The airport hummed with that particular energy of big departures. Families ran towards their boarding gates, loudspeakers announced flights in every language, children cried or laughed.
Yuki clutched the small plant in her hands without really thinking about it — she had prepared it for Kenji, but the moment hadn't come yet to give it. For now, it was time to say goodbye.
Kenji stood before her, his eternal notebook sticking out of his pocket. He had that calm look she knew well, but today, there was something different — a small gleam, like discreet excitement.
Daichi, beside him, waved his arms while talking to Toru a mile a minute, his gestures so broad he nearly knocked over someone's bag. Their parents exchanged final words with hers.
"I'll send you messages," Kenji said to Yuki. Not "maybe" or "I'll try." Just "I'll send you." He tilted his head slightly to the side as he looked at her, as if to check she had heard correctly.
"Every day?" asked Yuki, eyebrows slightly raised, a shy smile at the corner of her lips.
"Every day." He nodded, once, twice — that small precise gesture he had when he was sure of himself.
Then he turned to Toru. "You too, I'll write to you."
Toru blinked, surprised. "Me?"
"You." Kenji shrugged. "So Yuki doesn't have to repeat everything. And to tell you stuff directly."
Toru found nothing to answer. She just nodded, cheeks slightly pink.
Daichi came to interrupt them, grabbing Kenji by the sleeve. "KENJI! WE HAVE TO GO!"
Kenji nodded. He looked at Yuki one last time, made that small discreet hand gesture — the one he used when he didn't dare be too visible — then followed his family towards security. Daichi, meanwhile, waved his arms until the last moment, almost jumping in place.
Toru came to stand next to Yuki, arms crossed. She watched the figures disappear, then turned to Yuki, raising an eyebrow. "Forty-five days."
"I can count." Yuki clutched the plant a little tighter against her, her fingers pressing the pot.
"I'm saying that because... well." Toru shrugged, a quick, nervous gesture. "It's going to be long."
Yuki didn't answer. She was looking at the spot where Kenji had disappeared, head slightly tilted. Her fingers tapped gently on the plant pot — an unconscious movement.
She bit her lower lip, a habit she had when she was thinking too much.
Toru placed a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, let's go home."
Yuki nodded, but her gaze stayed fixed on the doors for another long second before she let herself be led away.
The first few days were strange. Yuki hung around at home, glued to her phone, sitting cross-legged on her bed to look at the screen every five minutes. Nothing.
She sighed, slid a little lower against the wall, eyes on the ceiling, then started looking again.
The first message arrived that very evening. Her phone vibrated and she sat up so fast she nearly fell off the bed. She grabbed the device with both hands, heart pounding.
On the plane. Clouds everywhere. Daichi has his nose pressed to the window. He's breathing on the glass and drawing smileys. I think he's even more excited than me. (But I'm excited too, I just show it less.)
How are you? K.
Yuki smiled, her cheeks lifting, her eyes crinkling. She let herself fall back against her pillows, the phone above her face. 'He's trying to be funny.' It was rare, but when Kenji made an effort, it was even more touching.
She replied:
Enjoy the trip! And don't you breathe on the window too.
I'm fine. Toru's coming over tonight, we're watching a movie. She always picks weird stuff.
Kisses, Y.
Then, almost simultaneously, Toru received her own message.
Toru,
I'm writing to you too, as promised.
Daichi has already taken a hundred photos. I'm going to have to manage his memory storage.
How are you? K.
Toru read the message several times, a discreet smile forming on her lips.
She replied:
I'm fine. Tonight I'm watching a movie at Yuki's.
But I have an idea. Maybe. T.
That evening, Toru came to Yuki's with her e-reader under her arm and a box of chocolates. She entered without knocking, as always, and flopped onto the bed.
"Kenji wrote to me."
Yuki looked up from her phone. "Me too."
"He asked how I was."
"Me too."
Toru stretched out on the bed, arms spread. "He's thoughtful."
"He's Kenji."
They looked at each other, and something passed between them — a silent understanding. Kenji was there, even far away.
"So, that movie?" asked Yuki.
"Spirited Away."
"Another weird movie?"
"It's not weird, it's beautiful."
The movie absorbed them both. Yuki, curled up on the couch with her cushion, eyes wide on the screen. Toru, lying down, head on a cushion, fingers finally ceasing their tapping.
When Chihiro found her parents at the end, Yuki had tears in her eyes. She wiped them discreetly, but Toru had seen.
"Why are you crying?"
"I don't know. It's just... she changed so much. In such a short time."
