The key turned softly in the door, and with a gentle push, it swung open. Okamura stepped inside with a hesitant huff, slipping off his shoes by the tatami mat and padding quietly toward the dining room.
He placed the brown paper bag containing Koyori's dress on the dining room table, then wandered into the kitchen where his stomach growled almost as loudly as his footsteps against the floor.
As he reached for the fridge door, Okamura noticed something stuck to it.
A note?
"I made dinner, dear; it's in the fridge. I made sure there's enough for you and a certain someone, if you know what I mean ;) I'll be back in the morning, okay? Love you."
With a sharp breath, he crumpled the paper and tossed it into the trash across the room.
The message clearly had soured his mood. Without another glance at the fridge, he made his way upstairs, stumbling with each step. The moment he reached his room, his body gave out, collapsing onto the bed.
Sliding his phone from his pocket, the screen lit up—dozens of notifications flooding in.
He barely spared them a glance before setting the device aside.
A dull ache throbbed behind Okamura's eyes as he stared up at the ceiling. His thoughts drifted back—first to Koyori's tear-streaked face, then to the strange figure, the haze, the voice that called him "Sakata," and the blonde-haired girl who had embraced him.
None of it made much sense.
But all of it sent a unnerving sense of fear in his being.
"Why did I freeze up? Why couldn't I run after her? Why couldn't I say anything?"
The memory of her disappearing down the street, of her voice breaking as she cried his name—it settled heavily on his chest. Not to mention that presence—that ominous presence of death.
He sat up, rubbing his face with his left hand.
Then, he glanced toward his desk.
The paper bag he carried with him.
Koyori's dress.
The one she admired with stars in her eyes.
Without thinking, he stood up, crossed the room, and pulled the bag open. The soft green fabric and sash of the kimono peeked out.
For a moment, he just stood there, staring at it.
"You deserve someone better than me."
-----
Okamura stood in the middle of an old street, shrouded in dusk. The buildings around him were unfamiliar—traditional, wooden, and weathered by time.
Okamura glance down.
He was barefoot. The ground beneath him was damp, almost sticky, like mud.
Then he heard it.
A soft, distant echo—like someone calling him forward.
He moved without thinking, walking down the narrow street as shadows crept along the buildings.
The sound grew louder the closer he got.
Until he saw her.
A girl stood at the far end of the road, her back facing him. Small, with straight blonde hair brushing down her shoulders. Her deep blue eyes flicked back over her shoulder, as if she'd known he was coming all along.
"You're late," she said.
"Chihaya?" Okamura asked.
"Nope," the girl answered without turning fully. She's gone for now. I'm here to keep you company until she gets back."
He tried to move forward, but the ground suddenly gave way beneath him.
He fell into the abyss.
And in the darkness—
That ominous voice returned.
«Θα σε σπάσω μέχρι να μην μείνει τίποτα.»
Just like earlier that day, Okamura was yanked from his deep slumber. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he reached for the edge of the bed. The shrill ringing of his phone vibrated across the carpeted floor.
As the sound persisted, he remained motionless in bed, his tear-glazed eyes staring blankly into the dark.
"What is... happening to me?"
With a deep sigh, he slowly sat up, moonlight streaming through the window and casting faint, shifting shadows across his face. His gaze lingered on his scar-ridden body before settling on the glowing screen below him.
He reached over to grab the phone, fingers hovering over the decline button. Okamura wanted to reject the call—but knowing the trouble that might follow, he quickly changed his mind.
Grabbing a neatly folded shirt from the edge of the bed, he swiped the phone up.
"What is it this time?"
On the other end, a voice came through—soft, trembling and hesitant. "I wanted to talk, but it felt like I'd only be a bother."
"N—No," he stammered, his sharp tone softening. "I was just disoriented... that's all. If you ever want to talk, I'm always here. You know that."
The night air felt cool and fresh, unlike the awkward tension between him and Makiko.
While he stood by the window, his mind still foggy, he managed to piece together the likely cause of her mood—another argument with her stepmother and father.
"Did something happen between you and your parents again?"
She didn't respond right away. But he could hear the faint hum of her fan through the receiver—and beneath it, the sound of her quiet sobs.
"...I don't know how much longer I can take this," she finally whispered. "F-Father is telling me I should attend college overseas!"
Leaning against the windowpane, Okamura rubbed his face, shaking off the last remnants of drowsiness. "...And I can only imagine he made that decision for your own benefit."
"He didn't!" she snapped. "He never does! He only made that decision because of her! I overheard their conversation the other day—she wants to spend time back in South Korea. But if we go... I know we aren't coming back."
Her sobs began to grow, trembling through the line.
"I... don't want to go, Kintarō!"
It was clear—this wasn't just a simple dispute. It was years of resentment and bottled-up bitterness bubbling to the surface once more.
"Makiko, you're overthinking this again," he said, trying to ground her spiralling emotions. "If he believes it's the best decision, then maybe there is no reason for him to compromise. In the end, it will benefit both of you. Am I wrong?"
But his reasoning seemed to fall on deaf ears. Her silence gave way to a strained voice, trembling with desperation.
"But... how can I just leave you all behind?"
"I don't want you to go either, Makiko. I... don't want to lose you... like I lost everyone else."
There was a long silence on the other end, followed by a soft sniffle.
"I snuck up to the roof again," Makiko said after a moment, her voice lighter now. "It's the only place where I can feel any true peace."
"You're not gonna catch a cold again, are you?"
"I brought a blanket this time. I'm not completely reckless."
There was a pause, then she spoke again—quieter this time. "Do you remember that night we watched the fireworks from here? Just you and me?"
"Don't say it like that. It sounds like we're a couple or something."
"You know what I mean."
"We drank that horrible shōchū, and you got so wasted I had to carry you all the way down. The only reason I drank with you in the first place was because you told me it was amazake."
"You're still hung up on that?" she chuckled, soft and genuine. "It's funny. That was one of the few nights I actually felt safe."
Okamura leaned further into the window frame.
"Makiko," he said, choosing his words carefully, "I know I can't fix your situation... but if there is ever a time when you don't feel safe—just say the word. I'll be there."
She didn't respond right away. The breeze on her end rustled faintly through the phone. Then, a soft chuckle.
"...Do you think we'll still talk like this a few year from now?" she asked. "If I go. If I leave. Will it still be like this?"
Okamura leaned his forehead against the cool glass. "If you go, I'll still call. I'll still be here. Even if you're halfway around the world. Even if we're both different people by then."
"...Don't say that!"
"Don't say what?"
"That we'll be different. I don't want to change. I don't want you to change either. I want things to stay like this forever."
A soft sniffle came through the speaker. Then her voice again.
"Kintarō?"
"Yeah?"
"If I said I didn't feel safe right now, in this moment, would you be here for me?"
"You don't even have to ask again. I'm already on my way."
"...Wait, you're actually coming?!"
"You thought I was joking?" he murmured, already slipping one arm through his sleeve and grabbing his keys from the desk.
"No, I—" she paused. "You're such an idiot sometimes."
"Aren't you tired of telling me that? That isn't going to sway my decision. Anyway, I'll be there in ten minutes, okay?"
He ended the call before she could talk him out of it.
「良い友達は人生へのつながりです.」