A Temple Without Wishes
Act I - Setup
FADE IN:
EXT. COUNTRYSIDE TRAIN – DUSK
A small local train snakes through lush green rice fields and low hills. The sky is tinged orange and pink. Inside, a weary man, KOJI MIYAMOTO (34), sits by the window. He gazes blankly at the passing scenery – the golden rice paddies and distant silhouette of his hometown. His face is gaunt, eyes tired. A faint bandage peeks from the cuff of his shirt around his left wrist.
Koji absently thumbs the edge of a dog-eared notebook on his lap. He's lost in thought, the train's rhythmic clatter the only accompaniment.
INT. LOCAL TRAIN STATION – EARLY EVENING
The train screeches to a halt at a tiny rural station. Koji steps off, carrying a small suitcase. The platform is almost empty. Cicadas hum loudly in the warm summer air.
He pauses, breathing in the scent of his hometown – a mix of distant ocean breeze and earthy rice paddies. A middle-aged woman, YUKI MIYAMOTO, approaches cautiously. She is Koji's mother, her face lined with worry and relief.
YUKI: (softly, emotional) Koji… welcome home.
Koji offers a weak smile. Yuki steps forward and wraps her arms around him gently.
KOJI: (quietly) Hi, Mom.
Yuki pulls back, studying his face.
YUKI: I'm so glad you're here. Come, let's go home. Dinner's ready.
Koji nods silently. They walk out of the station into the dimming light.
EXT. MIYAMOTO HOUSE – MINUTES LATER
They arrive at a modest traditional Japanese home on a quiet street. The wooden gate creaks as Yuki pushes it open. Koji follows, eyeing the familiar garden — overgrown a bit with weeds — and the old swing set he used to play on, now rusty.
INT. MIYAMOTO HOUSE, LIVING ROOM – CONTINUOUS
They step inside. The house interior is humble and a bit outdated, but warm. Koji removes his shoes at the entryway. Yuki heads to the kitchen, where a simple meal sits on the table.
YUKI: I kept it warm. (gestures) Sit, eat something.
Koji sits at the low table. There's rice, grilled fish, miso soup — comfort food. Yuki watches him pick at the food.
KOJI: (manages a small smile) It's good. Thank you.
Yuki nods, relieved he's eating. She sits opposite him.
YUKI: How was the trip?
KOJI: Fine. (a beat) The town hasn't changed much.
Yuki hesitates, carefully choosing her words.
YUKI: People were happy to hear you might visit. Daisuke asked about you just yesterday.
Koji's chopsticks pause mid-air at the mention of DAISUKE.
KOJI: (quietly) Daisuke… he's still in town?
YUKI: Oh yes. He took over his family's store. You should see him. He'd be thrilled.
Koji nods absently. An awkward silence.
Yuki's eyes drift to Koji's bandaged wrist, which he quickly hides under the table.
YUKI: (gently) Koji… I won't pry. I'm just glad you're here with me.
Koji's eyes lower in shame and gratitude.
KOJI: (voice low) I'm sorry to worry you.
YUKI: (smiles sadly) You're my son. Just rest now. Home is here for you.
Koji swallows hard and nods. Yuki pats his hand and rises.
YUKI: I'll draw a bath for you.
She exits. Koji exhales, alone now. On a nearby shelf, something catches his eye: a framed photograph.
He stands and walks over. In the photo, a younger Koji (about 19) grins, holding a script in hand. Beside him stands a young woman with a bright smile – EMI TSUKIMURA – her arm linked with his. They look happy, hopeful.
Koji's expression darkens with regret. He gently picks up the frame, thumb brushing over Emi's face. A memory stirs…
FLASHBACK – EXT. TRAIN STATION (15 YEARS AGO) – LATE AFTERNOON
Younger Koji (19) stands on the same station platform, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He averts his eyes as Emi (18) stands before him, tears streaking her cheeks.
EMI (YOUNGER): (voice trembling) You're really leaving? Without even… saying goodbye?
YOUNGER KOJI: (pained, avoiding her gaze) I'm sorry. I have to go. They accepted my play in Tokyo… I can't pass this up.
Emi clutches a small paper slip tightly in her hand, knuckles white.
EMI (YOUNGER): When will you come back?
Koji hesitates.
YOUNGER KOJI: (whispering) I… I don't know.
Emi's face crumples. She presses the slip of paper into his hand suddenly.
EMI (YOUNGER): Here. It's my wish… But it won't matter now.
He looks at the folded ema (prayer slip) in his hand, confused. Before he can reply, the train horn sounds. Emi turns and runs off down the platform, sobbing. Koji steps toward her, wanting to call out—
END FLASHBACK.
INT. MIYAMOTO HOUSE, LIVING ROOM – NIGHT (BACK TO PRESENT)
Koji blinks back to the present, heart heavy. He realizes he's gripping the photo frame tightly. He sets it down carefully, hands unsteady.
From the bathroom, we hear Yuki's voice off-screen.
YUKI (O.S.): Koji, the bath is ready!
Koji wipes the corner of his eye with his sleeve, regaining composure.
KOJI: (calls out) Coming!
He takes one last look at the photo of his younger self and Emi, then forces himself to turn away.
CUT TO:
EXT. TOWN STREET – MORNING
Bright sunshine. Koji walks down a narrow street in his hometown, dressed in casual clothes and a baseball cap. The street is lined with old wooden shops and houses. Some are shuttered, others open, their owners sweeping the front steps.
Koji passes a small greengrocer stand.
SHOPKEEPER: (pleasantly) Oh! Koji-kun, is that you?
Koji stops. The shopkeeper, an elderly woman, beams at him.
KOJI: (bows politely) Hello, Mrs. Sato. It's been a while.
MRS. SATO: Quite a while! My, you look thin. City life not feeding you well?
She laughs kindly. Koji musters a polite chuckle.
KOJI: (softly) Something like that.
MRS. SATO: It's good to see you back. Your mother must be happy.
KOJI: Yes. I'm just visiting for a bit.
MRS. SATO: (lowering her voice kindly) We heard you were doing big things in Tokyo, writing plays! You always were so talented in the drama club.
Koji's smile stiffens at the praise he no longer feels he deserves.
KOJI: (modest) Not that big, really…
Before the conversation can continue, a male voice calls out from down the street.
