Tamako
I wish he wasn't gone.
I wish I was in his place.
But I'm not. And… No amount of wishing will change that.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I struggle to retain my composure, my hands trembling around a cup as I stare wordlessly out the window. His is ever-so present but closed shut. It's strange, looking at it now. It's strange to know that I'd never see him on the other side again.
I… I wish we were talking on our string phones, rather than me holding mine alone like a fool. On the contrary, I wish we were just speaking to each other.
I miss his voice.
I miss his smile.
I miss his eyes.
I miss everything of him.
Mochizou's in a box. His body lies still, and there's no thoughts in his mind. No love. No anything. I'm certain he doesn't even acknowledge the fact that he's dead.
Mochizou's dead.
I hate that I couldn't recognize his feelings those years ago. I hate how I was so absorbed in the market that I didn't realize the presence of the one person who loved me more than anything and anyone else in the entire universe. I hate how I hurt him so much and how my dense self couldn't articulate that.
I hate myself.
My mind pictures his lifeless body once more in the box, his face wearing the stiff grimace of death. His mouth clamped shut, although at the time of the incident it was open, its chin receding as though he were caught in a moment of screaming. And he was. In that shrill scream, even if it wasn't quite one actually but rang loud and clear, was my name. Mine. That's a regret I'll never forget.
Do you ever think that maybe, if you changed some variable before an event, would it change the outcome? But, suppose if everything changed because of that?
I bite my lower lip.
Everything seems so dull without him. To others, maybe not so much. They share the sadness of it all, too, but not as much as me. I don't wish to be selfish, though that's how I really believe. I think that I'm the most upset over this. To my astonishment, business went on as usual. Not to my astonishment, however, Mochizou's father closed his shop days after his son's death. He still lived in it, though.
Midori tells me that he'll always be in my heart, but he won't. I don't want him trapped in my heart. I want him to be free, which he wasn't when he was in love with me. He was trapped and didn't know how to leave, didn't know how to move on from this infatuation. It's my fault. Instead of being trapped in my heart, I need for him to be across from my window. That particular smile gracing his gentle features as he excitedly speaks to me, with me beaming and telling him I love him over and over again. Then his silly yet lovable grin would stretch even farther.
You know, they say that when someone dies, the first thing you forget of them is their voice. It's true, because already the memory of his voice is gone.
Tamako really loves me, I yearn for him to say to me.
My stomach churning like I drank rancid milk, I harshly chuck the string phones over to the corner of the room, left to collect dust till I feel like retrieving it. It doesn't adhere the scent of him anymore, because I've been hanging onto it so much that it now only smells of me.
So I tuck my knees to my chest, pressing my face against the soft fabric of my pajama pants and peer through the crevice. The sound of my cries for him send into the room and seem to emit an echo, transitioning into grieving hiccups to pain-racked sobs.
Teardrops roll down my cheeks as I continue to chant his name quietly instead, unable to release it all. Unable to release my emotions. All of my melancholy over his leaving.
Through the narrow opening of my thighs, I envision grass. Daisies are dancing in the light breeze, and if I snap my head up I can see Mochizou back when we were little. I can see him giving me a shy and sweet facial expression, between his fingers being one of the flowers. Moments later, I picture us running through the market square. He trips over an invisible object, and I slow my footsteps upon realizing he's not following me anymore. He was always a slow runner, but not that slow. I turn and notice he's on the verge of tears, clutching his knee and trying so badly to retain tranquility. However, I know him well enough that he isn't okay. I help him up by reaching down to grab his hand, pulling him to our identical height. Like baby steps, I carefully lead him back home so we can treat his minor injury.
I shake my head, trying to erase the memories, like an Etch-A-Sketch. It will be less painful if I do that, and hopefully I'll somehow forget about his death.
But the thing is, grief doesn't ever depart. You never really move on, because there's not a day you don't think about that person, is there?
There's not a day I don't think about Mochizou. Not a day that I regret it to the point I run upstairs, cry and refuse to go back down to face my small family.
I can't even make mochi anymore.
It reminds me too much of him.
Mochi Day, his birthday will probably be the worst day for me. It's his birthday and he won't be there to celebrate it.
I…
I-I didn't see the car, and neither did he. It wasn't until it was too late.
We were crossing the street when Mochizou was beginning to tell me something. He was clearly uncomfortable, though, and kept flusteredly flushing with each attempt. I was encouraging him, clasping my hands together and pleading for him to tell me. Then he took a deep breath and opened his mouth.
I heard the chilling squeal of tires, the crackling of it against the gravel. I wouldn't have reacted to it if had not Mochizou peered up and stopped walking with terror filled in his eyes. On instinct, I asked what was the matter and turned rather than not look at all.
Perhaps he did it on reflex, like all other options vanished from his head in an instant, because he grabbed my waist and off I flew many feet away. My back slammed into the bench, pain pounding all over, and granting me a horrifyingly perfect view of the scene that rolled out mere milliseconds after.
If I had a moment to think, I would have shut my eyes from seeing what happened later. However, terror restricted me from doing so. It forced me to helplessly watch as his body scraped against the street, my heart being snapped in half as a I heard a bone-crunching noise. I screamed his name, all my petrified fear bursting out.
"MOCHIZOU!"
My gaze was locked on him as he stiffly mouthed my name, and then uttered three words that any person would have been shocked beyond measure to hear.
"I love you," he whispered, his voice barely above one. At first, I couldn't comprehend what he said. Then, the realization hit me like a lorry-load of bricks. I couldn't give him a proper response to his late confession, because I was too afraid. I was too shaken up from what just happened before my very eyes and I couldn't even move.
He kept waiting for a response from me. Anything, really. Perhaps a reaction: a smile, a scowl, or what.
When nothing was given to him, he softly said my name again as if calling for me. Beckoning and begging for me to reply, a rejection or the complete opposite. He just wanted to know. But I couldn't say anything. It was stupid of me.
Then he didn't stir. Didn't move an inch.
If only I replied, if only I told him something back. Because honestly, underneath everything in my body and emotions, I loved him too. I was just too scared to tell. Too scared to love, simply put. Because love is truly a fragile thing.
Everyone I ever loved left me.
Mother, and now Mochizou was joining her.
You aren't supposed to cling.
But you can't help it.
"All I need is you. That's all I need to survive."
Poop I wrote in celebration of spring break. Ah, I'm really sorry if Tamako seems totally out of character - I mean, the show is so cheery and colorful, it's strange to write her so... sad. Know what I mean? Anyway, thank you for reading to the very end. c:
