Chapter 1:

Passing

Spirit of the Blade


Are you eating well?

Four simple words settled in the middle of a curved grey bubble, echoing more than the sentence they'd been strung into appeared. Traitorously, Tadashi's stomach answered with a deep yearning growl and sent a rush of heat to color his cheeks in utter embarrassment. He was grateful that the only witness to his shame was the elevator shaft, completely empty save for himself and the ticking floor counter uninterestedly shifting in the wall above his head. His muscles ached as he shifted the burdens tucked into the crook of his right arm once again, bracing his hip against the wall to wedge the thick photo album and twine-gathered flower stems against his side. In his left hand, his cellphone balanced precariously between palm and fingertips as his thumb wavered over the digital keys in search of a response.

Tadashi imagined nothing would keep his aunt from fussing over him entirely; but if he managed to convince her he was doing well just enough to keep her from telling Grandpa—

He blew out a sigh and tilted his head back against the elevator wall, staring up at the fluorescent lights under drawn eyelashes. How much longer would he have before all of the upkeep caught up to him? An ache formed in his chest, creeping deeper until he could almost feel it - the weariness - within the marrow of his bones. The days seemed to cycle by with similar routines: keeping Grandpa's house clean, trying not to fall asleep during classes, swallowing the bitterness of lying to his friends about visiting the hospital, apologizing for his shortcomings at his part-time job, then riding his bike against the biting breeze to the hospital before visiting hours ended. After spending weeks doing this, Tadashi thought it would have gotten easier somehow, but lately it felt as if existing was a routine in itself.

He tried to keep it together - remembering to smile when it was polite to do so, bite the inside of his cheek to keep from yawning during lectures, and assure Grandpa that he was definitely getting eight hours of sleep everynight. Tadashi's eyelids quivered and gradually slid shut as his body sagged against the wall, album and bouquet slipping further down to rest against the top of his thigh.

But the truth couldn't be further from that.

A trove of convenience store snacks and get-well cards from his classmates were stuffed deep down in his bag, and his messages were filled with a cycle of relatives calling and texting at least three times a week as if he'd dropped off the face of the Earth if they didn't hear from him.

He wasn't doing well; he was drowning and no one could know that. There was already enough concern going around as it was.

But I'll have to tell Grandpa soon, Tadashi thought. His aunt would eventually spill to Grandpa that he was living in their old house again, and find out that he lied about asking for permission. He had every right to stay there though. He grew up in that house and it felt wrong to let it stay there - empty, cold, and waiting for someone who hadn't been back in months.

Tadashi tilted his chin back, imagining the warm tears battered against the back of his eyes returning to their ducts. His lips quivered uncomfortably as he forced his gaze to settle on the screen once again, blinking past the blurriness of his vision as his thumb tapped on the screen.

I'm doing just fine.

His nostrils flared, chest tightening until his thumb landed on the SEND button and the message hurtled up into the thread. His fingers curled around the sides of his phone and squeezed until the crevices left pink indentations in his palm. The screen flickered black and reflected the scrunched nose, creased eyelids and quivering mouth of a child back at him. His heart leapt at the sight before he stowed his phone away just as the elevator's ascent began to slow.

Get it together, Tadashi, he reminded himself while hurriedly gathering all of his belongings. He fumbled the lacy edges on the album's spine, doing his best not to tear them apart when his fingernails caught on the tiny ribbons. It was a little too cute for his tastes but he remembered fondly watching as his grandma's wove the ribbons together as decorations on the album's plush cover. He lifted the album a little closer and breathed in the faint scent of oranges and sandalwood, cracking a small withering smile. Even years after his grandma passed on, the smell of her favorite incense still lingered on the pages.

The doors dinged to signal their opening and Tadashi lowered the album quickly, not wanting to be caught sniffing a book of all things. Though, he doubted it would have been the oddest thing the hospital staff saw these days. He stepped out of the elevator with a sympathetic smile to the familiar faces sitting in the waiting area, patients resting upon gurneys and ambling through the lobby area with walking aids greeted him in passing while their nearby attendants offered small smiles or waves. Everyone he greeted was welcomed by name, because how could he forget the faces of the ones hoping, dreaming, fighting to live another day with the ones they loved.