DAISUKE (O.S.): Koji! Hey, Koji!
Koji turns to see DAISUKE (34) jogging toward him, waving enthusiastically. Daisuke is broad-shouldered with a friendly grin – the picture of a content hometown family man, albeit with a youthful spark in his eyes.
KOJI: (surprised) Daisuke.
They meet and Daisuke claps Koji on the shoulder warmly.
DAISUKE: Man, it's good to see you. (jokingly) Thought you forgot about us small-town folk.
Koji tries to smile genuinely.
KOJI: Never.
Mrs. Sato waves them off with a knowing smile. The two men begin walking along the street.
DAISUKE: When did you get in?
KOJI: Last night.
DAISUKE: How long are you staying?
KOJI: (shrugs) Not sure yet. A little while.
Daisuke nods, sensing the ambiguity but not prying.
They walk in comfortable silence for a moment, passing the old schoolyard where children in uniforms play baseball. Koji watches the kids, a distant look in his eyes.
DAISUKE: A lot's changed, huh?
KOJI: Some things. (gestures at school) That used to feel so big… now it's small.
Daisuke chuckles.
They continue on, crossing a small bridge over a stream. Dragonflies skim the water's surface. The two friends lean on the railing for a moment, looking at the water.
DAISUKE: You know, we all followed your career as much as we could. (grins) The one that got away, making it big in Tokyo.
Koji's jaw tightens slightly.
KOJI: (quietly) I wouldn't say "big."
DAISUKE: Well, you wrote a few plays, right? We were proud. (pauses) I… I saw an article that your last show closed early. Sorry, man.
Koji stiffens, clearly embarrassed. He nods, not meeting Daisuke's eyes.
KOJI: Things didn't go as planned.
Daisuke studies Koji's face thoughtfully, noticing the lines of stress, the heaviness.
DAISUKE: It's okay, you know. Not everything works out.
Koji forces a tiny smile of appreciation.
A breeze picks up, rustling nearby trees. In the distance, wind chimes tinkle. Koji looks up the road. He spots a stone torii gate partly visible around a bend, nestled among tall cedars – the old shrine.
KOJI: (pointing) The shrine… It's still there?
DAISUKE: (following his gaze) Hmm? Oh, the Hiei Shrine? Yeah, though it's practically abandoned. The priest passed away a few years back and no one really maintains it now.
Koji gazes at the torii gate and the stone steps beyond, partly covered in fallen leaves.
KOJI: I remember going there as a kid during festivals.
DAISUKE: (smiles) We used to catch stag beetles there in summer vacation, remember?
Koji nods distantly.
DAISUKE: (continues) But these days, not many visit. Except… (chuckles) you know, the old tradition.
Koji turns to him.
KOJI: Old tradition?
DAISUKE: You've been gone so long you might've forgotten. It's silly, really. People tie their abandoned wishes to the shrine's camphor tree. Things they gave up on.
KOJI: (softly) A temple of lost causes, huh…
DAISUKE: Yeah. A temple without wishes, in a way – at least, without living ones. The idea was if you wrote down a wish you can't hold onto anymore and leave it there, your heart can move on without it.
Koji listens intently. The concept resonates painfully with him.
KOJI: (murmurs) Letting go…
Daisuke notices Koji's expression and clears his throat, changing the subject gently.
DAISUKE: Hey, I was about to grab a coffee at Mika's cafe. Want to join?
Koji tears his eyes from the shrine path.
KOJI: I'll catch up with you later, okay? I… think I'll take a walk first. Clear my head.
Daisuke follows Koji's glance back to the shrine and gives an understanding nod.
DAISUKE: Sure. It's good to have you back, Ko.
He pats Koji's shoulder and starts walking back towards town.
Koji stands alone for a moment on the bridge, then, decision made, he heads toward the shrine.
EXT. HIEI SHRINE – LATE MORNING
Koji approaches the shrine grounds. The red paint on the torii gate is faded and peeling. Beyond it, stone lanterns line a path of cracked stepping stones leading to a small Shinto shrine. The roof of the shrine is sagging; weeds sprout between the stones.
Koji steps carefully, dried leaves crunching underfoot. The summer cicadas drone loudly here, underscoring the silence of human absence.
He reaches the old camphor tree beside the shrine. Its branches stretch wide, casting a dappled shade. Tied to low-hanging branches and to a series of wooden racks nearby are dozens of weather-worn papers and ema plaques. They flutter gently in the breeze.
Koji approaches a rack and examines a sun-bleached ema – a wooden plaque – hanging by a frayed string. In faded ink, it reads: "I wish I could have saved our store. I'm sorry, Father." Koji's eyes soften.
He moves to another, a simple paper slip tied in a knot. "I wish I had the courage to say I loved her." The next: "I wish for my pain to end." Some of the writing is smudged, the hopes long abandoned and left here to be forgotten.
Koji swallows, feeling like an intruder in a garden of private sorrows. He steps under the camphor tree's canopy. There, a few papers have come loose and litter the ground. One paper slip, its edge caught on a root, flaps against the dirt. Koji kneels and gently picks it up.
The paper is yellowed and brittle in his hand, the ink slightly blurred but legible. As his eyes scan the words, he sucks in a sharp breath. Written in careful, emotional strokes:
"I wish Koji would come back to me."
Below, a small signature: – Emi.
Koji's heart pounds. He blinks, reading it again to be sure. "I wish Koji would come back to me." A rush of emotions floods him – shock, guilt, sorrow. His vision blurs with gathering tears.
EMI (V.O.): (gentle, distant, as if from memory) I wish Koji would come back to me…
In the quiet of the shrine, Koji hears the echo of Emi's voice saying those words. He presses the slip to his chest, hands trembling.
A vivid memory overtakes him:
FLASHBACK – EXT. HIEI SHRINE (15 YEARS AGO) – LATE AFTERNOON
Young Emi (18) stands alone under the camphor tree, tears in her eyes. She writes furiously on a slip of paper, hands shaking. It's the same wish: "I wish Koji would come back to me."
She ties the paper to a low branch with a rough knot, then steps back, wiping her eyes. Young Emi bows her head, lips moving in a silent prayer. The wind gently lifts the paper slips around her, and for a moment she looks up at the sky, eyes full of heartbreak.
Young Emi turns and walks away down the shrine steps, leaving the freshly tied wish fluttering behind her.
