Anime Crossover : Living in the Heart of Tokyo-Chapter 223 As Promised

[Bunkyo Ward, Mejirodai Town, 3-chome, Block 25, Lot 7]

Mitsuha glanced down at the slip of paper in her hand, checking the address one last time.

She took a deep breath, calming the excitement bubbling in her chest.

She had just returned from Suimon City to her new home in Tokyo.

Outside, Mr. Yamamura Ono the kendo master from Suimon was being entertained by her father.

To make travel easier, she had been dressing casually: a high ponytail and a simple tracksuit whether she was heading to the Chiba dojo in Tonomachi or visiting Suimon.

But today was different this was a formal house visit.

The whole family would be present, or so she'd heard.

She needed to dress properly, look her best, and bring a gift.

She walked over to her vanity.

Beside the mirror sat a three-tiered wooden jewelry box—one she'd brought all the way from Itomori to Nara, and now to Tokyo.

She opened the drawer adorned with ukiyo-e waves in ocean blue. Inside, glittering hair accessories sparkled like tiny treasures.

There had been a time when her collection was just a few elastic ties from the 100-yen shop.

But now? Each barrette and comb in that box was worth at least a thousand yen.

It wasn't just a box of accessories anymore, it was a symbol of how her life had changed with each move.

Most of these were bought back in Nara, when her grandmother had taken her and her sister shopping.

Ever since she'd stopped being a shrine maiden, Mitsuha rarely spent time braiding her hair.

Her long, thick black locks were usually left loose or tied in a quick ponytail.

But even so—no girl could resist the allure of beautiful, delicate accessories. And today, she wanted to show her most radiant side for his family.

'Which one should I choose?'

She pursed her lips and looked into the mirror, hesitating.

Then, she quietly closed the ocean wave drawer and opened the one beside it, this one painted with soft pink petals.

Inside lay a single red and blue knotted ribbon—Tachibana-style.

"This one," said the voice in her head.

She recognized it immediately.

It was her own voice, from three years ago—deeper, slightly raspy from adolescence.

Holding the ribbon between her lips, she gently smoothed her hair, then wove it into a braid, coiled it around the back of her head and secured it with the ribbon.

With a touch of Tachibana-tinted gloss on her already full lips, their natural red tone took on an even more luminous glow.

Mitsuha lifted her gaze to the mirror.

"Beautiful."

A voice echoed in her ears, almost like a hallucination and for a moment, she thought she saw someone giving her two enthusiastic thumbs up.

Her lips curled into a faint smile.

She was already stunning, but in that moment, her beauty glowed with an added charm.

She knew it wasn't just her imagination—it was a memory.

A real one.

She had long realized she was missing something.

Important memories.

Why had she once begged her father to run that emergency drill?

Why did she possess such expert-level skill in Hokushin Ittō-ryū swordsmanship?

Faces and places that had no business being part of Itomori surfaced in her mind—along with an obsession with Tokyo.

And most of all, a desire to meet that one person. The most important person of all.

She was about to see him again.

Spinning in front of the full-length mirror, satisfied with her look, Mitsuha walked to the storage room and picked out a few of the gifts her father had received over time.

These were her thank-you presents for Mr. Yamamura Ono, who had not only shared crucial information but also helped arrange the meeting.

As for the gifts for the Hojou family, she had something else in mind.

Items from her father's collection, which he wouldn't miss: department store gift cards for Hojou's mother.

A brand-new toy car that Yotsuba despite having outgrown such things couldn't resist buying, and a bamboo sword she had specially ordered from a famous koryū kendo school in Kyoto.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Yamamura," she said, bowing slightly.

"Not at all. It's better to be well-rested and presentable before an important visit," he replied with a warm wave of his hand.

Miyamizu Toshiki, who had taken time off to show his daughters around Tokyo, looked at his elegantly dressed eldest daughter with a complicated mix of emotions.

"I'll never braid my hair like that again!" she had once said with glee, right after the family managed to leave Itomori behind.

"Do you need me to drive you?" he asked, more curious now than ever.

"No need. It's just around the corner in Mejirodai—it's a short walk," Mitsuha replied.

