The Moment of Truth

The living room was filled with memories of Aito—photos on the walls, trophies on the shelves, and a guitar propped in the corner. Haru felt a strange pull toward the room, as though it were calling to him.

As they sat down, Mr. Sasaki joined them, his expression somber but welcoming.

"What do you want to know about Aito?" he asked, his voice steady despite the weight of the question.

Haru looked at Hana and Riku, who nodded encouragingly. Taking a deep breath, he spoke. "I've been having dreams… about him. About his life, his friends, and… his death. I don't know why, but it feels like I'm connected to him somehow."

The room fell silent. Mrs. Sasaki's eyes filled with tears, and Mr. Sasaki's hands clenched into fists.

"It's been years," Mr. Sasaki said quietly. "But not a day goes by that we don't think of him. If he's trying to reach out, maybe it's because there's something left unfinished."

"What happened after the accident?" Riku asked gently.

Mrs. Sasaki took a shaky breath. "After Aito's death, we tried to reach out to the girl he saved, but she disappeared. Her family moved away, and we never heard from them again. We've always wondered if she ever knew how much she meant to him."

Haru felt his chest tighten. Aika…

"There's something else," Mr. Sasaki added. "Before the accident, Aito was writing letters. We found them in his room after he passed, but… we never opened them. We thought they were too personal."

"Do you still have them?" Hana asked, her voice filled with urgency.

Mrs. Sasaki nodded and disappeared into another room. She returned with a small, worn box and handed it to Haru. "If Aito is speaking through you, then these might help you understand."

Haru accepted the box with trembling hands. Inside, he knew, were pieces of a puzzle he wasn't sure he was ready to solve.

Back at Riku's home, the three sat in silence around the small box of letters. The air felt heavy, as if the room itself was holding its breath. Haru gently opened the box, revealing a neat stack of envelopes, each addressed in Aito's familiar handwriting.

Hana's hands trembled as she picked up the first letter. "Should we… should we read them out loud?" she asked softly.

Riku nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "We owe it to him."

Haru leaned back, his heart pounding as Hana unfolded the first letter.

Letter 1

Dear future me,

It's strange to write this, knowing I might never read it. But if you're reading this, it means I've made it another day. That's something, right?

Hana's voice wavered, and she paused, wiping her eyes before continuing.

Do you ever feel like you're running out of time, even when everything seems fine? I do. It's like there's this clock ticking somewhere, and no matter what I do, I can't make it stop. But that's okay. Time isn't something we're meant to control. We're just supposed to make the most of it.

—------------------------------------------------------------

Haru felt a lump rise in his throat. The words seemed to echo something deep within him, something he couldn't quite grasp.

Hana carefully unfolded the second letter, her hands shaking.

Here's how we can craft the reading of Aito's letters, making them deeply emotional and engaging for the readers. Aito's awareness of his short life will be reflected in his words, written with a blend of hope, love, and melancholy.

The Letters of Aito

Back at Riku's home, the three sat in silence around the small box of letters. The air felt heavy, as if the room itself was holding its breath. Haru gently opened the box, revealing a neat stack of envelopes, each addressed in Aito's familiar handwriting.

Hana's hands trembled as she picked up the first letter. "Should we… should we read them out loud?" she asked softly.

Riku nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "We owe it to him."

Haru leaned back, his heart pounding as Hana unfolded the first letter.

Letter 1

Dear future me,

It's strange to write this, knowing I might never read it. But if you're reading this, it means I've made it another day. That's something, right?

Hana's voice wavered, and she paused, wiping her eyes before continuing.

Do you ever feel like you're running out of time, even when everything seems fine? I do. It's like there's this clock ticking somewhere, and no matter what I do, I can't make it stop. But that's okay. Time isn't something we're meant to control. We're just supposed to make the most of it.

Haru felt a lump rise in his throat. The words seemed to echo something deep within him, something he couldn't quite grasp.

Hana carefully unfolded the second letter, her hands shaking.

Letter 2

To the one I could never say this to,

You don't know how many times I've tried to tell you. I practiced in front of the mirror, in my head, even out loud when no one was around. But every time I see you, my words get stuck somewhere between my heart and my mouth.

Riku leaned forward, his voice tense. "He's talking about Aika, isn't he?"

Hana nodded, tears streaming down her face as she continued.

I see you under the sakura tree, and the world feels… brighter. It's funny, isn't it? How one person can change everything. But I'm scared. What if I tell you, and it ruins what we have? Or worse, what if I never get the chance to tell you at all?

—------------------------------------------------------------

Haru clenched his fists, the words resonating so deeply they felt like his own thoughts.

Letter 3

Dear Hana and Riku,

You guys are my everything. My partners in crime, my second family. I hope you know that. I don't say it enough—actually, I don't think I've ever said it—but I'm grateful for you. You're the reason I get up every morning, the reason I keep going even when it feels like the world is falling apart.

Hana's voice cracked as she read the next part.

If something ever happens to me, promise me you'll stick together. Look after each other, okay? And if you ever feel lost, remember that the three of us were unstoppable once. We still are. Even if I'm not there

—------------------------------------------------------------

Riku's eyes glistened, and he turned away, trying to hide his emotions. "Damn it, Aito," he muttered.

The Final Letter

Hana unfolded the last letter, her hands trembling.

To anyone who finds this,

If you're reading this, it means my story is over. But that doesn't mean it's the end. Maybe my time here was short, but it was worth it. Every smile, every laugh, every moment with the people I care about—it was all worth it.

Haru felt his chest tighten as Hana continued.

I just hope… I did enough. That I made a difference, even in some small way. And if you're the one reading this, whoever you are, don't waste a second. Life is short, but it's also beautiful. Make it count.

Hana's voice broke, and she couldn't continue. Haru took the letter from her and finished reading aloud, his own voice thick with emotion.

And if you ever see a sakura tree in full bloom, think of me. I'll be there, in the petals, in the wind, in the sunlight. I'll always be there.

The room fell silent, the weight of Aito's words pressing down on all of them. Haru stared at the letters, his heart aching.

"He knew," Haru said quietly. "Somehow, he knew he didn't have much time."

"But he didn't let it stop him," Riku said. "He kept living, kept loving, even knowing what might happen."

Haru looked at Hana and Riku, determination in his eyes. "We need to find Aika. She deserves to know."