Chapter 79: Deep Blue Arc—Final Chapter (Part 2)

Chapter 79: Deep Blue Arc—Final Chapter (Part 2)

Deep Blue Metropolis, Shore District Harbor.

At dawn, a gentle sea breeze rolls across the surface of the ocean, carrying with it a uniquely salty mist as it blows toward the ferry terminal at the harbor.

A ten-thousand-ton giant liner docked at the shore fires up its roaring engines, thick black smoke billowing from its funnels, emphasizing the insignificance of the passengers below.

Tachibana stands at the boarding gate, one hand holding down her white lady’s hat that nearly gets swept away by the sea wind, the other holding four tickets that have already been checked.

“All right, everyone. It’s time to go back.”

At her words, Tendou adjusts the black sunglasses on his face, takes the ticket from her hand first, and walks into the boarding passage without the slightest hesitation.

His black trench coat traces a sharp arc in the sea wind blowing in from both sides of the passage.

At the edge of his sunglasses, the reflection of a distant landmark of Deep Blue Metropolis—the Pearl of Deep Blue—flickers faintly.

But unlike when he first arrived, when he had stopped to take it all in, now, as he prepares to leave, Tendou doesn’t even spare a glance behind him.

Because everything worth seeing, he has already seen.

Everything worth experiencing, he has already experienced.

At the same time, Caroline, only a step behind him, drags both her own suitcase and Tendou’s, quietly following at his side.

People like to dwell on the past because they fear the unknown future.

But Caroline is different.

She harbors no nostalgia for the past, nor any fear of the future.

Because she knows clearly that whether it is her past or her future, if Tendou is not part of them, then none of it has any meaning.

So she doesn’t need to think too much—she only needs to quietly follow behind Tendou. For only the places he has walked are her past, and only the places he looks toward are her future.

Deep Blue Metropolis is a good place, but it is not a place that belongs to her.

Because her world will forever revolve around a single person.

In the distance, watching Tendou and the others disappear deeper into the passenger passage, Chen Xing takes out the two tickets Tachibana handed her and pats Chen Kong on the shoulder beside her.

“Here. Remember to come aboard later—don’t miss the time.”

After stuffing one of the tickets into Chen Kong’s chest pocket, Chen Xing drags her luggage into the passenger passage without looking back.

Throughout the entire process, Chen Kong stands there like a wooden figure, offering not the slightest response.

Chen Xing isn’t particularly surprised by this.

She knows her younger brother’s attachment to this place, and she understands why he clings to it.

But in contrast, Chen Xing loathes this place—so much so that she doesn’t want to stay here even a second longer.

As for whether she hates the city itself, or the things that happened within it—that remains unknown.

On the open space before the boarding passage.

As Tendou and the others leave one after another, only Chen Kong remains, standing there alone in silence.

He gazes at Deep Blue Metropolis shrouded in morning mist, his eyes filled with a dazed, distant look.

In the distance, the tallest structure in the city—the Pearl of Deep Blue—is still playing its holographic advertisements.

By the harbor, the 24-hour convenience store continues to glow with warm light.

Not far away, the vending machines still hold the specialty drinks they had just bought.

Yet none of these are what Chen Kong wants to see right now.

What he truly wants to see is Trilan Junior High, the place he may never return to again.

If only he hadn’t undergone the Star Core surgery.

If only he weren’t a Starbearer, but just an ordinary, normal person.

Then perhaps, at this very moment, he wouldn’t have to leave this place at all.

Beeeep—!

“Dear passengers, there are ten minutes remaining before departure. Please proceed to board as soon as possible if you have not yet done so. Thank you for your cooperation.”

As the massive liner outside the harbor suddenly roars to life, the courteous announcement echoes through the terminal.

A moment later, Chen Kong’s chaotic thoughts are completely pulled back into reality.

Coming to his senses, he casts one final look at the city he cherishes so deeply, then drags his luggage and turns toward the boarding passage.

If only people could live in the past forever—how wonderful would that be?

Or rather, if this world didn’t have Star Origin at all… how wonderful would that be…

“Hey, can’t bear to leave?”

On the ship’s deck, Tendou glances at Chen Kong—who, after boarding and stowing his luggage, dawdles for quite a while before finally coming up on deck—and asks in a half-teasing tone.

This time, Chen Kong, who usually isn’t very good at expressing his emotions, nods without hesitation, admitting plainly that he really is reluctant to leave.

Seeing that, Tendou leans back against the railing, twirling a mint candy between his fingers while looking up at the seagulls circling overhead.

With an air of utter nonchalance, he says, “If you don’t want to leave, then don’t. Stay as long as you want to.”

Although he’s deeply tempted by Tendou’s suggestion, Chen Kong ultimately shakes his head.

“No.”

“Is it because you think you can’t do it,” Tendou asks, “or because you can’t bear the consequences of doing so?”

