The morning air was crisp, kissed with the scent of early spring, but Ayaka barely noticed as she stood on the platform.
A soft wind tousled her hair as the train rumbled into the station with a mechanical hum that seemed to echo the tension in her chest.
Makoto stood silently beside her, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his green eyes occasionally glancing her way, reading every subtle flicker of emotion on her face.
On her other side, Takeshi yawned as he sipped lukewarm coffee from a vending machine cup, but his usual snark was absent.
Even he knew the gravity of this trip.
The train doors hissed open.
"This is it." Takeshi muttered as they stepped aboard. "No turning back."
Ayaka took a window seat, pulling her coat tighter around herself despite the warmth of the train's interior.
Makoto sat next to her, Takeshi across the aisle.
As the train slowly began to move, the world outside blurred into green and grey streaks.
Tokyo drifted behind them, but her thoughts raced ahead—toward Fukuoka, toward Akihiko.
The silence stretched for almost an hour, broken only by the occasional conductor's announcement and the rhythmic clatter of the rails.
Then Takeshi leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Ayaka."
She turned, blinking out of her daze.
"I need to ask you something." His tone was unusually serious.
"What if... things don't turn out how you want? What if there are unexpected outcomes waiting for you in Fukuoka?"
Ayaka didn't answer immediately.
She stared out the window for a long moment, watching a field pass by in the distance.
Then she inhaled slowly, as if the breath itself was gathering all her strength.
"If it turns out... that he doesn't want me anymore, or if I was just part of some phase in his life... then this will be the last time."
Takeshi furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"
"I mean..." she said, voice steadier now, "This is my last straw. I've been holding on for a year. Hoping. Hurting. Wondering. If what I find there is a door slammed in my face… then I'll let go. I'll give up on him."
Her voice didn't tremble—but her fingers clenched tightly around the hem of her coat.
She turned back to the window, eyes glimmering with unshed emotion. "I'll finally walk away."
Takeshi leaned back, stunned into silence.
Makoto didn't say a word either, but his jaw tightened.
He looked at Ayaka out of the corner of his eye, his heart twisting.
He had always known Akihiko was her deepest wound—one no amount of time or distraction could truly mend.
But hearing her say she was ready to give up... it scared him more than anything.
Because if Akihiko turned her away again, Makoto wasn't sure she'd recover.
He shifted slightly, lowering his voice so only she could hear.
"If that happens… I'll still be here."
She didn't answer, but the way her shoulder ever so slightly leaned toward him said enough.
And so the train sped forward, carrying with it their fears, hopes, and the weight of a reunion long overdue.
------
The train rolled into Fukuoka just past noon, wheels screeching softly as it slowed into the station.
Compared to the electric rhythm of Tokyo, Fukuoka moved at a gentler pace.
The sky was overcast, and a cool breeze swept through the open platform, fluttering the hem of Ayaka's coat.
She stepped off the train, her suitcase clicking quietly behind her.
Though the air smelled fresh with salt from the nearby bay, her chest felt tight, as though something heavy had followed her across prefectures.
Makoto walked beside her in silence, casting an occasional glance her way.
Takeshi lagged a few steps behind, staring at his phone with a scowl.
"Still no reply from Hasegawa." he muttered. "But he sent me the hospital's name this morning. It's real. He didn't lie."
Makoto nodded. "Let's check in first. Then we'll go find him."
Ayaka could only nod. Her voice felt caught in her throat.
------
Their hotel was a clean, modest business lodge nestled between a small family-owned ramen shop and a quiet stationery store.
The scent of brewed tea wafted from the cafes across the street.
Inside, the lobby was warmly lit and quiet, the receptionist soft-spoken and polite.
Takeshi handed over the booking confirmation and returned with three keycards in hand.
"Okay. Two rooms—Ayaka, you get your own." he said, tossing her the key. "Miura and I will share."
Makoto gave a small, knowing shrug when Ayaka looked his way, clearly relieved she wouldn't have to share with either of them.
