—Naoaki's POV—
I had a dream again last night.
But this time, it wasn't blurry or vague. It wasn't made of shadows or soft recollections. It was sharp. Loud. Terrifying.
I remembered his voice—Ren's voice—but not the Ren I know now. A different one. A version of him who held me as I bled out in his arms, trembling as he whispered, "Don't close your eyes, please... just stay this time."
I woke up gasping, clutching my chest like the wound was still fresh.
My heart felt like it had been screaming all night.
I couldn't stay still anymore.
After school, I followed him.
Not on purpose. Not entirely. It just sort of… happened. One moment I was walking toward the gates, and the next, my feet turned after him like they had a mind of their own.
He didn't notice.
Or maybe he did—and just let me.
He stopped near the back of an old shrine, tucked between the hills behind our school, a place no one ever really went anymore. I watched from behind the torii gate as he pulled something out of his bag—a small charm.
It looked worn.
It looked familiar.
He knelt, and I saw his lips move. He was praying.
I stepped closer, unsure if I should interrupt—but then the wind blew, and he turned.
Ren didn't look surprised to see me.
"Do you always follow people without asking?"
I blinked. "I could say the same about how you've been watching me since day one."
There was a pause.
He stood, brushing off his uniform. "What do you want, Naoaki?"
I walked toward him, the dead leaves crunching under my shoes. "I want to know why… everything feels like a memory."
His jaw tightened.
I swallowed hard. "You were there. In those dreams. In the flashbacks. Weren't you?"
His eyes darkened.
"I remember dying, Ren. I remember your voice. I remember you." My voice cracked, but I didn't stop. "You said, 'Don't leave me again.' Those were your words, weren't they?"
He said nothing.
So I asked it—quietly, brokenly:
"You were him, weren't you?"
The silence that followed could've shattered the world.
His shoulders finally dropped. He looked tired—no, exhausted. Like he'd been carrying this weight across lifetimes.
"Yes," he whispered. "I was."
It felt like someone had punched the air out of my lungs.
I stared at him. "How long have you known?"
"Since the first day I saw you."
"Why didn't you tell me?!"
"Because I thought this life would be different," Ren said, voice low. "I thought maybe, if you didn't remember… we could live without the pain. Without repeating the end."
Tears stung the corner of my eyes, and I hated how fast they came.
"And you didn't think I deserved to know?"
"You weren't ready," he said, softer now. "You're still not."
I stepped back. "You don't get to decide that."
The hurt in his eyes was immediate—but he didn't argue.
I turned to leave.
But just before I did, I looked over my shoulder.
"I don't know who I was before," I said, "but this version of me? He's terrified. And he doesn't know whether to hate you or run straight into your arms."
Ren didn't say a word.
But as I walked away, I heard him whisper, barely audible on the wind:
"I've already lost you again and again, Naoaki. I don't know if I can do it again."