Series: X, Yuuto/Karen
Authour: Akauzu-kun
[Yuuto's POV. Maybe he's not such a bad guy after all? Either way,
he's *cool*, even with his warped fashion sense.]
[Disclaimery stuff: Nothing is mine. I'm a college student, I can't
afford anything anyway.]
It's raining. Tokyo has never looked good in the rain. The
colors seem to run together, like makeup on a woman that's been
crying. I suppose even the city, bright and full of life as it's said
to be, has the same washed-out air as the rest of the earth. I'm a
salaryman, among other things: I know the feeling. The planet's put
in its full shift, it's time for a break.
Whatever people that haven't found refuge in one shop or another
huddle together under umbrellas as if the rain could somehow hurt
them. It's just a little water - no harm in that, right? Yeah, I'd
know. Actually, with what Kusanagi has told me, plain old everyday
rain has more nasty stuff in it that any elemental I could conjure
up. Maybe it's not such a good idea to be walking out in it. From the
articles in Kusanagi's environmental brochures, the chemicals could
probably melt my hair. I join up with a group of businessmen cowering
under a bus stop shelter - I know they're businessmen because their
suits are better than mine. I'm just a humble civil servant, but I've
got an eye for the finer things of life. After all, when the world's
coming to an end, what do you have to live for besides pleasure?
It's Friday afternoon and I am bored. I could always go down to
the Government Building; Kanoe's always good for some fun. Even
Satsuki, in her bizarre sociopathic way, is interesting, but that
computer of hers just gives me chills. I have this feeling that one
day I'll end up getting killed by my own pocket calculator if I'm not
careful. The bus comes and picks up the other people standing under
the shelter, but I don't feel like getting on. Fuuma - Kamui,
whatever - hasn't exactly given me the timetables for this apocalypse
business, but I've got the feeling that we don't have long before the
final confrontation. I always thought I'd have a lot to take care of
before it happened. You know, one last party before the entire planet
goes to hell? But I don't. I ought to call my sister, tell her I'm
okay, something like that.
Tomoe. If she knew what I was doing here, what would she think?
She's got a nice apartment in the suburbs with that fiancée of hers,
she's got a new job, she's got plans for the future. If there is a
future. How could I explain myself to her when I can't even explain
it to myself? Maybe I won't call. I don't want to trouble her.
The bus lets off a new group of people, so I leave the stop and
continue down the street. I'm in one of the older areas of Tokyo now,
without all the glass skyscrapers and department stores. It's still
raining pretty hard, as if the sky is breaking open. Besides for
Tomoe, I have no one that I need to see. Dad died when I was a kid,
Mom lives with her sister in Yokohama - I ought to visit her too, but
that would be worse than talking to Tomoe. We have nothing to say to
each other. She always knew there was something strange about me: her
eyes were always suspicious, probing. It was almost an anticlimax
when she discovered me doing my little "tricks" with water. She had
stopped trusting me years before that. I don't want Tomoe to look at
me with those eyes.
Ugh. Rain makes me go all philosophical. I duck into sheltered
doorway, shaking the water off my jacket. I hope the shopkeeper
doesn't mind. It's too quiet to be a shop, though. Judging by all the
crosses, its some kind of church. Either that or Fuuma - Kamui,
whatever - did the decorating. It's a tiny little church, wedged in
between a ladies' clothing shop and a Korean restaurant. There's not
enough sun filtered through the narrow alleys to illuminate the
stained-glass windows, so somebody put in fluorescent lamps. Nice
touch - kind of reminds me of the dentist. At least it's dry.
Nobody's here, so I walk down the main aisle rather aimlessly.
The carpet is greyish and worn down, but I think it used to be red.
It's so quiet that my footsteps echo in the dead air, even muffled as
they are by the thin carpeting. I can hear myself breathing, a little
quicker now as my senses try to tell me something...
I'm not alone.
Then I realise that I've screwed up badly this time. She's here.
In two seconds she could have a kekkai up, and toast me to a crisp.
Yuuto flambé. I'm not even carrying weapons, it would be her power
versus mine - and I'm a little out of practice. She's sitting still
in the second row from the front, but I know she feels me here. I
can't run.
So I do the only gentlemanly thing - I walk up and take a seat
next to her. I might as well go out in style.
"Hey," I greet her, lamely. What exactly do you say to your
antithesis, the woman who's probably going to attempt killing you
within the next five minutes? Something better than "Hey", I guess.
