I stepped off the stage, each footfall heavier than the last, and made my way toward the back of the auditorium. The muffled applause still echoed faintly behind me, like a ghost of what once was. My chest tightened as uncontrollable tears streamed down my face—tears for memories too precious to hold and too painful to relive.
In the silence of the backstage hallway, just as I reached the shadowed corner, a voice called out.
"You haven't changed one bit, Himeya."
That voice.
I froze.
No. It couldn't be—
I turned, and there she was.
Her crimson hair shimmered under the soft silver light of the moon that spilled through the high window. Those same vermilion eyes that once brimmed with laughter and light now gazed at me, calm and steady.
She smiled. "It's been a long time, Himeya."
My breath caught in my throat. The name escaped me like a prayer I hadn't uttered in years. "Touka…?"
She laughed gently, brushing her hair behind her ear. "You still remember me. I'm relieved."
"W-why…? How—?"
She stepped closer, her boots echoing faintly against the wooden floor. Then, without hesitation, she stood right next to me, just like the old days.
"I heard about Uguisu-senpai," she said quietly.
Her voice was kind, but there was something buried within it—a sorrow, subtle yet deep.
I lowered my gaze. "Why… why did you disappear?"
Her smile faded, and her expression softened into something far more human—far more fragile.
"There were things I needed to do… burdens I couldn't share. I didn't want to involve you, or anyone else."
"What do you mean by that…?" I asked, the weight of the past pressing down on me once more.
She hesitated, then asked, "What about Senpai…? In her final moments… was she happy?"
"I… I don't know," I murmured, my voice nearly breaking. "Maybe she was… maybe…"
Touka placed her hand gently on my back. "As her husband, you shouldn't be so uncertain, you know."
I flinched at her words, but… she was right.
For the first time in a long while, my sadness began to fade, replaced by a strange warmth.
"You really haven't changed, Touka…"
She chuckled. "I could say the same for you."
We both laughed quietly, the sound awkward yet comforting.
It had been so long since we laughed together.
Would we still be like this if Uguisu were still here?
"…Himeya," she whispered.
"Yeah?"
"I've always been watching you."
I blinked, stunned. "…Huh?"
"After Uguisu-senpai passed, you became like a hollow shell. It was like you had no purpose left…"
"…You're right," I said, unable to deny it. I looked up at the moon, letting its pale light wash over me. "I was living, but not alive."
"But now," she said, "you have what Senpai always wanted you to find."
"And that is…?"
She smiled. "Light."
"Light…?"
Touka reached into her coat and pulled out a phone.
"I think I should show you this."
That phone—it was so old. My eyes widened.
"Wait… isn't that the phone from back when we were in high school?"
"Just watch," she said, unlocking it.
On the screen was a folder titled 'For Shin Himeya'.
She tapped on it.
There was a single video file.
She hit play.
The moment the video started, my heart seized.
A familiar room filled the screen—the club room.
And in the center of it all, sitting in her usual chair, was Uguisu.
"Uguisu-san…?"
My breath caught. She looked just like she did back then. Her gentle expression, her nervous fingers brushing her hair behind her ear, her soft voice…
I didn't realize I was crying again until I felt Touka's hand on my cheek.
She just smiled at me—no words, just that same, serene smile.
My eyes returned to the video.
It felt like stepping into a forgotten dream.
In the frame, Uguisu looked worried. Something about her eyes betrayed a storm she wasn't ready to show.
Then a voice—Touka's voice—came from off-screen.
"Alright, Uguisu-senpai. Please say something to your boyfriend, Shin Himeya."
"D-Do I really have to…?" Uguisu stammered.
"The freshness of feelings is important, right? I think Senpai doesn't want to forget. That's why I thought recording this would make a beautiful memory," Touka explained gently.
"Y-Yeah, I guess that's true… but… do we really need to record it? Wouldn't it be better to just tell him in person…?"
Touka giggled. "There's a reason for the recording. You know, humans… we forget. Over time, that fresh feeling, that pulse in your chest, it fades. That's why, while your heart still trembles, let's keep it alive. Keep it close."
"…That sounds logical, but still…"
"It's not that hard, is it? Just be honest. Say what you feel. Like, 'Himeya-kun, I love you, I love you so much'~"
"I-I'm not saying it like that!"
"Oh? You're not?"
"I mean… it's not that I don't feel that way… it's just… I'd rather not say it that way…"
"Then say it in your own words, Uguisu-san… And besides, if we save this video, even if you two fight later, you can make up by watching this!"
"Fight…? I don't think we'll ever fight."
"No one ever thinks they will."
"But… as long as Shin-kun doesn't get tired of me, I think we'll be fine."
"…What's that supposed to mean? Are you trying to sound all romantic?"
"N-No! That's not it! It's just… I can't imagine this happiness fading. I really can't. Falling in love with someone… it's the happiest feeling I've ever known. And right now, I feel it with every part of me."
She paused.
"…I don't think I'll ever forget this feeling."
"You're totally romanticizing this!" Touka's voice teased from off-screen. "I didn't think you'd say something that cheesy~!"
"W-What?! W-Wait! That part got recorded too!?"
"Yep, all of it."
"H-Himeya-kun! Don't watch this! Please don't watch it!!"
Touka laughed. "Too late~!"
Uguisu's face turned bright red as she lunged for the phone, and the screen shook with her flustered attempt to steal it back.
The image blurred, but the joy in her voice, the soft laughter, the warmth—they were all so vividly real. Like she had never left. Like she was still here.
I couldn't hold back the sobs.
My knees buckled slightly, and I sat down on the nearby bench, burying my face in my hands.
Touka knelt beside me, her hand brushing my tear-stained cheek.
"Such a crybaby," she said softly.
"S-Shut up…"
I wiped my tears away, clumsily and half-heartedly.
"Thank you, Touka… really."
She smiled and sat beside me.
"You're welcome."
That warmth—faint, flickering, fragile—like a candle in the dark.
The light she spoke of…
Maybe it had been there all along.