The bags she carried weren't heavy at all.

Their home in Hinata Town, south of Ochanomizu Women's University, was barely a kilometer from the address on the note.

"Be sure to come back for dinner. I made a reservation."

"Dinner, huh..."

Mitsuha hesitated.

Technically, a first-time visit like this should be brief.

But something deep inside told her this wasn't a typical visit.

The relationship already felt... deeper.

Even the gifts she carried were far beyond what was customary.

"You and Yotsuba should go instead. Didn't she say she's been craving Italian food?"

"Ooh! Going to the boyfriend's house for dinner on the first visit? That's bold, sis!" Yotsuba popped out of her room with a grin and gave a big thumbs up.

"It's just a visit!" Mitsuha shot back—but the blush on her cheeks made it hard to believe her.

"Shall we go then, Mr. Yamamura?"

"Have fun on your date~!" Yotsuba shouted before the door closed.

"You know, I haven't seen that Hojou kid in over six months," Yamamura said casually as they walked. "I guess this visit answers the invitation he gave me back then."

"What kind of person is he?" Mitsuha asked softly.

"A kendo prodigy!" Yamamura answered without hesitation. Manga artist, novelist—none of that mattered to him compared to this one title.

"I need to give him a good scolding. I told him to train at our family's dojo once he got to Tokyo, but he hasn't shown up once!"

"Hehe~"

For some reason, that made Mitsuha laugh.

In her memories, he always seemed a bit annoyed by his own swordsmanship skills.

Chatting casually, the two arrived in front of a house so new it didn't even have a nameplate yet.

In Japan, home addresses didn't always follow a neat numerical order, so deliveries often relied on nameplates for identification.

But Hojou's new home didn't need one.

It was tall, surrounded by trees and clearly stood out as the only house like it in the area.

"Wow, it's huge," Yamamura said, eyes wide in surprise. "I can't believe Hojou built this much in just three years. Impressive."

"Yeah..." Mitsuha murmured, feeling a shy warmth rise in her chest.

Hearing others praise Hojou unexpectedly filled her with pride.

She rang the doorbell.

A cheerful voice answered through the intercom, and moments later, a woman in a beige dress came smiling through the garden gate to greet them.

"Yamamura-san! It's been ages—welcome, welcome!" Hojou Mikiko greeted them warmly with a bright smile.

"Haha, Hojou-san always brings me gifts every time she comes back to Suimon," Yamamura chuckled, handing over a present.

Then he introduced the two:

"This is Miyamizu Mitsuha. And this Is Hojou Mikiko, Kyousuke's mother."

"Ma'am... Have we met before?" Mitsuha asked politely with a bow, her voice uncertain.

Something about this woman made her feel instantly drawn to her.

Mikiko paused for a second, surprised, but then her smile grew even warmer.

"You know, your name does sound familiar. Maybe we really have met somewhere. You can just call me Aunt Mikiko."

"Aunt Mikiko!" Mitsuha responded cheerfully, going along with the suggestion.

The three of them entered the house.

Mitsuha noticed something odd—Aunt Mikiko handed her a pair of slippers, but they weren't the usual disposable guest slippers.

They were brand-new, soft cotton ones.

She found it strange but didn't say anything. Instead, she silently handed over the gift she brought.

"Kasu-chan! Come here! This big sister brought a present for you too!" Mikiko called out toward the garden.

Outside, in the small backyard, three generations of the Hojou family were huddled around a patch of soil, inspecting a seed that a bird had dropped off for Kasuko a few days earlier.

Incredibly, it had already sprouted.

Ever since then, the little girl had barely left the spot except to eat or sleep watching the seed's progress and muttering things like, "Grow faster, grow faster!"

Feeling her own efforts weren't enough, she'd enlisted both her dad and grandpa to help.

The moment Kasuko heard the word "present," she snapped her head up and turned.

When she spotted a pretty unfamiliar girl in the living room, she immediately dashed over, leaving her slippers behind and skittering across the floor.

"This is from Miyamizu Mitsuha," Mikiko said as she handed her daughter a toy car.

"Wow, you're really pretty!" Kasuko exclaimed in a clear, sweet little voice.

