The evening sky had taken on an unusual darkness, and the air was colder than usual as if every raindrop were a delicate snowflake. Under the shelter of a vinyl umbrella, Kenji's gaze lowered to Kaoru's tombstone, barely visible in the darkness of the quiet night and the downpour's cold embrace. The surroundings held no eerie feeling for him, but as memories flooded back, he felt a growing sense of sorrow seeping into his heart.
How could he forget the moment Kaoru had shared his excitement about having a brother? The boy had dreamt of all the things they could do together, promising to protect his younger sibling, even though he was the one who cried easily.
Kenji couldn't help but smile at the innocent vow.
Now, standing in front of the cold tombstone, he spoke softly, as if addressing the spirit of his long-lost friend. "I wanted to fulfil your wish, Kaoru… But maybe it was my selfish desire—to free myself from guilt—that led to this outcome."
A lone chuckle escaped him, but it soon turned into a sob, barely heard over the sound of the rain pouring down around him. Kneeling on the wet step stones, Kenji felt the vinyl umbrella betray him as it rolled away with the icy wind, leaving him exposed to the unnoticed cries of the clouds above.
He felt helpless.
"It's not just you whom I hurt, Kaoru… My selfishness and ignorance also hurt Yuuji's feelings. If only I hadn't made that call, Sakamoto-kun would remember— he would know who you are."
Kenji raised his eyes to look at Kaoru's tombstone, almost imagining the boy he used to play with standing before him, reaching out to touch his warm cheek.
The imaginary image brought a small smile to his face.
As if Kaoru were truly standing there, Kenji continued, "I couldn't turn back time. I couldn't be the brother you wanted to be. How can I find forgiveness, Kaoru?"
In his mind's eye, Kaoru remained silent, his gaze empty. Kenji didn't understand all that was conjured before him. He knew it was only his imagination, and yet he yearned for it to be what he needed it to be. He longed for the imaginary boy to speak words that could ease the burden he had carried for so long.
But the silence persisted, and it felt as though he hadn't been granted forgiveness.
Clutching his trembling lower lip, Kenji closed his eyes, bowing his head lower, feeling unworthy of facing the lonely tombstone.
***
Under the same sky, in another part of the city, Sakamoto had a few raindrops land on his face as he closed the window of his room. He settled back at his study desk, where textbooks and notebooks lay scattered. It was still early to call it a night, but he closed all the books nonetheless.
Instead, he retrieved an album from a drawer. As he opened it, the pages came to life with photos capturing precious memories of a family he wasn't familiar with.
Attempting to envision himself in every picture affixed to the album, Sakamoto exerted considerable effort to conjure a smile. Nevertheless, regardless of his attempts, he couldn't find a sense of belonging in any of the images, whether it be his present self or his childhood version.
A profound feeling of estrangement enveloped him as if he were a stranger in those pictures. With each passing moment, his imagination struggled to stay, and thus, the once-forced smile on his face gradually waned.