Traffic.
It was the first time Takamatsu Tomori had ever truly hated a traffic jam.
This stretch of road never backed up at this hour — and yet tonight it was gridlocked beyond all reason, enough to make her chest seize with dread.
She sat in the back seat of the taxi, calling Chiose over and over. No one picked up.
"What's the matter — are you calling a friend?"
The driver was a strikingly beautiful woman, though oddly expressionless, her voice as flat and cool as a machine.
"Yeah. But she might be drunk or asleep — she's not picking up at all."
"Why not send her a message? It's late, and heading somewhere that far on your own isn't exactly safe."
Tomori caught the driver's fine-featured face in the rearview mirror, but she had no attention to spare for it.
Her head was completely full of Yoshiiro Chiose.
"I can't just message her — I made plans with her, there's something important I have to say in person. If I don't show up…"
"Attention: a serious traffic accident has occurred on the road ahead. The route has been closed."
The radio cut in at the worst possible moment, and Tomori went silent.
"So — still want to go? There aren't many routes to that dock in Akabane as it is. With this closure, you might not make it by tomorrow morning."
"Then — then…"
Tomori's mind shifted into overdrive, racing through her options.
She had already stood Chiose up for so long. Chiose had said after work — and here Tomori had spent the entire time waffling, only just now working up the nerve to go.
No matter what — she had to see Yoshiiro Chiose.
Whether she said yes or no, it didn't matter — as long as she could see her face, she knew she'd be able to make her decision.
"Take me to Tokyo International Airport. Can you get there?"
If she waited there until seven in the morning, Chiose would come. And then they could — leave the country together.
"Of course."
The driver glanced at her — predictably — and began recalculating the route.
[When Chiose sees me there tomorrow morning… she'll be so surprised!]
Tomori kept sending messages to Yoshiiro Chiose, one after another, even as the bold [Unread] notifications piled up and gnawed at her.
But that unease felt so small — so trivial — set against the bright shape of a new life stretching out ahead.
"I want to run away with Chiose."
Even after everything society had put her through, even now — she still harbored wishes that made no practical sense. Takamatsu Tomori had already started looking up tips for everyday life in America on her phone.
That was how things stood.
...
Tomori arrived at the airport early.
There wasn't quite enough time to check into a nearby hotel for rest, and besides, she had no appetite. So she simply sat down on one of the chairs in front of the check-in counters and stared into space.
Maybe it was the early hour, or maybe it wasn't peak tourist season — either way, the terminal was nearly empty, as cavernous and still as the back kitchen of Death itself.
Between the alcohol and the lack of sleep, Tomori's head felt like a broken electric fan spinning inside her skull.
She had no desire to browse the airport bookshop, and no energy to drag herself to the 24-hour convenience store for food. All she could do was take tiny sips from her last carton of Kisatsushu.
She was on her second sip when the announcement overhead caught her attention.
"Repeating: in the early hours of this morning, near a dock in the northern Akabane district of Tokyo, an incident occurred in which an unemployed woman attacked multiple victims indiscriminately with what appeared to be a large bladed weapon."
"We have received word that police have apprehended the female suspect at the scene."
"Casualties from this incident remain unclear at this time. Police are currently…"
"..."
There were a few more words after that, but Tomori couldn't hear them.
The announcement kept going. The terminal remained sparsely populated. The drink carton slipped from her fingers and hit the floor, the liquid leaping out — just like the tears that sprang to the corners of her eyes.
"That place…"
Tomori dialed Chiose's number. Again and again and again — countless times. No answer.
She stood frozen for a moment. Then she bolted outside as if her life depended on it.
She stepped right through the spilled Kisatsushu. Nobody noticed.
"I'm reading too much into this."
...
"Breaking news: the Akabane dock attacker has been…"
"Twelve dead, three critically injured…"
"Evidence of repeated strikes on the bodies after death — police investigation has found…"
"The suspect claims her husband had been having a long-term affair…"
The story was over.
A memorial hall — a place Tomori would never in a million years have imagined visiting before she turned thirty.
Chiose's memorial was set up at Tomori's home. Tomori had retrieved the key to Chiose's apartment from the police — the place was wall-to-wall liquor bottles; there was no way to clear enough space. So Tomori had set up the altar for her at her own.
She sat slumped against the wall in the corner, eyes vacant — like a fish washed up on shore, flopping uselessly against dry land.
"..."
Chiose was dead.
Dead on the very day they had promised to meet.
Just like that — gone.
The police had pulled Chiose's body from the water. Multiple slash wounds. She had bled out in the sea.
Just like that, she was gone.
Yoshiiro Chiose — gone, just like that?
"It can't be. It can't be like this…"
The murmur came from a place of disbelief so deep it had nowhere to go. Tomori couldn't bring herself to raise her eyes to Chiose's memorial portrait.
It was a crop from the photo they'd taken together on Chiose's birthday.
The Chiose in the picture looked so happy. How could someone that happy just — die?
"If only I hadn't drunk so much that night… no, if that day I had already made up my mind — whether I refused her or said yes — it wouldn't have mattered. As long as I'd given her a clear answer sooner…"
As long as she'd had the resolve even a little earlier, she wouldn't have drunk so much. Chiose wouldn't have been left waiting so late into the night.
If only…
What if…
If only…
What if…
What was the point of thinking all this now.
"Chiose is dead."
Only when those words left Tomori's lips — quiet and hollow — did something finally settle in her chest. The fact that Yoshiiro Chiose was truly gone.
If she had given her answer sooner, all of this could have been avoided. Absolutely.
Her own cowardice had killed Yoshiiro Chiose.
All this time, Chiose had been teaching her — be brave. Be a proper adult. Learn to lead others. Hold on to better hopes for your life.
And what had she done?
That night she never showed up — what on earth had she been doing?
[Have a drink.]
What—?!
[I said, go have a drink. Right now.]
Tomori wandered through the streets in a daze, vaguely wanting to find something to fill her empty stomach. But her feet carried her on their own, all the way to Ring II — the bar where she and Chiose had shared their very first drink.
"..."
[Come on, go in. Have one more drink — just one more, and you'll forget the pain.]
Chiose's voice murmured on in her ear, soft and insistent — then faded, quickly, like smoke.
"If I drink… will I be able to hear Chiose's voice a little longer?"
____
________________________________________
🌸 Help Love Bloom!
Our girls need a little push... and you can help!
💖 Gift for Everyone: Once we hit 50 Powerstones, I'll release +1 bonus chapter to warm your hearts.
🚀 Community Reward: If we reach 20 supporting members, we'll have a +5 chapter marathon across all stories! The romance won't stop.
👻 Come to our secret corner: Search for GirlsLove on (P). You know that's where the magic happens... 😉