Mitsuha was caught off guard.

Unlike Yotsuba, who would get completely distracted by toys, this adorable child's first instinct was to compliment her.

'Isn't she only two years old? She's way too cute!'

"Thank you, Kasuko-chan. You're adorable too," Mitsuha said, standing up from the couch.

She smoothed her skirt, then crouched down and hugged the little girl gently.

Watching from nearby, Mikiko chuckled knowingly.

She remembered how, on the very first day, her son had given Kasuko strict instructions: if a new "big sister" ever visited, she was to give them a compliment right away.

They even rehearsed it multiple times.

Her silly daughter had taken it on as a serious mission, brimming with responsibility.

At that moment, Hojou Ichirou and his son entered the living room.

Once they heard Yamamura was Kyousuke's kendo teacher, they eagerly pulled him aside into the tatami room for tea.

As for Mitsuha, Ichirou only offered a polite greeting before letting out a long, thoughtful sigh.

Hojou's grandmother had gone out to buy groceries, leaving just Mitsuha, Mikiko, and little Kasuko now playing with her new toy in the living room.

"Um..." Mitsuha began, wanting to explain why she had come.

"Kyousuke's still out running an errand. He'll be back soon, so please make yourself comfortable," Mikiko said with a gentle smile.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all. Honestly, it's not anything urgent," Mitsuha replied quickly, flustered by the knowing look on the woman's face.

Her cheeks reddened as she waved her hands in denial.

The two of them began chatting casually about the deer in Nara, about college, high school life...

Before long, the sound of a motorcycle revving came from the direction of the garage.

Everyone in the house, even Mitsuha, instinctively looked up. Yamamura, however, remained clueless.

"Was that... Hojou Kyousuke-san?" Mitsuha asked, unsure.

She didn't know much about motorcycles, but somehow, the sound immediately conjured up the image of a black bike in her mind.

"Yes, that's him. You must be really close with Kyousuke to recognize the sound of his Rocket 33 just like that," Mikiko said with a playful smile.

"N-No, that's not it..." Mitsuha began to deny it, but before she could say more, the door leading from the garage swung open.

Unable to hold back her excitement any longer, she stood up abruptly.

A figure slowly stepped into the room a blue denim shirt, black casual pants, tousled hair, and a handsome face that left Mitsuha wondering how she could have possibly forgotten someone like him.

He was clearly taller than her own father, with a lean, well-proportioned build.

As someone who practiced kendo herself, she immediately noticed the subtle control in his seemingly relaxed movements.

"Kyousuke!"

The name burst out of her lips before she realized it, in a voice so sweet and emotional it sounded like a wife welcoming her husband home.

She was surprised by her own tone and immediately turned beet red.

She couldn't recall his face from her memories, yet the moment she saw him, she knew.

This was the reason she had to come to Tokyo. This was the one person she had to find.

Her wide, tear-filled eyes shimmered under her long lashes.

Her heart swelled with emotions so powerful they felt volcanic—grief, joy, confusion, and relief, all tangled and surging at once.

It was too much.

All she could do was cry.

Still holding his keys in one hand and a shopping bag in the other, Kyousuke had just turned back to check whether he locked the garage when he heard that familiar voice.

Soft and husky with a hint of magnetism, it instantly summoned the memory of a girl in a school uniform, standing on a hilltop, face tilted up toward him.

"Mitsuha?"

He turned, stunned and there she was.

The same girl, now standing before him with tears streaming down her face.

Even with his trained mind, he had to blink to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

He looked around, half expecting the scene to vanish.

But no, it was real. She was real.

The gray top, the long white skirt, the way she stood it all matched his memories perfectly.

Even the braid in her hair lined up with every detail he remembered.

He hadn't even gone to look for her yet.

But here she was, like something out of a dream. Just as if it had all been preordained—she had come to him.

"It's you! It's really you!"

Mitsuha's voice rang with happiness as she saw the boy recognize her instantly too.

Her heart burst this wasn't a delusion.

She wasn't the only one holding onto this feeling. He had been waiting for her, too.

Forgetting the others in the room, Mitsuha clutched her skirt and ran toward him, unable to contain herself.

