The funeral hall had become quiet.
Too quiet.
Renji Aisaka sat near the front, dressed in black, his hands resting loosely on his knees.
In front of him was the photograph of his grandfather.
That familiar smile.
Those familiar eyes.
The same face that had looked at him countless times whenever Renji visited.
But today, that smile existed only inside a frame.
Renji stared at it without blinking.
"Yesterday..."
His fingers slowly tightened.
"Yesterday, everything was normal."
He remembered sitting with his grandfather just the previous evening.
They had talked about ordinary things.
Nothing important.
Nothing that felt like it would become a final conversation.
There was something Renji had wanted to ask him.
Something he had been meaning to ask for a while.
He had even thought about asking him the next time he visited.
"I'll ask tomorrow."
That was what he had told himself.
Tomorrow.
But tomorrow never came.
Renji lowered his eyes.
"I was going to ask him something."
His throat tightened.
"I thought I had time."
People around him slowly began leaving the funeral hall.
Relatives exchanged quiet words.
Some bowed toward the photograph before walking away.
His parents eventually stood as well.
"Renji."
His mother's voice was gentle.
"We're going home."
Renji didn't answer immediately.
He continued staring at the photograph.
His father placed a hand lightly on his shoulder.
"Come on."
Renji finally stood.
One by one, the remaining people left.
The sound of footsteps faded.
The doors closed.
And eventually...
Renji was alone.
Only the photograph remained in front of him.
He looked at it again.
For some reason, the silence felt heavier now that nobody else was there.
He slowly sat back down.
"Grandpa..."
His voice barely escaped his throat.
"I still had something to ask you."
Nothing answered.
Renji smiled faintly.
A painful, helpless smile.
"I thought I'd ask you tomorrow."
His eyes began to sting.
"Why did I think there would always be a tomorrow?"
He lowered his head.
A tear slipped down his cheek.
And then another.
For the first time, Renji understood something that nobody had ever been able to properly explain to him.
Life doesn't announce when it's about to end.
There is no warning.
No final countdown.
No voice telling you,
"This is your last conversation."
Yesterday could feel completely ordinary.
And today...
Someone could simply be gone.
Renji wiped his face with the back of his hand.
He looked toward the empty seats around him.
A few hours ago, this place had been filled with people.
Now there was almost nobody left.
Just like that.
People came.
People stayed.
People left.
And sometimes...
They never came back.
Renji slowly stood and walked toward the doors.
His hand stopped on the handle.
He looked back one last time.
His grandfather's photograph was still there.
Still smiling.
As if nothing had changed.
Renji whispered,
"I'll remember you."
He opened the door.
Then stopped.
Something had suddenly occurred to him.
His grandfather had lived a long life.
Longer than Renji could even imagine.
Yet somehow, from Renji's perspective...
it still wasn't long enough.
He had always believed that old people had plenty of time.
That there would always be another visit.
Another conversation.
Another meal.
Another story.
Another day.
But maybe that was the lie people told themselves just to feel safe.
There will be time.
Renji looked down at his hands.
What frightened him wasn't death itself.
It was everything that could remain unfinished before death arrived.
The words you never said.
The person you never visited.
The apology you kept postponing.
The confession you were too afraid to make.
The goodbye you thought you'd say later.
And suddenly, Renji remembered something his grandfather had once told him.
"Don't keep everything for tomorrow."
At the time, Renji hadn't understood.
Now he did.
His grandfather hadn't been telling him to rush through life.
He had been telling him that tomorrow was never something anyone could promise.
Renji stepped outside.
The afternoon sky was beginning to turn orange.
People were walking along the street.
Cars passed.
Children laughed somewhere nearby.
Everything continued as if nothing had happened.
That almost hurt more.
The world didn't stop because someone had died.
The sun still moved.
People still laughed.
Shops still opened.
Tomorrow would still arrive.
Just...
not for everyone.
Renji looked up at the sky.
A strange thought crossed his mind.
"How many people are walking around right now, thinking they still have plenty of time?"
He closed his eyes.
"How many people are postponing something important?"
"How many people are saying..."
"I'll go there someday."
"I'll meet them someday."
"I'll tell them someday."
"I'll go back someday."
His eyes opened.
For the first time, the word someday frightened him.
Because his grandfather had just proven something Renji had never wanted to believe.
Sometimes, someday never comes.
Renji started walking home.
He didn't know it yet...
But that funeral would become the first memory that changed the way he looked at his entire life.
Years later, whenever he saw fireworks lighting up the summer sky, he would remember this day.
The day he learned that people don't always get a final goodbye.
The day he learned that regret isn't always born from doing something wrong.
Sometimes...
regret is simply something you wanted to do, but believed you had more time to do.
And somewhere in the future, Renji would meet someone who would teach him the opposite lesson.
Someone who would grab his hand and drag him toward life.
Someone who would make him laugh.
Someone who would make him look at fireworks.
Someone who would become a memory he could never completely let go of.
But Renji didn't know any of that yet.
For now, he was just a boy walking home from his grandfather's funeral...
quietly carrying the weight of a tomorrow that would never come.