Later that night, after the crowd had gone and the laughter had faded into memory, Ren walked beside Celia through the winding paths behind the town. Past the old train yard. Past the cedar trees swaying gently in the wind.
"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice hushed under the sky's growing darkness.
"You'll see."
They climbed a small ridge just past a barely used hiking trail, their shoes crunching softly against the dirt. At the top, Ren pushed aside a low branch and stepped into a clearing. The grass was wild, the trees surrounding it just enough to muffle the outside world. But above—above was open sky. Stars spilled out in every direction. Unfiltered, endless.
Celia let out a breath. "Whoa."
Celia looked down at him, then laid beside him in the grass, close enough for their arms to touch.
"You always keep the good stuff to yourself," she teased.
"Not always," he said, voice softer now.
They lay in silence for a while, letting the night speak for them. Crickets chirped in the underbrush. A soft breeze rustled the treetops above. The stars flickered high in the heavens—distant, cold, but oddly comforting.
Celia shifted beside him, her arm brushing his just enough to be felt. Her gaze was still locked on the sky when she spoke.
"So you actually remembered," she murmured, her voice unusually soft.
Ren turned his head slightly, eyes on her profile. "Remembered what?"
She didn't look at him. Just smiled faintly. "What I said at the amusement park. About wanting to lie under the stars and forget the world for a while."
Ren smirked, mock offense in his tone. "What, you thought I wasn't paying attention?"
"I mean…" she tilted her head, her bangs falling gently over her eyes. "You're you. Kind of broody. Not exactly known for listening."
He let out a quiet laugh. "Well, I remember the important stuff. Like sparkly pirate rides and glittery custom t-shirts."
Her face turned toward him with a light glare, her cheeks already pink. "Shut up. That was—just a joke, okay? I didn't actually make the shirt."
"Yet."
She rolled her eyes and looked away, but didn't scoot an inch farther. "You're lucky this night is nice, or I'd slap you."
They both laughed, and the sound drifted off into a warm, gentle quiet. The Okutama forest surrounded them, the air cool and crisp, cicadas humming softly in the background. Then, unexpectedly, Celia exhaled—deep and heavy—like she was letting go of a layer of her usual sparkle.
Celia moved closer to Ren, the firelight painting soft golds along her jaw. Her expression remained calm, but not distant—tuned to his pain like a string humming the same note.
She reached out slowly, resting a hand just above his on the cool earth.
"You're not supposed to know how to feel about it, Ren," she said gently. "That's… what makes you human."
Ren didn't respond. His eyes stayed locked on the flickering fire, its glow like molten glass in the dark. His jaw tensed, then relaxed—then tensed again. The silence didn't need to be filled, but Celia's presence softened its edges.
"I don't want to become someone who doesn't care," he murmured. "But the more we fight, the easier it gets to just… swing without thinking."
Celia nodded once. "That's the danger, isn't it? When survival starts to feel like instinct instead of choice."
His voice faltered. "I wonder if I'm just becoming something else. Someone else."
Celia was quiet for a beat.
Then she took a breath.
"My planet—where I'm from, Hoshikawa—it's always dark there," she began, her voice low, almost reverent. "Thick clouds, endless rain. You might think it'd be depressing, but it's… strangely beautiful. Everything glows. The streets reflect light like mirrors. The forests shimmer at night."
Her eyes drifted upward, as if remembering it.
"It's stuck in time though. Like, really. It is like Japan but stuck in past I guess, with advanced tech layered on top. Floating palaces. High tech war machines. Traditions etched into the bones of the people. And they cling to those customs so tightly, it chokes you. Rules about behavior. Honor. Gender roles. Bloodlines. Everyone has a place, and you're not allowed to step out of it."
Ren was silent, watching her closely now.
"My father—the Emperor—he's cold. Always has been. I was born into the ruling family, yeah, but I was just another piece on a board to him. He raised me to be seen, not heard. A symbol, not a person."
Celia paused. Her voice grew gentler.
"But my mom… she was different. She was bright. Gentle. She wanted to be a doctor. She wanted to help people, heal them, touch their lives in a way that mattered. But the Empire didn't allow women to practice medicine openly, especially not nobles. She tried anyway—did what she could in secret. Taught me how to stitch wounds, read anatomy books with me in hidden corners of the palace. She told me that kindness is stronger than power, always."
Ren listened, still, breath held.
"She died when I was ten," Celia said quietly. "Some sickness they wouldn't even name. Said it was shameful for the royal family to admit weakness. They didn't even let her leave the palace to get help. Just… let her fade away. Alone. And I could only watch."
Her hands clenched the grass, voice trembling just a little. "Before she died, she made me promise something. That if I ever had the chance to help people—truly help them—I wouldn't waste it. That I'd never let anyone tell me I couldn't do good just because of who I was."
Ren swallowed, heart heavy in his chest.
