09 The Most Happy Nightmare 7
Lunch is finished.
Gently take the bouquet I bought earlier.
Red petals burn into the field of vision.
That color— I’ve seen it somewhere before, somewhere deep in memory.
“…Let’s go.”
“…Yeah.”
Only at this time every year.
No matter what, the mouth and feet feel heavy.
Even the picnic before this one was forced cheerfulness.
He knew he couldn’t endure what comes next without relying on that false cheer.
Step by step.
Straining to support legs that want to collapse, move forward.
Destination: Memorial Park.
(…Why?)
Going here today had been decided long in advance.
He couldn’t possibly forget that schedule. It was impossible.
And yet Jin was confused.
Why was he here, now, like this?
(Rei is here.)
He didn’t notice how unnatural that thought was.
Rei is not dead.
Thus, the idea that Rei is sleeping in Memorial Park should not exist at all.
(Where exactly am I walking toward?)
A garment predominantly black.
Brown hair neatly aligned at the shoulders.
"...Hey Rei."
"...What?"
Ordinarily, such an idle exchange would be absent at this moment.
Yet Jin could not help but feel compelled.
"Your hair... was it always this short?"
He thought it had been longer.
No—there was more to it.
The color too. What remained burned into Jin’s mind was the shimmer of stars drifting across a night sky—
"I haven't grown it past this since the time I met you."
An awkward smile.
One that failed to form properly. That was the kind of smile.
Jin said nothing further. Rei showed no ease to speak either.
They reached their destination.
Rei lowered his gaze with painful hesitation.
"...!"
A gravestone slightly smaller than the others surrounding it.
Jin looked at the name and years carved into the stone.
A profound, unrelenting sense of loss surged through him.
Literal emptiness, as if his chest had been torn open.
Ah, Jin murmured, a lament. He knew this feeling.
Why had he forgotten?
Why could he not recall?
The void left by the person most precious in this universe, lost forever.
He had believed forgetting such a presence was impossible.
Yet today, despite a persistent unease, he had felt fulfilled—unaware of the gap within.
Drops of rain struck his cheek, one by one.
Unexpected rain caught the mourners nearby off guard; they hurried to pack up their offerings.
"...What now?"
Ling looked slightly flustered, lacking an umbrella.
Should they reschedule? Or proceed now, while the rain was light?
"Doesn't matter—no plans after this... I'll stay here, just for today."
"Yeah... yeah, sorry. I haven’t been able to come often."
Nodding in response to Jin’s words, Rei gently spoke to the one sleeping beneath.
Wiping the grave marker clean with the cloth she had brought.
Placing the flower bouquet before the tomb.
"This is an onigiri. We just ate it together a moment ago."
Setting out the sandwiches, divided in half.
A small, quartered sandwich—just enough for one person.
"Jin always eats meat. I thought you might like vegetables once in a while. I wanted to know... what you liked, what you disliked... I wanted to know that."
The rain grew heavier.
A droplet traced down Rei’s cheek.
Likely Jin felt the same.
Ever since earlier, she’d been aware of something warm flowing along her cheek.
"...I thought you might like something like this."
A pair of sneakers.
Jin, of course, would never fit—too small, even for her.
Why, I don’t know. Maybe because I like running. It just came to me suddenly.
Strange.
I felt nothing when I bought these shoes.
Words come out of my mouth.
Probably, my feet were fast. Fast enough to match a boy’s.
I’ve never seen such a scene—shouldn’t have.
Yet Jin could imagine it with ease.
A faceless stranger, smirking in a vision.
That scene.
A vision so blindingly bright it made tears well up.
… I want to see you.
Mio’s whisper reaches his ear.
A tiny, fragile sound, nearly lost in the rain.
I wanted to see you…
Jin holds Mio without a word.
She clings to him in return.
I’m sorry… I’m sorry…
No need to apologize. There’s nothing for you to apologize for. I was the one who chose you.
That day, nine years ago.
Jin chose Mio.
“No… no… I chose… I chose this. I didn’t know it would turn out like this…”
“…Still can’t say anything?”
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”
Every year.
Rei cries.
Blaming herself. Blaming her choice.
She never says why, not even when asked.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this—Jin agrees.
It differs slightly from the ideal he sketched ten years ago.
But that’s just deviation.
Rei is here now, in his arms.
As long as this minimum condition is met, that is enough.
He tells himself this.
Jin chose this outcome. He has no regrets.
No regrets.
No regrets—but it’s not ideal.
“…Let’s go back. To our home.”
Supporting Rei’s frozen body, Jin gently begins to walk.
Nodding slightly, Rei lets out a choked sob.
One word, looking back.
"See you again."
"I'll come back. Next time, on a better day."
Even as he said it, Jin felt—this promise would never be kept.
Rei's right hand seized his.
Painfully.
Fingers digging into the back of Jin's hand.
Not wanting to let go. As if swearing never to release.
Usually, Jin would match that grip with equal strength.
Never letting go—clutching tightly, fiercely.
But today, he held back.
The persistent unease, clinging still.
His left hand was cold.
No warmth in the hand holding the luggage.
Only the ache of the handle biting into skin.
"—te, —san."
A voice.
A voice he had never heard called like that.
He turned sharply—behind him stood only endless tombstones.
No one.
Oddly, no sense of unease.
Just... that—familiar.
A familiarity he hadn’t heard in months.
Why?
Why is it like this?
The awareness that the warmth he feels in his right hand is actually the same warmth he feels in his left hand refuses to leave.
A sensation of fulfillment.
Yet simultaneously, a sense of something essential missing.
Dissonance.
Dissonance.
Dissonance.
The days he should have spent for ten years.
He cannot avoid dissonance in every one of them.
But he cannot admit it.
He cannot admit it.
Because if he were to pursue that dissonance, he would reach—
The one thing common to all of them—.
Which is now crying out beside him, Reina.
Arriving home.
Shoving Reina into the bathroom.
As he dries her wet body with a towel, Jin scans the room.
Two sets of dishes.
His own are as he remembers them.
The thing belonging to Mio—was it this pattern?
A small object placed on the table.
Several artifacts from structures once built by humanity.
No—there was definitely a penguin or something similar here.
A vague image coalesces.
Searching for discrepancies, one by one, identifying the anomalies.
Then the private room—Jin’s chamber, also Mio’s bedroom.
A bed with two pillows aligned.
No—only one person has slept there for the past four years. Occasionally she would slip in. But not recently.
Enter Mio’s room.
A note.
An old paper book.
Something obscure from an unknown past.
The space filled with such cluttered remnants.
Typical of Mio’s room—so clearly the kind of place a history enthusiast would inhabit.
But no—this room, as Jin knows it, was never filled with such things.
A penguin plush toy was present.
What was so special about it? She had always loved that bird incapable of flight.
Though she had stopped wearing it in conspicuous places for the past few years, she had never parted with the penguin keychain, keeping it close at all times.
“Jin?”
May, just out of the bath, called out, her voice puzzled as she stared at Jin standing frozen.
It seemed an entire span of time had passed without notice.
That brown hair. Those brown eyes.
—No.
What Jin remembered was silver hair like a falling star, and eyes the color of a crimson ASID designation.
It wasn’t May.