"Relax, it's not like I snore!" Takeshi added dryly as they waited for the elevator. "Unless I dream about deadlines."
Ayaka didn't respond.
She was staring at the floor, fingers fiddling with the keycard.
She looked as if she hadn't heard a word.
Makoto watched her quietly.
He knew she was already preparing herself for the worst.
------
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime.
Their floor was quiet, lined with muted carpet and warm lighting. Ayaka entered her room first, pausing by the door.
The space was neat—sterile, almost. White sheets, a small desk, a kettle. Her suitcase thudded softly as she set it down.
She stared at her reflection in the darkened TV screen, touching the chain around her neck—the necklace Akihiko had once placed there with such care.
"I hope he knows I still wear this even after everything..."
She flinched at the thought.
------
Later, they regrouped outside the hotel lobby.
The sky had darkened slightly with rolling clouds, but it hadn't started to rain.
Takeshi pulled out his phone again. "So. Toru said he's at Fukuoka City General Hospital. He's still using the name Akihiko Nakamura. So unless he's wearing a fake mustache and pretending to be a dermatologist, we should find him easily enough."
"Do we just walk in?" Ayaka asked, her voice tight.
"No." Makoto said gently. "We'll go in slowly. If we're lucky, we'll catch him off-shift."
Ayaka clutched her coat.
Her lips parted like she wanted to say something—but she simply nodded.
"Let's go." she said.
And just like that, the journey toward the truth began—with her heart braced for impact, and the two men beside her quietly preparing to catch her if she fell.
-----
The streets of Fukuoka buzzed quietly in the midday sun, but for Ayaka, every sound felt muffled beneath the heavy pounding of her heart.
She stood outside the entrance of Fukuoka City General Hospital, her fingers clutched tightly around the strap of her bag as she stared at the building like it was a fortress of answers.
Behind her, Takeshi and Makoto exchanged a glance—neither said a word.
They stepped inside.
Cool, sterile air greeted them, mingling with the soft murmur of footsteps and quiet voices.
Nurses passed with clipboards, patients waited calmly in rows of chairs, but none of them mattered.
Ayaka walked straight to the reception desk.
Her voice barely held steady.
"Excuse me… I'm looking for Dr. Akihiko Nakamura. Is he in today?"
The receptionist, a young woman with neatly tied hair, typed quickly into her system, eyes scanning the screen.
She then offered an apologetic smile.
"I'm sorry. Dr. Nakamura is off duty today. He's not in the hospital."
Ayaka blinked. "Off…?"
"Yes. It's his scheduled day off. He won't be back until tomorrow morning."
For a moment, it felt like the entire room spun.
Takeshi stepped beside her. "Are you sure? We came from Tokyo. Can you at least tell us where he might be today?"
"I'm really sorry." the receptionist replied gently, "But I can't give out personal information."
Makoto slowly exhaled through his nose. "So we came all this way and missed him by one day?"
Ayaka stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat.
Takeshi turned to her. "Ayaka—"
But she was already walking away, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she headed to a quiet bench in the lobby and sat down.
Her shoulders were stiff, her eyes wide.
Takeshi and Makoto followed her without a word.
"He was here yesterday…" she murmured. "So close…"
Makoto sat across from her, his elbows resting on his knees. "We'll find him." he said, though even he sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
Takeshi pulled out his phone, already texting Toru again. "He better pick up this time. I'm not walking out of this city without answers."
Ayaka said nothing.
She simply stared at the floor, her fingers absently tracing the chain of the necklace hidden beneath her blouse.
Every false sighting, every hallway they searched for, every passing figure in a lab coat had led her nowhere.
And now—this.
A day too late.
Makoto looked at her for a long moment, his voice soft but edged with urgency.
"Are you okay?"
Ayaka shook her head slowly. "No. I'm not."
Then, in a whisper that made both men tense—
"I want to see him so badly..." She looked at them with tears streaming down her face.