He'd spent so much time in the hospital over the last few months, even celebrating his birthday in the cafeteria with Grandpa insisting they have a feast and charge it to his discharge bill. Tadashi snorted at the memory, hugging the album closer to his chest as he walked up to the receptionist's desk where three young women were in the midst of answering calls and tapping away at a computer keyboard. The one positioned directly in the center, facing the elevators and stair landings, was Juri-san. Her long brown hair was tied up into a messy bun, loose locks falling over the backs of her cupped hands which shielded her face from view.

Tadashi's eyebrows knitted together, lips pinched in a tight frown. Was she crying? He certainly hoped not, though he would understand with how stresful their jobs were.

"I hope my grandpa didn't trouble you too much today, Juri-san," Tadashi said, softening his voice to hopefully keep from startling her too badly.

Juri-san's shoulders tensed when he spoke, stiffening like two broad mountain peaks before gradually falling as her hands slipped from her face. Red rimmed the curves of her droopy eyes, her half-parted lips ghosted by a sigh before pressing together into a sweet albeit weary curl. "You're early today, Tadashi-kun," she greeted, resting her hands on the desk. "Mm, as for Yakushi-san, he took his medicine today with only a little grumbling."

"Only a little huh?"

Grandpa could be a hassle to deal with sometimes. He had a particular way of liking things to be done and diverting from his usual routine meant trouble. However, he could never fault someone for just doin their job. As someone who worked all of his life and did the best he could for his family, Grandpa respected those who worked more than anything. It was a sign of good character, or so he always said, which put the nursing staff in a delicate position. On one hand, Grandpa would never get too rowdy with them because they were just doing their jobs. On the other hand, he would grumble and complain the whole time until he was left to sleep in peace.

That almost meant dealing with an old man's craftiness.

"Oooh, those are beautiful, Tadashi-kun!"

The woman to the left of Juri-san hung up the phone in her hand as she whirled around to smile at him, thick dark twin tails swaying behind her as she propped her elbows up on the desk which resulted in crowding into Juri-san's space. "You always pick the best bouquets, don't you? Do you like flowers?"

Tadashi felt his face warm. "Yes," he said, then quickly added, "I-I mean, my grandma did. I just kept up with it so I could take care of her garden."

The woman tucked her chin into the 'v' of her joined wrists, giving him a lazy smile. "Y'know, there's nothing wrong with boys liking flowers. It means you have a sweet and sensitive heart," she grinned teasingly, "Girls do like that kind of thing."

Tadashi's eyes widened, and Juri-san gave her co-worker a disapproving look.

"Sanae."

"It's true, Juri. Besides, Tadashi's almost at that age now, isn't he?"

While the two of them bickered, Tadashi heard a soft whisper of his name and glanced over to the third woman on Juri-san's right side. He shuffled over to where she sat with a curt nod offered in greeting. She returned it with one of her own, adjusting the glasses on her face when they slipped down her nose.

"Yakushi-san should be resting now. He had a quiet night."

Tadashi's lips curled on one side at the curtness of her report. "Thank you, Mei-san."

"You don't have to thank us for something like this."

"I know Grandpa pretty well, I think thanks from me is all you'll get."

Her dark eyes softened from behind her frames, a quiet laugh slipping past her lips. He smiled cheekily in return, gasping softly when the phones began to ring again. Mei-san gave him another nod before turning around to snap at Juri-san and Sanae-san to return to work. Both women jumped at the suddenness of her stern voice slicing through their chatter, and hastily went back to typing and answering. Tadashi watched them for a moment, the corners of his mouth faltering into a descent as he turned around to face one of the corridors leading off into the connecting hallways.

Though before he could take a step away from the desk, Mei-san called out to him, "Tadashi-kun."

His heart leapt at the suddenness, eyes cutting a half-glance over his shoulder, "Yes?"

She stared at him in silence for a moment, like her eyes could see right through him. What was she looking at exactly? Did he have something on his face from the lunch he'd scarfed down on the way here?

"Take care of yourself."

The bouquet's wrapping paper crinkled in his grip, indentations of the flower stems pressing uncomfortably against his palm as he blinked slowly. How did she know? Did she know? What did she know?

He closed his eyes, forcing a smile to plaster itself onto his lips.

"Don't worry, I am."

