[Naoki Aiba POV]
By the time I reached home, the clouds that had blanketed the sky since morning had dissolved into a rain that seemed to fall straight from the heavens to the earth.
It wasn't quite a downpour yet. Even so, the sheets of rain crossing beneath the streetlights were plainly visible, and a thin film of water had formed across the road. Every time a car passed, a low splash rose from the wet asphalt.
Stepping under the eaves of the entryway, I closed my umbrella with my left hand.
Trying to keep my right shoulder completely still made even looping my fingers around the strap a chore. Drops falling from the tip of the umbrella formed dark, pooling stains on the ground at my feet, one after another.
"Welcome home, Onii-chan."
Having noticed the sound of the door, Koharu poked her head out from down the hallway.
"I'm home. Koharu, how are you feeling?"
"I'm fine. No fever, no cough. I even sat through all my classes."
"What about lunch?"
"I ate."
"Really?"
"Believe me, will you? Besides, how many times are you going to ask me the same thing today?"
Though she sounded exasperated, Koharu's voice had returned to its usual rhythm. There was healthy color in her cheeks. Her complexion looked noticeably better than when we had walked to school together.
"Just to be safe."
"You're being way too cautious."
"You just collapsed, so what do you expect?"
"Someone told me the exact same thing at school today."
"Sawamura?"
"Both Anna and the upperclassmen."
Koharu answered, her gaze drifting toward my right hand.
"What about you, Onii-chan? How's your shoulder?"
"The pain hasn't gotten any worse. I didn't push myself at school, either."
"Then why did it take you so long just to fold up your umbrella?"
"Because I didn't use my right hand, obviously."
"...Well, if you say so."
Though she conceded with her words, Koharu's eyes remained fixed on my shoulder.
"I'm really fine."
"We promised you wouldn't just brush it off by saying 'I'm fine,' remember?"
"I know. The pain is the same as this morning. Not bad enough to need medicine."
Once I answered that much, Koharu finally nodded.
I wiped down my wet bag and changed from my school uniform into loungewear. When I entered the living room, my portion of dinner sat at the edge of the dining table, covered in plastic wrap.
Mom was standing in the kitchen. Even though Koharu had clearly already finished eating, she sat in the chair across from me and began talking about her day while I picked up my chopsticks.
How she had sat through every single class for the first time in a while. How Sawamura had tried to carry her bag every time they moved classrooms. And how, during lunch break, she had been able to thank the upperclassmen who had helped her when she collapsed.
"Were you able to thank all of them properly?"
"Miu-senpai wasn't there, but they said they'd let her know later. They also told me they'd already accepted my thanks, so I'm forbidden from bringing it up again."
"Then next time you see them, just talk to them normally."
"That's the plan."
Her voice, which had sounded somewhat dissatisfied, brightened a little.
I nodded and resumed moving my chopsticks.
Mikage had probably been there, too. In the end, I hadn't crossed paths with her even once today.
The "See you... tomorrow" we had exchanged when parting yesterday hadn't been a strict promise to meet today. Even so, I had thought there might at least be a chance of passing each other in the school hallways.
Several times since morning, I had caught myself looking for her bright, ash-beige hair.
Part of me felt genuinely disappointed that I hadn't found her.
The next time we met, I wanted to talk to her about something other than Koharu—even just one small thing.
Whether it was things she liked or things she disliked, it didn't matter. Just as Mikage had reached out and closed the distance on her own, I wanted to share a bit of the everyday version of myself at school with her.
Raindrops struck the windowpane.
The sounds, which had been distinct and individual at first, began to blur into a seamless, overlapping patter by the time I finished dinner.
"Onii-chan, leave the dishes."
"I can at least carry them to the sink."
"Only if you don't use your right hand—"
"I'll just carry one plate with my left."
"Don't drop it, okay?"
"D-Do you really have that little faith in me?"
"Hmm, maybe about fifty-fifty right now."
Trading banter, I carried the dish over. I tried to help with the washing, but Mom shooed me out of the kitchen.
"We agreed on this division of chores until your shoulder heals, didn't we?"
"I can do it with just my left hand."
"It's not a matter of whether you can or can't; it's about whether you can keep your promise to rest."
"Alright, I get it."
"Can I actually trust that answer?"
"Please don't start sounding like Koharu."
Mom smiled faintly, then turned her gaze toward the dining table.
"Naoki. If you're done eating, do you have a moment?"
Her tone was different from just moments ago.
Koharu seemed to notice as well, setting down the plate she held into the sink.
