The name of the story is inspired from the movie. However, the story itself has nothing to do with the acutal movie. It will be a bit sad at first; but don't let me ruin it. Read on...

***** - notes a major scene or time shift

*** - notes a minor scene shift, like just location

Prologue

She was lying on a beach in the middle of nowhere. There were no signs of people in any direction other then herself and her puppy on the blanket, laying down on a lazy spring afternoon in the south of France.

She had come to that spot time and time again. He had promised that he would be there one afternoon and many afternoons before. They were to meet on that exact spot where she was.

But he never came.

He had not been there for days now, and she knew that he was not coming. First days, then weeks, later months and then a year had passed. Each day she had come to that same spot and waited, hoping the he would arrive. In her head she knew he never would, but that never stopped her heart from hoping.

She looked away from the ocean and at her watch instead. The date was exactly a year ago. She felt the tears pulls at her eyes, but she refused to cry. She would not break down again. She had only done that once and promised herself then, never ever again.

The memories didn't hurt any less then they did a year ago though. While this day was more significant then any of the others, she couldn't help but think of him almost all the time on any other one though. However, this day was worse then any of the others.

A year ago, on that day he had promised that he would acutally meet her there. She had intended to meet him and so she waited and waited by the ocean, but he never came. Instead, he died - which is why it hurt so much. It was no wonder thehn that she couldn't do anything but remember those tragic events of that day a year ago...

******

She arrived in Menton after a long flight into Paris, followed by a connecting in flight into Nice. He had arranged for a car to take her from the airport to the hotel.

When she arrived, the attendants took her bags and gave her the key to the room. There was a note waiting for her on her bed in the suite. It was scrawled out on a photograph that had a picture of a churning sea and lightning.

***

Dearest Li,

I've been to this spot so many times and waited for you for so many days. Across from the hotel is the beach. There's a rock there and our initials are carved into it. Wait for me.

Love always,

Ken

***

She did as she was told. She changed into something more appropriate and locked the door behind her.

On the beach across from the hotel there was a rock and on that rock a rose. She picked up the flower and underneath found her initials and Ken's. She traced her fingers in the grooves with her free hand, feeling the memories of a prior night when another hand, his hand, had carved those initials. It made her smile.

This was the spot – the spot that he had told her about so many times in their phone conversations. She twirled the rose in her fingers, the soft pink petals like the feel of his skin on her hands. She was aware of every sensation around her. She breathed in the salty air. She looked at the leather sandals she had just donned before coming out to the beach and she smiled as she felt the sand squish underneath her toes. The moment was almost perfection.

The hours passed and the perfect moment was never completed though. She walked up and down the beach. She carried her sandals after a point and waded in the ocean. The water came up to her thighs and she was glad she wore her cut off denim shorts.

She watched the sun set over the ocean, the purples and pinks like a spray of blackberries and raspberries on her counter when she was in the middle of cooking. She pulled her sweater around her, burying her hands and knuckles in the cuffs to keep her warm. She looked around and sighed; he still wasn't there. The stars came out and the wind whipped her ponytail and she waited.

She waited until midnight and then she went to the hotel to get some sleep. He had never come. She was angry and hurt that he had not arrived, and those were the thoughts the she went to sleep with, buried deep beneath the duvet and within herself.

***

She woke in the morning to a knock on her door. The lady who had checked her in the afternoon prior was there. A policeman accompanied her.

"Miss, will you come with me to the station?" he asked.

"What's wrong?" she whispered.

"Please get dressed and come with me."

She nodded and closed the door silently. She dressed quickly in a long skirt and pulled on her sweater from the day before, gabbed her purse and passport.

***

She sat in a chair at the morgue in the local hospital. The coroner held a raised sheet showing her his head. "Est-ce qu'il s'appelle Ken?"

She didn't cry or flinch. She just stared as his face, unbelieving. His face was so silent, but there was a smile on his face. He was as beautiful as the last time she had seen him. Even in death his beauty remained. "Oui," she whispered finally.

The policeman behind her nodded and the coroner lowered the sheet. The police man pulled at her gently and escorted her from the room.

He led her into interrogation room. "Un café?"

"Oui," she whispered. The police man prepared it for her and left the room.

The police man came around to the two way mirror by which another man was standing. "How is she?" asked the detective.

"Stunned, to say the least."

"I better get this over with," he said. In his hand he clutched a small bag of personal effects.

The detective sighed, sipped his cup of coffee and entered the room.

She clutched her cup. The detective entered.

