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For two years, Wakaba's grave rarely saw visitors.
There had been a funeral - a small gathering of those in her family who came to show face, to pretend Wakaba hadn't been the black sheep of the family, ousted for her sharp mind and sharper tongue, not to mention her unintended motherhood. Sojiro had been there too, as well as Futaba - they were the only attendees who shed tears at her gravestone, who avoided looking at it not out of shame, but because their hearts could not yet bear the sorrow that gazing upon it wrought.
After that, there was silence. A long period of loneliness passed with no flowers laid at the foot of her tomb, no incense lit, no words spoken. Sometimes a kind stranger would take notice of her headstone and leave a parting flower; the cemetery staff made sure her resting place remained presentable, too. But it remained that no one came to visit her, not for two long years of rest.
Two years and a season passed before this changed. In the midst of autumn, when the leaves of the cherry trees drifted onto her grave, three sets of footsteps met her where she rested. One belonged to her darling daughter, to the shaky smile of Futaba, whose presence made the cemetery feel like a place of life, not death. By her side, steadfast and a touch sheepish, stood Sojiro. And with them, a few feet behind, hovering on the frayed edges of the group, stood a boy Wakaba never had the chance to meet.
The boy stayed silent throughout their visit. His attention, however, did not waver - he listened intently to Futaba's words, how she regaled her mother of her growth in the past few months, how she became sombre as she recalled her grief-born isolation. He did not look away from her pain, nor did his eyes hold pity for her - they were attentive, holding a hint of sadness but more so resolve. When Futaba's worries crept back in, when she hesitated in her words, when her eyes met his, asking silently for support, he gave her a small but warm smile, a nod of encouragement. There were no falsehoods in the gesture - only trust.
When the teens separated from the group, with the intent of exploring the cemetery, Sojiro remained.
"It's been a while," Sojiro said once the teens were out of earshot. "Sorry it took so long."
There was, of course, no answer. But the man's pause was not in wait for one - it was more a gathering of thoughts, a moment of reflection.
"I'm sorry I didn't take you seriously, back then." Sojiro's gaze fell to the ground, conscious of his past actions. "And I'm sorry I couldn't help Futaba sooner. I'm sorry she had to suffer for so long on her own."
He glanced over toward where the teens stood, close to the stairs leading further into the cemetery. Futaba seemed to be talking enthusiastically to the boy, though her words were carried away by the wind before they could reach the grave. Regardless, the grin on her face was by no means diminished by distance - it made all who gazed at her smile, just to see her happy.
Sojiro turned his own fond smile back to the grave. "You know, the other day, Futaba called me 'dad'. I never would have thought I'd like being called that, but... it means a lot, hearing her say that. We’re an odd bunch to be sure – not just Futaba and I, but Ren too.”
The boy - Ren - motioned toward the stairs with his head, and he and Futaba began to climb them, heading further away from the grave.
Once they were out of sight, Sojiro lowered his voice to a murmur. "He's been good for her - Ren, that is. I took him in on a whim, but he and his friends are the reason Futaba is here today. He's helped me out more than I would have expected, too."
A moment's silence. Sojiro seemed to be mulling over something, rolling his words over his tongue in contemplation.
“You would have loved him, too. He's a true part of the family, now. I think he deserves that title far more than I do."
Sojiro did not speak much more before the teens returned, calling him back to join them in leaving the cemetery. Their warm presence lingered there, even long after they left.
The seasons passed swiftly and brought with them more visits to the grave. Whilst they weren't an everyday affair, even a monthly visit was more than the previous years had offered.
Futaba was the most frequent visitor, though at first she only came accompanied by either Sojiro or Ren. She would kneel by the grave and tell Wakaba about what she'd been doing, how many promises on her new promise lists she had managed to complete. Though an occasional melancholy would pass over her features, she mostly stayed smiling.
As the blossoms graced the trees and the chill began to thaw, Futaba approached the grave with a skip in her step and her arm linked with Ren's. The couple must have garnered some judging glances, considering the enthusiasm with which they walked, but Futaba had always been one to walk to her own beat; if Ren was pulled into her rhythm too, he didn't seem at all displeased by it.
The couple sat down by the grave, Ren kneeling as Futaba crouched.
"Hi mom!" Futaba said cheerfully. "I brought Ren with me today!"
She glanced over to him expectantly.
"Hi, Wakaba-san," he said, looking a little awkward in his greeting. He bore a certain resemblance to Sojiro, not in appearance but in mannerisms - the way he scratched the back of his neck in self-consciousness, how his greeting was marked by slight hesitations.
Futaba, satisfied with his greeting, addressed her mother once more. "Since he's going back home soon, we decided he should come say bye to you before he goes."
A little bit of her cheer fell away at her own words, doubtless caused by the reminder that she'd be spending the foreseeable future without Ren within a reasonable distance to meet in-person. Ren's own expression did not reveal much of his own feelings; he merely remained still, listening to Futaba's words to her mother.
"We're planning a road trip in the summer," she said, perking up again. "We're going all over Japan! Makoto's getting her licence soon, so we can go wherever we want."
