Chapter Text
The first thing Mikha noticed about Japan was how unfairly beautiful everything looked.
The streets.
The food.
The mountains.
Especially the mountains.
She stood beside Aiah at the base of the trail, adjusting the straps of her borrowed hiking backpack while trying not to look terrified.
"Remind me why we're doing this?" Mikha asked.
Aiah grinned.
"Because it's fun."
"Fun for who?"
"For me."
"Exactly."
Aiah laughed, leaning over to fix Mikha's crooked cap.
It was their anniversary trip.
One whole week in Japan.
Tokyo first.
Then Kyoto.
Then a few days in the countryside because Aiah had discovered some famous mountain trail online and instantly decided they needed to experience it.
Needed.
As if hiking several kilometers uphill was somehow a romantic activity.
Mikha personally believed romance should involve hot springs and room service.
Not sweat.
Definitely not sweat.
"Come on," Aiah said. "You'll survive."
"That's exactly what people say before someone dies."
Aiah rolled her eyes and dragged her toward the gathering point.
The hike was guided.
Around fifteen people had joined.
Some were locals.
Some were tourists.
Most looked suspiciously athletic.
Mikha already felt out of place.
The guide explained the route while everyone stretched.
Meanwhile Mikha was already tired.
They hadn't even started.
Aiah looked annoyingly excited.
The kind of excited that made Mikha want to push her into a bush.
---
The first hour wasn't too bad.
The trail was scenic.
Trees surrounded them.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves.
Birds chirped.
The weather was perfect.
Mikha even managed to convince herself she was enjoying it.
For approximately twelve minutes.
Then the incline got steeper.
And steeper.
And somehow even steeper.
Who designed mountains?
Why were they like this?
Aiah walked ahead effortlessly.
Meanwhile Mikha was fighting for her life.
"Babi."
No response.
"Bab."
Still no response.
"Aiah."
Aiah finally turned.
"What?"
"I'm dying."
"You're not dying."
"I can see my ancestors."
Aiah laughed.
"You've only been walking for two hours."
"Exactly."
"Come on."
Mikha groaned dramatically.
Aiah waited for her to catch up before continuing.
At first.
Then the gap started growing.
A few meters.
Then several.
Then more.
Because no matter how hard Mikha tried, she simply couldn't keep pace.
---
By lunchtime, frustration had started creeping in.
Mostly because Mikha hated being the slowest person in the group.
Everyone else seemed fine.
Everyone else was moving normally.
Meanwhile she kept asking for water breaks.
And rest breaks.
And emotional support breaks.
She knew Aiah loved hiking.
Knew Aiah practically lived for activities like this.
Which only made her feel worse.
Because she didn't want to ruin the experience.
Didn't want to be the girlfriend who held everyone back.
So she pushed herself harder.
Even when her legs burned.
Even when her feet hurt.
Even when her lungs felt like they were filing a formal complaint.
---
The accident happened during the final stretch.
The trail narrowed.
Loose gravel covered parts of the path.
Aiah had already moved ahead.
Not far.
But far enough.
"Babi, hurry up."
Mikha clenched her jaw.
"I'm trying."
"You're walking slower than before."
"I'm tired."
"We're almost there."
"I know."
"Then come on."
Something in Aiah's tone stung.
Not cruel.
Not yet.
But impatient.
Mikha hated it.
Because she was already embarrassed.
Already frustrated.
Already trying her best.
She increased her pace.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Then her foot landed wrong.
The world tilted.
A sharp pain exploded through her ankle.
And suddenly she was on the ground.
"Shit."
The curse escaped before she could stop it.
Her palm scraped against rough stone.
Her knee slammed into dirt.
Pain shot through her leg.
Several hikers turned immediately.
The guide rushed over.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah."
She wasn't.
But saying otherwise felt humiliating.
She pushed herself upright.
Ignoring how much everything hurt.
Aiah finally returned.
"What happened?"
"I slipped."
The words came out sharper than intended.
Aiah looked annoyed.
Not concerned.
Annoyed.
Which somehow hurt worse than the fall itself.
"We're almost done."
Mikha stared at her.
Aiah sighed.
"Can you walk?"
Mikha swallowed.
"Yeah."
"Then let's go."
And just like that—
Aiah turned around.
And kept walking.
---
Mikha stood frozen.
The guide hesitated.
"Do you need help?"
"No."
The answer came automatically.
Because if she said yes, she might cry.
And she absolutely refused to cry in front of strangers.
So she limped forward.
One painful step after another.
Trying desperately to ignore the ache in her ankle.
The scrape on her knee.
The sting in her palm.
The lump growing in her throat.
---
The tears started fifteen minutes later.
Not because of the pain.
Because of everything else.
Because she had been trying all day.
Because she already felt inadequate.
Because she knew she wasn't athletic.
Because she knew she wasn't good at hiking.
Because she knew she was slowing everyone down.
And because the one person she wanted comfort from had walked away.
The tears came silently.
Then not so silently.
