Passing under a magnificent two-story gate, Shouko and Sakuta entered the temple grounds. No one else was around; the place was shrouded in a solemn silence.
They started by paying their respects in the main hall.
Once that was over, Shouko said, “It’s this way,” and led the way to the back of the grounds.
Ahead he could see a graveyard.
There was a trough, and they filled a bucket at it. Sakuta carried the pail, following Shouko through the rows of gravestones. The only sounds were their footsteps…and the water sloshing in the bucket.
From behind, Shouko looked a bit tense.
Sakuta himself was taking deep breaths, unconsciously trying to settle his nerves.
At last, Shouko stopped before a grave.
“……”
Silently checking something.
“I think this is it,” she whispered.
“You think? Your first time here, then?”
“Yeah.”
The inscription merely contained a dedication to their ancestors, nothing to indicate who slept here.
But he could guess.
Sakuta knew why they’d come all this way. Shouko had invited him to go see Touko Kirishima and then brought him here.
That was all he needed.
So without further questions, he put his hands together. Shouko already had.
In silence, they cleared away the weeds, rinsed the stone, and placed the flowers on the grave. They filled the water basin. Shouko pulled some incense out of her bag; they each lit half and laid it down.
Once again, they closed their eyes, hands together.
“……”
“……”
When Sakuta raised his head, Shouko was still praying. When he studied her features, he detected emotions that were impossible to describe in a few simple words.
Gratitude was first and foremost.
But she wasn’t just thankful.
The length of the silence made that painfully obvious.
At last, her eyes came up and found Sakuta. She started with a wan sort of smile, but that gradually grew earnest. Her eyes fell on the list of names placed next to the grave.
Sakuta followed her gaze.
This stone was engraved with the names of those resting here.
He followed it from right to left, the years becoming more recent.
At the far left, the newest entry…
Only sixteen when she died.
Four years ago. December 24.
And the name…Touko Kirishima.
“Christmas Eve, four years ago,” Shouko said softly. “She went out to see a friend and was hit by a car.”
“……”
“They called an ambulance, and she was taken to the hospital, but she never woke up.”
“……”
“And they found a donor card in her belongings.”
He didn’t have to hear the rest.
But Sakuta waited for Shouko to finish.
Her eyes locked on Touko Kirishima’s name as she continued.
“It was Touko Kirishima who became my donor.”
He’d seen this coming when she’d brought him here.
“…….”
But hearing it from Shouko’s lips left him speechless. His heart was unsure how to take this news. He was at a loss.
They’d come to see Touko Kirishima and learned she had already passed. The truth—she’d saved Shouko’s life where Mai and Sakuta could not.
All this time he’d assumed she was a total stranger, but she’d had a huge impact on his life. On Mai’s and Shouko’s as well.
And this revelation left him reeling.
“Sakuta, I once told you…”
“……”
He turned his eyes her way, probing.
“There was no artist named Touko Kirishima in any future I experienced.”
That sounded familiar.
“You said that before you moved to Okinawa.”
Shouko nodded.
“I believe that’s because every future I saw, I had either your heart or Mai’s.”
There was a light in her eyes that said more than her words possibly could. Sakuta wasn’t about to miss what that meant.
“In other words, ‘Touko Kirishima’ started uploading videos because we changed the future?”
“It adds up, right?”
“But she’s already gone. Ever since Christmas Eve, four years ago.”
The numbers on that list were undeniable.
“And ‘Touko Kirishima’ started taking off, like, two years back. That doesn’t make sense. She’s not a ghost, is she?”
“That’s why I invited you to join me here. I wanted to know more about the girl who gave me a future.”
Shouko was very serious about this.
He could see more than just gratitude in her eyes. A hint of sorrow. A tearful smile, at peace, yet tinged with grief.
“I imagined you’d feel the same way.”
“You’re even talking like my Shouko now.”
That got a laugh out of her.
But her smile soon faded. Her gaze shifted behind him—to the graveyard’s entrance.
Sakuta heard footsteps and turned to find a woman coming their way, carrying flowers and a bucket. She was in her midforties.
She spotted the two of them and bobbed her head. They bowed back.
“Shouko Makinohara, right?” she asked hesitantly.
“That’s right. I’m Shouko Makinohara.”
“Thanks for coming all this way to see Touko. I’m her mother.”
She bowed low again.
“Thank you for answering my letters. Thank you very much.”
Shouko bowed low herself.
Her words of gratitude seemed to carry so much weight.
And that prevented Sakuta from sticking his oar in. He wasn’t needed here. There was a hint of tension between Shouko and Touko’s mother, each holding back. They were both measuring the distance between them. But with a real warmth behind them that overrode all of that.
Each putting the other first.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Thanks for the lovely flowers. I’m sure Touko’s delighted.”
Touko’s mother joined them in paying her respects, then said this was no place to talk and invited them over to her house.
Sakuta and Shouko climbed into their rental and followed Touko’s mother’s car. On the way, Shouko filled Sakuta in.
“After the heart transplant, I sent letters to the donor’s family through a support organization. I wrote a lot about my life. How I started my second year of junior high, went to the beach, how tall I was getting…”
“But you didn’t know the donor’s name?”
“No. I wasn’t even sure the family had agreed to accept the letters. It can’t have been easy for them.”
“But it’s very you to keep sending them anyway, Makinohara.”
He meant that.
“Last month, after high school entrance exams, I wrote a letter saying I’d been admitted to the school I’d wanted to go to. ‘If I hadn’t received a heart transplant, I would never have become a high school student at all.’”
Shouko spoke softly, her voice tender. Brimming with gratitude. Just listening to her filled Sakuta’s heart with warmth, and he had to fight off tears. There was a persistent tingle right behind his nose.
“And that got you an answer?”
“Her mother wrote back. She’d read every letter I sent. That’s when I found out my donor had also been a first-year high school girl and her name was Touko Kirishima.”
He didn’t need her to spell out the rest. That reply had led to them writing back and forth directly, and to today’s visit.
The car in front of them turned off onto a side street. Sakuta turned his blinker on and made the same turn.
Not five minutes later, their cars pulled up to a farmhouse with a barn built next to it.