Haya was still asleep when the dream found him again.
He stood on the same shore as before, the place that had refused to leave his thoughts even after waking. But now, the world was painted in silver and deep blue, shaped by a full moon that hung high and heavy in the sky. Its light spilled across the sea and the sand, turning the waves into slow-moving shards of glass. The air was cool, carrying the scent of salt and something faintly sweet, like a summer that refused to fade.
She was there.
The girl stood near the edge of the water, facing the vast ocean. She wore the same simple summer dress, light and pale, moving gently with the breeze. But her straw hat was gone. Her hair flowed freely now, long and dark, lifted softly by the wind as if it were part of the night itself.
Haya stood several steps behind her. At first, he couldn't move. His hands trembled, his fingers curling slowly into his palms. His heartbeat felt louder than the rhythmic pulse of the waves. Fear rose in his chest, sharp and sudden, urging him to turn away, to wake up, to escape.
But beneath the fear was a weight.
It was a heavy, unanswered feeling that had been pressing against his heart for longer than he could remember. The same feeling that followed him into the daylight. The same one that made his chest tighten when he thought of her. He had run from it before.
Not this time.
Haya took a small step forward. The sand shifted under his feet, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet of the dream. She didn't turn. He took another step, his throat dry, his courage fragile.
"Hey…" His voice was a mere tremor. "Who are you?"
The wind grew stronger, tugging at his shirt.
"What do you want from me?"
For a moment, nothing happened. Then her voice reached him, soft but clear, like it had always been waiting for him to ask.
「ひどいです....」
(Hidoi desu...)
"How cruel of you", she said,
「私のこと,覚えてないんだ....ずっと,ここで待っていたのに.」
(Watashi no koto, oboete nai n da... Zutto, koko de matte ita no ni.)
"to not remember me… even though I've been waiting here all this time."
Haya's breath caught. "I… I'm sorry. But who are you, really?"
The silence that followed was heavier than any sound.
「ひどい」
(Hidoi)
"Cruel"
she said again, with a note of profound sadness.
「ひどいですよ....あんなに,一緒に過ごしたのに.」
(Hidoi desu yo... Anna ni, issho ni sugoshita no ni.)
"How cruel... after everything we did together."
Slowly, she began to turn toward him. The wind rose suddenly, sweeping across the shore, and the waves grew louder. Above them, clouds slid across the moon, dimming its light as if the sky itself was hesitating.
Haya's heart pounded against his ribs. She faced him now, and his breath left him all at once.
Where her face should have been, there was only distortion. Like an old television screen with no signal, it flickered and shifted—a blur of light and shadow that refused to form a shape.
"W–What…?" he whispered.
Fear crawled through his veins, but he clenched his fists. For the first time, he raised his voice—not in anger, but in sheer desperation.
"I don't know who you are!" he shouted, his words breaking through the wind. "But I want to understand this! I want to know who you are, and what you are!"
The weight in his chest burned.
"I've been carrying this without knowing why! So please… tell me! Who are—"
He stopped. The static on her face began to change. Slowly, like fog lifting from a lake, her mouth and lips emerged beneath the distortion. The flickering faded, revealing a warm, gentle smile. It was a smile that didn't belong to fear. It was a smile that belonged to memory.
Haya froze. His heart softened even as confusion twisted inside him. Before he could speak, she tilted her head slightly.
「あぁ…もう,時間です.」
(Aa... Mou, jikan desu .)
"Oh," she said quietly. "It's already time."
"Time… for what?" , Haya could only stand in confusion .
She took a small step back, her form beginning to feel less solid, like a reflection disturbed by water.
「今度こそ...約束,守ってくださいね.」
(Kondo koso... yakusoku, mamotte kudasai ne.)
"I hope," she said softly, "you keep your promise this time."
"Wait! What promise? I don't even remember—"
Her figure blurred. The moon disappeared behind the clouds. And the sound of the sea collapsed into a deafening silence.
Haya woke with a sharp, ragged breath.
The world rushed back into him—the ceiling above, the faint outline of the window, the quiet hum of the early morning. His heart was racing, and his shirt was damp with sweat.
Outside, the sky was still dark, but a heavy deep blue began to loosen the grip of the night. It was that strange hour where time felt suspended. His chest rose and fell unevenly. That smile. That voice.
「今度こそ...約束,守ってくださいね.」
I hope you keep your promise this time.
He pressed a trembling hand to his forehead. He was warm. Too warm. A small movement beside him made him flinch.
"Haya?" Danish's voice was low and sleepy. "You good, bro?"
Haya turned his head slowly. In the dim light, he saw Danish sitting up, concern etched into his features. "You're sweating a lot. Bad dream?"
"Yeah… I think so."
Zul stirred on the other side of the room, turning in his sleep but not quite waking.
"What time is it?" Haya asked, his voice hoarse.
Danish squinted at his phone. "Six in the morning. Still early."
Haya stared toward the window. "It's still dark."
"Yeah. Sun's not up yet."
Silence returned, thick with what Haya hadn't said. Danish studied him. "You looked scared."
"I was… confused," Haya admitted.
"That's worse than scared sometimes." Danish tried to lighten the mood. "Come on. We said we'd jog. If we sleep more, Ammar will drag us out anyway."
Haya nodded slowly, his body feeling as if the dream had added actual physical weight to his bones. As he stood, the room felt colder. In the bathroom, cold water splashed against his face, and he looked at his reflection. His eyes were tired, but beneath the exhaustion was a small, flickering flame of determination.
