You never actually saw Toru Hagakure. You dated her—sort of. It was weird, yes, but you’d gotten used to it. Toru was invisible, and that was both a curse and a feature of your relationship. Dates meant her voice, her laughter, her occasional mischievous hand grabbing your arm, but no physical form. It was like dating a ghost who really liked ramen.

“You know,” you said one day, tossing a sandwich across the park, “I never actually know if you’re wearing pants.”

A giggle floated in the air. “That’s kind of the point,” she teased. “Why spoil the mystery?”

You rolled your eyes. The mystery was cool and all, but there was this nagging part of you that wanted something visible—a glimpse, a shadow, a blip of her actual self. The constant guessing was fun for about three dates. After that, it became less fun, and more like dating a whisper that could steal your fries.

Still, it worked. Somehow.

Then came the moment you weren’t ready for.

It was an ordinary day in the training grounds. You were sitting on a bench, and Toru was, as usual, invisible, perched next to you, fiddling with your hoodie strings. The sunlight filtered through the leaves and landed on your hands, but there was nothing there that suggested she was physically present.

“Hey,” you said, looking at the sky. “I—uh… I love you.”

The words escaped before you could think twice.

There was a pause. A weird silence. Then a deep breath—the kind that only invisible people can make feel ominous—and you heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by a high-pitched squeak.

“Did you just say—?”

“Yeah. I said it.”

Another pause.

“Wait, you love me?” Her voice cracked like a rookie singer at karaoke. “Seriously? Like, love-love? Not just ‘like your ramen’ love?”

“Yes. I mean—yeah. Love-love.”

Then the unexpected happened.

The air shimmered.

You blinked.

And there she was.

Well, not exactly.

A faint shimmer, like a heatwave or a mirage, appeared in front of you. Slowly, almost painfully, Toru’s body materialized. First a faint outline, then a ghostly silhouette, then—bam—full visibility.

Her green hair were wild, messy, and as bouncy as you imagined. Her eyes were bright and sparkling, exactly like her voice—except right now, they were huge, red with embarrassment, and shooting laser beams of awkwardness straight into your soul.

“Holy hell,” you muttered, trying not to stare too much.

She folded her arms tightly over her chest, cheeks flushed. “Don’t look too much! I—I didn’t mean to—It just kind of happened.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You turned off your invisibility? Like… subconsciously? Because I said I love you?”

She nodded, covering her face with her hands. “Yeah, something like that. I swear, I didn’t plan it.”

You smirked. “So basically, I’m a walking heart attack.”

Toru peeked through her fingers. “Pretty much. Can you keep a secret?”

You nodded, folding your arms and settling in for this rare chance at actual face time. “Your secret’s safe with me. But you owe me a warning next time. Invisible-to-visible is a hell of a shock.”

“Deal.” She smiled shyly, stepping a bit closer. “So… you don’t hate me now?”

You laughed. “Why would I? I’ve been dating a literal ghost. This is progress.”

She wiggled her eyebrows. “Progress? What does that mean?”

“It means you’re now a ghost with a face. I can tease you properly.”

Her laugh was infectious. “Fine. But you better make it worth it.”

You reached out and took her hand—visible, warm, and real.

“Worth it? Always.”

Toru leaned into you, glowing faintly in the afternoon light. “Good. Because next time, I might just stay visible.”

You grinned. “Bring it on. Just… don’t scare me.”