Itomori Town.

It was a beautiful town. A small civilization that was established around a circular lake, sacred as if blessed by the gods. The ideal haven for many people, both the young and the old. For generations, it had existed. For centuries, it had done good deeds for its people.

The clean water surface reflected the glow of the orange-tinted sky during the breaking of dawn. Plain houses and buildings that were built around the lake, both traditional and modern styles, helped create a spectacular and memorable landscape.

Quiet and peaceful it used to be, people with sharp sensitive ears would not be hard pressed to hear the chirping of birds or the rustlings of surrounding trees in the woods.

And of course, its locals. They treated one another like a friend, like a family. There was this connection that linked them together. It made them inseparable during the hardest times. And when were dire for help, no one would hesitate to lend an offering hand. Such was the people of Itomori, those favored by the gods. As humans, they were a part of the town.

Simply speaking, it was a town of nature, unharmed by human pollution. Slightly bustling as its resident performed their daily duties.

But that's not what he saw when stood by the railings of the abandoned high school, eyes upon the wreckage once known as Itomori. It was nothing like the pictures the website had shown him, a far cry from the magnificent town it used to be.

Trees were uprooted, thick trunks snapped in half as if it was nothing but mere twigs. Buildings that used to house the thousand inhabitants of Itomori Town were destroyed and tossed aside like broken toys. The lake, once glistening and clear as crystal, was now murky with filth and defiled by litter.

And it was hollow of humans, of any living beings. As far as his eyes could see, there wasn't a moving object.

Where it once was peaceful, was now a desolated silence, wrecked and ruined beyond recognition.

Needless to say, it pained him significantly that the town he grew quite obsessed with was now in scraps and pieces, never to be rebuilt again. A part of his heart bled ichor as he took in the sight in silence, knuckles gripped the railings until they turn white. Throughout it all, he was trying to uphold an impassive expression, to keep a strong image, to keep the lump from forming in his throat. He sighed miserably.

The chef stood beside him, smoking a cigarette as he watched the rising sun in the horizon. Lips tightened into a grimace, his dull eyes reflected no shine from the lights.

Even as the elder male appeared to be indifferent to the destruction of his born place, internally he was probably mourning secretly, Taki could discern that from the stress lines visible on his forehead. The distant look in his eyes confirmed that he was in fact in deep thoughts, not to be disturbed.

The two stood rigidly as what was once Itomori Town basked in the morning rays of the sun.

Taki realized with a start, that the tragic fate the ruined town Itomori was destined.

It had offered much to the residents. It gave them homes, food, and unforgettable memories. And yet, in the end, it was given a fated destruction, wiped out from the face of the earth.

At that, Taki thought that if gods do exist high above, they would cruel beings. Itomori had done nothing but serve fleeting locals when they built the town, and for hundreds of years, it had provided shelter for the homeless and desperate ones.

But even so, after all that, a comet came, trailing across the sky, painting it with kaleidoscopic colors. It was beautiful, even as it struck down Itomori from the heavens.

Even when Itomori no longer exists, it would still lived on, in the heart of residents, and in Taki's heart. Its tale would carry on from father to son, mother to daughter. He had no doubt that it would live on, forever and ever.

Taki sighed, running a hand across his face, rubbing his eyes in the process, hoping to get rid of the somnolence.

Far and beyond, despite the devastation far down below, the weather was in great condition, much to his bemusement.

Snowy white clouds drifted swiftly across the clear and bright sky, engulfed in complete silence without any noises, eagles circling high above with lazy grace. And then there's the sun, without any obscuration from any non-existing skyscrapers, it was dazzling. Those were something Tokyo could never hope to achieve even on its best days.

The chef shifted beside him and gave a weary and heavy sigh, and Taki's attention was diverted.

"It's been so long," the man drawled, a bitter smile appeared on his face, "almost twenty-three years. But those memories are still fresh in my mind."

He kept his silence. When it dragged on, as it became a little bit unbearable, he noticed that the chef wasn't continuing. Swallowing, he broke it hesitantly.

"Of Itomori?" he asked quietly. And the chef nodded.

