Kiriha had planned to use that person's mother as a starting point from which to search for her first love. Assuming that the person she was looking for was a boy of roughly fifteen, and that his mom would have been at least fifteen years older than he, she'd been searching for a woman of at least thirty who'd perished in a car accident ten years ago. Although she'd managed to find several people who fit the description, in the end, they'd all been unrelated to her first love.
"When that proved fruitless, I tried so many other things, but they were all in vain as well. I began to doubt myself, to question whether or not that person truly existed. Perhaps I'd simply dreamed him up?"
Diligently Kiriha had sought, though to no avail. Frustrated and despairing, she began to doubt her own memories.
"But... But! A few days ago, I found this..."
As tears poured from her eyes, Kiriha pulled something from her bag.
"And finally, I finally understood why I'd never managed to find him... Why I'd never managed to find any record of his mother's accident..."
Held fast within her grip was a necklace made from animal teeth and gems.
"...T-That's..."
As he saw what she held, Koutarou found he couldn't breathe. The necklace she held was none other than that keepsake he kept hidden within his closet. Both the necklace and the story she recounted testified to Koutarou that that which he had rejected as in impossibility was nothing less than the truth.
"No wonder I couldn't ever find him. Back then he was just a young boy of six..."
Kiriha's original assumption had been wrong. The mother of a boy of just six was likely in her twenties, and had thus been excluded from her search. She couldn't be blamed for such a mistake, though. On the records he'd been just six, and the person she was looking for had been sixteen - who on this Earth would ever have made such a connection?
"This is the keepsake I gave him at our parting."
If the boy had indeed been just six at the time, then only one individual met the new requirements. This was something she'd confirmed herself. Adding in the necklace, what was impossible now seemed probable, likely even. At this very moment, Kiriha sought that final confirmation, the truth of the matter that she had sought for so long.
"As thanks for this card which he gave me, I traded him this necklace in turn."
From within her bag, Kiriha pulled out a card.
Golden light flashed, but the reflective layer seemed to have faded somewhat; this card was old. The card displayed the visage of a superhero with a beetle motif, its surface marred by a characters scrawled in marker.
Koutarou had indeed seen this card before, and was only too familiar with the characters inscribed on its surface. The young girl of six from half a month earlier had owned just such a card.
"This necklace was a memento from my mother. I gave it to that person, praying that my mother would watch over him in my place, would keep him from crying tears of loneliness."
Kiriha sobbed. Kiriha, who had never once revealed her true feelings in public, now stood before him, weeping. Her expression was a combination of joy and sorrow, overwhelming emotion causing tears to flow without end. Her tears trailed down her cheeks, the watery reflection of the setting sun creating radiant streams down her face.
"For these ten long years, I've always been wondering... Was he happy? Was he ever lonely...?"
Kiriha seemed unable to control her rampaging emotions. Her body trembled, her knees shook, and she looked as if she might collapse at any moment. The slightest touch and she would likely tip over.
"So, answer me, Koutarou! The owner of this necklace... is he happy? Is he... lonely?"
This was the reason why Kiriha had sought him so desperately. The happiness of the one she sought was her paramount concern, her own feelings but an afterthought.
To this day, Kiriha still loved him deeply, but she didn't ask for his love in turn. After all, he had his own life. Perhaps he had a girlfriend, perhaps a wife. Kiriha had no desire to interrupt his life, as long as she could convey the feelings she'd held these ten years, that was enough.
No, what she wanted more than anything else was to know if he was happy, or if he felt alone. This was the prayer she'd entrusted to that necklace, the wish with which she'd filled the card. Until that answer came, she'd never be able to progress a single step, never be able to move and search for her own happiness.
"Hmm... Could you stand over there for me?