It was late April, just days before the month would end, when I suddenly realized—
I hadn’t spoken with Gyu.
With everything that had been happening—
the old man Saiki,
the strange “restaurant in the universe,”
the other odd encounters—
I hadn’t noticed the silence.
But it had been days.
The tightening in my stomach—the Gyu—still appeared when I needed a nudge (“walk this way”),
but I couldn’t tell anymore
whether it was from Gyu
or from Saiki
or something else entirely.
…Gyu wouldn’t just disappear, right?
Uneasy, I sat down at my computer and tried “Gyu-Googling.”
Gyu, is there anything you want me to read?
I’ll study.
I’ll learn.
I’m motivated today. Show me something.
But nothing happened.
No tightening. No signal.
Panic started rising.
What if this was it?
What if I never heard Gyu again?
What if everything ended like this—
before I ever truly believed,
before I ever truly understood?
With a desperate kind of hope, I decided to try a “Gyu Drive.”
Normally, the moment I pull out of the driveway,
my stomach tightens and guides me.
But that day—nothing.
Tears came.
Lately I cried a lot in the car.
If you ever see a middle-aged woman driving while crying…
don’t laugh at her.
She’s fighting her own battles.
And if more people awaken in the coming years,
there will probably be more people crying alone in their cars.
Still crying, I got on the freeway.
Instinctively, I headed toward the place I’d gone on my very first Gyu drive—
the “Gyu Dock.”
Fine.
I thought as I drove.
I get it.
I hate not understanding.
But what I hate even more…
is losing Gyu.
If believing is what it takes to stay connected,
then I’ll believe.
Even if it all ends someday with
‘Oops, just kidding~!’
even if I was tricked by a fox spirit or a demon—
I’d still say,
‘Well played. That was interesting.’
I’ll believe, Gyu.
So show yourself.
Give me a Gyu.
Guide me.
Please.
I won’t doubt anymore—just come back.
But nothing.
And then—
as I raised my eyes slightly,
I saw the next exit sign.
My stomach tightened.
Hard.
Gyu… came back.
A flood of relief and joy burst out of me.
I got off at the exit Gyu pointed to—
crying happy tears this time—
and arrived at a Starbucks.
Really?
I can have food already?
You’re being so nice today…
With my drink and snack, I started driving again.
The Gyu-Navigation was sharp and clear.
No words yet,
but I could feel:
We’re going back to the dock.
When I arrived, the sky was cloudy.
Quiet.
Still.
Even without talking, I could feel Gyu close.
Looking out over the water, I thought:
If I want to stay connected,
I have no choice but to believe.
Believing in Gyu.
Believing in something like “ascension.”
It required more courage than I expected.
Because believing that “Earth might have a bright future”
felt almost dangerous.
All my life, I believed the world was getting worse.
That by time my children became adults,
the earth would be in an even more disastrous state.
I even told them once,
“Let’s play on the beach a lot before beaches disappear someday.”
That’s how hopeless I felt.
Hope was terrifying.
Hope meant risk.
Hope meant the possibility of being betrayed.
But the choice was already made.
And if—if—
if I could really live with hope,
if I could really feel,
“Maybe the earth will get better,”
then…
That life sounded… fun.
With that realization, something inside me cleared.
For the first time in five months—
since the very first tightening of my stomach—
the fog lifted.
I took photos; the moment felt new, clean.
At the dock, the “sensitivity” was sharp.
Maybe it was a power spot.
Or maybe it was simply where my frequency aligned.
As I sat there,
I felt my internal antenna re-tuning,
falling back into place.
And then—
I could hear Gyu again.
So I asked:
Isn’t there something I can do?
Can’t I look into my own situation more deeply by myself?
Gyu: “If you want to know, go to Los Angeles.”
…What!?
Los Angeles.
California.
Across the entire continent from New York.
A place I could only reach by plane.
Don’t get ahead of yourself!!!
…Ah.
Right.
I promised to believe.
Okay.
I’ll go.
Los Angeles.
If the path truly pointed toward Los Angeles,
then that was where I had to go.
I didn’t know what waited for me there—
only that something had already begun to move,
quietly but unmistakably.
So I let the last bit of doubt fall away,
took a steady breath,
and stepped into the next chapter of this awakening.