"Yes, mostly childhood memories, both the good and the bad, but mostly the bad," the chef replied, "you know, I was thinking of returning to enjoy the Autumn Festival with my wife, but we were busy that day, and decided to hold back to wait for the next year," he snorted, "but now we'll never have the chance."

Taki had no good reply to this. Never converse about a sour subject, that would be an insensitive action. He decided to change the subject to something harmless, something that they would have no problem talking about.

"Actually, I've been wanting to ask," meekly the boy said, try not to sound meddling, "how old were you when you left Itomori?"

"Why don't you try guessing?" again with that irritating tone that made Taki's eyebrows twitch.

"Uh… I don't know, high school?" He humored the chef, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

The chef snorted again, apparently finding the answer amusing, "not quite, I quit high school during my second year after my parents died in a car accident."

Taki winced.

The chef ignored the look Taki shot at him, "don't give me that look, it was a long time ago," he huffed.

"Ah… right, sorry," Taki licked his lips, so much for changing the subject. "So, after you left, where did you go to?"

"Tokyo. Heard that it treated the young generations well. Decided to try my luck there."

"Tokyo?" Taki repeated, surprised as he met the chef's gaze.

"Yeah, Tokyo," the chef questioned, eyebrows arched, "what's wrong with Tokyo?"

"Nothing," eyes strayed upwards to the blue sky, Taki scratched the back of his head, "it's just that I'm from Tokyo, and that's surprising… I guess?" the man met his words with a deadpan stare, as though asking 'do I look like I care?'

Taki had the decency to blush, "sorry, please continue."

The chef scoffed, then his lips curved into a good-natured grin, "anyways, I moved to Tokyo, hope that I would find a decent job there. Was pretty hard getting used to a city's life the first few weeks. Got rejected a few times in job interviews, some bull about never went to a college nor finished high school."

"But eventually became a bartender in a pub, satisfactory salary, and a small and comfy apartment to live in. At that time, that was all I asked for," his voice was muffled as he took another drag from his cigarette.

"And yet you are here, serving ramen in the countryside. Why's that?" He didn't realize how rude he sounded until the words left his mouth. There was a sudden urge to smack himself in the head for his stupidity. But the man didn't seem quite offended, instead shot a why-are-you-asking-so-much look at Taki. He managed to force a sheepish smile.

It wasn't like that he could help it; after talking to a handful of people during this trip, he had grown on the role of a listener. He never knew it until recently, but it was a rather enjoyable experience listening to the elders talking about their past, their words of wisdom and advice did more than widening his horizons. They are wise because they speak from experience.

They were pleasant also to talk to, once you get used to how often they went off-topic or their frequent nonsense rambles.

It had changed his opinions of the elderly bunch immensely.

The chef grunted in vexation, but nonetheless continued.

He inhaled a breath deeply from his cigarette, "I guess since I'm born in the countryside, a life in the city never fits me, so damn noisy and crowded," the man caressed his stubbles, "so, the moment I earned myself enough wealth, I went here. And of all the things I could've done, I opened a ramen stand."

"…"

He gave a throaty chortled at Taki's dumbfounded look, "It isn't as bad as it sounded, it's quite fulfilling actually. Not to mention cooking was rather fun as well," he smiled broadly, "and I guess somewhere along the lines I met my wife. A few years later we decided it was time to settle down."

"Never regret it. Simple and peaceful, that's the life I've always wanted to live in. Unlike you city brats."

This time Taki could help but laugh at the jab, a genuine one, a lively bark of laughter. Strangely, he felt like he could open up to this man a bit.

"…that I can relate, I think," folding his arms under his head, staring almost nostalgically at the rising sun, Taki mused, "I've always wanted to live in a peaceful and quiet place. Admittedly, Tokyo is a bit too fast-paced for me. Everything just seems to move so fast. A moment I was in elementary school still learning English from the alphabet soup, the next I'm in my final years in high school."

"School is overrated, what you learned back then doesn't really matter when you are out there livin'."

"That, I agree."

And thus, signaling the end of their little talk. They settled in calm silence as they continued to watch over Itomori Town.