END FLASHBACK.
EXT. HIEI SHRINE – BACK TO PRESENT
Koji sinks onto the stone steps at the base of the tree, clutching Emi's note. He stares at the words written 15 years ago, feeling the weight of her pain and longing, preserved here all this time. A single tear rolls down his cheek.
He whispers into the empty air:
KOJI: (voice trembling) Emi…
Koji bows his head, overcome. The cicadas drone relentlessly, the summer heat pressing in. In this moment, Koji's regret crystallizes into resolve.
He carefully folds the fragile note and places it securely inside his notebook, as if safeguarding a treasure. With determined eyes still shiny with tears, he stands up.
KOJI (V.O.): (firm, to himself) I'll find you, Emi. I'll make this right… somehow.
Koji wipes his face, takes a deep breath, and steps away from the camphor tree, leaving the other silent wishes swaying in the breeze.
CUT TO:
Act II - Confrontation
INT. MIYAMOTO HOUSE, KOJI'S ROOM – NIGHT
Moonlight filters through the shoji screen. Koji sits at the small desk in his childhood room. Spread before him are scattered pages of an old script he once wrote. He isn't looking at them; instead, he's holding the folded wish note from the shrine.
On the desk lies his phone, screen lit with a half-composed text message to an unsaved number. He has typed "Emi…" but not more. He doesn't even know if her number is the same after all these years. With a sigh, he locks the phone and sets it down.
Yuki appears at the doorway, knocking softly.
YUKI: Still up?
Koji turns in his chair, slipping the note away.
KOJI: (manages a faint smile) Yeah. I was just organizing some old papers.
Yuki steps in and sits on the edge of his futon.
YUKI: Daisuke called. Said you two ran into each other.
KOJI: (nods) We did. It was nice to see him.
Yuki studies Koji's face. Even in the dim light, she senses the change in him since last night – a newfound intensity beneath his exhaustion.
YUKI: Koji… you seem different today. More… alive.
Koji looks at his mother, surprised. He hadn't realized how numb he had been until now.
He stands, pacing a little in the small room.
KOJI: I found something, Mom. At the shrine.
He hesitates, unsure how to explain without going too deep.
YUKI: The shrine? Goodness, I haven't been there in ages.
Koji takes a steadying breath.
KOJI: Do you remember Emi Tsukimura?
Yuki tilts her head, recalling.
YUKI: Emi… of course. You two were inseparable back then. (smiles sadly) I remember how heartbroken she was when you left.
Koji's face tightens with guilt.
KOJI: I never spoke to her again after I left for Tokyo. I… I handled it all terribly.
Yuki nods silently, letting him continue.
KOJI: She wrote a wish and left it at the shrine. A wish for me to come back.
Yuki's eyes widen slightly. She covers her mouth with her hand.
YUKI: Oh, Emi…
KOJI: It's from fifteen years ago, but it was still there. (voice low) I can't imagine how much I hurt her.
Yuki stands and moves to Koji, placing a comforting hand on his arm.
YUKI: Koji, the past… it's heavy, I know. That girl truly cared for you.
KOJI: (earnest) I need to find her, Mom. I need to apologize. To… to make things right if I can.
Yuki looks at her son carefully. For the first time in a long while, she sees purpose in his eyes.
YUKI: Do you know where she is?
KOJI: Daisuke mentioned she moved to Kyoto years ago. I might be able to find her through her parents or some old contacts.
Yuki nods slowly, worry and hope mingling on her face.
YUKI: It might stir up painful memories for both of you.
KOJI: I've lived with these memories every day. She… she deserved so much better than what I did.
Yuki squeezes his arm.
YUKI: (softly) Then follow your heart. But, Koji – be gentle, for both her sake and yours.
Koji places his hand over his mother's, gratefully.
KOJI: I will.
Yuki offers a reassuring smile and heads back toward the door.
YUKI: Get some sleep. You have an early train, I'm guessing.
Koji nods. As Yuki slides the door shut, Koji sits again at his desk. He opens his notebook to the page where Emi's wish is tucked and glances at it one more time. He then takes a pen and scribbles a note to himself on a fresh page: "Find Emi. Tell the truth."
CUT TO:
EXT. COUNTRY TRAIN STATION – MORNING
The first train of the morning pulls in. Koji, now with a small backpack, stands on the platform saying goodbye to Yuki. The sky is clear and the air fresh.
Yuki hands Koji a furoshiki bundle – a wrapped lunch.
YUKI: (with a gentle smile) Some lunch for the trip.
KOJI: Thanks, Mom.
She fusses with his collar briefly, motherly concern in her eyes.
YUKI: Take care of yourself. And… good luck.
Koji nods and impulsively gives her a quick hug. She holds him tightly for a second.
KOJI: I'll call you.
He boards the train. As it departs, Koji watches Yuki on the platform growing distant until she disappears from view.
INT. TRAIN – LATER
Koji sits by the window as the countryside scrolls by. He absentmindedly traces a finger over the notebook in his lap. His reflection in the glass shows anxiety and anticipation.
He pulls out his phone and scrolls through contacts – many names from his Tokyo life, none who can help him now. He opens a search app and types "Emi Tsukimura Kyoto". After a moment, the results load. We see the faint reflection of a social media profile: Emi Tsukimura, 34, Librarian at Kyoto City Library. There's a small profile picture of a smiling woman who looks like an older version of Emi.
Koji's breath catches. He's found her.
He jots down an address from the library listing.
Clutching the notebook, Koji closes his eyes, steadying himself. The rhythmic clack of the train fades into…
BEGIN MONTAGE:
• EXT. CITYSCAPE – AFTERNOON: The train snakes into the outskirts of Kyoto, a mix of old temples and modern buildings.
• EXT. KYOTO STATION – LATER: Koji steps out of a bustling train station into the city. He shields his eyes against the bright sun, dwarfed by the station's modern architecture and the flow of city dwellers around him.
• EXT. STREETS OF KYOTO – SERIES OF SHOTS: Koji walks through a busy street market, through tranquil old alleys lined with wooden machiya houses, past a distant view of Kiyomizu-dera temple perched on the hillside. He checks a scribbled note for directions.
• EXT. KYOTO CITY LIBRARY – LATE AFTERNOON: Koji stands across the street from a medium-sized public library building. He stares at the entrance, heart pounding.
