224 The Missing Piece is Found

"Huh? That's it? Just one line?" Mitsuha tilted her head in confusion.

"You've got some nerve saying that," Kyousuke shot back. "You're the one who told me to carefully document everything that happened during our body swaps, but you only ever wrote proper memos after eating something delicious."

He gave her a light rub on the head, half annoyed, half fond. At some point, she had quietly scooted over to him.

"No way! I'd never do something like that!" she huffed.

"Oh yeah? I've got proof!" Kyousuke flipped to the next photo.

There was Mitsuha well in his body, anyway, happily tagging along with Makki and the others, going out for Korean barbecue, hanging out at cafes, trying Italian food...

"But that's all you, isn't it?" she protested, trying to worm her way out.

———————————————————————

"The Korean barbecue was really something else. I wish we had a place like that in Itomori. I'd totally take Yotsuba and the others to try it."

"We ordered so much meat, it was so satisfying! But compared to the beef in our home fridge, the quality still didn't match up."

"The cold noodles were incredible—sweet and tangy, super refreshing. The soy-marinated soft-boiled egg was just a tad overcooked, though."

"The yolk wasn't as runny as it should be…"

"THE CHOCOLATE CAKE!!! Super rich flavor—I packed three slices to take home."

"Don't worry, don't worry, I saved one for you in the fridge. Matcha mousse, strawberry ice cream…"

———————————————————————

Kyousuke had even included pictures that matched every note.

'Ugh~~ Was that really me?'

Even though her pride screamed to deny it, the tone of the notes and the hazy flashes of memory surfacing in her mind left no doubt.

That was her writing. That was her.

Her small hand gripped Kyousuke's a little tighter without realizing it.

The images kept flicking past: the cherry blossom festival, the doujinshi fair, the kendo match…

Mitsuha in her school uniform, all alone in Tokyo, looking for Kyousuke—someone she hadn't even met yet.

"You really went through a lot back then…" Kyousuke murmured.

He had drawn everything he saw after drinking the kuchikamizake the sacred sake made with her essence. Each scene, carefully illustrated with painstaking detail.

Mitsuha gave a little shake of her head.

Even if the memories were fuzzy, even if time had dulled them, seeing herself sitting on that train station bench still made her heart overflow with joy.

"I think… I was happy back then," she whispered.

In Kyousuke's masterful sketches, the golden sunset bathed the girl in warm light.

Her brows were slightly furrowed from aching feet, a faint sorrow lingered in her soft brown eyes—so vivid, anyone looking would feel an ache in their heart.

Then, in the next image: her eyes lighting up when she spotted someone in the train.

Her gaze trembling with emotion. A radiant smile blooming on her face, like the midday sun.

That emotion, that fulfillment—it was beautiful. It was happiness, pure and simple.

Her voice drifted into Kyousuke's ears like falling petals.

But unlike petals that tickle or distract, Mitsuha's words stirred something deep within him.

He moved slightly, tempted to wrap his arms around her.

But he stopped himself.

This Mitsuha wasn't the one from the mountaintop the one who remembered everything. They would have to reconnect all over again.

But Mitsuha had sensed it.

She glanced at him and understood what he was thinking—because she felt the same.

She wanted to express her feelings, too.

Tilting her head, she shyly hugged his arm, pressing her cheek against him.

Fwoo~

In the quiet living room, they could both hear the other's exhale.

"This part… this was the hardest to watch. I just wanted to go back and make myself train a hundred more times," Kyousuke muttered.

The image showed Mitsuha sobbing helplessly in a family restaurant, her despair laid bare.

She rubbed her cheek against his arm again.

Just hearing his words, she could feel how deeply he cared for her.

Kyousuke had once considered turning all of this into an animation.

It might have made more of an impact, might've helped Mitsuha regain her memories faster.

But even though Eriri called him a printing machine, there was no way he could pull something that massive off in such a short time.

If Mitsuha had come a little later, he might've had time to polish everything more.