It's been a long time since Taki felt himself at ease, all the piled tension that had stacked up upon his shoulders slid off like water on a duck's back. He felt lighter, his mind was clearer, and a pleased smile was etched on his face.

A year ago, it was hellish. Buried under piles of work, he was either rushing through his studies, preparing for exams, or working furiously in his part-time job in that Italian restaurant. The pressure kept building up on his shoulders and he barely had time to rest.

A few strands of white hair had grown out, but he kept them since it reminded him of the sweat and effort he had put in his high school, that and because he found it cool as it made an interesting contrast with his dark brown hair.

To lessen his burden and allowing more time for his studies, he quitted his job. No tears were shed though as he promised the manager that he will return shortly after the exam the moment he was a freeman. It wasn't like that he was desperate for money, since he didn't go to the café as often than he used before.

He still frequently met up with Okudera-senpai for tea or just to chat. Now that his little crush had subdued and distinguished, talking to her became a lot easier than it used to. And admittedly, laughing at her jokes or misfortunate tales were excellent stress relief.

But the pressure still lingered, existing deep down his bones, often piling at a faster rate than they were released. It was taxing to his body and mentality, and regularly he would find himself in need of a nap as drowsiness overcame him.

Right now, at this moment, that frustrating hollowness in his chest had subsided, and the burden was lifted off his back if only briefly.

"Freedom~" he sang slothfully, uncaring of the weird look the chef tossed at him.

A ray of sunlight glared at his face, turning his vision white momentarily. Taki groaned and blinked furiously, shielding the light with his free hand. Blinding shines it radiated aside, he thought the warmth from the sun was cozy and comfortable, a nice contrast with the refreshment the cool morning air offered.

An eased smile formed on his face, gratifying and relaxing.

Taki wasn't aware how much time passed, but the next he when he was aware of his surroundings was when a phone rang, disturbing the comforting silence that he secretly hoped would last.

The chef, who he still hadn't bother asking for his name, fumbled with his jacket pocket and fished out his phone. Oblivious to Taki's open stare, the chef flipped open the lid of his phone and fiddled with it, bushy eyebrows raised at its content.

"Hm, time sure flies…" he muttered before returning his phone back to his pocket. He turned to Taki, "look kid, I need to go now. I'll be picking you up some time at seven, give or take half-an-hour depending the rush hour."

Taki nodded, the guilt of towing the man in his troubles rose again. And considering that one day might not be enough for him to be thoroughly done with Itomori, he might need a couple more rides.

"I'm really sorry for causing you extra burden," the courtesy underlying in his tone was clear as day.

Though the chef didn't show it, Taki knew he was secretly pleased with the respect he gotten out from him, the glint in his eyes was the proof of that.

"Whatever, just don't get lost out there, call me if you need our help. We only respond to urgent calls, so don't call me for a spare pair of pants if you pissed yourself."

Taki contained his laugh at the joke. And as the laughter subsided, he replied with his most grateful and earnest voice, "I will, thanks."

The chef nodded briskly, then he turned and walked away. The cigarette was discarded on the ground with a flick of his wrist, and proceeded to crush it under his heel as he left for his van.

It was through the crunching of the man's shoes on the gravel and the soft noise of engines being lighted, Taki knew that the man was gone the next time he turned around. In the distance, the van disappeared behind a steep hill, and only two tire trail remained on the dirt path.

Now it was just him and Itomori Town, anticipation welled up, he wet his lips.

Taki glanced at his side at the abandoned school grounds, where a subtle link could be felt as he took in the appearance of the worn out and vacant building. Weak and flickering, it was still a link.

Inexplicably, there was this drawing force that seemed to pull him towards the building, as if something inside was calling for him, demanding his presence. And strangely, he complied, all uncertainty was irrelevant as he found himself walking towards the school at a sedated pace. He moved in trance-like movements, almost like his body was moving on its own.

Though he would admit, he was a bit creeped out at the building's appearance. From the deteriorating paint of the school walls to the small but visible cracked fissure in the pillars, this school was just like one of the haunted schools straight out from those horror movies.

