The storm of emotions slowly calmed, and both Yuki and Mira sat in silence, the grief lingering but quieted—for now.
The sterile chill of the mortuary clung to their skin, the hum of fluorescent lights echoing in the stillness.
Takumi's body lay motionless beneath a white sheet, peaceful in death, cruelly still.
Tissue paper crumpled in their hands; their sobs had quieted, but their eyes remained wet, swollen with sorrow.
A silence heavy as stone settled between them—not empty, but filled with everything left unsaid.
Strangers once, two hearts met through loss and grief.
A gentle knock came at the door. An officer stepped in, speaking carefully.
"May I speak with Asahiro-san?"
Mira wiped her eyes with a tissue and stood. "Yes, that's me."
They stepped out into the corridor.
"It's about the autopsy permission," the officer began. "We'd like to proceed with forensics, but we need–"
"No!." Mira cut him off sharply. Her voice was stern, eyes red but resolute.
"I won't allow it. Let him rest, give him to us—his family. We'll take care of everything from here."
The officer paused, then nodded with quiet understanding.
"I understand, Asahiro-san. Please help us complete the documentation so we can officially release Takumi Asahiro's body into your care."
"I will. He doesn't have parents. It's just me now," she said, her voice softer, but firm.
Mira re-entered the room.
Yuki still sat by Takumi's side, gently running her fingers through his hair.
Her expression was blank—lost in a sea of memories—as she stared at his frozen smile.
"I'm sorry, Takumi… I'm sorry…" she whispered again and again, as if the words could turn back time.
Mira stood silently at the door. Her heart ached once more.
And her tears began to fall again.
Yuki's phone lit up again—another call. Over twenty missed calls already.
She didn't even look at the screen anymore, just placed it on the empty chair beside her as it kept ringing.
Mira glanced at it, then leaned closer. On the screen, the name Ari-chan flashed.
"He's still calling you?" Mira asked softly.
"…Yeah," Yuki murmured, barely above a whisper. "I left him with his dad at the hospital… and I came here. But for now… I just want to be with Takumi-chan."
Mira nodded gently. "I understand, Yuki-chan… but we also need to rest him soon."
"Please… just a little longer. Let Takumi stay here… with us," Yuki pleaded, her tears falling again.
It was almost time to say goodbye—and she wasn't ready.
"…Alright. I'll let you," Mira said softly, patting Yuki's head with care.
She quietly stepped out of the room, giving them one last moment.
Outside, she answered a call.
"Takamura-dono... Yes. Status is Killed in Action... I understand.
We are his only family now—Edenfall. I'll bring him there… by tonight, at the latest.
Thank you, Takamura-dono."
She ended the call with Raizen Takamura and slowly closed her eyes.
Alone in the sterile corridor, she leaned against the cold wall, breath shallow and uneven.
The weight of Takumi's death settled heavily on her chest—unspoken, unbearable.
"Sorry, Takumi… I couldn't keep my promise," she whispered,
her voice trembling, as fresh tears traced the path of the old ones.
Her unfulfilled promise.
Time had passed. It was now 7:00 p.m. The sky outside had darkened, and the city lights had begun to glow. Mira had finished handling all the documents needed to take Takumi home.
She quietly stepped back into the mortuary.Yuki was still there, motionless, sitting beside Takumi.Her eyes remained fixed on him—haunted, hollow—her heart heavy with guilt and grief.
"Yuki-chan?" Mira called gently.
"Yes, Mira-san?" Yuki turned, her voice faint.
"You haven't eaten since morning… Would you come with me for a little while?"
"I'm not hungry, Mira-san," Yuki whispered, eyes still locked on Takumi.
Mira knelt beside her. "You need to eat something. If you fall sick, you won't be able to stand by Takumi for his final farewell."
She reached for Yuki's hand. "He would want you to be there—strong. So… let's do our best for him, together, okay?"
Yuki looked into Mira's eyes, her lips trembling. Then, without a word, she leaned forward and hugged her.
"I want to be there, Mira-san," she said softly.
"Then let's eat," Mira replied, her voice warm, gently guiding her away.
