Chapter 44: Moon Tracker Team and the Missing Earth

Chapter 44: Moon Tracker Team and the Missing Earth

✿———✦———✿

“Can I get angry over something that no longer belongs to me? If so, that means I'm the one who's crazy.”

The air in Kobe had turned crisp, carrying the sharp scent of early spring—a season of transitions, endings, and unsettling beginnings. For me, Oozora Chinatsu, life had become a frantic balancing act. Between the steam of the espresso machine at my small cafe and the mountain of ancient texts and astronomical charts we were deciphering, I felt like I was running a race with no finish line. But today, the exhaustion felt different. It was heavy, weighted with an intuition I couldn't quite name.

We gathered at Yorishiro’s mansion, a place that had become our unofficial war room. The grandeur of the estate usually felt inspiring, but today, the high ceilings only seemed to echo our growing anxieties. The team was mostly present, huddled around a mahogany table covered in satellite imagery of the moon and sketches of celestial alignments.

“Alright, listen up, everyone!” Mitsuki’s voice boomed, shattering the tense silence. He stood at the head of the table, dramatically running a hand through his hair. “We are no longer just a group of concerned citizens. We are a force. And every force needs a name that commands respect and captures the essence of our mission.”

Kiriha leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed tightly. She looked at Mitsuki with an expression that hovered between pity and pure annoyance. “Here we go,” she muttered.

“I propose,” Mitsuki continued, ignoring her, “the Moon Tracker Team. It’s sleek, it’s modern, and it tells the world exactly what we are doing—tracking the very source of the anomaly that threatens our sky.”

Kiriha let out a sharp, jagged laugh. “Moon Tracker? Really, Mitsuki? You’re not even trying to be subtle anymore. Your name literally means ‘Three Moons.’ You just want a team name that sounds like a fan club for yourself. You’re such a narcissistic drama king, it’s actually impressive.”

Mitsuki’s face flushed, but he quickly turned to Jiro, who was busy trying to balance a pencil on his nose. “General Jiro! Back me up here! Tell this fashion-obsessed cynic why the name is a stroke of genius!”

Jiro let the pencil drop and grinned, his eyes lighting up with boyish mischief. “Oh, I’m 100% with Mitsuki on this one! Moon Tracker Team sounds like an elite special ops unit. It’s got punch! It’s got vibe! If we call ourselves something boring like ‘The Kobe Lunar Observation Society,’ we’ll be bored to death before the world even ends. Come on, Kiriha, live a little!”

Genki sighed, her head thumping onto the table with a dull thud, while Mitan watched the exchange with a weary, patient smile. I looked toward Kazuaki, expecting him to shut down the nonsense as he usually did.

To my surprise, Kazuaki didn't look up from his tablet. His expression was a mask of cold indifference, his gaze fixed on the scrolling data. “It’s functional,” he said, his voice flat and nonchalant. “It categorizes the data sets we are currently prioritizing. I don’t care what you call it. Let’s just move on to the spectral analysis.”

Because Kazuaki agreed—or rather, didn't care enough to disagree—the room went quiet. Kiriha shot Mitsuki one last glare, but the debate was over. The ‘Moon Tracker Team’ was born, though the victory felt hollow in the face of Kazuaki’s icy detachment.

“I’m glad you boys have your toys and names,” a cool, sharp voice rang out from the shadows near the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

It was Ageha. She stood apart from the group, her posture perfect. She wasn't holding a tablet or a notebook; she held herself with a professional distance that felt like a glass wall.

“But don’t add my name to your official roster,” Ageha stated, her eyes scanning the room.

“Why not, Ageha-senpai?” Genki asked, sitting up straight.

“I’ve officially joined the JAXA department under JAA supervision,” Ageha explained, her tone clinical. “The Japanese Aerospace Exploration Agency doesn't take kindly to their researchers split-tasking with unofficial, fringe groups. My contract has a strict exclusivity clause. If I’m caught sharing data with an unverified team, they’ll terminate my position. I’ll provide guidance from the shadows, but on paper, I’m not here.”

The room felt even colder after her announcement. One by one, the pillars of our group seemed to be shifting.

“Wait,” Momiji said suddenly, her voice small. “Where’s Yukifuyu? She’s never late for the data sync.”

Genki and Konoha looked around the room. “Yuki isn't here,” Genki confirmed.

I felt a chill crawl down my spine. Usually, Yukifuyu was the silent anchor of the room. Kazuaki remained motionless. His hands were resting on the table, but I saw the slight tension in his shoulders—the only crack in his stoic armor. He swallowed hard, a rhythmic, pained motion in his throat, but he didn't utter a single word of concern.