At least she's as speechless as I am.
"Yuuto," she manages after a few moments. Her voice is low and
deceptively calm, which somehow makes her seem even more dangerous.
She's wearing a long coat, undoubtably concealing whatever costume
she wears for work as a soapland girl. Not that this is any time to
let my mind wander in that direction.
"Karen." Wavy brown hair covers one of her eyes, but the other
burns with fury. She raises her hands to form a kekkai, but lowers
them before anything happens.
"I won't kill you here." Her tone is resigned, and she closes
her eyes. "Out of respect for this place, I won't be the first to
attack. I don't know what you believe in, Mr. Kigai, but I suggest
that you thank whatever gods protect you for a small mercy." She
turns her gaze towards a statue of a mother and child. The Virgin.
Somehow, the juxtaposition of the soapland girl and the Christian
holy woman doesn't seem out of place. Karen's eyes are now as blank
as the marble ones of the statue.
I don't know what gods to thank, so I thank Karen. She looks at
me with an expression almost akin to surprise.
"Nothing personal," she replies. "We each have our own causes
and our own reasons." She returns her stare to the statues, the
windows, anything but me. We spend the next few moments like that, in
total silence. I can hear the hum of the fluorescent lights like
locusts in the back of my mind.
"I didn't choose to do this, you know," I say, just to relieve
the silence. "It's just a job."
"No great sweeping revenge against humanity? No tortured past?"
She leans back in her seat, looking at the ceiling now. "Somehow I
expected something more dramatic from you."
"I told you, it's just a job." She looks at me now, the anger
returning.
"Just a job? You make it sound like you're the innocent in this.
Killing people just because Kanoe told you to? I might not be able to
feel the pain of the earth, but I can feel the pain of the people
hurt in this stupid war."
"And you think I don't?" She didn't think I did, I can see it in
her face. She doesn't trust me. It's the same look my mother gave me
when I was younger. "They do more to hurt themselves then I've ever
done." Satsuki's logic there. It's cold and I don't like it but it's
true.
"Maybe so." She's real quiet now, staring at the worn carpet.
That must mean I've won, but I don't get any enjoyment out of it.
Still, the silence bothers me.
"So..." I begin.
"Don't say anything," she interrupts. "You're the last person I
want to talk to." So I don't say anything. I lean back on the pew,
futilely trying to find a comfortable position to sit in.
"Don't you have a witty comeback?" Her tone is neutral, maybe a
little forced. She's still looking at the floor; looking at the
places where the backing shows through because so many feet have
trampled it over the years.
"No."
"I find that hard to believe."
"What do you want me to say?" She stands up suddenly, her coat
swirling about her as she turns towards me.
"You can leave."
"I don't want to leave." I'm being difficult. It's a bad habit.
Karen narrows her eyes, and I can almost feel the kekkai flaring
around her. Just as suddenly, it's gone.
"If you're going to stay, then we'll have to start over. As
strangers. Normal people, without all this destiny crap." She thrusts
out her hand violently - not to summon kekkai, but in a
handshake. "Hi. My name is Karen Kasumi. Nice to meet you."
I stand up too - you should always stand up for a lady.
Especially one you don't know. Pretty confident that she won't kill
me yet, I take the hand she offered. It's cool, and not as soft as I
would have imagined. Her fingernails are red-lacquered, and very
shiny. They match the short red dress partially hidden by her coat.
"I'm Yuuto Kigai. Nice to meet you too."
"...Yeah. Well... damn, Yuuto, I don't even know how to make a
normal conversation anymore."
"We could always talk about the weather."
"It's crappy." We can still hear the rain drumming lightly on
the thin roof.
"I agree. Look, we agreed on something. Next thing you know,
your Kamui and my Kamui will be getting drunk together." Karen almost
smiles, but it is quickly stifled.
"They're just kids. Not like us. I remember what it was like to
grow up different from everyone else, not knowing what I was and not
having any control. I would have given anything to be normal." She
pauses to raise her hand in a mock-dramatic pose. "God, I sound like
an angsting teenager all over again." I laugh to myself, knowing too
well what she meant.
"So what brings you to church on a Friday, anyhow? I thought
that was a Sunday thing."
"My mother would have said it was an every day thing. She was
very... faithful. I couldn't make her funeral, back in San Francisco.
My uncle called me this morning... she died from one of those rare
cancers. Even if I could go I don't know what I would do. She was the
kind of woman that is best remembered three thousand miles away."
