The rain started as a drizzle, just enough to make the city lights bleed across the pavement. It matched the weight in Yuji's chest — that quiet, familiar ache he'd stopped trying to name decades ago. He pulled his hood lower, letting the fabric shadow his eyes. The crowd moved around him, lost in its own rush, and he let them pass. He'd grown good at being invisible.
A sudden burst of laughter cut through the noise. Young. Carefree. Yuji's head turned on its own, a reflex he couldn't kill. Four teenagers huddled outside a convenience store, shoving each other, phones glowing in their hands. For half a second, he could see himself there — the boy with the bright smile, the one who believed he could save everyone.
He looked away.
His boots scraped against the wet sidewalk as he kept moving. Somewhere behind him, a street vendor called out. A car honked. The city breathed around him like nothing had ever been lost.
Then he heard it — a voice, low and steady, cutting through the static of the rain.
Yuji.
He froze mid-step. That voice. It couldn't be. It sounded just like Choso. The same quiet gravity. The same impossible calm.
His breath hitched. He turned his head slowly, scanning the crowd, his heart thudding against his ribs like it still remembered how to hope.
But there was no one. Just strangers with umbrellas and hurried steps. Just the rain, tapping against awnings and car roofs.
His jaw tightened. Of course it wasn't him. It was never him. Sixty-eight years, and the ghosts still liked to whisper.
He forced his hands deeper into his pockets, fingers curling into fists. The cold felt solid. Steadying.
He started walking again.
But this time, he didn't keep his head down. His eyes swept the street, searching for something he knew he wouldn't find. The rain picked up, soaking through his hood, tracing cold trails down his neck.
A figure stood at the next crosswalk, motionless under a flickering streetlamp. Tall. Dark coat. Face lost in shadow. They weren't moving. Just waiting — as if they'd been watching him the whole time.