Toru looked at her. "You're changing too."
"Not that much."
"Yes, you are. I see it."
Yuki felt warmth in her chest.
The next day, a new message from Kenji arrived for Yuki.
In Rome. The city is old. Really old. Daichi took a hundred photos of the Colosseum. I let him. He was too happy.
I touched the stones. They were warm. I wondered how many hands had touched them before me. Millions, maybe.
There are Alters everywhere. A guy making his groceries float. A woman whose hair changed color.
I'm thinking of you. Of your seed. I'll look for a place to plant it. A beautiful place. K.
Yuki replied, her heart light.
Meanwhile, Toru received hers:
Toru,
Rome is full of ancient things. Daichi wants to see everything, photograph everything. I follow him.
I thought of you in front of a warrior statue. It held a round shield. I thought yours could be better. More shapes.
Try changing the shape of your shields. Squares, triangles... See if you can. K.
Toru read the message several times. 'Change the shape.'
She raised her hand, palm up, and concentrated.
That night, Toru didn't sleep. Sitting cross-legged on her bed, she tried again and again. The force field appeared, round as always. She looked at it, concentrated, commanded it to be square.
Nothing.
Then, around 2 a.m., something changed. The field trembled, hesitated. For a fraction of a second, the edges flattened. An almost square shape floated in the air.
Then it disappeared.
Toru opened her eyes, breathless. Her heart beat fast.
'I... I almost did it.'
She grabbed her phone, wrote to Kenji:
I almost made a square. A second. But I almost did.
The reply came the next morning:
Good job. Keep going. I knew you could. K.
The days passed, marked by Kenji's messages — one for Yuki, one for Toru, sometimes one for both at the same time. He talked about Italy, the pasta, the monuments. He sent photos of Daichi goofing around.
One day, a message for Yuki:
I found a place for your seed. A garden near an old church. The soil looks rich. I'll plant it tomorrow.
I'll think of you. K.
The next day, a photo arrived: a small green stem coming out of the earth, with a caption: For you. It will grow.
Yuki cried a little, but they were sweet tears.
Meanwhile, Toru received her own messages.
Toru,
I saw an Italian hero today. Il Toro Nero. He makes blades with black energy. It made me think of you — not for the blades, but for the shape. He can mold anything.
Keep trying. K.
Toru tried harder. The squares became sharper, more stable. Then she tried triangles. Then rectangles.
Each progress, she sent to Kenji, and he always replied with something like: Good job. Keep going.
One afternoon, Toru arrived at Yuki's with news.
"I made a square."
Yuki looked up from her notebook. "What?"
Toru extended her hand, concentrated. A force field appeared — not quite square, the angles still a bit rounded, but clearly more angular than her usual rounds. "It lasts two seconds. But it's a square."
Yuki jumped up, the notebook falling to the ground without her noticing. She approached, eyes wide. "That's incredible!"
"Kenji was right." Toru held the field for a few seconds, then released it, breathless but beaming. "I can change the shape. I can REALLY."
She jumped in place, fists clenched, a big smile on her lips. Yuki laughed and grabbed her by the shoulders.
"You're so strong, Toru!"
"Kenji gave me the idea."
"But you're the one who did it."
Toru smiled — a real smile, big and bright.
Meanwhile, Yuki continued her own experiments in the garden. Her special corner had grown well — the small wall of trees she had created was still there, solid.
Around it, she had grown other plants: flowers, shrubs...
Every day, she sat cross-legged before the earth, a seed in her hand, and concentrated. She felt the energy rise in her, warm and alive, spread through her fingers, reach the seed. And the seed responded.
She had learned to control the direction of growth. To make shapes — circles of stems, squares of leaves.
Toru often came to watch her, sitting on the bench near the cherry tree. "You're focused, there."
"Yes."
"It shows. You don't even move your eyes."
Yuki smiled without answering.
One day, she managed to grow a sunflower in 20 seconds — a real one, with a tall stem and a yellow flower. When she opened her eyes, Toru was standing beside her, mouth agape.
"You did that in..."
"20 seconds."
"That's not possible."
"Yes, it is." Yuki touched the flower with her fingertips. "I'm improving."
Toru shook her head, incredulous. "You keep this up, soon you'll be making entire forests emerge in seconds."
Yuki laughed. "Not yet. But someday."
She didn't really think about it. It was just an ambitious goal. What mattered were her daily progress.
One evening, a message from Kenji arrived for both at the same time.
