We walked away from the arcade for the last time that day. In Sina's arms, the little blue bear, Agent Blue, was held like a sacred artifact. In my pocket, the googly-eyed cat keychain felt impossibly heavy.
The energy of our victory had faded, replaced by the soft, melancholy mood of the setting sun. The sky was bleeding into shades of orange and pink, a breathtaking painting that felt like a timer counting down.
The Golden Hour. The photographers called it that because it made everything beautiful. For me, it was the cruelest time of day. It was the beautiful end to something that would be gone in the morning.
We found ourselves on a bridge overlooking a small, lazy river that cut through the city. We leaned against the railing, the cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of the fading day.
Sina was quiet, watching the water reflect the sky's fiery colors. She hugged Agent Blue a little tighter.
"It's pretty, isn't it?" she said softly, not looking at me. "I feel like I should remember seeing this before, but I don't."
Each word was a tiny, perfect little knife.
You have, I wanted to say. We stood right here on Day 23. You said the sunset looked like spilled sorbet. On Day 61, you pointed out a family of ducks swimming by.
But all I said was, "Yeah. It is."
She finally turned to me, her amber eyes reflecting the sunset, making them look like pools of liquid gold. Her smile was small and thoughtful.
"Thank you, Kelin," she said, her voice sincere. "For... all of this. For the legendary custard, and the space cat, and the dancing, and for helping me defeat the bear mafia." She paused, her gaze dropping to the notebook that was peeking out of her bag. "I... I don't have a lot of days like this."
My throat closed up. "It was the quest," I managed to say, my voice rougher than I intended. "It was prophesied."
She chuckled softly, a sound like rustling leaves. She then did what I was both hoping for and dreading. She took out her leather-bound notebook and pen.
SCRITCH. SCRATCH.
Sitting on a nearby bench, she began to write. I watched, my heart hammering a slow, painful rhythm against my ribs.
I couldn't see the words, but I could imagine them. Distilling our entire day, our shared adventure, into a few bullet points for a stranger.
Met a boy. Kelin Ishida.
Funny. Says he works for his cat, Mr. Snugglesworth.
Ate legendary custard taiyaki.
Listened to a sad song that felt important.
Won a blue bear from a claw machine. Named him Blue.
All the laughter, the unspoken understanding in the record store, the feeling of our hands together on the joystick, the warmth of her impulsive hug—all of it, gone. Replaced by a cold, factual summary. It was an instruction manual for a life she hadn't lived.
And yet... she was writing it down so carefully. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, as if committing every detail to the page was the most important thing in the world.
Because for her, it was.
It was her only defense against the coming night. Her only bridge to herself.
She looked up and caught me staring. I looked away quickly, my face burning.
"Sorry," I mumbled.
"It's okay," she said, her voice gentle. "I was just trying to get it all down. To make sure I... don't forget how good today was." She looked at what she'd written, a small frown on her face. "It's never enough, though. Reading it isn't the same as remembering it, is it?"
I swallowed, the lump in my throat feeling as big as a fist.
"No," I whispered. "It's not."
She closed the book with a soft sigh and stood up, the day officially committed to paper, sealed for the future. "I should probably get going. My friend... she worries."
Sora. Of course. Her fierce, loving guardian.
We walked to the bus stop in a comfortable, heavy silence. The streetlights flickered on one by one, tiny stars against the deepening purple sky.
When the bus hissed to a stop, its headlights cutting through the dusk, it felt like a guillotine.
She turned to me, clutching Agent Blue and her notebook. "Well... this is me."
This was it. The last moment of Day 78.
"Will I... see you at school tomorrow, Messenger-san?" she asked, a hopeful, curious light in her eyes. The question was a simple pleasantry for her. For me, it was a philosophical torment.
Yes, you'll see me. But I won't be me. I'll be a stranger. Again.
I forced the brightest smile I could manage. "The day isn't over yet, but Mr. Snugglesworth's prophecies are already pointing towards tomorrow," I said, falling back into the character that had won her over this morning. "He seems to think my mission is far from over."
Her smile was beautiful, luminous in the bus's headlights. "Good. Well... 'til tomorrow, then."
She got on the bus. She found a seat by the window and gave me one last small, perfect wave before the doors closed.
WHOOSH. PSSSHHT.
The bus pulled away, carrying her, and Agent Blue, and her notebook full of our ghost-memories, into the night.
I stood there, alone at the bus stop, long after its red taillights had disappeared. The cheap plastic keychain in my pocket suddenly felt like the only real thing in the world. It was the only proof I had that today had even happened.
My smile dissolved. The ache in my chest, the one I'd been holding back all day, flooded through me, heavy and cold.
It was the best day. Just like the seventy-seven before it.
And I was the only one who would ever know.
Tomorrow, I'd have to do it all over again.
Tomorrow was Day 79. And I already missed her.