The Lighthouse

The Lighthouse (Chapter 5)

Chapter 5: Emerging Benevolence.

By the time Aki returned to the lighthouse, the sun had already begun climbing into the sky, casting long rays of light over the wet landscape. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, his body aching from the stress of the night before. He hadn't slept in over 24 hours, but the generator repair still needed completing.
Although he could have got some sleep and finished it later, a quiet stubbornness inside insisted he finish the job first. Besides, he questioned whether he would even be able to sleep yet, despite his growing fatigue—his mind was still a blur, numb from everything that had happened.

Aki moved with sluggish determination back into the generator room.
As the morning wore on, his fatigue deepened and every movement felt heavier than the last. But he pressed on, determined to get the lighthouse fully functional again.
By the time the generator was fixed, it was almost noon.

With a heavy sigh of relief, Aki wiped his oil-smudged brow and set his tools aside. He had done it, but the weight of exhaustion was now pulling him down fast.

His body and mind ached for sleep, and now that the urgent repairs were over, he finally allowed himself the luxury of being able to relax with a soothing hot shower and then some rest.

After his shower, Aki barely made it to his bed before collapsing onto it.
With Momo tucked under his arm, he tiredly pulled the covers over himself and closed his eyes.

Sleep came quickly, dragging Aki into a deep, dream-filled slumber.

He was back in the café from the city, surrounded by familiar sights and sounds. The clinking of cups, the low hum of voices—everything was exactly as it had been. But there was no rush, no tension, only peace.

As he stood there in the dream, Aki felt something soft brush against his ears—a gentle caress, light and soothing. It was a sensation he hadn't felt in a while, reminiscent of the kind touches from café patrons who used to pet his ears with innocent curiosity. But this felt different—softer, more deliberate. A warmth spread through him, soothing him, lulling him deeper into the dream. He leaned into the sensation, letting it wash over him like a wave of comfort.
It was so calming. So safe. Like someone was taking care of him.

And then, just as quickly as it had started, the dream began to fade. Aki stirred, his eyes fluttering open as he returned to consciousness.
He lay there for a moment, caught between the soft embrace of sleep and the waking world. His ears twitched slightly, still remembering the soothing feeling of them being gently caressed.

Slowly, he sat up, rubbing his eyes. The light streaming through the window told him it was late afternoon. The storm had cleared, leaving the island bathed in a soft, golden glow.

Aki had managed to doze for a few hours but was still not fully rested. He stretched, his body stiff from both the repair work and the general deficit of proper sleep.
As he shifted, his gaze fell to the bedside table—and there, resting next to his alarm clock, was his friendship bracelet.

His breath caught in his throat.

The bracelet, the one he thought he had lost somewhere outside during the storm last night, was now lying right in front of him. He picked it up slowly, turning it over in his hands. It was dry, clean—almost as if it had never left his wrist at all.

Aki's mind raced. He clearly remembered it slipping off his wrist while he was outside and losing it to the deadly rocks. And yet... here it was.

His thoughts drifted back to the dream. The gentle caressing of his ears. The feeling of being watched-over, cared for, and guided.

A shiver ran down his spine as thoughts of the mysterious apparition entered his mind again.

Could it have been...?

He stared at the bracelet for a long moment, trying to make sense of it all. There was no denying it now—something was there with him.

In such an isolated situation, the thought would have unnerved most people, likely driving them to pack their bags and leave immediately. But Aki found himself feeling strangely calm and rational about the whole thing.

His thoughts kept circling back to the bracelet. He vividly remembered the moment it had slipped from his wrist and flown over the cliff edge into the deadly rocks below—he had been certain it was gone for good, swallowed by the chaos of the night.

Yet, when he'd woken to find it placed gently by his bedside, something powerful had stirred within him. It wasn't just the return of the bracelet—it was the way it had been returned, clean and dry, as if by something or someone that cared.

As he tightened his grip on the bracelet, he couldn't help but reflect. This presence, whatever it was, had only ever helped him.
And despite his trepidation and the endless questions swirling in his mind, he didn't feel the urge to flee—not yet.

He didn't know who or what this presence was, but one thing was becoming clear: it meant him no harm.