I ignored her, maintaining that cold wall I was building for her sake.
At least, that's what I told myself.
I walked past her, keeping my head below her shoulder level.
But as I passed, her hand, soft and firm, grabbed my wrist.
"Dying is not a solution."
There was a heaviness in her voice that pressed down on my heart, urging it to spill everything it held.
But I knew it was too late for that.
I carried on, shaking her hand off my wrist.
She repeated it—louder now, deeper.
"DYING ISN'T THE SOLUTION!"
Something inside me finally broke.
"SO WHAT'S THE GODDAMN SOLUTION?!"
I screamed, my voice tearing through the silent night.
With a breaking voice, "What other solution is there?!
What good more than this does a cursed one like me deserve?!
And who cares if I'm here or not?!"
"All of them want me dead!
No—they've already assumed I'm dead!"
"I ca… I can't take any more!"
"Wha… What do you think you know about me?!
Why do you care so much?!"
My head rose above her shoulder level.
Tears fell like raindrops—
rain I had suppressed for far too long.
And now, I couldn't stop it.
Suddenly, warmth wrapped around me.
My body loosened, and the rain turned into a storm.
Tsukiakari.
She pulled me into her arms and held me.
And in the silence, the only voice that lingered was of my tears
Then came her voice soft—
carrying something deeper than love.
"You are not alone," she said.
"Mrs. Kouya and I are here.
We care."
"Live for us."
"Dying isn't a solution for you."
"I need you."
"I am here.
I want to know."
My breath grew heavy.
My heart felt light.
Yet each tear carried more weight than ever before.
She saved a soul that should have died.
She gave rain to a rose that should have never bloomed.
I told her everything.
From the fire.
To the yokai.
To the present.
We sat beside the river.
After hearing my past, her face softened her eyes numbed—
nostalgia and sorrow peeking through.
"You are just like my brother," she said.
"Kako no Yoake."
Tears welled in her eyes.
"When we were still in Tokyo," she began,
"at our grandmother's funeral, he said she was still with us."
"We thought he couldn't face reality
and he was making things up."
"But after a few weeks, things got worse."
"He screamed at night.
Ran away from school."
"He said he could see something not from this world—
something beyond our understanding."
"We thought it was trauma.
Or mental illness."
"He was closest to her."
"We tried psychologists.
It didn't help."
She took a shaky breath.
"Then one night…
he jumped from the tenth floor."
"After two days in the hospital,
he took his final breath."
"After that, we moved here."
"Some villagers told us about a cursed boy—
whose parents died in a fire,
but he survived unharmed."
"Like a devil who belonged in the flames."
"That same night," she continued softly,
"when I was taking a walk… I saw you."
"The image of my brother jumping flashed before me."
"I couldn't help myself."
"I had to stop you."
She looked at me.
Her eyes still sparkled—
but this time, it wasn't something alien.
It was something I felt.
"Finally," she said,
"Fate has given me a second chance."
"And I don't want to waste it."
"Call me selfish, but I won't let you die not yet."
Her tears carried more weight than anything I had ever known.
I had two choices.
To die, and find the peace I had longed for.
Or to stay.
To walk forward with her
and see what fate had prepared for us.
I chose to live.
For the first time in twelve years,
I felt noticed.
Someone wanted me.
Someone needed me.
The rose that bloomed in drought
finally received the rain to survive.
I wiped her tears with my thumb.
And we sat together in silence—
beside the river where it all began.