But still, he steeled his resolve. That was a silly and petty fear, like how children were afraid to visit the cemetery or a journey to a haunted house. The desire to fill the emptiness within him was simply stronger, it was his top priority now, more important than anything.

He took a stroll around the school grounds in a circle, absorbing the exterior of the school into his mind, and noted with surprise how medium-sized the school was.

It made sense actually, while this was the only high school around the area, the total population of Itomori residents were about a thousand, the teenagers took about a fifth or a sixth of that number. So as there were only about two hundred students that went to the school, there's no need for a huge building to contain such small number of students.

Twirling a stone he picked from the ground in his pocket to ease the trembling of his fingers. Was it from anxiety or excitement, he didn't know.

Then, he stopped by a lone tree standing on a patch of greenfield, indolently letting his mind wander, where his thoughts disappeared as soon as they appeared.

Taki surveyed his surroundings, a couple chairs and desks here and there, covered in dirt and moss. Their existence was forgotten and now they were left to rot. A sad fate that they were destined, never able to fulfill their purpose they were created for.

A group of teenage friends, enjoying their lunch under the shade while chatting happily.

Absent-mindedly, he swatted some dust off the surface of a dust-filled table and dropped his heavy bag on it with a thud.

A sudden wave of fatigue crashed down on him as the heaviness left him. Unable to control himself, he yawned loudly, bones gave satisfying pops as he stretched afterward. He rolled his shoulders to loosen his muscles, tense and sore from carrying the weighty bag.

"Right," he stifled another inevitable yawn, "time to do some exploring." He unzipped the travel bag and grabbed his flashlight and a bottle of water, and left it open as he turned to approach the empty facility.

Mid-way he patted the bulge on his coat to confirm the presence of the sketches he brought from home. He'd never know when if he would need it later.

As Taki came close to the 'do not approach— off-limits!" tags, he ignored them completely as if it was never there, and stepped over the tape without any hesitation, without a care in the world. He breathed a snort, as if he would let it stop him now that he was this close.

The pull he felt from the school grew stronger with every step he took, almost like it had its own gravitational force, pulling Taki towards the core.

Now that he was a lot closer, he took a more detailed examination of the school, and grimaced at its terrible state. The shockwave the comet caused must had been ridiculously strong to have affected the school even as its crash site was miles away.

Though even if the school appeared to be on the verge of falling apart, he doubted that it really would. Buildings in Japan were built to withstand earthquakes, often tougher than they appeared to be. But still, it wouldn't hurt to be careful.

When Taki stepped through the school entrance, mindful of the trash and sharp shards scattered across the floor, he was promptly faced with rows of old and grubby lockers.

Some were left open upon closer inspection, containing items and properties of students; indoor shoes, sports uniform, a couple useless scraps of papers. The leftovers.

Students came filling in faster than they left for their classroom, crowding the tight place with teenagers, tittering with fellow schoolmates as they changed their shoes for indoor ones.

Blinking, Taki went over to one of the lockers and brushed his hand across the dull surface, and rubbed his fingers together to get rid of the hair-thin layer of dust he gathered.

A wave of familiarity strike him the way the cool metal had greeted his touch, it left a prickling sensation as his fingers left the surface. It glinted dully under a stray ray of sunlight, as though welcoming the return of a young friend.

He shook his head to clear the strange thoughts. He was overthinking it again.

That aside, he could deduce from the condition of the lockers, that the school had been abandoned for a long time since the comet hit, and that it never got its maintenance during that timeframe. That was good, it means no one would be here to interrupt him, or arrest him for trespassing restricted area.

He turned away from the lockers to the corridors. And throughout the silence hallway, only the faint thumping of his footsteps echoed with steady regularity.

He didn't know the layout of the school, and let his legs carry wherever it felt he needed to go, where he must go.

He passed the infirmary without a pause, without sparing a glance, and kept a consistent speed as he strolled down the hallway, eyes darting from side to side as he took in the surroundings with his sharp eyes.

It wasn't filthy nor utterly disgusting like a sewer per se, but its untidiness certainly reached a new level.

