A week had passed since Sayuri's tragic death, and Kaito still couldn't shake the weight of grief that hung over him. Every day felt like he was walking through a fog, numb to everything around him. He couldn't bring himself to fully accept what had happened. Sayuri was gone. And even though he didn't blame himself, a part of him couldn't escape the fury that boiled inside him. He didn't blame himself, not directly—he blamed the man who had pushed Sayuri, the one responsible for pushing her into that fate.
Kaito sat in his dark room, the curtains drawn tight. The silence was deafening, but the noise inside his head was unbearable. He stared blankly at the wall, lost in his thoughts. The room felt colder, colder than usual, but it wasn't the chill of the air—it was the emptiness he felt inside, gnawing at him with every passing second.
He had been so sure he could protect her. So sure that, no matter what, Sayuri would be safe with him. But now... she was gone, and the memory of her smile, her laugh, was all that remained. The anger that burned inside him was aimed at the man who had pushed her, the one who had set off a chain of events that led to this.
Kaito's phone buzzed beside him, breaking his reverie. It was a message from Koji.
[Koji: Hey Kaito, come here. It was Sayuri's funeral today.]
Kaito stared at the message, his hands shaking slightly as he gripped the phone. His heart sank, and the guilt twisted in his gut. He knew he had to go. He had to pay his respects to Sayuri, even if it tore him apart to do so.
[Kaito: Alright, I'll come.]
He put the phone back down on the bed, unable to focus on anything anymore. It wasn't just about the funeral; it was about facing the reality of Sayuri's absence. The thought of it made his chest tighten, but he couldn't ignore it. Slowly, he dragged himself out of bed, the weight of the moment heavier than any burden he'd ever felt.
After showering, Kaito dressed in a simple black suit, the fabric stiff and unfamiliar against his skin. He looked at himself in the mirror, but he didn't recognize the person staring back at him. His face was hollow, his eyes sunken, bloodshot from sleepless nights. He barely recognized himself.
When he walked downstairs, his mother was waiting for him in the kitchen. Her eyes met his, and Kaito could see the same pain reflected in them—his mother was grieving too, though she tried to hide it. She was trying to hold it all together, for his sake. But Kaito knew better; he could see the cracks in her mask.
"Mom," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "Where's Riku?"
"He's at school," she replied softly.
"You're dressed. Where are you going?" She asked, though her voice was filled with understanding.
Kaito hesitated. "Sayuri's funeral."
His mother's face fell, and for a moment, it seemed like time itself stopped. She walked over to him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug, a silent offering of comfort. Her warmth, however, didn't quell the storm inside Kaito. His heart felt like it was being crushed under the weight of everything.
"It's hard to accept, isn't it?" she murmured softly, her voice trembling.
Kaito could feel the lump in his throat growing. The tears he had been holding back for days finally began to spill over. His chest tightened painfully, and he couldn't hold it in any longer. He crumpled in his mother's arms, his body shaking with the force of his grief.
"Yeah... Mom, I miss her so much," Kaito whispered through the sobs, his voice cracking. "Why? Why did she have to die? I promised... I promised I would protect her."
His mother held him tighter, rubbing his back in slow, steady circles. She didn't say anything for a while; she just let him cry, the soft sounds of his sorrow filling the room. It wasn't just the pain of losing Sayuri that hurt him. It was the anger, the guilt, the helplessness. He had failed her.
His hands gripped the fabric of his mother's shirt as his sobs grew louder, desperate. "I couldn't protect her, Mom. I should've done something, I should've stopped her from going near him. If I hadn't been so stupid, if I had just... just done something different..."
His mother gently pulled away, cupping his face in her hands, her eyes soft with concern. "You couldn't have known, Kaito. You did the best you could. This wasn't your fault."
But Kaito shook his head, his voice breaking. "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 she'd still be here. Maybe..." His voice trailed off, the weight of what he was saying crushing him. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tear apart everything around him and force the world to make sense again, but it didn't work that way.
His mother's hands were gentle as she wiped away his tears. "You are not responsible for what happened, Kaito. You have to understand that. There are things in this world that we cannot control, things that happen to us without reason. You can't change what happened. But you can keep her memory alive, and you can move forward."
Kaito's chest ached as he tried to hold back the tears, but they came anyway. He wanted to believe her words, but the anger and sadness were so overpowering, so relentless. His heart felt like it was going to shatter into a thousand pieces. "I just miss her so much," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
"I know," his mother whispered back, pulling him into another tight hug. "I know, sweetheart."
Kaito stopped in front of the door, his hands still shaking as he grabbed his bike. He turned to his mom, forcing a small smile through the tears. "See you later, Mom. After the funeral, I'll pick up your favorite food. I promise."
His mother smiled softly, though her eyes were still filled with sorrow. "Take care of yourself, Kaito. And be safe."
Kaito nodded, his heart aching as he left the house. As he pedaled down the street, his little sister Aiko came running up to his mother, her small voice calling out.
"Mom, where's Kaito going?"
His mother paused for a moment before answering. "He's going to Sayuri's funeral."
"Oh..." Aiko's voice trailed off, and though she didn't fully understand the weight of death, the sadness in the air hung heavy even for her.
---
When Kaito arrived at the funeral, the scene before him was surreal. He could see Koji standing with Mrs. Fujimori, who looked like a shell of the woman she once was. Her grief was palpable, hanging around her like a suffocating cloud. Kaito felt his throat tighten as he walked over to them.
"Koji," Kaito said softly, his voice hoarse.
"Hey, man," Koji replied quietly, offering a weak smile. "I know this is hard... but we'll get through it, together."
Kaito nodded, but the words felt hollow in his mouth. He turned to Mrs. Fujimori, whose eyes were red-rimmed, tears still fresh. He bowed deeply. "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 strong but her voice breaking. "Kaito, it's not your fault. You did everything you could. Please, don't blame yourself."
Kaito straightened up, his chest heavy. He walked over to Sayuri's picture, a framed photograph placed on an altar, and gently laid a white flower in front of it. A fresh wave of grief washed over him as he thought about her—her laugh, her smile, the way she used to light up the room. It felt wrong that she was gone.
As he turned to leave, something caught his eye. A red car was parked nearby. The same red car from the night before, the one that had been near Sayuri's house days before his death. The one that Kaito had seen in his memories. His pulse quickened as a chill ran down his spine.
It was familiar.
And then the memory hit him—sharp and vivid. A man in that same red car, smiling as he shot Kaito in the chest.
The world spun. Kaito staggered back, gasping for air. "What was that? Why do I feel like this?" His breath hitched in his throat. The memory wasn't a dream. It was a premonition... a warning.