Chapter 55

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Kaede didn't really like black clothes. It was never a cheerful color for her anyway, even if there were people who loved it. But Kaede didn't think that Kazumi would find it nice to be dressed in pure black.

That was why Kaede hadn't dressed like the other people who were here. The Nishida had given her a very deadly look, but had said nothing more about it. The brown-haired girl would never forget how Kazumi's mother had gotten loud and kicked her out of the mourning room. Although, Kaede had left voluntarily in the end.

Not because of what was said, but rather because she couldn't take it anymore herself. On the one hand because the mood was really low, and on the other because she no longer wanted to see those hurt faces. Leaving had probably been the best decision in order to escape from everything herself.

But Kaede couldn't do it here and now. She didn't want to be chased away by anyone. She wanted Kazumi to see that her best friend was doing her best and was at least present in a more cheerful color.

A beautiful autumnal yellow adorned the soon-to-be high school student. The color resembled Kazumi's eyes but also her favorite color. It had been hard for Kaede to decide, since her death was also associated with fall.

Kaede wore a thin black coat over her dress so as not to get sick. After all, it was colder at this time of year, which was not very pleasant. Many of those present had even wrapped themselves in hats. Actually quite unnecessary, but everyone felt the temperature differently anyway.

No one from the middle school was invited. Kazumi's father had strictly forbidden it, otherwise his wife would end up in hospital again because of her nervous breakdown. This was actually more than understandable. The Nishida's always blamed the school for what had happened. After all, Kazumi had been bullied by many of her teammates, which had driven her to take her own life in the end.

Only Kaede would remain the guilty party, who hadn't stopped the gray-haired girl. She hadn't realized what she was actually up to. Kaede had still believed that Kazumi wanted to be alone on the roof. She just wanted to hurt her arm and then go to the tea store with her.

The only person Kaede had taken with her was Dai. He stood slightly behind her to make sure she wouldn't collapse. But that would never happen, because Kaede had eaten everything into herself anyway.

She didn't want her father and his partner with her. It would have been an overwhelming feeling. Admittedly, this was not her mother, but her best friend. Her father knew Kazumi, but they never had much to do. At least not enough for him to be here, Kaede thought. She would have chosen her mother or her grandmother if she had to.

Here in Japan, the mourning period lasted almost fifty days until the burial took place at the cemetery. It was customary for the deceased to be cremated and the ashes placed in a beautiful urn. And from then on, the mourning period began so that everyone could say goodbye in peace. The bereaved then had the time, after the so-called wake and the mourning room, to take the urn home with them until the burial took place at the cemetery.

Things they didn't like to know, but Kaede had informed himself as well as he could. With the ulterior motive of being able to write the aforementioned book, which might never be the case.

Her eyes turned to the stone of the grave, which would belong to Kazumi from today onwards. A beautiful white stone with gold-colored lettering had been chosen for her. On the stone, between the dates and her name, was a photo of her.

It was one that had been taken on her birthday, when she had covered up her blemishes for it. Kazumi was beautiful even with these blemishes. However, Kaede actually found her even more beautiful without them.

Her head bowed slightly. Why did it have to be those who already had a hard life? Why did people who had never done anything bad or bad at all always have to die in this world? And why did Kaede feel that it always affected her life?

Her life and the lives of many others were so unfair.

The Writer Osamu FFUnde poveștirile trăiesc. Descoperă acum