The train ride to Kamisaka was quiet, the hum of the wheels a soothing backdrop to Hiyori's restless thoughts. She clutched her diary tightly, its worn edges a reminder of her resolve. Kamisaka wasn't just another location on her map—it was a thread tying her fragmented memories together.
The town welcomed her with an air of familiarity. The streets were lined with small shops, their colorful signs flickering as dusk settled in. The faint scent of grilled fish and fresh flowers wafted through the air, tugging at her heart with an ache she couldn't explain.
Hiyori found a small inn near the town's center, a modest room with a view of the main street. She set her bag down carefully and opened the window, letting the cool breeze carry in the sound of distant laughter and chatter.
She had only one thought: I'm closer to you now, Ansh.
Hiyori spent her days exploring Kamisaka, retracing the steps etched in her memories. The small shrine tucked away behind a grove of trees was her first destination. As she stood before the weathered torii gate, a wave of nostalgia washed over her.
She knelt to pray, her whispered words trembling in the quiet. "If you're listening, please… let me find him."
From the shrine, she ventured to a café by the riverside. The place was cozy, its wooden interior filled with the aroma of coffee and pastries. She sat by the window, staring out at the water, her heart racing as she imagined Ansh sitting across from her.
But he wasn't there.
The riverside bench was her last stop. The sky had turned a deep shade of orange by the time she arrived, the setting sun casting long shadows over the calm water. She traced her fingers over the worn wood of the bench, her chest tightening.
We sat here, she thought, her vision blurring with tears. We talked about dreams. About a future.
But the bench offered no answers, only silence.
Days turned into weeks, and Hiyori's search yielded nothing. She combed through every memory, revisited every landmark, but Ansh was nowhere to be found.
Her once-burning resolve began to waver. The isolation of her quest, the constant dead ends, and the weight of her unspoken emotions gnawed at her. The quiet inn room, which had felt like a sanctuary, now felt suffocating.
One evening, as she stared at her reflection in the inn's small mirror, she barely recognized the girl looking back at her. Her cheeks were hollow, her eyes dark with exhaustion.
"Maybe you're not here," she whispered to herself, her voice cracking. "Maybe you've forgotten me completely."
Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, clutching the diary against her chest as sobs wracked her body.
The next morning, Hiyori forced herself out of bed. Her reflection in the mirror was the same, but something inside her had shifted. She couldn't let despair consume her—not when she had come this far.
She decided to visit the shrine one last time before returning to the hostel for her studies. The path was quiet, the air crisp as she climbed the steps to the torii gate.
This time, she noticed something she had missed before: a small wooden plaque hanging among dozens of others, each etched with handwritten prayers and wishes. One caught her eye immediately—a name written in bold, messy strokes.
"Ansh," she whispered, her fingers tracing the letters.
Her heart pounded as she flipped the plaque over. The words on the back were faint, barely legible, but they struck her like a lightning bolt:
"Waiting, always."
The discovery lit a fire in Hiyori's chest. The message wasn't clear, but it was enough to reignite her determination. Ansh was out there—she was certain of it now.
Her time in Kamisaka was running out, but her belief in their connection was stronger than ever. She returned to her room and carefully mapped out her next steps. She would leave no stone unturned, no path unexplored.
As the sun set over the quiet town, Hiyori stood by the riverside bench once more, her heart steady. She whispered to the wind, her voice filled with both longing and hope.
"Wait for me, Ansh. I'm coming for you."