Chapter 11: Forgotten Promises 

The air outside felt unusually warm for late autumn. The streets bustled with students and workers heading home, yet Renji walked slowly, quietly, lost in thoughts that scratched at the back of his mind like ghosts he couldn't see.

His finger, still wrapped in bandages, throbbed dully, but he didn't complain. He was used to worse pains.

When he reached home and unlocked the door, the familiar silence greeted him. But then, the clinking of utensils from the kitchen made him pause.

"…Touka?"

There she was, standing barefoot, apron tied neatly around her waist, hair up in a messy bun. She glanced over her shoulder. "Oh, you're back earlier than I thought, Renji."

"You have a key?"

"You left your back door unlocked again. Honestly, do you want to get robbed?" she teased, then turned back to the stove.

Renji sighed, dropping his bag. "You don't have to do this every day."

"I know."

"Then why?"

Touka paused, then glanced back at him, eyes soft but unreadable. "Because I want to."

He sat down at the table, watching her as she hummed—a soft melody that tickled the edge of his memory.

"You're weird," he muttered.

"You're the one who's always grumpy," she shot back playfully.

There was silence for a moment. Then Renji spoke up again. "You're always here. You act like we're close, but we barely know each other. So tell me… how can you be so sure of your feelings?"

She paused. Her back was still turned, but her shoulders stiffened slightly.

"…Is that how you feel?" she said quietly.

Renji didn't answer.

Touka turned around, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. "You want the truth?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm not sure if it's love yet. But what I feel when I see you—it's real. And I'm not going to ignore it." She smiled, faint and sad. "Even if you've forgotten."

"…What?"

Her eyes flashed for a moment like she'd said too much. Then she covered it with a chuckle. "Nothing, nothing."

But in her mind, the memories played.

[Flashback – Years Ago]

Little Renji wore a tiny yukata, holding a fake ring made of ribbon and foil. Little Touka, in a pink kimono, stood in front of him with a teddy bear officiating their imaginary wedding.

"Do you promise to marry me when we grow up?" she asked seriously.

Renji grinned. "Of course! I'll build you a castle!"

But that fairytale ended too soon.

His father's company collapsed. News vans crowded their front yard. A heart attack stole his father. His mother, defeated, packed their things and left the city.

"I'll tell you my answer when we meet again!" Touka had cried, chasing the car as it drove away.

Renji had cried too.

"Touka."

"Hm?"

"You spaced out."

She blinked. "Oh—just lost in thought. What did you say?"

"I asked how you could be sure about your feelings. We've only just met."

Touka smiled, this time gentler. "You're right. But even if it's just a little feeling now, I'll make it grow. I'll turn it into something real."

Renji stared at her for a long moment. Then looked away. "Do whatever you want."

"I already am," she whispered.

She began humming again.

Renji froze.

"That song…"

Touka glanced at him. "What?"

"Where's it from?"

"Just something I remember from long ago."

He narrowed his eyes, but didn't ask further.

That night, before she left, she did something she hadn't done before.

She walked up to him, close, close enough to feel her breath. She reached out, placed her fingers softly over his chest.

"Right here," she said. "I'm going to make your heart remember me."

And she turned and walked out the door, leaving Renji standing in stunned silence, heart beating faster for reasons he couldn't explain.

The next day, Touka wasn't at the hospital or waiting outside his house.

Renji noticed.

He told himself he didn't care. But the way his eyes kept drifting to the school gate said otherwise.

She didn't show up that morning either.

It was strangely quiet without her voice teasing him or scolding him to eat properly. The air around him felt heavier.

Even the other students whispered more now. After Hina's confession in the auditorium and everything that followed, many looked at Renji differently—some with pity, some with guilt. But he didn't need pity. He didn't want attention.

He just wanted peace.

At lunch, he sat on the rooftop, alone with his bento.

He opened the lid.

Rice shaped into a heart.

His eyes twitched.

"…This woman."

A folded note was tucked inside the box.

You thought I'd stop just because you questioned me? Baka. I'm giving you space today, but I'm not done.PS: I'll be back tomorrow. Better miss me. ❤️–Touka

He closed the bento, heart skipping for a reason he hated.

But later that evening, just like she said, she returned. Not to his house—but to a spot only someone who knew him long ago would know.

The old riverside bench under the sakura trees.

He found her there after school, reading a book like she belonged.

"You remembered this place," he said quietly.

Touka looked up, calm. "You came."

"You left that note in my lunchbox. You broke into my house again?"

"I know your sister's spare key spot now. You really need better security."

He sat beside her, careful not to look directly.

"…So what now?" he asked.

Touka closed her book. "Now? Now I begin phase two."

He raised an eyebrow. "Phase two?"

"My mission: Make Renji fall in love with me." She winked.

"I'm not interested in—"

She leaned close, nose almost brushing his. "Not yet. But you will be."

Renji looked away fast, ears turning red.

"Are you always this pushy?"

Touka leaned back, laughing softly. "Only when I know what I want."

Silence settled between them again. The sound of wind brushing through leaves filled the gap.

Renji finally asked, "Why this bench?"

Touka's smile faded into something wistful. "You used to call this our secret base."

He flinched. Just slightly. Something about those words—it wasn't new.

"…We used to come here?"

She nodded. "When we were little. You brought me here after my dog died. Said crying in front of adults was lame, so you let me cry here instead."

"I said that…?"

"You were a brat even back then," she giggled. "But sweet."

Renji stared at the ground. "I don't remember."

"I know," she said quietly.

He looked at her.

She didn't look angry. Just… sad. But patient.

"Do you hate me for forgetting?"

Touka shook her head. "Not even a little. I just want you to remember how much you once loved me."

Renji's breath caught.

She stood, brushing off her skirt.

"And when you do… I'll be waiting for that answer you gave me back then."

He blinked. "What answer?"

Touka winked over her shoulder. "You'll remember."

Later That Night

Renji lay in bed, eyes open in the dark. The memories wouldn't come. But emotions did. Little flashes of warmth when he thought of that bench… or the hum she always used when cooking… or her fingers resting on his chest.

He didn't know what to call this feeling. But it wasn't emptiness.

It was something.

The Next Morning

Renji stepped into class and froze.

On his desk: a tiny folded paper sakura flower.

No note. No signature.

Just that.

He crushed it in his fist.

And yet… he didn't throw it away.

Touka's Room

Touka was talking to herself in front of her vanity.

"Okay, phase two is a go. Operation: Reignite First Love—Day 1 complete."

She picked up a photo—two kids grinning wildly, one holding a paper crown.

She touched it gently.

"I'll make you remember, Renji. Even if I have to replay every childhood moment again."

Then her phone buzzed.

A message.

From a blocked contact.

You're getting too close to him.Stay away.

Touka stared.

And then smiled.

"Yuuto, huh…?"

She looked out the window, eyes narrowing with resolve.

"Try me."

End of Chapter 11 💫