Ishikawa-san.

I was walking through the driving rain, my umbrella serving as minimal defense against the sheer volume of water falling from the sky. The cold didn't matter. The soaking uniform didn't matter. All that mattered was the sudden, breathtaking clarity that had flooded my mind after Ueno's dad finished his unbelievable story.

The name he wrote down for me, the name found in a blanket with a candy-surrounded baby, was now the destination of my frantic sprint.

I followed the rain-slicked pavement to the small, overgrown cemetery. It was exactly where the dad’s story led. And there it was, right in front of me: a simple, moss-covered tombstone.

Engraved on the stone:

ISHIKAWA YUUKA

The tomb was dirty, like no one had tended to it in decades, save for the ghostly presence that had been unable to leave.

"Well," I muttered, the rain washing over my face. "Let's finally put her to rest."

I pulled out my phone, a final, necessary tool for this weird, modern-day exorcism. I opened the Camera app and turned it around for a selfie.

And she was there. Ishikawa Yuuka.

Right behind me, close enough that her ripped, damp clothes almost brushed my backpack. The screen illuminated both of us—me, drenched and resolute, and her, weeping and pale. I didn't scream. I wasn't even afraid. I knew the truth now. The fear had been replaced by a dizzying sense of cosmic responsibility.

I closed the camera app, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. When I opened them, I turned around. She was less than a foot away.

"Hello, Ishikawa-san," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline.

For the first time, she wasn't crying. Her messy hair parted slightly, and I could finally see her eyes. They were large, gentle, and brown—the same, exact shape and color as Ueno's. I let out a small, relieved chuckle.

"I'm sorry for mistaking you," I continued. "You're not the Ubume that crushes people with stones. You are the 'kobesute yurēi,' the one that adores her child dearly. Or should I say, Ueno?"

Yuuka didn't flinch. She just stood there, listening intently, a silent spirit acknowledging the recognition of her true nature.

"You couldn't rest in peace because you were watching over her," I stated, the realization solidifying my purpose. "And you were 'haunting'—no, following me—because you thought I was worthy of protecting Ueno, right?"

Yuuka tilted her head slightly, maintaining an intense, unblinking focus. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. Our eyes were locked now.

"And you moved in the station mirror," I pressed on, a smile spreading across my face, "because you wanted to see how I would react. You needed to confirm my protective instinct."

Yuuka's gaze softened, her lips pulling into a faint, gentle expression. It was like watching a decades-old photograph slowly gain color.

Then, she spoke. Her voice was young and mature, like a comforting whisper of the past.

"Yes."

She looked me up and down, a satisfied final appraisal. "From the first time I noticed you, respecting my grief in Mexico, I just knew you were the perfect person."

I smiled, a warm, genuine smile that cut through the pouring rain.

"You don't have to worry anymore," I promised, my hand going to my chest, a pledge. "I'll protect her. But I have to tell you something first."

"What is it?" she asked.

I took a final, deep breath, letting the sincerity flow. "I'm in love with your daughter."

Yuuka laughed—a light, sweet sound, the first true sound of peace I'd heard from her. She was finally smiling, her ghostly pallor receding slightly.

"Well. You have my wishes," she said softly. "Thank you, Mamoru-kun."

"You can rest well now, Ishikawa-san. I'll be the one watching over your daughter now."

I took a few steps toward her. I wanted to pat her head, a sign of comfort and respect for her sacrifice, but I stopped myself. That felt far too disrespectful to a loving mother and a protective spirit.

Instead, I held out my hand.

"..."

She looked up at my extended hand, her eyes sparkling like Ueno's had when she gave me the hug. Her pale skin, which had been restored to a soft, normal color with her final smile, now gently touched mine. She took my hand.

"A final selfie?" she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

I grinned, lifting my phone with my free hand. We stood there, drenched but smiling—a boy who found love and purpose, and a mother who found peace.

Click.