"But how did you even see those scenes where I was all alone?" Mitsuha asked.

"Like when I nearly got knocked over at the station or on the sidewalk, those weren't things I could've told you. The level of detail is way too accurate."

"Ah, that…" Kyousuke hesitated. He opened his mouth but then stopped.

Do you really want to know? his eyes seemed to ask.

"Hmm?" Mitsuha turned toward him, curiosity piqued.

The light from the screen illuminated Kyousuke's face—handsome, but now filled with hesitation.

"I drank your kuchikamizake," he finally said. "Your other half told me to."

"You WHAT?!"

The hands that had been hugging his arm flew up to cover her mouth.

Her face flushed crimson, her palms felt hot against her cheeks.

Her voice trembled.

"You… you actually drank that?! Why would you—?!"

"Because if I hadn't, I'd never have seen you again."

Kyousuke gently stroked her head, his voice tinged with lingering fear.

If not for that sacred sake, their final meeting would've remained just that—a goodbye neither of them wanted.

"Never seen me again…?" Mitsuha's breath hitched.

The words shook her more than the embarrassment ever could.

He gave a small nod.

Then, after a pause, he tapped his phone. The screen changed again.

A dark forest stretched into the distance, only lit by the approaching comet blazing across the sky.

Mitsuha stood alone on a small hill, wearing a blue yukata patterned with green Yotsuba leaves.

The vivid red sash stood out.

Her wide sleeves and the grass around her danced in the wind.

A comet. A beautiful girl in a yukata. A field swaying in the breeze…

It looked too perfect to be real.

But both of them knew—it had been real. It had happened.

"That's…"

Mitsuha stared at the screen, stunned.

That was the yukata her mother had made her.

She thought she'd missed her one chance to wear it at the festival.

She never expected to see it again—especially like this.

"Kyousuke… I love you," she murmured, without even thinking. "Even if we're reborn, I want to meet you all over again."

There was no hesitation, no embarrassment.

Along with the words came an overwhelming surge of love—love that had traveled through time and space, untouched by memory loss, etched into the deepest part of her soul.

Hearing her voice, Kyousuke instinctively pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

He had agonized over whether to show her that moment the moment from a rewritten past where she nearly died under the comet.

Was it too cruel to make her relive that?

In the end, he had drawn it. Because…

"You were so beautiful in that yukata," he said softly.

He remembered—one of Mitsuha's biggest regrets had been not being able to show him that look.

So he finally gave her the compliment she'd waited so long to hear.

"So that's what the evacuation drill was really about… It was you who came to find me, Kyousuke."

The comet's overwhelming presence radiated vividly from the painting, it was so realistic, she could still clearly remember how Itomori had been flipped upside down that night.

Without thinking, she tightened her grip around the boy's arm, hugging it close.

It was Kyousuke who crossed time and space to pull her back from the banks of the Sanzu River.

"I drank every last drop, you know~" he said casually, trying to lighten her tense mood.

"Huh?" Mitsuha blinked, not quite following.

"The kuchikamizake. It actually tasted better than I expected."

"Wha—?!"

In her mind's eye, an image flashed—of a white porcelain bottle tipped over on the ground.

That was from the shrine on Mount Ryuujin!

This idiot, couldn't he have just taken one sip if he had to drink it at all?!

Despite the flood of embarrassment in her heart, Mitsuha didn't let go of his arm.

Instead, she gave it a small shake, urging him to show the next image.

The clouds in the painting were thick and fluffy, like cotton candy or cauliflower, stretched across the sky in one endless sheet.

The fading sunlight bathed them in a soft golden glow. Below them, only Lake Itomori peeked through.

In the picture, on a high ledge at the edge of Mount Ryuujin's crater, Mitsuha sat cross-legged, staring quietly at the sea of clouds.

They both knew only one person would sit in such a carefree pose like that: Kyousuke.

"This is what I saw the third time I went up to Mount Ryuujin. I sat there, waiting to meet you."

