Holding on to Yushi || Tokuno Yushi

Chapter Two

Yoora sat on the edge of her bed, clutching her phone in her hand, staring at it as if it held the answers to all her questions. Just hours earlier, she had heard Yushi’s voice—his warm, familiar voice that had once been her safe haven. She could hardly believe it had really happened. The moment felt surreal, like a fleeting dream that would evaporate upon waking. Her heart raced with a whirlwind of emotions: joy, disbelief, and an aching longing that threatened to consume her.

The warmth of his voice echoed in her mind, a haunting reminder of what she had lost. How could he be calling her? Was she imagining things? She pinched herself to check, but the pain only grounded her further in reality. It was as if a thread had connected them, bridging the chasm of death that separated them. With each passing moment, her heart swelled with hope, but it was quickly followed by the icy grip of fear—what if this connection was fleeting?

As the minutes ticked by, Yoora’s resolve hardened. She had to call him again. She paced her small room, her sneakers squeaking against the wooden floor. What would she even say? Part of her wanted to scream, to demand how he was doing in the afterlife, while another part yearned to simply hear him laugh. After what felt like an eternity, she found her voice—a whisper of determination. “I have to hear him again.”

With trembling fingers, she dialed Yushi’s number, her heart racing in her chest. Each ring felt like a countdown to an explosion of emotions. What if he didn’t answer? The thought sent a jolt of panic through her. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to quell the tumult inside her.

“Hello?”

His voice was a balm to her frayed nerves, washing over her like a gentle wave. “Yoora?” he added, a note of surprise and delight in his tone.

“Yushi! It’s me!” Her heart fluttered at the sound of his name, realizing how much she had missed saying it.

“Wow, I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.” His laughter rang out, and Yoora felt a warmth spread through her, as if he were right there beside her.

“I—I just wanted to talk,” she stammered, suddenly aware of how much she had to say, yet unable to form the words.

“Talk away,” Yushi encouraged, his voice inviting and soothing.

They slipped into an easy conversation, sharing small updates about their lives. He asked about her school, her friends, and the little things that filled her days. Yoora found herself smiling, momentarily lost in the normalcy of their dialogue, forgetting the vast gulf that separated them.

“I miss our little coffee dates,” he said, and Yoora could almost envision him leaning back in his chair, a teasing grin on his face. “Did you find a new place yet?”

“I haven’t, actually,” she replied, a pang of nostalgia gripping her. “I can’t bring myself to go to our usual spots. It feels wrong without you.”

“Hey, don’t say that. You have to keep living, you know? I wouldn’t want you to stop enjoying life just because I’m… not around.”

His words struck a chord deep within her. “But it’s hard, Yushi. Everything reminds me of you.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But maybe it’s time to create new memories. You deserve to be happy.”

The conversation flowed, their connection deepening with each exchanged word. Yushi spoke of his thoughts on the afterlife, describing it in a way that made it sound almost peaceful, yet tinged with an eternal longing for those he left behind. “It’s strange,” he mused, “I can see things and feel things. I just can’t… be there.”

“Is it lonely?” Yoora asked, her voice trembling.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But hearing your voice again makes it a lot better.”

Her heart swelled with emotion. The gravity of his words settled heavily in her chest, the realization of their situation weighing down on her. She yearned to hold on to this connection, yet a part of her felt guilty for doing so.

As the call ended, Yoora lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling as tears streamed down her cheeks. She felt a bittersweet ache in her heart—a mixture of happiness for having spoken to him and despair for the reality of their situation.

Days passed, but Yoora couldn’t shake the feeling of isolation that enveloped her. At school, her friends noticed the change in her demeanor. They had always shared a tight bond, but now it felt like they were worlds apart. Her laughter was forced, her smiles brittle, and every casual conversation felt like a mask she wore to hide her turmoil.

“Yoora, are you okay?” her friend Jihae asked one afternoon after school, concern etched on her face. “You seem… off.”

“I’m fine,” Yoora replied, perhaps a bit too quickly. She could feel her heart racing as the words left her lips.

“You don’t have to pretend with us. We’re worried about you. Have you talked to someone?”

Yoora hesitated, the weight of her secret pressing down on her. How could she explain that she was still in contact with Yushi, even if only through a phone call? They wouldn’t understand. They couldn’t possibly grasp the depth of her grief or the hope she clung to.

“I just need some time,” she finally said, forcing a smile. “I’ll be okay.”

But inside, she felt the gulf between her and her friends widen, her heart heavy with the knowledge that they would never understand her pain. With each passing day, she longed for the comfort of Yushi’s voice, the only solace she had in a world that felt increasingly isolating.

Determined to honor Yushi’s memory, Yoora set out to create something meaningful. She rummaged through old photos and mementos, searching for pieces of their shared history. In the evenings, she poured her heart into a journal, detailing their memories, dreams, and the ache of loss that threatened to swallow her whole.

One night, after flipping through their photos, she felt a spark of inspiration. She would create a video montage—a tribute to the moments they had shared, the laughter, the love. It would be a way to keep him alive in her heart, a way to honor their bond even in his absence.

As she prepared for another call with Yushi, she felt a mix of anticipation and anxiety. What would they talk about this time? Would she be able to share her project with him?

With determination, she dialed his number again, ready to embrace whatever came next. The phone rang, and Yoora held her breath, waiting for that familiar voice to fill the silence.

“Hello?”

It was him. Her heart soared. “Yushi!”

“Yoora! You sound excited.”

“I am. I’ve been working on something… something special for us.”

“I can’t wait to hear about it,” he said, his voice warm and inviting.

As they began to talk, Yoora knew that this connection, however fragile, was a lifeline—an anchor in a world that felt adrift. And as long as she could hold on to it, she would keep fighting to embrace life, even in the face of unimaginable loss.