END MONTAGE.
EXT. KYOTO CITY LIBRARY – CONTINUOUS
Koji takes a deep breath and crosses the street, entering the library.
INT. KYOTO CITY LIBRARY, LOBBY – LATE AFTERNOON
The library is calm and quiet. Sunlight pours through large windows onto shelves of books. Koji steps in, looking around nervously.
At a counter, a librarian is sorting returned books. It's EMI TSUKIMURA (34). Her hair is a bit shorter now, neatly tucked behind her ears. She wears a simple blouse and cardigan. There's a gentle, composed air about her as she works, oblivious to Koji's presence.
Koji's breath catches as he finally sees her in person after so long. For a moment, he just stands there, heart in his throat. He notices small details: she wears a silver bracelet he remembers from youth, her face a bit more mature but still the same Emi.
Steeling himself, Koji approaches the counter slowly. Emi senses someone there and turns with a polite customer-service smile.
EMI: Hello, can I help y—
Her words die as she makes eye contact with Koji. She blinks, not trusting her eyes.
Koji gives a small, uncertain smile.
KOJI: (softly) …Hello, Emi.
Emi's eyes widen. She unconsciously presses her fingertips to the counter to steady herself.
EMI: (whisper) Koji…?
They stare at each other, the library's hush amplifying the sound of both their breaths. Emi's face cycles through shock, recognition, and a guarded confusion.
KOJI: It's me. I… I hope it's okay that I came.
Emi straightens herself, quickly glancing around. A couple of patrons read at tables, paying them no mind. Emi steps out from behind the counter, instinctively lowering her voice.
EMI: How… why are you here?
Koji swallows, words catching. Now, face to face, he realizes how difficult this is.
KOJI: I came back to my hometown. I found out you were in Kyoto. I… wanted to see you.
Emi's lips part in disbelief. She glances aside, collecting herself.
EMI: After fifteen years, you "wanted to see me"?
There's no malice, just genuine puzzlement layered over her shock.
KOJI: (gently) I know. It's sudden. I'm sorry.
An awkward beat. Emi's professional composure wars with personal turmoil.
EMI: I'm… working right now. (touches her temple, unsettled) This is a surprise, to say the least.
KOJI: Of course. I'm sorry to show up like this. I just didn't know how else to—
Another librarian passes by, giving a curious glance. Emi musters a polite smile to the colleague until they walk away. She then turns back to Koji.
EMI: (quiet) I have a short break in a few minutes. There's a café next door.
Koji nods gratefully.
KOJI: Okay. I'll wait for you outside.
Emi gives a quick, uncertain nod. Koji turns and walks out of the library, exhaling heavily the moment he's out of her sight. Emi remains behind the counter, taking a moment to steady her breathing, hand over her heart.
EXT. CAFÉ TERRACE – EARLY EVENING
A small café on a quiet side street. Koji sits at a wrought-iron table on the outdoor terrace under a red paper umbrella. Two glasses of iced coffee sit, one untouched (Emi's).
Koji fidgets with his own glass, clinking the ice. Finally, Emi emerges from the library next door and approaches. Koji stands politely as she arrives. Up close, the tension is palpable; she offers a polite half-smile.
EMI: Sorry to keep you waiting.
She sits. Koji sits after.
KOJI: No, it's fine. (gestures) I, um, ordered you an iced coffee. I hope that's okay.
Emi eyes the drink, then nods.
EMI: Thank you.
She takes a sip. They sit in silence for a moment, neither knowing where to begin. Around them, the day's light is mellowing; a cicada buzzes in a nearby tree, and distant traffic hums.
KOJI: (quietly) You look… well.
Emi tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture Koji remembers.
EMI: I've been… well enough. And you?
Her eyes flicker to the bandage on his wrist, which is partly visible now. Koji notices and subtly pulls his sleeve to cover it.
KOJI: I… I've been better, honestly.
Emi nods slightly, not pressing that yet.
EMI: So, you're back in town? Are you staying long?
KOJI: I'm not sure. Maybe a while. I needed a break from Tokyo.
EMI: (carefully) From your writing?
Koji looks down at his coffee.
KOJI: From everything.
Emi senses the weight in those words. She softens a little.
EMI: I heard about one of your plays once. A friend mentioned they saw it in Tokyo… I'm sorry it didn't work out.
KOJI: (surprised she knew) It's okay. Part of why I… crashed, I guess.
Emi studies him for a moment, then decides to gently cut to the heart:
EMI: Koji, why did you come to see me?
Koji meets her eyes, guilt and earnestness visible.
KOJI: Because I owed you an apology. For disappearing the way I did. For everything.
Emi's face remains composed, but she grips her glass tighter. Her voice is calm but brittle around the edges.
EMI: That was fifteen years ago. We were young.
KOJI: It doesn't excuse it. I should have called, written… something. I just… I was a coward.
Emi's eyes drop to the table. She's quiet for a moment.
EMI: (softly) Do you know how long I waited? Hoping to hear from you?
Koji's throat tightens.
EMI: At first I thought, "He just needs time to get settled, he'll call." Then months passed, a year… I thought maybe something happened to you, or maybe you just forgot me. Eventually I had to stop waiting.
Koji's eyes glisten with remorse.
KOJI: Emi, I am so, so sorry. I never forgot you. I was selfish and stupid. I thought if I could make it big, become a successful playwright, then… then it would justify leaving. That I could come back to you with pride. But life… didn't go that way.
Emi looks up at him, emotions swirling: anger, hurt, compassion.
EMI: You could have at least told me. Even if you left… why cut me off completely?
Koji struggles for words, voice quavering.
KOJI: I was ashamed. At first, I was drunk on the excitement of Tokyo and theater. But when things got hard, I felt I couldn't face you or anyone back home empty-handed. So I just… disappeared into my own world. And the more time passed, the harder it was to reach out. I told myself you'd moved on, that you were better without me disturbing your life.
Emi's eyes brim with tears she refuses to let fall. She inhales deeply, steadying herself.
EMI: You have no idea what it was like, Koji. One day planning our future together… the next, you were gone. Like a ghost.
Koji bows his head, gaze fixed on his hands.
KOJI: I can't undo what I did. I wish I could.
He reaches into his pocket and slowly unfolds the note from the shrine, laying it on the table gently. Emi's eyes dart to it, and she freezes.
