The path curves around the bend, lined with tall grasses swaying in the breeze. When I reach the cliff, the view steals my breath.
The ocean stretches out like a sheet of obsidian ink, moonlight painting silvery ribbons across its surface. The waves crash softly against the rocks below, each one sighing like the world's quiet exhale.
Just like I remember.
And then—I hear it.
A quiet melody.
Low, warm strings hum through the night. A rhythm so gentle it barely rises above the breeze. I freeze.
Someone is sitting near the edge.
A boy.
Loose, sun-kissed hair. A tank top. A surfboard propped up nearby. His fingers glide along the neck of an acoustic bass guitar, cradled like something precious.
He hasn't noticed me.
Or maybe he has—and just doesn't mind.
I take a step forward, heart in my throat, but the gravel crunches beneath my foot.
The boy pauses. Turns.
And smiles.
"Well, look who's back."
I blink.
Do I know him?
He raises an eyebrow, like he's waiting for me to react.
But I brush past him, pretending to admire the ocean.
He laughs softly behind me—not mocking, more like… amused.
"Guess it has been a while, Ayu-chan."
That name.
Only two people have ever called me that.
Grandma…
And—
Suddenly, it hits me.
A memory.
A balloon, bright red, slipping from my tiny hands. Floating up, up, up into the endless Okinawa sky.
A boy next to me, laughing as he watches it drift away.
"Oops!" he'd said, with the most infuriating grin.
I'd cried. He'd tried to give me his.
But I'd pushed him, furious.
"Kaito…?" I whisper, more to myself than to him.
He sets his guitar down and leans back on his hands, gazing up at the sky.
"You finally remembered," he says. "Took you long enough."
My breath catches.
He's taller now, leaner. His face glows softly in the moonlight. But the playful gleam in his eyes—it's exactly the same.
"I didn't recognize you," I murmur.
He shrugs. "Of course you wouldn't. It's been ten years. What brings you back here?"
I keep staring at him, too shocked to answer.
Kaito Hideaki. My childhood friend before I left for Tokyo. The most annoying, smug human boy I've ever met. An absolute idiot—always teasing me, always turning everything into a competition.
A gentle idiot, though… when he wanted to be.
How did I forget him?
He chuckles again, soft and almost nostalgic. "You haven't changed that much, Ayu-chan."
I sit down beside him, careful not to meet his gaze.
The silence stretches, filled only by the surf below and the quiet pull of strings as his fingers resume their rhythm.
Something about the melody wraps around my chest and loosens the tightness there.
I close my eyes.
The moonlight is warm. The guitar hums through my bones.
And before I know it…
My head leans against his shoulder.
My breathing slows.
And the tide carries me off to sleep.