Morning felt the same as always—yet something was different.
I moved through my routine without much thought. Brushing my teeth, pulling on my uniform, stepping out of the house. The air was crisp, the usual school-day quiet settling over the streets. Students passed by in groups, chatting about whatever nonsense made their mornings feel normal.
I met Haru and Sayoko on the way. Haru was talking, gesturing a little too dramatically, while Sayoko sipped on a canned coffee, her eyes half-lidded as if she hadn't quite woken up yet.
"You're quieter than usual," Sayoko muttered, side-eyeing me.
I exhaled. "Just thinking."
"You always are," Haru said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
We kept walking, and I let the conversation drift between them. Nothing about our rhythm had changed—but inside, everything felt like it had.
Classes passed in a blur. I scribbled notes, stared out the window, nodded along when teachers spoke. Nothing really stuck. My mind was somewhere else.
Kane.
I knew where she'd be.
When the final bell rang, I didn't even hesitate. My feet carried me up the stairs, past the dull voices of students lingering in the hallways, until I reached the rooftop.
There she was.
Standing by the railing, the wind pulling at her hair, her back to me like she knew I'd come but wasn't in a hurry to turn around.
I exhaled and stepped forward.
"You finally figured it out?" she asked before I could say anything.
I leaned against the railing beside her. "Yeah."
A pause. The wind filled the silence between us.
"But I need you to wait," I said, staring out at the skyline. "There's something I have to do first."
Kane finally turned to look at me. Her expression was calm, unreadable. "The past?"
I nodded. "I need to give Komaru answers. And I need to face what I forgot."
She didn't look surprised. If anything, it felt like she already knew.
"Alright," she said, crossing her arms. "Then go do it. But don't take too long."
I almost smiled. "I won't."
She studied me for a moment, then sighed. "You really are stubborn."
"So are you," I shot back.
That earned me a smirk. "Fair enough."
She turned away, the wind shifting as she walked toward the exit.
I stayed for a while, staring at the city below.
It wasn't over yet. But it was a step forward.
Chapter [X]: Before I Can Move Forward (Part 3)
I stayed on the rooftop for a while after Kane left. The city stretched out before me, endless and indifferent.
The past.
It wasn't just about remembering. It was about facing it, understanding it, and deciding what to do with it.
Komaru deserved answers. She had been there before everything fell apart. Before I forgot. She had been a part of what I lost.
And then there was Haru. Sayoko. The people I had played along with, pretending nothing was wrong.
How much of it had been real?
I let out a slow breath and pushed away from the railing. Standing here wouldn't change anything.
I made my way downstairs, weaving through the thinning crowd of students.
---
Haru and Sayoko were by the front gate when I stepped outside. Haru had his hands shoved into his pockets, his usual lazy stance, while Sayoko leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her eyes scanning the street like she was waiting for something interesting to happen.
"You look dramatic," Haru said as soon as he spotted me.
I raised an eyebrow. "And you look like you're avoiding responsibilities."
"Touché," he said, grinning.
Sayoko let out a sigh. "So? What's with you today?"
I considered lying. Saying it was nothing. But I was tired of that.
"I need to talk to Komaru," I admitted.
They exchanged a glance.
"About what?" Sayoko asked.
I hesitated, then shook my head. "Just… things I should have dealt with sooner."
Haru hummed. "So, you're finally confronting your tragic past?"
I rolled my eyes. "I never said tragic."
"You didn't have to."
Sayoko narrowed her eyes slightly. "You're being weird."
I exhaled. They weren't wrong.
Haru crossed his arms. "So, what's Komaru got to do with it?"
I didn't answer right away.
"She was there," I finally said. "Before I forgot."
A brief silence stretched between us. Haru looked confused, and even Sayoko didn't seem to know what to say.
"Forgot…?" Haru echoed.
I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. I just… I need to see her."
Sayoko didn't push. Haru opened his mouth like he wanted to ask something else but closed it again.
We started walking, falling into the usual rhythm. The same streets, the same routine.
But it wasn't the same.
Because, for the first time, I wasn't just going through the motions.
I was taking a step forward.
The walk home felt different.
Not because the streets had changed. Not because Haru and Sayoko acted any differently than usual.
But because, for the first time, I wasn't running from something.
I was walking toward it.
Haru stretched his arms over his head. "So, you're just gonna find Komaru and... what? Have a deep, meaningful conversation?"
"Something like that," I muttered.
"Sounds exhausting," he said with a dramatic sigh.
Sayoko shot him a look. "You don't have to understand it."
"I never said I did," Haru replied, kicking a small rock down the road.
The conversation died down after that.
We reached the point where we usually split off—Haru taking the road toward his place, Sayoko heading in the opposite direction.
