Mechamaru’s last remnants are in a small device in my hands. The small screen glows faintly, the static hum filling the silence around me as I hold it tightly, my knuckles white. His voice is almost ghostly, but still as familiar as ever, reaching out from a distance that feels both close and painfully far.

"Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you talk to me about it? Is it because I’m… too weak?"

The words sting as they leave my lips, a question that’s haunted me for so long—did he keep secrets because he didn’t believe in me? There’s a pause before his answer. Then, softly, his voice returns, like he’s speaking from the shadows.

"No. I’m the one who’s weak. There was someone I really liked."

As Mechamaru’s words come through the device, my tears begin to spill. I clutch it to my chest, the only part of him I have left. His voice is fading, each word slipping further away. I can feel the finality in his tone, hear the weight of his goodbye—and I can’t let go.

"Time’s up. Miwa."

“No!” My voice trembles with desperation, but it feels like my plea is already lost to him, as though he’s drifting beyond reach.

"Goodbye. Thank you for—"

“Don’t say that! Mechamaru!”

I cry, my grip tightening. My heart races, every beat filled with the things I never got to say. The silence stretches unbearably, and I hold my breath, waiting, hoping he’ll come back. But then he says,

"Miwa. You have to be happy."

Through the blur of tears, I glance at the empty seat beside me, and for a fleeting moment, I catch a glimpse of him, sitting there as he once might have, his presence a quiet comfort. My breath catches, and I reach out instinctively.

“Mechamaru?”

I whisper, hoping beyond hope that this time he’ll stay, though i know he's gone. As quickly as he appeared, the seat is empty again, leaving only my reflection staring back. And the weight of it all crashes over me, every goodbye and every moment we never got to share. I break down, my sobs echoing softly in the quiet train.