Chapter 22 — “The Train to Nowhere”

The train hummed through the darkness, its wheels clattering against the tracks like distant thunder.

Himari pressed her forehead to the cold window, the city lights shrinking into streaks of orange and white.

Outside, the world had already moved on, but inside the carriage, time had stopped.

Mizuki leaned against her shoulder, damp hair clinging to her face. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps.

> “Are we… really running away?” Himari asked, voice barely audible over the train.

Mizuki’s hand found hers. Fingers laced together, trembling slightly.

> “Yes,” she whispered. “We’re leaving it all behind. Every rumor, every accusation… every lie. Only us now.”

Himari felt the pull of fear and something darker—possessive, intoxicating.

It wasn’t just that they were escaping; it was that Mizuki depended on her entirely.

Her heartbeat quickened at the thought, as though fear itself had become a form of intimacy.

---

The carriage was nearly empty. Only a few passengers sat scattered, absorbed in their own worlds.

Himari could feel the weight of the world pressing from the outside, the judgment, the whispers, the police investigation—it was all gone, or at least temporarily suspended.

Mizuki rested her head against Himari’s shoulder, eyes half-closed.

> “I can’t believe you’re here,” she murmured. “That you stayed.”

Himari’s hand traced a line along Mizuki’s arm.

> “I can’t leave you,” she admitted.

Mizuki’s lips curved faintly.

> “Good. I need you to understand that I… I can’t survive without you. If you leave me… it’ll kill me.”

Himari shivered at the confession, at the rawness of it.

It was beautiful. It was dangerous. It was exactly what she feared and craved at the same time.

> “And I don’t want you to survive without me either,” Himari whispered.

Mizuki’s eyes opened slowly, dark and luminous.

> “Then we belong together,” she said. “No matter where this train goes, we’ll be the only ones who exist. You and me. Always.”

Himari pressed her lips to the top of Mizuki’s damp head, holding her closer as the train swayed.

The motion was hypnotic. The darkness outside mirrored the uncertainty inside her chest.

---

They shared silence, punctuated by small confessions.

Mizuki spoke of her childhood by the sea, of her home that no longer felt like home, of the waves she had once walked along, alone.

Himari listened, memorizing the cadence of her words, the tremor in her voice, the way she laughed softly at memories tinged with sadness.

> “One day,” Mizuki said quietly, “I want us to live there. Far away from all of this. Only the sea, the wind, and you.”

Himari nodded, imagining the salt air on her skin, the sound of waves crashing against cliffs, the endless horizon.

> “Then we’ll go,” she promised.

But even as she spoke, a tight knot of dread formed in her stomach.

They were running, yes—but running toward what?

The world could not be erased. The past could not be outrun.

---

Hours passed. The landscape outside was a blur of black and gray.

The train seemed suspended in time, carrying them further from reality and deeper into the cocoon they had created.

Mizuki fell asleep against Himari, her body warm and fragile, still trembling from fear and adrenaline.

Himari stared at her, memorizing every detail: the curve of her jaw, the line of her collarbone, the soft rise and fall of her chest.

A part of her wanted to freeze this moment forever, to lock it away and never return to the world outside.

> “I’m scared,” Himari whispered, more to herself than Mizuki.

Mizuki stirred, eyes half-lidded, and smiled faintly.

> “Good. You should be. Because fear… fear reminds us we’re alive. And alive, we can love each other. Truly, completely.”

Himari’s hand squeezed hers.

> “Then I’ll never let you go.”

Mizuki hummed softly, a lullaby only she knew.

The sound filled the carriage, wrapping around Himari like a cocoon.

---

By dawn, the train began to slow. The first hints of the seaside town appeared through mist and fog.

Faint outlines of the shore, the sound of gulls in the distance, the smell of salt and seaweed carried on the wind.

Mizuki stirred again, blinking in the pale light.

> “We’re here,” she said softly, almost reverently.

Himari looked at the town—quiet, abandoned in the early morning, untouched by the chaos they had left behind.

> “Then this is it,” she said.

> “Our paradise,” Mizuki whispered, leaning against her.

Himari swallowed the lump in her throat. She could feel the future closing in, inevitable and dark.

But for now, just for this moment, there was only the warmth of Mizuki against her, the lull of the train, and the unspoken promise that they were together—fugitives of the world, captives of their own love.

The train hissed to a stop, and they stepped out into the gray light of morning.

The sea stretched endlessly ahead, the waves pounding relentlessly.

Himari could feel the pull of inevitability, but also the pulse of devotion, raw and unyielding.

> “We’re here,” Mizuki whispered again, squeezing her hand.

“We’re together.”

And for a fleeting moment, Himari believed it.