Turning away from Mei-san, Tadashi's eyes opened into slits. He walked on down the left, adjacent corridor with the album clutched tightly to his chest. People milled about around him going from room to room or chatting in pairs in the halls. A few children raced past in wheelchairs, gleefully calling to one another as they manuvered around passerby. When one nearly clipped his side, Tadashi pressed himself up against the wall and quirked a smile with an indulgent head shake. The boy called back an apology to him before seeming to recognize who he was.

"Hey guys, Tadashi-niichan is here!"

"Tadashi-niichan!" A little girl cried, waving both her hands as if he couldn't see her.

The boy grinned, cupping his hand around the side of his mouth, "Come and play with us after y'see Papa, okay?!"

Tadashi stepped away from the wall, and nodded. "Yeah, I'll be right there," he promised, smiling as they cheered and continued their race in spite of the adults' cautions. With the way their white gowns fluttered behind them, they seemed like ghosts flying close to the ground. Yet, their smiles and laughter were filled with such life that he couldn't believe they spent most of their time here.

He turned his face up to the large glass windows; sunlight poured through and warmed the corridor's pristine white walls with an inviting golden glow. It was as if for a second life existed in this place where death wandered the halls, waiting to see whom it could take or who would be left behind. Those kids didn't deserve to spend precious days of their childhood here, but they had little choice if they wanted to have any hope at living past their age. Tadashi lowered his eyes, focusing on the room nameplates. It wasn't necessary for finding Grandpa's room but certainly gave him something to do instead of falling into his dread-filled thoughts.

His heels clicked against the floor, gradually coming to rest out side of a door painted much differently than the others on either side of it. Bright blue butterfly stickers swarmed around the door handle, spreading their wings up in an arch over the middle while faltering to the end where a few unfortunate ones fluttered to the ground. Imagining the kids stacked on top of each other's shoulders while trying to see how many they could get away with tagging Grandpa's door with was hilarious to consider. Especially with how someone had begun drawing in bright green marker along the doorstop.

Was that supposed to be grass?

Those kids just seemed to get more creative every time he saw them.

Tadashi laughed softly despite himself, and shifted the album to lie against the crinkled bouquet paper before he reached for the door handle. He pulled open the door, peering inside with a hesitant, "Grandpa?"

Underneath a cream-colored blanket and a large quilt adorned with blue and green patches was a man with snow-white hair peppered with strands of silver and black. His dark-brown skin that'd once been smattered with freckles from hours spent working in the sun was now paler than Tadashi remembered. He stepped into the room and slid the door shut. His heartbeat quickened at Grandpa's stillness, though he fought to keep his voice even and clung to Mei-san's words.

Grandpa was just taking a nap; it was fine, he was fine.

"Juri-san said you took your medicine properly today.." Tadashi shouldered off his backpack and hung it up on the hook beside the door. "Only a little bit of grumbling this time, she said."

He turned back to his silent grandpa, trying to will his heart to keep beating regularly as he walked to his bedside. The stool left waiting there creaked under him, loosened by the changing weights of all those who'd sat in it before. Not even the sound roused the sleeping man and Tadashi pressed his lips together, struggling to keep them within the shape of a smile. He was only sleeping, wasn't he?

A little closer to Grandpa, Tadashi could make out the rise and fall of his chest from beneath the blanket. He didn't seem to be in any pain with creases between his brows or a scowl on his face aside from what was there usually. If not for the fact that his hair was properly combed, Tadashi would've thought that he might've been in bed all day.

A sly fox as always, he thought with a fond shake of the head.

"But you know what I think?"

He paused for a lingering effect, then reached out with one finger to poke at the bristled scruff of Grandpa's beard where one of his cheeks was a little plumper than the other.

"You're faking."

Grandpa's eyes sprang open, darting in his direction as his lips quirked crookedly to one side. He shuffled up, the quilt slipping down to his stomach while his elbow helped prop him up as he snickered mischievously like a little kid.

"What gave me away, grandson?"

"You've never been one to make things easy on anyone."

Tadashi laughed softly himself. Ever since he'd come to the hospital, Grandpa had been playing up his usual antics. It brought a certain air of calm to everyone, and even changed the mood within the ward. Tadashi could feel his own heart beginning to settle as he picked up an empty paper cup from the tray left by the nurses to offer to Grandpa.

