Chapter 29: Tsukimi

Chapter 29: Tsukimi

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“The festival that usually soothes my heart has instead become my greatest loss—how ironic, isn’t it?”

Without realizing it, the world around me had suddenly transformed. The heavy silence of the night was shattered by a sea of people dressed in vibrant festival attire, carrying glowing lanterns and speaking in cheerful, rhythmic tones. The flicker of colorful paper lamps adorned the streets, hanging in long, swaying lines along the torii gates that led toward the main shrine. The thunderous, rhythmic pulse of taiko drums filled the air, harmonizing with the laughter and the steady shuffle of a thousand footsteps. I let out a soft, shaky breath, jolting awake from my trance. Ah, that’s right. Today was the Tsukimi Festival.

Tsukimi—the celebration of the autumn moon’s beauty. But more than just a gaze at the sky, it was an offering of gratitude for the harvest and a celebration of togetherness before the bite of winter. The full moon hung in the sky like a perfect, silver eye, watching over the crowd as they gathered in unity.

Yet, in the midst of this bustling joy, my heart felt hollow. I watched families and friends sharing moments of light, and though I should have been happy to see the world restored, a suffocating guilt tightened around my chest. My mind, treacherous and weary, drifted back to a life long ago.

When I lived as Kougei, I once stood beneath a similar sky as the Aurigama comet streaked overhead. On that night, consumed by a scorching rage, I had cursed Jouga. I had sworn that one day her existence would be erased, and I promised to laugh the loudest when karma finally dismantled her world. I remembered the bitter taste of that vow. And now... my curse had come to pass.

Kazuaki, the one soul who had become my entire world in this life, was fading. His name was being scrubbed from the collective memory, much like how Tsukimi—which might have once been celebrated for him—had been reconfigured into a general celebration of the seasons. I was trapped in a loop of regret. If only I hadn't uttered those cruel words. If only I hadn't let that ancient anger rot my heart.

Tears escaped the corners of my eyes, hot and mocking. I wasn't laughing. I was breaking. I would give anything to take back those words, to silence the echo of that ancient, vengeful girl.

Around me, the festival grew louder. People sat on bamboo mats, enjoying the moon while eating mochi and dango, their hands warmed by steaming cups of tea. They shared food and smiles, while I stood as a ghost in their midst, utterly alienated. The moon was breathtaking tonight, but all I could feel was a cold, encroaching darkness.

Suddenly, a woman approached me. Her golden hair was pinned back neatly, and she wore a stunning violet kimono patterned with intricate phoenix motifs. Her hairpins were shaped like plum blossoms that seemed to flutter with every graceful step she took. She appeared to be around Yukifuyu’s age, yet there was a depth of wisdom in her eyes that felt centuries old. Wait—I recognized her. She was part of Kazuaki’s circle, wasn't she? The one usually seen with Ageha and Yukifuyu.

“My name is Wakaouji Genkihime. A bit of an old-fashioned name, isn't it? But you can just call me Genki,” she introduced herself, her voice a warm, raspy melody.

“Yes... I’m Oozora Chinatsu. I’ve... I’ve heard of you from Yukifuyu and the others.”

“Oh! You’re the Chinatsu?” she asked softly, her eyes searching mine. “What are you crying for on such a beautiful night?”

I hesitated, swallowing a sob that felt like shards of glass. “I’m lost. I’ve lost someone vital. And the worst part is... I feel responsible for it.”

Genki looked at me with profound tenderness. “Loss doesn't always mean something is gone,” she said quietly. “Sometimes, something simply chooses not to reveal itself to us. That doesn't mean it has ceased to exist.”

I frowned, my mind spinning. “What do you mean?”

She smiled faintly and sat beside me, tilting her head toward the stars. “There is an ancient story about a deity who traveled through every universe, every corner of the galaxy, just to find a lost loved one. He searched endlessly, but every time he drew near, the person would vanish again.”

I listened, captivated. “Why would they hide?”

Genki looked deep into my soul. “Not because of a lack of love, but perhaps because they didn't want to burden the deity with their presence. Sometimes, we hide from those we love because we are terrified of becoming their weight. We don't want them to suffer for our sake. It’s the story of the two cursed stars in the asterism... the tale of Kagechi and Dakki, the Greater and the Lesser.”

Her words hit me like a physical blow. I thought of Kazuaki. Was it possible he hadn't vanished into nothingness? Was he merely hiding behind the veil of reality to spare me the pain of his fading light?

