Despite the extremely demanding deadlines of my writing schedule, I still managed to fit in a sliver of spare time here and there to stop by the Urashima Tunnel. Usually, I just sat right at the entrance and started mumbling incoherently to myself, maybe talk about how work was coming along on my current manga. Every once in a while, I tried calling Kaoru’s name. It was a bit like visiting someone’s grave to pay respects, though I never went so far as to leave flowers on the ground outside or anything. Although I did write a little letter for him each and every time I visited the tunnel, in which I’d relate whatever was going on in my life along with my updated contact information, and left it in a bottle inside the tunnel like he’d done for me—though I never saw any indication that he or anyone else had ever opened it up and read a single one.
Tell me, Tono-kun. Just how much longer do I have to wait?
Or was waiting my first mistake?
I knew it was pointless to waste my breath on questions that would only go unanswered. The moment they left my lips, they would be swallowed up into the fathomless void that was the Urashima Tunnel. Just like everything else.
A year into my first serialization deal, my story finally hit its stride. I could see the broad strokes of where I wanted it to finish out. All I had to do was pile on chapter after gripping chapter and pepper in enough foreshadowing throughout to make the big finale the best it could possibly be. Thankfully, I’d finally gotten the hang of my rigorous publishing schedule, and I even had a little bit of free time now—though perhaps by corollary, this also meant that I spent a lot more time thinking about Kaoru. The hotter months were always the hardest; they reminded me of that dreamlike summer when he and I spent nearly every single day together, and we were both each other’s worlds entire.
Those had been the fullest, most memorable months of my life. Every day a new thrill, a fresh adventure to discover. Yet lately, thinking back on it would bring about a sharp pain in my chest, like I’d been stabbed with a knife. Then the anxiety seeped in through the stab wound to slowly gnaw at my heart.
What if Kaoru had made it out of the Urashima Tunnel a long time ago? What if he was secretly living a new happy life in a better place, unbeknownst to me? What if he simply wanted nothing to do with me anymore, and that was why he hadn’t attempted to contact me? Eventually, it got to the point where the anxiety was so strong, I thought it might bore a hole in my chest.
Another two full years came and went.
My first manga series was finally complete. Not discontinued or truncated in the slightest; I managed to put every bit of the story I wanted to tell on paper. I was also extremely satisfied with how well I’d wrapped things up. It was the exact perfect conclusion I’d envisioned before the story even started publication. The readers seemed to love it too.
Yet my depressive funk showed no signs of letting up. Now that I’d lost my serialized gig, I couldn’t coast through life on that alone. It was like I’d been thrown off the rails, tossed back to fend for myself in the jungle at night with no direction on where to go. My editor told me that I should work on submitting a rough draft for a new story concept. That made sense, obviously. As an author, once I’d finished telling one story, it was time to move on to the next. That was simply the cycle of being a professional manga artist. Yet, though I now had full confidence in my abilities as a storyteller, I wasn’t completely convinced that this was what I, Anzu Hanashiro the human being, truly wanted. Or to put it more simply, I was lost, unsure of where my life should go next.
Should I try to go look for Kaoru in earnest, or should I write a new manga?
I had to admit, I’d entertained the idea of going into the tunnel and chasing him several times over the years, even despite the massive head start he had by now. Yet every time, I remembered the words in his letter and felt like I owed it to him to really pour my all into my manga career. That, combined with the simple fear of taking on the tunnel and its unknowable nature all by myself, always made me reticent.
Plus, like I said, Kaoru had been in the tunnel for quite some time—probably going on a full day now, by my estimation. One would have thought that would be enough time to make it to the end of any tunnel, barring supernatural shenanigans. The fact that he was (to the best of my knowledge) still inside seemed to imply that something truly bad had happened. Maybe he’d fallen into some sort of trap and couldn’t get out without help, so he was starving to death. Maybe he’d encountered some horrible abomination and been gravely injured. My mind drafted worst-case scenarios one after another, and with each “what if,” my chest grew tighter and tighter. A part of me desperately wanted to rush in and help him. However, every time I stood before that first torii, I got cold feet and froze in place, unable to move a muscle.
I was a grown adult; gone was the invincible teenager I had once been. I had actual responsibilities now, as well as my long-term financial stability and well-being to think about. The thought of putting myself in any sort of danger was pretty terrifying. Even scarier than that, really, was the thought of going in and discovering that Kaoru was nowhere to be found. Like, what if he’d come out of the tunnel and left Kozaki behind without saying a word? Then I’d have thrown away all the success I’d built over the past few years for nothing.