Chapter 19:

In Beloved Memory

Oubaitori: The Girl I Saw That Day

“I know it might be difficult to hear, but it's the truth. Chiyoko Watanabe died 30 years ago; and to think I was 9 years old at the time.” Mom chuckled a bit as a tired, almost heavy sigh escaped from her mouth. “Tell me, didn't you wonder why I specifically asked if you knew her middle name?”

I stroked the nape of my neck as I stared at her with my eyelids parted. “... I kinda did...” I finally spoke after staying quiet for a few seconds, swallowing constantly.

My voice was hesitant; the thoughts that were going through my head at that moment were starting to make me realize something that had been right in front of me the entire time. All the words I wanted to utter disappeared from my brain, so instead of speaking, I chose to listen.

“You see, the Watanabe family was very close to our family. Specifically, your gran’ and big sister's mother. Oh, right, you don't know. Chiyoko was six years older than me, so I used to refer to her as big sister, just like how Miyu refers to you as big bro.”

Hearing all this just made me want to deny it even more. Because even though I was being told the truth, I still wanted to believe it was a lie. I wanted to be ignorant and oblivious to the whole thing. Why? Because—

Ignorance is bliss, cynicism is a shield, and passivity is a safe haven. All these things protect us from the pain that the truth brings. Therefore, I ask: Are lies truly unjust? Are they always unnecessary? What about the truth? Is it always necessary? Is it always justified?

No, lies aren't always unjust. They can be a necessity, especially when they're told to protect yourself or someone else from harm—whether it be verbal, mental, or even emotional. But that doesn't mean they're not wrong.

The truth, however, isn't always necessary. Honesty might be the best policy, but it's not the best mediator of conflict. Some wars start from the truth. Some relationships end from too much honesty. And yet, that doesn't mean that the truth is bad or irrelevant. In reality, both truth and lies are just two sides of the same coin.

The bittersweet smile on Mom's face slowly started to fade as her tone shifted from warm to cold. “On my 9th birthday, Chiyoko disappeared for good. Her parents told us that she left, saying she was coming to my party…”

Mom trailed off, her face contorting as she covered it with her hand while she breathed an enervated breath.

“She never returned… naturally, her parents said it was my and your gran’s fault she disappeared; they especially blamed me.”

She slumped in her chair.

“For 30 years, I've had only one regret. Not being able to apologize to the girl I killed, to the sibling I never had, to the best friend I could've ever asked for. She's the entire reason I became an animator. The way she would talk about anime… it inspired me…” She sat up straight as she stared at me. “If you're still in denial, then go to my room. On the side shelf next to my bed, there's a photo. It's better to be shown rather than to be told.”

My hand gripped my shirt around my chest as my breath slowly increased in pace. I stood up while my eyes illustrated a hollow shell of an expression.

I limped out of the kitchen as my blood dripped from my chin to the ground. Each time five to six seconds passed, it would drip to the floor as I made my way through the passageway.

Miyu was in my line of sight as I took every step. She lay on the floor as if she had met her end. My hollow gaze couldn't even land on her; I could only see her out of the corner of my eye.

I made it in front of Mom's door as I stood there for a moment. Her words had been—and still were—playing in my head with each step I took. Even when I opened the door slowly.

Step…

The shelf was now in front of me as I halted at the side of the bed. I pulled on the drawer in a hesitant motion as the smell of medication clouded my sense of smell. I rummaged, and without much effort, I found the photo. It was in black and white, which I had expected.

What I didn't expect was what I saw in the photo. A lady who looked like a middle-aged copy of Mom stood behind two girls as she placed her hands on both their shoulders. She had cold eyes and a well-kept hime cut.

On the left, there was a taller girl with long hair, while on the right, there was a shorter girl with neat pigtails. The three of them had different smiles; the pigtails girl had a cheeky smile while the lady and the taller girl had mature, dignified smiles.

I studied the photo as I realized that in the background, Gran's house was visible. Specifically, the front yard, which looked a lot smoother than it does nowadays. Just then, my gaze landed on a particular detail.

[Wednesday, 19/07/1992]

The date the photo was taken.

My nose crinkled, and my brow creased as I let the photo drop. My breathing became much, much heavier as my hands shook uncontrollably. I raised them to my line of sight as my eyes trembled alongside them, my lips parting slowly. I had sat down after I took the photo, so I tried to stand up, but I fell just as fast as I had risen.

I forced every muscle in my body to function regardless of the agony I was feeling both physically and mentally. I got back on my feet, and even though it sent a sharp pain to my already painful head, I darted out of the room.

One more, just one more. I want just one more confirmation, I ruminated as I made my way through the passageway, footsteps echoing off the tired old walls.

“I just can't accept it! I won't! Not until I've finally confirmed it just one more time!”

There's a high chance a prank is being pulled on me. Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's gotta be it.

Mom heard my loud yells and footsteps as she hurried out of the kitchen, only to see me storm out of the house with more speed than anything I had ever shown before. Mom noticed Miyu in the passageway. She hurried and grabbed her, giving her a piggyback. Then, she ran after me as the house was left behind like used gum.

I had one destination in mind: the cemetery on the west side of town. Without decreasing my pace, I entered the street as I dodged a speeding car that almost ran me off the road.

Its tires screeched as it braked a few feet behind me. While I did dodge it, I didn't dodge completely as it hit me with an amount of force that only made me fall on my face.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing running in the middle of the road, jackass? You got a death wish or somethin’?” the driver said while peeking out the window.

Oh, you have no f'ing idea.

I stood up while ignoring the pain as I continued running toward the cemetery, which was now visible since it was right next to the road that led to the east, west, and north. To put it simply, it was near an intersection.

I ran and ran and ran until I reached the gate. Without so much as thinking about it, I kicked the damn thing open and ran again. The tombstones lined up in an almost eerie formation—as if they were an army of soldiers going to war, only this war was already over, and they could rest in peace.

I moved through the aisles of graves as I looked at the names of each one. I looked around for a long while, since the number of graves was just too overwhelming, until I made it to one fancy grave at the back of the cemetery. I completely froze as my skin went cold, my lips dried up, and my eyes widened as my eyebrows rose.

In Beloved Memory

of

Chiyoko Dilara Watanabe

1978–1993

My eyes glistened as I saw this absurd tombstone that made every clue I had looked past come back to me full circle. Her cold hands, her calm presence, her manner of speech, her pale skin. It all made sense. And yet, a part of me still couldn't accept it. The truth was right in front of me, yet it felt like I was looking at an elaborate lie. Even though the truth is cruel, I somehow think that lies are even crueler. Maybe that's the perk of being the son of Naoki Sato.

My knees buckled as I got on all fours, and then I placed my head on the ground as if asking the gods to free me from this nightmare. Then I muttered with a weak, yet pained tone:

“This has to be some sort of sick joke, right? Riiight?! ”

[To be Continued…]