KOJI: Yesterday, I found this. At the old shrine.
Emi's hand moves to her mouth as she recognizes the paper, her own handwriting now confronting her. Her composed mask falters completely.
EMI: (whispers) I… I forgot I even…
She reaches out hesitantly and picks up the note, as if verifying it's real. The words stare back at her: "I wish Koji would come back to me." Emi's lips tremble.
EMI: I wrote this the day you left.
KOJI: (softly) You tied it to the camphor tree. It waited there all this time.
A tear finally escapes down Emi's cheek. She hastily wipes it.
EMI: How cruel… that you saw this.
KOJI: Emi, finding this… it felt like hearing your voice again after so long. It hurt to read, because I know I caused that pain. But I'm also grateful I found it. Otherwise I might never have had the courage to see you.
Emi closes her eyes, holding the note to her heart, torn open by old wounds made fresh.
EMI: (voice shaking) Why now, Koji? Why show up after all these years? Is it just guilt?
KOJI: (honest, pleading) Partly guilt. Partly… because I realized I never stopped—
He catches himself, unsure if he has the right to say the next words. Emi looks at him expectantly, breath hitched.
Koji changes course slightly.
KOJI: I never stopped regretting what I did to you. And when I came back home, I was at the lowest point in my life. I thought… (a beat, choosing to be vulnerable) I thought about ending everything.
Emi's eyes widen in alarm and pain.
KOJI: (continues) I felt like my life was meaningless. But then I found your words. And they gave me a purpose — to see you, to apologize, to maybe fix one thing in my life instead of running away.
Emi stares at him, the anger in her eyes softening into concern and sorrow.
EMI: (soft) Koji…
KOJI: I don't expect you to forgive me. I just didn't want to live with this weight without at least trying to make amends.
Emi takes a shaky breath and looks away, up at the darkening sky. Streetlights flicker on one by one.
EMI: (quietly) After you left, I was a mess for a long time. I barely ate, I couldn't sleep. My parents were so worried. Eventually I realized I had to let go or it would destroy me. That's when I went to the shrine. I poured everything into that wish and tied it to the tree… and walked away. I tried to forget you.
Koji nods, eyes down.
KOJI: I understand.
EMI: I moved here to Kyoto for university and stayed. I made a new life. And I was okay… or I thought I was, until right now.
She looks at him, vulnerability naked on her face.
EMI: Seeing you… it brings it all back. The good and the hurt.
Koji's voice is gentle, remorseful.
KOJI: If my being here only causes you pain…
He reaches for the note in her hand, as if to remove the burden, but she pulls it back, holding it protectively.
EMI: (quickly) No…
She realizes her instinct and softens her tone.
EMI: I mean… you came all this way. We should at least talk it through properly.
Koji's eyes search hers for cues. Emi carefully folds the note and sets it aside.
EMI: It's just a lot, Koji. I had convinced myself I'd moved on. You were a distant memory. And now you're here, and all those feelings… (she trails off)
Koji leans forward slightly.
KOJI: I know. It's overwhelming. I'm sorry.
Emi manages a faint sad smile.
EMI: You keep apologizing.
KOJI: Because I mean it. I'm sorry for everything — leaving you, not contacting you, not being here when… when you needed me.
He takes a steady breath.
KOJI: But I'm also glad I could see you again, even like this. You're alive, you're okay… I worried, you know. That maybe my silence could have… (he winces at the thought) hurt you beyond repair.
Emi looks into his eyes, voice softening.
EMI: I was hurt. But I survived.
They share a long, meaningful look. The anger has ebbed, leaving sorrow and affection long buried.
EMI: (quietly) Koji… I…
Suddenly, the library's bell chimes from next door indicating closing time. Emi looks toward the sound, realizing her break is over.
EMI: I… I have to go close up.
KOJI: Of course.
He stands as she stands.
KOJI: Thank you for talking with me.
Emi nods, slipping the folded note absentmindedly into her cardigan pocket.
They stand a bit awkwardly on the sidewalk by the café.
KOJI: (tentative) Could we… meet again? Maybe this evening? I don't want to leave things like this, if you're willing.
Emi hesitates, emotions conflicting on her face. Part of her clearly wants to retreat and process; another part seems to want to continue this conversation.
EMI: There's a small park by Kamogawa river… I usually walk there after work to unwind. (a beat) I could meet you there in an hour?
KOJI: (soft smile) I'd like that.
Emi nods.
EMI: It's just across from the library, down that street and… (realizes she's about to guide him in a city he may know)
KOJI: (assures gently) I'll find it. Kamogawa, right?
EMI: Right. Under the willow trees by the footbridge.
KOJI: I'll see you soon, then.
Emi offers a slight bow of her head and turns to go back into the library. Koji watches her walk away, heart hopeful and aching at once.
EXT. KAMOGAWA RIVERSIDE PARK – NIGHT
A quiet corner of a riverside park. The city lights glitter on the water. Fireflies blink intermittently among the grasses by the riverbank. Under a drooping willow tree, Koji stands waiting, illuminated by a nearby lantern. He fiddles with his hands, anxious.
After a moment, Emi appears, coming down the stone footbridge that arches over a narrow part of the river. She approaches slowly. She has changed out of her work clothes into a casual summer dress and light cardigan. Koji notices she's holding two small canned drinks.
EMI: (softly) I figured you might be thirsty. It's just tea.
She offers him one of the canned green teas. He accepts it with a grateful nod.
KOJI: Thank you.
They sit on a wooden bench beneath the willow. For a moment, they watch the gentle flow of the dark river. The sounds of crickets fill the night, mixed with distant laughter of some teenagers across the river and the faint city noise beyond.
EMI: It's peaceful here. I come to think sometimes.
KOJI: It's nice. Reminds me of our hometown river, but bigger.
Emi smiles faintly at the reference to home.
They both open their canned teas with a pop and sip, gathering thoughts.
KOJI: Emi… there's so much I want to ask you. But I also don't want to pry if it's too painful.
EMI: (shakes head) We might as well talk openly. It's just us here.
She gathers courage and looks at him.
EMI: After you left, I really did try to forget you. I threw myself into study, then work. I even… (she pauses, then continues) I even tried dating someone in university a few years later.
