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Chapter 297: The Ones Who Loved You
🕑 Added 2025-04-19 12:12:21 +0000 UTCTL music Rec: 『 Sword Art Online Ending 1』Yume Sekai - Tomatsu Haruka,
[Guns Girl Z] 8th Anniversary Music「Towards The Other Side of Destiny,
Chiai Fujikawa / Kimi no Namae ( "The Rising of the Shield Hero" Ending Theme )
...
[After you passed away, Shouji Satou wept bitterly.]
[She realized then—every single person who had cared for her, who had loved her, was gone.]
[One by one, they had all left this world.]
[And she was the only one left behind.
[Drifting through this life like a ghost.
[Unable to hear your voices.
[Unable to speak with you again.]
[No hardship, no suffering had ever broken her before—but this time, she felt something she had never known before.
[A powerlessness.
[A vast field stretching endlessly ahead of her.
[You all stood on the other side—separated by a wall called death.
[Invisible, intangible, yet unbearably real.]
[No words. No connection.
[Only an overwhelming loneliness.]
[Being the last one left was a cruelty beyond measure.
[But an even crueler fate—was that she had every reason to endure it.]
[Because beyond you—there were still your daughters.
[And they still needed her.]
[So to you, she could only apologize.
[She couldn't join you as quickly as she would have liked.]
[After your passing, Satou and your daughters arranged a grand funeral for you.]
[All nine of your daughters took time from their lives to attend.]
"I'm so sorry for your loss."
Guests came and went, offering their condolences to the Shouji daughters dressed in mourning black.
It was probably one of their father's old friends—an elderly man who spoke endlessly about what kind of person Minami Shouji had been, how his passing was such a terrible loss.
The Shouji daughters didn't cry.
They simply maintained polite smiles, greeting each mourner with the respect their father had taught them.
But—
"Big Sis… I—I can't hold it in anymore."
Shouji Mirai turned to Shouji Yuna, her eyes red and watery.
She couldn't suppress the grief any longer.
Her tears were seconds away from falling.
"Idiot."
Yuna's voice was quiet but firm.
She met her younger sister's gaze, her tone unwavering.
"Have you already forgotten what Father told us?"
Her eyes remained resolute.
"No matter what happens, we must never show weakness in front of others."
Yes.
That was what their father had always told them.
If the day ever came when he passed away—
He didn't want them to grieve.
He didn't want them to break down.
Because on that day—
Their mother would still be here.
And she would need them to be strong.
"B-but… I can't stop it anymore..."
Mirai's voice trembled, her eyes brimming with tears.
"Y-you idiot! What are you crying for?!"
Yuna, who had kept her face composed all this time, finally wavered.
Her voice cracked.
Raw and strained.
"Damn it! Because you started crying—now I can't stop either!"
At last, Yuna couldn't hold back anymore.
Tears poured down her face.
Just as laughter could be contagious—
So could sorrow.
And hearing her sister sob made her grief impossible to suppress.
She cursed Mirai for being a fool, for being so weak.
But even as she scolded her, her own tears refused to stop.
And she wasn't the only one.
Beside her, their eldest sister, Shouji Miyuki, lowered her head.
Shouji Shio's hands trembled as she wiped at her face.
And when Shouji Nayuki and Shouji Haruto finally arrived—
None of them could hold it in anymore.
The sound of weeping filled the funeral hall.
It was only then—
Only when they let their walls crumble—
That they fully understood.
Their father was gone.
He was truly gone.
Never again would they see their father's mischievous smirk.
Never again would they hear his warm, refined voice.
The sobs could no longer be contained.
The funeral hall erupted into chaos.
Yet through it all, Shouji Satou, who had been silently watching from the side, did not move to comfort them.
Because—
That was their father.
Instead, she turned her soft pink eyes toward the framed photograph on the altar.
Dead.
Gone.
Their father had passed away.
And if she didn't even allow them the right to cry for him…
Then what kind of mother would she be?
"Minami-senpai."
She murmured the name she had called so many times before, gently running her fingers along the cold edge of the picture frame.
I miss you.
She closed her eyes.
[You were gone. Your daughters wept in chaos at your funeral.]
[They couldn't accept it. Their voices were hoarse from crying.]