"I'm sorry about your mother."
"Why? I spent the last ten years wishing she would die. I hated
her. I still hate her. But she's still my mother."
I don't know what to say to that.
"My father had the right idea - he left when I was three and
came back to Japan. Maybe he's dead too - I don't care. He left me
with her. For sixteen years I believed what she told me - that I was
an evil child, daughter of demons and marked as a sinner. I tried to
be good; I tried to become the angelic daughter she wanted, but
anything I did was wrong."
"Karen, I..."
"She must have been insane, but how was I to know that? Part of
me loved her even when she held my head in the sink, letting the
water rise until I couldn't breathe. That's how she tried to kill my
demons." She stopped for a moment to look back at the smiling face of
the statue behind her. "I wish I had a mother like that... You know,
it's not even worth the effort to scream when you're being drowned.
I'm sure you would understand that." Karen's voice is measured and
calm, in contrast to the violence of her story. She speaks as if it
were someone else's life. On impulse, I grab her wrist. She stiffens
slightly, but otherwise is still.
"I understand more than you think. I was an outsider in my own
home, too. My mother never hated me - that would have been too much
trouble. She just looked at me with dead, apathetic eyes and waited
for the day I left home. I don't feel anything for her." That's the
most I've ever told anyone about myself. I drop her hand, trying to
make some sort of contact with her. For a moment, I saw that same
uncaring detachment in Karen that I had lived with through my
childhood. I want to explain myself to her, justify the things I had
done and make her see me as something other than a Dragon. I don't
want her to hate me.
"Maybe we have more in common than we thought."
"Hmm." I let go of her hand, but our fingers were still touching
across the wooden bench. I have the sudden urge to hold her hand,
like a nervous teenager in the back of a movie theatre. I have no
shortage of beautiful women in my life, but Karen feels alive... I
could leave now and go back to Satsuki, with a scowl permanently
etched in her young face; or I could go to Kanoe, who wants nothing
more than someone to worship her. There are women more beautiful than
Karen, not to say that she isn't beautiful. There are ones with even
more horrible pasts - Tokyo is the kind of city you come to so you
can lose your past in a sea of anonymous faces. I could leave now,
but I don't want to.
"I should be going... I'll be late for work," she
whispers. "It's been nice talking to you, Mr. Kigai... perhaps you
could walk me to the door..."
"Gladly, Miss Kasumi." We make our way back through the worn
aisle of the church, walking a bit more slowly than usual. We past at
the threshold, and I open the door out onto the street. At least it's
stopped raining, but the neon lights of the restaurant next door give
the puddles a garish color. I hold the door open; ladies first. Karen
seems hesitant to go, resting her hand on the other side of the
doorframe. The church suddenly seems a lot warmer than the dark
street. Karen mumbles a "goodnight" and starts to walk through the
door.
"Karen..." I don't know what to say. Another step and we'll be
out of the church. Everything will go back to the way it was, and
we'll be enemies again. Fire and water. I just don't know what to
say. "Why don't we go have a drink, or something..." She stops at the
threshold, and I can see that I said the wrong thing.
"Yuuto..." She leans against the doorframe, as if all the
strength is out of her. I rest against the door itself, feeling the
heavy wood behind me. It's all we have to hold on to. Like drowning
people, we cling to the one thing that seems stable. "Under different
circumstances..."
"Maybe some other time, then." I smile, and she looks relieved.
She lets go of the doorframe, one foot through the doorway. Well,
that's it. Suddenly, she turns around, very close to me. You know,
the only thing behind a person's eyes is nerves and corneas and
blood. Still, looking into Karen's wide eyes, the dark color made
even more intense by the darkness and a shine that might be tears, I
can almost believe that I'm looking into the depths of the ocean; I'm
drowning.
"This never happened," she whispers. She places a hesitant kiss
on my cheek and disappears. I want to turn my head and follow her
with my eyes until she disappears into the crowd, but I don't. I
realise that standing like I am, with my back pressed up against the
door, I probably look like a crazy man. I don't have any reason to
stay there, so I let the door close quietly behind me as I slip back
out onto the streets of Tokyo. The only evidence of the afternoon's
rain is a few puddles, oily-slick and reflecting the multicolor
lights of Tokyo's shops. It's almost dark, but I don't feel like
going home. I don't know what I feel like doing.
I didn't even know I had a choice.
I think maybe I'll leave a message on Tomoe's answering machine,
later. I don't want her to worry about me.
