Morning breaks without colour.
Only the wind moves, slow, deliberate, like it's waiting for someone to speak first.
Ren walks the cliff road alone.
Every step feels rehearsed, as if the ground itself remembers his weight.
The cassette, the pendant, the sketchbook, they're all in his backpack.
He's not here to mourn anymore.
He's here to answer.
---
Halfway up, Aika joins him.
No words.
Just quiet breathing, their footsteps syncing in rhythm.
When they reach the fence, she sets her sketchbook on the ground and opens it to the final blank page.
> "I've been saving this one," she says.
"For what?"
"For when you finally looked at the sea without hating it."
Ren exhales. "Guess today's the day."
---
The air turns sharp, salt biting his throat.
He kneels, pulls the pendant from his pocket, and holds it up to the light.
> "Kai," he says, voice steady, "I remembered. Every stupid fight, every promise. I should've jumped after you."
The wind answers with a hard gust, no comfort, just truth.
He nods. "Yeah, I know. You'd tell me to stop apologizing."
Aika crouches beside him, fingers brushing the sketchbook's corner.
> "Ren… you need to know something about me."
He looks at her, already sensing it.
> "The dreams, the drawings, they weren't just echoes. Airi's soul didn't disappear completely. Part of her came back with me. My mother was pregnant the summer she died."
Ren's breath catches.
The puzzle clicks into place, why Aika's voice sometimes carried Airi's warmth, why her eyes looked like déjà vu.
> "So you..."
"I'm not her," Aika says quickly. "But she's the reason I dreamt of you. The reason I had to find you. Maybe souls leave breadcrumbs for the living."
---
The sky darkens; clouds gather over the horizon like an audience.
Aika tears a page from the sketchbook, hands him a pencil.
> "Draw it. The way it was. Before the sea took it."
Ren hesitates, then starts to move the pencil, three kids, the cliff, the endless sky.
Lines blur as his eyes sting, but he keeps going until the scene is whole again.
Aika smiles. "There. Now it exists somewhere besides memory."
Ren folds the drawing into a paper plane, deliberate, slow and whispers:
> "For all of us."
They release it together.
The plane catches the wind and lifts high, gliding out over the ocean.
It doesn't fall.
It keeps climbing until the horizon swallows it.
---
Ren closes his eyes.
He hears Airi's laugh, soft, fading, blending with the sound of waves.
Kai's voice follows, rough and teasing: "Took you long enough, little brother."
Then silence again, peaceful this time.
Aika touches his shoulder.
> "What now?"
"I live," he says simply. "For them. For me. For you."
She nods, eyes bright but calm.
> "Then maybe the wind won't have to forget your name anymore."
Ren smirks through the tears.
> "It never did. I was just too quiet to answer."
---
End of Chapter 6 – When the Wind Forgets My Name
End of Story.