As dawn broke, the once-shadowed forest began to stir with the first light of morning. The pale, early sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting a soft, golden glow over the clearing. The flowers laid on the grave appeared vibrant in the new light, their colors more vivid against the damp, dark soil.
The forest slowly came alive with the sounds of birds chirping and small creatures rustling in the underbrush, as if the world was unaware of the grave's solemn significance. The cool morning air carried a sense of renewal, contrasting sharply with the somberness of the scene.
Back to the city, the Yagi house was filled with the sound of Inko's worried voice as she made phone calls from the kitchen. She had been up since dawn, trying to track down Izuku, her anxiety growing with each unanswered inquiry.
Inko dialed another number, tapping her foot nervously as it rang. When the call connected, her voice was quick and tense. "Hello, this is Inko Yagi. I'm calling to see if Izuku stayed over at your house last night? Oh, he didn't? Alright, thank you."
She hung up, her brow furrowing deeper with worry. Just then, Izumi emerged from her room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She noticed her mother's distressed expression and felt a pang of guilt.
"Mom, what's wrong?" Izumi asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
Inko looked up, her eyes filled with worry and regret. "Izumi, your father told me yesterday that Izuku was staying at a friend's house. But I've called everyone he knows, and no one has seen him."
Izumi felt a cold dread settle in her stomach. She tried to maintain a calm facade. "Maybe he's just out somewhere, or he could've made a new friend we don't know about," she suggested, her voice wavering slightly.
Inko shook her head, her worry intensifying. "I don't know, Izumi. It's not like him to disappear without telling us. Especially not now... I've been trying so hard to reconnect with him, to show him that I care, but he's been so distant." Her voice cracked, the weight of her past neglect and current fears pressing down on her.
Izumi felt a lump form in her throat. She was torn between her sympathy for her mother and the terrible truth she was concealing. "Maybe we should give it a bit more time," she suggested, hoping to delay the inevitable.
Inko sighed, looking at her phone with a mix of desperation and determination. "I just can't shake this feeling that something's wrong. What if he's hurt, or...?" She trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
Izumi wrapped her arms around her mother, offering what little comfort she could. "We'll find him, Mom. I'm sure he's alright."
As they stood together, the door to Toshinori's room opened, and he stepped out, looking equally troubled. He joined them, sensing the tension in the air.
"What's happening?" Toshinori asked, trying to sound calm and reassuring.
Inko looked at him, her voice thick with emotion. "I've called all of Izuku's friends, but no one has seen him. You said he was staying over, but where could he be? I think we need to report him missing to the police."
Toshinori took a deep breath, feeling the gravity of the situation. He nodded, realizing they could no longer avoid the truth. "Let's give it a little more time, just until noon. If he hasn't come back or called by then, we'll contact the police."
Inko hesitated, but then nodded reluctantly. "Alright, but please, let's keep trying to find him. I'm so scared for him."
---
The family waited anxiously as the morning stretched on. Noon came and went with no sign of Izuku. Inko's anxiety turned to a gnawing fear, and Toshinori knew they could delay no longer.
Toshinori took the lead, dialing the police department. Inko watched him, her heart in her throat, while Izumi stood by, feeling the walls of their deception closing in. Toshinori explained the situation to the officer on the other end of the line, providing details about Izuku's last known whereabouts and describing his appearance.
The police assured them they would begin an investigation and asked for any additional information that might help. Inko provided recent photos of Izuku and shared the names of his friends and possible places he might have gone.
As they hung up the phone, Inko collapsed into a chair, tears streaming down her face. "I can't believe this is happening," she sobbed. "I've been trying so hard to reconnect with him, to show him that I love him. Now he's gone, and I don't know if he knows how much I care."
Toshinori knelt beside her, holding her hand. "We'll find him, Inko. He knows you love him. We all do."
Izumi stood silently, the weight of her complicity pressing down on her. She watched as her mother wept, feeling the full impact of the situation. The police were now involved, and the lie they had been maintaining seemed fragile and ready to shatter. The truth felt inevitable, and Izumi couldn't shake the fear of what would happen when it all came out. The family's fragile bond, already strained by past neglect and current guilt, seemed poised to break under the weight of their secrets.
As the day wore on, the Yagi household was enveloped in an oppressive silence. The hours passed in a blur of worry and fear, punctuated by the occasional phone call from concerned friends and family. Inko sat on the couch, her eyes red and swollen from crying, clutching a picture of Izuku. Toshinori paced back and forth, his face a mask of guilt and anxiety. Izumi sat quietly, the weight of their secret pressing down on her like a physical burden.
By evening, the police had begun their investigation, and a missing persons report was officially filed. The gravity of the situation was starting to sink in for everyone involved. Inko, in a moment of quiet desperation, whispered to herself, "Izuku, please come back. I have changed, I won't abandon you again."
Toshinori put a comforting hand on her shoulder, though his own mind was racing with fears of what would happen if the truth about Izuku's fate were to come out. Izumi, sitting nearby, felt the tension in the room growing unbearable. She excused herself and went to her room, where she curled up on her bed, trying to block out the overwhelming sense of dread.
As the night deepened, the atmosphere in the house grew colder, each family member lost in their own thoughts and fears. The quiet hum of the television, tuned to a news channel covering the ongoing search for Izuku, was the only sound that broke the oppressive silence.
---
Outside, far from the warmth of home and family, the night had fully settled over the outskirts of Musutafu. The forest, dense and shadowy, was bathed in a pale, eerie light from the moon. The canopy above rustled softly in the breeze, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow on the forest floor.
A solitary figure moved through the trees, his presence barely more than a whisper against the backdrop of the nocturnal forest sounds. He walked with a purpose, a small bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand, their delicate petals stark against the darkness. His destination was clear, and soon he arrived at a small clearing, where the ground was freshly disturbed.
The man stopped at the edge of the grave, looking down at the earth with an unreadable expression. Kneeling, he placed the flowers gently on the grave, their pale blooms a stark contrast to the dark soil. He bowed his head for a moment, the air around him heavy with the weight of unspoken words.
After a long silence, a faint smile appeared on his lips. "It's about damn time," he murmured, his voice carrying a tone of finality and satisfaction.
