I stood there, stunned and disbelieving. My heart pounded in my chest as panic set in. What had just happened? Where had she gone?
Frantically, I pulled out my phone and called Hirose. He answered on the third ring, sounding groggy. "Hey, Kei. What's up?"
"Hirose, it's Akari! She… she disappeared right in front of me. Do you remember Akari from work?" I babbled, my words tumbling over each other.
There was a pause. "Kei, who's Akari? What are you talking about?"
I felt a cold chill run down my spine. "Akari Akiyama! She started working with us recently. How can you not remember her?"
"Kei, are you feeling okay? I don't know any Akari Akiyama. Are you sure you're not imagining things?" Hirose said, a hint of confusion in his voice. "Is this some kind of joke? 'Cause it's not funny, man."
"It's not a joke!" I snapped, frustration and fear boiling over. "She was real! I'm not making this up!"
"Alright, alright. Calm down," Hirose replied, trying to placate me. "Look, maybe you just need some rest. You're probably stressed out."
I couldn't take it anymore. "Forget it," I said angrily, ending the call abruptly.
Next, I called Minori, hoping for a different response. She picked up after a few rings, her voice cheerful. "Hey, Kei! What's up?"
"Minori, it's about Akari. Do you remember her? She started at work last Friday," I said, my voice trembling.
There was a brief silence. "Kei, are you okay? I don't know anyone named Akari. You're really worrying me."
"Minori, please! She was at your birthday party! How can you not remember?" I pleaded, desperation creeping into my voice.
"Kei, I think you need to talk to someone. Maybe take a few days off work. You're really scaring me," Minori said gently, concern evident in her tone.
My heart sank further. "Fine. Thanks, Minori," I said, hanging up.
Finally, I called Mr. Fuji, even though it was late. He answered gruffly, clearly irritated. "Suzuki, do you have any idea what time it is?"
"Mr. Fuji, please, it's about Akiyama Akari. She disappeared, and no one remembers her," I said, my words rushing out in a frantic stream.
"Akari who? Suzuki, have you lost your mind? Calling me at this hour with some delusional story. Get some rest before you come back to work," he snapped, and hung up.
I stood there, phone in hand, feeling utterly lost. No one remembered Akari. It was as if she had never existed. Panic and confusion overwhelmed me. I started wandering the streets of Akihabara, searching aimlessly, hoping for some sign of her, some clue to explain what had happened.
Hours passed, and the city began to quiet down as the night deepened. My mind was a whirlpool of fear, disbelief, and sorrow. How could this be happening? I couldn't lose her again. Not like this.
As dawn approached, a desperate idea came to me. Maybe Akari's parents could provide some answers. But how would I find them? Then I remembered that Akari and her family had moved to Hokkaido 20 years ago, because of her dad being promoted. Were they even still there? It was a long shot, but it was all I had.
Using my phone, I quickly booked the first flight out of Tokyo to Hokkaido. The journey was a blur, my mind racing with questions and fears. I couldn't shake the image of Akari disappearing from my arms, her final words echoing in my head.
When I arrived in Hokkaido, I made my way to the local registry office, hoping to find any information on the Akiyama family. After explaining my situation to the clerk, she provided me with an old address, noting that the family had moved there about twenty years ago.
I thanked her and hurried to the address, my heart pounding. When I reached the house, an elderly couple answered the door. I recognized them from the photos Akari had shown me at the park.
"Excuse me," I began, my voice trembling. "Are you Mr. and Mrs. Akiyama?"
"Yes," the woman replied, her eyes narrowing with curiosity before recognising him. "My, how you've grown. Is that you Suzuki-chan?"
"Yes, I'm Kei Suzuki," I said, struggling to keep my composure. "I was a childhood friend of your daughter, Akari. I need to know what happened to her."
The couple exchanged a pained look before the man spoke. "Akari… our Akari passed away in a car accident twenty years ago."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "No," I whispered, shaking my head. "That's not possible. I've been with her. She started working with me. We spent the day together just yesterday."
Tears welled up in the woman's eyes. "We don't know how to explain it, but our daughter has been gone for two decades. Maybe… maybe she found a way to reach out to you."
I fell to my knees, the weight of their words crushing me. Akari was gone. The love of my life, the promise we made as children—it was all a cruel twist of fate. The despair I felt was beyond words, a bottomless chasm that swallowed me whole.
Unable to process the truth, my heart ached with a pain that seemed unending. The memories of our time together, our promise, her disappearance—they haunted me with every step. I couldn't escape the overwhelming sense of loss, the despair that gripped my soul.
Akari had been the colour in my life, my hope. And now, she was gone, leaving behind only a shadow of the life we could have had together. The world felt cold and empty, and I couldn't see a way forward without her.
Akiyama's parents told me where her grave was before I had left, but first there was something I needed to do.
Seeing my anguish, Mr. Akiyama knelt down beside me and gently placed a hand on my shoulder. "Her grave is at the local cemetery," he said softly. "It's not far from here."
"I need to go there," I whispered, struggling to stand. "But first, there's something that I need to get."
With a look of understanding, they gave me directions to the cemetery. I thanked them and stumbled away, my mind set on one task. I needed to buy symbolic flowers and, more importantly, an engagement ring—something to honour the promise we had made and the love we had shared.
I found a small florist shop nearby and chose a bouquet of white lilies—Akari's favourite flowers, symbolising purity and the promise we held dear. The next stop was a jewellery store, where I selected a simple yet elegant engagement ring. It felt surreal, buying a ring for someone who was no longer here, but it was the only way I could think to honour our bond.
With the flowers and ring in hand, I made my way to the cemetery. The sky was overcast, a fitting backdrop to my sombre mood. As I walked among the headstones, the weight of my grief threatened to overwhelm me.
Finally, I found her grave. The inscription confirmed what my heart already knew: Akari Akiyama, beloved daughter, lost too soon. Tears streamed down my face as I knelt beside her resting place.
"Akari," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Sorry. I'm so sorry. I remember our promise."
"I REMEMBER OUR PROMISE AKARI!" I lightly shouted in the silent cemetery, hoping my voice would reach her. "S-so please, come b-back to me…"
I placed the flowers gently on her grave, their fragrance mingling with the cool morning air. Then, with trembling hands, I opened up a box containing the engagement ring and placed it down, a symbol of the promise we made and the love that had transcended time and space.
"I love you, Akari," I said, my voice choking with emotion as I knelt on the ground. "I always have, and I always will. Even if no one else remembers, I will never forget you."
The enormity of my despair was beyond words. I had lost her once, and now I had lost her again in a way that defied understanding. The world felt cold and empty, and I couldn't see a way forward without her.
As I sat there, the tears flowed freely, my heart shattered into a thousand pieces. The realisation that I was the only one who remembered her, the only one who carried the weight of our promise, was almost too much to bear. The never-ending extent of my despair seemed insurmountable, an abyss from which there was no escape.
The journey ahead would be long and painful, but for Akari, I would endure. I would remember. And I would love her always.
As the evening sun set, I found myself back at the train station, staring blankly at the tracks. The enormity of my grief was suffocating, a relentless tide that threatened to drown me. I had lost her once, and now, I had lost her again, in a way that defied understanding.
The realisation that I was the only one who remembered her, the only one who carried the weight of our promise, was almost too much to bear. The never-ending extent of my despair seemed insurmountable, an abyss from which there was no escape. And yet, amidst the darkness, I clung to the fragile hope that somehow, somewhere, Akari was watching over me, her love a beacon in the endless night.