"Well, let you tell it, all I do is called trouble."

"Where did you hear that from?"

"Children," Grandpa winked, "They hear everything. And don't change the subject young man, you think I'm a troublemaker?"

Tadashi resisted the urge to roll his eyes, taking the cup from Grandpa. "I've been with you my entire life; trust me, you're the worst."

"Bah, raise a boy for fifteen years, and he turns against you!"

And here he went again. Tadashi learned to tune out Grandpa when he started on his little rants, and let his mind fall into the routine of their usual visits. He laid the album on Grandpa's lap, then disposed of the cup of pills with a slight frown. Didn't he need those though? At closer inspection, it didn't look like any pills he'd ever seen the nurses give Grandpa. He rattled the cup a little, then rolled his eyes to the ceiling at the familiar smell of mint.

Of course, Grandpa wouldn't be able to resist playing such a trick on him.

"You have been taking your medicine though, haven't you?"

"Mm," Grandpa hummed over the sound of another page flipping.

Tadashi glareed at him over his shoulder, tossing the cup in the trash. "Grandpa."

"Yes, yes," Grandpa slumped back against the pillows at his back with a loud sigh, "Your dear old Papa is taking his medicine, drinking his water and using the toilet often."

I didn't need to know that last part, thought Tadashi as he went to undo the paper surrounding the bouquet and replace the flowers in the vase on Grandpa's nightstand. The yellow of hte sunflowers brightened up the room a little more, though he wished Grandpa would open the blinds and let sunlight in so the flowers wouldn't wilt so fast. He smoothed his fingers over hte blooms, only pulling away when he continued hearing the swish of a page being turned. Grandpa had shifted up in bed, turning over the pages with thin shaking fingers.

Every time his fingers would linger on a page and smooth over a face, tracing the shape of it with his nail while he'd mutter something too faint to make out properly. Most of the photographs were of the generation before him - his grandma and grandpa's children as they were growing up through the years. It was Grandpa's favorite album to look at since it had many pictures of him and his grandma together. Tadashi knew how much Grandpa missed her; the two of them were nigh inseperable while she was around and everyone feared without saying it that once his grandma was buried - Grandpa would be soon to follow.

The only reason he hadn't gone ahead was likely because he decided to raise Tadashi himself. Tadashi winced at the thought, wondering if Grandpa's health could have been better managed if he didn't have to look after someone else. Would he have even tried to focus on himself then?

"Grandpa, please take this seriously," Tadashi settled on the stool, hands pressed to his knees as he leaned forward to get a better look at Grandpa's face. "It's your health we're talking about."

Grandpa gave him another wordless grunt, nose scrunched and eyes half-lidded. They snapped to Tadashi sharply. Tadashi gulped, all of a sudden feeling like a mouse pinned beneath the gaze of a hawk.

"Well, let's hear about you, then," Grandpa said slowly, with a menace that was less terrifying as it was scolding. "What's school been like?"

Oh. Tadashi supposed that was one of the easier questions. "It's fine," he said thoughtlessly, then added when Grandpa's eyes narrowed, "Exams won't be for the next few months but I've already been preparing."

Which was half true - he had been preparing for exams but it wasn't with the usual intensity that he'd give his studies. Between his part time job and club activities, as well as seeing Grandpa, the most time he'd got to study was during the wee hours of the night. It was more than likely that his books spent time studying the contours of his face than he did what was on their pages. Tadashi rubbed his hands palms against his thighs as if he could smooth out his nerves by kneading them against his skin long enough.

Words rolled around in his mind as he watched Grandpa process what he'd said, breathing a sigh of relief through his nose when the older man hummed approvingly.

"Mn, and how's it been with Seiko?"

Tadashi squared his shoulders, fingers curling around his knee. There it was. He knew that Grandpa would ask but he didn't know when or how it would come out. Lying to him wasn't an option though.

"It was fine, but I… moved back into our old house three weeks ago."

Grandpa stared at him blankly. "… What?"

"Y-Yeah," Tadashi glanced away from Grandpa briefly before meeting his eyes again. His chest felt hot, stuffy under the bewilderment in Grandpa's eyes as if he wasn't sure what he was seeing in front of him. Quickly wracking his brain, Tadashi grasped at everything he'd been saving away. All of the pep talks that he had on how he would finally tell Grandpa, and the answers he stored away for any questions he might have -

came tumbling out of his mouth at once.

