The wind settled, leaving behind a strange, heavy stillness. Haruto stood on the veranda, his brush still in hand, as the amber-eyed woman waited, her gaze unwavering. Hana approached cautiously, her hands nervously clutching her apron.
Sayo's calm presence seemed to steady the atmosphere, and she spoke first. "Why don't you come inside? You look like you've been traveling for a while."
The woman hesitated, glancing back at the road as if afraid of being followed, but eventually nodded. "Thank you."
Haruto stepped aside to make room, his thoughts swirling with unease. Once seated at a low wooden table, the woman removed her hood, revealing long chestnut hair that caught the sunlight in shades of copper. Hana offered her a cup of tea, and she accepted it with a quiet nod.
"My name is Akane," she said, her voice softer now. "I heard about your painting from a villager passing through last night. They said you could capture feelings in your art... things that words can't convey."
Haruto looked down at his paint-stained hands, uncertain. "I don't know if I can do that," he admitted.
Sayo gave him a gentle nudge. "Your painting yesterday certainly did. Sometimes we underestimate the power of our own creations."
Akane's gaze flickered between them before she took a deep breath. "There's something precious that I need painted—a memory. It's... slipping away from me. No matter how hard I try to recall it, it feels like sand slipping through my fingers."
Hana furrowed her brows. "A memory? Are you... losing your memories?"
Akane hesitated, her hands trembling slightly as she set the teacup down. "It's not just forgetting... it's like the memory itself is being erased. I used to remember it clearly—a promise made under the full moon, in a field just like this one. But every time I try to picture it now, it feels... empty."
Haruto watched her struggle to explain, and something in his chest tightened. He knew what it was like to lose inspiration, but this was different—deeper, more frightening.
"How did you hear about me?" he asked cautiously.
"There's a rumor among travelers," Akane said, eyes distant. "A painter who brings lost memories to life through his brush. I didn't think much of it at first, but when I heard about your work here, I thought... maybe it's true."
Haruto felt a surge of disbelief. A rumor about him? He'd never intended his art to be anything more than an escape—a way to express the ache in his heart. Yet somehow, his paintings had stirred something beyond his understanding.
Sayo leaned forward, her expression thoughtful. "Tell us more about the promise. Maybe speaking of it will help you remember."
Akane nodded, though uncertainty clouded her features. "It was... long ago. I was just a child. There was a boy who used to visit our village. His family were merchants, always moving from place to place. One summer night, under the full moon, we promised to meet again when the lavender bloomed. It was a childish vow, but it meant everything to me."
Her voice faltered, and she gripped the fabric of her cloak tightly. "But now... I can't remember his face. I don't even know his name. It's like he's vanishing from my mind, little by little."
Hana's eyes widened in sympathy. "That sounds awful... like losing a part of yourself."
Haruto thought about his own fading passion for painting—the way the colors had stopped speaking to him until just recently. He couldn't imagine what it would feel like to lose a memory tied to someone important.
"Do you have anything from that time?" he asked gently.
Akane thought for a moment, then reached into her satchel and pulled out a faded ribbon. It was lavender in color, though the hue had faded with age. "He tied this around my wrist that night. Said it would remind me of our promise."
Haruto took the ribbon, feeling the worn fabric between his fingers. There was something achingly nostalgic about it—like the remnant of a story longing to be told.
"I'll try," he said softly. "I'll paint what I feel from this. Maybe it'll help bring the memory back."
A flicker of hope lit up Akane's face, and she gave a small, grateful nod. "Thank you... I know it's a strange request, but I have nowhere else to turn."
As she settled onto the veranda, Haruto gathered his canvas and paints, his mind already spinning with possibilities. He set the ribbon beside him and dipped his brush in the soft lavender pigment.
At first, the strokes were hesitant, as he tried to capture the feeling the ribbon evoked—a sense of fleeting innocence and tender promises. Gradually, his hands moved with more certainty, guided by an inexplicable sense of purpose. The colors blended into shades of twilight, and silhouettes formed—a boy and a girl standing among the lavender, hands linked as the moon bathed them in silver light.
The painting seemed to breathe, alive with memories not his own. Haruto felt a strange tug at his heart, as if the story wanted to be heard, even as it fought to remain hidden.
When he finally stepped back, the scene on the canvas was soft yet vivid—a memory captured at the edge of vanishing. Akane moved closer, eyes wide as she took in the image.
Tears filled her eyes, and she covered her mouth with trembling fingers. "That's it... that's the night... I remember now."
Sayo and Hana exchanged glances, their faces touched with relief. Haruto, though exhausted, felt a swell of accomplishment. Yet, beneath his satisfaction lingered a gnawing doubt—why did painting this feel so... different?
Akane wiped her tears and looked at him gratefully. "Thank you. You brought it back... but why was it fading in the first place?"
Haruto pondered that question, unsure how to answer. Memories didn't just vanish like that—especially not the cherished ones. Just as he was about to speak, the ground seemed to hum faintly, and a gust of wind swept through the veranda, scattering lavender petals.
Akane stiffened, her face paling. "Something's coming..."
Sayo's eyes narrowed as she glanced at the road. "Hana, stay close."
Out of the lavender field emerged a figure cloaked in gray, moving with deliberate, graceful steps. The stranger's presence sent a chill down Haruto's spine. As they approached, they lowered their hood, revealing a man with piercing jade eyes and a calm, almost unnatural composure.
He glanced at the painting, then at Akane. "So, you managed to recall it after all," he mused, his tone devoid of warmth.
"Who are you?" Haruto demanded, instinctively stepping between the man and Akane.
The stranger smiled faintly. "Just a keeper of memories. Some things are meant to fade. I'm merely ensuring that nature takes its course."
Akane clutched Haruto's sleeve, panic filling her eyes. "Please... don't let him take it away again!"
Haruto's mind raced. "Why are you doing this? Why make her forget?"
The man tilted his head. "Some memories are burdens—chains that prevent souls from moving forward. I simply help release them."
Sayo took a firm step forward. "Memories aren't yours to take. They belong to those who hold them."
The man gave a quiet, almost wistful sigh. "Interfering will only make it worse. Memories like hers... they're fragile, and forcing them to stay may cause them to shatter completely."
Haruto clenched his fists, feeling an unfamiliar determination ignite within him. "Then I'll paint it again and again if I have to. You won't take this from her."
The stranger's expression darkened, but before he could respond, a sudden gust of wind pushed him back. Lavender petals swirled around Akane, as if shielding her from harm. The man's eyes narrowed before he turned and vanished into the field, his presence melting away like mist.
As the calm returned, Akane sank to her knees, overwhelmed but relieved. Sayo knelt beside her, offering comfort, while Hana let out a shaky breath.
Haruto looked at his hands, paint still clinging to his fingertips. For the first time in a long while, he felt not just purpose but a responsibility—to protect not only his own dreams but those of others seeking solace in their memories.
But as he glanced at the painting, he couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was just the beginning—and that more secrets lay hidden within the lavender fields.
---
To be continued...