Haru paused. "You sure you don't wanna tell us more?"
I hesitated.
Sayoko didn't say anything, just watched me. She always had a way of reading between the lines.
"It's not that I don't want to," I finally said. "I just need to figure it out myself first."
Haru made a face. "Sounds lonely."
I smirked slightly. "Not everything is about being comfortable, Haru."
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, shaking his head. "Just don't disappear into your own head too much."
Sayoko nodded once. "Let us know when you're ready."
I gave them a small wave as they turned away.
Then, I took a deep breath and continued forward.
Toward Komaru.
Toward the past.
The walk to the shrine felt heavier this time.
The sun had long since set, leaving only the dim glow of streetlights to guide my way. The air was damp from the earlier rain, clinging to my clothes, soaking into my skin. Each step up the stone path felt like stepping deeper into something I had buried—something I had chosen to forget.
At the top of the stairs, Komaru was waiting.
She stood near the entrance, arms crossed, watching me in that quiet, patient way of hers. She didn't look surprised to see me.
Like she had known all along that I would come.
I stopped in front of her, my breath stilling in my chest.
"You came," she murmured.
I swallowed. "You told me to find you when I was ready."
She studied me for a long moment. Then, slowly, she pulled the key from her pocket. The same old, rusted key—the one I had given her all those years ago.
She held it up between us, fingers curling around the metal.
"Are you ready now?"
I stared at it, the weight of it settling into my chest.
A door you locked yourself.
The memories were still coming back in pieces, broken fragments slotting into place. I didn't remember everything yet, but I knew enough.
Enough to understand what this key meant.
Enough to know what I had to do.
"...Yeah," I said quietly.
Komaru didn't move right away. She just kept looking at me, as if searching for something in my face.
And then—
"Once you open that door, Yuki," she said softly, "you can't just walk away again."
The rain had stopped, but the air was still thick, the scent of wet earth filling my lungs. My fingers curled.
"I know," I said. "But I have to."
For a second, Komaru's expression shifted—something unreadable flickering across her face. But she didn't argue.
Instead, she exhaled, her grip on the key loosening. And then, finally—
She placed it into my palm.
It was cold. Heavier than I remembered.
"Then go," she said.
I stared at the key for a moment before slipping it into my pocket. The weight didn't leave.
I turned to the shrine, my steps steady.
But before I crossed the threshold, I glanced back at her.
"Komaru."
She met my gaze.
"...Thank you."
A beat of silence.
Then, she shook her head, a small, tired smile ghosting her lips.
"Just don't make me regret this, Yuki."
I nodded once.
And then, without another word, I stepped forward—toward the past I had finally begun to remember.
The shrine was empty.
The moment I stepped inside, a hush settled over me, wrapping around my skin like a thin layer of dust. The faint scent of old wood and incense lingered in the air, the flickering lanterns casting uneven shadows against the worn walls.
Everything looked the same.
And yet, nothing felt the same.
I moved forward, my footsteps barely making a sound against the wooden floor. My fingers brushed against the railing as I walked, feeling the rough texture beneath my skin. A memory stirred at the edge of my mind—
Laughter. A warm evening. Someone's hand pulling me forward.
"Come on, Yuki! You're too slow!"
I blinked. The voice vanished. The warmth faded.
Swallowing hard, I reached into my pocket, fingers curling around the key. It felt even colder now, pressing against my palm.
At the end of the hall, the door stood waiting.
The one I had locked.
The one I had sworn never to open again.
I exhaled, letting my forehead rest lightly against the wood. For a long moment, I just stood there, listening to the silence.
My heart pounded, each beat pressing against my ribs like a question.
Did I really want to do this?
No.
But I had to.
My grip tightened around the key.
I stepped back.
And then, slowly—
I unlocked the door.
The mechanism clicked, a quiet, almost hesitant sound. The door creaked as it swung open, revealing nothing but darkness beyond. Cold air rushed past me, sending a shiver down my spine.
I hesitated.
And then I stepped inside.
The room smelled of damp wood and time left untouched. My fingers fumbled along the wall until they found the switch.
Light flickered to life.
And the past stared back at me.
The first thing I saw was the desk. The papers scattered across it, yellowed at the edges. The books piled in uneven stacks, some half-open, their words frozen mid-sentence. The chair, still slightly pulled out, as if someone had left in a hurry.
As if they had never come back.
My chest tightened.
Then, my gaze drifted further—to the shelf on the far side of the room.
And there it was.
The box.
The same one from my memories.
The one I had shoved to the back of my mind, pretending it didn't exist.
I swallowed.
I should leave.
I should walk away before this became too real.
But my body moved on its own.
Step by step, I crossed the room.
I reached out.
My fingers brushed the lid—
And the past came rushing back.