Chapter 3.1: Ryu's Silent Struggle

After the storm of Rose's death, life slowly resumed around Ryu, but for him, the days felt like smoke—shapeless, scentless, and stinging to the eyes. He returned to school, to the routines and the empty chair beside him in homeroom, but the weight in his chest never lifted.

He tried. He really did.

But Rose’s laughter echoed in the corridors. Her absence screamed louder than any presence ever could. He couldn’t concentrate in class. Words blurred on the blackboard. Even when his teachers asked questions, he gave half-hearted answers. His classmates, aware of what had happened, no longer teased or nudged him. Instead, they offered quiet sympathies—a pat on the back, a soft look, or an invitation he always declined.

“Come with us, Ryu,” one friend would say. “Let’s grab some ramen. It’ll help.”

But he would only shake his head and mutter, “Maybe next time.”

They understood. Rose had been more than just a friend to him.

One weekend, he took the train to the town where she had died. The same winding roads. The same hazy sky. The same broken part of him that had brought him there. He sat by the river near the forested mountain trails, the place locals had whispered about. He closed his eyes, hoping to feel closer to her.

“Still searching for something, kid?”

Ryu turned. The voice was familiar. It was the taxi driver—the same one who had taken him to the hospital the day he received the call.

“You…”

“I remember you. You ran like hell and didn’t pay,” the man said, chuckling, but then softened. “Not that I blamed you.”

The driver sat beside him, pulling out a pack of gum and offering a piece. Ryu took it silently.

“You know,” the driver said, staring at the river, “there’s a temple not too far from here. Folks around here believe that if you visit it before sunrise and make a wish with a pure heart, it might just come true.”

Ryu didn’t respond. His eyes remained locked on the flowing water.

“You look like someone with a heavy heart,” the driver continued. “If it’s about her… maybe it’s worth a try.”

“…What’s the catch?” Ryu asked quietly.

“There’s no catch,” the driver replied. “Just believe. And maybe… the right kind of pain.”

Ryu finally turned to face him. “Will it bring her back?”

“I don’t know. But if your wish is pure enough—who’s to say what’s possible?”

The driver stood up and dusted off his pants. “Come on. I’ll drop you at the train station. You can decide the rest.”

Ryu hesitated, then stood and followed.

As the taxi sped down the lonely road, the sky began to darken, and the driver said nothing more. When they reached the train station, he parked without a word.

Ryu opened the door slowly. The night breeze brushed his face.

“If you really want to see her again,” the driver said softly, “go before sunrise. The mountain path starts just behind the old torii gate.”

Ryu nodded, stepped out, and turned back just once. “Thanks.”

The driver gave him a slight nod. “Good luck, kid.”

The taxi disappeared into the night, and Ryu stood alone—caught between a world of pain and a sliver of impossible hope.

To be continued…