"What is it?"
"Koharu, go take a bath first. You promised to rest early tonight, right?"
"But—"
"It's not about his injury, so you don't need to worry."
Koharu looked back and forth between Mom and me. She looked like she wanted to say something, but in the end, she nodded and left the living room.
Footsteps echoed up the stairs, followed shortly after by the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut.
Mom waited for that before opening the purse she had left at the edge of the dining table.
"I received this from the police today."
What she pulled out was a single white envelope.
"It's from the person you saved during the fire. They said their review is complete and asked to have it handed over to you."
The sound of running water in the kitchen had stopped.
In its place, only the rain drumming against the window suddenly became piercingly clear.
"...It arrived."
"You knew about it?"
"A while ago... at school, I happened to overhear Mikage-san and her friends talking. They mentioned it was being reviewed by the police."
"I see."
I accepted the envelope she held out with my left hand.
Written across the front was: To the person who saved me in the fire.
I flipped it over.
In the sender section, it read: Serina Mikage.
"I haven't read what's inside. It was addressed to you."
"Yeah."
"...You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but if anything comes up, I'm always here to listen."
"Understood."
Mom didn't pry any further and returned to doing the dishes.
Holding the envelope, I headed up to my room.
With every step I climbed, the sound of the rain beating against the roof grew closer. Outside the hallway window, the darkness was deeper than when I had arrived home. The sheets of rain glowing faintly white around the streetlights had thickened, blurring the silhouettes of the houses beyond.
◇◇◇
I turned on only the desk lamp.
The corners of the room remained shrouded in shadow, and the windowpane reflected not the view outside, but the image of myself holding the envelope.
Sitting down in my chair, I placed the letter on the desk.
I couldn't bring myself to open it immediately.
I remembered the moment in the middle of the fire when Mikage had asked for my name.
The reason I hadn't given it back then was that stating my name felt like a final farewell.
I'll tell you once we get outside.
When we go get crepes.
By making that promise, I had wanted Mikage to believe that there was a future waiting beyond that place.
After making it outside, I lost consciousness before I could tell her my name.
That was why, upon being discharged, I had fully intended to introduce myself once I returned to school.
What stopped me was overhearing that conversation between Mikage and her friends.
If it's the person who went back into the fire and got hurt just to save me, I couldn't easily bring myself to hate him even if he's different from what I imagined.
Hearing Mikage say that was what made it impossible for me to give my name.
If she learned I was the one who saved her, she might feel unable to reject me—even if she was actually scared, even if she hated it. Every time she looked at the scar on my right shoulder, she might feel indebted, and even our promise to get crepes might turn into an obligation to repay a debt of gratitude.
I didn't want to get close to her like that.
Not until Mikage knew the person I was outside of that fire.
Not until she could look at the Naoki Aiba who existed at school as an ordinary guy, and still feel that it was okay to fulfill that promise.
Until then, I wouldn't give my name.
That was what I had decided.
Even now, I didn't know if that choice was the right one.
All I knew for certain was that I hadn't stayed silent because I had forgotten our promise.
I slipped my finger under the edge of the envelope.
Careful not to tear the paper, I slowly broke the seal.
Inside was a neatly folded sheet of stationery.
I read the very first line.
—To you, who didn't leave me all alone that day.
With just those words, the lingering tension in the depths of my chest eased slightly.
What Mikage remembered wasn't just the final outcome of being rescued.
It was that I had been by her side in a place where she thought no one else was.
That I had told her I wouldn't leave her behind.
She had written it as: didn't leave me all alone.
The letter continued, explaining that she had been safely discharged and had returned to school. It also mentioned that all three of her friends were completely unharmed.
I already knew all of this.
Even so, knowing that the Mikage who wrote this letter had wanted to convey her safety to me brought a quiet warmth to my chest.
I read on.
She wrote that she was still worried about the injury to my right shoulder.
However, she added that even if she apologized, she had a feeling I would just tell her it wasn't her fault.
"Yeah... you're entirely right."
In the empty room, a murmur slipped from my lips.
That injury wasn't Mikage's fault.
After making it outside once, I was the one who decided to go back in. Mikage hadn't asked me to. Even if the pain lingered in my right shoulder, I had no intention of passing that burden onto her.
Mikage had known I would answer like that.
So instead of piling on apologies, she offered straightforward gratitude for coming to save her, for not leaving her alone, and for returning her safely to her friends.
As I traced the handwriting, the sound of the rain lashing at the window faded into the background of my mind.
I'm glad you're safe.
