A Promise in the Wind

The next morning, the rain had stopped, but the air still carried its lingering chill. Tokyo's streets were lined with puddles, reflecting the hazy glow of the sun. Aoi arrived at school early, her steps purposeful as she climbed the stairs to the rooftop.

Haruki wasn't the type to skip class, but she had a feeling he'd be somewhere quiet, away from the noise of the bustling hallways. When she reached the top, she found him leaning against the metal railing, the city sprawling out beneath him.

"You always hide up here," Aoi said, walking over to him.

Haruki turned, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I like the view."

She stood beside him, her hands gripping the cold railing. "It's nice," she admitted, "but it's also lonely."

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "Loneliness isn't so bad," he said softly.

"Haruki," she said, her voice firm, "why do you keep saying things like that? Like it's okay to be alone. Like you're not allowed to be happy."

He didn't respond right away, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. Finally, he said, "Because sometimes, happiness feels like a lie. And lies always hurt more in the end."

Aoi frowned, frustration bubbling in her chest. "But that's not true! You deserve to be happy, just like anyone else."

Haruki let out a soft laugh, one that carried no humor. "You're always so sure about things, Aoi. It's one of the things I admire about you."

The sudden admission caught her off guard, and for a moment, she couldn't speak. Haruki turned to face her, his eyes filled with an emotion she couldn't quite name.

"I mean it," he continued. "You're... different. You make things brighter."

"Then let me brighten your world," she said, her voice trembling. "Let me help you, Haruki. You don't have to carry everything alone."

Haruki looked at her, something breaking in his gaze. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper, folded neatly.

"What's this?" Aoi asked, taking it from him.

"Just something I wrote," he said quietly. "Read it later, when you're alone."

---

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Aoi kept the note tucked safely in her pocket, her mind racing with questions. When she finally got home, she shut her bedroom door and unfolded the paper with trembling hands.

The handwriting was neat but hesitant, as though each word had been carefully chosen.

*"Aoi,

Thank you for always being kind to me. You'll never know how much that means. I'm not good at saying things out loud, but there's something I want you to know. You're the kind of person who deserves the world—someone who brings light to others just by being yourself.

I'm sorry I can't give you the same. But even if I can't say it, even if I can never show it, please know that you matter to me. More than anyone else ever has."*

The note ended there, with no signature, no explanation. Aoi stared at the words, her heart aching with emotions she couldn't name.

---

The next day, she confronted Haruki after school. "Why did you give me this?" she asked, holding up the note.

Haruki looked away, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Because it's the truth," he said simply.

"Haruki," she said, stepping closer, "you can't just write something like this and then pretend it doesn't matter. It does matter. You matter."

He flinched, as though her words had struck a nerve. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to... make things hard for you."

"You didn't," she insisted. "But you're making things hard for yourself. Why can't you just let someone in? Why can't you let me in?"

Haruki's shoulders tensed, and for a moment, Aoi thought he might shut her out again. But then he sighed, a sound heavy with defeat.

"Because I'm afraid," he admitted. "Afraid that if I let someone in, I'll hurt them. Or they'll hurt me. And I don't think I can take that."

Aoi reached out, her hand brushing his arm. "Haruki, pain is a part of life. But so is love. And you don't have to face either of them alone."

He looked at her then, his eyes filled with a vulnerability she had never seen before. "Aoi," he said softly, "why do you care so much?"

"Because I see you," she said simply. "And I want you to see yourself the way I do."

---