Aiyumi and Ren grew up like two sides of the same sky — always close, yet never realizing how deeply they were tied.
Even as kids, they weren't the loud, dramatic type of friends.
They were comfortable silence.
Secret smiles.
Unsaid care.
Ren was the kind of boy who never said "I'll protect you" —
but always stood in front before the world could hurt her.
Aiyumi, fragile on the outside, carried a heart that was pure and observant.
She noticed everything — the way Ren would slow his bicycle just to match her steps,
the way he pretended not to see her tears but quietly placed a chocolate on her desk the next day.
They didn't call it love.
They didn't even understand the bond yet.
To them, it was just — "my person."
When others teased her in school, Ren didn't fight them,
but he would look at them once with those cold sharp eyes —
and the teasing would stop by itself.
Aiyumi never said thank you.
Ren never asked for it.
That was their rhythm.
"Why do you always walk behind me?" Aiyumi asked once, swinging her small legs on the stone bridge near the river.
Ren shrugged. "So I can see if you fall."
"What if you fall?"
"Then you'll stop… and wait."
She didn't reply.
But she smiled — the rarest kind, the smile she only gave him.
As they grew, small differences began to appear.
Aiyumi became quieter… more guarded.
Ren became stronger… more distant to others but softer only with her.
They didn't know it yet, but every step they took together was silently writing the first chapter of their destiny.
The karmic string between them was gentle now —
not burning, not pulling —
just waiting, patiently, for the day their souls would remember everything.