"And what about me?"

"You were there too."

The clouds in the next image were just the same, but this time, Lake Itomori had turned into a gourd shape.

Now it was Kyousuke sitting on the ledge, hugging his knees. He looked just like a girl in that pose.

"Twilight, tasogare toki~" Mitsuha's clear voice took on a lilting tone, invoking the moment the two of them could meet again.

"Yeah. The time of ta-so-ka-re—'who is that?'"

Kyousuke tapped the screen, merging the two images.

Lake Itomori returned to its original round shape, but now, there were two figures on the ledge, facing each other in surprise.

"'Who is that?' Of course it's you, Kyousuke," Mitsuha said with a playful tone, unable to stop the happiness bubbling up inside her.

"And of course it's you, Mitsuha." He turned to her, his eyes gentle.

In the dim living room, the warm glow in her brown eyes reflected only him.

"Mitsuha… it's so good to see you again."

"Mm!" Mitsuha nodded eagerly—then suddenly, her eyes widened.

On the screen, the two had already kissed.

She admitted it: the moment she saw Kyousuke again, the first image that popped into her mind was of him slowly leaning in to kiss her.

But still—wasn't this too fast?! Past me, how could you be so bold?!

She could feel the heat in his gaze now, and her heart started to race—nervous, excited, completely flustered.

Even though her mind and even her taste buds remembered that they had already kissed, this was still her first time.

She'd never experienced it herself!

"Th-this… is this the braided cord I gave you three years ago?" she blurted out as her fumbling fingers brushed against the cord wrapped around his hand.

"Heh." Kyousuke chuckled softly and gently bumped his forehead against hers.

"Yeah. You made it, after all. It's like a lucky charm—it protected me, and kept us connected all this time."

Mitsuha felt a wave of guilt at the affection in his words. "I'm sorry, Kyousuke. I…"

"Don't apologize. You never did anything wrong." Kyousuke cut her off gently, understanding her conflicted emotions.

"If we could fall in love once, we can do it again."

"To fall for each other twice—completely, passionately who else in the world gets to experience something like that?"

"Hehe, you and your smooth lines," Mitsuha said with a laugh, despite herself.

As the slideshow continued, Kyousuke began showing his own side of the story.

"Ohhh, so you were the one who fixed Yotsuba's bike? I always wondered why I had no memory of it."

"And that fruit smoothie no matter how many recipes I tried, she kept saying it didn't taste as good as before. Drove me nuts…"

The images changed, accompanied by Kyousuke's notes and commentary.

The missing pieces in Mitsuha's memory began to fall into place, one by one. She clutched his arm even tighter.

"Yukino-sensei…"

Her voice dropped when she saw that familiar figure.

So many of his memories were filled with her.

And there was Sakura at the cherry blossom festival… Shouko, Naoka, Eriri at the doujin convention… Naoto from Love Metronome…

Oh no.

As she silently counted them off in her head, Mitsuha realized how much she had overlooked.

Whether it was because she had been distracted or subconsciously ignored it, all those scenes now came rushing back.

"Kyousuke… do you have a girlfriend?" she asked abruptly.

"No." Kyousuke replied without hesitation.

'Phew.'

Mitsuha secretly let out a breath of relief.

Going through these memories, she realized how many foolish things her past self had done.

She'd actually helped Kyousuke flirt with other girls and enjoyed it!

Are you baka, Mitsuha?! Who else in the world does something so dumb as handing the guy they like over to other girls?!

And those girls Sakura and the others what were they to him?

She wanted to ask, but seeing his handsome face suddenly take on that playful, roguish look, she gave up with a sigh.

Kyousuke had explained it to her before Yamauchi Sakura had been his childhood friend since he was nine.

Shouko and Naoka had also been with him since elementary school. Even Eriri and Naoto had spent more time with him than she had.

Besides, in her current messy state of incomplete memories, what right did she have to question his relationships?