He dried his face and stepped back into the room. Zul was now awake, stretching lazily. "Morning already?" he groaned.
"Unfortunately," Danish replied.
They prepared quietly—shoes, jackets, water. When Haya slipped on his sneakers, his chest tightened again. He didn't know what the promise was, but he knew it wasn't light. And it wasn't going away.
The house was still quiet when they finished. They stood together for a short prayer, their voices low and calm, grounding themselves before stepping out. Just as they were about to head down, a strange, hollow sound echoed through the hallway.
Grrrrrrr.
They all froze. Zul blinked. "…That wasn't me."
Another rumble followed, louder this time.
"…Okay, that was me." Zul laughed awkwardly, rubbing his stomach. "I'm hungry. Jogging on an empty stomach is inhumane."
Danish crossed his arms. "We're supposed to jog, not eat."
Haya sighed, the ghost of a smile appearing. "I think there's bread in the cabinet."
While Zul and Danish settled at the kitchen table, tearing into the loaf, Haya prepared a warm chocolate drink. The clinking of his spoon was the only sound until Ammar appeared in the doorway. He had been waiting outside and looked thoroughly annoyed.
"Oi. I've been waiting, and you guys are in here having a picnic?"
Haya and Danish pointed instantly. "It was Zul."
Zul nearly choked. "Heeeeh? Betrayal! Pure betrayal!"
Ammar let out a long sigh. "Alright, hurry up. Let's go."
A few moments later, they stepped outside. The air was freezing, cutting through their thin jackets. They began to jog in a loose formation: Haya on the far left, Zul beside him, Ammar in the middle, and Danish on the right. Their footsteps hit the pavement in an uneven rhythm.
The rhythm of their footsteps provided a steady beat to the conversation. Ammar set the pace in the center, his breathing controlled despite the humidity.
"You guys don't realize how quiet this air is," Ammar said, wiping sweat from his brow. "In the city, every day feels like a sprint you didn't sign up for. Classes, endless assignments, people everywhere... it's like living inside a beehive."
Danish gave a supportive nod, his stride heavy but firm. "I get the tired part. I've been out in the paddy fields with my father since the break started. My back aches every night, but honestly? Looking at the rows we've cleared... it feels like I've actually done something with my hands. It's a good kind of exhausted."
Zul let out a sharp laugh, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "And here I am, the village's official sloth. My 'meaningful work' involves back-to-back movies and grinding for the regional tournament. Hey, someone has to keep the gaming chair warm while you guys are building the nation."
Ammar smirked, glancing to his left. "And what about the quietest member of the squad? You're breathing like you're not even trying, Haya."
Haya didn't look over. His eyes were fixed on the asphalt, but his mind was miles away, standing on a silver shore listening to waves that didn't exist in this valley. "I'm just keeping pace," he said softly. "Just... following the road."
They ran until the road opened near the paddy fields, the darkness broken by faint reflections on the water.
They reached a junction where three ways met.
"Which way?" Zul asked, hands on his hips.
Haya looked at the road leading toward the sea village. "Let's go there."
"The sea village?" Danish asked. "Why?"
Haya hesitated. "I don't know. Just… to see around."
Ammar studied him for a second, then nodded. "Alright. Let's move."
The sea village was already breathing. The sky was a pale grey, the sun a hidden presence behind the horizon. As they entered through the tall pillars of the gate, Haya slowed his pace. The Chinese characters above them were sharp and elegant.
Sea Village.
"Looks cooler in the dark," Zul muttered. "Like a secret place."
The streets were narrow, lined with wooden houses and sturdy brick buildings. Fishing nets hung like cobwebs along fences, and plastic crates were stacked neatly by doorways. The air was thick with the scent of fresh fish, salt, and wet wood.
People moved with purpose—men carrying heavy boxes of ice, women calling out greetings. It was a world of adults who had learned to wake before the light.
"I worked here during semester breaks," Ammar said, smiling at the memories. "Bet my old boss wouldn't recognize me."
Haya stayed quiet, his eyes scanning the faces in the crowd. He was looking for something—or someone—without knowing why.
"There's somewhere I want to go," Haya said suddenly.
They followed him without question through the thinning crowd until they reached a narrow wooden path, like a bridge over the seawater. The boards creaked under their weight. They reached an open dock, quiet and secluded.
They sat at the edge, legs hanging over the dark water.
"What are we doing here?" Zul asked.
"Just wait," Haya replied.
The world slowly shifted. Deep blue turned to soft purple, then to a shimmering, pale gold. As the sun touched the horizon, a dragon statue coiled nearby seemed to glow, and the roof of a distant temple caught the light.
"It's… beautiful," Danish whispered.
"You picked a good place, Haya," Ammar added.
Haya didn't reply immediately. "Yes," he said softly. "It is."
The weight in his chest felt lighter—not gone, but easier to carry in the presence of his friends. They talked for a while about growing up and how the world felt like a blank page.
Eventually, they wandered back into the village to a small kopitiam. Over hot tea, coffee, and nasi lemak, the steam rising into the morning air, Ammar leaned back.
"So… how's your life been, Haya? Really?"
Haya paused, thinking of his bonsai, the quiet house, and the blurred face of the girl who demanded a promise.
"It's… normal," he said. "Nothing special."
"Just that?" Ammar asked gently.
Haya nodded. "Yeah. Nothing else."
Ammar watched him, but he didn't push. He knew that sometimes, silence was the only way to hold a heavy heart together. Outside, the village hummed with life, and inside Haya, the weight remained—waiting for the moment the promise would finally be remembered.