Chapter 35: The Last Crossing

Ren’s chest heaved as he followed the faint, wavering light. The chime from Miyazuma Shrine still echoed in his mind, faint but insistent, a rhythm guiding him through the shifting world. The air around him quivered, like the space between heartbeats stretched into eternity. Every step felt heavy, yet necessary.

The town around him dissolved piece by piece. Streets became streams of silver light, the lampposts bent and twisted, and shadows moved against logic, stretching and shrinking. The world was breathing in ways he had never seen. He clutched at the memory of Yuki’s voice—the one that had whispered through the cracks of time, fragile but insistent.

“Ren… find me,” she had said.

The memory of that voice fueled him, pushing him forward. He passed the old stone bridge, now shimmering with a strange, liquid glow. The metal railing vibrated softly under his touch, humming with energy, as if it remembered all the steps they had ever taken together. He remembered their first bridge crossing, the laughter, the awkward silences, and the gentle brushing of hands. Every memory was sharpened, glowing in fragments around him, tugging at his heart.

Then the world flickered. One second, he was on the bridge. The next, he was back at the classroom where Yuki had first discovered her passion for photography. She had been asleep at her desk, hair spilling over the notebook, sunlight streaking across her face. He remembered that morning vividly—the way she had squeezed the camera like it was the only anchor in her chaotic life. And then the vision shattered like glass, leaving only the pull of the light before him.

“Hold on, Yuki,” Ren whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m coming.”

He ran, his feet moving through paths that seemed to fold and twist in impossible ways. Behind him, Haru and Mina tried to keep pace, their figures flickering like ghosts in the shifting landscape.

“Ren! Wait!” Haru shouted, panic lacing his words. “This is insane! I don’t even—”

“Not now!” Ren cut him off without looking back. Every pulse of light, every shiver in the air was pulling him closer. Yuki was near. He could feel it. He had to reach her.

Mina’s voice rang out, steady and calm despite the chaos. “Just follow the light. Trust him, Haru. He knows where he’s going.”

Ren’s mind raced, but for the first time, there was clarity amid the chaos. He knew why they had been sent back. He knew what he had to do. Not just for Yuki, but for the lives they had lost in the original timeline. Every step he took now carried the weight of those unfulfilled futures, and every pulse of his heart was a vow: he would not fail again.

The world shifted again, revealing a beach. Waves crashed silently, the sand white and impossibly soft under his feet. And there, amidst the shifting light, he saw her. Yuki. Standing alone, glowing faintly, her form blurred at the edges like smoke in sunlight. She was looking down, hands clasped as if holding herself together, unaware—or perhaps unable—to see him.

Ren’s chest tightened. He wanted to run to her, to hold her, to tell her everything he had ever left unsaid. But the space between them was not solid. His feet hit the sand, but he passed through nothing. His hands reached out—and the world rippled, swallowing them.

“Yuki!” he shouted, voice breaking. “Please! Don’t be gone!”

The faint glow of her silhouette pulsed. For a heartbeat, her head lifted, and their eyes met. He could see the fear, the longing, the hope all at once. It tore at him, this fragile, perfect version of her, suspended in the liminal space.

Fragments of their past flashed in his mind: their first date at the local festival, the messy ice cream fight, their laughter echoing down quiet streets. The fights that had broken their hearts later, the long nights of misunderstanding, and the children they had never held. Every memory burned with clarity, a reminder of why he had to succeed this time.

The light around Yuki shifted again, dimming, threatening to vanish like mist in the morning sun. Ren’s hands shook, pressing against the invisible barrier between them. “I won’t let you disappear! I don’t care what it takes—I’ll fix this. I’ll fix us. I promise!”

A pulse of energy shot through the space, and the liminal world rippled violently. Sand and water flickered, streets and bridges bending around him. Yet through it all, her form remained, delicate and almost unreachable.

Ren’s lips pressed together, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Every ounce of fear, regret, and love he had bottled up until now surged forward. “Yuki… I’m coming for you. I swear I’ll bring you back. I’ll say everything I never said. I’ll change everything I must. Just—stay—please!”

Her silhouette trembled, faintly moving closer, and for a moment, it feels like the gap might close. But the world around them shimmers with unstable light, warning him: time itself resists.

He clenches his fists, grounding himself. “No. I can’t stop. I won’t stop. I don’t care if I have to chase you through every second of time itself. You’re mine, Yuki. I’ll find you.”

And then, like a heartbeat stretching across eternity, the light pulses brighter, stretching outward, encompassing him, the world, and her unreachable form. The chime rings again, soft yet profound, vibrating through every fiber of his being.

Ren inhales sharply, steeling himself. The next step he takes—into the shimmering glow, into the heart of this fractured time—is the step that will either bring them together or forever leave Yuki out of reach.

With one final, determined stride, he moves forward.

“Yuki… I’m here,” he whispers. “And I’m not letting go.”