Rising unsteadily to his feet, Souta wrestled with an internal tempest. Each rapid heartbeat was a drumbeat of desire to flee towards the unknown, yet each breath he drew was laden with the weight of a sacred vow. His mother's earnest plea echoed in his mind, binding him as surely as roots tethered ancient trees to the earth.

With trembling hands, he wiped away the last vestiges of sleep and tears, his resolve fracturing like thin ice underfoot. The station would not wait for him, nor would time itself. As if propelled by forces beyond his understanding, Souta stumbled out of the house, his steps gaining urgency as he crossed the threshold of what had once been a sanctuary.

The air was cool and still as he reached the train station, the silence oppressive and complete. Not a soul stirred; even the whispering leaves seemed to hold their breath. The platform, once bustling with life and laughter, now stood abandoned, a stark monument to departure.

Panic surged within Souta, a tidal wave crashing against the shores of his reason. Desperation clawed at his throat as he realized the gravity of his indecision. Had the last train already departed, leaving him marooned in this remnant of a village? His heart raced, his thoughts fractured with shards of regret.

"Should have acted sooner," he muttered to himself, a bitter lament for opportunities missed. "Should have left when there was still time." He paced the length of the deserted platform, each step a measure of his solitude.

"I should have..."

"Should've..."

"... I."

Standing at the edge, where worn wood met rusted rails, Souta's gaze stretched into the distance, following the tracks as it snaked its way toward horizons unseen. His eyes, once filled wih the vibrant spark of storytelling dreams, were now dull mirrors reflecting a desolate soul.

"Maybe this is my destiny," he whispered into the void, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own defeated heartbeat. "To be alone, forgotten by a world that has moved on without me."

The thought settled over him like a shroud. Perhaps the promise he made was more than an oath—it was his fate. "I was born here, so I'll die here" felt less like a statement of comfort now and more like a prophecy sealed by his own inaction.

Souta collapsed onto a nearby bench, his body heavy with resignation. Dreams of a livelier future crumbled to dust in his hands, just as his village had deteriorated around him. Acceptance bore down upon him, a cruel confirmation that he was meant for isolation.

"Then so be it," he said, his voice empty, surrendering to the vast emptiness that promised to consume him. In the eerie quiet of the abandoned train station, Souta sat motionless for who knows how long, staring at the tracks leading away from everything he knew, into a future he could no longer imagine.