Grey Spring: Ruins of Tokyo Manji and the Love We Left Behind - The Four at Tama Cemetery

Mitsuya's message arrived in the middle of breakfast. Takemichi was still sitting on the floor, peeling back the lid of the container Hina had left the day before. Inside was stir-fried chicken and onions, rice divided into a smaller container. He hadn't eaten anything since last night. The bruise on his cheek from Waltz's punch was still a deep purple-blue, and when he tried to smile, it pulled with a sharp ache. Morning light filtered thin and pale through the shoji paper of Room 201 at Corpo Minase. When he opened his phone, there was a single line from Mitsuya. ——Today is Draken's death anniversary. Tama Cemetery, two o'clock. Let's go say a proper goodbye—you, me, and Ema. Takemichi's chopsticks stilled. Draken's death anniversary. The words fell into his mind and sank there, refusing to surface. He'd never consciously checked the calendar. But it was true. Two years had passed since that night. Takemichi set down his chopsticks. He couldn't decide immediately whether to go. Going to Draken's grave. He didn't fully understand what that would mean. Was he going to see his face? To apologize? Or to confirm something? Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Before the door could be knocked on without hesitation, Takemichi stood. When he opened it, Hina was standing there. Hinata Reina was the resident of Room 202, Takemichi's neighbor. Yesterday she'd run barefoot through the rain to the park in her indoor slippers. Those slippers were now lined up neatly at the edge of the hallway. Today she wore a thin gray cardigan, her hair tied back in a single knot. Her bangs were slightly disheveled. "Good morning," said. Takemichi nodded silently. Hina's eyes found the bruise on his cheek, then immediately looked away. Whether she was being considerate or had simply grown used to it, he couldn't tell. "Mitsuya contacted me. Tama Cemetery," said. Hina fell quiet for a moment. "...Draken's grave," said softly. "Yeah," replied. He'd been about to refuse. He thought he should go alone. Or rather, he couldn't even imagine the sensation of going with someone else. Standing before Draken was his alone to do. The weight he'd been carrying for two years wasn't something to show another person. "Can I come with you?" asked. He'd been about to refuse, but then he looked into her eyes. There was no expectation there. No demand either. Just a quiet certainty—"I don't want you to go alone"—straight and unadorned. There was no reasoning behind it. No carefully constructed words. Hina was worried about him, and after yesterday she didn't want to leave him by himself, and both of those feelings were real, neither one a pretense. "I never properly greeted Draken," said. That wasn't a lie, Takemichi thought. But it wasn't the whole truth either. Hina was concerned about him, and she didn't want him alone today, and both feelings were genuine, neither one masking the other. Takemichi nodded. Words wouldn't come. Hina exhaled quietly. That was all. 　　　＊ Tama Cemetery was vast. From Sasazuka on the Keio Line, through Shinjuku, transferring to the Seibu Tamagawa Line, getting off at Tama Station. The two of them barely spoke on the train. Takemichi watched the world pass outside the window. Houses along the line flowed past. Laundry hung drying. Bicycles lined up in rows. An ordinary afternoon. At the cemetery entrance, they checked the directory at the management office. The Ryuguji family grave was in Section Seven. Zelkova trees stood scattered about, and the sky opened wide. The air smelled of autumn—fallen leaves and soil and something faintly dry. Gravel crunched beneath their feet with each step. When Takemichi saw the Ryuguji family grave, he stopped. Someone was already there. A figure knelt before the grave. White chrysanthemums had been placed as an offering. Beside them, a single can of coffee. Segawa Ema was crying with only her shoulders, the small trembling of someone who couldn't make a sound, whose entire body wept in silence. Golden hair fell across her shoulders. She gripped the gravestone of Draken—Ryuguji Ken—between both hands as if to hold it together. Takemichi approached. The gravel sounded beneath his feet. Three steps, four steps. Ema sensed his presence and turned around. The moment she saw Takemichi's face, her expression changed. Her crying face transformed into something else. Not surprise, not anger, not sadness—something deeper, more fundamental, laid bare and raw. Ema stood. Unsteady, she moved to stand before Takemichi. Both hands gripped his arms. "...Why," whispered, her voice trembling. "Why...is Draken dead and you alive?" She wasn't shouting. It wasn't a curse. There was no hatred in her words. Just a question. A pure question seeking to understand. The quality of her voice made clear she wasn't asking the world—she was asking Takemichi, here and now, and she didn't believe there was an answer. She was simply asking because she had nowhere else to ask it. That was what made it heavy. Words asked without the possibility of an answer, without room for excuse or explanation, cut deeper. Takemichi's knees folded onto the gravel. Not from weakness. He simply couldn't stand. Five episodes of accumulation—losing his job, the stakeout before the apartment, being beaten in the park, crying while holding Hina's hand in the rain—all of it struck him at once, and his body folded vertically. His knees touched the gravel. The gravestone was before him. Draken's name was carved there. Hina, though pressed by Ema's intensity, didn't retreat. She stood behind Takemichi. Her movement was unhesitating. She placed one hand on his shoulder. Then she met Ema's eyes directly. Ema stopped. "...You are," "I live next to Takemichi," said. She spoke that before her name. The name could come later. She said it with the certainty that this answer contained everything necessary in this moment. Ema looked at Hina. Two seconds. Three seconds. She looked at Hina's hand on Takemichi's shoulder. Between the three of them, there was only the silence of the cemetery. A zelkova swayed in the wind, leaves rustling. A bird called in the distance. 　　　