SHINTA:

Standing here now, I feel like my soul has been shattered and then forged anew into something powerful and terrifying. My broken bones are healing themselves, my torn flesh knitting back together right before my eyes. Vengeance burns through my veins like fire, so intense it's breaking apart the very concrete beneath my feet. My memories flood back all at once, overwhelming me as I struggle to make sense of everything that's happened.

Some Hours Ago:

My jaw hung open as I stared at the monstrosity before me. My heart hammered against my ribs, my hands trembling uncontrollably. Every instinct screamed at me to run, yet my legs refused to move—frozen to the pavement as though cemented in place. The cloud that loomed before us transcended mere size, commanding the sky like some forgotten deity awakened from slumber.

A single raindrop splashed against my knuckle, its chill shooting up my arm. Then, as if the heavens split open, the downpour crashed down on us like icy marbles, each one a tiny shock against my exposed skin. The air filled with the deafening sound of water hammering against concrete, distant thunder rolling across the sky like massive stones tumbling down a mountain.

Volnaria's street gutters gurgled and choked. Water surged between buildings, slowly swallowing the sidewalk despite the city's advanced drainage system. Soon enough, the water rose past my ankles.

Then I felt it, a gentle touch across my face. It was soft, but the terror of what unfolded before me had dulled my senses until they all surged back at once, causing me to jump in my place, literally. I looked over to find Aya beside me, her warm eyes filled with concern despite her own visible fear. Her lips quivered, raindrops streaming down her delicate cheeks like tears. Her shoulders hunched forward against the downpour, making her seem smaller, more vulnerable, yet somehow braver than anyone else on the street.

While I'd been paralyzed by terror, my sweet, courageous girlfriend was fighting through her own fear to reach me. I'm supposed to be protecting her, yet there I was, trembling like a child while she gathered the courage to act.

"I... I am so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she said, her voice barely audible above the rain. "It's just that..." Her voice cracked, her eyes reflecting nothing but tenderness.

I hugged her before she could finish, feeling her tense body gradually soften against mine as she let out a shaky breath against my shoulder, her fingers gently clutching the back of my shirt like she always did when she needed reassurance but was too selfless to ask for it.

"I know, love, I'm the one that should be apologizing," I whispered into her hair. "I was lost in my thoughts again, wasn't I?"

I squeezed her shoulders. "I don't know what's happening, but we should hurry and find a place to hide away from the water. As much as I hate to say it, I think the water level will only get higher, and the rain will only get more intense." My voice cracked with guilt as I scanned the chaos around us.

Aya nodded, her warm amber eyes darting between the rising water and the darkening sky. She bit her lower lip, a habit I'd come to adore whenever she was trying to be brave.

I grabbed her hand, gently but firmly, so as not to lose her as we joined crowds of people running in every direction. Her fingers intertwined with mine, squeezing back with surprising strength—that quiet reassurance she always managed to give, even when frightened herself.

Then I stopped and looked at Aya.

"Oh... and thank you," I murmured, a brief smile touching my lips before dissolving under the weight of our situation.

"For what?" she asked, confusion momentarily replacing fear in her expression.

"For finding me. For always finding me when I get lost in here," I tapped my temple lightly.

I turned away, tugging her forward before she could respond, though I caught the slight widening of her eyes—surprise mixed with something deeper.

For a fleeting moment, as I pulled her through the crowd, I felt a strange tingling sensation crawl up my arm from where our hands connected. The rain around us seemed to slow, droplets hanging suspended for a heartbeat before resuming their descent. I blinked, disoriented, but the sensation vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving me wondering if I'd imagined it.

I could feel Aya's hand shivering in mine. The rising water, the heavy pouring rain, and to top it off, the already frigid January air had turned her skin a bluish tone, her cherry-red nose standing in stark contrast.

Despite her visible trembling, she straightened her posture when she caught my eye, forcing the corners of her mouth into what might have passed for a reassuring smile if not for the way her teeth clenched to keep from chattering. She'd always been like this, enduring discomfort in silence, never wanting to be a burden. That quiet strength about her both mystified and captivated me—how someone so gentle could be so unbreakable.

"Stay close," I murmured, gently guiding her through the crowd. "I won't let go."

"You never do," she whispered back with a fragile smile.

As we pushed through the panicked crowd, my mind suddenly flooded with old memories of Aya. I remembered the first time I had seen her in middle school. She moved through the hallways with quiet grace, eyes downcast yet somehow drawing everyone into her orbit with her genuine warmth. Meanwhile, I was a loner throughout my childhood and early teen years. I was fit and, if I do say so myself, good-looking, with long black hair tied in a ponytail. I'd even consider myself charming; my only flaw was my inability to socialize with others. Whenever I was around someone, I would get uncomfortable and awkward, so I distanced myself from most people.

I was fine being alone, really. I tried not to entertain fantasies where I miraculously found myself in a relationship. Yet year after year, the universe played its cruel joke, placing me in at least one class together with the girl I had a crush on—close enough to observe but worlds apart in social standing. My heart would skip whenever she'd tuck a strand of hair behind her ear during exams or when her voice, soft yet confident, answered a teacher's question. Yet my words died in my throat whenever opportunity arose.

That rainy evening in high school changed everything. The classroom clock had ticked well past six when I finally finished my cleanup duties. Stepping into the downpour, my sneakers splashed through puddles reflecting the streetlights above. That's when I saw her—Aya, sitting on the sidewalk ahead, her knees drawn to her chest, uniform clinging to her quivering frame. Rain poured over her bowed head, running down her face as she stared blankly into the distance. Unrecognizable without her usual composure, vulnerable in a way I'd never imagined possible.