Airi gazed out the café window, the morning light brushing softly against her hair.
"I remember when I was little… around five or six," she said quietly.
"Back then, I used to play in the backyard a lot. I liked watching the trees, and sometimes I'd sit near a small river close to the house. It felt peaceful… even though the current was strong enough to scare me a little."
Arou listened intently, his eyes fixed on hers.
"So that's one of your earliest memories?"
Airi nodded.
"Yeah. But not just that… I also remember my first lesson with a sword. My father taught me how to hold a wooden sword properly, how to balance my body, and how important focus is. I can still feel the weight of it in my hands."
Arou nodded slowly, his gaze lowering slightly.
"So your current skill… it all traces back to your childhood."
Airi gave a faint smile.
"You could say that. Everything I learned back then… it guided me to where I am now. Even though I never faced real danger at the time, those small lessons prepared me for what's real today."
Arou leaned forward slightly.
"I want to know more. Another moment that shaped you… what stands out the most?"
Airi closed her eyes for a moment, searching her memory.
"…I remember the first time I fell into that small river. I panicked. But someone saved me. I don't remember who… but that fear stayed with me. It taught me that life is fragile… but also that there are people you can trust."
Arou inhaled softly.
"That person… could it be one of the names I mentioned earlier? Or… not?"
Airi opened her eyes and looked at him gently.
"No. I don't know who it was. But I think that moment is one of the fragments that made me more careful… and also helped me value the people around me."
Arou studied her expression, slowly understanding.
"So this… is truly your own memory. Not something left behind by someone else."
Airi smiled faintly.
"Yeah. I want you to know that. The rest… we'll let it come naturally, if it needs to."
They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the calm atmosphere of the café.
Outside, people passed by.
But at their table, time felt as if it had paused.
Arou realized something—Airi's childhood memories might be small, but each fragment shaped who she is now: strong, cautious, and driven by a quiet desire to protect.
And he knew… understanding these small fragments was the first step to understanding Airi as a whole—and perhaps the strange memories lingering in his mind.
---
After a moment of silence, Arou looked at her again.
"You've told me about your first sword lesson and your childhood… but I'm curious. Your friends back then—did they train with you too?"
Airi took a slow sip of her taro latte, her gaze drifting outside.
"Hmm… some of them were around, but not many actually trained with swords. I mostly practiced on my own. I think that's what made me used to focusing—and being independent—from a young age."
Arou leaned forward slightly.
"So you trained alone… but there were people supporting you from afar?"
Airi nodded.
"Yeah. A few people kept an eye on me, gave advice, or were just there to play. Not many, but enough to make me feel like I wasn't alone."
Arou smiled faintly.
"And now? The friends you have now… are they still like that? Supporting you? Or more like companions walking the same path?"
Airi looked at him, her expression turning more serious.
"They're more like companions. We share the same goal, but we take different paths to reach it. Sometimes we joke around, sometimes we're serious. But I always feel like they're there for me… even when it's not obvious."
Arou exhaled slowly, taking it all in.
"What about your first real sword? Not a wooden one. Was that moment important?"
Airi nodded, her eyes distant for a moment.
"Very important. I remember how heavy it felt… but also exciting. Every swing taught me about balance and precision. It wasn't just about strength—it was about control. That's when I started to understand… a sword isn't just a tool. It's an extension of yourself."
Arou glanced at the weapons they carried, recalling their battle with Zata.
"So everything you learned… it helps you face what's happening now. Maybe that's what makes you different."
Airi smiled faintly, though a quiet seriousness remained.
"Yeah. Those small experiences shaped who I am. And even when others aren't always there, I learned to trust myself. That's what matters."
---
After a brief pause, Arou spoke again.
"Oh right… do you know Lumina from the hill?"
Airi smiled faintly, recalling.
"Yeah, I remember. She fell off her bike at the park. I was the one who helped her."
Arou looked intrigued.
"She fell? What happened after that?"
Airi lowered her gaze slightly, smiling softly.
"We introduced ourselves there. After I helped her up, we talked a bit, laughed a little… and from that moment, we became close friends. It started from something small, but it felt natural."
Arou nodded.
"So that's how your friendship with Lumina began… interesting. Sometimes the smallest moments become the most important ones."
Airi looked at him calmly.
"Yeah. Simple encounters can turn into lasting connections. I think that's one of my small but meaningful memories."
They let the café's warmth fill the silence.
Arou realized—every fragment of Airi's past, every experience and connection, shaped who she is now.
And it helped him understand her beyond the strange memories haunting his mind.
---
After a while, Arou spoke again.
"You've told me a lot about your past… but now, is there something you want to achieve? Something different from before?"
Airi took a slow sip of her drink, looking out the window.
"Hmm… yeah. I want to try something new. Something that challenges me in a different way. Not just my abilities… but how I deal with unfamiliar situations."
Arou nodded.
"So it's not about competing or being stronger than others… but about growing?"
Airi smiled faintly.
"Yeah. Sometimes we focus too much on results or expectations. I want to see how far I can go on my own."
Arou smiled, sensing her sincerity.
"Then maybe we can support each other. Not to make things easier… but to make the journey less heavy."
Airi looked at him, a quiet trust in her eyes.
"Maybe. Sometimes, having someone who understands you without judging… is more valuable than advice or help."
They sat in silence for a moment, letting the café's sounds—clinking glasses, soft laughter—fill the space between them.
Arou looked out the window, watching people walk along the dew-covered pavement.
"Sometimes I feel like our path is like that dew," he said softly.
"Not always steady… sometimes slippery. But there's also freshness… and new chances in every step."
Airi smiled, leaning slightly forward.
"Yeah… life really is like that. Unpredictable, but always giving us another chance."
Arou turned to her.
"Then what's your first step after this?"
Airi set her cup down, glancing at the floor before lifting her head.
"First… I want to step out of my comfort zone. Try things I usually avoid, learn something new… and maybe discover a part of myself I haven't met yet."
Arou smiled, a spark in his eyes.
"Then let's start from here. Step outside, walk forward, and see what's waiting. Sometimes a small step is the beginning of something big."
Airi nodded, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
"Agreed. Sometimes the hardest part… is simply starting."
They stood, paid for their drinks, and pushed open the café door.
Cool morning air greeted them, carrying the scent of dew and a city just waking up.
Their steps felt light—yet filled with a new energy born from a conversation that was far from over.
As they walked along the sidewalk, Arou pointed toward a path leading to a park near the hill.
"How about we go there first? Might be a good place to start something new."
Airi smiled and nodded.
"Sounds good. Sometimes simple things lead to unexpected changes."
Their footsteps blended with the rhythm of the morning.
Their conversation continued—about possibilities, small plans, and the challenges ahead.
There was no pressure.
No expectations.
Only curiosity, courage, and the willingness to move forward together.
And for the first time in a long while, Arou felt something new—
not just something to remember…
but something to live.