last stop.

leave

The cold, metallic hum of the empty train wrapped around them like a cocoon, the soft clatter of wheels against the tracks filling the silent space. Hotaru sat slouched on the hard plastic seat, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. His hand, still bleeding from the frantic chase, trembled as he clutched his side, wincing from the deep pain that lingered.

Emi sat beside him, her eyes clouded with worry, glancing at Hotaru's palm. Without a word, she rummaged through her purse, pulling out a small kerchief to press against his bleeding wound. "Let me help," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Hotaru nodded, too exhausted to refuse. As she wrapped the kerchief around his hand, her fingers brushing against his, she felt the warmth of his skin, and something stirred in her chest. But as she withdrew her hand, something caught her eye—something she hadn't expected.

The ticket.

It was there, tucked in a side pocket of her purse, the same ticket she had shoved in there months ago. The Bound Line's calling card, a grim reminder of what Hotaru had been running from. Emi's breath hitched, but she said nothing, her fingers tightening around the ticket briefly before she hid it again, pretending she hadn't seen it.

The train screeched to a halt, the doors opening with a faint hiss. Hotaru and Emi stood, stepping out into the cold morning air. 

But when they turned to glance behind them, the train had already vanished. 

It was gone, as if it had never been there.

They were standing in front of Emi's apartment.

Hotaru's breath caught in his throat, and his heart pounded. "What?"

Emi grabbed his wrist, her touch warm and firm, her breathing turned harsh. "We don't have time," she said, pulling him toward the street. Her pace quickened as they moved through the narrow alleys, her eyes darting to a clock near a billboard on a large building.

6 AM.

The sun had risen, casting a soft, golden light over the quiet streets, but the world felt eerily still. There were no people, no cars, no signs of life, as if they had slipped into a dream. Hotaru's legs were aching, but he followed Emi, his mind whirling with questions.

"Emi, where are we going?" Hotaru finally asked, his voice rough with exhaustion.

She didn't answer immediately. Her breath was labored, and her eyes flickered with determination. "We're going to the station," she said, almost too calmly. "I have a plan."

They reached the train station just as the digital clock overhead clicked over to 6:03 AM. Hotaru hesitated as they stood at the entrance, a feeling of dread settling in his gut. Emi turned to face him, her chest heaving, her eyes brimming with sentiment. For a long moment, they simply stood there, the quiet morning pressing down on them.

Then, shortly, Emi stepped forward and placed her hands on either side of his face. Her fingers were soft, trembling slightly as they cupped his cheeks. Hotaru blinked in surprise, his breath catching as Emi leaned closer.

Before he could say anything, she kissed him.

It was gentle, brief, but it lingered in the cool air between them, their foreheads resting against each other when she pulled away. Her eyes searched his, filled with something he couldn't quite place—something fragile, yet fiercely determined.

"You don't belong here," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. With a shaky hand, she pulled the ticket from her purse and pressed it into his hand. "You need to leave."

Hotaru's fingers curled around the ticket, his pulse racing. But as soon as he touched it, something happened. 

His gaze dropped to his pinky finger, and there it was—the red string. 

They both had the string.

Emi's string stretched into the distance, leading her to someone far away but his string coiled tightly around his own pinky, short and confined, not connected to anyone or anything.

He stared at it, his heart pounding in his chest. "Emi," he stammered, looking up at her with wide, desperate eyes. "I can't. It's—there's no one. I have no one."

Without thinking, he shoved the ticket back into her hand. But as soon as he did, the red string disappeared from both their fingers, evaporating into thin air, leaving him feeling more hollow than ever. Tears filled Emi's eyes, and she shook her head, her lips trembling.

"No," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "No, you're wrong."

Hotaru tried to force the ticket back into her hand, but her tears fell onto it, staining the paper with drops of sadness. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, the world suspended between heartbeats.

And then, Emi cried out a groan, pushing her hair back.

With a sob, she slapped Hotaru across the face, the sound sharp and jarring in the stillness. Hotaru's eyes widened, his cheek stinging as he stared at her in shock. Emi was crying hard now, her shoulders shaking as she shoved the ticket back into his hand.

"You have to go," she cried, her voice raw and desperate. "I don't care what you think. You're leaving."

Hotaru stood frozen, his mind reeling, unable to comprehend the flood of emotions coursing through him. He opened his mouth to protest, to tell her he couldn't leave her behind, not like this—but before he could say a word, a sound cut through the air.

The clock struck 6:06 AM.

And in the distance, they heard it. The Bound Line Express.

The low, haunting whistle echoed through the empty streets, growing louder as the train approached. Hotaru's heart lurched, and he could feel the weight of the ticket in his hand, like an anchor pulling him back to the place he had run from for so long.

Emi wiped her tears, her gaze hardening as she stood tall. She grabbed Hotaru's arm, pulling him toward the station. "It's here," she said, her voice steady, though her eyes were filled with a mix of fear and determination. "You don't have a choice now."

And as the Bound Line Express rolled into view, its sleek, dark form cutting through the morning light, Hotaru felt the familiar tug in his chest—the pull of the train, the call of his past.