The message on my screen was like a splash of ice water.
Unknown: This is Sora Minami. Stay away from Sina.
Two simple sentences. No punctuation. Just cold, hard intent. It wasn't a request. It was an order. And it was a warning.
My thumbs hovered over the keyboard. My first instinct was defensive. I didn't do anything. My second was angry. Who are you to tell me what to do?
But my third, and final, instinct was a wave of cold, hard dread. Sora knew. She must have known for me to be on her radar this quickly. Sina must have told her something the moment she got home. The "static" must have been too loud to ignore.
A follow-up text came through before I could reply.
Sora: Park by the river. The one with the bridge. Ten minutes.
She wasn't giving me a choice. She was summoning me. The location wasn't a coincidence, either. It was our spot, Sina's and mine. The place where I'd stood just last night, watching her bus drive away. Sora choosing it was a power move, a clear signal that she knew more than I thought.
My heart was a frantic, trapped bird in my chest. For seventy-nine days, I had operated in a bubble. My only obstacle was Sina's condition. I had never considered the active, intelligent, and fiercely protective force that was Sora Minami. I had been a fool.
I shoved my phone in my pocket and walked. My legs felt like lead. Each step toward the park was a step towards a reckoning I knew I deserved.
She was already there, standing near the bench where Sina and I had written in her notebook just yesterday. She had her arms crossed, her posture radiating an intimidating, unwavering stillness. The setting sun cast long shadows, making her sharp features seem even more severe.
She watched me approach, her dark eyes tracking my every move, assessing me. There was no warmth, no curiosity. Just judgment.
I stopped a few feet away from her. The awkward silence stretched, thick with accusation.
"How did you get my number?" I asked, just to say something.
"I have my ways," she said, her voice as crisp and cold as her message. "Zeke Tanaka is a very loud talker when he thinks no one is listening. You should probably choose a more discreet accomplice."
My stomach dropped. She'd been investigating us.
"Look," I started, "whatever Sina told you—"
"She told me," Sora interrupted, her voice dangerously calm, "that she met a boy today. A boy who somehow knew about a song she's never heard. A boy who made her feel like she was going crazy. A boy who caused the worst case of 'static' she's had in months. She was crying when she got home, Kelin Ishida."
The last four words hit me like a punch to the gut. She was crying.
All my cleverness, my grand romantic gestures, my desperate hope from this afternoon... all it had led to was her tears. The guilt was a physical thing, a heavy weight pressing on my lungs.
"I didn't mean to," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "I would never, ever want to hurt her."
"And yet, you did," Sora shot back, taking a step closer. The protector. The guardian at the gate. "I don't know what your game is. I don't know if you're some cruel manipulator who gets his kicks from messing with a girl with a disability, or if you're just a clueless idiot who stumbled into something you don't understand."
Her eyes bore into me, trying to dissect me, to categorize me. "But frankly, I don't care which one it is. The result is the same. You're a threat to her stability."
"I'm not," I insisted, a spark of defiance flaring through the guilt. "You don't understand. I... I care about her."
Sora let out a short, bitter laugh that wasn't a laugh at all. "You 'care' about her? You met her this morning. You don't even know her."
The irony was so thick I could have choked on it. I know everything, my mind screamed. I know she hates green peppers. I know she taps her fingers when she's thinking. I know her favorite author and the exact pitch of her laugh when something is genuinely, surprisingly funny. I know her better than anyone.
But I couldn't say any of that. It would only make me sound more insane, more dangerous.
"You're right," I said, the admission tasting like ash in my mouth. It was the only play I had. Submission. Retreat. "It was stupid. I crossed a line. I'm sorry."
My apology seemed to take some of the wind out of her sails. She studied me, her sharp gaze searching for any sign of deception.
"This isn't a game to me," she said, her voice losing its edge, replaced by a deep, weary sadness. "Do you have any idea what her life is like? Every morning is a nightmare. She wakes up in a room she doesn't recognize, next to a person she thinks is a stranger. She has to read a letter from herself just to remember her own name, her own tragedy. My job—my only job—is to make that process as painless as possible. To create a safe, predictable, calm environment for her."
She looked away, towards the setting sun. "You are not calm. You are a disruption. You are a variable that creates pain."
She turned back to me, her eyes pleading now. "Please. If you actually care about her, even a little bit, leave her alone. Let her have her peace. By tomorrow morning, she won't remember you anyway. You can just... walk away. It won't hurt her. But if you're there again, pushing, confusing her... you will break her."
And there it was. The out. The kill switch.
Sora was offering me the simple, logical, and most compassionate solution. Disappear. Become a one-day ghost like I was always supposed to be. Let the reset do its work. By morning, Sina wouldn't feel the confusion or the fear. She would be a blank slate. Any pain I had caused would be erased.
It was the right thing to do. The kind thing to do.
But the memory of that flicker, of her hearing that phantom melody, was a hook in my soul. It was a terrifying, beautiful promise of something more.
Walking away felt like giving up on a miracle. Staying felt like an act of profound selfishness.
Sora saw the conflict on my face. Her expression hardened again.
"Tomorrow morning," she said, her voice leaving no room for argument, "you will walk on the other side of the courtyard. You will not talk to her. You will not even look at her. You will be a stranger. Are we clear?"
I looked at the guardian in front of me, the girl who loved Sina enough to be cruel for her.
And in that moment, I hated her for being right.
"...Clear," I finally forced out, the single word feeling like a betrayal of everything.