Going back?
Kohaku's boots crunched against the dry leaves that covered the forest trail. It was a familiar path, one she had walked countless times in her childhood. The sound of birds chirping and the rustle of the wind through the trees brought a sense of peace, but today something felt different. Her thoughts were tangled, as though a memory she couldn’t quite reach was waiting just on the edge of her mind.
Yumi skipped beside her, chatting animatedly about the latest gossip from the bakery, but Kohaku’s attention drifted. The distant echoes of Yumi’s words seemed to fade as she looked ahead, her gaze unfocused. The forest, so familiar, began to feel strange. The trees, the smell of the earth, even the breeze—it all tugged at something in the back of her mind.
“What’s wrong?”
Yumi’s voice pulled her back to reality. She glanced at her friend, who was watching her with a raised eyebrow.
“I— I don’t know,”
Kohaku murmured, frowning as she took another step.
“Something feels familiar about this place. I’m not sure why.”
Yumi gave her a teasing grin,
“Do you not remember? This is the trail we used to walk all the time when we were kids.”
“No,”
Kohaku replied quickly, shaking her head,
“It's not that. It’s… there’s something more.”
She paused as a strange sensation washed over her—a flicker of memory that was too quick to capture. A distant sound… Was that… a voice?
She stopped walking, eyes scanning the woods around them. It was as if she could almost hear someone—no, feel someone—there. The sense of being followed, of having been here before, gripped her tightly. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, willing herself to push through the fog that clouded her thoughts.
“Hey,”
Yumi said, sounding concerned now.
“What’s going on with you?”
“I’m fine.”
Kohaku took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling.
"let's go back.. I'm not feeling well”
They headed back to the bakery and as soon as they were in, Yumi immediately told Kohaku to sit down.
“sit kohaku, I'll get you some water” Yumi said, as she rushed to the kitchen
A minute later Yumi came back with a glass of water on her hands, Kohaku took the glass of water from Yumi. her hands slightly trembling. She wasn’t sure why, but the sense of unease from the forest still lingered. It clung to her, like a shadow she couldn’t shake off. The bustling warmth of the bakery, usually so comforting, felt distant—like a place behind glass, where she could see but not quite reach.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Yumi asked, her voice softer now. She pulled up a chair beside Kohaku, setting the glass down on the small wooden table.
“You’ve been weird all day.”
Kohaku forced a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just... tired, I guess.”
As Kohaku and Yumi sat at the bakery, the door swung open, and Ruri stepped in, a soft chime announcing her arrival. She wore a gentle smile, her calm presence immediately grounding the room.
“Ruri!”
Yumi greeted, her voice filled with warmth.
“You’re just in time. Kohaku’s not feeling too great.”
Ruri’s expression shifted to concern as she moved toward her sister.
“Kohaku, are you okay?”
She reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from Kohaku’s face.
"I'm fine Runi, it's just that... it's just that I'm tired, that's all"
she said not looking at her older sister.
“look Kohaku I know you like to keep things to yourself…but this can't move on”
Ruri said, holding both of the kohaku's hands looking at her with concern.
“also…mother called”
The atmosphere in the room shifted. Kohaku's expression hardened, and Ruri’s usually gentle demeanor became more serious.
“I’m not going back,”
Kohaku said firmly, her voice steady but cold.
“There’s nothing for me in Tokyo.”
Ruri sighed, still holding Kohaku’s hands tightly.
“I know you don’t want to, but... she said it’s been a year since you left”
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Ruri's words sinking into Kohaku’s chest. The thought of returning to Tokyo, to face the place where it all went wrong, made her stomach turn. The past felt like a prison she couldn't escape from, a constant reminder of everything she had lost.
“I’m not going back,”
Kohaku repeated, her voice unwavering.
“I don’t need to face it. There’s nothing there for me.”
Ruri squeezed her hands gently but didn’t let go.
“Kohaku, I know it’s hard, but... you can’t keep running forever. Mother... she just wants to see you. She misses you.”
Kohaku’s eyes flickered with frustration, but there was something else—something deeper—lurking beneath her stubbornness. She pulled her hands away from Ruri’s grip, standing up abruptly.
