English
Indonesia
Chinese (Simp)
Japanese
Korean
Spanish
Portuguese
French
German
ArabicHonkai Star Rail: My Death Feeds Their Madness — Chapter 25
Chapter 25: The Youth That Can’t Be Found Again
As his fading consciousness sank into the Remembrance—memories once filtered by his weary brain but now surfacing with startling clarity—Kagashi finally understood the source of that familiar, enveloping warmth.
It was his mother’s embrace from childhood.
There were no worries here, no lingering anxieties weighing down his soul; he could finally fall asleep in absolute peace. Kagashi relaxed completely, the tension bleeding from his muscles as his lips curled into a genuine smile for the first time in one hundred and fifty-seven years.
The Remembrance he had kept sealed away for over a century now surged back like a gentle, rising tide.
So that’s how it is… let it be.
“Pity only that you see not the joy and sorrow, sigh only that fate has placed us on different shores.”
His voice was a mere whisper, drifting into the cold night air.
“The northern wind swirls snow, blowing down the blossoms; the past flutters by, disturbing the heartstrings. Ten thousand words cannot tell it all; only the empty lingering of Remembrance remains.”
His breaths grew shallower, each word softer than the last.
“In the end, solitary plum blossoms fill the cold years; the youth of that time can never be found again…”
At the very moment Kagashi’s heavy eyelids were about to close forever, a single tear slid from the corner of his eye, falling to silently seep into the frozen earth below.
“Clarice… thank you for staying with me until the very end…”
It’s time for me to go.
Take care.
[Remaining Lifespan: 25 minutes 34 seconds → 0]
Clarice’s attention was still entirely captivated by the melancholic poem Kagashi had just recited. It took her a second to process his final words of gratitude, and another agonizing second to realize that the chest resting against her had stopped rising. He had stopped breathing in her arms.
Her limbs went numb. Trembling uncontrollably, she gently shifted Kagashi’s head, cradling it securely in her lap.
A clean, untroubled smile rested on his face. He looked like a child who had finally let down all his defenses and drifted into a sweet dreamland. He had passed away so peacefully, free from the torment that had plagued his long life.
Clarice’s vision blurred entirely. Large, heavy tears rolled down her cheeks, falling freely to splash against Kagashi’s cooling skin.
Her slender fingers gently traced the rigid lines of his profile. When she finally spoke, her voice was a choked, raspy whisper.
“…You almost became a liar again…”
You clearly said you knew exactly when you would die. You said you didn’t need to celebrate your birthday early.
And the result?
In the end, you still didn’t make it to one hundred and seventy-five.
Why… why wouldn’t you stay just a little longer, to feel a bit more of the warmth I tried to give you?
Clarice leaned down, her trembling shoulders caving inward as she pressed her forehead gently against Kagashi’s.
The night remained completely silent, indifferent to her shattering world.
After a long, agonizing stretch of time, Clarice’s lips moved slightly. She pressed a tender, lingering kiss against Kagashi’s cold lips. Her fingertips brushed softly over his closed eyelids as she slowly straightened her back.
Just then, the youthful illusion clinging to Kagashi’s features began to fade. The vibrant energy dissipated into the air, and his face gradually reverted to that of a white-haired, peaceful-looking elderly man.
The winter night was still unbearably long.
Clarice silently took off her heavy coat and draped it gently over Kagashi’s still form, tucking the edges around his shoulders. She then looked up at the vast, indifferent starry sky.
How she wished that not long ago, Mr. Kagashi had told her himself—that after death, he would turn into a star and watch over her from the heavens forever.
Lies can at least provide emotional solace, can’t they…
Clarice held Kagashi just like that, unmoving, until the first light of dawn broke over the horizon.
The morning sun finally dispelled the long, oppressive night, casting a warm golden glow over all things that had endured the bitter frost. The morning light fell upon the two figures sitting in front of the Bamboo House, yet neither of them could feel its warmth.
“Life is a circuitous maze; we have nothing but Remembrance.”
A figure with an obscured face materialized quietly from the morning mist, stopping just a few meters away.
Hearing the familiar philosophical words spoken in an unfamiliar female voice, Clarice slowly raised her head. Her eyes were dim and hollow, devoid of any surprise. She offered only silence.
She had known for a long time that she had been chosen. Being able to see the phantoms of past Remembrance before this moment was the absolute proof of her affinity.
“Do you want to remember him? To remember his life?” the entity asked, her voice echoing as if speaking from a great distance.
“What price will I pay?” Clarice asked in return, her tone flat and deadened.
“Until you are willing to reveal yourself, people will have no way of knowing you exist.”
“Just like how before people saw a black swan, they never knew swans could be more than just white?”
“Just like that.”
“I understand.” Clarice’s gaze drifted back down to the peaceful face resting in her lap.
“Are you willing to spend your entire life collecting Remembrance?” the entity continued. “Are you willing to give up your physical body for this, and accept the mutation of your very self?”
