That evening, they sat under the rusted playground slide behind the school—somewhere they had once played as kids, now forgotten by most. The sun dipped low, casting long, amber shadows across the cracked pavement.
Aira hugged her knees, eyes locked on the horizon. "I thought I was losing my mind," she said. "The dreams kept getting worse. Like… pieces of a movie I didn't watch. But every time I saw you in them, I felt safe."
Yuto couldn't meet her gaze. "You're not crazy. The dreams… they're memories. Of previous loops."
She turned toward him. "How many times have you watched me die?"
He hesitated.
"Five."
Her breath hitched. "Always the same way?"
"No. Sometimes it's fire. Once it was an accident. Once—" he swallowed—"you just disappeared. Like the world erased you."
Aira closed her eyes. "Why me?"
"I don't know. But each time, it's the same week. And the loop always ends with your death."
Lightning flickered in the distance—out of place in the clear sky.
They both looked up.
"That's new," Aira murmured. "Do you think it's… them?"
Yuto narrowed his eyes. "Them?"
She nodded slowly. "I can't explain it, but every time I wake up, I feel something watching. Not human. Not kind. Like something is using me to keep the loop stable."
A chill ran down Yuto's spine.
"Then we need to break it," he said. "Together."
Aira gave a soft, determined nod. "We will."
That night, as they parted ways, Yuto stared at the sky above his apartment building.
The stars… were shifting.
Like the universe itself had heard their promise.
And it was preparing its response.
---