＊ How long had passed before the sound of footsteps on gravel came? Takemichi remained on his knees, face down. Ema stood with her hand still gripping his arm. Hina remained standing behind Takemichi, unmoving. The air between the three had solidified into a single mass. The gravel sound stopped. Mitsuya Takashi took in the scene before him and came to a halt. A thin navy jacket, black pants. A man with a hairdresser's hands, having rushed here straight from work, stood on the cemetery path. Tall. Slender. His face was calm, but his eyes were different today. The words that had fallen into him the night before outside the izakaya Tobiuo—"I don't want to give up"—still burned in the depths of those eyes. Takemichi on his knees. Hina standing behind him. Ema gripping his arm. Mitsuya read the configuration of the three in a single second. Mitsuya moved. Not from jealousy or sympathy, but as an instinct to lift Takemichi to his feet. He stood before Ema. "Ema," said. Just one word. But the temperature in his voice stopped her. It was the voice of a former comrade. The voice of someone they'd survived the Kanto Incident with, from those days. Slowly, Ema released her hand from Takemichi's arm. Mitsuya reached to grab Takemichi's arm and pull him up. In that instant, Hina was already supporting his elbow from below. Mitsuya's hand and Hina's hand touched on Takemichi's arm. Just for a moment. Mitsuya's movement stopped. The sensation transmitted through his fingertips confirmed something in him before thought could catch up. His body had already provided the answer before analysis could begin. He already recognized this woman—Hinata Reina—as a romantic rival. His entire being knew it. His expression didn't change. The professional hairdresser's mask held there. But in his pocket, his right hand slowly formed a fist. Mitsuya and Hina's gazes met directly for the first time. Not wariness. Not hostility. Just a gaze confirming what each other was. Before even a second had passed, both looked away. But in that one second, something had been born between them. Four people stood in the same place for the first time. 　　　＊ Dusk was approaching. The shadows of the zelkovas grew long. The cemetery sky began to stain orange. Bird calls grew distant. No one spoke. Ema stood slightly apart, eyes downcast. Mitsuya stood behind, looking at the edge of the sky. Hina crouched beside Takemichi. Four shadows fell on the gravel. Only Takemichi remained on his knees. He was looking at the gravestone. The cold stone carved with Ryuguji Ken's name. For two years, he'd never come here. Couldn't come. He didn't know what to say if he did. Apologize? Cry? Or just stand there? He understood none of it. But now he was here. All four of them were here. That alone was the present reality. Takemichi opened his mouth. "Draken," His voice came out. Clearer than he'd expected. "...I'm still here," That was all. No apology. No explanation. He swallowed everything—why he was alive, why he couldn't protect Draken—and only those six words emerged. But those six words—"I'm still here"—were the first time in two years that Takemichi had spoken his own survival as an affirmative fact. Not as an excuse for living, not as an apology, but simply as fact. Ema began to cry quietly. Not with sound, but with her whole body trembling now, not just her shoulders. The white chrysanthemums caught the fading light and turned orange. Mitsuya's eyes narrowed. He looked up at the sky. His throat moved. He said nothing. Hina's hand touched Takemichi's on the gravel. Just the fingertips. Gently. Not pressing, just existing there. The same sensation as yesterday on the wet gravel of the park, when Hina had held his hand, was there again today on the dry gravel. Takemichi didn't pull away. Didn't refuse. He gripped her hand back. He squeezed the slender fingers with force. He felt Hina's breath catch. Still she didn't let go. In the cemetery's twilight, four people wept. It wasn't only Takemichi crying aloud. 　　　＊ At the cemetery exit, the four of them naturally came to a stop. The management office clock had passed five. The sky was still bright, but the air had grown cold. The back of Takemichi's hand bore marks from the gravel. Hina still stood beside Takemichi. Ema looked at Takemichi. Then, as if becoming aware of Hina, she looked at Takemichi once more. "...Can I come again? With you all," Before Takemichi could answer, Hina replied. "Of course," There was no hesitation. Not a second's pause. Ema looked at Hina. For the first time, she smiled. It was a complicated smile. It held pain. But it was real. Mitsuya said "My train goes a different direction" and walked ahead toward the ticket gates. His tone was natural. Unnaturally natural. Takemichi watched his back. Before the ticket gates, Mitsuya turned around. He seemed about to say something, then stopped. His gaze rested on Takemichi for just a moment. Then Mitsuya nodded and passed through the gates. They parted with Ema briefly too. Her direction was Fuchu, opposite from Mitsuya's. Ema looked back toward the cemetery one more time before walking away. Takemichi and Hina boarded the train just after five-thirty. The car was beginning to fill. They stood side by side, holding the overhead straps. There was no conversation. But it wasn't heavy. Takemichi realized for the first time that a non-heavy silence could exist. Just the comfort of standing beside each other, mixed with exhaustion and relief, all of it blended together as the two of them swayed with the train. Takemichi didn't put into words how Hina had never left his side at the cemetery. He didn't need to. He was receiving it. Night was coming through the window. 　　　＊ That same night,

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Episode 6

Name: Grey Spring: Ruins of Tokyo Manji and the Love We Left Behind
Author: Novelia

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