Airi's room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of her bedside lamp. Shadows danced gently across the walls, but for the first time in a long time, they didn't frighten her. They simply existed—quiet, harmless, ordinary.
Toshio sat on the floor beside her bed, just like the night before. Except this time, everything felt different.
Airi wasn't holding his sleeve in a desperate grip.
She wasn't trembling.
She wasn't scared of the dark… or of herself.
Instead, she lay on her side, facing him, her expression soft in the warm light.
"Toshio-kun," she whispered, barely above a breath.
"Hmm?"
"I've realized something."
"What is it?"
She hesitated, fingers lightly brushing the edge of her blanket. Then she lifted her eyes to his, and in them—there was no fear. Only quiet honesty.
"When Mina was still here… I felt like I was living in a borrowed body. Like everything I did was just… reacting. Surviving. But now…" She reached out, fingertips grazing his wrist. "Now, when I look at you… I feel like I'm choosing."
A small warmth spread through Toshio's chest. "I'm glad you feel that way."
"But it's terrifying," she admitted with a whispery laugh. "Because choosing means I can lose something. And I don't want to lose this." Her voice softened. "…I don't want to lose you."
"You won't," he said, just as quietly.
She studied his face for a moment—his calm eyes, the gentle firmness in his voice, the way he never rushed her.
Slowly, Airi's hand slid from her blanket to rest beside his on the bed. Their fingers didn't touch yet, but the space between them was warm with intention.
"Will you stay until I fall asleep?" she asked.
"I'll stay."
She exhaled, relieved. "Good… because I want to fall asleep knowing you're here. I like the feeling."
Toshio's lips curved faintly. "Then sleep."
Airi closed her eyes, her breathing evening out as she settled into her pillow. But after a few seconds, her eyes fluttered open again.
"Toshio?"
"Yes?"
Her voice turned small—soft, almost embarrassed.
"Can I… hold your hand? Just until I sleep?"
He nodded. "Of course."
She reached out slowly, delicately, as if her hand might burn if she moved too quickly. Her fingers brushed his, then curled around them. Her grip wasn't weak, wasn't trembling—it was steady.
Warm.
Certain.
"Your hands are warm…" she murmured, half-asleep already.
"So are yours."
She smiled faintly at that—barely visible, but real. A quiet, peaceful smile that reached her eyes even as they closed.
For a long moment, Toshio watched her sleep—her breathing gentle, her expression unburdened. Not haunted. Not running. Just Airi, finally resting in her own skin.
She didn't let go of his hand.
Even when she drifted fully into sleep.
Even when Toshio's back leaned against the wall and his own eyes grew heavy.
Even when the house fell entirely silent.
She held on.
Not out of fear.
But out of a newfound warmth she finally allowed herself to keep.
A quiet knock on the door woke Toshio hours later. He blinked, disoriented for a moment—until he felt the soft pressure on his hand.
Airi was still holding it.
Still sleeping.
Still peaceful.
He turned as the knocking came again. A voice called from the hallway.
"Toshio? Breakfast."
It was his mother.
He whispered back, "I'll be there in a minute."
Airi stirred at the sound, eyelids fluttering open. Her gaze met his, hazy and slow from sleep.
"…You didn't leave," she murmured, as if confirming something precious.
"You told me to stay."
She squeezed his hand gently before realizing she was still holding it and jolting slightly. "S-sorry! I didn't mean—"
"You don't have to apologize."
She blinked, then slowly relaxed again, her cheeks warming. "…Then it's okay if I don't let go immediately?"
"It's okay."
She held on for a moment longer—just long enough to steady herself. Then she finally released his hand and sat up.
"Toshio-kun?" she whispered.
"Yes?"
"Would you… walk with me this morning too?"
He smiled. "Always."
That morning, when they stepped outside, Airi didn't wait for him to offer his hand.
She reached out first.
Her grip was steady.
Her steps were confident.
And her smile—small, shy, but certain—was the brightest it had been since the day she first returned as Airi.
"Toshio…" she said softly.
"Yes?"
"I think… I'm ready for whatever comes next."
He squeezed her hand.
"So am I."
And together, they walked forward—toward the final chapters of their story, toward the ending they had both earned.
Not with fear.
Not with hesitation.
But with the quiet courage of two hearts finally learning to beat in the same rhythm.