"Kyousuke! Kyousuke! Kyousuke!"

She called his name over and over—each time louder, each time with more strength.

All her doubts, her longing, her hopes, they were wrapped up in that single name.

Her memories were still cloudy, but wrapped in his arms, breathing in his familiar scent and feeling the warmth of his chest, Mitsuha finally found her answer.

"It's you... It's really you."

Kyousuke let go and dropped what he was holding, pulling the brave girl into a tight embrace.

The memory of Mitsuha wandering alone through Tokyo, crying in despair as she searched for someone still lingered vividly in her mind.

And now, guided by the messages he had left behind, she had come—just as promised.

Nearby, Mikiko had already noticed her son's reaction to seeing Mitsuha again.

Without saying much, she gently took her daughter's hand, called the rest of the family and guests, and quietly left the house for dinner.

She sensed that today's visitor was different from the others. Her son needed time just the two of them.

"My mom and the others have gone out," Kyousuke said, patting the girl's back softly.

Mitsuha's tears had stopped, but her small face still pressed firmly against his chest.

He could tell she was embarrassed.

At his words, Mitsuha hesitantly loosened her grip and turned her head, cheeks flushed.

Sure enough, the once-bustling room was now empty.

Even Kasuko and Mikiko, who had been laughing and playing on the floor moments ago, were nowhere to be seen.

Glancing over at the washitsu, it too was quiet and empty.

With a quiet sigh of relief, Mitsuha's pale cheeks turned even redder.

As she shifted slightly, a cool sensation brushed her cheek.

Looking down, she realized Kyousuke's denim shirt had a large damp patch from her tears.

"Sorry... I got your shirt all wet," she mumbled, now feeling a little self-conscious.

Even though she still felt a strange sense of closeness and love she couldn't explain, her tone grew more reserved.

"These are your tears," Kyousuke said gently, wiping the corner of her eye with his thumb. "How could that ever be dirty?"

He led her to the couch, pulling out a wet wipe and carefully cleaning her delicate face.

The soft chill of the wipe mixed with the warmth of his fingers.

Just like that, her uneasiness melted away. She closed her eyes and simply let herself enjoy the tenderness.

"You must have a lot of questions in your heart, don't you?"

Kyousuke smiled as he looked at her now-clean face, content.

Mitsuha nodded slightly. "Yeah. It's like... huge chunks of my memory are just gone."

"It's like being stuck inside a balloon—there's pressure, it keeps growing, but I just can't break through the wall around it."

Her hand was held tightly in his.

Though she felt shy, she didn't try to pull away. In fact, she didn't feel uncomfortable at all.

"You've been through a lot," Kyousuke said softly, stroking her head with care.

No one understood that feeling better than he did, he too had been trapped in the same haze. Even her neatly braided hair brought back a deep sense of nostalgia.

"It hurts sometimes," Mitsuha said. "I try so hard to remember... to reach the parts I lost. But all it brings is nausea, confusion. No matter how hard I try, I just can't recall anything."

Kyousuke turned his head slightly as sunlight streamed through the large glass windows.

He gently kissed her porcelain cheek.

Her delicate, upturned nose glowed under the light like a painted highlight, and her long lashes fluttered slightly, as if echoing her lingering anxiety.

The hand he held tightened around his in return, as if drawing strength from his touch.

Her voice came softly, like a dandelion drifting through the sky:

"But... even when it was hard, there was always this voice in my head. It said, 'I'm waiting for you in Tokyo.' Just hearing that made the darkness disappear—like magic."

"No matter how exhausted I was from studying, I'd suddenly feel energized again."

She opened her eyes, looking into his.

"And today, I finally heard that voice again. Kyousuke... I finally found you."

Mitsuha's eyes met his, her smile so genuine, so full of warmth, it was like a beam of light cutting through the tattered remains of her memory.

"But... I'm sorry. I lost our memories..." she said, lowering her head in guilt.

"It's not your fault," Kyousuke replied gently. "It was just a mischievous god playing tricks on us."

"A god?" she looked up at him, confused.

He gave her a reassuring smile. "Yeah. But hold on—I have something for you."

"A gift?"