“I don’t need anyone’s pity, Ruri. Especially not hers.”
Her tone was sharp, defensive, like a wall going up between them.
“It’s my fault, alright? I messed up. I can’t face it.”
Yumi watched the exchange quietly, sensing the tension in the room. She was still learning the depths of Kohaku’s past, and it seemed like there was much more to the story than just the injuries she had mentioned.
Ruri’s gaze softened, and she stood up slowly, walking over to Kohaku.
“Kohaku… I’m not asking you to go back and relive everything. But maybe you can stop pretending like it doesn’t hurt. You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”
For a moment, Kohaku seemed to waver, her hardened expression faltering. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by the sudden chime of the bakery door.
“Ah, Senku and Chrome!”
Yumi greeted with a grin, a little too eagerly, clearly relieved for the distraction.
“What brings you two here?”
Kohaku turned her head toward the door. There, standing in the threshold of the bakery, was Senku and Chrome, with their usual energy. But as soon as Senku’s eyes landed on Kohaku, he froze. sensing the intense atmosphere in the bakery.
“What’s going on?”
Chrome asked casually, but his eyes lingered on Kohaku, also sensing something was off. He had never seen her look so distant, so… closed off.
Yumi, eager to change the subject, quickly answered,
“Nothing! Just a little sisterly talk, you know how it goes. Anyway, you guys want some coffee?”
But without warning,Kohaku stood up from her seat and turned on her heel, making a sharp exit. The door swung open and shut behind her as she disappeared into the cool evening air.
"Kohaku!"
Ruri called after her, but her voice was swallowed by the distance.
The bakery door slammed behind Kohaku, the sound echoing in the quiet evening air. Senku and Chrome exchanged a look, confusion lingering on their faces as they watched her leave.
“Is she okay?”
Chrome asked, his voice softer than usual, his eyes still following the path Kohaku had taken.
Yumi let out a nervous laugh, trying to cover up the tension.
“She’s fine, just... being Kohaku. You know how she is.”
But Senku, ever observant, noticed the way Ruri's shoulders slumped as she sat back down. Her gaze was distant, following her sister’s retreating figure. Ruri let out a heavy sigh, resting her head in her hands for a moment before speaking.
“She’s been like this for a while now. I just... I don’t know how to help her.”
Senku tilted his head, his usual sharpness softened by a rare moment of concern.
“What happened?”
Ruri hesitated, clearly unsure of how much to share, but then she spoke, her voice quiet but steady.
“A few years ago, Kohaku was training for a major karate tournament. She was on track to compete in the Olympics... until she injured herself. It wasn’t just the physical damage—it was everything. She was at the top, and one mistake... everything fell apart.”
Chrome’s face softened with understanding, the usual carefree expression replaced by one of empathy.
“So... she hasn’t been the same since?”
“No,”
Ruri whispered, her eyes glazing over with a mixture of sadness and frustration.
“She couldn’t handle the shame. The whole city saw it, the fall from grace. And now... she won’t even think about going back to Tokyo. She refuses to face it, to confront what happened.”
The room fell silent…but outside, the sky was painted with the colors of twilight, the air crisp and cool. Kohaku walked slowly, her footsteps soft against the pavement. She didn’t know where she was going, but she couldn’t stay there, not when the conversation with Ruri was still echoing in her mind.
The memory of her fall, of everything that had shattered inside her, came rushing back. The humiliation, the pain. It was a weight she couldn’t shake off, no matter how hard she tried. And now, even as she walked alone in the night, she could feel the shadows of her past creeping up behind her.
But one thing was certain: she wasn’t ready to face it—not yet. Maybe, someday. But tonight, she needed the quiet, the distance. The space to breathe without the weight of everyone’s expectations on her shoulders.
As she walked, she could feel the pull of something—the memory of a day long past, of a cave she hadn’t visited in years. The feeling lingered, and despite herself, she paused.
Maybe it was time to find out what that memory meant. Maybe it was time to stop running.
For now, though, she kept walking, the night swallowing her whole.
END OF CHAPTER