Sayo woke to silence.
Not the peaceful hush of morning or the quiet hum of wind, but a deeper stillness. The kind that lives in empty spaces—unfinished poems, unanswered questions, and the lives we never dared to pursue.
The fourth fragment shimmered faintly in the Book of Remnants.
She ran her fingers along its surface.
Ren was still sleeping, curled on his futon near the window of their new inn in Kumamoto. Outside, the city moved on—traffic lights flicked between colors, birds picked at vending machine scraps, and the world remained unaware that its past and future were balanced in the hands of two seventeen-year-olds.
But Sayo's mind was elsewhere.
In the dream, Izanagi had said: The next fragment lies in the life you almost lived.
What did that mean? How could something that never happened leave behind a remnant?
She touched the book again. It pulsed.
And in her mind, she heard a single word:
"If."
---
Ren stirred awake and sat up slowly. "Did you see it?"
Sayo nodded. "A memory… that isn't a memory."
He blinked. "Me too. We were in Tokyo. Older. We never met."
She turned to him. "That's the life we didn't live."
They stared at one another.
A version of reality where they had passed each other on the street. Where Ren had become a photographer. Where Sayo had studied folklore. Where they lived parallel lives—close, but never intersecting.
And yet…
Somehow, that life still existed in the margins.
---
Following the book's pull, they visited an old bookstore in central Kumamoto. It was the kind of place that didn't advertise, didn't open on time, and didn't carry anything newer than 1970.
Inside, dust danced in beams of amber light. The walls were lined with shelves that seemed to sag beneath the weight of forgotten thoughts.
The owner—a rail-thin man with horn-rimmed glasses and eyes like a storm—looked at them for a long time before speaking.
"You came for the diary."
Neither had mentioned a word.
He led them to the back and opened a drawer behind the counter. Inside was a single book, bound in pale blue silk.
On the cover, the name "Sayuri."
---
Sayo's hands trembled as she opened it.
Each page was written in her handwriting.
But she had never written these words.
March 12th
I saw a boy on the train today. He looked sad. Like he'd lost something, but didn't know what.
March 18th
I passed him again. He was taking pictures of crows. Why does it feel like I've met him before?
April 2nd
His name is Ren. We spoke for the first time. It felt like breathing.
Ren leaned over her shoulder. "This is us."
"But we never lived this," Sayo whispered.
"No," said the bookstore owner. "But the soul remembers its detours. You could have lived this life. You almost did. That thread still echoes."
Sayo turned the pages.
The entries stopped abruptly.
June 28th
I'm leaving Tokyo. I never told him how I felt. I don't think I ever will.
A blank space followed.
Then one final note, in shakier writing.
August 7th
Maybe in another life.
---
The book burst into flames in her hands.
But instead of burning, it transformed. The ash swirled upward, weaving itself into a delicate charm—silver and pale blue, shaped like a paper crane mid-flight.
It drifted down and nestled into the Book of Remnants.
The fifth fragment.
---
That night, Sayo and Ren walked the city's riverbanks, quiet.
"What do you think would've happened?" she asked. "If we had lived that life?"
Ren didn't answer right away. Then:
"We'd still be searching for something. Just without knowing what."
She nodded. "Like ghosts haunting a future that didn't happen."
He turned to her. "But I'm glad we found this path. Even with the pain."
They stopped at a bridge.
Below, the water shimmered with city light.
Sayo tossed a coin into the river.
"Not a wish," she said. "A thank you."
The cranes stirred in her mind.
And for the first time, they whispered back.
---
That night, Izanami appeared in her dream.
She stood in a garden of glass, surrounded by flowers that bled ink instead of nectar.
"You remembered the path not taken," the goddess said.
Sayo looked down. "It hurt."
"All truths do."
Izanami raised her hand.
"The next fragment lies in blood. In betrayal. In the life you ended too soon."
The garden withered.
And Sayo woke with her hand clenched around a tiny knife-shaped charm.
The book glowed.
Sixth fragment waiting.