Every step he took he needed to be careful not stepping on shards of glass or other junk, evading ponds of liquid that had pooled on the floor like they were explosive land mines. Once ducking his head to dodged the lamp that was suspended in midair by its wires, and taking the long way around to avoid the large caved-in fracture in the floor.

It was like walking through a war zone, minus the bullet holes or scorch marks. The entire time he was traversing the corridor to reach the other end, he was burning through his limited source of concentration and focus.

And it sure did take him a long time to waddle his way through the sea of trash, and another extra while for him to find a case of stairs in this labyrinth of a school, hopefully leading to the second floor.

From there onwards Taki proceeded with light and silent steps, barely audible to his keen ears.

It was after his terrific climb of the frailest case of stairs he knew the true importance of caution. He was not exaggerating when he said he feared for his life back then, especially when the concrete under his shoe actually cracked when he put his weight on a particular stair step.

His heart nearly jumped out his throat back then. Taki shuddered at the horrifying memory, and returned back to his task: walking down the corridor.

The sea of broken glass shards and wood splinters were not making navigating through this corridor any easier to his irritation. He almost snarled as a splinter from a broken chair hooked his trousers, he yanked it away harshly, not caring if it would damage the cloth.

Eventually, with more effort than it was necessary, Taki made it to the other side of the trash pile.

A growl of annoyance was inevitable when he caught sight of his shoes. The sole his sports shoe was covered in dirt. Patches and spots of filth and oil scattered across the cotton fabric of his pants, wet and cold it latched on his skin.

He was lucky he brought a spare pair of clothes. He thanked his father for reminding him to take spares. He wasn't sure if the chef would let him in the car if he was all filthy and dirty.

Soon, he was moving again after gulping down mouthfuls of water, stopping at times when he had to pause to take in particular details of the school, observing the environment around him attentively.

Strange, it was strange. The sense of familiarity struck him like none other. The first time he laid his eyes on the school, he felt like he had seen it from somewhere. The moment he stepped in the entrance, he felt like he had been here before.

Every time he stared at a closed door, it was like he knew what to expect behind the thin board of wood. Let it be a classroom, the music room, the staff room, the janitor reserved area, he always seemed to have a faint idea what was behind each and every door.

It was like he knew this school as well as his school back in Tokyo.

As soon as he mulled over the fact did he caught sight of the sign of a room. He stopped abruptly, eyes blinking at the bold words imprinted on the piece of plastic. It did a splendid job capturing his attention.

The art room. Interest grabbed hold his mind as the artistic blood in his veins flared and dominated. An alluring aura made him itch to know what laid in the room, tempting him.

The teen placed a hand on his chin as he walked closer to the room. Throughout all those years, he had quite grown to appreciate the artworks other people made, drenched with sweat and effort, created with unthinkable theories.

It was the seeds of creative ideas, outrageous proposals, precise and calculated thoughts, all in the form of a piece of paper, in the form of a model. Be it a tiny statue made of clay, a sketch roughly drawn with quick and experienced hands, or a crayon drawing of monstrosity by some baby. They were art, made uniquely, never able to be imitated perfectly.

With ideas bloomed more ideas, always improving, constantly moving forward in wide and confident strides. Designs that never ever fail to be better than the last ones. Adapting, developing, growing, and transforming. That is the nature of humanity, that is art. It was what makes people humans, capable of acting on their own will.

Taki's life was surrounded by sketches and drawings, and it goes without saying that they were what made him the teen today.

He shrugged. Who knows? Perhaps the artworks of the resident of Itomori might just provide him what he needed. Taki supposed it wouldn't hurt to take a small peek.

He tried slid the door open, and frowned as the door refused to budge stubbornly, was it stuck? It certainly wasn't locked, since there were no visible keyholes on the door. Maybe some debris got under the crack between the floor and the door and messed with the wheels?

The wooden frame of the door was already frail to begin with, so he supposed he could break in if he used brute force. Property damages, not that anyone would care if it was on a desolated school that had been abandoned for ages. He gave a mild laugh as he prepared to reenact the common scene from many action movies.

Squaring his shoulders, he slammed his hands on the door, feeling it shudder as the wood groaned. Another kick and it caved it with a sharp snap, making him wince from the unexpected loudness. He stepped over the fragments as he entered the room, rubbing his stinging palms together gingerly.

