Chapter 6: Ghost Notes

Ren stared at the empty friend list for the third time that night. HanaLune was offline. She hadn’t responded to his messages. He knew why.

AyaneSoul.

He cursed under his breath and leaned back from his desk, letting his head thud softly against the chair. He hadn’t meant for that to happen. He hadn’t even known Ayane still had him added.

She’d always been the loud one. Passionate, dramatic. Their friendship had blurred into something more back then—but they burned out quickly. Still, she knew how to push buttons. And tonight, she pushed the wrong ones.

Ren hovered over Miyu’s username, his fingers itching to type something. Anything.

But instead, he logged out.

Miyu sat at her kitchen table, guitar untouched beside her, staring at her phone. The text from Ren—“Can we talk?”—sat unread.

She hadn’t deleted it. That was something, right?

A knock on her door pulled her from her spiral.

It was Rika.

“I brought wine,” she said, holding up a bottle. “And gossip.”

Miyu gave her a skeptical look, but stepped aside. “This about the game?”

“Half,” Rika said, flopping onto her couch. “Okay, spill. What happened with your mysterious knight? You logged out of our group chat like someone unplugged your soul.”

Miyu sat slowly, unsure whether she wanted to laugh or cry. “There was... someone else. An old flame, I think. She called him out in front of me. It just—hurt.”

Rika was quiet for a moment, then said, “You like him.”

Miyu nodded. “I didn’t mean to. But it’s like... when I’m with him, I can breathe.”

Rika tilted her head. “Then talk to him. Don’t let someone else’s ghost get in the way of something real.”

That same night, Ren joined a low-level dungeon alone. Just to think. To distract himself.

Halfway through, a whisper pinged.

HanaLune: You still awake?

His heart stuttered.

OblivionHeart: Yeah. Always.

HanaLune: Meet me at Moonlight Grove?

He didn’t reply. He just went.

When he arrived, she was already there. Avatar still. No idle animations. Just waiting.

“Sorry,” she typed.

Ren hesitated, then responded: “You don’t owe me that.”

“I do. I disappeared.”

“I should’ve said something sooner. Ayane... she’s not—she was. A long time ago. I didn’t even know she still had me added.”

Miyu’s avatar stepped closer. “It’s not that she was there. It’s that she knew that place. That song. You brought her there once too, didn’t you?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

Then: “Yeah. I did. Years ago. But it didn’t mean the same. I didn’t feel the same.”

Miyu stood silent. Then she typed: “And now?”

“I brought you there because it’s the only place in this game that feels honest.”

More silence.

Then:

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

The grove swayed with pixelated wind. Digital cherry blossoms fluttered around them. Their avatars sat beside each other, quiet in a way only people who understand each other can be.

And for the first time since Ayane’s arrival, the music felt like it belonged to them again.