That night, so many things happened. It was almost overwhelming.
My contact with Touka—after so long—had finally resumed. She told me everything... not with tears, not with anger, just with a quiet honesty that carried years of silence behind it.
The very next day, we met at Hiro's café, a cozy little place tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. The gentle hum of mellow jazz music blended with the smell of roasted coffee beans. It felt like the perfect backdrop for something this fragile.
Touka sat across from me, her hands wrapped around a warm mug of cappuccino. I listened as she slowly unraveled the thread of her story—what I had missed from her life since that day she vanished from ours.
"So that's how it was..." I said softly, staring into my untouched drink.
"Yeah," she replied, giving a short laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes. "My life is exactly the worse story our high school friends used to imagine, huh?"
A silence settled between us. Not the awkward kind, but the sort of silence that's thick with memories.
Then, something in her expression shifted.
Touka's eyes lowered, her voice barely above a whisper. "You know... I never stopped watching you."
I blinked. "What do you mean?"
She placed her cup down gently. "Even after I left... I stayed in contact with Uguisu-senpai. We messaged each other, sometimes just small things. But through her... I could still feel like I was a part of your world."
That revelation stunned me. So, she had known—everything?
"So... you knew all this time?" I asked.
"More or less," she said, her gaze drifting to the window, where the soft light of the setting sun painted golden streaks across the wooden floor. "But Himeya, Uguisu-senpai always told me... how happy she was to be by your side. That she never regretted a single moment."
For some reason, hearing that made my heart feel warm. Not guilt. Not regret. Just... warmth.
I looked at her again, the girl I once couldn't reach, now sitting across from me like she'd never left.
"Touka... I want to continue my story," I said. My voice shook, just a little.
She smiled—not the kind from before, but a real, gentle one. "...Then I'll be cheering for you," she said.
We spent the rest of the afternoon there. Talking, laughing occasionally, sometimes just enjoying the silence together. When the orange sky finally faded into the soft blue of evening, it was time to go.
But just as I stood up, she called out.
"Himeya, wait," she said, pulling something from her bag. It was an old phone—scratched, faded, but clearly something she'd kept for a long time.
"I want you to take this."
"Huh? Why?"
"Just take it. Whatever's left... I'll leave it in your hands."
I took the phone from her, uncertain.
What did she mean by that?
We parted ways soon after, and I walked back to my apartment, the old phone clutched gently in my hand.
I couldn't shake off the feeling that something had been passed to me—not just a device, but a fragment of a story long left untold.
And now... maybe it was my turn to finish it.
That night, a notification echoed from Touka's old phone.
The screen lit up, casting a dim glow across the room. Curiosity tugged at me—I reached for the phone and unlocked it without a second thought.
There was a single new message.
"A message from… Shin Himeya…?"
My breath caught in my throat.
That name—my name—displayed on Touka's screen.
How...?
I had no recollection of ever sending her anything recently—especially not from this phone. My fingers trembled slightly as I tapped the message.
"Quit joking around, you're Touka, right?"
It was... from me?
I stared at the words, heart pounding. The timestamp confirmed it—the message had just arrived.
"I never sent this," I whispered.
Above that message was another:
"You will regret it."
A chill ran down my spine.
Was this…?
A message from my past self, meant for me in the present…?
"Ugh—?!"
A sharp pain exploded in my head. My knees gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor.
Then I saw her.
Standing just a few feet ahead, bathed in a silvery, ethereal light… was a woman who radiated divinity. Her presence felt both nostalgic and terrifying, like a forgotten dream clawing its way back to reality.
"It's been a while," she said, her voice calm, ageless.
"Attila…?" I managed to whisper.
The goddess smiled gently. "Tell me, do you regret the path you chose?"
"...What do you mean?"
"Your life… with Uguisu."
My thoughts scrambled, colliding with a memory—the message on Touka's phone, the regret it warned of.
"Could it be… you're the one who—"
"—Touka-chan did everything she could," Attila interrupted softly. "Now it's your turn to try."
"AGHH!"
A searing pain ripped through my skull as if someone had slammed it against a wall. My vision blurred. Darkness crept at the edges of my mind.
Suddenly—memories.
Fragments of our high school days flooded in. Laughter, tears, choices made and moments lost. Everything I thought was long buried came surging back.
"The price… is your memory," Attila whispered. "Even so—do you still wish to continue down this path?"
"You can read my mind...?" I muttered, barely able to form the words.
Attila gave a soft, knowing laugh.
"You've always been such a stubborn little brother."
It hit me then—this divine being, always watching from afar, guiding me without ever showing herself... She had been part of my life all along.
Attila… was always by my side.
Even in the darkest moments, when I was lost and broken—she had never truly left me.
"This will hurt a little," she warned. "You'll need to endure it."
Then it began.
One after another, memories poured into my head—alternate memories—a world where I made a different choice… where I didn't choose Uguisu-san.
A world that could have been… and might still be.
The room spun, my breath caught between memories I never lived and emotions that weren't mine—yet felt deeply familiar.
In this flood of new-old memories, I saw myself on a different path. A version of me that turned away when Uguisu reached out. One who didn't linger in that spring-lit classroom where she'd offered her heart.
It wasn't just a change in romance. It was a different rhythm, a reshaping of the soul. We weren't just close. We were inseparable. We made mistakes, we argued, and somehow, we always found our way back to each other.
I gasped, my body trembling. These weren't illusions. They were real—real enough to make me doubt everything I thought I knew about my life.
"…Is this," I muttered, still on the floor, "…what could've been?"
Attila nodded slowly, her expression unreadable, as if weighed down by centuries of watching humanity waver at crossroads.
"Every choice creates a branch," she said. "And each branch blooms or withers in its own way. But there are some paths so strong… they echo across time."
I raised my eyes to hers. "And you wanted me to see this… why?"
"Because you are not finished, Himeya."
Those words pierced through me.
"You believe the story's over," she continued. "That the choices you've made have locked everything in place. But Touka's appearance… the phone… even this encounter… They are reminders."
"Reminders… of what?"
"That the past and future can still be rewritten."
I stared at her, stunned.
"But how?" My voice cracked. "I can't erase what I had with Uguisu-san. I can't undo the pain. Or… or Touka's disappearance. I can't fix it all just by wishing I could."
"No," she said gently. "You can't. But stories aren't only written by the grand decisions. Sometimes, they're changed by a quiet conversation, by showing up when someone needs you… or by holding onto something others forgot."
She raised her hand, and from her palm, light scattered like dust—each mote dancing like tiny stars. As they fell onto the phone still in my hand, the screen glowed once again.
A new message appeared,
[A place where everything began.]
My breath caught.
"That place…" I whispered.
Attila's form began to fade, like a mist dissolving in sunlight.
"Go," she said, her voice echoing now from somewhere both near and far. "Just listen to your heart."
And then she was gone.
The silence that followed was impossibly loud. My apartment, dimly lit by the bedside lamp, felt emptier than ever. But something had shifted inside me.
...
Hmm...?
What am I doing again...?