The cup falls, coffee spreads on the floor and dirts your shoes along with it.
You don't even notice, your gaze still on the tv screen on which the news are being shown. They're talking about something else now, though you didn't notice that either.
«Are you okay, sir? Is there something wrong?»
You slowly come back to yourself, you recognize the bar you're in. You see a worried waiter next to you, the coffee cup in pieces on the floor, the black liquid everywhere around your feet. It takes you a few seconds to realize what happened and whisper a sorry to the waiter, who's ready to assure you.
You pay and leave the place, taking any road. The picture you saw on the news keep haunting your thoughts, it totally occupied your mind.
«Her fingerprints were found on the gun.»
The picture of a young girl lying on the ground, her dress soaked with blood around the stomach.
A single, fatal shotgun.
«She committed suicide, feeling guilty for the theft and the murders. Her name was Masami Hirota.»
That's not true though, you know all too well, what they said was utterly wrong. You recognized her in an instant, you suffered seeing her beautiful face disfigured in pain. The dead woman wasn't Masami, but Akemi. Your Akemi.
Out of instinct, you take out your phone. You got a message from her just some days ago, after more than a year of silence. You open it, again.
If I'm able to escape the organization like this, will you go out with me as my real boyfriend?
That's one the first tear comes out, treacherous. You can't stop it, you don't even mind.
You close back the phone with an abrupt snap and vent your pain punching the wall on your right. You forthwith feel sharp pain, blood among your knuckles.
Why, Akemi?
It was you who put her in danger, you know all too well. In a way, you're responsible for her death.
It's something you had already dealt with. Your mission was to use her to get to them, and you did, even though you really fell in love with her.
What you hadn't expected was she'd get it.
It could be funny if it wasn't that tragic. You, Akai Shuichi, clever like few others, couldn't read Akemi Miyano until you didn't openly tell her your secret. Just then you realized she already knew, and asked the same question tormenting you now: why?
You enter an alley, raging on yourself. Other tears followed the first, you erase them abruptly rubbing with the back of your hand.
What is the unusual sound you hear out of the blue? You stop on your feet, slowly rise your gaze.
You're paralyzed.
She's in front of you… higher up. She impedes your way.
«Akemi» you whisper, incredulous. You hint a step back, then shake your head.
What is it? You got hallucinations now?
What you see can't really be anything else. She's dead, she can't be there.
You know that, still you enjoy her image a few seconds more.
You meet that false Akemi's eyes, you resist them. You go closer, ignoring the unlikeliness of the situation, wishing to just catch the fated chance you didn't dare hoping for.
«Why?» you say, still once more. It isn't like you repeating yourself, yet it isn't the first time she makes you do something unlike you either.
The delusion smiles. «You know why» you see her whisper; you hear her voice, you know it's her. It's Akemi .
Then she turns. You catch up to her: her eyes are closed, she moves her lips and swings her head following an unknown rhythm. It's like she were singing, but you can't hear her words.
She's so beautiful.
You lower your glare and fix it on the ground, staying still for a time you couldn't define.
Until you hear her.
Akemi's voice, inside your head.
You don't immediately get the words, yet when you do, you feel a grasp on your chest.
You rise your eyes back on her, but you don't find her anymore.
She's gone, this time forever.
You find yourself glaring at the sky. If there's Heaven, she's sure to be there now.
You go back walking, hands in your pockets. You're not sure you can catch up to her, still, you know her shadow won't leave you ever.
A last gaze up high, you imagine her there, amid the clouds – you smile.
«Now you're there, sing like an angel… unforgivable sinner».
She is, isn't she?
She succeeded the most unforgivable deed, seizing your heart.
Perhaps though, it's only fair.
Going back to your flat, you think – know – you won't ever forget her, while her voice keeps singing in your head. Those words will torture you long, you're sure – yet is it really torture?
«I love you.»