Airi's door clicked gently shut, leaving Toshio standing alone in the quiet hallway. The faint scent of her shampoo lingered in the air—soft and calming, like jasmine after rain. He placed his hand against the door for a brief moment, not knocking, not speaking. Just feeling the quiet warmth radiating from the other side.
She was really back.
Not Mina.
Not the fragile ghost of who she once was.
But Airi.
It still felt unreal. Too good. Too delicate. Like if he moved too loudly, she would slip through his fingers again. But tonight felt different. Airi had spoken with her own voice. Smiled without fear. Reached out on her own.
She had even asked for his company because she wanted it… not because she needed it.
Toshio exhaled slowly, letting his back rest against the wall before heading to his room. Sleep came easier than usual—no tension, no fear. Only relief.
For the first time in a long time, he slept deeply.
And Airi slept peacefully.
The world felt right.
Morning sunlight filtered through Toshio's window, painting soft gold across the floorboards. He blinked away sleep, stretched, and sat up. His first thought wasn't about school or breakfast.
It was her.
Airi.
He stepped into the hallway quietly and paused outside her door again, instinctively listening. Not out of fear, but out of habit. But this morning, instead of silence, he heard humming.
Light, gentle, almost shy humming.
He smiled.
She was awake.
And she was okay.
He knocked once. "Airi? Good morning."
The door opened a sliver, enough for her to peek through with wide, sleepy eyes. Her hair was slightly messy, a sign she had slept comfortably. She blinked at him twice before whispering, "Good morning, Toshio."
Her voice was warm and a little embarrassed.
"You woke up early," he said.
"I didn't want to keep you waiting," she admitted softly. "We're walking together today, right?"
He nodded. "Yeah. From the very start."
Airi hesitated, fingers lightly touching the edge of the door. "Then… can you wait for me in the kitchen? I'll be ready soon."
"Of course."
Her eyes curved faintly in a small smile before the door closed.
Toshio stood there for a moment longer, heart warming at how normal everything felt. Not tense. Not treated like something that might break. Just two people starting a simple day together.
Airi entered the kitchen ten minutes later, wearing her school uniform with the ribbon tied neatly in her hair. She looked brighter than yesterday—still gentle, still soft, but with a steadiness that hadn't been there before.
She caught him staring again.
"Toshio-kun… why do you always look at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like I'm about to float away."
He looked down at his tea, cheeks warming slightly. "Maybe I'm just making sure you're real."
She stopped in her tracks for a moment, then her shoulders relaxed, and she gave a small, shy smile.
"I'm here," she said quietly. "I'll stay."
They ate breakfast together again—nothing complicated, nothing dramatic. Just quiet conversation, soft clinks of dishes, and a warmth that filled the room like sunlight.
At one point she paused, chopsticks hovering over her rice as she watched him.
"Toshio-kun?"
"Yeah?"
"Today… I want to hold hands from the start. I think I'm ready."
He didn't answer right away. His chest ached, but in the warmest possible way.
"Okay," he murmured. "We'll take it slow."
She nodded, looking satisfied and nervous at the same time.
When they stepped outside, Airi's steps slowed. She looked down at her hands, inhaled deeply, and then reached out. Not boldly. Not confidently. But intentionally.
Her fingers brushed against Toshio's once.
Twice.
Then finally curled around his hand.
Her grip was light—like she was afraid of holding on too tightly—but she didn't let go.
The morning breeze carried the scent of sakura petals as students hurried past. Airi walked close to him, her shoulder brushing his arm every few steps. She didn't shake as much today. Her breaths, though trembly at first, gradually steadied.
People stared. Whispered.
She squeezed his hand tighter.
"Are you okay?" Toshio asked quietly.
"…Yes." She swallowed. "Because you're beside me."
He tightened his hold in return, silently promising that he wasn't going anywhere.
As they walked through the school gates, one of the girls in their class approached with cautious friendliness.
"Good morning, Airi-chan."
Airi stiffened for a moment.
Then answered softly, "Good morning."
Her voice didn't waver.
The girl smiled, then hurried off to join her friends.
Airi exhaled shakily. "I… did it."
"You did great," Toshio said.
She looked up at him with shy pride. "I want to do more. Little by little."
"You don't have to rush."