The next short while consisted of Futaba excitedly telling her mother about their road trip plans whilst Ren listened, a content smile across his lips as he gazed toward her. Sometimes during her stories, Futaba would turn to him for his input, and Ren would give a brief response, but he by far seemed to prefer a listening role.
"I wish summer vacation was longer," Futaba said once she finished talking about their plans. "We could go to so many other places that way."
"We've got a lot of time ahead of us," Ren said. "The world isn't going anywhere. We can take our time exploring it."
"I guess," Futaba said, though her smile fell as she fiddled with the laces of her boots. "It's just - I spent so long shut inside my room that I feel like I missed out on a ton of stuff. Thinking about going out to explore the world is so exciting, I just want to go right away."
Ren nodded; his expression indicated he knew exactly the feeling she was talking about. The boy had spent enough time chained by his probation that he could sympathise.
"Not only that," Futaba said, glancing over to Ren, "but you'll only be here until the end of summer too, then you have to go back home again. Everyone else is gonna be super busy this year too, and then next year all of you will be busy with university and jobs, and I'll still be stuck in high school."
"Hey, we'll still be here," Ren said. "We've got the group chat, right? And even if I'm back home, everyone else is close enough that you all can meet up whenever you want."
"Well, yeah, but..." Futaba lifted her hands back into her lap, knitting them together. "It's not the same."
To be fair, nothing is the same for them. Going from a year of supernatural powers and gods straight back into an ordinary high school life without feeling even a hint of longing to go back is an impossible task. Sure, they have the memories, but knowing they'll never experience it again is still a rough fate.
"I know it's selfish to say this, but I wish you didn't have to go back home," Futaba mumbled, her words barely audible. "I wish you could stay with me forever."
For a long moment, Ren stayed quiet, his eyes watching her with a curious amusement.
"Futaba," he said softly, "is this a proposal?"
Immediately, Futaba jumped, her previous solemnity overtaken by a full-faced flush. "H-h-huh?! That's not- I mean-"
As Futaba continued to stutter, Ren let out a soft laugh, his eyes sparkling with mirth.
"I'm joking," he said, allowing her a moment to calm down. Once she could breathe again, he continued. "Even if we have to be apart for a little while, we'll see each other again. And when we do, we can catch each other up on all the new discoveries we've made."
Futaba considered his words for a moment, the processing visible in her expression. Much like a computer finishing a task, she brightened up once his words clicked for her.
"I like that way of thinking," she said. "A whole bunch of new discoveries that we can share later on... You'd better be thinking of some as well!"
"Of course," Ren said, holding up his pinky finger toward her. "It's a promise."
Grinning now, Futaba interlinked her pinky with his. "Yeah!"
As they left the graveyard, though, Ren hung back for a moment, his eyes drifting back to the grave. "Forever, huh... I like the sound of that."
His face, normally so unreadable thanks to his glasses and hair, bore an expression of such fondness that the breeze seemed to pause in the wake of it. That breeze did not return until long after Futaba and Ren left the cemetery, hand in hand.
One day, in the limbo between spring and summer, Futaba visited alone. She crouched by her mother's grave as usual, lit the incense, and spoke a quiet greeting. Her usual smile was missing. The green leaves of the trees seemed duller for it.
"So, um..." Futaba said after a few minutes, collecting her words. "I remembered something the other day. About that time when you got sick and had to take the day off work. I was so worried, I ran home from school so I could get home sooner. But then I was exhausted because I ran too hard, and you ended up worrying about me, even though you were feeling way worse."
A few moments of silence passed as she recalled the memory, her hands idly fiddling with the laces of her boots as she did.
"Ren moved back to his hometown," she said. "It's a lot harder to tell when something is bothering him over text, but he seems really frustrated. Whenever he feels like that, I get that feeling again - like I want to run all the way to his hometown to be with him. Even if there's nothing I can do to help him, I just want him to feel a little less lonely. I think all of us do."
She glanced up at the grave again, a small, shy smile crossing her lips.
"I can't wait for him to come back. I'm managing okay on my own, and everyone else is helping me out a lot, but it's not the same without him. I..." She paused, then quietly admitted, "I love him, mom. So, so much."
Her cheeks grew pink at her quiet confession, but there was no one nearby to judge her for it - only the wind acknowledged her word, a soft breeze brushing her hair out of her face.
“I wish you could have met him properly,” she said. “I wish we could all have spent more time together - you and me and Ren and Sojiro and Mona. But I also know I can’t change what happened - it’s already in the past. Trying to bring you back now would just be running back to a reality I could never live in, not without feeling super guilty.”
Futaba quietened, her eyes growing dark as she recalled past events. There was a fire present in her eyes that had only been lit a year before, but which brightened the cemetery as much as her smile.
“Me and Ren and everyone else - we’re all moving on to a better future. I still want to learn more about cognitive psience, too - about everything you knew, and about how I can add my own knowledge to make the world even better. I want to carry you with me through it. I hope that’s okay with you.”
The wind ruffled her hair again, and she softened into a small laugh. She leaned forward to touch the cool surface of the headstone, her finger tracing the words there.
"I'll work hard, so keep watching over me, okay?" Her eyes grew somewhat misty. "I love you, mom."
