The university library was a cathedral of hushed whispers and the frantic scratching of pens. Kazuto sat buried under a mountain of textbooks, his eyes bloodshot. Engineering was hard enough, but his elective "Ancient Japanese History" was proving to be a nightmare.
"The Heian Period," Kazuto groaned, face-planting into his notebook. "Why did I think this would be an easy credit? I can't remember the dates for the Fujiwara clan, let alone the social structure of the Imperial Court."
Asuna, sitting across from him, tilted her head. She was supposed to be "studying" her own Japanese Language books, but she spent most of her time fascinated by the way Kazuto’s mechanical pencil worked.
"You are troubled, Kazuto?" she asked, reaching out to slide his textbook toward her.
"It’s just... none of this makes sense," Kazuto sighed. "The book says the Emperor lived a life of absolute luxury and didn't care about the common people. It says he was a figurehead who spent all his time writing poetry while the country struggled."
Asuna’s eyes darkened. She looked at the paragraph in the textbook—a dry, clinical analysis of a man she had once seen weep until his robes were soaked.
"This book is lying," she said. Her voice wasn't her usual soft, curious tone. It was sharp, echoing with an authority that made the student at the next table look up in surprise.
"Asuna, it’s a peer-reviewed textbook—"
"He did not write poetry because he was idle," she continued, her finger tracing a line of text as if she were touching a scar. "He wrote because his heart was a furnace, and if he did not pour the fire into words, it would have consumed him. He cared for his people... but he hated a world that allowed such beauty to be snatched away by the heavens."
Kazuto stared at her. "You’re talking like you were there."
Asuna caught herself. She immediately softened her gaze, forcing a small, awkward laugh. "I... I have a very vivid imagination. And your history books are very dry. They forget that people in the past had blood in their veins, not just ink."
"Wait," Kazuto said, a thought striking him. "If you're so 'imaginative,' help me with this. The prompt says: Analyze the Emperor’s reaction to the loss of the Moon Princess. Most scholars say it was a metaphor for the fleeting nature of life."
Asuna looked out the library window. The sun was setting, and the first pale hint of the moon was appearing in the purple sky.
"It wasn't a metaphor," she whispered. "He felt like a man standing on the shore, watching the only ship he ever loved sail into a storm he couldn't stop. He didn't want 'lessons' on the fleeting nature of life. He wanted her back. He burned the Elixir on the mountain because immortality is a curse when you have to spend it alone."
A heavy silence fell between them. Kazuto felt that familiar prickle at the back of his neck—the deja vu that had been haunting him since the festival. He looked at Asuna, really looked at her, and saw the heavy burden of centuries in her eyes.
"Asuna," he said quietly. "Who are you, really?"
Before she could answer, his phone buzzed on the table. It was a news alert: Unusual Lunar Phenomenon: Scientists baffled as Moon appears 15% brighter tonight. Tidal warnings issued.
Asuna shivered. She pulled her cardigan tighter around her shoulders. "It is just history, Kazuto. Focus on your exam."
"I can't," he admitted, reaching across the table to cover her hand with his. "I keep seeing things. I keep feeling like I'm waiting for someone. Like I've been waiting for a thousand years."
Asuna didn't pull her hand away. Instead, she turned it over, interlacing her fingers with his. Her skin felt strangely cool, like fine porcelain kept in the shade.
"If you were that Emperor," she asked, her voice trembling, "and you found her again... but you knew that staying with her would eventually turn her to ash... would you still want to be with her?"
Kazuto didn't hesitate. "I'd rather have one more hour with her as a mortal than a thousand years wondering what if."
Asuna’s eyes filled with tears. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his. In the middle of a crowded university library, surrounded by the scent of old paper and the hum of laptops, time seemed to stop.
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"Then you are a fool, Kazuto Yuuki," she whispered, a sad smile playing on her lips. "A beautiful, stubborn fool. Just like he was."
ns216.73.216.141da2
and then Add to home screen.