"So I tried," Celia went on. "I pushed back against the traditions. Against my father. Against everything. But you can't break centuries of law alone. Not without consequences. They wanted to marry me off to a general, silence me, make me a tool. That's when I found out about POND. Or rather… they found me."
Her gaze flicked to Ren's. "They offered me a deal. Sanctuary, in exchange for service. If I joined their cause—hunted monsters, protected people—I'd be free. Safe from the Empire. Free to live the way I chose. I didn't even hesitate."
The wind stirred her hair gently.
"That's why I fight. Not just because I can, but because she couldn't. Because I made her a promise, and it's the only thing I have left of her."
Ren looked at her—really looked. The firelight made her eyes gleam like twin stars through glass. Her words settled into him like rain soaking through clothes: quiet at first, then chilling with weight.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Celia beat him to it.
"And you…" she said softly, "you're not a monster for killing them, Ren. You're showing them mercy."
He blinked. "Mercy?"
She nodded, voice firmer now. "You saw what happened to Kaito. What they turn into—it's not life. It's pain. Hunger. Rage. Their minds are gone, trapped inside bodies twisted by despair or obsession or whatever made them vulnerable. You're ending that suffering, not causing it."
Ren sat back slightly, stunned into silence. A long pause settled between them. Comfortable, this time. Like something unspoken had stitched them closer.
Then, with a small huff, Celia added, "I've never told anyone any of that before, y'know."
Ren turned toward her again.
She hesitated, then added, voice quieter now—almost unsure.
"Also… Celia's not my real name."
Ren blinked.
"It's Airi. Airi Amatsuki. I changed it when I joined POND. Thought it'd be easier to leave that part of me behind if no one could call me by it."
She looked away, embarrassed. "Guess I just wanted to start over. Be someone I chose to be."
There was a pause. Then, softer, she added, "But… maybe I don't have to hide it anymore. Maybe I should start accepting who I am underneath all this. So… you can call me Airi, if you want."
She smiled at him—tentative, but real.
Ren nodded slowly, letting it sink in. Then he tried the name out, gently.
"Airi…"
He said it like it was something fragile. Like it meant something now.
He said softly, almost teasing, "Just so you know, I think your mom would've been proud. You're stubborn, loud, reckless as hell… but you've got this big heart that never quits. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?"
Airi snorted through her nose, her eyes darting away. "Okay, wow. Real smooth, Kurose. You practice that one in front of a mirror?"
Ren smirked. "Only every morning. Right after brushing my teeth."
She let out a full laugh this time—light, a little cracked, but real. "You're such a dork."
"Well you are lying next to that dork."
"Only because I had nowhere else to go," she said, flicking a piece of grass at him.
Ren laughed and caught the blade mid-air, tossing it right back at her. "Sure. But you smiled. I saw it. You're not getting out of this wholesome bonding moment."
"Oh no," she groaned dramatically. "It's worse than I thought. Emotional intimacy. Gross."
"Too late," he said, grinning. "We're already knee-deep."
Their gazes locked, and for a moment, something hung there—delicate, warm, unspoken. Not a confession, not quite. But something honest. Something teenage and tender.
Then Airi leaned back onto her elbows, eyes drifting to the stars again. "That's why I wanna see more of this place," she said. "Before we leave."
He stayed quiet, because she was right.
"I just… there's a lot of things I haven't seen," she went on. "Stuff that's normal for people here but feels magical to me. Like train stations in the rain. Taiyaki stands. Kids playing baseball in the streets. And…"
She paused, her voice softening to a dreamier register.
"…fireworks."
"Fireworks?" Ren asked.
Airi smiled. "The summer festival. It's a big thing here, right? Yukatas. Lanterns. Food stalls. Everyone watching the sky together."
She glanced sideways at him, cheeks a little pink in the moonlight.
"I wanna go. With you guys. With Yui. With Bonk and Miss Yue. Maybe Andre too if he promises not to wear his weird fish-print shirt again."
Ren chuckled. "That shirt's a national treasure."
"It's a war crime."
They both laughed again, easy and quiet, until the moment drifted back into calm. The breeze rustled through the trees once more. The stars blinked overhead.
"Let's go then," Ren said, his voice low and certain. "To the festival."
"You mean it?"
He nodded. "We'll all go. You, me, Yui… the whole crew. It's a date."
A beat passed. Then Ren blinked, eyes widening as his own words caught up with him.
"Wait—I mean, not a date date," he stammered, waving his hands a little too quickly. "Just… y'know. Everyone hanging out. Like friends. Just friends."
Airi looked at him, stunned for a moment—then blushed, her eyes darting away for just a second before locking onto his again. She reached out and gently took his hand.
"Thank you, Ren," she said softly.
She was smiling again. Not her usual smirk or teasing grin—but something warm, genuine… and just a little shy.