KOJI: (quietly) You don't have to tell me this if—
EMI: It's okay. (shrugging lightly) It lasted a year. He was kind, but I couldn't fully love him. I kept comparing every feeling to what I remembered with you. In the end, I broke it off. It wasn't fair to him.
Koji listens with a pained expression.
EMI: (adds, hesitant) I was engaged, briefly, about five years ago.
Koji's eyes widen slightly. Emi gives a sad smile.
EMI: We had been dating two years. He proposed, I said yes. He was a good man… but as the wedding drew near, I panicked. I realized I was trying to live someone else's life because I still hadn't resolved my past. I called it off before it went further.
KOJI: (whispers) I'm sorry…
EMI: Don't be. It hurt at the time, but it was the right decision. I needed to face my own heart first. I did eventually make peace with it — with you — or so I thought. I convinced myself that if I ever saw you again, I could be completely indifferent. Just old friends.
She lets out a small, self-mocking laugh and shakes her head.
EMI: I was wrong.
Koji lowers his gaze, guilt-ridden.
KOJI: It would have been easier for you if you had forgotten me completely. Maybe I should have stayed away.
Emi turns to him with a firm but gentle look.
EMI: Don't say that. (a beat) If nothing else, this meeting… it's giving me a chance to say things I never got to say.
She breathes deeply.
EMI: I hated you for a while, Koji. Truly hated you for abandoning me. Then I hated myself, thinking I wasn't enough to make you stay. I spiraled through those feelings for years.
Koji's eyes well up. He starts to speak, but Emi continues.
EMI: But over time, I realized your leaving was about you, not me. You had big dreams, and our town felt too small. I could understand that, even if it hurt.
KOJI: (soft) It was never about you not being enough. You were the best thing in my life back then.
Emi looks at him, vulnerable.
EMI: Then why?
Koji sighs, leaning forward, elbows on his knees as he stares at the ground.
KOJI: Because I was afraid. Afraid if I stayed, I'd resent you or the town if my dreams died. Afraid if I failed in Tokyo, I'd have nothing to offer you. I told myself leaving you behind would protect you from my potential failure. In truth, it was selfish rationalization.
He looks up at the night sky.
KOJI: And I did fail. My plays never truly succeeded. I worked part-time jobs to scrape by. I burned through years chasing something that kept slipping away. And with each setback, reaching out to you became harder. How could I tell you that I was miserable and alone? I felt I'd made my choice and had to live with it.
Emi gently places a hand on Koji's forearm, comforting. It's the first time she's touched him, and it surprises them both a little. Koji meets her eyes.
EMI: (softly) You should have told me. I might have understood… maybe even helped. We could have faced it together, somehow.
KOJI: (voice cracking) I wish I had. Instead I walled myself off and lost you completely.
He covers her hand with his own briefly, then realizes and pulls his hand back shyly. Emi doesn't seem to mind the touch, though; her eyes are tender.
They sit in silence, watching a pair of fireflies dance over the water.
EMI: So… when you said you almost ended everything…
Koji winces slightly at bringing this up, but he nods, feeling she has a right to know.
KOJI: A month ago. I was at rock bottom. My last play was cancelled halfway through its run due to poor sales. I was drowning in debt… and more than that, I felt utterly alone. I'd burned bridges, lost friends. One night it just… became too much. I decided maybe it was easier to… (he struggles, but forces it out) …to jump.
Emi inhales sharply, tears instantly pricking her eyes.
EMI: (whispering) Koji…
KOJI: I'm sorry. I don't mean to upset you. I just… want you to know where I was. I stood on my apartment balcony ready to do it. But, in that moment I thought of a few memories that actually felt warm – and the brightest one was you. Laughing, back in high school, in the auditorium after one of our shows. That memory made me hesitate. I didn't jump. Instead, I… well, I ended up coming home to my mother to recover.
Emi closes her eyes, a tear escaping.
KOJI: (softly) I'm alive partly because of that memory of you, Emi.
Emi wipes her cheek, her emotions overflowing.
EMI: I'm… I'm so glad you didn't go through with it. Koji, you're not alone. You never were. We all… we all would have cared, if you had just reached out.
Koji nods, choking up a bit.
KOJI: I know that now. I was blind to it then.
Emi sniffles and composes herself a bit.
EMI: Thank you for telling me. I'm sure it was hard to say.
They share a melancholic smile.
After a moment, Emi looks around at the quiet park and distant city lights.
EMI: Remember how you used to talk about taking me to see Kyoto someday? Back in high school, when we'd watch those travel shows on TV at your place?
Koji smiles wistfully.
KOJI: I remember. I wanted to show you all the temples and theaters…
He looks around.
KOJI: Ironically, you ended up moving here on your own.
EMI: Life is funny that way.
She finishes her tea and sets the empty can aside. Koji does the same.
EMI: So what now, Koji? You apologized… we've talked about the past. (she shrugs slightly) Are you expecting forgiveness? Or…?
Koji shakes his head earnestly.
KOJI: I didn't come to demand anything. Honestly, I didn't know what would happen. I hoped you'd hear me out, and you did. That's more than I deserve.
He pauses, looking at her sincerely.
KOJI: Of course I want your forgiveness. But more than that, I… I want to know you're happy. And if not, maybe I can help you be, even in a small way.
Emi tilts her head, studying him with gentle eyes.
EMI: You know, for years I imagined what I'd do if you ever came back. Sometimes I thought I'd slap you, or scream at you. Other times I thought I'd pretend I didn't care.
Koji braces, a bit wary.
Emi smiles tearfully.
EMI: But right now… I just feel relief. Like something heavy I carried is finally being set down.
Koji feels a small spark of hope at those words.
EMI: (softly) I forgive you, Koji.
Koji's breath catches. He hadn't realized how desperate he was to hear those words until now. His eyes fill with tears and he bows his head.
KOJI: Thank you… You don't know what that means to me.
Emi gently places a hand on his back in a comforting gesture.
EMI: It means a lot to me too. My heart feels… lighter.
They share a tender, quiet moment. The night around them seems a little brighter; a gentle breeze rustles the willow leaves.
Emi straightens up, a slight smile on her face.
EMI: When do you head back home?
KOJI: I was planning tomorrow, unless… should I stay longer?
He doesn't hide the hopeful note in his voice. Emi smiles, a hint of her old warmth returning.
