The Last Thing He Said.

Chapter 29 - The Last Thing He Said

The rain hadn't stopped since that night.

Kenta stood beneath the awning of a quiet street, watching droplets strike the pavement in rhythm with the memories swirling in his head. It had been weeks-no, months-since Takeshi had disappeared. Some said he left on his own. Others murmured that he was dead.

Kenta wasn't sure which was worse.

But he did know one thing-the last thing Takeshi had said to him never stopped echoing in his mind.

It had been an unremarkable evening. The two of them sat outside a bar, neither particularly drinking, just watching the city breathe around them. Takeshi had his usual cigarette, eyes half-lidded, lost in thoughts he never shared.

Kenta had been the one talking. About debts. About choices. About things he should've done differently.

"I don't know," he had muttered. "Feels like I should've handled things better."

Takeshi exhaled smoke and didn't respond right away. He rarely did.

Then, after a long pause, he said, "Regret is just a debt to the past. Pay it, or move on."

Kenta had laughed. "That's what you say about everything. Debts, debts, debts. What if it's not that simple?"

Takeshi had tilted his head slightly, regarding him with that unreadable gaze. "It never is. But it doesn't change the fact that you only have two choices."

"Yeah?" Kenta had scoffed. "And what about you? What debts do you owe?"

For a moment, just a flicker, something passed through Takeshi's expression. A shadow. A hesitation.

Then he had smirked, flicking ash from his cigarette. "That's the thing, Kenta. Some debts can't be paid. Only carried."

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Kenta clenched his jaw as the memory replayed in his head.

He had brushed it off back then. Just another cryptic line from Takeshi. Another piece of wisdom wrapped in smoke and silence. Takeshi was always like that-never direct, never obvious. He never handed people answers on a silver platter. Instead, he let them stumble onto the truth themselves, as if that was the only way it would stick.

But now... now he understood.

Takeshi had never planned to stick around.

It wasn't about debts, not really. Not the money, not the favors, not even the obligations people tried to pin on him. The real weight-the thing Takeshi carried-was something far heavier. Something too large, too crushing.

And instead of seeking a way out, instead of cutting himself loose, he had simply kept walking. Kept moving forward, step by step, as if that was the only thing he knew how to do. Shouldering it alone.

Kenta exhaled sharply, his breath misting in the cold.

Wasn't that just like him?

Regret is just a debt to the past.

Pay it, or move on.

That's what Takeshi had said that night. The words had felt so simple at the time, almost dismissive. But standing here now, rain soaking into his clothes, Kenta finally grasped the full weight of them.

Takeshi had chosen neither. He had simply disappeared.

Kenta felt a bitter laugh rise in his throat, but it never fully formed. The bastard had known. Had seen it all. And yet, in true Takeshi fashion, he had never said it outright. No warnings, no goodbyes, no last-minute explanations.

He had just given him a choice-one last push, one last quiet piece of guidance.

But it wasn't just for Kenta, was it?

It was for everyone Takeshi had ever left behind.

The old shopkeeper whose son had owed more than he could pay. The waitress who never realized how many times Takeshi had kept drunks from bothering her. The debtors who resented him, the friends who misunderstood him, the people who walked away thinking he was just another collector, another shadow in the city.

And maybe Takeshi preferred it that way.

Maybe he wanted to be forgotten.

The thought made Kenta's chest tighten, something hot and sharp pressing against his ribs. Damn you, Takeshi.

The rain fell harder.

Somewhere in the distance, a car's headlights sliced through the mist, illuminating the street for just a moment before vanishing. The city moved on, just like it always did. People came and went, debts were paid and forgotten.

But this? This wasn't something Kenta could just let go of.