Yuki, Toru,
I met Italian heroes today. Il Toro Nero and Il Cavaliere. They asked me questions about my Alter.
I thought of you. Of what you could become.
Keep training. I'm proud of you. K.
Yuki read the message, her heart warm. Toru read hers, eyes shining.
The next day, when Toru came to Yuki's, they didn't talk much. They sat in the garden, under the cherry tree, and watched Yuki's plants grow, the birds fly.
Sometimes, Toru created a small force field — a square, a triangle — and Yuki grew a flower in response. A silent game.
"He's far away," said Toru.
"Yes."
"But he's here."
Yuki smiled. "Yes. He's here."
On the thirty-fifth day, Kenji sent a message to Toru:
Toru,
I thought of something. If you can change the shape, maybe you can change the texture? Make some parts denser, others lighter? Like armor, not just a wall. Or maybe layer multiple shields?
Try it. And tell me. K.
Toru read the message, eyebrows furrowed. "Texture? Layering?"
She showed the message to Yuki.
Yuki shrugged. "He has weird ideas."
"His weird ideas usually work."
She tried. For hours, in her room, then in Yuki's garden. She sweated, her hands trembled, she swore under her breath.
Yuki sat on the bench, watching. "Keep going," she said sometimes.
"I'm trying."
"Keep going."
On the thirty-seventh day, Toru succeeded with textures.
She was in her room, alone, when she raised her hand and created a force field. A rectangle. And inside, she felt something different — the middle was denser, the edges lighter.
She held the field for a few seconds, heart pounding. Then she ran to Yuki's.
"I DID IT!"
Yuki saw her arrive, breathless, eyes shining. "What?"
"The texture!" Toru extended her hands, and a force field appeared — a rectangle, with thicker parts, others thinner. "Look!"
Yuki jumped up, eyes wide. "That's incredible!"
"Kenji was right!" Toru jumped in place, fists clenched. "I can do it!"
Yuki laughed and grabbed her by the shoulders. They did a little impromptu jig in the garden.
The day before the return, Kenji sent a final message.
Yuki, Toru,
Tomorrow, we come home. I'm tired, but happy. Can't wait to see you. But we'll see each other the day after tomorrow — I need to rest. The trip was long.
I'm thinking of you. K.
Yuki replied:
Get some rest. We'll be there the day after tomorrow.
Good night.
Toru replied:
Okay. Rest.
And thank you. For the messages. For the ideas. T.
That night, Yuki couldn't sleep. She stared at the ceiling, thinking back over everything. Kenji's messages, the movies with Toru, the training. The walls, the forests, the shapes.
She had changed. She could feel it.
On the other side of the city, Toru was also awake. She looked out the window, at the moon shining over Fukuoka. She thought of her shields — squares, triangles, rectangles, textures. Of Kenji, coming home.
Her phone vibrated. Yuki:
Toru, are you awake?
Yes.
Me too. Can't sleep.
Same.
Tomorrow, we wait for him. The day after, we see him.
Yes.
It's going to be good.
Yes.
Toru smiled in the dark.
The next day, Yuki woke up late. She looked at her phone — a message from Kenji had arrived earlier:
Arrived. Tired but happy. Daichi is already asleep. I'm going to sleep too.
See you tomorrow.
She replied simply. Then she went down to the garden. The plant for Kenji was there, on the patio table, beautiful in its decorated pot.
Toru arrived in the afternoon, and they stayed together until evening. They didn't talk much. Sometimes, Toru created a force field — a perfect square, with the center denser. Yuki grew a flower in response.
A silent game. Their way of waiting.
When evening came, Toru went home. Before leaving, she turned around.
"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow."
On the big day, Yuki woke up before dawn.
She took the plant, held it against her for a second. Then she got up.
In the kitchen, her mother was preparing breakfast. "Early, sweetheart."
"I can't sleep."
Her mother smiled. "I know."
Yuki sat at the table, the plant in front of her. Her fingers stroked the leaves.
Her phone vibrated. Toru:
I'm awake too.
See you at your place in two hours?
Yes.
She put down the phone and looked out the window.
The sun was beginning to rise over Fukuoka.
Kenji was home.
In a few hours, she would see him.
She smiled.
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The chapter below is 2441 words without this little message.
This is now to inform you that from chapter 15 onwards there will only be three chapters per week. unless I'm in a good mood and decide to publish more.
You have to earn the other 3 through the following objectives:
1st at 100 power stones or 3 reviews
2nd at 300 power stones or 6 reviews
3rd at 500 power stones or 10 reviews