Soon she was wiping her face every few seconds.
Hoping nobody noticed.
Unfortunately someone did.
Aiah.
---
When Aiah finally stopped and looked back, she immediately knew something was wrong.
Mikha wasn't just walking slowly anymore.
She was crying.
Hard.
Aiah's stomach dropped.
"Oh."
Suddenly all her irritation disappeared.
Immediately.
Replacing it with guilt.
Massive guilt.
She waited until Mikha caught up.
When she finally did, her eyes were red.
Her cheeks were wet.
And she refused to look at Aiah.
"Babi."
Nothing.
"Mikha."
Still nothing.
Aiah stepped closer.
"What happened?"
That earned her a look.
A genuinely hurt look.
The kind that made guilt stab straight through her chest.
"What happened?" Mikha repeated.
"Seriously?"
Aiah swallowed.
"I just—"
"You've been rude all day."
The words were quiet.
Which somehow made them worse.
"You kept rushing me."
"Mikha—"
"You kept acting annoyed."
Aiah opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Because she couldn't honestly deny it.
Mikha wiped her face.
"I'm already trying my best."
Every word cracked.
"I'm already slow."
Another tear escaped.
"I know that."
Aiah's chest tightened.
"And you keep reminding me."
Silence.
The kind that hurts.
The kind that forces someone to confront exactly what they've done.
Then Aiah noticed it.
The blood.
The scrape on Mikha's knee.
The dirt covering her hands.
The slight limp.
The swelling around her ankle.
And suddenly she felt absolutely awful.
"Oh my God."
Aiah crouched immediately.
"Babi."
Mikha stepped away.
"I'm fine."
"No you're not."
"I'm fine."
Aiah reached for her hand.
Mikha pulled away.
The rejection hurt.
And honestly?
Aiah deserved it.
---
The rest of the hike was miserable.
Not because of the trail.
Because Mikha stopped talking.
Completely.
Every attempt at conversation died immediately.
Every apology received silence.
Every concerned glance was ignored.
And for the first time all day, Aiah wished they would walk slower.
Just so she could fix things.
But she couldn't.
Because the damage was already done.
---
Back at the hotel, everyone separated.
The group hike ended.
The guide thanked them.
People exchanged photos.
Mikha barely participated.
She simply followed Aiah toward the nearby buffet restaurant.
Still silent.
Still limping.
Still hurt.
---
The buffet was supposed to be celebratory.
Their final night in that town.
A nice dinner.
Something fun.
Instead it felt awful.
Aiah filled a plate for Mikha.
Her favorites.
Tempura.
Rice.
Grilled salmon.
Dessert.
Even the strawberry cake she liked.
She brought everything to the table.
"Eat?"
Mikha looked down.
Picked at the food.
Took maybe three bites.
Then set her fork down.
"I'm tired."
Aiah's heart sank.
"Bab—"
"I'll go ahead."
"You barely ate."
"I'm not hungry."
Lie.
Obvious lie.
But Mikha stood anyway.
Aiah watched helplessly.
"Can we talk later?"
Mikha looked away.
"Sure."
And left.
---
Aiah remained at the table for another twenty minutes.
Feeling increasingly horrible.
Because now that she wasn't frustrated anymore, she could see everything clearly.
How hard Mikha had been trying.
How exhausted she looked.
How she kept hiding her discomfort.
How she had fallen.
How she'd cried.
God.
Aiah had really messed up.
---
What she didn't know was that Mikha never went straight to their room.
Instead she stopped by the hotel's first aid station.
The nurse immediately noticed the swelling.
"That looks painful."
Mikha laughed weakly.
"Yeah."
The nurse cleaned the scrape.
Wrapped her ankle.
Checked her feet.
The verdict wasn't great.
Several blisters.
Minor sprain.
Nothing serious.
But enough to explain why every step felt awful.
"Try to rest tonight."
Mikha nodded.
"Thanks."
---
By the time Aiah returned to their room, it was almost ten.
The lights were dim.
The curtains were closed.
And Mikha was asleep.
Curled beneath the blankets.
Facing away from the door.
For a moment Aiah simply stood there.
Watching.
Feeling guilty.
Feeling stupid.
Feeling like the worst girlfriend alive.
She carefully approached the bed.
Planning to wake her.
Planning to apologize.
Planning to somehow fix everything.
Then she noticed the bandages.
The ankle wrap.
The blister patches.
The bruising.
And suddenly the guilt became unbearable.
Because while she had been eating dinner...
Mikha had been getting treated.
Alone.
Aiah sat beside the bed.
Carefully lifting the blanket just enough to see.
Her feet looked awful.
Red.
Swollen.
Covered with fresh blister dressings.
Evidence of every painful step she'd taken.
Every step she'd taken trying to keep up with her.
Aiah pressed a hand over her eyes.
And for the first time that day—
She felt tears forming.
Because Mikha never complained.
Not really.
Not until she'd been pushed too far.
And Aiah had pushed her there.
All by herself.