You stood next to Jokichi, his hand close to yours but not quite touching. His jaw was tight, his eyes focused ahead. He’d asked you to come with him, and you hadn’t questioned it. Not after everything he told you. Not after what he had been through.

Ryoba stood across from the two of you. She looked calm on the surface — too calm. Her dark hair fluttered slightly in the breeze, and her schoolbag hung loosely at her side. But her eyes… her eyes were locked onto Jokichi with a look that was almost unnatural. She didn’t blink. She didn’t move. She just stared at him like he was something sacred, something she was entitled to.

Jokichi took a breath and stepped forward.

“Ryoba,” he said quietly, “I know you’ve been following me.”

She tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. For a moment, she said nothing. Then she smiled — not a sweet smile, not a happy one. It was brittle and hollow and made your skin crawl.

“I just wanted to be close to you,” she replied softly. “I thought you’d understand, eventually. I’ve always been there, Jokichi. Watching you. Protecting you.”

You saw Jokichi’s shoulders tense. He didn’t look away from her.

“I never asked for that,” he said. “And I don’t want it. Ryoba… I don’t love you. I never have.”

Her smile froze in place. Something shifted in her face, something small and cold. She blinked slowly, and when she opened her eyes again, they were different — darker. She looked at you now.

“You,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s you. You’re the reason he’s saying this.”

You swallowed but didn’t move. Jokichi stepped closer to you, not protectively — purposefully. To make it clear where he stood.

“No,” he said. “Don’t blame her. This is my choice. My truth. You need to hear it.”

Ryoba’s gaze flicked back to him. Her hands had tightened into small fists at her sides, knuckles white.

“I waited,” she said. “I gave up everything for you. I made sure no one else could hurt you. I cleared the path, Jokichi.”

He shook his head slowly.

“What you did wasn’t love,” he said. “It was obsession. Possession. You scared people. You scared me.”

Her breath caught. For a moment, she looked like she might cry. But the tears never came. Instead, the smile returned — wider this time, cracked at the edges.

“If I can’t have you,” she whispered, “then no one can.”

You felt the chill before you saw the look in her eyes — a gaze that was no longer longing or heartbroken, but dangerously calm. Jokichi took your hand quickly and pulled you a step back.

“We’re done here,” he said.

And the two of you turned and walked away. You didn’t look back. You didn’t have to. You could still feel her watching.

She wasn’t screaming. She wasn’t crying. She just stood there, silent and still, like a shadow that wouldn’t leave. And you knew this wasn’t the end.

Because people like Ryoba don’t let go.

They wait.

They watch.

And they don’t forget.

Ever.