"Oh, right—do you want to go check out the apartment where you used to live?" Kyousuke suggested, breaking the silence. "You might remember more if you see it."

He'd had the plan in mind from the start.

His OCD had made him resist moving his usual things over, he'd deliberately left them in place, hoping Mitsuha would come see them.

"The apartment, huh…"

Mitsuha was tempted but then her gaze landed on the clock in the bottom corner of the screen.

It was already six in the evening.

"Oh no, it's already this late?" she said, suddenly anxious.

She turned to glance at the front door, a guilty feeling rising in her chest.

Wouldn't Aunt Mikiko and the others be coming back soon? No—this was even worse.

They'd stayed out all this time just to give her and Kyousuke some space. How rude of her!

"Haha, don't worry," Kyousuke said casually, sensing her concern. "Unless I text them, my mom and the others won't come back."

Back when they lived in Mizunome, his mother had been the same.

If Sakura and the others came over, she'd conveniently disappear to chat with the neighborhood ladies—leaving the whole house to them.

"But… this is our first time meeting. Won't your mom get a bad impression of me?" Mitsuha asked nervously.

"This isn't your first time meeting her, you know. Back in Kushiro, you two got along pretty well, didn't you?"

Kyousuke still remembered clearly why he'd ended up eating that cutesy deer cake, it was all thanks to Mitsuha's mischievous smile.

"But that was..." Mitsuha began.

"Relax, really. It's fine. Besides, you must be hungry, right? I'll go make dinner," Kyousuke said, reluctantly pulling his arm from the comfortable warmth and giving Mitsuha a light pat on the head with a smile.

"Do you need help?" The ticklish sensation lingering on her skin made Mitsuha's cheeks flush.

She quickly tried to change the subject.

It wasn't that she doubted his cooking skills, he'd always been pretty decent in the kitchen, especially when it came to desserts.

After all, he'd honed those skills for his childhood friend, Yamauchi Sakura. Yotsuba still remembered those treats fondly.

Mitsuha sighed inwardly, then steeled herself with renewed determination.

Sure, he had a lot of female friends, but Kyousuke didn't have a girlfriend.

Not yet. And like he said, how many people in the world could say they'd fallen in love twice with the same person across time and space?

So what if we've only known each other for a short time?

Our feelings have transcended time, space—even death itself. They couldn't be any deeper!

"I'd love that. I've actually always wanted to cook with you, Mitsuha." Kyousuke grinned, visibly pleased.

There had always been someone in his kitchen, cooking like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And in her house, he'd been doing the same.

Back in Itomori, every time he tied on an apron and stood in front of the old gas stove, he couldn't help but wonder—had Mitsuha woken up yet in her Tokyo apartment?

Would she make her own breakfast today or grab something from the convenience store? If she was staying in, would she cook rice porridge or fry up some steak?

And if she went out, would it be cheese toast or a ham sandwich?

Thoughts like that made the knife in his hand feel lighter.

The halved tomatoes looked fresher somehow, their sweet and tangy scent lifting his mood for the entire day.

If only he could cook together with Mitsuha.

If only he could sit in the living room and watch apron tied an apron around her waist and making food just for him.

Every morning in the living room with his grandmother and Yotsuba, eating breakfast around the low table, he always found himself wondering, what would Mitsuha's cooking taste like?

And now, that once-distant dream was about to come true.

The metal blinds and giant curtains lifted, and though the sun had mostly set, the solar-powered garden lights flickered on.

Nothing too fancy—mostly ground lights, just enough to softly illuminate the plants and bring out their natural beauty.

That freshly transplanted maple tree, for example its delicate green leaves shimmered under the LED lights, almost as if glowing.

Every leaf vein was visible, vibrant. And come fall and winter, it would turn into a bonfire of color. A changing view for every season.

Even the pond had a gentle glow just enough to see the water's surface, not enough to disturb the fish sleeping below.

"So beautiful," Mitsuha whispered.