I'm glad you made it back to your friends.
I'm so glad you can smile at school again.
The words I had kept locked in my heart, unable to deliver in person, began taking shape one by one.
I dropped my gaze to the next paragraph.
—I still remember the sound of your voice repeatedly telling me to rest easy.
My eyes halted over that single sentence.
Those were the words I had repeated over and over in the midst of the fire.
Not knowing what else to say, I had spoken them simply wishing to put Mikage at ease.
Those words still remained within her even now.
Further down, she wrote that she hadn't forgotten the promise to tell her my name once we got outside, nor the promise to go eat crepes together.
It doesn't have to be until your injury is fully healed.
I want to meet you and hear your name.
I don't want the promise from that day to be something only I remember.
The final sentence concluded with: I will be waiting for the day we can go eat crepes together.
The signature read: Serina Mikage.
Even after finishing it, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the letter for quite some time.
I had already known that Mikage remembered our promise.
I had heard her talking with her friends at school about wanting to meet me, wanting to know my name, and not forgetting our promise about the crepes.
Even so, words overheard by chance were completely different from words penned directly for me.
To someone whose face and name she didn't even know, Mikage had delivered words she chose herself.
That fact spread through the depths of my chest with a gentle warmth.
It wasn't just some unrealistic exchange shared in the midst of a fire. For Mikage as well, it remained a real promise meant for after we made it outside.
I felt that just being able to receive this letter was more than enough.
It didn't have to be right away.
Once Mikage got to know the me who existed at school and chose to continue that promise of her own free will, that was when I could tell her my name.
When I thought that, the small spark of hope that had lingered in my chest since daytime surfaced once more.
Yesterday, Mikage had closed the distance between us on her own.
When parting, she had smiled and told me, "See you tomorrow."
There was no need to rush.
Little by little, all I had to do was let her get to know the me who had nothing to do with the fire.
As I moved to fold the letter, my fingers froze.
—I still remember the sound of your voice repeatedly telling me to rest easy.
The sound of the rain, which had faded from my awareness, suddenly rushed back.
Outside the window, the wind had picked up, lashing the glass with a sharper, harsher cadence than before.
Why did that specific phrase catch in my mind just now?
Due to the smoke, she had barely been able to see my face. My voice, raspy and damaged from the fumes, should have sounded completely different from my normal tone.
That was why I had believed she wouldn't recognize me when we met at school.
I lifted my head from the letter.
Reflected in the windowpane was the silhouette of myself sitting at the desk, over which endless streaks of rain flowed continuously.
For the first time, a small sense of incongruity took root within that assumption.
—When did Mikage's attitude actually change?
When we passed each other in the hallway for the first time after the fire, Mikage hadn't even tried to check my face. When I stepped aside toward the wall to make way, she had simply walked past with her friends.
Later, when we spoke for the first time in the infirmary, she had been on guard around me when I suddenly rushed in.
The moment that shifted drastically was the morning after Koharu collapsed in the hallway.
The day before that, when I had rushed into the infirmary, Mikage was right beside Koharu.
Mikage had stepped out of the infirmary once with her friends.
After that, I spoke with Koharu.
She had asked me if I had run all the way there even though my right shoulder hadn't healed.
Koharu blamed herself, thinking she had forced me to overexert myself because she collapsed.
While trying to deny that, I ended up explaining that I had gone back from a safe area to rescue someone, injuring my right shoulder in the process.
I promised Koharu that I wouldn't hide anything anymore and told her to rest easy.
Right after that conversation, Mikage had returned to the infirmary.
Her eyes had been red.
She had repeatedly looked not just at my face, but at my nearly motionless right arm and the area around my right shoulder.
Back then, I assumed she was simply being considerate after learning that Koharu's brother was injured as well.
—But what if.
What if Mikage had been listening to our conversation from just outside the closed door?
That I had returned from a safe area to save someone.
That the right shoulder injury I suffered back then still hadn't healed.
A single detail could be dismissed as a coincidence.
However, Mikage knew the me from inside the fire.
Not my face or my everyday voice, but what I had done in the midst of that disaster.
If those details overlapped, it could easily have served as the trigger for her to suspect my identity.
Of course, I had no way of knowing what she had heard or what connections she had drawn.
There was even a possibility she had noticed something else entirely that I was completely unaware of.
The look in Mikage's eyes when she returned to the infirmary resurfaced in my mind.
She had looked like she wanted to ask something, but held back.
She looked at my face, looked at my right shoulder, and ultimately left without saying a word.
