The River Remembers.

Chapter 2: The River Remembers.

A river does not stop flowing, no matter what it carries. It takes what it is given-fallen leaves, lost things, shattered reflections-and sweeps them away. It does not ask why. It does not resist.

Yuuta sat on the edge of the riverbank, watching the water shift and shimmer under the weight of the evening light. The sky bled shades of amber and deep violet, a quiet reminder that time was always moving forward, whether she wanted it to or not.

She heard footsteps behind her, soft but deliberate.

"You never liked rivers," a voice said.

Yuuta didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Miyake Hasabe.

The woman had a way of arriving exactly when Yuuta least expected her, and yet, somehow, exactly when she needed her most.

Yuuta exhaled, a half-laugh escaping her lips. "I never said that."

"You didn't have to."

Hasabe sat down beside her, legs crossed, hands resting loosely on her lap. She didn't say anything at first, letting the river speak for them in its quiet, endless murmur.

A breeze moved through the trees, rustling the leaves in a way that almost sounded like laughter. Yuuta closed her eyes for a moment, letting it pass through her, feeling the way it lifted the weight pressing against her ribs.

"It's been a while," Yuuta murmured.

Hasabe tilted her head, the corners of her lips twitching. "Not long enough for you to change, though."

"That a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Depends."

Yuuta smirked. "Still vague as ever."

"And you're still lost."

Yuuta glanced at the river. "You make it sound like a bad thing."

"It's not. Just means you're still looking for something."

"What if I never find it?"

"Then you keep looking."

A silence settled between them, not uncomfortable but heavy with things unsaid. The river carried their reflections-distorted, shifting, never quite whole.

"You talked to him, didn't you?" Hasabe asked.

Yuuta didn't answer right away. "Yeah."

"And?"

"And nothing."

Hasabe raised an eyebrow. "Nothing?"

"What did you expect?"

"Something more than 'nothing."

Yuuta let out a slow breath. "It was... strange. He was calm."

"That surprises you?"

"A little."

Hasabe hummed. "Maybe he's moved on."

Yuuta's fingers curled around a stray blade of grass. "Or maybe he just knows how to hide things better than I do."

"That's possible."

A pause. Then-

"Do you regret it?"

Yuuta's breath caught in her throat. The river kept flowing, its surface rippling with the weight of things she couldn't say.

"I don't know."

Hasabe gave her a look. "You do."

"It doesn't matter if I do or not."

"It does if it's still keeping you up at night."

Yuuta scoffed. "Who said I can't sleep?"

"Your face."

"Rude."

"Honest."

Yuuta sighed, rubbing her temple. She should've known better than to think Hasabe would let this slide.

"Fine. Maybe I do."

Hasabe's expression softened. "Then what's stopping you from fixing it?"

"You think it's that simple?"

"I think it's only as complicated as you make it."

Yuuta let out a bitter laugh. "And if it's already too late?"

"Then you accept that and move forward."

Yuuta stared at her. "You say that like it's easy."

"It's not."

"Then why do you sound so sure?"

Hasabe smiled, but there was something old in it, something heavy. "Because I've been where you are."

The wind carried her words away before Yuuta could catch them. She turned to look at Hasabe, but the woman was still gazing at the river, as if the answer to everything lay somewhere beneath its surface.

"You never told me that."

"You never asked."

"I didn't think I had to."

Hasabe's smile turned wistful. "People don't always say the things they should."

"Yeah," Yuuta murmured. "I know."

The sky had darkened, the last sliver of gold sinking below the horizon. The river, no longer illuminated by the sun, looked deeper now. Endless.

"What are you going to do?" Hasabe asked.

Yuuta exhaled. "I don't know."

"Then figure it out."

"You always make it sound so simple."

"Because life already makes things complicated enough."

"That's... fair."

Hasabe chuckled. "I know."

They fell into silence again, but it wasn't heavy. It was the kind of silence that came when words had done all they could, and now, only time could do the rest.

"You're staying in the city for a while, right?" Hasabe asked.

Yuuta nodded. "For now."

"Good."

"Why?"

Hasabe stretched her arms. "Because you owe me coffee."

Yuuta blinked....What?

"You heard me."

"Since when?"

"Since now."

For the first time in what felt like a long time, Yuuta laughed. It wasn't much, wasn't enough to fix everything-but it was something.

Yuuta shook her head, a tired smile still lingering on her lips. "You're unbelievable."

Hasabe smirked, standing up and dusting off her jeans. "I know. She stretched, the motion languid, as if she carried none of the weight Yuuta did. But Yuuta knew better.

She glanced back at the river. The water had darkened, reflecting the deep indigo of the sky. The wind had stilled, the leaves no longer rustling like laughter.

"You coming?" Hasabe asked, hands in her pockets.

Yuuta hesitated.

She could stay here, staring at the water, letting the night settle into her bones. Or she could get up, walk away from this spot, and-what? Keep moving forward? Pretend like she knew where she was going?

Hasabe was waiting. Not pushing. Just... waiting.

Yuuta exhaled and pushed herself up. "Fine. But if we're getting coffee, you're paying."

Hasabe raised an eyebrow. "That's not how this works."

"It is now."

"Yuuta."

"Hasabe."

They stared at each other for a moment before Hasabe rolled her eyes, a breath of laughter escaping her lips. "Unbelievable."

"I know."

They walked away from the riverbank, their steps in sync, the night stretching wide and uncertain before them. The city lights flickered in the distance, small beacons against the dark.

Maybe things wouldn't change overnight. Maybe regret didn't fade as easily as the last light of day.

But for now, there was coffee. And someone to share it with.

The river did not stop flowing. But for a moment, just a moment, Yuuta let herself breathe.