[But after the tears dried, silence took hold.]
[The silent funeral stretched into the following day.]
[At dawn, with the help of the temple's head priest, your body was carefully placed in a cold wooden casket and buried beside your wives.]
[Your daughters refused cremation.]
[Perhaps they couldn't bear to see your body reduced to ashes, choosing instead to spend an enormous sum to have you buried whole beneath the earth.]
[Your wives had been given the same treatment.]
[The last time you visited the Shouji family cemetery, a tiny sapling had begun growing behind their graves.]
[The caretaker had planned to cut it down.]
[But you and Satou had stopped him.]
[Maybe—
[Just maybe—
[That tree was another form of your wives living on in this world.]
[After all, Ryo had once said—
"If I could be reincarnated, I'd want to be a tree. No worries about food, no stress. Just soaking up the sunlight, eating for free, growing strong."]
[And now, her wish had come true.]
[The once-small sapling had grown into a tall, lush tree.]
[Grass and flowers bloomed beneath its shade.]
[On the day you were buried, the sky was a brilliant blue.]
[The green of the grass reflected the blue of the sky.]
[A gentle wind rustled the leaves, whispering softly through the air…]
[After one final look at you, Satou averted her gaze and gave the order.]
[Your coffin was lowered into the earth.]
"Such a small coffin… Such a small grave…"
Shouji Muna, the daughter of Kita, spoke between sobs.
"Father always loved wide, open spaces."
At those words, the rest of the daughters' eyes blurred with fresh tears.
No one could find the strength to respond.
They could only watch—
As the man they had loved so dearly—
Was slowly laid to rest.
[After the funeral, the nine Shouji sisters moved in together for a long time.]
[In times like these, being alone only led to overthinking.]
[And more importantly, they wanted to take care of their mother.]
[In her later years, Satou was well cared for.]
[Anything she wanted, her daughters would go to any lengths to get for her, just to see her smile.]
[For that, she was endlessly grateful.]
[But she also remained steadfast in her resolve.]
[Since you were all gone…
[Then she would be the one to protect your daughters.]
[With that determination, even her aging body seemed to find a new strength.]
"This is really…"
Minami Shouji let out a slow breath as he stared at the simulation screen.
It was surreal.
He was only seventeen—eighteen at most.
And yet, he had just witnessed his own funeral.
Through the simulation's memories, it felt as if he had truly experienced everything firsthand.
It was unsettling.
He wasn't even dead yet.
Letting out a helpless sigh, he shook his head.
His chest felt heavy.
Satou really was a strong person.
Even after losing all of them, she still carried on.
Still held on to her beliefs.
Minami scrolled down.
He wanted to see the final outcome of this simulation.
[Yet, even as her decaying body burned with renewed life, all it did was grant Satou a few more years.]
[No one in this world can escape the erosion of time.]
[Her body began to weaken. Even when she went for checkups, the doctors found nothing wrong.]
[But Satou knew.
[She had finally reached the end of her limited time.]
[In the last stretch of her life, she remembered your shared dream—
[To go on one final journey together. To see the world one last time.]
[So she voiced her wish to your daughters—
[To travel once more before her candle burned out. To witness the landscapes and skies for all of you.]
[But her daughters shook their heads. They refused.]
[The doctors had warned them—
[At this stage, what she needed most was rest.]
[Her aging body could no longer endure the exhaustion of travel.]
[They loved her too much. Even one more second with her was worth more than the entire world.]
[Understanding their feelings, Satou sighed and never brought up travel again.]
[But every single day, without fail…]
[She held onto a single photograph.]
[A photo of all of you—standing together under a nameless sunset, smiling.]
Yet her body only continued to decline.
She spent most days seated, motionless for hours.
Her strength faded more and more.
The family doctor gave your daughters a warning.
["Prepare yourselves. At most, she has a year or two left."]
At the news, your daughters fell into silence.
They had known this day would come.
They just… never thought it would be this soon.
After much discussion—
They made a decision.
They would grant Satou's final wish.
They would finish the journey you had all left incomplete.
They would fulfill the promise that had never been kept.
The old modified road trip van—once touched by your hands—
Your daughters wiped the dust off its frame.
After some repairs and inspections, they confirmed it was still in good condition.
