The Sky Remembers Her

For a moment, Akihiro hesitated, then rose silently into the sky, invisible, angelic, gliding over the rooftops of the rainy city streets.

The bus moved through the downpour, and he followed quietly, a shadow slipping through the rain. Droplets glimmered along his wings, but his attention stayed fixed on the bus—and the girl inside it.

At the next stop, the bus halted.

Akihiro landed soundlessly on a nearby roof, keeping to the shadows. His eyes tracked every movement inside. Her presence pulled at him—heart fluttering, thoughts chaotic. He knew he had to wait.

Every second pulsed with tension: the steady rain, the unbearable proximity, the flickering echo of a memory he couldn’t name but that churned inside him like instinct.

One thing was certain: he had to follow her. Quietly. Unseen.

A subtle shiver ran down her spine. She paused, glancing around. For a moment, she felt it—a presence, intangible, hovering just beyond her senses. A faint familiarity, a whisper of awareness that didn’t belong to anyone she could see.

It’s nothing, she thought, shaking her head. Just my imagination.

Above her, Akihiro froze. The instant his eyes met hers, shock tore through him. Memories—erased by Hinako—flooded back: their laughter, stolen moments, whispered vows. The engagement ring, the promises they had made… it was real. We were real.

It’s her… Aihana.
The angles of her face, the tilt of her head as raindrops clung to her hood—everything burned with painful clarity. His composure cracked, angelic calm collapsing into a trembling certainty.

Aihana stood before the cinema doors. Akihiro exhaled softly: I have to get closer. I have to tell her. I have to—

In that moment, it was no longer just vigilance or restless longing. It was recognition. A connection no memory spell could kill, rising inside him like a sun through fog.

He descended cautiously, each step on the concrete measured and quiet. This was not yet the moment to be seen—but he had to be near her.

Just as he approached, a voice rang out:

“Aihana!”

Ren’s voice, bright and familiar, cut through the rain. He stood near the cinema entrance, smiling easily.

Aihana turned, drops of rain clinging to her hair. She smiled too, though confusion flickered behind her eyes for a brief second—something about his presence tugging at a deeper memory.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting,” Ren said, voice easy and warm.

Akihiro froze. His gaze flicked between Ren’s face and Aihana’s expression—soft, open, unguarded. The weight of it all hit him harder than he expected: Ren was here. Close to her. While he had been gone.

Yet the pull inside him only deepened: Aihana.

Aihana caught her breath, cheeks flushed from running. “Sorry—I hurried,” she said, voice tinged with something she couldn’t name: not attraction, not comfort. A strange tension hummed beneath her words.

Ren guided her gently toward the entrance. “Good thing you made it. Let’s go in—the movie’s about to start.”

Akihiro hovered nearby, unseen. He saw the way her lips curved into a smile for Ren, how she laughed softly at something he said.

A wave of guilt slammed into him. Memories of Hinako stealing her away, of being unable to reach her in time, crashed through his mind. Was I not enough? How could I let her fall? Was this punishment?

Every smile she gave Ren felt like a knife. Not jealousy, but helplessness—sharp and biting, now fueled by fresh memories. Ren was here. And he… he had failed her once already.

Inside the cinema, the light softened. Ren leaned closer—calm, gentle, attentive. “So… how was training?” he asked, his tone relaxed, casual, not rehearsed.

Aihana’s cheeks warmed. “It was… fine,” she replied, eyes flicking away. Her pulse fluttered. Why does this feel familiar? Why… does this hurt?

Ren noticed her hesitation and misread it. “I’m glad you came,” he murmured, moving a fraction closer. “I think we could have something.”

And for a brief second, everything felt natural—but it was a thin, fragile illusion.

Ren leaned forward, his face only inches from hers. “Aihana…” he whispered, soft, careful, hand rising to touch her chin.

Something inside her recoiled sharply.

No. This is wrong.

Her body tensed. Heart racing—not with anticipation, but resistance.

“P-please… don’t,” she whispered, withdrawing. “It’s too soon.”

Ren froze, surprised, but Aihana’s expression said it all: she wasn’t rejecting him entirely—but something inside her recoiled from that closeness. Something that whispered: not him.

Ren nodded gently after a moment, masking the sting. “I understand,” he said quietly. “I won’t rush you.”

Her heart thudded with confused relief. Subtle tension coiled in her chest—mysterious, familiar, unresolved.

Hidden in the shadows, Akihiro felt every ripple of that interaction. Helpless again. But hope flickered too: she stood her ground. She didn’t give in.

Outside, rain slid down the windows; inside, stillness wrapped around them like fog. Every whisper, every confused glance from Aihana struck Akihiro like lightning: She’s still herself.

The movie played on. Blue and silver light danced across their faces. Aihana leaned just slightly toward Ren, smiling politely. But inside her, everything was turmoil.

Akihiro’s pulse quickened. Memories rolled like thunder. He couldn’t move yet—but something was shifting.

When the movie ended and the lights rose, Aihana and Ren stepped out into soft rain, the night air muted and silver.

Ren smiled gently. “Thanks for tonight, Aihana.”

Aihana smiled back. “It was… nice.” Her thoughts were a mess, a knot of confusion and restless questions. 

Ren offered his hand and walked her to the bus stop. They waited together in quiet, a subtle tension threading between them—promising, but uncertain.

“Would you like to do this again? Maybe coffee… tomorrow?” Ren asked, honest, hopeful.

Aihana hesitated. Her heart pounded. “Sure,” she whispered. “But let’s take it slow. I need… time.”

Ren nodded. “Of course,” he said softly. “Tomorrow, then. Just the two of us.”

The bus arrived. Aihana climbed aboard; Ren watched her go, hopeful.

Akihiro lingered above the stop, invisible. Heart aching yet fierce: I saw it. She still pauses. She still questions her feelings. I’m not too late.

He followed her home from above, the rain easing into a gentle drizzle. Watching over her as he once did, his wings spread wide, shielded by silence and night.
She reached her street safely. Inside her room, she glanced through the window once before closing it.

Akihiro watched her silhouette framed in the glass. Her hair catching faint lamplight, her face contemplative. Every move carved its way into his heart like a vow.

Still her. Still mine to protect. She has to remember.