of glass. Something happened.”

Mizuki added quietly, “And Rei told me Akihiro almost destroyed the barrier himself just to get to you.”

Aihana’s face went pale, then flushed scarlet. “That’s not—he just did what he had to.”

“Sure,” Sora smirked. “He had to stare at you like that just now too, right?”

“Stop it!” Aihana protested, clutching her long cardigan. “Nothing like that happened!”

“Then why wouldn’t you let me call him when you woke up?” Sora pressed. “You basically panicked!”

Aihana turned away, softer now. “Because…”

The others fell silent for a beat. Even Sora’s teasing expression faded.

Aihana looked down, the steam from her tea hiding her face. “He knows I love him.”

The reaction was immediate.

“Finally!” Sora threw her hands up.

Hikari grinned. “Honestly, you’ve been glowing like a light bulb every time he’s around.”

Kaori smirked. “You didn’t exactly hide it well.”

Aihana hid her face in her hands. “You all knew?”

“Please,” Mizuki said, laughing. “Even Rei knows. Which means Akihiro definitely knows.”

Aihana’s voice trembled slightly. “During the fight… he told me to use the love I feel—for him… That’s what broke Ravukaru’s hold.”

For a heartbeat, silence. Then a drawn-out, synchronized, “Ohhhhhh…” rose from the group.

The girls exchanged looks—part awe, part panic, part excitement.

Hikari gasped. “Wait… so his and your life were literally saved by your love?”

“Epic,” Sora finished.

Aihana smiled faintly. “Yeah. Tell me about it.”

The laughter slowly faded. Aihana’s smile wavered, then vanished altogether. Hands tightened around the cup, gaze drifting toward the distant fountain.

“I can’t face him,” she murmured softly.

The others fell silent. Even Sora didn’t dare joke this time.

Aihana’s voice trembled. “He’s… everything I’m not. An angel, a leader. And I’m… just a human girl with power.” She drew a shaky breath, eyes glistening. “He probably doesn’t feel even half of what I feel for him.”

Kaori frowned, reaching out, but Aihana shook her head.

“And even if he did,” she continued quietly, “there are so many things standing between us. Rules. Duty. The entire balance between heaven and earth.” She gave a small, helpless laugh. “Love isn’t supposed to break worlds apart.”

The group sat in heavy silence, the only sound the rustling leaves above them.

Then Hikari whispered, “Maybe it’s not about breaking them apart. Maybe it’s about changing them.”

Aihana looked up, eyes wide and uncertain, but there was a flicker of warmth behind them—faint, fragile hope.