"Why do I have to go with you?" Rinoa asked, her voice icy, yet beneath that cool exterior, a rapid heartbeat thrummed like a trapped bird in her chest.
"Because you want to go to Gamma," Fitran replied calmly, his gaze unwavering as it locked onto Rinoa's piercing eyes, acutely aware of the mounting pressure simmering between them.
He continued, "But before that, you need to know more about the Stones." Rinoa furrowed her brow, a flicker of doubt igniting as she pondered the enigmatic word "Stones."
After a moment of silence, her breath became a hesitant whisper, thoughts swirling chaotically like leaves caught in a gust of wind. The Stones—an archaeological site shrouded in mystery, the only remnant of a once-mighty megalithic civilization. Legends whispered of artifacts hidden there, relics that could unravel the tangled threads of her theories about the origins of Gamma, stirring within her a tumultuous mix of curiosity and trepidation.
"I want a condition," she finally declared, her voice taking on an assertive edge, a desperate attempt to grasp control of the tension that surged like electricity in the air around them.
"Condition?" Fitran raised an eyebrow, his enigmatic smile lingering, cloaked in mystery as the tension continued to escalate, thickening the atmosphere between them.
"We are strangers. Though we cross paths often, you have only now unveiled your true self to me. Can I really trust you?" Rinoa's piercing gaze locked onto Fitran's face, her eyes searching for every subtle flicker of emotion that might betray his intentions. Her heart raced rapidly, an anxious wave crashing over her like a tempest, as she awaited his response.
Fitran's lips curled into a slight, enigmatic smile, but there was an undeniable glint of challenge in his eyes. "The question remains the same. Can I trust you?" He closed the distance between them, stepping a fraction closer, amplifying the charged atmosphere surrounding them.
"Especially since you... have already deceived me before we even got started," she shot back, her tone edged with accusation. A sharp twinge of pain gripped Rinoa's heart, momentarily rendering her speechless as a blush crept across her cheeks, the stark realization that the echoes of their past still haunted Fitran's memory dawning upon her.
Fitran leaned in ever closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief, igniting a warmth that radiated against Rinoa's skin like fire. "If I could touch you, perhaps I would answer all your questions truthfully." She felt it—a deep resonance of her own heartbeat, thrumming loudly in her ears, matching the intensity of the moment.
Rinoa let out a bittersweet laugh, attempting to cloak her anxiety in a façade of confidence, even as a noticeable tremor danced through her fingertips. She accepted the challenge that lay before them—heart pounding, yet determined to hold her ground.
"Alright. If that's what you want... feel free to undo my magic and touch as you wish." Rinoa declared, her voice dripping with a teasing bravado that belied the turmoil swirling within her. A sense of unease lingered in the air, unnoticed by Fitran.
"I'll take that as an invitation," Fitran responded, his voice smooth, as he edged closer. Each deliberate stride heightened the charged atmosphere, turning their exchange into a perilous game—a dance of two souls drawn together yet shackled by the weight of their uncertainty.
Whoosh!
The wind swept around them, propelling Rinoa forward, giving her the sensation of floating at the precipice of an emotional abyss. She tugged at her tie nervously, her heart pounding as their faces inched nearer. Their breaths intertwined, sparking electricity that crackled in the space between them. Every fiber of her being vibrated with anticipation, the thrill of his proximity igniting a fire deep within her. She fought to keep her voice steady, forcing sharpness into her tone amidst a storm of conflicting emotions.
"So close... can you see it?" Rinoa whispered, her voice enchanting yet tinged with the delicate tension that hung palpably in the air.
"Certainly not." Fitran chuckled dryly, but the flicker of intrigue in his eyes betrayed the eagerness that simmered beneath the surface.
"So?"
"I understand." Rinoa observed the flicker of uncertainty dancing across Fitran's face, causing her heart to race like a thunderous drum in her chest.
"Good." Without a moment's hesitation, Rinoa brusquely pushed him away, the chilling touch of his skin lingering in the air as their hands separated; it felt as if an emotional bridge had crumbled into dust between them.
Fitran inwardly grumbled, a tempest of frustration brewing within him. He was accustomed to commanding every situation, yet in Rinoa's captivating presence, he felt as if he were lost in an intricate maze of uncertainty. His muscles tensed with unspent energy, each passing second stretching into a suffocating eternity. Was this... M? Did he genuinely relish Rinoa's game of dominance, or was he merely tangled in the web of his own confusion?
"Fitran!" Rinoa's voice sliced through his reverie like a sharp blade, jolting him back to the present moment.
"Hehe, sorry." He managed a smile, though a flicker of nervousness danced in his eyes, as if he had just been uncovered in a hidden misdeed.
"Now, seriously. Three questions." Rinoa locked her gaze onto him with an intensity that burned, her eyes like smoldering embers, making him feel ensnared under the weight of her penetrating stare.
"Alright. Go ahead."
"First, why do you want me to join?"
"Because I need you. Your abilities are remarkable. Your air magic soars far above that of anyone from the Alfrenzo family."
"Second question. Isn't it true that magic can't be used in the Stones area? How will I survive without my magic?"
"You won't be fighting inside the Stones," he reassured her, his tone steady yet gentle. "The area we're heading to is still outside its boundaries."
"I'll explain on the way."
"Third question..." Rinoa's fiery gaze pierced through him, her eyes shimmering with a mix of anxiety and hope, as if she stood on the precipice of a great unknown. "What do you want from me?"