"See you soon, Takumi…"
Yuki raised her hand in a gentle wave, just like she always used to.
But this time, her usual smile wasn't there.
She tried to smile—tried to hold on to that warmth—but it faltered, trembling at the edges.
It wasn't the same. It couldn't be.
Mira and Yuki sat quietly in a small ramen shop.
With the world outside spiraling into chaos, only a few places remained open—this one, nestled near the police department, was one of them.
Steam curled gently from their bowls as they ate in silence, each carrying the weight of memories.
"You know, Yuki-chan," Mira began softly, "Takumi loved noodles. Every kind—instant, fresh, spicy, sweet. He never said no to noodles."
Yuki managed a faint smile.
"Then… I'll tell him after this. This ramen place is actually really good."
Mira chuckled lightly, the sound tinged with nostalgia.
"There was a time I visited his apartment—his entire shelf was packed with instant ramen. I scolded him about nutrition, but he just grinned."
Their laughter, quiet and fleeting, flickered like a candle in the wind.
After they finished eating, the two of them walked side by side through the night, heading back to the mortuary.
Along the way, Mira shared little things about Takumi—his habits, his quirks—keeping his spirit alive through their words.
"You know, Yuki-chan… he always loved you," Mira said gently, smiling.
Yuki's laughter faded into stillness.
"…You didn't know?" Mira asked.
"I realized," Yuki replied, her voice soft. "But… I couldn't do anything about it, Mira-san. Every time I tried to talk to someone, to get support to break things off with Ari-chan… no one ever really helped. Even when I asked Takumi, he told me to stay with him."
Mira's gaze lowered, touched by the memory.
She confessed. "I asked him to stop loving you. I told him it would only hurt him."
She took a breath.
"But he… he realized something. That day, you weren't looking for advice. You were looking for someone to stand beside you. He couldn't do it then… so he made me a promise. He said, 'Someday, I'll save her.'"
Yuki's lips trembled. Her tears welled up again.
"And he did, didn't he?" Mira smiled gently. "He kept his promise—to me, and to you."
Yuki looked at Mira, and a soft smile broke through her sorrow.
"So instead of saying sorry to him," Mira continued, "why don't you thank him, Yuki-chan? I know he forgave you a long time ago. But I also know… he would've wanted to hear you say thank you."
Yuki wiped her eyes and nodded.
"I will, Mira-san… thank you."
Even as her voice smiled, her eyes still carried the sadness of goodbye.
Thank you for saving me.
Yuki and Mira quietly stepped back into the mortuary room. The stillness inside felt heavier now, as if the walls themselves shared in their grief.
They approached Takumi together.
"Hi, Takumi…" Yuki's voice was soft, wavering.
"Mira-san told me you loved noodles, right? We just ate at a little ramen shop nearby. It's small, but the food was really good…"
She tried to smile through her tears. "I hope… someday, you'll get to try it too, Takumi-chan."
Mira watched in silence, her own tears slipping down her cheeks.
Seeing Yuki speak to him like that—like he was still here—tightened something deep inside her chest. It was a kindness too painful to witness.
"Yuki-chan…" Mira finally spoke, gently.
"You need to go home for now. I'll come pick you up tomorrow—for Takumi's farewell."
Yuki turned toward her, her expression crumbling.
"So… the time has come?" she asked.
Mira nodded quietly. "Yeah… it has."
Yuki stepped closer to Takumi, her voice trembling as she leaned near him.
"Takumi Asahiro… thank you.
Thank you for helping me through college.
Thank you for the birthday keychain… I still keep it.
Thank you for saving me that night.
Goodbye, Takumi… thank you for everything."
Her tears rolled freely, even as she tried to keep smiling and waving—just like she always did when saying goodbye to him.
Mira's breath caught. Her own tears flowed again.
"You did the right thing, Yuki-chan," she whispered, stepping forward to place a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"He must be so happy to hear your words."
Yuki turned into her arms, and Mira embraced her—two hearts bound by grief, holding onto the same boy they both loved in different ways.
Bound by shared pain, their bond grew deeper.
For one last time, again, thank you.