EMI: If you can, maybe stay a bit? I'd like to… talk more. Catch up on the lost years properly, as friends.
Koji's lips curve into a genuine smile, possibly the first true one we've seen from him.
KOJI: I can stay as long as you'd like. I have nowhere else I need to be.
Emi nods, pleased.
EMI: Okay. Maybe tomorrow we can visit a place or two around Kyoto? As tourists.
KOJI: I'd like that. (teasing gently) You'll be my guide?
EMI: (a light laugh) I suppose I will.
They both stand from the bench. They seem lighter, the distance between them smaller now. As they walk back toward the street, side by side, their shoulders nearly brushing, Koji glances at Emi.
KOJI: Emi… thank you.
EMI: For what?
KOJI: Giving me a chance. And giving me hope.
Emi looks up at the stars thoughtfully.
EMI: We've both lived a long time without hope. Maybe it's time we find it again.
Koji follows her gaze upward. The stars above Kyoto sparkle between patches of clouds.
KOJI: (soft) Together?
Emi meets his eyes and smiles softly.
EMI: (gentle) Together.
They continue down the path.
CUT TO:
INT. BUDGET HOTEL LOBBY – LATE NIGHT
Koji collects a key from a modest hotel front desk. He bows to the clerk and heads to his room.
INT. BUDGET HOTEL ROOM – LATE NIGHT
Koji enters a tiny hotel room. He's alone again, but there's a calmness about him now. He sits on the edge of the bed and takes out his notebook.
Flipping past pages of old scribbles, he finds a blank page and begins to write:
"A Temple Without Wishes" – he writes this as a tentative title. Below it, he scribbles scene ideas, bits of dialogue, clearly inspired by his experiences.
He pauses and looks out the window at the city lights. He then turns to a fresh page and writes a letter addressed to Emi – words of gratitude and maybe things unsaid. The content is not fully visible to us, but his thoughtful, content expression shows it's heartfelt.
Koji closes the notebook, a small smile on his face.
KOJI: (whispering to himself) I'll make this right.
He lies back on the bed, and for the first time in a long while, he closes his eyes with a hopeful smile.
FADE OUT.
FADE IN:
Act III - Resolution
EXT. KYOTO – MONTAGE – NEXT MORNING THROUGH AFTERNOON
• EXT. FUSHIMI INARI SHRINE – MORNING: Koji and Emi walk under the endless path of vermilion torii gates at Fushimi Inari. Sunlight filters through the gaps, painting them in patterns of light and shadow. Emi points out something carved on a gate, sharing local lore. Koji listens, his eyes often drifting to her with quiet admiration. Their pace is unhurried, comfortable.
• EXT. PHILOSOPHER'S PATH – LATE MORNING: They stroll along a stone path by a canal lined with cherry trees (now green in summer). Emi buys two taiyaki (fish-shaped pastries) from a stall and hands one to Koji. They eat as they walk, chatting and even laughing softly at an old inside joke. Koji notices a stray cat, kneels to pet it; Emi kneels too, and their hands accidentally brush while petting the cat. They share a brief, shy smile.
• EXT. KAMOGAWA RIVERBANK – NOON: They sit on the grassy riverbank, shoes off, feet almost touching the water. Emi kicks at the water playfully, reminiscing about how as kids they'd catch minnows in the river back home. Koji lies back, looking at the clouds, saying he hasn't felt this relaxed in years. Emi lies back too, their shoulders now close. For a quiet moment, they simply enjoy the summer breeze and each other's presence.
END MONTAGE.
INT. KYOTO STATION – LATE AFTERNOON
The day is ending. Koji and Emi stand near the train departure board. Koji has his backpack slung on one shoulder. A train back to their home region is scheduled shortly.
They face each other. This is farewell for now, though the atmosphere between them has completely changed from the previous day — warm and affectionate.
EMI: Are you sure you have to go today?
KOJI: (smiles gently) I don't have to, but… I think I should. There's something I need to do back home.
Emi nods in understanding. She knows what he means.
EMI: The shrine?
KOJI: (affirmative) And maybe… maybe start writing again.
He holds up his notebook, which peeks out of his bag. Emi's eyes light up.
EMI: I'm glad. I'd love to read your new story someday.
Koji steps closer, lowering his voice in a soft earnest tone.
KOJI: I also want to talk to your parents, if that's okay. I owe them an apology too, for how I left.
Emi smiles, touched.
EMI: You really have changed. (playfully) Facing all the scary things head-on now?
KOJI: Trying to. I realized running away doesn't solve anything.
An announcement chimes. Koji's train will depart in a few minutes.
Emi fiddles with the strap of her purse, emotion in her eyes.
EMI: I'll come visit the town soon. It's been too long. Maybe for the Obon festival next month… if you'll be around?
KOJI: I'll be there. And I'd love to show you around — things that have changed, things that stayed the same.
He chuckles softly.
KOJI: Who knows, maybe Daisuke will throw a party if you come. You were kind of a legend after you left — the one that got away to the big city.
Emi laughs quietly.
EMI: Hardly a legend. But I'd like to see everyone.
A pause. This moment feels like a new beginning, not an ending, but it's still hard to part.
Koji musters a bit of courage and gently takes Emi's hand in his.
KOJI: (sincere, hopeful) Thank you for yesterday. And today. I… I don't think I've been this happy in years.
Emi blushes slightly but doesn't pull away.
EMI: Me neither.
They stand there, holding hands amid the station crowd flowing around them, in their own little world.
KOJI: I'll call you when I get home, okay?
EMI: (nods) Please do.
The final boarding call for Koji's train echoes.
Reluctantly, Koji releases her hand. They share a meaningful look.
EMI: Take care, Koji.
KOJI: You too, Emi.
On impulse, Emi steps forward and gives Koji a brief, gentle hug. Koji closes his eyes, savoring it as he wraps his arms around her for the few seconds it lasts. When they part, both their eyes are shiny with unshed tears, but they smile.
Koji turns and jogs to the train. Emi watches as he steps on and finds a seat by the window.
The train doors close. As the train begins to glide away, Koji and Emi maintain eye contact through the glass. He lifts a hand; she waves back, a hopeful smile on her face.
Emi stands on the platform until the train is out of sight, her heart full.
