The air felt colder that morning, as if the world itself knew something was about to change.
Ili walked beside Kouko, their steps slow, unhurried, yet heavy with something unspoken. The courtyard was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of the autumn wind through the trees, sending golden and crimson leaves swirling around them.
Kouko's pace faltered.
She looked distant—her gaze unfocused, her fingers tightening and loosening at her sides. The usual sharpness in her eyes had dulled, replaced by something far more fragile.
She stopped walking.
Ili felt his chest tighten the moment she turned to face him, her expression caught somewhere between determination and heartbreak. There was an intensity in her eyes that made his heart stutter, as if whatever she was about to say would rewrite everything between them.
"…Ili."
Her voice was quiet but steady.
His throat went dry. He tried to smile, tried to keep things light, but even he could tell it didn't reach his eyes. "You're scaring me, Kouko."
She didn't smile back.
Instead, she took a deep breath, her hands clenching slightly. "…There's something I need to say, but I don't even know where to start."
He swallowed, his throat tight. "You're scaring me, Kouko," he said, trying to smile, but it came out wrong—forced, unconvincing. "What's going on?"
She drew in a deep breath, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. "I've been waiting for this moment," she said, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Waiting for you to realize what's happening. But you never do, and it breaks my heart every time."
Her words sent a shiver down his spine. "I don't understand," he whispered. "What do you mean? Realize what?"
Kouko's gaze flickered with anguish, and she bit her lip as if trying to hold back something painful. "You feel it too, don't you?" she asked, her voice shaking. "That sense of repetition? The feeling that things aren't quite… right? Like your memories are slipping through your fingers?"
Ili froze. The déjà vu he'd been struggling with crashed over him in waves, leaving him momentarily breathless.
"I mean, yeah, I've been feeling… off," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But everyone has weird moments of déjà vu. It's normal, right?"
A tear slipped down Kouko's cheek. She wiped it away quickly, as if ashamed of showing so much vulnerability.
"I wish it were that simple," she murmured. "But it's not."
Her heartbeat pounded against her ribs, uneven, almost dizzying. A strange warmth spread through her chest, creeping up to her temples. She swallowed, forcing herself to stay steady.
"Ili, there's more going on than you realize," she continued, her voice slightly strained. "And I've been trying to find the right moment to tell you."
He took a step closer, a sinking feeling twisting in his gut. "Tell me what?"
Kouko exhaled shakily. The air around her suddenly felt heavy, suffocating. A dull pressure began building behind her eyes, her vision tinged with a faint haze. She blinked rapidly, trying to push past the sensation.
"That you're not imagining it," she said softly. "That you're losing something, over and over. It's like a cruel game that resets before we can ever get anywhere."
Ili stared at her, the weight of her words pressing down on him. "Kouko, I don't… I don't understand."
A sharp pang ran through her skull, making her grip her sleeve tightly. No—not now. Not when she was finally getting the chance to say something.
Her hands trembled as she reached out but hesitated, letting them fall back to her sides. "I can't explain everything right now," she whispered, her voice breaking.
The warmth in her body grew unbearable, pulsing beneath her skin. She clenched her jaw, breathing carefully through her nose.
"But you need to know that you're not alone," she forced out. "And that whatever's happening to you— You're not imagining it and it's not your fault."
Her legs felt weak, the world shifting slightly beneath her feet. But she fought to hold his gaze, willing herself to stay standing, to stay present.
Ili's expression tightened, concern flickering in his eyes. "Kouko, are you okay? You don't look—"
"I'm fine," she cut in, too quickly.
His brow furrowed, but she smiled—small, weak, but enough to keep him from pressing further.
For now.
A stunned silence fell between them, broken only by the whisper of the wind. Ili's mind spun, grasping at the fragments of her confession, trying to make sense of the puzzle she had placed before him.
"Not my fault?" he repeated, more to himself than to her. "Then what is this? Why does it feel like—"
"Like time keeps slipping?" Kouko finished for him, her eyes searching his face. "Because it does. And I'm so sorry, Ili. I'm sorry I haven't told you before, but I was scared. Scared that telling you wouldn't make a difference… that it might only make things worse."
