The moon hung low over the quiet street, its pale light spilling across rooftops and trembling leaves. Toshio stood outside Airi's door just as he had promised, listening to the soft rustle of her moving around her room. The hallway was dim, warm, familiar—almost too familiar for his heart to stay calm.
He had stayed with her until she slept last night.
He hadn't meant to fall asleep beside her, but at some point her breathing evened out, her fingers lightly gripping his sleeve… and he must've drifted off while sitting upright. When he woke, she was still holding onto him with that same fragile insistence—as if she believed he would vanish if she let go.
But today felt different.
Lighter.
More certain.
More hers.
A gentle click sounded, and Airi stepped out of her room. She had brushed her hair neatly, her ribbon tied perfectly. The only thing imperfect was the faint redness at the corner of her eyes—evidence she had cried a little before calling him last night.
But they were not Mina's tears of fear.
These were Airi's tears of wanting.
"Toshio-kun…" she whispered, her voice soft but steady.
"You waited," he said.
"You stayed," she corrected.
Her fingers touched her own sleeve as if testing something invisible. Then, with a bravery that made his chest tighten, she stepped closer. Close enough that the faint scent of her jasmine shampoo drifted between them.
"Are we… walking together again today?" she asked.
"You don't have to ask," Toshio replied gently. "I'll be beside you every day."
Her lashes fluttered at the softness in his tone. "Then… can we hold hands again?"
"Only if you want to."
"I do," she murmured. "I want to start the day with you."
She took his hand first this time.
Not hesitantly.
Not fearfully.
But with quiet certainty.
Their fingers intertwined more firmly than yesterday. She didn't flinch at the touch. She didn't look away in embarrassment. She simply held on, her warmth curling into his like it belonged there.
As they walked toward school, the morning breeze carried the scent of distant sakura trees. Students biked past, chattering loudly. Cars honked. The world bustled.
But Airi stayed close.
Her steps matched his. Her grip never loosened. When someone stared too long, she pressed slightly closer, her shoulder brushing his arm, but she didn't shrink away.
"Toshio?" she said as they crossed the street.
"Yes?"
"Is it strange that… I feel safer holding your hand than when I'm just by myself?"
"No," he answered. "It means you're healing."
"And you don't mind?"
"Not at all."
She looked away, cheeks warming faintly. "I told myself I wasn't going to rely on anyone anymore. But I think… it's okay to rely on you."
"It is," he said. "Because you're not relying to survive anymore. You're relying because you care."
A small breath escaped her—half laugh, half sigh. "You always say things that make my heart feel weird."
"Weird is good?"
"Weird is…" She glanced up at him shyly. "Warm."
He had no response to that—not one that wouldn't send her fleeing behind her door again—so he simply squeezed her hand.
They walked through the school gates and whispered greetings followed them. Some students smiled. Others whispered behind their palms. But none dared approach too closely—partly because of Toshio's quiet presence and partly because Airi carried herself with a newfound steadiness.
In class, she sat beside him as always. But unlike the days before, she didn't sit stiffly. She didn't grip her pencil like a shield or hide behind her bangs.
Instead, she shifted her chair just a little closer.
Close enough that their sleeves brushed.
Close enough that she could lean slightly without thinking about it.
Halfway through a lecture, she tapped her notebook lightly.
Toshio looked down.
She had written a single line in small, neat handwriting:
Can we eat lunch together outside today? Under the tree again?
He nodded.
She smiled.
It was small, shy, but undeniably real.
At lunch, they returned to the cherry tree. The petals rustled gently above them. The sunlight filtered through in soft patches, making Airi's hair glow faintly.
"You look lighter today," Toshio said.
"I feel lighter," she admitted. "Because today… I didn't feel like a ghost."
"You're not."
"I know," she whispered. "Not anymore."
She hesitated, then added, "Toshio… I've been afraid for so long. Afraid of remembering, afraid of forgetting, afraid of choosing wrong. But today, when I woke up… the first thing I thought was that I wanted to see you."
He froze.
Not dramatically.
Just completely.
"And when I opened my door," she continued, "you were there. Like you always are." She looked at him with a softness that almost hurt. "Do you know how comforting that is?"
"I'm glad I can be that for you."
"But it scares me too," she admitted. "Because the more I get used to this… the more I don't want to lose it."
"You won't."
She swallowed. "Promise?"
"I don't make promises I can't keep."
Airi's breath trembled in the warm afternoon air.
"Toshio-kun… I think I'm falling for you in a way that doesn't hurt anymore."
He stared at her.
Not in disbelief.
But in quiet awe.
"And I don't know what to do with these feelings yet," she whispered. "I want to learn them slowly. With you. If you'll let me."
"There's nothing I want more."
Her cheeks reddened deeply, and she hid her face behind her hands for a moment. "You're saying too many sweet things lately…"
"You started it."
"I did not!"
"You did," he said calmly.
She peeked through her fingers with an embarrassed glare that looked more adorable than threatening.
"Toshio-kun…"
"Hmm?"
"Will you walk me home again today?"
"Always."
Her hands lowered.
And she smiled again.
A full, gentle, beautifully real smile.
That evening, after dinner and quiet conversation, Airi lingered at her doorway again. But today, she didn't look nervous. Today, she wasn't struggling against ghosts.
Today, she was choosing.
"Toshio-kun…" she whispered softly.
"Yes?"
"Stay with me again tonight. Not because I'm scared." She paused, eyes searching his. "But because… I like it. I like sleeping knowing you're near."
He breathed in slowly. "I'll stay."
Her eyes warmed.
"Good," she murmured. "Then… let's keep walking forward together. Until the end."
Her small hand found his again.
And in that moment, as her door closed behind them, it felt unmistakably clear:
She wasn't learning to be brave anymore.
She was brave.
And Toshio was the warmth she chose to keep.