"Mm-hmm. Something I've been preparing for a long time."

Kyousuke pulled out his phone and tapped a few times.

Outside the large glass doors of the living room and washitsu, the motorized blinds began to lower in smooth, rhythmic movements, giving the house a futuristic vibe.

Security had always been one of his top priorities when designing the home.

Even though Japan was said to be safe, and he lived in a luxury neighborhood, he never let his guard down.

In addition to a top-of-the-line security system, he was even considering biological security—like getting a dog.

As the room dimmed, small ambient lights flickered on.

From the garden-facing wall, a massive white projection screen slowly descended.

Mitsuha didn't ask any questions. ƒrēenovelkiss.com

She waited patiently, though a part of her wanted to ask if Kyousuke remembered everything, why hadn't he come to find her?

The projector whirred to life.

With a 230-inch screen carefully matched to the layout of the living room, the image quality was flawless.

"Ah... that's me!"

On the screen appeared a place Mitsuha knew better than anywhere—Miyamizu Shrine.

It was like a painting—hyper-realistic, almost like a photograph.

There she was, kneeling beside her little sister in a brick-red patterned kimono.

In front of them sat ceremonial tools with knotted cords.

Their grandmother, dressed in black, was speaking to them.

"This is from the first time we swapped," Kyousuke said, turning to look at the stunned girl beside him. "This is what I experienced."

Even just watching the image, he felt the nostalgia rush over him.

"Swapped?" Mitsuha blinked.

Just as she was about to ask where he'd found such a picture, his words made her heart skip a beat.

"Yes. We used to switch bodies in our dreams. The first time it happened, I nodded off during a festival and woke up... in your body."

'In my body!?'

Her face instantly turned crimson.

Thankfully, the room was dark maybe Kyousuke couldn't see how red she was or guess what she was imagining.

"I was totally freaked out," he laughed. "I thought I'd traveled to another world."

"Your grandmother asked me to braid the sacred cord, but I had no idea what I was doing. Thankfully, Yotsuba helped me."

"Hehe~" Mitsuha giggled, looking at the picture of her younger self and her sister. Then she asked, "Wait... did you draw this?"

"Yeah," Kyousuke nodded. "Took me a while."

Even with his talent, it had taken great effort to recreate the image from memory and verbal descriptions. No photos, no references just what he remembered.

"I thought, 'Since Mitsuha lost her memories, I'll just help her see them again.' So I started drawing."

She turned back to the screen.

Every detail was perfect.

She could even count the lashes on her eyes.

Reaching up, she touched the braid on her head every knot was right where it should be.

Even the number of thread spools in front of her matched exactly...

All of this, this boy beside her had drawn by hand. Stroke by stroke, purely from memory.

"'Since Mitsuha lost her memories, I'll help her see them again.'" The way he said it—so casually, like he was just describing dinner moved her to the core.

If the memory hadn't meant everything to him... there's no way he could've done this.

Her eyes began to sting. Her chest ached with emotion.

She clenched her fists, trying not to just throw her arms around him.

Instead, she asked:

"Then what about me? When I was in your body... what did I do?"

"You? You were just as shocked," Kyousuke said with a chuckle, the memory clearly amusing him.

"I still remember how you pretended to be asleep in such a dangerous place. Seriously, you're so cute sometimes."

He tapped his phone, and the image on the projector screen changed to another stunningly detailed illustration—this time of Nezu Shrine.

It looked almost like a photograph.

Kyousuke had once wondered if that shrine had something to do with the strange connection that formed between them.

"At the time, you suddenly found yourself in an unfamiliar place. Surrounded by my junior who looked like thugs, hearing them talk about some pretty shady stuff—you were so scared, you didn't even dare look up."

"Liar! That's not true at all!" the swordswoman from Nara protested. "Those guys were just some low-level delinquents."

"If I had my bamboo sword, I could've taken them all down in a few minutes."

"Hahaha, I've got proof, you know," Kyousuke grinned as he tapped his phone again.

A document popped up on the screen something Mitsuha had written, reconstructed from memory.

It read:

———————————————————————

"My name is Mitsuha"

———————————————————————

Followed by a date underneath.