Chen Kong looks at Tendou, who’s leaning against the railing with his eyes closed, feeling the sea breeze. After a moment of thought, he replies, “Both.”

“I see…”

Tendou lowers his head and, without warning, flicks the mint candy spinning in his hand straight at Chen Kong’s forehead.

The small candy traces a perfect arc through the air and hits its mark with pinpoint accuracy.

It doesn’t hurt, but for the unprepared Chen Kong, it sends him scrambling awkwardly to catch it.

As for the instigator, Tendou has already flipped himself up to sit atop the railing.

The sea wind lifts the silver-white strands of hair on his forehead, while the lenses of his sunglasses reflect the shimmering waves below.

Watching Chen Kong’s flustered reaction, Tendou jokes without a shred of guilt:

“Hey, Kong. Since you know that the you of today can’t do it, then you should find a way to make the you of tomorrow capable of doing it.”

“People ought to have something to look forward to while they’re alive. You can’t expect someone to always stand in front of you, blocking the wind and rain for you, can you?”

“I’ve never thought that,” Chen Kong says.

“But that’s exactly what you’ve been doing.”

Tendou’s tone suddenly sheds its earlier levity. His expression turns serious, his gaze fixed on Chen Kong with unprecedented gravity.

“Kong, if there’s something you want, you should take the initiative and fight for it yourself—not keep thinking about relying on others.”

“I know that a lot of the time you’re not really trying to run away. It’s just that you believe it’s impossible with your current strength, so you feel forced to retreat.”

“But people can’t live in the past forever, nor can they keep running from the future.”

“Kong, have you ever considered this question—what if one day the Doctor, Yume-nee, even your sister and I, all suddenly stood on the opposite side from you?”

“If that happens, where would you run to? Where could you run to? The people who once protected you would all have become your enemies.”

Hearing this sudden question, Chen Kong freezes.

Because he truly has never considered the possibility of such a day.

And if the future really did turn out like that, what should he do?

After all, whether it was his sister Chen Xing or Tendou, they were existences whose backs he could barely glimpse even after giving it his all.

If even they became his enemies, then it really would seem that there was nowhere left for him to hide.

Even though what Tendou said was only a hypothetical.

But that hypothetical future truly did present him with a terrifying possibility—one he could neither face nor bring himself to confront.

Because he simply didn’t believe he had the ability to deal with such a future at all.

Fortunately, Tendou had no intention of pressing him further, and instead smiled as he gave the “standard answer.”

“Idiot. If you can’t do it on your own, then find more people who share your ideals and use their strength to make it happen.”

“But, Tendou, didn’t you just say I shouldn’t always hide behind other people?” Chen Kong asked.

At that, Tendou rubbed his temples in exasperation.

It was obvious he thought this guy was being stubborn to the point of hopeless stupidity.

“Kong, I told you not to always hide behind others—but I never said you couldn’t stand among them!”

“If one person can’t get something done, then two people do it together. If two still can’t manage it, then three do it together. And if three still can’t, then get three hundred people to do it together!”

“If your own strength is small, then all the more reason you should learn how to properly use the strength of others. And in that regard, haven’t you always done quite well?”

Hearing this, Chen Kong freezes on the spot.

But after only a brief moment of thought, he quickly finds the flaw in Tendou’s words.

“But Tendou, if one day you really do end up on the opposite side from me, I feel like even if I gathered everyone together, I still wouldn’t be able to beat you by yourself.”

“Uh…”

That single sentence truly leaves Tendou at a loss.

After thinking it over, he finally offers an answer that seems at least somewhat reasonable.

“Is losing to me really that shameful?”

“I guess not. Losing to you wouldn’t be embarrassing at all, and besides, I don’t think—”

Just as Chen Kong is about to continue, the ten-thousand-ton liner beneath their feet suddenly lets out a long, resounding blast of its horn.

The sound echoes across the entire harbor—and cuts off what he was about to say.

As the ship pushes through the deep blue sea, leaving a long white wake along the channel, the Deep Blue Metropolis behind them begins to grow smaller and smaller.

Watching the city recede into the distance, Chen Kong suddenly loses interest in continuing the discussion with Tendou, and instead turns his attention to the city he is about to never see again.

Tendou, sitting on the deck railing, says nothing further either.

He takes another mint candy from his coat, peels it open, tosses it into his mouth—and bites down, crushing it.

Then he gazes at the ever-distant Deep Blue Metropolis, the eyes hidden behind his sunglasses filled with a dark, unfathomable depth.

In truth, just as Chen Kong had left his sentence unfinished, Tendou, too, had words he did not say.

Indeed, losing to him is not something to be ashamed of.

But sometimes, what you lose once you lost, is far beyond something as insignificant as shame.

As the ship sails into the deep sea, Deep Blue Metropolis finally disappears beyond the horizon.

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