The sun had barely risen over the sleepy mountain town of Yukinose when Aira Yukino opened her eyes with a start.
She sat upright in her futon, breath hitching, heart pounding as though she had just finished running. Morning light filtered softly through the paper shoji screens of her room, dappling the tatami floor with warm gold. Yet her skin was cold, her hands trembling.
"Ren..."
The name left her lips in a whisper, unbidden and unfamiliar, but it lingered in the air like the fading note of a lullaby.
She clutched her chest. Why did that name make her want to cry?
Aira lived in a town that still clung to time-worn traditions—where phone signals were weak, but the stars shone vividly every night. Yukinose was cradled in the mountains, its stone paths and wooden houses surrounded by dense forest and clear rivers. A place untouched by the frantic pace of the city.
She stood slowly and walked to the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her—long, dark hair falling past her shoulders, a pale face with sleepy eyes that still shimmered with unshed tears. She looked like herself. And yet... something was wrong.
Every morning for the past month, she had awakened with the same feeling. Like a thread was pulling her toward something—or someone—just beyond reach. She'd tried to shake it, to tell herself it was just stress, imagination, perhaps even a touch of romantic loneliness. But last night's dream had been different.
It wasn't just emotion. She had seen someone.
A boy with tousled black hair. Kind eyes. A city skyline behind him. He had said something to her.
"Don't forget me."
Aira touched her lips.
She dressed in her school uniform—navy skirt, white blouse, a red ribbon tied around the collar—and tiptoed downstairs. Her grandmother was already making breakfast.
"Morning, Aira," the old woman said, glancing over her shoulder from the stove. "You're up early today."
"Morning, Obaachan," Aira murmured, tying her hair into a ponytail. "Couldn't sleep."
Her grandmother gave her a knowing look. "Dreams again?"
Aira hesitated. "Yeah."
The woman hummed. "The stars were bright last night. Dreams travel farther when the sky is clear."
Aira blinked. "Is that a saying?"
The old woman smiled as she flipped an egg onto a plate. "Just something my grandmother used to say. Maybe it's true. Maybe it's just poetry."
Aira ate quickly and left early, deciding to take the longer route to school that wound along the forest path near the river. The air was crisp, the sound of birdsong mixing with the rustle of leaves. The peacefulness of Yukinose was something she'd always loved—but lately, it felt like a cage.
Her best friend, Haruka, met her near the school gates. "You look like you haven't slept in a week," she said, falling into step beside her.
"Thanks," Aira muttered.
Haruka smiled. "Still dreaming about Tokyo boys?"
Aira blushed. "I told you, I don't know if he's from Tokyo."
"But he's cute, right?"
Aira thought of his eyes, the way he'd looked at her like she was the most important thing in the world. "Yeah," she admitted softly.
Classes passed in a blur. During lunch, Aira found herself sketching again, her hand moving before she even had a plan. When she finished, she stared at the page.
It was him.
The boy from her dreams.
Haruka leaned over. "You drew him again?"
Aira nodded. "It's like... I can't help it. He's in my head all the time now."
"Have you tried writing about him?"
Aira tilted her head. "Writing?"
"Like in a diary. Maybe it'll help get it out of your system."
That night, Aira sat in her room with an empty notebook. She hesitated, then wrote:
> His name is Ren. I don't know how I know that. I just do. He lives in a city. I think it's Tokyo. Every time I see him, I feel like I'm missing something important.
She paused, staring at her own handwriting.
He told me not to forget him.
She stopped again. What was she even doing? None of this made sense.
Then, just for a moment, the scent of rain filled her room. A breeze fluttered through the open window, though there was no wind outside. The notebook's pages turned by themselves. Her heart pounded.
And across the city, across time, Ren opened his poetry book and found a folded slip of paper he hadn't placed there.
"Don't forget me."
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(To be continued...)