Chapter 44: Under the Lanterns of Memory

The night of the Obana Festival arrived with clear skies and warm air. The entire town glowed with soft lantern light, strings of gold stretching across the streets like stars brought down to earth.

Ren, Haru, Mina, and Yuki walked together toward Miyazuma Shrine—each carrying a paper lantern with a symbol drawn on it.

Crowds moved in waves around them. Children chased each other with cotton candy. The air smelled of grilled food, sweet dango, and summer nights. But for Ren, every sound felt slightly muffled, as if the world was wrapped in a thin layer of fog.

Haru stretched. “Man, I love this festival.”

Mina nudged him. “And you said you wouldn’t get excited.”

“I never said that.”

“You did.”

“I said I might not.”

Yuki giggled softly. It was the first time Ren had seen her laugh so freely. It warmed him more than the lantern in his hands.

They reached the stone steps of Miyazuma Shrine, covered in lanterns that swayed gently in the wind. The steps seemed longer tonight, stretching into darkness and light at the same time.

Ren felt something tug in his chest.

He didn’t know why.

But his feet grew heavier with each step.

--

When they reached the top, the shrine grounds were filled with visitors. Lanterns hung in arcs overhead, glowing warm and soft. At the center, an old priest told the Tale of the Sun Goddess and Moon God.

“And so,” the priest said, “their memories were taken. But even without the past, love found its way back. Not through fate… but through the heart.”

Ren stared at the shrine’s torii gate.

His vision blurred for a moment.

A ringing sound grew in the back of his head—not loud, not painful, but familiar.

Chime… chime… chime…

He froze.

Yuki stopped walking too. She pressed a hand to her temple.

“Ren…” she whispered, barely audible.

He turned.

Her eyes were wide. Lost. Searching.

Like she was hearing the same thing.

Haru looked between them. “Hey, you two okay?”

Before they could answer, the lanterns flickered.

A sudden wind swept the shrine grounds.

The crowd murmured, confused.

The air twisted, warm and cold at once, like the world inhaled sharply.

Ren took a step forward without meaning to.

“Yuki—don’t move.”

He wasn’t sure why he said it.

But she didn’t move.

Her fingers tightened around her lantern string.

“Something… feels wrong,” she whispered.

“No,” Ren said softly. “It feels familiar.”

The chime grew louder.

---

The shrine lights stretched like threads of gold. The world vibrated. People blurred at the edges.

Haru grabbed Mina’s hand. “Earthquake?!”

“No,” Mina whispered. “This is something else.”

The priest turned toward the torii gate with wide, knowing eyes.

“It begins again…” he murmured.

The gate lit up—bright, white, and blinding.

The same radiance Ren saw when Yuki vanished.

A thin pathway of light rippled across the ground toward them.

Ren’s heart pounded.

The sensation was painful… and comforting.

Terrifying… and familiar.

Then—

The world snapped.

Suddenly, he stood alone.

The crowd disappeared.

Haru and Mina vanished.

The lanterns froze mid-air.

Only Yuki remained, standing a few feet in front of him.

Her lantern flickered. Her red ribbon glowed faintly.

She lifted her eyes to him.

“Ren… I think I know you.”

He swallowed. “I think I know you too.”

He didn’t understand why those words hurt.

-

The wind stopped.

A hush spread over the shrine as time itself held its breath.

Then—

The chime struck once.

Light burst outward.

And memories surged.

Not just glimpses.

Everything.

Ren gasped as his mind filled:

—Yuki laughing at their first high school date

—Ren playing guitar as she painted beside him

—Their small wedding room, cramped but filled with hope

—Their daughter crying when they fought

—Their son asking if he could have “two houses”

—The divorce papers

—The silence

—The regret

—The second chance

—The time travel

—The fight

—Yuki disappearing

—The God of Time’s warning

—The cost

—Her memories fading

—His memories fading

—The last moment he held her hand

—The promise he couldn’t remember making

He stumbled forward, breath ripped from his lungs.

Yuki clutched her chest, eyes wide, tears spilling.

“Ren… I remember everything—”

He reached for her.

“Yuki—”

Their hands touched.

Another explosion of light.

Their shared memories twisted and rewound:

—Their kids smiling

—Their family walks

—Their dreams

—Their heartbreak

—Their reunion

—Their loss

The world around them fractured into shards of glass reflecting every timeline they lived. Every version of themselves.

Ren squeezed her hands.

“I found you,” he breathed. “I’ll find you every time.”

Her voice cracked. “Then don’t let go.”

“I won’t.”

The lanterns reconstructed themselves.

The air shimmered.

And the figure of a woman emerged beside the torii gate.

Keiko Aoki.

Or rather—

The being wearing her face.

Her voice echoed, layered with warmth and something ancient.

“You remember now.”

Ren tightened his grip on Yuki. “Why show us everything?”

“To remind you why you were chosen,” the goddess said. “You both carried regrets so heavy they broke the flow of time itself.”

Yuki swallowed hard. “So you sent us back…”

“For a chance to heal what was broken,” the goddess said. “A second path. A final path.”

Ren stepped forward. “Why take our memories then?”

Her eyes softened.

“The price of balance is forgetting. Love that knows no pain cannot grow. Love that knows only pain cannot last. You needed both.”

Yuki trembled.

“So… do we lose them again?” she whispered. “All these memories… do they disappear?”

The goddess lifted a hand.

“That,” she said gently, “is your choice.”

---

The lanterns around them began glowing brighter, swirling upward into the sky like fireflies.

Ren turned to Yuki.

Her eyes searched his, pleading for honesty.

For courage.

He placed a hand over hers.

“We’ve lost each other enough,” he said quietly. “I’m tired of losing you.”

Yuki’s voice shook. “I want a life with you… even if it’s imperfect. Even if it’s scary.”

The goddess nodded once.

“Then take back what was yours.”

She extended both hands.

A soft warmth spread over Ren and Yuki, weaving into their chests, their thoughts, their hearts—binding past and future.

The light grew brighter.

The world spun.

Then—

Everything faded.

--

Ren blinked.

He stood back at the festival entrance, lantern in hand.

Haru and Mina were beside him, scolding each other about yakisoba.

The crowd laughed.

Music played.

Lanterns swayed.

It was as if nothing had happened.

Except—

Yuki stood a few steps away.

Holding her lantern close.

Red ribbon in her hair.

She turned.

Their eyes met.

Recognition.

Heat.

Relief.

Memory.

Yuki’s voice trembled. “Ren…”

He smiled—soft, broken, whole.

“We came back… together.”

Her eyes filled. “We did.”

And for the first time in two timelines… in two lives… in two hearts that had broken and healed—

Ren reached out.

Yuki reached too.

Their fingers intertwined.

A new future began with a simple, gentle touch.

No more forgetting.

No more losing.

No more distance.

Under the lantern light of Miyazuma Shrine—

they remembered everything.