Chapter 43: The Name That Slipped

The riverbank was quieter now. The hum of distant traffic faded into the background, leaving only the sound of water sliding against the stone walls.

Hanami had finally relaxed a little. Her shoulders weren’t as tight, and her steps grew lighter. For the first time that night, they actually felt like… them.

Kosuke nudged her gently.

“You still walk like you’re chasing a train,” he said.

She blinked, then laughed. “And you still slouch. Your teacher would cry if she saw you.”

“You used to hit me with a notebook to fix it.”

“You deserved it.”

They both laughed—soft, natural, unforced. The kind of laugh that isn’t trying to hide anything.

The bridge’s warm yellow lights glowed above them as they walked underneath it. The air held the faint scent of river moss and cold metal. Hanami stopped near the railing, leaning her elbows on it.

“It’s strange,” she said. “Being here with you again.”

Kosuke stood beside her. “Yeah.”

The moment felt light, almost peaceful, until he added something without thinking.

“Back when you were in Miyakawa College—”

She turned sharply.

“…How do you know the name of my college?”

Kosuke’s breath caught.

He hadn’t meant to say it aloud. It just slipped out, like a stone falling into still water.

Hanami’s eyes widened, searching his face.

“Kosuke… why do you know?”

He exhaled, long and slow. His hands tightened on the railing.

“Because I went there,” he said. “Once.”

Her heartbeat stumbled.

“What do you mean… you went?”

He didn’t face her. His voice was steady, but she could hear the years of quiet pain underneath.

“I took a trip during break. I thought… I thought if I saw you, maybe we could talk. Maybe we could fix things.”

Hanami stared at him, voice shaking.

“But… I never heard anything. I never got any message.”

Kosuke swallowed hard.

“I asked someone to call you. A girl. One of your classmates. I told her I’d wait near the main gate.”

He finally looked at her.

“You refused to see me.”

Hanami froze.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Then she whispered, “Kosuke… I never got that message.”

He blinked. “You didn’t?”

She shook her head, slow and trembling.

“I wasn’t avoiding you. At least… not like that.”

He frowned. “Then why did the girl say—”

“There was someone,” Hanami said quietly, almost to herself. “A guy at my college. He followed me around. Left things in my locker. Waited outside dorms. People knew he was… obsessive.”

Kosuke felt the air tighten.

“I hated attention back then,” she said. “So I told my classmates that if anyone asked about me… especially a guy… to say I wasn’t available. Not to contact me.”

Her breath hitched.

“I didn’t know it was you.”

Kosuke’s face fell.

For a moment, neither spoke. The night pressed close around them, heavy with everything that could’ve been different.

She covered her mouth with her hand.

“Oh god… you must’ve thought I hated you.”

He shook his head gently. “I didn’t blame you. I just… didn’t understand.”

Hanami’s hands trembled.

“That girl… she must’ve misunderstood. She must’ve thought you were the stalker.”

The realization hit her so hard her knees softened. Kosuke reached out instinctively, steadying her elbow.

Hanami’s voice cracked.

“I chased you away without even knowing…”

Her tears finally spilled, quiet but unstoppable. She turned away, embarrassed, but he stepped to her side.

“Hanami, stop. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But you waited,” she whispered. “You waited for me. And I… I wasn’t even there.”

Kosuke looked up at the bridge lights reflecting in her eyes. Something warm and aching tightened in his chest.

“I wasn’t angry,” he said softly. “I was just sad. Because I thought we lost our last chance.”

She shook her head, crying harder.

“I didn’t know, Kosuke. I swear I didn’t know.”

He hesitated only a second before placing a hand on her back.

She didn’t pull away.

She leaned into it, trembling.

The river murmured below them as she cried.

After a while, he spoke again.

“I thought you were happy there,” he said quietly. “You posted pictures with friends. Events. Clubs.”

“I was pretending.” She wiped her eyes. “I hated that place. I felt alone the whole time.”

Kosuke blinked. “…Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her voice turned small.

“You were already drifting away in high school. I thought you didn’t need me anymore.”

Kosuke let out a bitter laugh at himself.

“I was distancing because I liked you too much. I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Hanami looked stunned, tears clinging to her lashes.

“I kept thinking,” Kosuke continued, “if we got closer, I’d ruin your life somehow. You were always meant to shine. And I was—”

“Don’t say that,” she cut in sharply, voice breaking. “You were the only person who ever understood me.”

Her breath trembled.

“I waited for you too, Kosuke. For years.”

He stared at her, speechless.

She sobbed once, loud and raw. The kind of sound that comes from the deepest part of a person. Kosuke reached for her hand—slowly, giving her the chance to pull away.

She didn’t.

Their fingers intertwined naturally. Like they had memory.

They stood under the bridge lights, hand in hand, finally facing a truth that had been buried for too long.

When Hanami finally looked up at him, her eyes were red, her voice thin.

“Kosuke… what were we thinking?”

He squeezed her hand gently.

“I don’t know.”

But his voice carried something hopeful.

Something warm.

Something that felt like the beginning of healing.

And for the first time that night, she didn’t feel alone.