“If one day you no longer exist, what will you leave to the world?”
“My Remembrance. There lie the seeds of the past, and they will be reborn in the future,” Clarice answered without a shred of hesitation.
In an instant, a deep gaze traveled across the sea of stars, piercing through the veil of reality to land squarely upon her.
“Welcome to the Garden of Recollection, Miss Clarice.”
Some Remembrance is trivial and warm, while some is grand and vast. Some Remembrance is as docile as a house pet, and some is as uncontrollable as a starving wild beast.
But the very moment Clarice shed her mortal constraints and became a Memokeeper, her own chaotic Remembrance became quiet and peaceful. It was as if a raging, surging ocean had finally found its designated harbor.
“Call me Black Swan.”
Before the day of reunion arrives, people have always thought the past meant a final, absolute farewell. But swans are not only white, and saying goodbye might not necessarily be the end.
The member of the Garden of Recollection who had guided her simply nodded. Her figure then faded into the morning light, leaving as quietly as she had arrived.
The tenderness in Clarice’s—no, Black Swan’s—eyes, an emotion reserved exclusively for Kagashi, grew even deeper and darker now.
Countless shimmering fragments of Remembrance swirled around her ethereal form, eventually vanishing into her very being. They hadn’t disappeared; instead, they had been compressed into a seed, planted deep within her soul.
People always think they are facing the present and the future, yet no one realizes that everyone is actually walking backward toward the past.
“Mr. Kagashi, I can finally engrave you in my heart… for all eternity.”
Black Swan gathered Kagashi into her arms. Her feet left the ground as she floated effortlessly back toward the Bamboo House, determined to do one last thing for the man she loved.
Buried under the plum blossoms, returned to the dust.
This was his final, explicit wish.
The entrance to the folded spatial pocket inside the Bamboo House was still hidden from ordinary eyes, but as a Memokeeper, Black Swan could now perceive and enter it without the slightest hindrance.
Inside lay the place of eternal rest that Kagashi had carefully prepared for himself.
“Meow…”
Seeing the orange cat, Xiao Ju, a sharp flash of sorrow crossed Black Swan’s composed face.
“…You’re here too…”
She carefully laid Kagashi’s body down on the prepared surface. Xiao Ju immediately jumped up, pressing its small body against him and rubbing its furry head against his cold, unyielding cheek.
“Meow…”
The animal’s voice was trembling; it was grieving in its own way.
Black Swan took a deep, steadying breath and brought over Kagashi’s most cherished belongings: his pristine lab coat and his Ruan.
She carefully folded the white lab coat, placing it gently beside his resting hands, and laid the traditional wooden Ruan next to it.
Having finished arranging his final resting place, she stood back and gazed at that aged, serene face, losing herself in thought.
“I’m sorry, I cannot accept fate as calmly as you did…” she whispered, her voice laced with a dark, possessive sorrow. “I’m sorry I took your Remembrance, only to selfishly keep you locked away in my heart forever…”
She reached out, her ethereal fingers brushing the air just above his cheek.
“If you have a next life, and we can somehow meet again, I hope you can smile and say to me, ‘Long time no see’…”
After an unknown amount of time standing in the quiet dark, Black Swan’s finger hovered over the ignition mechanism. Finally, she pressed down gently.
The inner chamber opened, revealing the dark incinerator space within.
Watching Kagashi’s body being slowly carried inside on the automated tray, she closed her eyes.
The heavy hatch sealed shut. Deep within, intense flames ignited, completely engulfing Kagashi’s mortal remains, turning a century and a half of suffering into pure ash.
Sending off a loved one with one’s own hands is perhaps the most excruciating pain in the universe. But no matter how much it tore at her newly forged soul, she would see it through to the very end… because she already possessed everything that truly mattered about him.
For Mr. Kagashi, today was the solar term of Great Cold, his birthday, and now, the anniversary of his death.
A few hours later, Black Swan, holding a simple, unadorned urn, appeared before the ancient plum tree at the very top of the back mountain.
It was midday. The bright winter sun shone down upon the vibrant plum blossoms covering the mountain slopes; the scenery was stunning, like an illusion pulled from a dream.
“You originally… intended to pick plum blossoms today, didn’t you…”
In the end, he had missed the bloom.
After carefully burying Kagashi’s ashes beneath the roots of the ancient tree, Black Swan erected a smooth stone tablet over the disturbed earth.
After a long, heavy silence, she finally let out a sigh filled with complex, tangled emotions.
Her fingertip traced gracefully through the air, and elegant words carved themselves deep into the surface of the stone tablet.
[Tomb of Kagashi]
The mountain wind picked up, swirling down a shower of delicate plum blossom petals and sending them dancing toward the stone tablet.
A small orange figure darted out from the underbrush and crouched loyally at the base of the grave.
A Memokeeper and a cat bathed in the warm winter sun, keeping silent watch over the sleeping man.
For a long, long time…