"Aunt Seiko and Uncle already have Kojiro and Himari to worry about; it wouldn't be fair to make them take care of me while paying for my fare to return here for school."

"Tadashi…"

"So, I got a part-time job at the convenience store down the street from where we always met Mrs. Ieura on her trips to the market, remember?"

"Tada—"

"They said that I can work nights, so it won't get in the way of my schooling. I also get days off around exams so I can prepare, and it helps out because I can keep the lights and water on too. I-I—"

"Tadashi…"

"I haven't told my homeroom teacher yet, but I wanted to prove that I could last for at least a month or three, a-and that means when you come home, the house will be just like you left i—"

BAM!

Tadashi's heart leapt into his throat at the echo of Grandpa's hand slapping flat against the page. The sleeve of Grandpa's hospital gown fluttered revealing the paleness of his frail wrists, and how much muscle definition he'd lost. Veins bulged beneath his papery skin, a soft shade of blue like the butterflies plastered to the door. His heart monitor quickened in its beeping, the only sound aside from Grandpa's labored breathing to break the silence. Tadashi held his breath, not trusting himself to even think of breathing as dread filled his gut like a frozen lake.

"Don't you know why I sent you to stay with Seiko and her family?" Grandpa said slowly, his voice trembling as he curled his splayed hand into a fist.

Tadashi bit the inside of his cheek to keep from answering reflexively. He knew. Of course, he knew.

His eyelashes fluttered, but he fought to keep them open. His breaths deepening and seeming almost unbearably loud in his ears at every brief flicker of darkness. Behind his eyelids was the dimness of the entryway to their home; the evening sunlight stretching his shadow long across the raised floor. There wasn't a sound to be heard aside from his own quiet breathing - not the tinny music playing out of ancient speakers Grandpa swore were still good, humming over the sound of clattering pots and pans, or the television with his favorite newscaster. The eerie silence of the entryhall made the house seem like an entirely different world, and though Tadashi lived there his entire life, he hesitated stepping inside.

He remembered calling out to Grandpa, and hearing that dreadful rasp of his name - burbling and ragged. Dully, Tadashi realized the sound would've hardly reached if the door had been closed. No one would have heard him. His heart seized as he dropped his schoolbag, forgetting to take off his shoes in his haste to dart and duck around the blurred shapes of furniture and walls. Everything had ceased to have focus; blood thrummed loudly in his ears with the crashing beat of his heart against his ribcage. His arm smarted when he collided against the wall separating the entry hall from the living room -

and then the world came to a halt.

Grandpa laid there like a marionette with its strings cut; his chest and face pressed to the floor keeping intelligible sounds from being spoke. Though Tadashi could hear the weary groans, and wet, rasping couchs grating as Grandpa gasped and clawed at the floors in a bid to reach something. Tadashi's legs buckled underneath him, but he drew himself up onto hands and knees to crwawl to Grandpa. His mind scrambled for the faint memory of school lessons and he turned Grandpa onto his side, using the hem of his uniform jacket to wipe the spittle and drool from his mouth while searching with his other hand to find his phone.

He hardly remembered how long it took him to type in the numbers, or how long it took for the paramedics to arise. What he did remember was the burnished orange of the afternoon sun glaring at the back of his head, holding Grandpa's head to keep him from choking on his tongue, listening to his wheezing breaths rattling throguh his lungs like coins in a can.

And praying someone would find them soon.

"You shouldn't have to struggle like this, Tadashi. That ain't the life your folks would have wanted for you."

Warmth welled up at the back of Tadashi's eyes, burning as he fought to keep the tears from leaking. Though as he bent his head and stared at his trembling clenched fists, his vision began to blur as his chest tightened. "I know it's selfish," he bit the inside of his cheek at the sound of his wavering voice, "But I just can't take staying there like this…"

He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his wrist, flushed skin dampened with each pass.

"Everyone treating me like I'm some kind of hero because I found you. But even when I did, there was nothing I could do but wait for someone to save you. There was nothing I could do on my own. Aunt Seiko and Uncle live so far away, and you're here all by yourself. If something happens to you, what if I'm not there next time? What do I do then, Grandpa?"