There was no reply, but that was okay - Futaba's watery smile was evidence enough that she could feel her mother's affection, even years on from her death. There was no way she would let herself forget it ever again.
In the years that passed, the grave remained well-kept. It wasn’t tended to only by those with an obligation anymore, though - Futaba and Sojiro both made a point of visiting often to clean it. Once, the Sakuras arrived with Ren in tow on the anniversary of Wakaba’s death, only to find the grave already tidy. None of them could fathom who might have done it, and they put it down to the cemetery staff. None of them thought to suspect Wakaba’s brother, who still cared enough to mourn for her, despite his previously distorted view of her.
Futaba made a point of telling her mother about every important detail of her life, and some of the less important ones too. Her first job acceptance, her first apartment, even her first time making the famous Leblanc curry herself - each memory was brought to Wakaba’s resting place, kept alive in being shared with the dead. Sojiro visited when he could as well, much more once he started reluctantly handing management of the cafe over to Ren, whose skills in customer service and business management only improved over time. Though Sojiro’s visits were much quieter than Futaba’s, his words held no less compassion for the woman he spoke them to. He always brought with him a thermos of his Leblanc coffee, leaving a cup out for Wakaba as he sipped at his own, reminiscing.
Ren was the only one to rarely visit alone. Each time he stepped foot into the cemetery, he was accompanied by Futaba or Sojiro or both, more often the former, and he barely spoke any words toward the grave or the woman buried there. Even after years of dating Futaba, even after moving in with her and taking over what was essentially the family business, Ren still acted as though he was on the edges of the family, a touch out of place in memorializing Wakaba. His not having known her personally was almost certainly to thank for his awkwardness around her grave.
But one day, a decade past his beginning a relationship with Futaba, Ren visited the cemetery alone.
Kneeling by the grave, Ren was silent for a few long moments, his hands awkwardly resting on his thighs as he looked at the grave.
Eventually, he spoke. “Um, hi. It’s just me today. I hope that’s alright with you.”
The grave, of course, could not answer him. He still paused, as though an answer might come. When it didn’t, he continued.
“Maybe it’s a little strange of me to come here by myself,” he said, more to himself than anything. “Even so, there’s something I need to speak to you about, alone.”
His hands curled into fists on his lap, and he gazed down toward them.
“Futaba has come such a long way since I first met her,” he said. “Back then, she was so distraught by your death that she couldn’t bear to see the outside world. Now we’ve travelled so far, explored so much together. Every minute of it has been like a dream. When I wake up, I sometimes feel like it can’t be real. There’s no way that the events of our teenage years could possibly have led to this. It’s too good to be true.”
Ren bit his lip, mulling over his next words.
“Of course, it’s not always paradise - we both have bad days. Sometimes she finds it hard to get out of bed, and sometimes I feel like I can’t speak a single word without my throat closing up. But Futaba is so strong. She helps me get through my bad days, and I like to think I help her through hers as well.”
He gave a small huff of laughter, smiling despite himself.
“She brings so much light to my life. Without her, everything would be completely different. And… I don’t care to see that reality.”
Steeling his resolve, Ren looked up at Wakaba’s grave once more. His eyes held a strength that had simmered within his soul for years, brimming with the energy to achieve any possibility.
“I love Futaba with all my heart. I never want to lose my right to be by her side, and I always want her to have that right too, for as long as she wants it. So…”
Bracing his hands on his thighs, Ren bowed his head deeply.
“I’m asking for your blessing for our relationship.”
He held the pose for a few moments, silent as the wind gently tousled his hair. He was still bowing when he spoke again, though his posture relaxed a touch.
“I’m going to propose to her,” he said softly. “I know you can’t answer me, but I couldn’t do it without at least praying for your support. She is your daughter, after all.”
The wind curled around his cheek, coaxing his face upward until he looked at Wakaba's grave once more. Moving so he sat properly, Ren hesitated before speaking.
"I've already asked Sojiro for his blessing. He was hesitant at first, but I think he needed time to get used to the idea of Futaba getting married." Ren let out a soft laugh. "You know, on the day we first visited you together, he was wondering whether Futaba would ever walk down the church aisle like that. I bet he never imagined I would be the one meeting her there."
He fell silent, his smile softening as he recalled the memory. In the years that had passed, the walls that were once impenetrable, hiding all of Ren’s expressions, had been broken down one by one by the love of those around him. It was because of that fact that he could sit by Wakaba’s grave with such a fond expression, growing comfortable in the presence of something which once made him feel so out of place.
When Ren looked up to the sky, the breeze met him gently, running through his hair as though comforting him. He smiled and closed his eyes, and for the first time seemed wholly at peace here.
‘Don’t worry,’ the wind seemed to say. ‘You’ve been a part of this family for a long time now.’
And Ren heard those words loud and clear.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
It’s the least he could say to someone so dear to the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
(Days later, he returned to the graveside with Futaba, both bearing matching grins and rings which glistened in the sunlight. The wind came down to greet them, then fell calm.
They were standing on their own two feet now. They didn’t need a breeze to push them on toward their futures - not when they were already forging a path together.)