Then—
They helped Satou into the passenger seat.
The van remained the same.
But the people inside it…
Were long since gone.
Tears streamed down Satou's face.
Supported by her daughters, she reached out to touch the old vehicle.
It looked so ordinary from the outside—almost ugly with its custom seating arrangements.
But it held so many memories.
She thought of the unfinished promise.
The unfinished journey.
The irreplaceable people she had loved.
Then, she sat down.
Settling into her old seat.
She eagerly arranged the seating plan, explaining it all with a bright voice.
She told your daughters—
"This was your father's spot. And here, this is where Chisato always sat. Ryo liked to lean against the window, and Hitori was always curled up in the corner…"
One by one, the daughters took their seats exactly as she instructed.
Satou's lips curled into a soft smile.
The ones she had loved were long gone.
But their places had been filled by the next generation.
This was the meaning of life's continuation.
With a deep, familiar rumble, the van started up.
The world outside the window began to move.
And inside the car, like a child, Satou laughed.
Her daughters worried.
They told her not to overexert herself.
Even the smallest emotional shock could put her frail body in danger.
But she didn't care.
The wind carried the scent of earth and sea.
Her pale silver hair danced wildly, fluttering like a girl's skirt in midsummer.
And so, their journey began.
First stop—
The northernmost tip of Japan: Cape Sōya.
Satou gave directions from memory.
And as they followed them, the landscapes outside began to overlap with the ones in her mind.
She smiled.
And as they drove, she told stories—
Tales she had once heard from you.
She spoke of how you had been captivated the first time you arrived here.
When they finally reached their destination—
Satou stepped out of the van.
Slowly, she placed her hand on the "Northernmost Point in Japan" monument.
She lifted her gaze.
The horizon stretched before her, blending the soft orange of sunset with the pale blue of sky.
A boundary so thin, it seemed to connect to another world.
Her breath slowed.
She wanted to feel this moment.
She wanted to engrave it into her soul.
Your daughters said nothing.
They simply opened an old photo album.
One by one, they flipped through its pages.
Photos of you—standing in the exact same spot—smiling beside her.
They tilted their heads back—
Trying to burn this scenery into their memories, too.
They stayed in Cape Sōya longer than expected.
Satou's body was already struggling from the long trip.
She needed rest before they could continue.
The next destination—
Okinawa.
Because of Satou's condition, they made alternate arrangements.
The van was sent ahead by cargo ship.
And the daughters—
They boarded a small private yacht.
At the helm, holding the wheel steady was none other than Shouji Yuna.
[Doing their best not to overburden Satou, they finally arrived at the islands of Okinawa.]
[The deep blue of the sea met the shadowed darkness of the islands.]
[Driving down a seemingly endless straight road, stretching toward the heavens, everyone felt a strange sense of peace.]
[They stayed for several days, until the night of the summer fireworks festival. Supporting Satou, they brought her to a nearby viewing platform, where she gazed upward.]
[With a sharp whoosh, the first firework shot into the night sky. Its blazing tail left a faint, fiery trail—one that quickly dimmed, as if about to disappear.]
[But it did not vanish.]
[Instead, the fireball swelled with light—until, at last, it burst.]
[Orange petals of fire scattered in all directions, blooming in the dark.]
[Satou did not speak. She simply watched—quietly, calmly—her gaze fixed on the brilliant 'flowers' above.]
[Through the hazy smoke of the festival air, her daughters saw something.]
[In that moment, she looked just as she had in her youth—standing beside all of you, watching fireworks under the same sky.]
[But the journey could not last forever.]
[After Okinawa, Satou's condition plummeted.]
[Perhaps it was the strain of travel. The constant movement. The exhaustion of fulfilling an unfinished dream.]
[Her frail body had finally reached its limit.]
[The daughters erupted into argument.]
[Some insisted that they never should have taken her on this journey in the first place.]
[Others countered that letting her wither away in a hospital bed would have been even crueler.]
[The fight escalated—until a faint, dreamlike murmur interrupted them.]
[Satou's lips moved slightly.
[Perhaps she was whispering, "Don't fight."
[Perhaps she was saying, "This is my fault."]
[At the sight of their mother—so fragile, so weak—they fell silent.]