The following morning, Mikage had greeted me of her own accord for the very first time.
The timing of that change was far too close to be a mere coincidence.
The rain grew one notch heavier.
The water streaming down the windowpane merged into dense ribbons, entirely stripping the streetlights outside of their outlines.
I looked back down at the letter.
This was written before Mikage knew me as Naoki Aiba.
The person addressed here was merely a nameless individual who had returned into the fire.
I want to meet you.
I want to know your name.
I'm waiting to fulfill the rest of our promise.
If the Mikage holding those wishes had already begun piecing together my identity in the infirmary...
Then to whom were all those greetings directed afterward?
Not running away upon seeing me, but stepping closer on her own.
Choosing to stand beside me when people passed by, even if it was to distance herself from other boys.
Smiling and telling me "See you tomorrow" when we parted.
I had believed all of those things were directed at the Naoki Aiba who existed at school.
I thought she was slowly closing the distance between us after getting to know me as Koharu's older brother—a person entirely separate from the fire.
That was why I had been happy.
That was why I had wanted to share things about myself next time.
However, if the me from inside the fire was at the root of it all—
Mikage might only be trying to get close because I was the person who saved her.
She might even be forcing herself to suppress her fear of men, believing she shouldn't reject her savior.
"...No."
Reaching that thought, I immediately brushed it aside.
I had no right to decide Mikage's feelings for her before she did.
Mikage was the one who chose to take that half-step.
Her smile, her saying "See you tomorrow"—none of that was something I had fabricated in my own mind.
Reducing all of it to mere gratitude or a sense of indebtedness would mean completely denying Mikage's own choices.
Yet, I couldn't bring myself to say it was entirely unrelated to the fire, either.
I didn't know.
Neither possibility could be confirmed without asking her directly.
However, if I asked her now, it would mean demanding an answer from her.
Do you know I'm the person from the fire?
Did you approach me knowing that?
What do you think of Naoki Aiba himself?
Faced with such questions, Mikage would inevitably try to offer some kind of response. She might even be forced to put things into words that hadn't yet taken clear shape within her own heart.
I didn't want to do that.
I had refrained from giving my name precisely so she wouldn't feel rushed to find an answer; cornering her just to confirm the truth would defeat the entire purpose.
I picked up the letter.
Even though the room should have been entirely shielded from the humid rain, the paper felt terribly frail in my hands.
The warmth that had bloomed in my chest when I first read it hadn't disappeared.
Knowing Mikage was safe, that she remembered our promise, and that she wished to meet me still brought me joy.
However, beneath that joy, a different emotion was beginning to sink in.
The distance I had tried so hard to protect might have already lost all meaning.
If Mikage had already realized the truth, she wouldn't be able to view the me from the fire and the me at school as two separate people.
Yet, if she hadn't realized it, there was no reason for me to pull back our distance based solely on my own suspicions.
Whichever path I chose, I would be acting purely on assumptions about Mikage's feelings.
Tonight was not the night to reach a conclusion.
I folded the letter back along its original creases and slipped it into the envelope.
At first, the edges were slightly misaligned. When I tried again, the opposite side didn't line up. Only on the third attempt did it finally return to its proper shape.
I opened the desk drawer and placed the letter at the very top.
It wasn't that I wanted to lock it away.
I simply wanted to keep it in a place where it wouldn't get lost or wet, where I could read it again whenever I wished.
Even after closing the drawer, that final sentence remained etched before my eyes.
I will be waiting for the day we can go eat crepes together.
I had been waiting for that day, too.
A day where I could give her my name and talk about the rest of our promise in a place free of fire and smoke.
And yet right now, I couldn't even tell whether I was moving closer to that day or drifting further away.
Leaving the chair, I stood by the window.
The neighboring house across the street and the road itself—both visible when I came home—had almost entirely vanished beyond the veil of rain. The countless streaks streaming down the glass fractured the light of the streetlamps into minute shards.
When I saw Mikage tomorrow, I would call her "Mikage-san" just as I always had.
I wouldn't ask if she knew my identity.
I wouldn't mention having read the letter right away, either.
Until Mikage chose to put it into words herself, I wouldn't decide the answer on my own.
I felt that was the only course of action left to me.
However, I could no longer wait with the exact same feelings I held up until yesterday.
Was that half-step directed at Naoki Aiba?
Or was it directed at the nameless stranger who had returned into the fire?
The rain beating against the window continued to intensify.
As if to seal shut a night that offered no answers, even the wind violently rattled the glass.