“She’s sick,” Yorishiro intervened. “She messaged me yesterday. She said her fever spiked and she wouldn't be able to make the trip. We should leave her to rest.”

“Oh...” the group murmured. We tried to dive into the research, but the focus was gone. My mind was a chaotic mess. I couldn't stop thinking about the pharmacy yesterday. I had gone in for simple vitamins, and there she was—Yukifuyu—standing in the emergency contraceptive aisle. She had looked so fragile, her hand resting against her hip as if she were shielding a wound.

As the meeting droned on, I found myself watching Kazuaki. He was a stone. He didn't offer his usual brilliant insights; he just stared at the shifting graphs with a hollow, nonchalant gaze.

During the mid-afternoon break, I approached him. The others were in the kitchen grabbing tea, leaving us alone.

“Ah... it’s so quiet without Yuki, isn’t it?” I said, trying to sound casual. “We’ve gathered so much important information today...”

Kazuaki didn't even look at me. He simply gave a small, stiff nod. The silence was suffocating. I wanted to reach out, to ask him what was happening, but the distance he radiated was like a physical barrier. He was so far away, even standing right in front of me.

✿———✦———✿

The meeting ended early. I hopped on my motorcycle and found myself steering toward the elite residential district. Yukifuyu’s house was a masterpiece of modern architecture—cold and beautiful. Her mother and brother welcomed me and told me she was in her room, ‘recovering.’

I walked down the long, silent hallway and knocked on her door. “Yuki... it’s Chinatsu. Can I come in?”

A small, hesitant voice answered. When I opened the door, the room was dimly lit. Yukifuyu was buried under a thick duvet. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her skin was a ghostly white.

“What happened, Yuki? You’re more than just ‘sick,’ aren't you?”

She pulled the covers up to her nose. I didn't want to be the one to do this, but I had to know.

“I saw you yesterday, Yuki. At the pharmacy. In the section for... emergency help,” I said, my voice soft. “Why were you there?”

Yukifuyu’s eyes filled with tears instantly. Her body began to tremble. “There was... a mistake,” she whispered. “The night of the party... I was drunk. I wasn't thinking. I... I did something with a man. Something I can't take back.”

The words felt like a physical blow. A man. My mind immediately went to the worst possible place. I thought of Kazuaki’s hollow eyes and his icy silence.

“Who was it, Yuki? Who was the man?” I asked, my voice trembling with rising anger.

She looked at me then, her face a mask of pure agony. Her lips parted, she looked like she was on the verge of screaming a name. But I saw the sheer terror in her gaze.

“Stop,” I said suddenly, holding up a hand. “Don't. I... I don’t want to know.”

I was a coward. I was so afraid that she would say his name that I chose ignorance. I chose to preserve the fragile illusion of my ‘fate’ rather than face a truth that would shatter my world.

I left her house shortly after. I felt like I was drowning. I drove aimlessly until I found myself in front of a 24-hour supermarket. I walked in and bought a pack of cigarettes. I hadn't smoked in years, but right now, I needed something to burn.

I stood in the parking lot, the wind whipping my hair. I lit a cigarette, the first puff making my head swim. Suddenly, a hand reached out from the side, snatched the cigarette from my fingers, and crushed it on the ground without a word.

I spun around, ready to snap.

“Kazu?”

He was standing there, looking bored and tired, his face as stoic as ever. There was no warmth in his expression, just his usual nonchalant gaze.

“You’re going to smell like an ash tray,” he said flatly. His voice was cold, devoid of the concern I so desperately wanted to hear.

“What are you doing here?” I snapped, my heart racing.

“I needed coffee,” he replied, gesturing vaguely toward the store. He looked at me for a moment, his eyes scanning my face with a clinical indifference. After that incident, he had no idea how I felt about him; to him, I was just a component of his social circle, a childhood acquaintance he happened to run into. “You look like a mess, Chinatsu. If you’re that stressed about the research, you should just go home and sleep.”

I let out a harsh, cynical laugh. “Stress about the research? Is that all you see?”

He tilted his head slightly, completely unaffected by my outburst. “What else is there? If you can’t handle the pressure, maybe you shouldn’t be on the team. Because... it seems like you're not really serious about astronomy.” He turned to walk away, his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed and entirely unbothered.

“You’re a piece of work, Kazuaki,” I whispered, the tears finally starting to blur my vision.

He stopped and looked back over his shoulder, his expression unchanged. “And you’re being dramatic. Goodnight, Chinatsu.”

He walked into the supermarket without looking back. I stood there in the cold, watching his silhouette disappear behind the sliding glass doors. He didn’t know. He didn’t care. And as I drove away into the night, I realized that the ‘thread of fate’ I had been holding onto was nothing more than a ghost in the dark.