Chapter 7 — Rest

The inn was silent. Steam rose from the cup of tea in front of me, but I didn’t drink it.

Old Mrs. Yamamoto watched me from across the table, her worn eyes holding that look… as if she had always known something I didn’t.

“You look tired, Mizuno-san…” she said, stirring her bowl slowly. “Perhaps you should return to the city… life in the mountains can be exhausting.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if it was out of politeness or resignation.

Rest… what did that word even mean anymore? To turn away from the lake, from my family, from my memories? Or to let myself sink at last, like someone finally finding the perfect bed?

The city has nothing left for me. Only lies, betrayals, exploitation.

The lake, on the other hand, has given me a second chance… one I will never let slip away.

“Mrs. Yamamoto…” my voice trembled just slightly. “Tell me something… what would you choose?”

She tilted her head, not fully understanding.

“To live, dragging guilt like a monster…? Or to die, believing I was a good mother?”

The old woman didn’t answer. She only set her bowl aside and sighed, as if that question had been asked many times in this place, with no answer ever found.

Outside, the mist was beginning to lift. Weak sunlight filtered between the pines. A new day pushed its way through.

I pressed my fingers into my skirt, holding back the temptation to smile.

I left the inn and greeted the villagers. Behind me, I left a note.

When I reached the lake, my children were waiting at the shore, smiling at me.

“Are we going home now, Mommy?” Mari asked, stretching out her hand.

Oda looked up at me with shining eyes and lifted his arms, asking to be held.

“Yes, my loves…” I answered. “Let’s go home.”

I stepped slowly into the lake, letting its magic carry me back to that place where colors returned, where scents drew me in… and most of all, where my children were.
To me, that was paradise.

…

Days later, when she realized I hadn’t come back, Mrs. Yamamoto found a letter on the inn’s table. Her hands trembled as she opened it.

“If I haven’t returned, it’s because I found my home in this world. Thank you for everything.
Ayaka.”

The old woman remained silent, the paper crumpling in her hands. Outside, the mist once again covered Lake Tsukuyomi.

On its surface, just for an instant, she thought she saw the silhouette of a smiling family.

They say the lake holds ancient powers: that a kappa lives there, or the goddess of the moon, or sirens calling out to the unsuspecting.

But the truth is that memories are fragile, and the human mind, fascinating. You can never be certain if something is real, imagination… or “magic.”

The only certain thing is that Miss Mizuno was never found.

But Lake Tsukuyomi keeps its secrets.
Sometimes, when the fog thickens and the wind falls still, I swear I can hear a murmur at the shore.

A murmur that whispers my name.

Perhaps it is the voice of the water.

Perhaps… only my own memory.