Where was she?
The ceiling above her was too bright.
The sheets smelled like hospital detergent, but everything felt… off.
The last thing she remembered was pain. Sharp, suffocating pain.
She had died — she was sure of it.
But now—
There was warmth.
A breeze crept in through the slightly open window. Birds chirped distantly. And beside her bed, a small calendar hung crookedly on the wall.
Her gaze fell on the date.
[June 01, 20XX]
Her breath caught.
"That… can't be right."
She blinked, leaned closer.
Ten years ago.
Her fingers trembled as she touched her face — soft, unscarred.
Her hands — smooth. No signs of age, no battle-worn damage.
"I'm… eighteen again."
Suddenly, a soft strumming sound began to fill the silence.
A guitar.
Her body froze.
Then a voice followed. Gentle. Barely above a whisper.
🎵
"I don't know when I started to fall…"
"Your laugh, your light, I remember it all…"
"But maybe love just isn't enough to save…"
"…someone already digging their grave."
🎵
Her breath caught in her throat.
No. No way.
She turned toward the curtain. The music was coming from just behind it — from a boy sitting in the corner, strumming, unaware of her presence.
Messy hair. Faded school uniform. Familiar.
Ami's eyes widened.
"That's…"
The guitar gently continued:
🎵
"I wrote your name on a rainy sky…"
"Wished you'd love me, never knew why…"
"But I was too late, and you were too bright…"
"And now all I have is the song at night."
🎵
"Dio?!" she blurted without thinking.
The music cut off with a jarring string scrape.
Footsteps. Then the curtain shifted.
A boy peeked through, surprised and caught off guard.
"Uh… yeah? That's me. But…"
"How do you know my name?"
Ami's eyes widened in panic.
Idiot. He doesn't know you. Not yet.
She quickly looked away, forcing a tight laugh.
"The nurse said it. I think."
He blinked. Then — a little smile tugged at his lips.
"Ah… right."
"Well…" — he scratched the back of his neck —
"Don't tell anyone, girl…"
"Me singing like that? Kinda embarrassing."
Ami stared.
The way he called her girl so casually.
The way his voice dipped just slightly, almost shy.
It was so him.
She felt something in her chest squeeze tight.
"I won't," she whispered. "I promise."
Dio nodded, then slowly let the curtain fall back in place.
Silence returned.
But it was heavier now.
Ami looked back at the calendar.
Ten years ago.
A new life. A second chance.
But some things were still the same.
"He's still too kind."
"Still too soft for a world like mine."
She clutched the blanket.
"This time… I'll ignore him."
Even if it tears me apart.