The room was thoroughly trashed, not that Taki was expecting anything different.

Desks piled in a corner and chairs missing a leg or two. Windows were broken no doubt due to the shockwave of the comet's landing, allowing passage for the wind to slip through. It ruffled with pieces of newspaper and sketches, sending them all over the floor. Some fortunate artworks survived as they were stuck on the wall with a nail, it contained works of painting, sketches, designs and a couple messy notes.

Most of the drawers were opened, all its content was likely taken away by the people of Itomori when they left their destroyed town, though a few stray paint brushes and pencils left untouched. There were also a few tools on the bench as well, but most were broken beyond repairable, discarded and untouched.

But aside from that, it was somewhat unoccupied art room contrary to the one in Taki's high school. Since he did not see any student-made statue of some naked man or enormous unfinished artworks sitting in the room, it felt hollow and empty, which was a bit of a letdown.

But there was a wall pinned with a dozen pieces of papers, colorless sketches and paintings alike.

Taki leaned near some portrait, of a faceless student in a sitting position, and studied it closely as he took in the smooth curves and delicate details. "Not bad… though the head is a bit too big for my liking…" he criticized, "but I like the elbows though, very naturally drawn…"

Something lingered in the air, the teen noticed after he finished observing the third drawing. He tilted his head and sniffed, expecting the odor of rotting paint past its expiration date, but he smelled nothing to his confusion.

It was flavorless and colorless and untouchable, it wasn't even a smell, nonexistent. Yet weightlessly it dwelled in the air, giving out a certain presence. He felt it, saturated in the very air around him like a heavy mist, swirling and coiling around his body like a snake.

The snickers were getting on his nerves. He had always hated bullies. He reached a leg out and placed the heel of his shoe on a nearby table, the applied force caused the table to topple. A pleased and smug smirk came to his face as the room descended into stunned silence.

A melancholy sensation tugged at his chest, and something unexplainable wormed itself into the deepest bit of his subconscious. As soon as it appeared, it scattered and vanished, leaving nothing but a fleeting feeling.

"That was weird," Taki muttered as he tugged at his collar, feeling unbearably hot abruptly.

A particular sketch caught his gaze. Resulting him to walk over to the other side of the wall, removing the pin from said sketch and inspected it with a critical eye.

It wasn't a portrait like the others in that section of the wall, but a drawing of a scenery, detailed and precise. Of a ring of houses surrounding a circular lake.

"That's some nice drawing here. Isn't this Itomori?" Indeed, it was a sketch of said town before it was in ruins, drawn with incredible dedication.

Then, he frowned. He leaned in closer for a better look, at the lines, at the structure, at the sketch as a whole. Was it just him, but didn't this seemed a bit familiar?

The lines were sharp and curved around the end of each carefully drawn strokes, the barely visible arching lines representing the mountains were drawn with surprising lightness.

There was a certain flexibility in this drawing that made him raised an eyebrow. It was then it occurred to him that the style was very similar to his.

"Sketchy…" he muttered to himself, eyeing the formation of houses in awe.

The longer he stared at the sketch, the more familiar it seemed to him. He could be imagining it, but the way the church was drawn, the lake was illustrated, the shadings that were traced…

The quirks he discovered greatly resembled his own drawings, almost like an exact copy.

But, it could've been easily explained as a coincident, far from impossible. For example, someone once in this high school had a very similar drawing style and habit as himself was feasible, what else?

However, deep down, underneath all the logical explanations, he felt that this was not fortuity of pure chance, but of something else. This sketch, beautiful and flawless as it was, carried more than its appearance suggested.

With a firm nod of his head, he deemed it a valuable asset and considered worthy of investigating. He folded it neatly and stuffed it unceremoniously into his jeans pocket while stepping out the room. He would study it as soon as he returns to his inn later.

Taki walked in a random room directly across the art room, whose door was conveniently opened. The smell of old and aged wood greeted him like an autumn breeze, washing over face and engulfed his form. He hummed as he closed the door behind him, breathing deeply in the scent of the classroom.