At least it will all be over soon.
Authour: Akauzu-kun
[Yuuto's POV. Maybe he's not such a bad guy after all? Either way,
he's *cool*, even with his warped fashion sense.]
[Disclaimery stuff: Nothing is mine. I'm a college student, I can't
afford anything anyway.]
It's raining. Tokyo has never looked good in the rain. The
colors seem to run together, like makeup on a woman that's been
crying. I suppose even the city, bright and full of life as it's said
to be, has the same washed-out air as the rest of the earth. I'm a
salaryman, among other things: I know the feeling. The planet's put
in its full shift, it's time for a break.
Whatever people that haven't found refuge in one shop or another
huddle together under umbrellas as if the rain could somehow hurt
them. It's just a little water - no harm in that, right? Yeah, I'd
know. Actually, with what Kusanagi has told me, plain old everyday
rain has more nasty stuff in it that any elemental I could conjure
up. Maybe it's not such a good idea to be walking out in it. From the
articles in Kusanagi's environmental brochures, the chemicals could
probably melt my hair. I join up with a group of businessmen cowering
under a bus stop shelter - I know they're businessmen because their
suits are better than mine. I'm just a humble civil servant, but I've
got an eye for the finer things of life. After all, when the world's
coming to an end, what do you have to live for besides pleasure?
It's Friday afternoon and I am bored. I could always go down to
the Government Building; Kanoe's always good for some fun. Even
Satsuki, in her bizarre sociopathic way, is interesting, but that
computer of hers just gives me chills. I have this feeling that one
day I'll end up getting killed by my own pocket calculator if I'm not
careful. The bus comes and picks up the other people standing under
the shelter, but I don't feel like getting on. Fuuma - Kamui,
whatever - hasn't exactly given me the timetables for this apocalypse
business, but I've got the feeling that we don't have long before the
final confrontation. I always thought I'd have a lot to take care of
before it happened. You know, one last party before the entire planet
goes to hell? But I don't. I ought to call my sister, tell her I'm
okay, something like that.
Tomoe. If she knew what I was doing here, what would she think?
She's got a nice apartment in the suburbs with that fiancée of hers,
she's got a new job, she's got plans for the future. If there is a
future. How could I explain myself to her when I can't even explain
it to myself? Maybe I won't call. I don't want to trouble her.
The bus lets off a new group of people, so I leave the stop and
continue down the street. I'm in one of the older areas of Tokyo now,
without all the glass skyscrapers and department stores. It's still
raining pretty hard, as if the sky is breaking open. Besides for
Tomoe, I have no one that I need to see. Dad died when I was a kid,
Mom lives with her sister in Yokohama - I ought to visit her too, but
that would be worse than talking to Tomoe. We have nothing to say to
each other. She always knew there was something strange about me: her
eyes were always suspicious, probing. It was almost an anticlimax
when she discovered me doing my little "tricks" with water. She had
stopped trusting me years before that. I don't want Tomoe to look at
me with those eyes.
Ugh. Rain makes me go all philosophical. I duck into sheltered
doorway, shaking the water off my jacket. I hope the shopkeeper
doesn't mind. It's too quiet to be a shop, though. Judging by all the
crosses, its some kind of church. Either that or Fuuma - Kamui,
whatever - did the decorating. It's a tiny little church, wedged in
between a ladies' clothing shop and a Korean restaurant. There's not
enough sun filtered through the narrow alleys to illuminate the
stained-glass windows, so somebody put in fluorescent lamps. Nice
touch - kind of reminds me of the dentist. At least it's dry.
Nobody's here, so I walk down the main aisle rather aimlessly.
The carpet is greyish and worn down, but I think it used to be red.
It's so quiet that my footsteps echo in the dead air, even muffled as
they are by the thin carpeting. I can hear myself breathing, a little
quicker now as my senses try to tell me something...
I'm not alone.
Then I realise that I've screwed up badly this time. She's here.
In two seconds she could have a kekkai up, and toast me to a crisp.
Yuuto flambé. I'm not even carrying weapons, it would be her power
versus mine - and I'm a little out of practice. She's sitting still
in the second row from the front, but I know she feels me here. I
can't run.
So I do the only gentlemanly thing - I walk up and take a seat
next to her. I might as well go out in style.
"Hey," I greet her, lamely. What exactly do you say to your
antithesis, the woman who's probably going to attempt killing you
within the next five minutes? Something better than "Hey", I guess.
At least she's as speechless as I am.
