Rain tapped gently against the windowpanes as Hiro sat alone in the library, the red mark on his wrist hidden beneath his jacket sleeve. He had tried everything—ointments, bandages, even saltwater. But nothing could erase the faint, scarring imprint: *MINE.*
He hadn't seen Ayaka in three days.
And that, somehow, made it worse.
His sleep had become fragmented, each dream tinted crimson — fields of red ribbons stretching into infinity, the sound of a lullaby echoing through fog, and always Ayaka's voice whispering, "Forever."
He needed answers.
He began digging — not just into university records, but into Ayaka's past, her family, her return. There were no gaps, but that was the problem. It was *too* clean. Too curated. The address she claimed to live at wasn't listed under her name. Her father, supposedly a diplomat, had no public trace in Japanese registries.
What disturbed him most was an anonymous online post in an obscure urban legend forum: *"Beware the girl with red eyes. She returns with spring. She never forgets. She never forgives."*
It was dated ten years ago.
Hiro's heart beat faster. That was the year Ayaka left.
That night, as he left the library, he felt it — the same presence. A subtle pressure on the back of his neck, like invisible eyes brushing his skin. He turned.
Nothing.
But when he entered his dorm, his roommate was gone. Clothes still in the closet. Wallet on the desk. Lights left on. Just… gone.
His phone buzzed.
**AYAKA:** *Are you feeling lonely?*
He stared at the message. Didn't reply.
Another text appeared.
**AYAKA:** *You're safer without distractions. I'll make sure it stays that way.*
His blood ran cold.
He needed to confront her. But as he headed toward her apartment, he noticed something: a shadowy figure tailing him from a distance. At first, he thought it might be Ayaka. But this figure was male, lean, wearing a long coat and a camera slung around his neck.
The man cornered him near the old campus greenhouse.
"You're Hiro Nakamura, right? I've been following the missing persons case. I think she's behind it. Ayaka Yukimura."
Hiro's eyes widened. "Who are you?"
"Private investigator. Hired by one of the missing girls' families. I've been tracing her movements. She's more dangerous than you think. Have you seen her room? There's a locked basement beneath it."
Before Hiro could ask more, the man suddenly paused — then his expression twisted in horror.
"Run. Now."
A soft, melodic hum filled the air. From the mist, Ayaka emerged in a white dress, barefoot, her crimson eyes glowing faintly.
"You shouldn't be here," she said to the man.
He pulled out pepper spray. A useless gesture. In a blink, Ayaka moved. Hiro barely caught the motion. A flash of silver — and the man crumpled, his throat a blossoming red flower.
Hiro screamed and ran.
He didn't stop until he reached the empty science hall. Gasping, sweating, blood on his hands that wasn't his. He collapsed against a desk.
And then, a voice behind him.
"You're hurt. Let me fix that."
Ayaka stood at the doorway, unbothered, her white dress now spotted with crimson. She walked slowly, deliberately, like a predator toying with prey.
"You killed him," Hiro whispered.
She knelt beside him. "He wanted to break us apart. I can't allow that."
"This isn't love, Ayaka. This is madness."
She smiled. It was heartbreakingly soft. "Then be mad with me. We can build our world far from here. You said you wanted a house by the sea, right? I found one. Secluded. Safe. Beautiful. For us."
He shook his head. "I never asked for this."
She leaned in, forehead against his, hands warm and stained. "You dreamed of it. I remembered. Even when you forgot. I've always remembered you, Hiro. Every word. Every touch. Every promise."
He trembled. Somewhere deep inside, part of him broke — and another part, darker, whispered: *She did this all for you.*
Sirens echoed in the distance. Campus security would arrive soon.
Ayaka stood. "I'll wait for you. When you're ready. You'll come to me."
Then she vanished into the night, like a ghost in cherry blossom fog.
That night, Hiro sat in his room, staring at the red ribbon he had tried to destroy. It had reappeared on his desk.
Wrapped around it was a key.
And a note:
*To our house by the sea. When you're ready to come home.*
He closed his eyes.
And wept.