"I'm not rushing." She shook her head gently. "I'm choosing."
That simple word struck something deep in him.
Choosing.
Not surviving.
Not reacting.
Not hiding.
Choosing.
Her own pace, her own identity, her own steps.
Class passed in a surprisingly peaceful way. Airi actually laughed once at something in the textbook—quietly, almost involuntarily.
Toshio looked at her from the side.
She caught him.
"Don't stare," she whispered.
"You're smiling. It's rare."
She flushed. "I smile."
"Not like this."
She covered her mouth with one hand, turning away. "Stop saying weird things…"
But she kept smiling.
At lunch, she sat closer under the cherry tree than usual, knees touching his. She held her bento delicately, occasionally glancing at him for reassurance—not out of fear, but out of a soft habit forming naturally.
"Toshio," she murmured.
"Yeah?"
"The girl earlier… she called me Airi without looking confused."
"Because they're getting used to the new you."
"Am I… new?"
He shook his head.
"You're just finally being yourself."
She stared at him for a long moment. "If I had stayed Mina forever… you would've still helped me. But… would you still have loved me?"
"I didn't fall in love with Mina."
Her lips parted slightly.
"I loved the girl who hid behind Mina," he continued. "I loved you long before you knew it."
Airi swallowed hard, voice smaller than a whisper. "You feel so… constant."
"Is that a good thing?"
"It's terrifying," she answered honestly. "But I want it. I want… you."
The words trembled, but they didn't break.
Toshio didn't respond with a kiss or dramatic gesture. He simply placed his hand over hers again, letting his warmth speak for him.
And Airi leaned her head lightly on his shoulder—not fully, not confidently, but gently.
Testing.
Learning.
Becoming brave.
On the walk home, Airi didn't let go of his hand once. Even when other students passed, even when bicycles rushed by, even when neighbors greeted them. Her grip tightened and loosened depending on her nerves, but she kept holding on.
About halfway, she whispered, "Toshio-kun… do you think it's okay for me to want simple things now? Like… peaceful days? Normal moments?"
"You deserve all of those."
"What if I lose myself again?"
"Then I'll find you again."
She stopped walking altogether.
"Toshio…"
"Yes?"
"You can't say things like that." Her voice trembled.
"Why not?"
"Because I'll believe them completely."
"Good."
Her breath caught.
He didn't tease further. He just squeezed her hand and kept walking, guiding her gently.
That evening, as they cooked dinner together again, Airi seemed more relaxed. She chopped vegetables with slightly steadier hands, humming softly. At one point she leaned too close, and her hair brushed his shoulder. She froze immediately, as if she had touched something forbidden.
"Sorry," she whispered.
"There's nothing to be sorry about."
"You don't get uncomfortable?"
"Not with you."
She bit her lip lightly. "Then… maybe I'll try being a little closer."
She didn't move away.
Toshio didn't either.
A quiet, domestic warmth spread through the kitchen, making it feel like they had lived together like this for years.
After dinner, Airi dried the dishes while Toshio washed them. Their shoulders brushed occasionally. Each time, she stiffened a little less.
Finally, when they finished, she stood lingering by the doorway to her room. Her fingers played with the edge of her sleeve.
"Toshio-kun…"
He turned. "Yeah?"
"Tonight… can you stay a little longer than yesterday?"
"How long?"
She hesitated.
"…Until I'm fully asleep. I won't ask again. Just… today."
"I'll stay," he said.
Her eyes softened, filled with a quiet relief that she didn't know how to express in words.
"Toshio," she whispered.
"What is it?"
She stepped forward slightly, close enough that he could feel her breath on his chest. She didn't hug him this time. She didn't touch him at all. She just looked up at him with trembling eyes.
"I'll get better. At being me. At loving. At speaking. But for now… please stay with me while I learn."
His heart tightened.
"I will," he said quietly. "I'll stay as long as you want me."
She closed her eyes.
"Good," she breathed. "Because I don't want to lose this. I don't want to lose you."
"You won't."
For the first time, Airi didn't whisper goodnight with fear or uncertainty.
She whispered it with trust.
And hope.
"Goodnight, Toshio."
"Goodnight, Airi."
The door closed gently.
And just like that, the distance between them wasn't a wound anymore.
It was a path they were walking together—slowly, softly, but unshakably.