"Yuuto," she manages after a few moments. Her voice is low and
deceptively calm, which somehow makes her seem even more dangerous.
She's wearing a long coat, undoubtably concealing whatever costume
she wears for work as a soapland girl. Not that this is any time to
let my mind wander in that direction.
"Karen." Wavy brown hair covers one of her eyes, but the other
burns with fury. She raises her hands to form a kekkai, but lowers
them before anything happens.
"I won't kill you here." Her tone is resigned, and she closes
her eyes. "Out of respect for this place, I won't be the first to
attack. I don't know what you believe in, Mr. Kigai, but I suggest
that you thank whatever gods protect you for a small mercy." She
turns her gaze towards a statue of a mother and child. The Virgin.
Somehow, the juxtaposition of the soapland girl and the Christian
holy woman doesn't seem out of place. Karen's eyes are now as blank
as the marble ones of the statue.
I don't know what gods to thank, so I thank Karen. She looks at
me with an expression almost akin to surprise.
"Nothing personal," she replies. "We each have our own causes
and our own reasons." She returns her stare to the statues, the
windows, anything but me. We spend the next few moments like that, in
total silence. I can hear the hum of the fluorescent lights like
locusts in the back of my mind.
"I didn't choose to do this, you know," I say, just to relieve
the silence. "It's just a job."
"No great sweeping revenge against humanity? No tortured past?"
She leans back in her seat, looking at the ceiling now. "Somehow I
expected something more dramatic from you."
"I told you, it's just a job." She looks at me now, the anger
returning.
"Just a job? You make it sound like you're the innocent in this.
Killing people just because Kanoe told you to? I might not be able to
feel the pain of the earth, but I can feel the pain of the people
hurt in this stupid war."
"And you think I don't?" She didn't think I did, I can see it in
her face. She doesn't trust me. It's the same look my mother gave me
when I was younger. "They do more to hurt themselves then I've ever
done." Satsuki's logic there. It's cold and I don't like it but it's
true.
"Maybe so." She's real quiet now, staring at the worn carpet.
That must mean I've won, but I don't get any enjoyment out of it.
Still, the silence bothers me.
"So..." I begin.
"Don't say anything," she interrupts. "You're the last person I
want to talk to." So I don't say anything. I lean back on the pew,
futilely trying to find a comfortable position to sit in.
"Don't you have a witty comeback?" Her tone is neutral, maybe a
little forced. She's still looking at the floor; looking at the
places where the backing shows through because so many feet have
trampled it over the years.
"No."
"I find that hard to believe."
"What do you want me to say?" She stands up suddenly, her coat
swirling about her as she turns towards me.
"You can leave."
"I don't want to leave." I'm being difficult. It's a bad habit.
Karen narrows her eyes, and I can almost feel the kekkai flaring
around her. Just as suddenly, it's gone.
"If you're going to stay, then we'll have to start over. As
strangers. Normal people, without all this destiny crap." She thrusts
out her hand violently - not to summon kekkai, but in a
handshake. "Hi. My name is Karen Kasumi. Nice to meet you."
I stand up too - you should always stand up for a lady.
Especially one you don't know. Pretty confident that she won't kill
me yet, I take the hand she offered. It's cool, and not as soft as I
would have imagined. Her fingernails are red-lacquered, and very
shiny. They match the short red dress partially hidden by her coat.
"I'm Yuuto Kigai. Nice to meet you too."
"...Yeah. Well... damn, Yuuto, I don't even know how to make a
normal conversation anymore."
"We could always talk about the weather."
"It's crappy." We can still hear the rain drumming lightly on
the thin roof.
"I agree. Look, we agreed on something. Next thing you know,
your Kamui and my Kamui will be getting drunk together." Karen almost
smiles, but it is quickly stifled.
"They're just kids. Not like us. I remember what it was like to
grow up different from everyone else, not knowing what I was and not
having any control. I would have given anything to be normal." She
pauses to raise her hand in a mock-dramatic pose. "God, I sound like
an angsting teenager all over again." I laugh to myself, knowing too
well what she meant.
"So what brings you to church on a Friday, anyhow? I thought
that was a Sunday thing."
"My mother would have said it was an every day thing. She was
very... faithful. I couldn't make her funeral, back in San Francisco.
My uncle called me this morning... she died from one of those rare
cancers. Even if I could go I don't know what I would do. She was the
kind of woman that is best remembered three thousand miles away."
"I'm sorry about your mother."
