Remains
It does not matter how harsh things are, or how much more than they used to be. Kaneda never stops.
He never flinches, he never gets lost. He never pushes the brakes when he does not need to. He survived in this town, where even the ground could eat you when you fall — he had seen too much, before it had the chance to happen.
He can only clench his teeth, then march on, on and on.
But maybe — he still wonders, in this blinding sun that shines without mercy on the shards of their lives — maybe it all truly changes when you are trapped.
The white nothing and the void that sucked him down, well, that did feel like chains and torture. Kaneda is almost positive; he may have touched, even if for a second, the very same horrors as him. And he cannot tell for sure, but this he does remember. It was unbearable.
No control on himself, no meaning, not a chance to fight in the slightest. There was just one thing, him, the whole thing — and he was there, and he was Tetsuo and Kaneda, Kaneda, Kaneda.
Screams and pain is what that thing was made of, what he fell right through — it would have been so easy to get lost and never return. Walking on this asphalt, if almost alone and forever scarred, still feels like a miracle.
It was different, terrifying, unforgettable. And despite having known him for years — they had a whole damn lot to share, he and the frail kid who ended up tearing Neo Tokyo apart — he is aware of how much of him he will never see.
He burst in front of his eyes, and wrapped him in his whole being. So out of his self, yet so engulfed in it — lost, unstoppable, he still reached for the people he held dearest. He had no veils nor borders. For the first time — it was probably, surely the first, and the thought terrifies him — he was seeing what Tetsuo was made of. And it was not enough at all.
But now it is too late, Kaneda remembers. The role he plays lies within these streets, among the steel bones of the buildings, in the rubbish and the corpses nobody has removed yet. Two wheels, two friends, a yellow wake in the night — his life once again belongs to Kaneda, and Tetsuo is no longer a part of it.
He has no room for foolish hopes, for reminiscing, or clinging to what once was. Things have happened — somehow, at some point in those few days, they did a wonderful job with being totally screwed up.
To this day, in the vague impression of peace they were finally given, the rage that grows in him at the thought feels a bit too strong. But he cannot forget, nor can he remove it. He was gone like that — leaving behind a disaster, and a few memories for him to keep alone.
He cannot guess, he does not want to. However, in the rare moments when he tries, Kaneda is closer to the truth that he will ever know.
And if he could see beyond his dimension, across time and space, he would complete the thought that bothers him the most —
— that it took him one universe, not without dozens of human lives, to remember he still had a friend.
I finished watching Otomo's masterpiece today, and... quite surprisingly, I enjoyed it a lot. I really didn't know I could survive the gore without blinking once AND enjoying the movie too, feel way more moved than disgusted in the end. Just... mysteries of the self.
I guess I need the manga in my life. I guess I really, really need it.