Footsteps In The Dark

My Purpose

Present: 2017

The sky wept a gentle drizzle, as if nature itself mourned the loss of Hinata Tachibana. Takemichi Hanagaki stood motionless before her shrine, his gaze fixed on the photo that captured her perennial smile, a stark contrast to the solemn air that enveloped the funeral. Memories cascaded through his mind—her laughter greeting him at her doorstep, the harrowing screech of tires, and his own voice, a desperate whisper across time, vowing eternal love.

Trembling fingers reached out, caressing the incense-laden air, as if he could somehow bridge the chasm between life and death. A single tear escaped Takemichi's eye, trailing down his cheek in silent homage. Beside him, Naoto's sobs pierced the heavy silence, raw with the agony of Hinata's absence.

Hinata's mother approached him, her gaze soft and sad. "Takemichi, you've grown up so much," she said gently, pressing something into his hand. It was Hinata's favorite necklace – a gift he had given her years ago. "She must have loved you very much."

He clutched the necklace tightly, more tears flowing as he nodded, unable to find words. Just then, two black cars pulled up, and guards stepped out, surrounding a familiar figure – Ayame. The sight of her, now a grown woman, shocked him to his core; He remembered that just yesterday in the past they were all high school students together. He watched as she paid her respects at the funeral, her face etched with sorrow.

Takemichi tried to approach her but was quickly stopped by the guards. Ayame turned around, her eyes widening in shock when she recognized him. "T-Takemichi? It's been years..."

"Can we talk?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ayame hesitated for a moment before grabbing his hands and leading him to a secluded area of the funeral. "We don't have much time; I'm being watched," she explained, her eyes darting around nervously. Takemichi couldn't help but notice how different she seemed – the strong, vibrant girl he once knew now appeared guarded and vulnerable.

"Where's Mikey?" Takemichi's voice was barely above a whisper, his concern for his friend pouring into the space between them.

Ayame's eyes dimmed, her gaze drifting away. "I haven't seen him in years," she admitted, the sadness unmistakable. "He changed...drifted away, and I..."

"Drifted towards Kisaki," Takemichi finished for her. The question hung heavy in the air: How did she end up married to Tetta Kisaki?

"He was there when I needed someone. Mikey wasn't." Her voice cracked, a testament to the pain of lost love and the resignation of settling for a presence rather than a soulmate. "But now that I see Kisaki for who he really is, It's too late."

"Draken?" Takemichi inquired, dreading the answer.

"Prison. For murder." Ayame's whisper was suffused with guilt, a burden not her own yet carried on her shoulders. "And Hina..." She choked back a sob, "That was Kisaki's doing too. I've been powerless, Takemichi—nothing but a bystander to his cruelty."

"Back then, things were different," she continued, a wistful note creeping into her voice. "I miss those days—the ones we spent together in high school. The innocence of it all."

Takemichi felt the weight of their collective yearning—for the simplicity of the past, for the promise of youth untainted by the shadows that now clung to their lives. In that secluded corner of grief and memory, they shared a moment of silence, a testament to the dreams they once harbored and the stark reality that now held them captive.

Takemichi's next question died on his lips as a shrill ringtone sliced through the somber atmosphere of the funeral. Ayame's fingers trembled slightly as she retrieved her phone, her eyes widening at the caller ID before she pressed it to her ear. The color drained from her face, her posture stiffening as if a shadow had passed over the sun.