Chapter 29 : Not all scars are visible, not all bonds can heal

The sun hung low, its light bleeding gold across the cracked pavement and crumbling buildings of the old district. Dust danced in the wind like fleeting spirits, and somewhere in the distance, a bell rang—faint, like a memory trying to echo back into life.

The old district had always felt haunted, but today it seemed more than that. It seemed sacred. As if time itself had paused to witness what was about to unfold.

Mikuya stood near the mouth of an alleyway, her figure half-sunk into shadow, the edge of her hood casting darkness across her face. She didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Her presence was still and quiet, like a ghost lingering in the world of the living. The faded texture of her coat blended with the aging walls around her, almost as if she were part of the city itself.

She hadn’t meant to be seen.

But fate had other plans.

Nene was the first to notice. Her steps slowed, then halted, mid-laugh at something Hana had said. The laughter died on her lips. Her eyes narrowed. Focused. Locked on the figure cloaked in silence.

"...Mi?" she whispered, as if afraid the name itself might shatter the fragile moment.

The others turned, puzzled by Nene's sudden stillness.

Hana followed her gaze. Her expression shifted instantly—from confusion to disbelief to something almost like fear. Emiko’s hand shot up to her mouth, and Yuka, always the calmest among them, took a slow step forward, her gaze soft but questioning.

There she was. The girl who had vanished without warning. The one they had cried for, searched for, fought rumors about. The one they thought might never return.

Time seemed to hold its breath. The world shrank around the five of them—school buildings, streets, passersby—all faded to background noise. There was only this moment now. Only her.

Nene's voice trembled as she took another step forward. "Mi Kuya... is that really you?"

Still, the hooded figure didn’t move. Didn’t answer. But something in her posture shifted—subtle, a flicker. A barely-perceptible tension in her shoulders. She had heard them.

Hana stepped closer, her brows knitting together. "You disappeared. We thought you—" Her voice cracked. "We thought you were gone."

Silence.

Not the peaceful kind. Not the comforting hush of understanding. No—this silence was sharp. It stung. It hurt.

Emiko, the firebrand among them, suddenly couldn’t hold her tongue. "You owe us something, damn it! A word. A sign. Anything!" Her fists shook at her sides. "You can’t just vanish and then pretend we don’t exist."

The wind picked up, brushing Mikuya's coat like fingers trying to pull her back into the present. Her hood fluttered slightly, revealing a lock of her once-vibrant hair, now dulled by time and wear. Still, she didn’t turn.

But her hands—they curled slightly. Her fingers twitched at her sides. And then, after what felt like forever, she took a breath and shifted—just a fraction—turning her head to the side.

For the first time in months, they saw her face.

But it wasn’t the same.

The spark in her eyes, the laughter that used to dance in her smile—gone. What remained was a girl carved by struggle, wrapped in layers of pain and guilt. She looked older, heavier. Not in body, but in soul.

Yuka stepped forward, her voice barely above a whisper. "Mi... please. Whatever you’ve been through, we don’t have to understand it all right now. We just want you back. We want to help you heal."

There it was—a flicker. A trace of the girl they knew. Mikuya’s eyes softened for just a heartbeat. Her lips parted, almost like she might speak.

The wind shifted again. Cold. Relentless.

And something inside her closed.

Her gaze hardened. The wall came back up.

She turned away.

"No," she said softly—so soft, it barely reached them. "You can’t."

Then she started walking—one step, then another—deeper into the alleyway, into the shadows that had become her second skin.

"Mi Kuya!" Nene cried, stepping forward. Her voice was thick with desperation.

But Hana caught her arm, gently pulling her back.

"Let her go," Hana said. "If we push now, she’ll run further."

They watched helplessly as Mikuya disappeared into the dim-lit streets, her silhouette swallowed by dusk.

No goodbye. No explanation. Only silence.

And in that silence, something fractured—quietly, but undeniably. The bond that once tied them all together had unraveled more than they realized.

Mikuya wasn’t just lost.

She was changing.

And if they didn’t act soon, the girl they loved might never return.

The silence lingered even after she was gone. It clung to the four of them like a fog. They remained there, rooted in place, unsure what to say, what to do, how to feel.

Nene finally broke it, her voice barely a whisper. "She looked... hurt. Not just outside. Inside."

"She looked like she hadn’t slept in days," Yuka said.

"She looked like she didn’t want to come back," Emiko added. "Like she was forced to be here."

Hana rubbed her arms, trying to chase away the chill. "Maybe she was. Maybe she’s running from something. Or someone."

They exchanged glances. All of them thinking the same thing, but none daring to say it aloud.

The question that haunted them: What happened to Mikuya?

The answer wasn’t one any of them were ready for.

But they would find it.

They had to.

Because whatever had happened to their friend—whatever shadows had crept into her life—they weren’t going to let her face them alone.

Not again.