Morning drifted quietly into the Hoshizora household.
A soft drizzle tapped the windows, weaving a melancholy rhythm through the rooms. Toshio awoke to that gentle sound, blinking at the gray ceiling. For a moment, the world felt still — as if wrapped in a thin, calm veil.
He turned.
The bed beside him was empty.
Her pillow still held the faint shadow of her warmth, but Mina was gone.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. "Mina?"
Usually, she woke much later. She loved slow mornings — especially the ones when she could bury her face in his chest and pretend the world didn't exist.
But this morning…
He felt the absence before he understood it.
Quiet, lingering, strange.
He slipped out of bed, pulled on a loose shirt, and walked toward the kitchen. The air smelled faintly of chamomile tea. He turned the corner—
And stopped.
Mina stood by the window, facing away, wrapped in one of his shirts that reached just past her thighs. Her bare legs touched the cool floor; her hair was loose, spilling over her back like black silk.
But she wasn't humming like usual.
She wasn't tapping her fingers, or swaying, or arranging little stars on the windowsill.
She was still.
Completely.
"Hey," Toshio said softly.
She didn't move.
Only when the rain deepened its rhythm outside did she finally speak.
"Toshio… does it scare you?"
His brows furrowed. "What does?"
"This." She gestured to the world outside. "Everything being so peaceful."
He stepped closer. "Peaceful is good."
"Is it?" Her voice was soft. "Or is it just fragile?"
He placed a hand on her shoulder. It was warm, but she didn't lean into him like she usually did. She simply looked down at the street below — empty, washed by rain.
"I woke up before dawn," she murmured. "I didn't even realize I was awake until I saw the sky." She laughed lightly. "Humans wake up so easily. In heaven, my body didn't… feel tired or awake. It just existed."
Toshio listened quietly.
"And now, I feel everything," Mina whispered. "Cold air. Warm blankets. The way the rain smells before it falls. The heaviness in my chest when I think too much."
She pressed her hand to her heart.
"This beating… this human heart… it scares me sometimes. Because it means I can break."
Toshio stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her from behind.
"You're allowed to feel afraid," he said against her hair. "Humans aren't strong because we're fearless. We're strong because we keep going anyway."
Mina finally closed her eyes.
"But I don't want to be a burden," she whispered.
Toshio froze.
"A burden?" He turned her gently to face him. "Where is this coming from?"
Her eyes were glassy — not from crying, but from trying not to.
"You're doing so much," she said softly. "You help at the café. You work late. You take care of me, you watch over me, you make sure I don't get overwhelmed by this world… And I… I barely understand how bills work."
He blinked, then exhaled a tiny, helpless laugh. "Mina."
But she shook her head.
"You deserve someone strong. Someone who can match you. Not someone learning how to microwave leftovers at age… however old I am in human years."
Toshio cupped her cheeks. "You're not a burden. Not even close."
"But—"
"Mina." He leaned his forehead against hers. "You've saved me more times than you know."
"When?" she whispered.
"Every time you smile like the world is new."
"Every time you laugh because you learned a new human habit."
"Every time you choose me, even though you could have chosen eternity."
He swallowed.
"You save me every single day."
Mina trembled.
And then—A small, quiet tear rolled down her cheek.
Toshio wiped it with his thumb. "You don't have to be perfect. I don't want a goddess. I want you."
Her lips parted. "But what if someday you realize this normal life is too small? Too boring? You used to live for battles, for heroism. For saving things bigger than love."
Toshio laughed under his breath. "I used to live for survival. Now I live for breakfast with you."
Mina's cheeks warmed with the faintest blush despite her sadness.
He lifted her chin. "Tell me what's wrong. Really."
She hesitated.
Then—
"I heard you talking last night," she whispered.
He froze.
"T-Talking… to who?"
She bit her lip. "To Aya."
Toshio's heart stuttered.
Aya Hoshizora — the memory he'd loved, lost, and mourned.
A shadow of his past.
A quiet name he thought he'd buried.
He exhaled shakily. "Mina… that wasn't— I didn't mean—"
"You said you weren't sure what you would've chosen," she said softly. "If she were still here."
Toshio's breath stopped.
Mina looked down. "I know it's not fair to ask you to forget her. She was part of your soul. But hearing you say that… hearing doubt… I felt like my heart cracked a little."
A silence deeper than rain filled the room.
He stepped closer, holding her arms.
"Mina. Look at me."
She did.
And he told her the truth — not polished, not poetic, but raw and human.
"I didn't say that because I miss her more than I love you. I said that because part of me still blames myself for not saving her. Because part of me wonders if I even deserved to love again."
Her breath caught.
"But loving you… choosing you… it's the first time I've forgiven myself."
Her eyes widened.
"I didn't hesitate because of her," he said. "I hesitated because I didn't know if I was worthy of you."
Mina's lips trembled. "Toshio…"
He pulled her in, hugging her tight — the kind of embrace meant to hold broken pieces together.
She buried her face in his chest.
"So don't ever think you're a burden," he whispered into her hair. "You're the reason I want a future. Not a battlefield. Not a legend. Not the past."
Mina clutched his shirt.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
"I know."
"I don't want to lose you."
"You won't."
"What if one day you wake up and regret staying with me?"
"Then I'll wake up again," he said, "and choose you all over."
Slowly, she relaxed against him. The rain softened outside, like the sky was listening.
They stood like that for a long moment — wrapped in warmth, in fear, in love.
Finally, Mina lifted her head.
"Then… can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"Will you stay with me tomorrow?" she asked. "All day. Just us."
Toshio smiled. "I'll call off work."
"And tonight?" she whispered.
"Tonight," he said, brushing her cheek, "I'm not going anywhere."
She breathed out — the first real breath she'd taken all morning — and nodded.
Then she suddenly frowned.
"…But you did leave the milk frother dirty again, didn't you?"
Toshio blinked. "Wait— how did we get here—?"
Mina poked his chest. "Answer the question."
"I— I might have—"
"You did." She sighed dramatically. "Humans. So flawed."
He stared. "You were just crying a minute ago!"
"I multitask," she said with absolute seriousness.
Toshio groaned and kissed her forehead. "You're impossible."
"And you love me for it."
"Yeah," he whispered. "I really do."
Later That Evening
They lay together on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, Mina tucked into his side. The rain had turned into a soft lullaby.
"Toshio?"
"Mm?"
"Do you think two people can grow together… even if they're afraid?"
He kissed the top of her head. "That's the only way to grow."
She closed her eyes.
"…Then let's grow slowly."
"Together," he said, tightening his arm around her.
"Together," she echoed.
And for the first time since morning, she smiled — not the bright goddess smile, but a small, human smile.
Fragile.
Warm.
Real.
The kind that made Toshio fall in love all over again.