CH10 Everything Must Come to an End

As we walked away from the Ferris wheel, the warm afterglow of the kiss lingered, but the air between us grew heavier with each step. Neither of us spoke, the earlier boldness replaced by a shy silence, both of us unsure of what to say after such an intense moment. I felt Aya’s presence beside me, comforting in its own strange way, but also tinged with the fear of what the future held.

Then I saw it.

In the distance, something—or someone—stood, staring directly at us. At first, I couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing. It was a small figure, no taller than a child, draped in a yellow hoodie. But what truly caught my attention wasn’t just the hoodie or his size—it was the thick, black aura that seemed to emanate from him, dark and suffocating. His eyes, sharp and predatory, gleamed under the dim light of the amusement park. He had an unsettling grin on his face, one that sent a cold shiver down my spine.

And in his hand, he held something that made my blood run cold: a scythe. A long, menacing blade that was far too large for his small frame, yet he carried it with ease. The polished metal of the scythe gleamed under the lights, reflecting a sickly sheen.

I couldn’t breathe. My feet refused to move, as if the very sight of him rooted me to the spot. Time seemed to slow, the noise of the amusement park fading into a distant hum, replaced by the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

He started walking toward us.

Each step he took seemed to ripple through the air, making my stomach churn with dread. The aura surrounding him grew darker, more oppressive, the closer he got. His grin never faltered, eyes never leaving us, as if he knew something we didn’t.

Aya, too, had gone silent beside me. Her usual playful energy was gone, replaced by an unease that mirrored my own. I glanced at her, and for the first time, I saw fear in her eyes—real, tangible fear. It struck me like a punch to the gut.

“Aya…” I whispered, my voice shaky. “Who… who is that?”

Her lips trembled as she stared at the figure approaching. “I… I don’t know,” she whispered back, her voice barely audible. “But I can feel it… he’s not human.”

The kid—or whatever it was—kept coming closer, his steps steady, deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world. His grin widened, showing teeth, and the scythe in his hand gleamed even brighter, as though it was hungry.

I tried to move, to grab Aya and run, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. Fear had locked me in place, my heart hammering in my chest, my mind screaming at me to do something, anything. But all I could do was watch as the figure closed the distance, his gaze fixed on us like a predator eyeing its prey.

He walked toward us, swinging the scythe with an eerie grace, but as the blade came close, it vanished into thin air. I froze, my heart in my throat, as he stopped directly in front of Aya. The tension between us was unbearable, my pulse pounding in my ears.

His eyes, dark and hollow, bore into Aya’s. There was no mistaking it—this wasn’t just some spirit. There was a malevolent force behind those eyes, something beyond the realm of the ghost I had encountered so far.

“Your time is near,” he said, his voice low, like a child trying to mimic an adult’s. “I’ll be back to get you.”

His words chilled me to my core. He didn’t linger, didn’t give us a chance to react. With a single, fluid step, he passed through Aya, his form dissolving into the crowd as if he was never there at all. The world around us came back into focus—the sounds of the amusement park, the flashing lights, and the laughter of people oblivious to what had just transpired. But none of it seemed real anymore.

Suddenly, the weight of what had happened hit me, and my legs gave out. I dropped to my knees, the shock overwhelming me. My body felt limp, drained of all strength. I looked up at Aya, my voice shaking as I asked, "Who was he?"

Aya stood frozen, her usual brightness dimmed by the fear in her eyes. “I... I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice barely holding together. “But... he said my time was near. Will he... will he take me away?”

Her words were laced with fear, and my heart sank. The very thought of losing her felt like a punch to the gut. I struggled to stand, gripping the ground to steady myself as I tried to think of something, anything, to comfort her.

“I won’t let that happen,” I said, my voice firm despite the uncertainty gnawing at me. “We’ll figure this out. There has to be a way.”

But deep down, I knew this was a new danger, one I wasn’t sure how to face. The reality of what the boy said, of what he represented, was terrifying. He wasn’t just a random threat. He was a warning, a shadow of something far darker that was coming for Aya.

And I wasn’t sure how long we had left.

It's been days since that eerie encounter with the boy in the yellow hoodie, and every moment since has been a struggle. I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out what to do next, sleepless nights stretching into restless days. Every time I look at Aya, a wave of heartache crashes over me. The thought of losing her feels unbearable, but at the same time, I know she’s already been through enough suffering.

I don’t want her to be taken away by some unknown force, some being that seems beyond my control. If she’s going to leave, I want it to be her choice, her will—not something forced upon her by some twisted fate. But no matter how much I try to fight it, I can’t deny the growing dread in my chest.

Why is this happening? Why does everything seem to be slipping through my fingers? What did I do to deserve this kind of pain?

