A week had passed since Sayuri's tragic death, and yet, to Kaito, it still felt as if the world had come to a screeching halt. The days had bled into one another, an endless, numbing haze that offered no escape. The weight of grief pressed down on him, relentless, suffocating. His thoughts were clouded by her absence. The memories of her smile, her laughter—they were all that remained of the girl he had promised to protect. And now, she was gone. And all he could do was rage at the one who had pushed her. The man responsible for this chaos, for pushing her into a fate she didn't deserve.
Kaito sat in his room, the curtains drawn shut to block out the light, as if it could block out the world. The silence felt heavier here, amplifying the noise in his mind—the never-ending questions, the 'what-ifs,' and the fury that simmered inside him. His chest tightened with every thought. The room, once his sanctuary, now felt like a tomb. Cold, lifeless.
He had always been sure he could protect her, that nothing would come between them. But now, the weight of her death, the truth that she was gone, gnawed at him like a poison. The anger inside him was burning, a pit of rage aimed at the man who had pushed her into that fate. And yet, that anger wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to bring her back. It wasn't enough to fix this shattered world.
Kaito's phone buzzed on the bed, breaking the crushing silence. He hesitated before picking it up. It was a message from Koji.
[Koji: Hey, Kaito, come here. It's Sayuri's funeral today.]
Kaito's hand trembled as he read the words. His heart clenched. The funeral. He knew it was coming, but now that it was here, it felt like a finality he couldn't escape. The weight of it was too much, and yet, he had to go. He had to face it. He had to face the truth that Sayuri was gone.
[Kaito: Alright. I'll come.]
His fingers hovered over the screen for a moment longer before he put the phone down. He couldn't focus. The task of dressing himself, of making himself presentable for the funeral, felt like an impossible feat. Every movement was slow, deliberate, like he was walking through thick mud. The cold bathroom tiles felt like they were biting at his skin as he showered, as if the water itself couldn't wash away the heaviness inside him.
Once dressed in a stiff black suit, Kaito glanced at his reflection in the mirror. He barely recognized the person staring back at him. His eyes were hollow, bloodshot from sleepless nights and tears he couldn't shed. The man in the mirror didn't look like him—he was a stranger, a shell of the person he had once been. A piece of him had died along with Sayuri.
Kaito walked downstairs, the familiar creak of the wooden steps underneath him feeling foreign. His mother was waiting for him in the kitchen. Her eyes, red and swollen from crying, met his. She, too, was drowning in her grief, though she tried to hide it. She was putting on a brave face for him. But Kaito saw the cracks.
"Mom," Kaito began, his voice thick with the weight of unsaid words, "Where's Riku?"
"He's at school," she replied softly, but there was no mistaking the sadness in her tone.
"You're dressed... Where are you going?" Her voice trembled slightly, though she was trying to sound normal, trying to hold it together.
Kaito's throat tightened, but he forced himself to answer. "Sayuri's funeral."
His mother's expression fell, a flash of pain crossing her face, before she walked over to him. Without a word, she enveloped him in a tight, crushing hug, as if she could somehow transfer her strength to him. Kaito let himself be held for a moment, though it did nothing to soothe the storm inside of him.
"It's hard to accept, isn't it?" she murmured, her voice trembling.
Kaito's chest tightened, and the tears he had been holding back for days finally broke free. He clung to her, his body shaking with the force of his grief. The pain was unbearable. He had promised to protect her, to keep her safe. But now, all he had was the overwhelming guilt of failing her.
"Yeah... Mom... I miss her so much. I—" His voice cracked, the words getting caught in his throat. "Why? Why did she have to die? I promised... I promised I would protect her."
His mother held him tighter, her hands gently rubbing his back, offering a soft comfort that only seemed to make the ache worse.
"You couldn't have known, Kaito. You did the best you could. This wasn't your fault." She pulled back slightly, cupping his face in her hands, her eyes filled with concern. "You have to understand that. You couldn't have stopped it."
But Kaito's mind refused to accept it. "No... no, I should've known. The man who pushed her—he's the reason she's gone. He should've never been able to do that to her. If I had stopped him... maybe... maybe she'd still be here." His voice trembled with desperation, and his chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.
His mother's hands were gentle as she wiped away his tears. "You are not responsible for what happened, Kaito. There are things in this world we can't control, things that happen for reasons we'll never understand. You can't change the past, but you can keep her memory alive. You can move forward, for her."
Kaito wanted to believe her. He truly did. But the anger, the sadness—they were too powerful. The hole in his chest seemed to grow deeper with every breath he took. He swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears, but they kept coming. "I just miss her so much…"
"I know," his mother whispered, pulling him into another tight hug. "I know, sweetheart."
Kaito stopped at the door, his hands trembling as he grabbed his bike. He forced a small, broken smile, even though his heart was shattering. "See you later, Mom. After the funeral, I'll pick up your favorite food. I promise."
His mother smiled softly, her eyes still filled with sorrow. "Take care of yourself, Kaito. And be safe."
Kaito nodded, though his heart ached as he left. Outside, his younger sister, Aiko, ran up to their mother, calling his name.
"Mom, where's Kaito going?" Aiko asked innocently, not fully understanding the weight of death but sensing the sadness that hung in the air.
His mother paused, searching for the right words before answering, "He's going to Sayuri's funeral."
"Oh…" Aiko's voice trailed off, and though she didn't fully grasp it, the sadness that lingered in the air was palpable even to her.
When Kaito arrived at the funeral, the scene before him felt unreal. He walked toward the small gathering, where Koji stood beside Mrs. Fujimori, her grief almost suffocating. The woman who had once been so full of life now seemed like a mere shadow of herself, hollow and broken.
Kaito approached them, his throat tight. "Koji," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Hey, man," Koji replied, offering a small, weak smile. "I know this is hard... but we'll get through it, together."
Kaito nodded, but the words felt empty, hollow. He turned to Mrs. Fujimori, whose eyes were red from crying. Her face was a mask of sorrow. He bowed deeply, his heart heavy. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Fujimori. I never meant for any of this to happen."
Mrs. Fujimori placed a hand on his shoulder, her grip firm despite the trembling in her voice. "Kaito, it's not your fault. You did everything you could. Please, don't blame yourself."
Kaito straightened up, his chest tight as he looked at Sayuri's photograph on the altar. A framed picture of her smiling, her eyes bright, staring back at him from a world that no longer existed. His heart shattered all over again as he placed a white flower in front of the picture.
But as he turned to leave, something caught his eye. A red car.
The same red car he had seen before. Near Sayuri's house. It was familiar. Too familiar. His pulse quickened.
And then, it hit him. A memory—sharp, vivid—like a blade through his chest.
The car. A man inside. A smile, a cruel, mocking smile. And the gunshot.
The pain was excruciating. His chest exploding in agony as blood poured out of him.
---
Kaito staggered backward, gasping for air. His heart pounded in his ears. "What... What was that? Why do I feel like this?" His voice was weak, trembling. His body shook with the weight of the memory—or was it a premonition?
The air around him felt suffocating, heavy with a terror he couldn't understand. It was as if the veil between his current reality and some other twisted fate had cracked, revealing something far worse.
What was happening to him?
Kaito's body moved on instinct as he rushed out of the funeral home, but his mind was a storm of confusion. He couldn't shake the feeling that something had been awakened inside him—a terrible truth he wasn't ready to face.
And as he left the cemetery, one thought echoed in his mind.
The veil had been broken. And Kaito was terrified of what lay beyond.