Chapter 11: Promises Are Meant to Be Kept
The next morning, the sun broke through the clouds for the first time in weeks. Light poured through the windows of Kyoshi's room, and for a moment, everything felt almost normal—except for the girl standing quietly by the foot of his bed.
Hikari.
Still translucent. Still weightless.
But there.
Watching.
She wasn't bound to shadows or night.
She stayed with him through sunlight, through silence, through the fragile edges of morning.
Kyoshi sat up, rubbing his eyes. He half-expected her to vanish like a dream.
She didn't.
"Good morning," she said, her voice soft but clear.
He stared. "I thought it might've been just… grief. My mind."
"I'm not here because you're broken," she said. "I'm here because we weren't finished."
Kyoshi nodded slowly. "Then let's start."
The First Promise: The Final Pages
They began with his sketchbook.
Kyoshi had filled the last page with her name, but now he opened a new one.
He drew her.
Not how she was before, but how she was now.
Ethereal. Luminous. Still beautiful in a way that a photograph could never capture.
As he sketched, she sat by the window, watching the cherry tree sway in the wind.
"I like this version," she said. "It's not just who I was… it's who I still am."
Kyoshi smiled faintly. "You're still changing me."
She looked over. "Good. That means I haven't really died."
The Second Promise: Kyoto, One Last Time
They returned to Kyoto.
Kyoshi brought only his sketchbook, a single bag, and a small jar of river stones they collected during their trip together. He walked the streets alone—but not alone.
Hikari appeared beside him as he passed Fushimi Inari.
She floated through the torii gates, smiling quietly. "This place remembers us."
He knelt by the riverbank, scattering the stones across the water.
Each splash was a heartbeat.
A memory.
And when the last stone was gone, he whispered, "Now part of you lives here, too."
The Third Promise: Let Me Go When You're Ready
In Osaka, they rode the Ferris wheel again.
Kyoshi sat in the gondola, clutching his sketchbook to his chest.
Hikari sat across from him, her form barely visible in the shifting city light.
"I won't be here forever," she said.
He nodded. "I know."
"When I leave, I want to leave knowing you'll keep living. Even if I can't."
He looked down. "What if I forget your voice? Your face?"
"You won't," she said. "You'll draw me again. You'll hear me in songs. You'll feel me in quiet moments."
She leaned forward, her ghostly hand hovering just above his.
"You don't have to let go now. Just… don't hold on too tightly when the time comes."
Back home, they stood together on the same hill where he carried her beneath the stars.
Now, she glowed faintly, her edges fading just a little more.
"Kyoshi," she said, "I have one final promise for you to make."
He turned toward her, eyes glassy.
"Promise me you'll fall in love again."
His voice broke. "I don't want to."
"But you will."
"I don't want anyone but you."
She smiled, brighter than ever—sad, beautiful, complete.
"Then love me enough… to let someone else carry the rest of your story."
Kyoshi closed his eyes.
And whispered, "I promise."
That night, she faded with the wind.
And this time, she didn't return.