I’ve spent nights crying in secret, not wanting to worry Aya, trying to hide how much this is

breaking me. I’m supposed to be strong for her, but inside, I feel like I’m falling apart. The truth is, we’re not even close to finding out the full story of her memories. There are still so many pieces missing, and now, before we’ve even had the chance to figure it out, it feels like she’s going to be taken away.

Every day is a battle against the overwhelming feeling of helplessness, a constant fight to hold onto the hope that somehow, some way, we’ll find a solution. But that fear—that looming threat of losing her—is like a weight I can’t shake. I don’t know how much longer I can keep it together.

I just want more time with her.

These past few days, Aya has been acting like everything is fine, going through the motions of daily life as if nothing has changed. She laughs, plays games, and even teases me like she always does. On the surface, she seems okay. But I know better. I can see it in the way she stares out the window when she thinks I’m not looking, or how her smile falters just a little when she thinks of something else. Deep inside, she’s struggling. The fear of being taken away—it’s

gnawing at her, even if she doesn’t say it out loud.

If this is hard for me, I can only imagine how much harder it is for her. She’s the one who might disappear. She’s the one facing the unknown, not knowing if she'll still be here tomorrow or the next day. I hate it. I hate that I can’t do more, that I can’t protect her from whatever is coming.

I want to ease her pain. I want to make her feel safe, but I don’t know how. What can I say or do to make her feel better, when even I don’t have the answers?

Still, I can’t let her face this alone. I’ve been thinking—maybe it’s not about finding the perfect words or a solution. Maybe it’s about being there for her, no matter what. Even if I can’t change the outcome, I can make sure she doesn’t go through this by herself. That’s all I can do, right?

But... how do I make her feel that? How do I show her that she’s not alone, that I’ll be with her every step of the way, even when I’m terrified of losing her?

As I lost myself in thought, my phone suddenly rang, jolting me back to reality. I glanced over at Aya, who was still sitting in front of the TV. She looked at me, and our eyes met for a moment— there was something in that look, something fragile, like we both knew time was slipping through our fingers.

I reached for my phone and saw that Saki was calling. My heart skipped. What could she want? I quickly answered.

"Hello?" I said, trying to sound calm.

"Hey, it’s Saki," she replied, her voice steady but carrying a weight that piqued my curiosity.

"Yeah," I responded, unsure of what was coming next.

"Are you free today? There’s something I want to talk to you about," she said, her tone holding

a seriousness that made me instinctively tense.

"Uh, sure. What’s up?" I asked, already feeling a strange sense of urgency.

"Remember the park where you said you found the photo? Meet me there. We need to talk,"

she said, her voice firm, almost like she knew something I didn’t. "Alright. I’ll be there," I replied.

As I hung up, I glanced back at Aya. This could be a clue—something about her lost memories. I had to find out what Saki knew.

Aya and I arrived at the park right on time. I sat down on an old wooden bench while she sat beside me, her arm brushing against mine. The soft warmth of her presence, even though I couldn’t feel it physically, was comforting. I looked over at the large, ancient tree nearby, its

branches sprawling wide. It was the same tree where I found the photo. Kids were playing on the seesaw nearby, laughing without a care in the world. For a second, I imagined Aya and Saki as kids playing just like them, unaware of the heavy realities they would face one day.

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through my thoughts. "Hey! Sorry for the wait," Saki called out, her voice carrying from not too far away.

I turned and gave her a small nod. "It’s no big deal. I just got here."

She smiled politely and sat down on the other side of me, keeping a comfortable distance. We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of whatever she had to say hanging in the air.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" I finally asked, breaking the stillness. My curiosity was growing—especially after our last conversation.

Saki leaned back, looking up at the branches of the tree, as if gathering her thoughts. "This place takes me back," she said, her voice softer now. "It’s nice to be a kid. No worries, no big decisions, no fear of losing the people you care about."

I nodded, unsure of how to respond. "Yeah."

She took a deep breath, her eyes still on the tree. "See, it’s been bugging me. Honestly, I... I didn’t tell you the truth last time about Mika."

Her words hit me like a sudden gust of wind. "Huh?" I turned to face her, startled by her confession.

She looked down, fidgeting with her hands as if struggling with what to say next. "Yes, it’s just... I wasn’t sure if you were telling the truth when you said you played here with us as kids. It didn’t sit right with me. I don’t remember you, and it made me wonder if you were lying or if you were just mistaken."

I didn’t know how to respond, but I could see the conflict in her eyes. She wasn’t accusing me,

but it was clear she was wrestling with something deeper.

"But it’s been bugging me for days, and I can’t shake the feeling that I should’ve told you

everything about Mika from the start," Saki added, her voice laced with guilt.

Aya, sitting beside me, stayed silent. But I knew she was listening intently, her invisible presence adding to the tension in the air. Saki’s confession hung between us, and I knew that whatever she had kept hidden about Mika might change everything.