Chapter 31: I Will Always Love You

Chapter 31: I Will Always Love You

✿———✦———✿

“I promise, I'll never break our promise again...”

The next morning, I woke up earlier than usual. A heavy weight had pressed against my chest all night, making sleep a fleeting stranger. The image of Kazuaki from yesterday—cold, distant, looking at me as if I were merely a shadow in a crowded room—was burned into my mind. Yet, this time, the grief didn't paralyze me. Instead, it ignited a new, desperate resolve. I had to know him again. Even if he had become a stranger to himself, I would find the man I loved beneath the ice.

After a rushed breakfast and finishing the opening routine at the cafe, I headed out. I had no clear destination, but I felt a pull, an invisible thread guiding my feet. Kobe, once so familiar, now felt like a city of masks. Every corner seemed to hold a secret, as if the world knew the truth about Kazuaki but was forbidden from speaking it to me.

I started at the most logical place: his old apartment. Even though I knew he no longer lived there, I hoped for a footprint, a lingering scent, a scrap of paper. But when I arrived, the building felt hollow. It was as if no one named Kazuaki had ever crossed its threshold. Even the landlord, who once joked with us, looked at me with a blank expression when I mentioned his name.

I spent hours wandering aimlessly through our old haunts. The harbor-side cafe, the small park where he used to unwind after a long day of sketching, the bookstore where we once whispered about our wildest dreams. Each place offered only a sharp sting of nostalgia, but no breadcrumbs to his current life.

By late afternoon, exhaustion began to take hold. I ducked into a cafe I had never visited before. I sat by the window, watching the rain-slicked streets, wondering if I was chasing a ghost. That’s when a waiter arrived, placing a glass on my table that I hadn't ordered.

“This is from the gentleman who was sitting in the corner,” the waiter said, nodding toward the back of the room. I spun around, but the chair was pushed in. The table was empty.

“What gentleman? What did he look like?” I asked, my heart skipping a beat.

“He didn't leave a name,” the waiter replied with a polite, puzzled smile.

My pulse quickened. Kazuaki? Was he watching me? I bolted out of the cafe, scanning the crowded sidewalk to the left and right, but there was no sign of him. Only the indifferent flow of the city.

I slumped back into my seat and looked at the glass. It was Oolong tea—exactly what Kazuaki used to drink. Was this a coincidence, or a deliberate signal from a man who couldn't remember why he felt the need to buy a stranger a drink?

I pulled out my phone and began a frantic digital search. If the world had been scrubbed of his memory, surely something remained in the cracks. I scoured old social media threads, archived news, and fan forums for Taiyoutenshi. Finally, after hours of dead ends, I found an old blog post from a former employee of Kazuaki’s uncle. The post mentioned that the lead designer of the project had once obsessed over a small mountain village to find inspiration for his characters. A place called Arima Onsen.

I left for Arima immediately. If Kazuaki was being erased, maybe a place of ancient spirits and mountain air held the echoes that the city had lost. Maybe there, he had left a piece of himself that the gods had overlooked.

The journey took thirty minutes, and by the time I arrived, the sun had dipped below the mountains. Arima Onsen was ethereal in the twilight—narrow winding streets, steaming vents, and the heavy silence of the woods. I felt as though I was stepping out of time and into a realm where Kazuaki still existed.

I visited several traditional inns. When I asked about a guest named Kazuaki, the owners were confused. But when I described him—his height, the way he carried himself, the intensity in his eyes—one innkeeper’s expression shifted.

“There is someone who matches that description,” she said softly. “He never tells us his name. But he comes every year, usually in the autumn. He spends most of his time walking the forest paths near the shrine.”

“Is he here now?” I asked, my voice trembling with hope.

The woman shook her head. “Not today. But he always returns eventually.”

Disappointment washed over me, but it was anchored by a newfound certainty. Kazuaki was still in this world. He was still connected to this earth. Even if his mind was a blank slate, his soul was retracing the steps of his past life—perhaps searching for the same things I was.

I walked toward the forest she had mentioned. As night fell, the woods felt alive, filled with whispers and shifting shadows. I walked until I reached a small, secluded shrine hidden among the ancient cedars. In front of the shrine stood a stone statue—a deity of stars accompanied by a wolf. It was the same figure from Genki’s paintings.

I looked up at the stars peeking through the canopy. Was this where he came to remember?

He might not know my face. He might not remember the sound of my laughter or the way we stood under the comet. But I would not stop. If I have to introduce myself to him a thousand times, I will. If I have to make him fall in love with me in every timeline, I will.

Because to the world, he is a ghost. But to me, Kazuaki is the very heartbeat of my life.

I will find you, Kazuaki. Even if we have to start from the very first hello.