With The Same Speed

It was a few quiet days after Uguisu-san returned.

In that short span of time, we spent our days together like lovers—holding hands under the setting sun, whispering promises beneath the rustling trees, as if the world belonged to only us.

But eventually, the day arrived—the day I had to move to Tokyo.

As I stood before the packed car, my heart heavy with farewells, my older sister Haruka leaned against the doorway, arms folded but smile gentle.

"Well… I guess my little brother is off to live in the big city now," she said, her voice teasing but tinged with melancholy.

"Don't forget to take care of yourself, Himeya," my mother added, brushing nonexistent dust from my jacket like she always did when she was worried.

"I will, Mom," I nodded, then turned to Haruka with a grin. "Haru-nee, if you ever want to visit Tokyo, don't forget to call me, alright?"

"Sure, sure. You'll regret inviting me," she chuckled.

And then, my mother turned her gaze to the girl standing quietly beside me.

"Uguisu-chan," she said, softly.

"Yes, ma'am," Uguisu-san replied, straightening up.

"Please… take care of our Himeya," my mother said, bowing her head deeply. The sight struck me—it wasn't just a request, it was a mother entrusting her child.

Uguisu-san smiled with a trace of nervousness and bowed in return.

"I will. I promise."

We loaded our bags into the car and made one last stop—Uguisu-san's family home.

Her mother, standing by the front steps with teary eyes, gave her daughter a long, loving look.

"Uguisu… you've grown into such a beautiful and independent young woman. Please take care of yourself."

"I will, Mom," Uguisu-san replied, wrapping her arms around her mother tightly. "Thank you for everything."

Her father, standing nearby with a stoic expression, turned to me with surprising gentleness in his voice.

"Himeya-kun… I'm trusting you. Protect our daughter."

"I will, sir," I said, bowing politely.

Then her mother took a step forward and smiled at me.

"Himeya-san," she said with a kind tone. "Our Uguisu… she loves you very much. So please, take good care of our daughter."

Those words struck something inside me. It sounded less like a farewell and more like a blessing—like the kind someone gives before a wedding. My face turned crimson at the thought.

We finally arrived in Tokyo.

The apartment was stunning—sleek, modern, and far too luxurious for two country kids like us. I carried the luggage up, and just as I was about to tell Uguisu-san to sit and rest, she brushed past me and began unpacking.

"I told you to sit down," I said, half-laughing.

"And leave everything to you? No way. We're in this together," she replied, smiling.

As we sorted our things, side by side, she suddenly said with a soft laugh,

"We already look like a married couple, don't we?"

"Yeah… I guess we do. I mean, we'll be living together from now on," I replied, scratching my cheek awkwardly.

We laughed. We smiled. And for a moment, I truly believed happiness had finally arrived.

But life has a cruel habit of sneaking in shadows when you least expect it.

That night, I woke up to the sound of muffled sobbing.

I stepped out of the bedroom and found Uguisu-san sitting alone in the living room. The curtain had been drawn open, and the pale moonlight poured in, gently illuminating her figure like a quiet ghost wrapped in silver light.

"…Uguisu?"

She turned slightly, quickly wiping away the tears on her cheeks."Ah… sorry. Did I wake you?"

I silently walked over and sat beside her. For a moment, neither of us said anything.

"I was just… scared," she finally whispered. "Scared that someday... all of this will disappear."

Her voice trembled, fading into the hush of the night.

Without saying a word, I reached out, took her hand, and pressed it gently against my cheek."I'm here," I said softly. "I'll always be with you. No matter what."

She blinked in surprise. And then, the sadness in her eyes melted just a little—just enough to form a gentle smile.

"You really are the same," she said, looking up at me. "We really do see the same scenery."

"Huh?"

"As long as we keep walking side by side," she continued, her voice quiet but certain, "we'll always see the same scenery. We'll always move forward at the same speed."

It was a line from one of the novels I had written. She was quoting it.

"I remember… back then, you once told me I was like the moon."

"...Yeah," I nodded, feeling the memory warm and distant.

"If I'm the moon… then you, Himeya-kun, are the sun."

"The sun?"

"Yes," she said, her voice cracking just slightly. "You shine so brightly… You lit up my world. You were there when everything around me was dark… You pulled me out when I was breaking."

I couldn't speak. My throat tightened. All I could do was smile and nod—because if I tried to talk, I was afraid my voice would break too.

"I'm glad I met you," she said, her voice barely audible. "I'm glad I could walk beside you."

She leaned against me. Her head rested on my shoulder, her fingers tightening slightly around mine.

And then—

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

That's when I noticed her trembling.

"I wanted to stay like this forever," she said, her voice quivering. "But… my body... it's not as strong as it used to be."

"What are you talking about…?" My voice broke.

She didn't answer. Only the sound of the wind brushing against the window filled the silence.

"I didn't tell you because… I didn't want you to look at me with pity."

I turned to face her, eyes wide.

"I wanted you to remember me smiling."

Tears spilled down her cheeks again—but this time, she didn't wipe them away.

"I'm scared too, Himeya-kun. But… if I disappear one day, promise me you'll keep writing. Promise me you'll keep walking forward."

I clutched her hand tightly, trying to hold onto the warmth, the moment, the girl who had become my whole world.

"I promise," I said, my voice trembling.

And as the moon watched over us from the sky, I realized that even the most beautiful nights… were made of fragile light.