As the first sob broke free in a wretched gasp, Tadashi clapped his hand over his mouth and curled in on himself with his forehead pressed to his knees. It's pathetic. All of his carefully laid out thoughts and assumptions on how he would win over Grandpa had been for nothing. Absolutely nothing, when he was here crying at his bedside simply because he couldn't just keep it together.

Pathetic.

Unsightly.

"I see…"

A hand touched the top of his head, feather-light then heavier it settled palm and all to the curve of his head.

"Tadashi," Grandpa murmured, "If half of these geezers in here were as fortunate as me to have a grandson like you, they'd smile more."

Tadashi gulped down a sob with heruclean effort, shakily raising his head. Sunlight peeked through the curtains illuminating Grandpa from behind. The strands of silver and black in his white hair glistened, and his eyes twinkled as he smiled tenderly in a way that softened the sharpness of his eyes.

"You're such a kind boy.." Grandpa stroked the back of his hair, running his fingers from the tip of Tadashi's ear to his nape. "Your heart's gonna break a thousand times over before you get as old as me, I just know it. But.. that means you'll have loved a thousand times over, and that's something no one should miss out on in life."

What was he talking about?

Tadashi raised his head, watching as the scarlet light from the fading sun blossomed winsomely across Grandpa's wizened features. Grandpa brushed away the tears clinging to Tadashi's eyelashes and patted his cheek.

"Who do you think is happier? A man who stays in his hometown and never leaves, or one who travels the entire world?"

Tadashi sniffled, rubbing his wrist against his eye as Grandpa's hand pulled back. "…Uhm.." How was he supposed to answer a question like that? What did it have to do with anything? Though, from the look on Grandpa's face, he figured that he must not have been messing with him now of all times. "T-The one who travels the world, right? They get to see a whole lot of things, and probably meet a lot of people."

Grandpa hummed, stroking a hand along his chin. "Probably, but that's the wrong answer."

"Eh? Why?"

"Who cares if someone has been everywhere in the world, or if they've stayed in a town they've known all their life. It's hard to remember every person you pass by, but it's the people who stop for a moment and talk - the ones you can share memories with - that you remember the most, right?"

Tadashi let out a soft sigh. That was true in a way. If Grandpa had never been hospitalized, then he would never have met Juri-san and the others or the children who called him "Tadashi-niichan". Maybe their paths would have crossed somewhere else but he wouldn't have thought much of it then. Everything that was in front of him had his focus, and though he did speak to others and help when he could, it wasn't as if he remembered everyone he'd ever interacted with. What would make it the same for someone else hwo lived their life away from him?

What made people special to one another over anyone else?

"Seems you're thinking about it pretty hard," Grandpa chuckled, ruffling his hair. "Then, one more question that you'll have your whole life to think over."

Tadashi tilted his head, eyebrows raised as Grandpa tapped the tip of his nose.

"Who do you want to be at your side when you die?"

"By my side…? No one, I-I mean, wouldn't it be sad?"

"Mm, goodbyes are always sad even when they're just for a little while… but you know what's worse?" Grandpa's eyes drifted down to the album, his palm smoothing over the lace lining the cover. In the fading sunlight, his eyes shimmered and Tadashi averted his gaze when Grandpa reached up to thumb away the tears gathering there.

Grandpa didn't finish his sentence, and Tadashi didn't have the heart to ask him to. He already knew the answer back then and felt the echo of it a week later. Tadashi stared at Grandpa's smiling face immortalized in monochrome between bushels of chrysanthemums decorating his altar. Aunt Seiko wept into her handkerchief, trying to hide her running makeup and the depths of her grief behind shaking hands. Carefully, Tadashi laid his hand on her back with a feather-light touch then gradually pressed his palm and fingers before stroking a familiar rhythm.

✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦

Surrounded by Grandpa's long-time associates, closest friends, and even some of the people from their neighborhood, Tadashi heard whispers of regret amongst the weeping and the weak laughter from stories told about the one man who'd connected them all. From those who hadn't seen him in recent years to others who'd only spoken to him once or twice, they all expressed the same murmurs of sympathy - the desire to have at least been given the chance to say goodbye. 

Ashley
icon-reaction-5
S K Lesker
icon-reaction-5
Armorien
icon-reaction-1
SelenaReedBooks
icon-reaction-5