"That pine tree, doesn't it look a lot like the one outside the Miyamizu Shrine's sitting room?" Kyousuke asked with a smile, stepping up beside her.

It was a Japanese five-needle pine, carefully pruned so its crown leaned over the warehouse eaves like a natural archway.

"Oh! You're right!" she exclaimed.

Her focus had been on the radiant maple tree, but now she looked at the pine and lit up with joy.

She even slid open the glass door to get a closer look.

Back in Itomori, she'd hated everything but now, after all these years, she found herself nostalgic for that exact kind of beauty.

Especially that pine tree...

In her memory, her mother was always trimming it with a pair of gardening shears with brown handles—gentle, patient, precise.

Whenever Mitsuha got tired of reading, she'd wander over, curious. Her mother would pass her the shears, gently guiding her hand.

"Overgrown branches, tangled ones, or those damaged by insects they all have to go. That's how the tree stays healthy and beautiful."

"If you let it grow wild, not only will it lose its shape, but it won't grow as strong either."

That's what her mother had taught her.

Up close now, Mitsuha noticed new shoots growing where they shouldn't.

"Mind if I trim it a little?" she asked, pointing to the pine as she turned to Kyousuke.

"Go ahead," he replied with a grin though he had absolutely no idea how to prune trees.

She reached out, gently plucking off the fresh shoots and dropping them near the roots.

They'd turn into fertilizer soon enough.

"Too bad there aren't any shears—some of the branches could use a real trim." She clapped her hands clean and looked a bit disappointed.

"Heh, maybe next time. Time to cook now." For some reason, Kyousuke suddenly felt a chill down his spine.

That little shed under the tree canopy was full of tools. Not just gardening shears—there was even a chainsaw.

"Oh~ I almost forgot!"

Rubbing her stomach, Mitsuha realized how hungry she was after such a long day.

In the kitchen, Kyousuke took two aprons from the storage cabinet and walked over to help Mitsuha put one on.

"How about beef stir-fried rice?"

As he tied the apron, the soft scent of white plum blossom drifted off her and into his nose.

"Of course!"

The gentle warmth of his breath on her neck made Mitsuha's cheeks flush pink.

She knew exactly why he'd chosen this dish for dinner.

In every one of those shared memories even though they were fade, this was the meal they had cooked most often in that little apartment.

She couldn't remember all the details, but she imagined herself, night after night, sitting on that sunken spot in Kyousuke's sofa.

Watching mindless TV while happily stuffing her face with premium Shiratama wagyu beef sent by Aunt Mikiko.

But tonight was different.

Tonight, she wouldn't just be sitting alone while he cooked.

Tonight, they'd be side by side, cooking together and sitting together on that sofa, eating with joy.

In the spacious, semi-open kitchen, Kyousuke handled the beef while Mitsuha chopped colorful bell peppers and other vegetables. Just as she finished, the rice cooker chimed.

"Who's doing the next step?"

They both spoke at the same time—Kyousuke looking down, Mitsuha looking up, their eyes meeting.

Him in a black apron.

Her in pink.

Both wanting to share their homemade dish with the person in front of them.

"Then Together."

Their lips curved into smiles at the same time.

The kitchen was big enough to accommodate the wide spacing between the triple gas burners, and there was plenty of room for two pans side by side.

After preheating, they added in beautifully marbled slices of beef.

Once it began to brown slightly, in went the rainbow mix of vegetables.

Their synchronized steps led to a shared smile.

This kind of warmth is something only couples share was dangerously addictive.

They didn't eat at the kitchen table.

Instead, Kyousuke pulled out a low table and set it up on the living room rug.

Two plates of beef stir-fried rice were brought to the table.

Kyousuke poured a tall glass of iced cola into the cup he had gifted to Mitsuha, and he also brought out a fruit smoothie that had been prepared for his mom.

Finally, he turned on the TV.

Of course there was a TV—home theaters and televisions were two entirely different beasts.