"Why? I spent the last ten years wishing she would die. I hated
her. I still hate her. But she's still my mother."
I don't know what to say to that.
"My father had the right idea - he left when I was three and
came back to Japan. Maybe he's dead too - I don't care. He left me
with her. For sixteen years I believed what she told me - that I was
an evil child, daughter of demons and marked as a sinner. I tried to
be good; I tried to become the angelic daughter she wanted, but
anything I did was wrong."
"Karen, I..."
"She must have been insane, but how was I to know that? Part of
me loved her even when she held my head in the sink, letting the
water rise until I couldn't breathe. That's how she tried to kill my
demons." She stopped for a moment to look back at the smiling face of
the statue behind her. "I wish I had a mother like that... You know,
it's not even worth the effort to scream when you're being drowned.
I'm sure you would understand that." Karen's voice is measured and
calm, in contrast to the violence of her story. She speaks as if it
were someone else's life. On impulse, I grab her wrist. She stiffens
slightly, but otherwise is still.
"I understand more than you think. I was an outsider in my own
home, too. My mother never hated me - that would have been too much
trouble. She just looked at me with dead, apathetic eyes and waited
for the day I left home. I don't feel anything for her." That's the
most I've ever told anyone about myself. I drop her hand, trying to
make some sort of contact with her. For a moment, I saw that same
uncaring detachment in Karen that I had lived with through my
childhood. I want to explain myself to her, justify the things I had
done and make her see me as something other than a Dragon. I don't
want her to hate me.
"Maybe we have more in common than we thought."
"Hmm." I let go of her hand, but our fingers were still touching
across the wooden bench. I have the sudden urge to hold her hand,
like a nervous teenager in the back of a movie theatre. I have no
shortage of beautiful women in my life, but Karen feels alive... I
could leave now and go back to Satsuki, with a scowl permanently
etched in her young face; or I could go to Kanoe, who wants nothing
more than someone to worship her. There are women more beautiful than
Karen, not to say that she isn't beautiful. There are ones with even
more horrible pasts - Tokyo is the kind of city you come to so you
can lose your past in a sea of anonymous faces. I could leave now,
but I don't want to.
"I should be going... I'll be late for work," she
whispers. "It's been nice talking to you, Mr. Kigai... perhaps you
could walk me to the door..."
"Gladly, Miss Kasumi." We make our way back through the worn
aisle of the church, walking a bit more slowly than usual. We past at
the threshold, and I open the door out onto the street. At least it's
stopped raining, but the neon lights of the restaurant next door give
the puddles a garish color. I hold the door open; ladies first. Karen
seems hesitant to go, resting her hand on the other side of the
doorframe. The church suddenly seems a lot warmer than the dark
street. Karen mumbles a "goodnight" and starts to walk through the
door.
"Karen..." I don't know what to say. Another step and we'll be
out of the church. Everything will go back to the way it was, and
we'll be enemies again. Fire and water. I just don't know what to
say. "Why don't we go have a drink, or something..." She stops at the
threshold, and I can see that I said the wrong thing.
"Yuuto..." She leans against the doorframe, as if all the
strength is out of her. I rest against the door itself, feeling the
heavy wood behind me. It's all we have to hold on to. Like drowning
people, we cling to the one thing that seems stable. "Under different
circumstances..."
"Maybe some other time, then." I smile, and she looks relieved.
She lets go of the doorframe, one foot through the doorway. Well,
that's it. Suddenly, she turns around, very close to me. You know,
the only thing behind a person's eyes is nerves and corneas and
blood. Still, looking into Karen's wide eyes, the dark color made
even more intense by the darkness and a shine that might be tears, I
can almost believe that I'm looking into the depths of the ocean; I'm
drowning.
"This never happened," she whispers. She places a hesitant kiss
on my cheek and disappears. I want to turn my head and follow her
with my eyes until she disappears into the crowd, but I don't. I
realise that standing like I am, with my back pressed up against the
door, I probably look like a crazy man. I don't have any reason to
stay there, so I let the door close quietly behind me as I slip back
out onto the streets of Tokyo. The only evidence of the afternoon's
rain is a few puddles, oily-slick and reflecting the multicolor
lights of Tokyo's shops. It's almost dark, but I don't feel like
going home. I don't know what I feel like doing.
I didn't even know I had a choice.
I think maybe I'll leave a message on Tomoe's answering machine,
later. I don't want her to worry about me.
At least it will all be over soon.