His eyes opened as he inspected the room lazily.

Again, it was messy and unorganized, a though the desks were still roughly in rows with chairs pushed behind them, a slight improvement.

The blackboard was scribed with English sentences that were half rubbed off. A pile of books sitting on the teacher's desk, untouched as they waited to be picked up by their rightful proprietary. The curtains swayed as the wind blew in from the open windows.

A rather lonely scenery. An empty classroom that could no longer provide knowledge for the younger generations, deserted and abandoned it would remain for the rest of its eternity.

An irresistible urge overcame him and he neared a random student desk, the desire to take something home from Itomori, a reminder of this incredible and crazy trip.

Gripping the slightly frayed edges of the table he bent down to see if there were any property he could scavenge in the drawer, the corner of his lips curved up as he guessed right.

He reached in and fumbled with its content. The action winded up dust and made Taki sneezed and cough.

It wasn't until he managed to grab a notebook from the now messy pile did he stop holding his breath. Gasping for air, he retracted his arm out from the drawer, together with the thin book in tow.

Quickly, he eagerly read the name on the cover, inwardly hoping it would ring some bells in his head, but that didn't happen to his hidden disappointment.

He tossed the book on the desk as he straightened himself. After he found himself seated firmly on a lone chair, he started flipping through the pages and scanned through the organized notes.

It didn't take much observation skills to come out with the conclusion that this belonged to a girl, judging from the neat handwriting. His hopes were high that he would be able to find something of value here.

Japanese history, English language, Mathematics, Geography, blah blah blah, a random page of drawing, Japanese language, Physics, blah blah blah…

He breezed through the unimportant pages, sparing glances for each heading each page offered. Half way through the book and he was still not getting anything from it, nothing could stir his memories like that art room venturing did.

Another dozen pages later Taki grew slightly agitated, contemplating if he should stop wasting time on this and do something more useful.

His mind was half-set on placing the notebook back in the drawer. But then he felt it, as he skimmed through another page like he did with the others.

It was a subtle feeling really, the way it touched his heartstrings was considered gentle and tender, so faint and dim that he would've disregard it at any normal circumstances. But he didn't ignore it this time around. If there's one thing he learned from this trip, it would be to let his intuitions guide him, and do what felt right.

He traced back a few pages he over-flipped. Fingertips numb for once not because of the cold, but because of the fretfulness of what he might discover in the next minute.

And when he saw it, he sucked in a breath of the chilling air at the content the page provided.

Kataware-doki.

Something in his head contorted in an unpleasant way, like something had grabbed both sides of his brain and twisted. Feeling slightly nauseous, he rubbed his forehead to soothe the forming headache.

There, something was special with this term, that's for sure. Give how reading that word again made his head spun and disorientated like it was tossed in a blender.

With much effort, he pushed the dizziness away into the back of his head, pupils contracted as he read the sentences under the heading.

Kataware-doki = Twilight time

Occur every day in a certain timeframe when the sun is setting

For a brief moment, realms across time and dimension are crossed and reality is blurred

He frowned, lips pursed as he sat there quietly, fiddling with his bangs while he wondered just what word meant, or what it really meant to him. He'd never heard of this word before, yet he felt like he knew it somewhere else before, like he had heard of it before.

Was it something local to Itomori people? Because It certainly wasn't taught in school, his teachers never mentioned about this kataware-doki in their classes for as far as he could remember.

Or was it something he had heard of before but he wasn't paying attention, and automatically stored in his brain without him knowing and never remembered it until it was mentioned? Like a subconscious memory?

Nonetheless, even as realization didn't strike as Taki hope it would do, there's something more to it that made it felt so unique to him.

Something about this word was extremely meaningful to him. Something that made this word so crucial, so important, so catchy, so unforgettable.

It was so close, just on the tip of his tongue, sitting there as it waited for itself to be said.

Taki bit his finger, hard enough to leave an imprint. His fingers pulled at his hair, the slightly painful sensation kept his brain moving and working efficiently.

He knew it was something about Itomori, of a mountain high above clouds, looming over the village.

