Chapter 43: Let Me Fade

The place they landed was quiet. Not silent — just hushed, like an auditorium after the lights go down but before the curtain lifts. No sky. No floor. Just a horizon of soft gray, folding endlessly into itself. It was like standing inside the pause between two memories.

They were beside one another, their hands still connected. The weight of Ayaka's goodbye fell lightly on the surrounding air, like rain mist. Neither of them spoke for a considerable time. The air wasn't cold, but there was an abnormal pressure on it - like something about to come to light.

"Where are we now?" Hina wondered aloud.

Haruto slowly turned his head, eyes moving over the void-like distance. "I think. we're between the cycles."

A pulse rippled through the gray. Not sound. Not motion. Just presence.

Next – there was another figure.

Ayaka.

But not the garden's Ayaka. This one pulsed dimly, like a picture stuck between two projectors. Her outlines glowed with glitch-static, but not recklessly. She was standing in front of them, with the same uniform, same unwieldy hair, same watch on her wrist — but something was different with her eyes. Hard. Focused. Not gentle.

Hina's grip on Haruto's hand tightened.

Ayaka spoke.

"I told you to let me go."

Her tone was without malice — just fact.

Haruto moved a step closer involuntarily. "I did. You warned me not to anchor you, and I didn't."

Ayaka’s flickering intensified for a moment. Her lips barely moved.

"Then why am I still here?"

The question remained there, suspended amidst the static air like sunlit dust.

Haruto froze. "I. I don't know."

Ayaka slowly blinked. She shifted her head, the action a fraction late — like time virtually no longer worked for her. "The cycle closed. I should have dissolved. But something bound me."

Hina glared at Haruto. "You never latched onto her. On purpose."

"Not," he whispered.

Ayaka took a step forward. Everything moved like it was being refracted through water.

"I was created to be forgotten," she replied. "That was the bargain. I safeguarded you by going into the Archive. I entrusted the system with my name, face, future. I walked out voluntarily."

Haruto retreated, guilt washing over his chest. "Then what prompted you to come back?"

Ayaka's eyes fell on him. "You remembered me too well."

The statements weren't accusing ones. They were just facts. Just like gravity.

"You recalled the sound of my voice. The feel of my writing. The day I spent next to you because you were scared to say a word. You recalled all the threads."

She took another step forward. No track was left from her step, but what was around her darkened - as if denying her return.

"Every memory that you anchored created a ripple. Yours created a storm."

Haruto's chest tightened. He glared at Hina. She was pale with eyes flitting back and forth between them.

"What next?" he wanted to say. "What does it all mean?"

Ayaka’s face softened for the first time. "It means I never left. Not fully. I was erased from the system. But not from you. And that. broke something."

Haruto's heart fell. "I never wanted to break it."

Ayaka's expression was a gentle, amused-looking smile. "Nobody does it on purpose. But love doesn't play fair."

Hina let go of Haruto’s hand.

He approached her, but never winced. Her face wasn't scared — just serene. Accepting.

Ayaka's eyes moved to Hina. For the first time, something like sadness crossed her face.

"I never hated you," Ayaka said softly. "You were an outgrowth of his survival. That makes you more real than I ever was."

Hina dipped her head, just a tiny bit. "And still I'm the one fading away."

"Because I'm still here," said Ayaka. "And I shouldn't be."

She moved closer to Haruto. "Let me fade, Haruto. Seriously, this time. Not with desire. Not with guilt. Just release."

Haruto registered the shake in his own hands. Not fear—pain. He couldn't look at her eyes either. As if staring at a picture of an ex-lover who you still weren't able to compartmentalize.

“How do I forget you?" he told him.

“You never ever have to forget," Ayaka stated. "You just have to decide to stop choosing me.".

His chest hollowed at the words. Not because he didn’t understand — but because he finally did.

Ayaka’s image shimmered. The glitch at her edges began to soften, dimming, like a candle running out of air.

She looked back at Hina. "He's in love with you, you know."

“I do know that," replied Hina.

“And you'll be the one who'll stay back.”

Hina grasped Haruto's hand once more. "Both of us will. Just differently."

Ayaka smiled.

And then — without flash, without sound, without ripping — she slid back into the gray. Not torn or broken. Just. gone. As if she'd been a page between chapters all along.

The space where she stood rippled, then stilled.

Haruto stayed still. Breathing. Remembering. His pulse seemed to thrum through the room.

They settled in — not onto something, but the air itself became a seat beneath them. They were still for a moment.

Hina finally spoke.

"She seemed at peace."

"She was."

Haruto closed his eyes. He still could smell the hint of perfume she wore. The smudge of the writing pen with the ink on her paper notes. The way she inclined her head while expecting him to finish sentences.

"Skimming stones with Rachel was never going to go well,"he whispered.

"But it didn't," said Hina.

"It wasn't," he whispered back. "It was like grace."

Hina breathed out of her nose. "Do you regret having loved her?"

He shut his eyes. "No. I regret making her stay so it would mean something."

The world around them flickered. Shapes formed briefly — silhouettes of desks, chalkboards, old staircases, the rooftop fence. Then faded again.

Haruto took a step forward. "This is over, do you think?

"It's shifting, I think," Hina replied. "And do you think there's anything more possible than ending with change?"

He walked towards her.

“You're frightened I'll lose you as well?”

“I am," she replied. "But not more so than I am scared of being kept around for the incorrect reason.”

He smiled. "You never were. You were the reason I released my grip."

Hina's face turned slightly red. She turned away.

“I worried I'd always take second place to her," she admitted.

You weren't," Haruto said. "You were the first to stay."

He stood up, and so did she. They were before the blank horizon.

Behind them, the countdown clock kept ticking.

00:00:03

A wind stirred — the first motion that didn’t feel internal. It carried with it the sound of a bell.

None but the Original Bell.

This one was small.

Personal.

The sound of an old bell from a school. The type that announced lunch breaks and dismissal.

And it seemed like an invitation somehow.

Haruto held out his hand. Hina took it.

They moved on. Into the spot which still remained unwritten.

Towards the truth which has never been spoken.

They had no idea what followed next.

They were never more echoes.

They were the memory that remained.

And they were enough.