For the past five days, Nagisa hadn't left Nyoko's grave.
He would sit beside it for hours, speaking to her as if she could still hear him—never expecting an answer in return.
And like every day before, today he sat once again by her side, leaning against the headstone with his eyes closed, imagining her sitting there next to him.
He began to speak in a low voice, heavy with sorrow.
"I feel like I'm drowning… and no one is coming to save me. Where are you now? I need you more than anything"
He slowly opened his eyes, lifting his gaze towards the sky— partly clouded, but not yet raining.
As if it, too, was bracing for a storm.
Nagisa pushed himself up to his feet, his eyes falling on the headstone as though it was her face.
He bid her farewell in silence, then began to walk away…
Not knowing where he was going, or where he should be.
All he knew was that his legs… were moving on their own.
He walked with slouched shoulders, his eyes empty—void of meaning or emotion.
He stopped in front of the old bar he used to visit with his friends in the past,
every weekend, or whenever there was something worth celebrating.
Drawn in by the memories, he stepped inside and took his usual seat near the corner—but this time, he was alone. No one beside him.
He looked up, expecting to see the old man who used to greet him warmly every time.
But instead, he was met with the sight of a beautiful blonde woman standing behind the counter.
She smiled at him gently and spoke in a soft, pleasant voice.
"How can I help you, sir?"
A faint shiver ran through Nagisa's body—something about her voice felt oddly familiar, though he couldn't quite place where he'd heard it before.
He shook his head, pushing away the sensation.
His grief was stronger than anything else—stronger than memory, stronger than doubt.
He lowered his gaze and spoke in a tired, quiet voice.
"Some sake… please."
"Right away."
She answered politely, prepared the drink, and placed it before him.
Nagisa took the small glass and downed it in one gulp.
His face twisted at the bitter taste of the alcohol—but he couldn't help but notice…
it tasted even more bitter than usual. Still…
He didn't care.
***
On the other side of town, Haruki sat alone at home.
He was supposed to spend the day with his father—but Nagisa had left in the morning… and still hadn't returned.
It was already past eight in the evening.
Haruki sat in front of the television, watching a cartoon show meant to be funny for someone his age, trying to distract himself—to lose himself in a world free of worries.
Then suddenly…
he heard the door handle turning from the outside.
The sound lit up his face with joy.
He thought—finally—his father had come back.
He jumped off the couch and ran out of the room to greet him, but the sight that met him at the door made him take a step back.
His father was drunk.
He staggered with each step, swaying side to side. His clothes were loose, disheveled, and his cheeks were flushed.
Nagisa stumbled toward Haruki with unstable steps until he stood right in front of him.
Haruki looked up at his father's face, his wide eyes filled with fear and hesitation.
He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt sleeves,stepping back every time his father drew closer.
"Dad…"
Haruki called out in a trembling voice, hoping for a gentle response—or at the very least,
one that wouldn't terrify his fragile little heart.
___
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