Something about a scenery, so beautiful that it was forever engraved in his memories, something he should never have forgotten.

Something was in his head, far down in his brain. Something was there, something he had been searching for a long while already.

But… what was it?

It was there, he was sure of it, he could even feel it yearning for his touch. But as of now, it was blurry, unremembered and censored.

He was an inch away from the answer, a thought away from remembering it all, if he outstretched his arm a bit more he could most certainly touch it. Yet it felt like it was so far beyond his reach, untouchable like it wasn't meant for a mere mortal, a Pandora's box.

What was it?

He wrecked his mind, pushing it with all the force he could muster, to force that bit of memory out from the pit and in the open. Veins popped out his forehead as he slammed, punch, kicked, and whipped his brain for the answer.

What was it…

What was it…

What was it…

"…"

Stubbornly, it refused to come out.

Lurking in the shadows with a teasing smile. Shying itself back to its little cave. Remained stubbornly hidden under his heart.

Taunting Taki with a mocking sneer as it sank back down in the sea of memories.

The thin line, the only thing that had been keeping him from breaking apart, snapped. His vision tainted an angry red.

There was a resounding slam as he slapped the notebook hard on the desk.

Grinding his teeth together, his stinging hands came up to cover the ugly expression he must've had on his face away from the world, skin turning red as he dragged his nails across his forehead to his cheek.

His shoulders shivered with barely leashed anger and rage, arms twitching to smash a desk to pieces. To vent his fury on something, anything!

What was it? It was so close, yet why couldn't he remember it? The answer was presented right in front of him, yet his hand phased through it like it was a mere phantom. It was inside him all along, yet no matter how deep or hard he dug it won't come out.

Angry tears gathered, blurring his vision. He exhaled and inhaled heavily through gritted teeth, a deep growl sounded from the bottom of his throat.

Frustration, anger, hatred, bitterness, disappointment. The darkest emotions surfaced as he struggled internally, keeping his rage in check and his fists from lashing out.

A bell tinkled softly.

Clear and distinct, even as there was a raging sea of chaotic emotions in his head.

"Calm down, take deep breaths. In, out. In, out," his father said, "take control of your temper. You are not a child anymore."

He shook as he repressed the red-hot flame in his stomach. Biting the side of his cheek, this time hard enough to draw blood, he crushed it down with all his power.

He sucked in a sharp breath of air, lungs itchy from the cool air. With difficulty, he forced his trembling body to still like a statue, shutting himself away from the world. Eyes closed and fists clenched, he waited.

And waited.

"…."

A moment later, he allowed his muscles to relax. Hot air came out in a puff before he inhaled another breath of fresh oxygen.

Whatever had been fueling his emotions were gone, the burning fire of fury had flickered and smothered, they left his body like it was sucked right out from his flesh. Leaving only a hollow soul behind.

Soon, only bitterness remained, as well as exhaustion and tiredness.

Like a defeated old man, he breathed a weary sigh, utterly void of energy, and let his head fall on the desk with a dull thud. The aching pain from his skull was brushed aside as he bit his lips with mixed feelings.

A part of him was still frustrated, the bitterness would linger no matter what he does. But another part of him felt shabby, ragged like he had suddenly aged ten years in a day.

He sighed, negativity rolling off his body in waves, eyes clamped shut as he blanked his mind, chasing away the unnecessary thoughts.

The teen stayed like that for a while, until the lingering burning heat from his earlier outburst faded and soothing iciness enveloped his head in a cool embrace.

"…why does this keep happening…" He mumbled against the dusty wood.

The classroom offered no reply, silent save for the dreary whistling of the wind.

Hey dudes.

Just letting you know, I love Kimi no Na Wa, otherwise, I won't be here writing this story of such length.

I've been always day dreaming about Taki actually taking the initiative and search for Mitsuha, and I really want to share this idea with you guys.

Don't worry, I will continue to update. In fact, the next chapter is already half-done.

I'll keep this story alive for as long as I can, as long as I still have that drive inside of me. I really want to finish this story.

And I want to thank you guys for sticking around, and it motivates me to keep this story going.

If you have any comments or ideas, please leave down a review. I'll read them.