"You," Fitran replied instinctively, his voice unwavering, though his heart raced as if it might escape at any moment. Rinoa huffed, her cheeks flushed with a vibrant hue, like embers ready to ignite. Instead of lashing out, she turned away, her inner turmoil wrestling with the emotions that danced just beneath the surface. A flicker of suspicion ignited in Fitran's mind—this is tsundere.
"Ahem." Fitran cleared his throat, attempting to project seriousness while his voice quivered slightly, betraying the unspoken tension lingering between them.
Rinoa seemed uncomfortable, her body coiling like a spring, poised for action. Damn, Fitran realized—Rinoa was currently in dere-dere mode, and this shift in her demeanor created a palpable heaviness around them.
(What type of tsundere is she?) Fitran pondered, his thoughts swirling. (An ojou, perhaps? Proud and aristocratic, difficult to approach... yet when cornered, her sweetness emerges, revealing the uncertainty hidden beneath her polished exterior.)
Fitran nodded to himself, a small smile creeping onto his face, yet a shroud of nervousness still cloaked his chest. Each breath felt deeper, almost as if he could sense the very vibrations hanging in the charged air around them.
"Die, you!!" Rinoa suddenly yelled, her voice a sharp clash against the somber atmosphere, striking Fitran's face with an unexpected force.
Whoosh!
A gale swept over Fitran, striking his face with eager resolve, sweeping away all his apprehensions and hurling his body backward. His head collided with the ceiling, producing a dull thud that sent a wave of dizziness crashing over him, while a strange warmth enveloped the part of his face that had met the wind's wrath.
Fortunately, the ceiling was merely plywood. He shuddered to think—if it had been metal, might his head have already launched into another dimension? The corners of Rinoa's mouth lifted slightly, a twitch of mirth overshadowed by the seething anger in her glare, as if her eyes harbored an unspoken threat. Fitran's heart raced wildly, each beat loud enough to drown out the echoes of her scream, while the tension coiled tightly in the muscles of his neck. A warm sensation spread across his skin, amplifying the pressing anxiety that enveloped him like a suffocating shroud. The entire room seemed to hold its breath, silently observing the growing intensity.
For a brief moment, Fitran's gaze lingered on Rinoa's face, a flood of sorrow unexpectedly filling his heart...
Suddenly, Rinoa collapsed to her knees, a delicate figure succumbing to an unseen weight. A faint, otherworldly light shimmered in her eyes—neither the vibrant glow of mana nor the soothing essence of aether, but rather a crack in the very fabric of existence itself. One by one, fragments of memories erupted from within her like a cascade of shooting stars, shattering into metaphysical dust that scattered through the air, each particle whispering untold stories.
And when Fitran finally reached out, gently touching her shoulder—
"Who... are you?" Rinoa's voice emerged softly, tremulous and cutting through the heavy stillness like a fleeting breeze.
Fitran was taken aback. The sound was so foreign, like an echo from a distant world, unlike any he had ever known. It was flat and devoid of the warmth and familiarity he cherished in Rinoa.
"Don't you remember who I am?" he implored, his voice tinged with desperation as his hope began to fade.
Rinoa looked up at Fitran with wide eyes, innocent and curious, reminiscent of a child discovering something wondrous for the first time. "Have... we ever talked?" she asked, her query filled with a haunting innocence.
The atmosphere fell into a heavy silence for a moment, as if time itself had come to a standstill in the midst of their tense stillness. The air was thick with unspoken words and emotions, suffocating yet palpable.
Fitran took a deep breath, feeling an unsettling fear creeping inside his chest — not the fear of physical threats, but rather the haunting ache of a profound sense of loss that gnawed at his heart.
Cautiously, he reached out, his fingers brushing against Rinoa's cheek, tracing the contours of her soft skin with a tenderness born of longing. He hoped that through this gentle contact, he might awaken the dormant memories that lay hidden within her.
"Do you remember anything about Gamma?" he asked, his voice quivering with barely contained emotion.
Rinoa shook her head slowly, her movement imbued with a weighty sorrow, signifying a void that loomed ominously in her thoughts.
"Stones?"
Rinoa tilted her head to the side, her brow furrowing in confusion, as if the name was a wisp of mist that eluded her grasp.
"The Atlantis School of Magic? The Neo-Gamma experiments?"
Rinoa stared blankly into the distance, her eyes clouded with a fog of forgotten memories, betraying the absence of recognition that once thrived within them.
"I... only remember... the sound of the wind. And... someone laughing loudly before their head got stuck in the ceiling." Her words floated into the air, tinged with an unmistakable sadness, as if each syllable carried the weight of lost joy.
Fitran sighed deeply, bitterness flooding his heart as he absorbed her fragmented recollections. "That was me." The confession slipped from his lips, and in that moment, he felt the jagged edges of loss tear deeper into his soul.
In the depths of his mind, he pondered the harsh truth: the hard-won victory over Malakothies had come at an unbearable cost. His Voidwright may have emerged triumphant, yet his very human spirit lay shattered, scattered in the shadows of despair.
Rinoa now stood as a mere shadow of her former self, untouched by the tumultuous fate that had befallen the Avatar of Harmony. Even the most fleeting moments seemed to stretch on forever—before she could even grasp the intricacies of love, the sting of betrayal, and the finality of death.
"From now on..." Fitran whispered, his voice draped in tenderness and laced with unwavering hope.
"...I will make you fall in love again, from the very beginning."
The evening breeze caressed their faces, gently entwining with their breath as if it were a willing participant in the promise exchanged between their souls.
Time unfurled its wings, and gradually, Rinoa felt the fragments of her identity drifting back to her. Her memories, like stars returning to the night sky, converged on one pivotal moment—the first time she set foot into the vibrant halls of Atlantis High School.