As Genki spoke, the festival reached a crescendo. People began to sing traditional songs to the moon, sending prayers for luck and happiness into the night. Lanterns took flight, carrying dreams toward the silver orb above.

“Why do you feel guilty?” Genki asked suddenly.

“I cursed him... eons ago,” I confessed in a whisper. “And now he’s gone. No one even remembers he was ever here.”

Genki went silent for a moment, then smiled again. “Perhaps he chose to fade for you. He prioritized your life, your happiness, over his own existence. Your life is more important to him because you are the sun that sustains this world.”

“The sun? How could you possibly know that?”

“Your name, your smile... they represent the sun perfectly. And have faith—that person will return one day.”

I bit my lip, the dam finally breaking. “But... I can feel him. I know he’s still here, right next to me.”

“Perhaps he is,” Genki replied. “In your heart, in your memories. The red thread that binds you won't snap just because the dimensions shifted. Kazuaki is always there, even if he’s invisible to the eye. I know the kind of man Kazuaki is. A brilliant vocalist who was once paired with an equally brilliant bassist... forgive me, I’m just being nostalgic.”

My tears flowed freely now. My soul felt like it was vibrating with every word she spoke. “He’s so stupid. Kazuaki is such a fool!” I sobbed, my hands trembling. “Why did he do this? Why did he choose to leave me behind?”

Genki stood up, silhouetted against the brilliant moon. “Because he loves you more than you’ve realized.”

“...”

“Right now, everyone is saying, ‘We celebrate the Tsukimi festival, not the Goddess Jouga... besides, who is that?’ Right?”

“Yes...” I whispered.

In that moment, I felt like I was pinning my hopes on a distant, impossible star. Please, give Kazuaki and me a chance to meet again, properly and fully, I prayed silently. I would keep hoping, begging the universe not to be so cruel.

I stared at the sky, where the cool autumn wind carried the scent of fallen leaves. People in their finery enjoyed the moon, while paper lanterns floated like embers toward the heavens. I turned back to Genki, a desperate thought crossing my mind.

“Genki, the Aurigama comets... it returns every ten years, right? That means it’ll be back in 2030?” I asked frantically, hoping for a second chance to rewrite the script.

Genki stared at me, bewildered. “What are you talking about? You don't need to wait for the comet... this is 2030. The comet passed by last month, on August 12th. Today is September 12th, 2030.”

The world began to spin. “So... I’m back in the future?”

“Back? Don't be silly,” Genki laughed softly. “The comet passed last month, and honestly, the weirdest thing happened—the sun and moon actually vanished for a moment. It’s still a mystery why.”

I sat there, stunned. The gods had erased the tragedy from human memory. No one remembered me shooting the sun, or the song of the summer flowers beneath the comet’s tail. All those memories—along with Kazuaki—had been purged.

“So, there’s no way to cross time again,” I murmured bitterly. The comet was gone. There was no ‘reset’ button left.

Just then, I saw them—Yukifuyu, Jiro, Momiji, and Yorishiro approaching. Their faces were etched with worry. My heart skipped a beat as I realized—they remembered. They hadn't lost their memories of Kazuaki or the tragedy.

“You and Kazuaki were gone for a whole month. We were so worried,” Yukifuyu said, her voice trembling.

“Yeah. Kazuaki... we couldn't find him anywhere. Was he with you—” Jiro trailed off, his eyes widening as he realized I was standing there alone.

“Genki, you’re here too?” Momiji noted. “Look, this is the Chinatsu-san we were telling you about.”

“Yes, we’ve already been chatting,” Genki replied.

Yukifuyu looked down, trying to stifle her tears. “So... he... he isn't here anymore?”

Yorishiro tried to break the heavy tension. “Wait... Chinatsu-san, you look so much younger! You look exactly our age now.”

“I... I went back to the past, and suddenly I was back here again.”

They were all shocked, Genki included. I had my youth back, but what was the point without Kazuaki?

Yet, a small spark of relief lit up in my chest. At least someone remembered him. At least his existence wasn't a complete void. We sat down together, a small circle of survivors.

I chose to believe Genki’s words. Maybe Kazuaki was still here, hidden behind a curtain of fate I couldn't yet pull aside. Tonight's Tsukimi, which should have been for him, would be my way of keeping his light alive.

This Tsukimi... is for you.

End of Natsu no Hanauta, see you in Fuyu no Hanauta in the next chapters.