Haruto grew up in Mizushima without ever feeling completely bound to the island.It was beautiful, that he had always known. The sea surrounding everything, the constant wind, the sound of waves crashing against the rocks. Even so, from an early age, he felt that it was not enough. Not because it was bad, but because it seemed too small for everything he wanted to know. While many accepted that they would live there forever, Haruto looked toward the horizon and imagined what the world beyond the water might be like.
The goddess existed.The tradition existed.
But to someone so young, all of that felt too distant to occupy his thoughts.
It was during adolescence that he met Ayame.
They came from different communities on the island and began meeting without planning to. At first, quick conversations. Then, longer walks. Sometimes after classes, sometimes in the late afternoon, when the wind grew stronger and the sun began to sink.
Ayame was not quiet for lack of opinions. She simply observed more than she spoke. She had a calm but steady way about her, like someone who knew where she was, even without knowing exactly where she was going. When she spoke, she chose her words carefully. Haruto liked that. He talked a lot. Ayame listened. And it worked.
They began to seek each other out more often.
They walked around the island without a set destination, sat near the sea, shared small stories, quiet laughter, and silences that did not bother them. There was no rush. There were no clear expectations. Only the feeling that being together made the days lighter.
Little by little, the inevitable happened.
Haruto and Ayame fell in love.
They began dating without needing to announce it. A gesture here, a hand holding another, the naturalness of choosing to stay close. They walked hand in hand across the island, helped each other with daily tasks, shared simple meals. There were no exaggerated promises, but there was presence.
They were together.
For a while, Mizushima seemed sufficient.
They talked about the future, but in different ways. Haruto spoke with enthusiasm about seeing other places, other cities, other people. Ayame listened attentively, but rarely placed herself within those plans.
— Have you ever thought about leaving here? — he asked once, as they watched the sea.
Ayame thought before answering.
— I have — she said. — But I don't feel the desire.
— I feel like if I stay, I'll end up losing myself.
She did not disagree.But she did not agree either.
They were different in that.And, at that moment, it still did not seem like a problem.
One afternoon, while walking through an older part of the island, they passed near a small altar dedicated to Arahime. It was not the main temple, just one of many altars scattered across Mizushima. Simple, made of light stone, with fresh flowers left there by someone.
Haruto passed by without much notice.
Ayame stopped.
She stood before the altar for a few seconds, in silence. The wind blew stronger at that moment, lifting leaves from the ground. Ayame brought a hand to her arm, as if she had felt cold.
— Are you okay? — Haruto asked.
She nodded, but her expression was different.
— I felt a chill — she said. — It was strange… like something passed through me.
Haruto looked around. There was no one there.
— It must be the wind.
Ayame did not respond right away. She continued looking at the altar for a few more moments. It did not seem like fear. Nor fascination. It was something difficult to explain, as if she had felt something important without understanding why.
After that, they continued walking.
The subject did not return.But something had changed.
In the days that followed, Haruto noticed small differences in Ayame. She began asking more questions about the island. About old stories. About people who had served the temple. She did not ask out of idle curiosity, but with real attention, like someone beginning to hear something that had always been there.
She was still the same Ayame.Just more attentive.
Haruto, on the other hand, felt the opposite.
The more he thought about the island, the more he wanted to leave. He felt no anger toward Mizushima. No contempt for the traditions. He simply felt that he needed to see the world before deciding where he belonged.
Time passed.
They stayed together, but the subject of the future began to surface more often. Not in arguments, but in pauses. In short answers. In silences longer than before.
Then the exchange opportunity appeared.
Two years in Tokyo. Study, a new routine, another life. It was not a short trip. It was enough time to change someone.
When Haruto told her, Ayame was not surprised.
She listened in silence, as if she already knew.
— I think I should go — he said. — Not to run away… but to understand who I am.
Ayame took a deep breath.
— I know — she replied. — I always knew you would want this.
They talked for many nights.
They spoke about what they felt, about the fear of losing each other, about what might happen afterward. Little by little, the conversations began to feel empty. Not because feeling was lacking, but because clear answers no longer existed.
Until they reached the point neither of them wanted, but both understood.
They decided to end it.
Not because of a lack of love.But because one path demanded leaving, and the other demanded staying.
— I want you to go — Ayame said, her voice firm despite the sadness. — I want you to see the world you always dreamed of. I want you to discover what you truly want.
Haruto fell silent.
— And if… when I come back… — he began.
Ayame smiled sadly.
— If, when you come back, it still makes sense… we'll see. There's no need to promise anything now.
They decided to keep in touch. Letters. Messages. Knowing about each other from a distance. Without demands. Without expectations.
The farewell was long.
There was no exaggerated drama, but there was weight. A lingering embrace. A final look that said more than any words.
In the first months, messages came frequently.
Haruto spoke of the city, the fast pace, the tall buildings, the hurried people. Ayame spoke of the island, the wind, the small changes that only those who stay can notice.
With time, the messages began to fade.
Not because of a fight.Not because of resentment.But because life began to follow other rhythms.
Until silence arrived.
When the two years passed and Haruto returned to Mizushima, he was already someone else. The island seemed the same, but he was not. Ayame was still there, following a path he no longer understood.
What they had did not turn into pain.It became the past.
At that time, Haruto still believed that life worked in simple ways. That some people walk together for a while, then follow different directions.
He did not know — and had no way of knowing — that while he was leaving, something had already begun to move silently in Mizushima.
Fate did not warn.It did not shout.It did not demand.
It simply passed.Leaving small marks…that would only make sense much later.