Epilogue

“We’ll proceed with this manuscript. Thank you for your hard work on the revisions.”

In the chaotic office of the publisher, Inamura said this while holding the manuscript.

“No, thank you for your support.”

“Fuyutsuki-sensei, you’re a third-year university student now, right? Since you’re not job hunting, does that mean you’re going to be a full-time writer?”

“Yes, that’s my plan. I considered getting a job and writing on the side, but to maintain my current writing pace, full-time seems best.”

Inamura nodded at Yuto’s answer.

“You’ll definitely be fine as a full-time writer. You’ve been maintaining a pace of four to five books a year, and your sales are pretty good. With regular reprints, you could probably live off royalties alone for a while.”

Yuto shook his head at Inamura’s joke.

“I’ll keep writing. It’s a promise with her.”

“Right. I understand.”

Inamura smiled, then looked at a book on the nearby bookshelf in the meeting booth.

“It’s been over two years since then…”

Published a little over two years ago, “Shinigami ni Taisetsu na Koto” dominated bookstore sales and review site rankings. Word of mouth on social media spread explosively, leading to tens of thousands of reprints within a week of its release. Continuous reprints followed, making it a record-breaking bestseller. It was adapted into manga and film, becoming a rare sensation, and its prototype script was used in the National High School Drama Competition, where the performing school won both the Best Play and Best Original Script awards. The more poignant prototype was even published as an alternate story.

Ultimately, “Shinigami ni Taisetsu na Koto” marked Fuyutsuki Haruhiko’s comeback and established his name among those who hadn’t known him before.

“How’s Natsume-san?”

“She’s doing well.”

“That’s good to hear. Let’s all go for a meal sometime soon, including Haruka-chan.”

“Yes, I’m sure both Natsume and Haruka would be delighted.”

Inamura paused for a moment, then spoke hesitantly.

“Could you tell Natsume-san that our editorial team is always waiting for her? But if you think that might pressure her, then—”

“I’ll let her know. I’m sure it will encourage her.”

Inamura seemed relieved and smiled softly.

“But Inamura-san, do you even have the authority to make hiring decisions?”

“I’ve climbed high enough to push through something like that. Of course, I wouldn’t hire just anyone based on connections. It’s because I genuinely believe in Natsume-san’s abilities.”

“I’ll tell her. She’ll be pleased.”

After discussing the next project with Inamura, Yuto left the publisher in Bunkyo, Tokyo.

Stepping outside, the July sun scorched his skin.

He took the Metro from Gokokuji Station and alighted at Ikebukuro.

At Junkudo Bookstore, he found the person he was looking for in the literature section.

She was standing in the new releases corner, not picking up any books, just gazing at the colorful covers.

“Natsume.”

At his call, she—Kotoha—turned around quickly.

With a flower-like smile, Kotoha walked towards Yuto, her gait slightly awkward, favoring her right leg.

“Sen…pai. Umm…you’re…early.”

Her speech was halting as if she were searching for words, but Yuto responded without concern.

“Yeah. It was just the final adjustments. By the way, what were you looking at?”

After a slight pause, Kotoha asked,

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that…?”

“What were you looking at?”

Speaking in segments, it seemed to have gotten through this time.

“There are so many of Fuyutsuki Haruhiko’s books here. It’s amazing. Look, there’s even a pop-up display.”

Kotoha stared at the display, frozen.

“It says ‘Over 200,000 copies sold!'”

“Amazing. This book was just released recently, right?”

“Yeah. Inamura-san was pleased too.”

He spoke slowly on purpose.

Two and a half years ago, Kotoha underwent brain surgery.

The surgery itself was successful. The affected area was completely removed, and there’s no current sign of recurrence.

But she was left with the feared language disorder, affecting her speech, writing, and reading. Her ability to understand spoken language was relatively preserved but still not perfect. She also had a slight paralysis in her right leg.

“I want to be able to read books soon.”

Particularly with reading, she had severe aftereffects, initially unable to read at all. Through her dedicated effort and support from those around her, including Yuto, she had made gradual progress, but she was still not at a point where she could read fluently. Reading kana characters, which are phonetic, took longer than kanji, which are logographic. She couldn’t read the new works Yuto kept producing.

Suddenly, a shadow crossed Kotoha’s face.

“Natsume? What’s wrong?”

“Senpai. There’s a place I want to visit.”

“A place you want to visit?”

“…It’s been a while.”

The town surrounded by mountains had a green vibrancy incomparable to Tokyo, with a strong summer scent. In the rice fields, lush green rice plants swayed in the wind, the cries of cicadas absorbed by the distant cumulonimbus clouds in the blue sky.

Yuto and Kotoha had taken the Shinkansen and local trains for over three hours to reach their old high school town in Gifu. Neither had family homes there, so Yuto hadn’t visited since graduation, and Kotoha hadn’t been back since transferring to Tokyo.

“Why here all of a sudden?”

Standing on the platform of the unmanned station, Yuto asked Kotoha, who quietly gazed at the town.

It was unexpected.

For over two years, Kotoha had devoted most of her time to rehabilitation, recovering her language skills.

She attended therapy sessions with language pathologists and worked on hiragana workbooks, kanji drills, reading picture books, and fairy tales at home.

Yuto, as her boyfriend, had watched her tireless efforts to reclaim her words.

So it was unusual for her to suggest a spontaneous trip—something that seemed like a waste of time.

“Let’s go.”

Instead of answering Yuto’s question, Kotoha said that.

Though a bit concerned, he didn’t press further.

“That way.”

