Guardian <remake>

8 ✔️

27th August 2018

Eunbi had never been one to linger in the shadows. Her whole life had been lived on her terms, bold and unapologetic. Yet, here she was, standing in the dimly lit hallway, watching from a distance as Yuna shuffled down the corridor with her head bowed, clutching her books close to her chest, her movements small and almost invisible.

It had been weeks since the accident—weeks since Ryujin had sacrificed herself to save Eunbi. And even though Eunbi had made a promise, a heavy, unbreakable vow to look after Yuna, she wasn’t prepared for the way it would consume her. The guilt gnawed at her constantly, a sharp ache that refused to dull. It wasn’t just the weight of the promise; it was Ryujin herself—still present, somehow, lingering like an echo in Eunbi’s mind, slipping into her thoughts like an unseen presence.

At first, Eunbi thought it was her imagination, a trick her mind was playing to cope with the loss. But it didn’t take long for her to realize that Ryujin was still… there. She didn’t appear in a physical form, nor did her voice sound out in a haunting wail. Instead, it was quiet—an impression, a feeling, a silent urging within Eunbi. And every now and then, there was something more—a thought that wasn’t her own, a memory that wasn’t hers, a sudden wave of warmth that seemed to come from nowhere.

The hardest part was keeping her distance. She couldn’t just approach Yuna and offer her comfort openly; she knew how jarring, even painful, that might be for the younger girl. But she could help in small ways, ways that Yuna might never notice.

Today, she noticed how weary Yuna seemed, how her steps faltered as she made her way to her locker. Eunbi watched, unnoticed, as Yuna struggled to open the lock, her hands shaking. She looked so small, so heartbreakingly vulnerable, and Eunbi’s heart twisted with guilt and empathy.

Then, just as Eunbi took a step back, she felt it—a soft warmth, like the brush of a familiar hand on her shoulder, urging her forward. Ryujin was there, her presence both comforting and insistent.

“She loves flowers, you know.”

The thought drifted into Eunbi’s mind, unbidden but unmistakably Ryujin’s. Eunbi paused, blinking as if she could physically see the thought taking shape before her. She knew now that this was how Ryujin communicated—through flashes of memories, subtle suggestions, quiet reminders of Yuna’s likes and habits.

Without realizing it, Eunbi found herself at the florist after school, awkwardly picking out a small bouquet of daisies. Daisies—she didn’t know why, but they felt right. She didn’t deliver them herself; instead, she slipped them into Yuna’s locker, careful to make sure no one was watching.

The next day, she caught sight of Yuna as she opened her locker. A soft gasp escaped the younger girl’s lips, her eyes widening as she looked at the delicate flowers nestled among her books. For a brief moment, Eunbi saw the faintest hint of a smile—small, almost imperceptible, but genuine. It was the first time she had seen Yuna smile since the accident, and it stirred something deep within her. She could almost feel Ryujin’s presence beside her, a silent, approving warmth.

___

Days turned into weeks, and Eunbi continued her quiet gestures, guided by Ryujin’s subtle nudges. She left small notes in Yuna’s locker, words of encouragement written in soft, flowing handwriting that she knew Ryujin would approve of. She made sure Yuna’s favorite snacks were mysteriously “forgotten” on her desk. Eunbi watched from afar, seeing the small ways these gestures lifted Yuna’s spirits, even if only momentarily.

One evening, as Eunbi sat alone in her room, she felt Ryujin’s presence stronger than ever. She closed her eyes, letting the sensation wash over her, almost as if Ryujin was right there beside her.