"Thank you for coming to identify the body," he said.

She just nodded.

"You are what relation?" he asked.

"A friend," she whispered. She mustered some courage. She had to know. "How did he die?"

"A car wreck. He wouldn't have lived long after the wreck. The doctor suspects he was only conscious for ten or fifteen minutes after the fact. He wouldn't have acutally been able to feel pain either, since his back was snapped."

Lita nodded.

The man continued. "We have spoken with his parents, and the body is to be shipped back to Japan. Most of his personal effects are going to be mailed back as well. There were two things though that we have not mentioned to his family. They were for you."

She raised her head. The man placed a post card and a small box on the table. She took the post card and flipped it over.

***

Li,

I'm so sorry I won't be able to keep my promise to you. I don't have much time. I'm afraid I won't be able to ask you what I've always wanted. I know in my heart though that you would have said yes. Always remember, I love you.

Ken

She took the box and clutched it in her fingers. She was afraid of knowing what was in there; esepcially if it was what she expected. She opened it. Her hand came to her mouth and all she could do was sob…

*****

That was the only time she had cried, she remembered. After that she promised herself that she never would again.

She held that post card in her hands on the beach as a testament to his memory and the time that had passed – of why she had come that summer and why she was still there.

They had not seen each other for a long time. They had been best friends, like brother and sister, and then later lovers for a short while before he left for France for art school at the end of her last year in junior high.

There was no choice about the separation they had endured; there had been school, jobs, and then just life. Somehow over the years, when the schooling had finally finished and he had found himself a job in Europe, just after she had finished university, they had promised to meet again after years of long separation punctuated by infrequent visits.

At last they were going to have a real vacation – to catch up and see if their feelings were still the same. He had picked the place where they were going to meet and vacation – the place where she sat now. A littler hotel and a rock by the sea with their initials on it marked the spot.

He had carved those initials when there had been a terrific storm one night out on the ocean. He had seen it while visiting the town when he was staying in that hotel. He had said that the storm reminded him of her and so he photographed it. The picture she held in her hands was the one from the night of the storm. It had also been turned into the note that had graced her bed upon her arrival in Menton a year ago.

She knew why he had chosen that spot though. That storm had been everything that reminded him of her. He had phoned her that night and told her about the storm and how he wanted to meet her there. He had been so excited about all of it. It was that memory that they both clung to when times were hard. Whenever they had been sad, he would remind her of that night and he would promise that they would vacation there together some day.

That was why she had come. The time had finally arrived when they could be together. So he had planned it. He had bought the tickets, made all the arrangements for her to get there and so she had. But he never did.

And that was what finally broke her, the amazonian warrior of strength, beauty and lightning.

When she found out about his death the next day she could not bring herself to leave. This was the place she felt closest to him. Finally, when she thought she was emotionally capable of it though she never did. She never had the chance to say good-bye and so she was forever destined to remain.

The poor owner of the hotel took pity on her after his death. She spent the first two weeks of her booking distraught, sitting by the ocean or curled up in bed, keeping entirely to herself. She didn't write home or accept any phone calls. She didn't cry. He haunted her memory all the time during that period and locked her deep within herself where almost no one could reach.

Eventually someone got in. The only help she ever accepted came from a complete stranger. Finally the booking on her room ran out. When it did and the owner came to kick her out, he found her curled up in bed incapable of responding. Upon finding her in that shape, the plans of kicking her out were thrown out the window and the owner couldn't help but take pity on her.

Instead of leaving her desolate on the beach, the owner took her in his arms and slowly, through several days of coddling and gentleness won her over. Two weeks later the owner had her out of bed and responding to the world.

When she was well finally the owner gave her a job and offered her a place to stay. There was no question about whether or not she was going to go home. The thought never occurred to her and the owner knew better then to ask. So she stayed, worked, and tried to forget him, but his memory continued within her.

*****

Lita knew that the reason she had come to that spot was to find her soul mate; although it was not be as she expected. Ironically fate had a different answer. Fate had laid a tragic chain of events in order to bring about something else entirely for her. She never would of known that on the day in question, that tragic things in her life were about to turn around.

Sometimes its only through an alteration in a carefully laid path that people make fortunate discoveries completely by accident ...

And that's serendipity.

Forget all the jumble about who's speaking which language when. I decided to write some in French because I felt like it. At the time in question though, on the day she's on the beach she can speak both French and Japanese. (I mean she's been living there for a year by then). I'm going to generally write in English though. So just assume they are speaking whatever language you like... it doesn't really matter to the story line.