EXT. HIEI SHRINE – EVENING
Koji walks up the stone path to the shrine, the sky now painted with the deep orange of twilight. In his hand he carries a small bag. The shrine looks as forlorn as before, but Koji's presence is purposeful.
He sets the bag down on the wooden veranda of the shrine. From it, he pulls out cleaning tools: a broom, a cloth, wood oil. He begins to sweep the leaves and debris slowly, thoughtfully.
Cut to later: The sun has set, and Koji lights a few paper lanterns he's hung around the area, illuminating the shrine with a gentle glow. He wipes down the racks where the wishes hang, and carefully gathers a few that fell to the ground, setting them aside respectfully.
Koji then kneels before the shrine's altar. He claps his hands twice and bows his head, a traditional prayer gesture. In the silence, the only sound is the summer night insects and the distant creek of wood.
He rises and moves to the camphor tree. He runs a hand along its rough bark as if greeting an old friend.
From his pocket, he takes out two ema plaques he purchased earlier. He has already written on them.
He hangs the first plaque on a hook under the eaves of the shrine. We glimpse it: "I wish to forgive myself and use my life for good."
He then walks to the camphor tree with the second plaque. On it: "I wish to give Emi all the happiness she deserves." Koji smiles softly as he ties this plaque onto one of the tree's lower branches. It sways gently among the old faded papers, a fresh wish among the abandoned ones.
Koji steps back and looks at the tree. There's a renewed tenderness in his gaze. He then reaches into his bag and produces an old notebook – the same notebook. He opens to a page with the script he's begun writing, titled "A Temple Without Wishes."
Standing under a lantern's glow, Koji begins to read aloud softly from his notebook. His voice is calm, confident:
KOJI: "In a quiet town stood a shrine of lost causes, its trees bearing the hopes people left behind. A man returns home, carrying nothing but regrets…"
As Koji narrates in voiceover, a visual montage unfolds:
• Emi in Kyoto, at her apartment that evening. She sits at her desk, writing a letter. We see she's writing to Koji, smiling softly as her pen moves.
• Koji continues cleaning the shrine – polishing the wooden prayer box, fixing a small broken ema by tying it back together.
• Emi at her childhood home a week later, embracing her surprised, happy parents, then later finding a high school photo of her and Koji, smiling reminiscently.
• Koji meeting Emi's parents on a sunny afternoon, bowing deeply in apology as they stand at their doorway. Emi's mother pats his shoulder kindly, indicating acceptance.
• Emi on a train to the hometown, looking out the window at fields passing by, a hopeful expression on her face.
• Koji at his desk at home, furiously and joyfully writing the final scenes of his new play, crumpled drafts scattered about, the shrine note from Emi now framed beside him as inspiration.
• The camphor tree at the shrine, now cleaned up and tended. Koji and a few townspeople hoist new prayer boards and repaint the torii gate, restoring the shrine's former charm.
Koji's voice continues over these images:
KOJI (V.O.): "…He discovered that even the most fragile wish, left forgotten on a tree, held the power to bring two souls together once more. In healing the shrine, he healed his heart, and in seeking forgiveness, he found love waiting silently to be reborn."
EXT. HIEI SHRINE – NIGHT
Koji finishes reading his lines to the empty shrine. He closes the notebook, eyes shining with contentment. He bows once more to the altar in gratitude.
At that moment, a soft voice comes from behind him:
EMI (O.S.): You always did have a way with words.
Koji turns, astonished. Standing at the entrance of the shrine path is Emi, illuminated by the lantern light, carrying a small overnight bag. She steps forward into the shrine grounds, eyes on Koji.
Koji is stunned but overjoyed.
KOJI: Emi…? You're here!
Emi smiles, a little sheepishly.
EMI: I hope it's okay. I took an earlier train. I… didn't want to wait until next month.
Koji laughs in relief, meeting her halfway. They stand under the camphor tree together, the new plaque he hung just above them.
KOJI: Of course it's okay. It's more than okay, it's— (he searches for the right word) —wonderful.
Emi looks around at the spruced-up shrine, the glowing lanterns, the neat grounds.
EMI: You did all this?
KOJI: (nods) It felt like the right thing to do. This place… it kind of saved me, because of you.
Emi's eyes soften. She notices the plaque he hung on the tree. She gently touches it, reading the wish Koji wrote for her happiness. Emotion fills her face.
EMI: Koji…
He steps closer, heart on his sleeve.
KOJI: I meant every word on that plaque. You deserve all the happiness in the world. I want to give it to you, if you'll let me.
Emi turns to face him fully. In the quiet night, they stand close, the history between them heavy but now lifted by understanding.
EMI: You've already made me happier than I've been in a long time. Just by being here.
Koji reaches out and takes her hand in his, gently this time without hesitation. Emi intertwines her fingers with his.
KOJI: (softly) I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere again.
Emi's eyes shine with tears of joy. She nods.
They share a quiet laugh of relief and contentment, and then, slowly, Koji pulls Emi into a warm embrace beneath the camphor tree. This time, it's not a brief goodbye hug, but an embrace of reunion and promise. Emi rests her head against Koji's shoulder, closing her eyes.
Fireflies flit around the shrine, the lantern light flickers, and the night is filled with the soft sounds of summer.
Koji gently tilts Emi's chin up. They look into each other's eyes, searching and finding everything they've been missing. With a tender hesitation, Koji leans down and Emi rises on her toes – their lips meet in a soft, heartfelt kiss amid the tranquil shrine.
The camera drifts away from the couple, focusing on the camphor tree above them. The old papers of abandoned wishes rustle quietly, and one by one, a few detach and drift away on a breeze – as if those old regrets are finally being released. In their place, the new plaque Koji hung sways gently, catching the moonlight.
Emi and Koji stand together under the tree, arms around each other, gazing up at the sky now. The stars are bright, and a single shooting star streaks across the heavens.
Emi laughs in surprise, pointing.
EMI: Oh! A shooting star…
KOJI: (smiling) Quick, make a wish.
Emi nestles closer to Koji, still looking at the sky.
EMI: I don't need to. I think it already came true.
Koji turns to look at her. Seeing her face, peaceful and smiling, he knows exactly what she means.
He kisses her forehead gently. They remain in each other's arms, looking up as the tail of the shooting star fades.
In the distance, the soft ringing of a wind chime can be heard from the shrine, as if in gentle agreement.
FADE OUT.
THE END