[Blaming each other would not change anything.
[They all knew that.]
[And they all knew—more than anything—that this journey was Satou's will.]
[So they waited.
[Until she was strong enough to move again.]
[This time, however, things would be different.]
[The doctors demanded they bring along medical supplies—IV drips, medication, emergency equipment.]
[Her flame was fading. Now, it could only be sustained by medicine.]
[Their next stop was already decided.]
[The same place where their father and mothers had once traveled—
[Agatsuma Gorge.]
[A name filled with romance.]
[They came here to wait.]
[To witness the moment when the autumn frost would paint the forest in red.]
[To see the trees burn with color.]
[To harvest the mountain vegetables, fresh and crisp, and prepare them for Satou.]
[But in the end... they had arrived too soon.]
[Because of Satou's condition, they had planned ahead—arriving early to ensure she could rest.]
[And so, the trees were still green.]
[The mountains were still lush.]
[Autumn had not yet fully arrived.]
[Their hearts filled with frustration.]
[They did not want to see this green.]
[They wanted to see the mountains burning.]
[They wanted to stand beneath a forest of falling red leaves.]
[In their hearts, they prayed.]
[Calling out—begging for someone, something, to hear them.]
[Begging for their mother's final wish to be granted.]
[As the days passed, Satou slept more and more.]
[Her waking hours became fleeting moments.]
[Shouji Mei—the daughter who had never believed in gods—went to the nearest shrine to pray.
[Shouji Yuna—the laziest of them all—crafted an entire row of teru teru bozu, hoping for a miracle.]
[And still, they did more.
[Shouji Miyuki, Shouji Muna, and Shouji Misora kept constant vigil,
[Their hands clasped in prayer, whispering to their mother's sleeping form.]
[Perhaps, in the end, their voices were heard.]
[Or perhaps—
[Somewhere in this world, there truly was a god.]
[That very night—
[An unknown autumn wind swept through the land.]
[And by morning—
[The entire mountain had turned to fire.]
[A vast expanse of crimson.]
[The world had answered.]
[Excitement filled their voices as they rushed to Satou's side.]
[Helping her into her wheelchair, guiding her into the heart of the gorge.]
[A sea of red leaves swirled in the air, falling gently onto her silver hair.]
[Shouji Shio instinctively reached out—intending to brush the leaves away.
[But Satou weakly raised a hand, stopping her.]
"Minami-senpai once told me…"
"We look most beautiful with autumn leaves in our hair."
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
And yet—
It silenced them all.
Because they knew—
She hadn't even been conscious of what she was saying.
It had simply left her lips… naturally.
As if she were speaking to someone else.
Her gaze drifted far away.
Not just at the red leaves before her.
But at something—
Something only she could see.
Her daughters held their breath.
They refused to make a sound.
They did not wish to disturb her.
Not even the slightest whisper.
Satou's condition was getting worse.
By the time they left Azuma Gorge, her consciousness had already begun to fade.
She spent far more time lying down than sitting up.
And when she lay down, murmurs would unconsciously escape from her lips.
Some of those murmurs carried meaning, while others did not.
At times, she no longer responded to voices from the outside world.
Her daughters knew—she didn't have much time left.
The beast known as time was devouring her, moment by moment.
The medicine dripped into her body through the thin IV tube, barely keeping the tiny spark of her life flickering.
Without hesitation, they drove to the final destination of their journey—Mount Fuji.
It was a long road.
After over ten hours of continuous travel, they finally arrived at the foot of the mountain.
They submitted their climbing application at the designated checkpoint, then turned to look up.
It wasn't the same as it had been thirty years ago.
Back then, there had been no official mountain trail, but now, a road had been paved for vehicles to ascend.
However, the road only extended up to the Third Station of Mount Fuji (the mountain was divided into ten stations in total). Beyond that point, they would have to climb on foot.
The highest point tourists were allowed to reach was the Sixth Station—the very place where their parents had once stood.
There was no hesitation.
Her daughters changed her into fresh clothes and took turns carrying Satou on their backs as they made their way up the trail.
What should have been a three-hour climb stretched into six, as they switched places again and again.
Sweat clung to them, thick and sticky.
More than once, they nearly collapsed from exhaustion.