Her voice cracked on the last word. Ili found himself reaching out, his hand hovering in the air between them. He wanted to comfort her, to ease the pain written so clearly across her face, but he didn't know how. He didn't even know if he could.
"Kouko," he whispered, barely holding steady. "What are you keeping from me? Please… I need to know."
She pulled back slightly, her hands gripping her scarf as though clinging to something that could hold her together. Her gaze softened, emotions swirling in her eyes—relief, longing, and something deeper.
"I wish I could explain everything," she murmured, her voice fragile, barely audible above the wind. "But not yet. Trust me, Ili. The most important thing is… we kept our promise. You found your way back."
Ili blinked, the weight of her words sinking in. His fingers instinctively curled around the pendant hanging from his neck, the cool metal pressing against his skin. For the first time, it didn't feel like a meaningless trinket—it felt like something far greater, an anchor to a promise he didn't fully understand.
"Kouko… what does this mean?" he asked, his voice trembling as he held up the pendant.
She only gave him a bittersweet smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"One day, you'll know," she said softly. "And when you do, I'll be waiting."
Before he could respond, she took a step back—then faltered.
Her breath hitched, a quiet gasp escaping her lips. A flicker of panic flashed in her eyes, barely concealed beneath forced composure.
Ili noticed it then—the way her hands trembled against her scarf, the uneven rise and fall of her chest. Her posture wavered, unsteady.
"Kouko?" He stepped forward, his concern sharpening. "Hey, are you—"
Her knees buckled.
"Kouko!"
Ili lunged forward just in time to catch her before she collapsed completely. Her weight pressed against him, light yet alarmingly lifeless. Her head lolled slightly, her breaths shallow, uneven.
Panic surged through him.
"Kouko! Kouko, wake up!" He shook her slightly, but she didn't stir.
His mind raced. Where does she live? Who do I call?
He had no answers—only the sinking realization that he couldn't leave her like this.
Without wasting another second, he gathered her into his arms and started running.
The small clinic was quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of a clock on the far wall. The sharp scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, sterile and unnerving.
Ili sat beside the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. His eyes remained fixed on Kouko's sleeping form, his thoughts a tangled mess of worry and unanswered questions.
She looked peaceful now, her breathing steady, her face relaxed. But just hours ago, she had been standing in front of him, unraveling like a thread pulled too tightly.
The doctor had spoken to him earlier, explaining the situation in calm, measured words. Exhaustion. Stress. A physical reaction to prolonged strain. Nothing life-threatening, but serious enough that she needed rest.
Even so, Ili couldn't shake the unease in his chest.
He exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples.
Reflection While She Sleeps
Ili stood frozen for several moments, Kouko's words replaying in his mind like a haunting melody.
"You're not imagining it. It's not your fault."
The cryptic nature of her confession weighed on him, pressing against his chest like an invisible force.
He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head toward the ceiling. What did she mean by "we kept our promise"? What promise? And why did she look at him like she was holding onto something fragile, something slipping through her fingers?
His hand drifted to the pendant resting against his collarbone.
"You found your way back."
The words echoed in his mind, stirring something deep inside him—something familiar yet unreachable.
He clenched his jaw.
Nothing made sense, and yet…
His gaze returned to Kouko. Her soft, steady breathing was the only sound in the room now. The warmth of the lamp cast a golden glow over her face, making her look almost ethereal.
Ili sighed. What are you not telling me, Kouko?
For now, she was asleep.
And for now, he would wait.
The rhythmic ticking of the clock on the far wall blended into the faint hum of the air conditioning. The soft glow of the lamp cast elongated shadows across the quiet room. Ili sat beside the bed, his arms resting on his knees, his eyes never leaving Kouko's sleeping face.
She hadn't stirred in hours.
His chest ached at the sight of her. She looked so fragile like this—so unlike the Kouko he knew. The strong-willed, teasing girl who always carried a spark in her eyes. Now, she lay still, her breathing soft and steady, yet something about it felt… heavy.
Ili let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair. Why do I feel like… I almost lost her?
A movement caught his eye.
A single tear slipped down Kouko's cheek.
His heart clenched. A sudden, overwhelming feeling crashed over him—raw, deep, unexplainable. He didn't know why, but in that moment, it felt as though her pain was his own, as though something invisible bound them together.