They rented a car near the station, driving slowly as Kotoha directed.

They passed their high school, observing the underclassmen practicing for clubs.

They went through the field path where Kotoha had once fallen into the rice paddies, now slightly better paved.

They drove by the theater where the drama club had performed the play that inspired Yuto to write the script.

They stopped briefly in front of Yuto’s old apartment, now occupied by someone else, where they had stayed up all night working on the script.

They revisited the places they had cycled through together, now viewed through the car window, driving as slowly as possible.

Three years was too short to change everything, yet too long for everything to remain the same, creating a mosaic of nostalgia and novelty that brought a subtle longing to Yuto’s heart.

Why did Kotoha want to come back to this town?

What was she thinking as she looked at these familiar landscapes?

“Natsume—”

“Stop the car.”

As they reached a bridge over the river at dusk, Kotoha said.

Yuto stopped the car, and Kotoha clumsily walked to the bridge. Before reaching the bridge, she crossed the pedestrian crossing to the opposite sidewalk.

“Hey, wait!”

Yuto got out of the car, but the pedestrian signal turned red.

While Yuto was stuck at the signal, Kotoha walked to the middle of the bridge and leaned on the railing.

The sight drained the blood from Yuto’s face.

“Natsume!”

Her back looked painfully distant, and he felt a terrifying fear that she might disappear from the world. He shouted and ran.

Dodging through the traffic, he crossed the road.

As Kotoha turned around in surprise, Yuto reached her and held her.

“Don’t do anything rash!”

“Huh?”

Kotoha tilted her head in confusion.

“Huh…? I thought you were going to jump off the bridge…”

“I wasn’t.”

Kotoha smiled wryly.

Realizing his misunderstanding, Yuto felt the tension leave his body.

“That scared me… Misleading…”

“Sorry. It’s because… this is where it happened.”

“Yeah. This is where you took up my challenge and jumped into the river.”

The image of Kotoha throwing herself into the river for the sake of a novel was still etched in Yuto’s mind.

“Hehe. Senpai’s panicked face was funny.”

“Don’t laugh… I was really worried.”

Yuto gently released Kotoha, who had remained in his embrace.

Finally, he voiced the question that had been on his mind.

“Natsume, why did you want to come here?”

The journey down memory lane was nostalgic and enjoyable but also a stark reminder that they couldn’t go back to those days, filling him with enough sadness to suspect Kotoha might be having dark thoughts.

Kotoha leaned on the railing, gazing at the river glistening in the sunset.

After a few moments of hesitation, she spoke.

“In these past two years,”

Yuto listened intently to her earnest words.

“Senpai kept moving forward, but I felt like I couldn’t catch up. It felt like Senpai had gone far ahead, leaving me behind.”

“Natsume…”

“That’s why I wanted to remember how I felt back then… when I had no doubts.”

So she visited the places where she had once passionately faced creation.

Yuto wanted to say that wasn’t true.

In the past two years, Kotoha had worked tirelessly to regain her words.

Even her doctors were amazed at her recovery speed, suggesting she might eventually regain her previous language abilities.

Kotoha had made that much effort and progress.

So—

“But”

Before Yuto could speak, Kotoha continued.

He couldn’t interrupt her carefully chosen words.

“I realized it wasn’t necessary.”

“Huh…?”

“I thought if I lost my words, I would lose stories too.”

So she had refused the surgery, choosing death.

“But that wasn’t the case.”

“It wasn’t?”

Not understanding her meaning, Yuto looked at her profile.

Her serene expression reflected the sunset on the river.

“The stories that supported me, the novels—Fuyutsuki Haruhiko’s novels—remain in my heart and still support me.”

Yuto held his breath.

Even if words were lost, the stories she had encountered had become part of her heart. They remained there, never disappearing.

“Even Fuyutsuki Haruhiko’s new works. I can’t read novels yet, but I can watch movies and dramas, feel the stories. They might be fragments of Fuyutsuki Haruhiko’s stories, but they make me want to read novels again… They give me the strength to move forward.”

Kotoha spoke, carefully choosing her words.

Yuto felt a deep affection and reverence for her effort and held back the emotions welling up inside.

He didn’t want to miss a single word of her thoughts.

“Coming here, I realized that.”

“Natsume…”

How had she come to that realization?

Yuto didn’t truly know.

But maybe, after spending over two years focused on rehabilitation, coming to this town had allowed Kotoha to reflect on the past, present, and future—Yuto thought.

If what she gained here wasn’t clinging to the past or despairing over the present, but hope for the future, it was something to be celebrated above all else.

Kotoha looked at Yuto with a gentle smile.

“I will definitely read books again. So, Senpai, keep writing lots and lots of stories for me.”

A breeze blew, beautifully rustling Kotoha’s hair.

Yuto nodded without hesitation.

“Yes. I will, always, for you.”

Since that day two and a half years ago, I have always written for you.

For you, and no one else.

Now and forever, that will never change.

The summer evening breeze rippled across the river.

On the bridge, their two shadows slowly blended into one.

TLN : OTSUKARE SAMA. I DONT KNOW GUYS, I FKNG HATE MYSELF FOR DOING THIS WORKS. FUCCCC I CRIED MOST OF THE TIME.

I don’t know when will i recover from this gloomy happy gladness, but this is one of the best LN that i have ever read. its really good. I might delay Liar’s Lips Fall Apart in Love 1 or 2 weeks since i’m rushing this novel (currently 6-10-2024) so thanks guys for reading it. For my coin supporter i really appreciate you guys. i really really love you guys !