A/N: This is my first fanfic.

"Mom, do you love dad?"

Harumi's curious eyes twinkled underneath the sun's light. With her feet awkwardly splayed on the front porch, she rolled over to her mothers side until she found a more comfortable position.

Laughing a little, Akari looked fondly at her only daughter. At the tender age of five, she had learned to question many things, even including the ones she most likely knew the answer to. The once tiny fingers were slowly becoming larger, now inching their way up to her palm.

"Well, what do you think the answer is?"

"Yes?"

A small smile was tugging as the corners of her lips. Sometimes she envied how young and innocent the little girl was, her optimism warming the atmosphere like pure sunshine. The wind gently blew through her long brown hair as she reached for another slice of apple, nibbling it slowly.

"But the letter you keep in your room. I saw you looking at it. I can't understand the words but I can read names. Takaki. See?"

She grinned, like she had just won a huge prize. With her hands sticky with apple juice, the young girl quickly smeared it on her white summer dress.

"Harumi, you know I don't like it when you do that," Akari scolded.

Sighing, she closed her eyes for a few seconds. The painful, nostalgic feeling that her memories gave her were slowly diminishing with time, also becoming a little more bearable. Spring was a time for reminiscing and remembering. Sometimes forgetting can leave an even bigger scar, and she knew that was why she loved springtime the most.

"I kept that because it was too important to throw away."

The light and dark hues of the sky continued to mix to form a breathtaking blue; the clouds like scattered wisps of cotton. Petals swirled and danced as they imitated autumn leaves, their color never straying far from the familiar light pink.

Beneath the endless sky a large sakura tree towered over a silent figure, the shade creating a disfigured shadow to keep him company.

The sound of crinkling paper could be made out as he threw his crumpled drawings a few feet away from where he rested. Takaki couldn't help but exhale audibly in frustration, his face scrunched up in a frown as the papers continued to compile messily beside him.

One after another, his failures seemed to add up. The mountain of trash taunted him, reminding him of false hope after false hope. After losing his job as a computer programmer, he was unsure of what to do. Seeking help, his friend generously offered him a job as a graphic designer at a nearby company. Opportunities arose, and it was a chance to have a fresh start with a clean slate. Isn't that what he wanted? A steady job and a normal paced life?

He squinted, focusing his attention on the sakura tree and his sketchpad. Gradually the pencil moved, marking the white paper as he drew the image of the tree in his mind: tall and grand, with petals floating and falling like a scented shower amidst an isolated meadow. The invisible breeze rustled the edges of his work, which he soon straightened out as he collected his tools.

Something ached inside of him. It wasn't his worn-out hands that tired from their constant use, but something far deeper. Every day he continued to lie, telling himself that the ache would disappear, and everyday it would grow larger. Only when he stopped fighting the pain does he start to remember.

The bright glow of his computer screen illuminated his face, leaving everything silent save the sound of his pen rapping on the surface of his desk. Flickering eratically for a moment, the screen revealed the e-mail that he would never send.

Akari,

Do you know how precious a second is? But it goes by too quickly. Our lives continue to pass by us—we blink and then it's gone. I sometimes think to myself: are you happy? Did you stop writing because you've moved on? The more I think about what you might be doing, the less I want to know. Maybe because if I start again, I'll never stop.

From my window I can see the Tanegashima stars—they light up the whole city. Yesterday I went outside to clear my mind, and ended up laying on the soft grass, trying to count them. I smiled unconsciously, thinking to myself that you must be gazing up at the same ones wherever you were. Although it was fall and I was outside in shorts and just a t-shirt, I wasn't cold at all. I was content. At that moment, I felt only inches away from you.

I wonder why I still write these. Even though I know you won't write back, it gives me a sense of relief. I'm afraid that everything reminding me of you will evaporate if I stop altogether. Did you know? I kept every single letter you've written to me. Did you do the same, or do you think it's silly? I read them over and over again, memorizing the lines and questions that you asked me. They're engraved too deeply in my mind for me to forget. Despite knowing you probably have a family now, and knowing you've moved on - I would give the world to simply turn back time. Is that too selfish?

- Takaki