Location: Akane's Apartment, the night after the B-Komachi concert

  Gentle rain fell on the glass roof, its rhythmic sound acting like a metronome, keeping time flowing in a slowly fracturing world and creating a melancholic atmosphere reminiscent of a fragile state of mind.

  Fitran stood at the door of the small minimalist apartment, holding a bag containing two bottles of barley tea and a box of red bean bread, as if carrying hope in a material form. Gazing at the sky, he played with the reflections of dew on the glass; tonight felt desolate, as if time were waiting for his arrival, expecting something significant to be revealed.

  He had yet to knock.

  But then, the door opened from within.

  Akane was waiting for him.

  Akane stood at the door, her silhouette reflecting the soft glow of the interior light. She seemed slightly tired, not just from the concert the night before but also from the incessant thoughts swirling in her mind. “Come in.”

  Just one word. No smile.

  The apartment was silent and cold—not from the weather—but from an atmosphere thick with tension. The sound of dripping water from a leaky pipe filled the vacant space, adding an eerie mood, making him acutely aware that every sound held significance and each drop was a reminder of unspoken words lingering in the air.

  “I don’t like drama,” Akane said as she pulled out tea from her pocket. “But I am an actress. Ironic, isn’t it?” Leaning her shoulder against the wall, she sought strength despite her vulnerable position. The expression on her face revealed a profound struggle with her own thoughts, reflecting a conflict often experienced by artists—trapped between the identities they create and their authentic selves.

  Fitran sat down. “You are someone who manipulates emotions... to reveal the emotions of others.”

  Akane stared at him. “And you... do you know who you are when you are with us?”

  Fitran fell silent. He felt the walls of the apartment close in, as if the space was holding its breath, waiting for an answer that would not come.

  “Because I don’t,” Akane continued. “When you are with Kana, you are like an enemy who understands her wounds. With Ruby, you are a bright protector. With Mecho, you become a walking metaphor.”

  “And with you?” Fitran asked. The voice within him trembled, reflecting the uncertainty that loomed.

  Akane smiled bitterly. “With me... you become someone I cannot portray.”

  Fitran allowed the silence to answer. The heaviness in his chest grew, as if every unspoken word became a burden.

  Then Akane sat across from him. So close. The warm aroma of tea contrasted with the cold presence enveloping the atmosphere.

  “I have already lost Aqua. I have lost my friend, the stage, and even my faith in the role I play.”

  Fitran locked eyes with her, recognizing that Akane wasn’t acting. This was her—raw, emotional, and marked by deep wounds. Her face radiated a vulnerability that she rarely showed to the outside world, a testament to the burdens she bore.

  “And now,” Akane whispered, “you come like a ghost from another realm, bringing confusing peace.”

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  “I didn’t come to bring peace,” Fitran replied softly. “I just don’t know how to leave.”

  Every word felt heavier, and silence flowed between them like an invisible current, binding them in doubt.

  “Then... why didn’t you ever choose?”

  Fitran inhaled deeply, his voice trembling, pushing the cool air from the slightly open window, creating a rhythm that was almost soothing amid the tension filling the room.

  “Because each of you loves a part of me that I haven’t even had the chance to understand myself.”

  Akane looked down. “You know, I can cry in front of the camera without feeling sad.”

  She gazed at Fitran, tears hovering at the edges of her eyes. “But in front of you, I feel sad... and that frightens me.”

  Fitran leaned closer. “Why are you afraid?”

  Akane bit her lip, searching for words that were hard to find amidst the labyrinth of her emotions. The rain outside bore silent witness, as if feeling the weight they both carried.

  “Because if I truly love you, and you still don’t choose me... I will hate you forever.”

  Both fell silent.

  The rain outside grew heavier, resonating with their collective tension. Yet within the apartment, the world folded into silence, allowing two souls to test their limits. The sound of raindrops pounding against the window created a heart-wrenching melody, as if each drop conveyed a message about the uncertainty of love that enveloped them, while the aroma of damp earth intensified the weight of the atmosphere hanging between them.

  Akane clasped Fitran's hand. “If I step further... will you pull me back? Or let me fall?”

  Fitran didn’t withdraw his hand, but he also didn’t tighten his grip. He felt the temperature in the apartment drop, even as the rain outside brought warmth through its steady sound.

  “I... am not ready to love like a normal person.”

  Akane smiled bitterly. “That’s not an answer.”

  “That is honesty.”

  Akane stood up. Slowly. Then she leaned forward slightly, bringing her face closer to Fitran’s. Between them, there was a palpable tension, as if time stood still, waiting for the decisions of their hearts.

  “Am I going to kiss someone who can’t love me?” she asked softly.

  Fitran looked at her, and within that gaze was a blend of emotions—sadness, hope, and uncertainty—intertwined in the silence of the moment.

  “If that kiss can give you back the meaning you've lost, then yes.”

  They stared at each other, their breaths slowly merging. Between them, hope and fear mingled in an almost unbearable tension, like electricity crackling in the air. Everything unspoken seemed to be waiting to be revealed, held back only by the gripping uncertainty that engulfed them.

  But just before their lips could meet, Akane pulled away.

  “It turns out... I'm not ready either,” she said with a bitter laugh, a sound that reflected the lies she told herself amidst the surrounding uncertainty.

  Fitran merely nodded in response. He felt no urge to pursue her; there was no anger, only a deep sense of understanding and acceptance.

  But before she could leave, Akane grasped his wrist.

  “Listen carefully.”

  “If you don’t choose anyone, eventually we will all choose to... leave you.”

  Fitran was not surprised.

  Akane looked into his eyes—piercing yet fragile.

  “I don’t want to be the woman waiting in line for a love that isn’t clear.”

  Fitran gently touched her cheek. “Then don’t wait. Stand up. Face me. If I’m strong enough, I will stay with you. But if I fall... you will know that it isn’t love, and that’s a truth I don’t want to confront.”

  Akane’s tears fell.

  He let Fitran go that night—his chest heavier than usual, feeling as if every step he took carried the weight of hope and the profound sorrow of parting. Each step Fitran took felt increasingly burdensome, as if the weight of longing was binding his feet to the place he was leaving behind. His heart raced in sync with the distant ticking of a clock, the monotonous sound reminding him of time that continued to march forward without pause.

  Outside the apartment, Fitran walked aimlessly.

  The night sky in Tokyo was shrouded in mist.

  He looked up.

  For a moment, he yearned to return to his original world—a world of destruction and magic—where grappling with human emotions was unnecessary. The dim streetlights danced behind the curtain of fog, creating a silenced atmosphere that resonated deep within his soul, as if challenging him to ponder more profoundly the choices he had made and the consequences that might follow.

  But a gentle voice in his head whispered:

  “If you are strong... I will stay with you.”

  And that whisper was enough to carry him through another day. In his heart, he silently pleaded with the faint stars—wondering if they could hear his doubts and aspirations. With every breath, his hope mirrored the vulnerabilities hidden within him, guiding him to keep moving forward as his steps grew more unsteady, yet determined.