Chapter 4: Rain Delay

It rained the next evening. The kind of rain that wasn’t loud or violent, but soft—persistent—like the sky had something to confess.

Miyu sat curled beside her bedroom window, guitar across her lap. She played quietly, letting her fingers wander across the strings. Not a song. Just notes. Thoughtful and slow. The kind of sound you play when the silence starts to get heavy.

Her mind drifted to the night before. The café. Ren. How he had pulled out her chair like it was second nature. The way he didn’t force conversation. The way their silences felt intentional, not empty.

Her phone buzzed on the table. She leaned over and read the message.

OblivionHeart: Online later? No pressure.

She didn’t answer right away. She set her guitar aside, stood, and walked into the kitchen. The simple ritual of making dinner—rice in the cooker, miso warming, eggs cracked for tamagoyaki—helped clear her head. She plated everything neatly, even though she was eating alone.

Nine years with Haruki had made habits of things like that. The flashbacks came like echoes.

“Missed the last train. Mind if I stay over?”

She had said yes. Every time. Made tea. Gave him her old college hoodie. Watched him fall asleep on her couch while she sat up rereading the same chapter in her favorite novel.

Back then, she thought love was measured by how much you gave, not how much was returned.

Later that night, with the dishes drying and rain still tapping at the windows, she logged in.

HanaLune spawned beside OblivionHeart in the Moonlight Grove.

“Hey,” she typed.

“Hey,” he replied. Then, “Wanna just hang out at the grove? No quests. No grind.”

She smiled, fingers warming on the keyboard. “Sounds perfect.”

Their avatars strolled side by side, luminous mushrooms lighting the forest paths. HanaLune played her in-game lute—an idle animation that Ren never interrupted. He just watched. Listened.

“You always liked music?” he asked.

She paused before typing. “Since I was six. My dad taught me guitar. He used to play when I couldn’t sleep. I’d sit with a book while he strummed.”

Ren responded: “You sound like a Studio Ghibli character.”

She laughed. “Better than being the tragic love interest.”

They found a quiet pond and sat down beside it. Water lilies floated gently across its surface.

“What about you?” she asked.

Ren hesitated, but then typed: “Music was how I survived middle school. Hated everything else. Headphones on, world off.”

Miyu sent a shy emoji, followed by: “You’re good at listening.”

There was a pause.

“Only when it matters,” he answered.

She didn’t type anything for a while. When her message arrived, it was different.

“I stayed with someone for nine years who didn’t see me. I think... I forgot what it felt like to be seen.”

Ren stared at the screen. The cursor blinked. Once. Twice.

Then:

“I see you.”

And for a moment, their characters didn’t move.

Just a bard and a knight by a pond in a digital world that suddenly felt more real than the one outside.

Outside, the rain continued.

But inside the game, everything was still.

Everything was listening.