A house without a TV was like a Japanese garden without a maple tree. Just wrong.

"Ah! That's the cup! I remember it from my memories! I searched so many stores trying to find one like it, but nothing felt right!"

Seeing the glass in Kyousuke's hands, Mitsuha cried out in delight.

"That's because I made it myself, one of a kind in the whole world!" Kyousukesaid proudly.

Seeing Mitsuha recall this despite all the memories she'd lost filled him with a deep sense of satisfaction.

After exchanging dishes, the two of them smiled at each other and said "Itadakimasu," then started to eat.

"This is so good!"

"Kyousuke, your cooking is this good? Has Yotsuba been eating meals like this for over two years?" She widened her eyes in disbelief.

No wonder her sister couldn't stop raving about it.

She'd assumed Kyousuke's skills were about on par with hers simple home-style dishes at best.

After all, their go-to late-night snacks had always been pretty basic. But this…

Without hesitation, she reached her chopsticks into Kyousuke's bowl and grabbed a bite of his stir-fried beef to taste.

Sure enough—even though they'd used the same ingredients, hers didn't even come close.

The beef was so fresh it felt like it had just been sliced moments ago.

It melted in her mouth, perfectly balanced with the fragrance of the vegetables.

"Haha, I wasn't nearly this good back then," Kyousuke chuckled.

' Has he finally reached the point where his cooking and gentle charm alone could win over a girl?'

"Ugh, now that I've tasted yours, mine tastes awful…" Mitsuha muttered, pouting a little.

She probably didn't even notice the hint of playful whining in her voice.

"No way!"

Kyousuke scooped a big bite of rice into his mouth and gave her a huge thumbs-up.

"This is exactly how I remember home tasting. You nailed it. And besides, this was made by you, Mitsuha—with love!"

"Hehe~" Beaming with happiness, Mitsuha lifted her bowl and began to eat just as enthusiastically, totally forgetting her ladylike manners.

Seeing her relaxed like this, Kyousuke's smile deepened even more.

"So, shall we go check out the apartment next? Or…"

After finishing their meal and leaving the dishwashing to the magic dishwasher—Kyousuke glanced over and asked.

"Let's leave the apartment for another day. It's already late."

She was tempted, of course, but knowing she'd already taken up his entire day, the time he could've spent with his family, she felt a little guilty.

They'd mentioned it earlier in conversation: the Hojou family ranch was currently being looked after by a neighbor, but Kyousuke's dad, Ichiro, was planning to return soon to check on things himself.

"True. Then let me walk you home. A walk will be nice."

Ever since Kyousuke learned Mitsuha had gotten into Ochanomizu University, he had a pretty good idea of where she lived.

He'd once caught a glimpse of Miyamizu Toshiki's Tokyo address, it was in a small neighborhood called Hinata-cho, just 500 meters from the campus.

"Walk? Really?" Mitsuha asked, a little disappointed.

She had been hoping to see that old rocket-speed commuter bike she used to ride.

"Well, you're wearing a skirt, aren't you?" Kyousukesaid, pointing at her very proper, very ladylike outfit.

"Oh… right, haha. I guess that is a problem." She laughed awkwardly but still looked a bit let down.

"But it's not like we can't fix that. Just give me a second." Noticing her expression, Kyousuke paused, then turned and headed toward the storage room.

His mom, Mikiko, had gone on a shopping spree recently—tons of new clothes, including brand-new sportswear, tags still on.

He could easily grab something for Mitsuha to wear.

"Huh?" When Mitsuha saw the gym clothes, still with the tag attached, she looked at Kyousuke in surprise.

"They're my mom's."

"Are you sure it's okay?"

"Relax. She doesn't even remember half of what she bought. I'll explain it to her later."

"But still…" Mitsuha hesitated, feeling it was a bit rude.

"C'mon, just go get changed already."

Kyousuke shoved the clothes into her arms and gently nudged her toward the stairs, pointing out a vacant room upstairs.