Their bodies, already drained from the long drive, grew heavier with every step.
And then, in that moment—
A faint, tender whisper reached their ears.
"…Are you tired?"
They froze.
Immediately, they turned to look behind them—only to find their mother's lips still murmuring incoherent syllables.
Are you tired?
The answer to that was simple.
"Of course not, Mom."
Misora, daughter of Nijika, glanced sideways at her mother's face, her lips curling into a smile.
"How could we be tired...? Just a little longer, okay? We're almost there..."
Keep going.
Keep going.
The endless steps stretched upward, as if connecting to the sky itself.
But at this moment, no one spoke.
They simply pressed on, almost reverently, determined to complete this journey.
This journey that, for their mother... had been far too long.
Just like a person's life—
No matter how long the climb, it always has an end.
From the Third Station, they ascended—until they finally reached the Sixth Station.
They stood where their mother and father had once stood.
Unfolding a soft, portable chair, they gently helped Satou sit down.
Softly, they spoke to her—their mother, who had long stopped responding to the world around her.
"Mama... we've reached the Sixth Station."
Shio crouched beside her, lowering her voice to her ear.
"Look, it's Mount Fuji's Sixth Station... the place you wanted to see the most..."
The mountains stretched endlessly.
From here, they could see the town below.
They could see the sky, where sunlight and shadow intertwined.
Shio carefully held her mother's frail hand, afraid that even the slightest force would shatter it.
She gazed at her mother's closed eyes.
Then, her voice trembled—almost pleading.
"Mom... please, open your eyes. Just for a moment. This is the view you and Dad, and everyone, always wanted to see..."
Maybe it was something in her words.
Maybe it was the unspoken desperation in their voices.
For the first time in so long—
Satou, who had barely been aware of the world, slowly opened her clouded eyes.
Her gaze lifted, sluggish and heavy, as if the simple act of opening her eyelids had drained all her strength.
She looked at the view before her.
At her daughters, gathered around her, their eyes filled with nothing but love and concern.
For the first time in a long time, her still face seemed to soften—just a little, as if a hint of a smile had surfaced.
Her trembling hand rose slightly.
As if searching for something.
As if trying to grasp onto something she knew was slipping away.
Misora immediately understood. Without hesitation, she handed over a photograph.
It was a picture of Minami and Satou—just the two of them.
The crimson sunset burned quietly in the background.
Satou's clouded eyes lingered on the photograph.
Then, ever so slightly, she shook her head.
Misora blinked in surprise.
Her mother's hand lifted again, searching for something unseen.
And in that small, fragile movement—
A photograph slipped from where it had been tucked against her chest.
It was not a picture of just Minami and Satou.
It was a family portrait.
Minami. Satou. Hitori. All of his wives. And their daughters—together as a family.
In that photo, Minami was still young.
His black hair was neat and elegant, and a teasing grin played on his lips.
Hitori had not yet aged.
She looked a little shy, offering a reserved smile to the camera.
Ryo, Nijika, and Kita still carried their youthful looks.
They held their daughters close, their expressions warm and tender.
Akane, Rio, and Satou stood behind them, each cradling a peacefully sleeping infant in their arms.
Chisato and Takina leaned against each other, whispering secrets only they could hear.
At their feet, Haruto and Nayuki were—unsurprisingly—bickering, baring their teeth at each other.
…
Her life was not just about you.
Her life was also filled with her daughters.
When Misora placed the photograph in her mother's hand, she watched as those frail fingers unconsciously traced the surface.
Tears welled up, slow and quiet.
She had reached the end of her life.
The end of her journey.
When they returned home from Mount Fuji, Satou passed away—surrounded by her daughters.
As they sorted through the belongings she left behind, they discovered something tucked away in her pocket.
Photographs.
Of each and every one of them.
That was the kind of person she was.
Her daughters laughed softly at this childlike gesture, running their fingers over the pictures—
And in that moment, they thought of them.
That year, the second generation of the band released a song titled "Journey's End."
That year, Haruto and Shio co-wrote a novel titled "His, Hers, and Their Last Journey."
That year, Mirai gathered the necessary funds and directed a film titled "Love's Journey."
That year… they did many, many things.
All to remember the ones they loved.