Without thinking, he leaned closer, his fingers brushing gently against her face as he wiped the tear away. His touch was soft, lingering for just a second longer than necessary, his thumb tracing the warmth of her skin.
Then—
A sharp inhale.
Kouko's eyes flew open.
Her breath hitched as she jolted upright, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her gaze darted around the dimly lit room, wild and desperate. Her lips trembled.
"Ili?" she whispered, her voice hoarse, uncertain.
But there was no response.
No one was there.
Her heart dropped. A suffocating sense of dread coiled around her ribs. She clutched the bedsheets, fingers digging into the fabric. Her breathing grew unsteady. No… No, no, no.
It had felt so real. The warmth, the touch—his presence. But now?
Gone.
Just like before.
Just like in her nightmare.
The Nightmare
It started warm.
Golden light filtering through the trees. The scent of spring. A gentle breeze. Kouko turned—and there he was.
Ili, standing just a few steps away.
His expression was soft, a quiet warmth in his eyes. His hand reached for hers.
A sense of peace washed over her, deep and unwavering. For the first time in what felt like forever, everything was right.
Then—
The wind howled.
The warmth vanished, replaced by an icy, bone-chilling cold.
The sky darkened. The trees blurred.
And Ili—
He was fading.
His figure flickered, pieces of him dissolving into the air like sand slipping through her fingers.
"Ili!" She ran toward him, panic rising. "Ili, wait—don't go!"
He smiled. But it was wrong. Faint. Distant.
"You have to wake up now."
His voice was already fading.
"No! I don't want to—"
And suddenly Kouko woke up with a sharp gasp.
Her body tensed, her breath ragged. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, the lingering terror of the dream still gripping her.
She blinked rapidly, her vision blurry. The dim glow of the hospital lamp came into focus, casting soft, golden light over the room.
Her pulse pounded in her ears.
Then she noticed—
The room was empty.
Her stomach twisted violently.
She clutched the bedsheets, her fingers digging into the fabric.
No… No, no, no.
"Ili?" she called out, her voice barely above a whisper.
Silence.
Her heart dropped.
Was it all just a dream?
Her breath hitched. Was he never here at all?
Tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them. A choked sob tore from her throat as she pressed a trembling hand against her lips.
No… not again…
Her body curled in on itself, shoulders shaking. Her entire world felt like it was slipping away, like the dream had bled into reality and stolen everything with it.
The door creaked open.
A soft gasp escaped her lips.
She whipped her head toward the entrance—
And there he was.
Ili stood in the doorway, a bag of snacks in one hand, two bottled drinks in the other.
His eyes widened slightly at her, as if caught off guard. His lips parted, like he wanted to say something, but no words came.
For a single second, time seemed to freeze.
Kouko stared at him, her vision still blurred by tears.
Emotions crashed over her—relief, disbelief, fear, longing. It was too much, too fast.
Ili blinked, confused. Then, slowly, he smiled. "You're awake."
Her breath hitched. He's real. He's here.
Kouko tried to move, but the moment she did, pain shot through her body. She winced, gripping the sheets.
Ili's expression turned to concern instantly. "Hey, don't push yourself."
But she didn't care.
She clenched her jaw, forcing her body to move, to reach him. Her legs were too weak to stand, but that didn't matter.
Because the moment Ili stepped closer—
She pulled herself up and wrapped her arms around him.
Tightly.
Ili stiffened, caught off guard. "Kouko—?"
She didn't answer.
She couldn't.
The weight of everything—her fear, her exhaustion, her relief—came crashing down all at once.
She buried her face against his shoulder, her body trembling violently as sobs wracked through her.
Ili felt it. The way she clung to him, as if afraid he'd disappear. The way her fingers gripped his shirt, refusing to let go.
His heart ached at the sound of her crying.
"Kouko…" he whispered, his voice soft, careful.
She only shook her head, gripping him tighter.
She couldn't stop.
She had held it in for too long.
Ili exhaled slowly, his arms wrapping around her. He pulled her closer, resting his chin lightly on top of her head.
He closed his eyes.
He didn't understand everything—not yet.
But right now, all that mattered was that she was here.
And so was he.