Chapter 12: The Confession Delivered

Haruto had spent the entire day restless, the diary never leaving his school bag. The cosmos flower was pressed between its final page, its petals fragile and ready to crumble at the slightest touch. Every time he opened it, Yui’s voice seemed to echo in his heart, a whisper he couldn’t let fade.

But tonight, he had made up his mind.

He couldn’t keep her wish locked away in silence. If Yui had carried her feelings to her grave, then the least he could do was make sure they reached the one who was meant to hear them.

---

The next morning, Haruto skipped cram school and boarded a local train bound for the neighboring town. The seat beside him stayed empty, though he swore he could feel Yui’s presence lingering there, humming softly the way she always did when she was with him.

His destination was a small stationery store tucked between two narrow streets. It took asking around—an elderly grocer, a few kids on bicycles—before he finally found it.

The bell above the door jingled, and the faint smell of ink and old paper filled his nose. Behind the counter stood a man in his late twenties, sleeves rolled up, hands stained faintly with pen ink. His hair was swept carelessly aside, but his eyes were kind, gentle, the kind of gaze that once must have felt like a safe harbor to Yui.

Haruto’s breath caught. This is him…

The man looked up, puzzled. “Can I help you?”

Haruto gripped the diary in both hands, summoning his courage. “Were you… were you classmates with a girl named Yui Aoyama?”

The man froze. His expression softened as he set aside the ledger he’d been writing in. “…Yui? It’s been years since I’ve heard that name. She was… a sweet girl. She… passed away before graduation, didn’t she?”

Haruto swallowed hard. “Yes. And… she left something behind. For you.”

Slowly, he set the diary and the pressed cosmos on the counter. The man’s hands trembled as he touched the worn cover, almost afraid it would vanish if he held it too tightly. He opened the first page, and his lips moved silently, tracing her handwriting as though reacquainting himself with a voice he’d long forgotten.

Minutes passed, broken only by the quiet turning of pages. Then his eyes landed on the final entry. His shoulders shook.

“…She… she really felt that way?” His voice cracked, eyes brimming. “All this time, I never knew… I thought she was just another quiet classmate, someone I barely had a chance to talk to. But—she…”

Haruto bowed his head. “She wanted her wish to reach you. Even if it was too late. Even if the years kept passing.”

The man closed the diary, pressing it against his chest like a lost treasure finally found. Tears slid down his cheeks freely now, staining the pages. “Yui… thank you. Thank you for loving someone like me.”

Haruto didn’t mention ghosts, didn’t explain the nights he had spent speaking with her. That was his secret—his bond. All the man needed was the truth of her feelings, not the burden of her lingering spirit.

When Haruto finally left the store, the man was still standing there, clutching the diary as if it were a heartbeat he never wanted to let go.

---

That night, Haruto climbed to the school rooftop. The city was hushed, a pale moon hanging above. He half-expected emptiness, silence.

But she was there.

Yui stood by the railing, her form glowing faintly, more luminous than ever before. The sadness that had always shadowed her eyes seemed lighter, replaced with a calm serenity.

“Haruto-kun.” Her voice drifted like a breeze, soft and warm.

He took a step closer, breath trembling. “Yui… I found him. I gave him your diary. He knows now. He knows everything.”

Her smile wavered, tears gathering but never falling. “You did what I couldn’t. You gave my heart a voice.”

The sight of her like this—so radiant, so close yet so unreachable—cut deep into Haruto’s chest. “But if your wish is fulfilled… does that mean… you’ll leave me?”

Yui lowered her gaze, then walked toward him, each step scattering faint glimmers of light across the rooftop. When she reached him, she raised her hand, brushing her fingers against his cheek. He felt the faintest warmth, like a memory of touch.

“Every meeting has an ending,” she whispered. “But endings don’t erase what we had. You’ll carry it with you. That’s enough.”

Haruto’s throat tightened. “It’s not enough for me. I… I wanted more time. I wanted—”

Before his words could unravel, Yui leaned in and pressed a kiss against his forehead. A feather-light, fleeting touch.

“Thank you,” she said softly, “for loving me in your own way.”

The wind rose suddenly, sweeping across the rooftop. Petals—he didn’t know from where—danced in the air, whirling like fragments of spring. Yui’s form shimmered, light scattering as though the night sky itself was reclaiming her.

“Wait—Yui!” Haruto reached out, but his hand passed through her fading figure.

She smiled one last time, her lips shaping silent words he couldn’t hear, before her body dissolved into pure radiance. The glow lingered for a heartbeat, then dispersed into the night sky, leaving Haruto standing alone beneath the stars.

His knees buckled, and he clutched his chest, the echo of her touch still warm against his skin. The cosmos flower, fragile and eternal, seemed to bloom again in his memory.

Even if she was gone, even if their story had ended, Yui’s wish had taken root. And Haruto knew—he would never forget her.