Chapter 16: The Father’s Promise

He went as far as the world itself would take Hina, then the world said no.

One minute they were and the next they were walking in the half-developed classroom melted away behind them. Hina was leant against his shoulder, her breath was ruddy but it was real and her recollection of him was blinking like a candle in the wind.

It was not a smooth process, such as the ones of its substitution of the library with the student lounge, where the walls kept shifting one way or another.

Then they crossed a line.

Haruto did not feel it, but he heard it: There was a pressure shift at one second, like he was entering a room where all the air was sucked out.

One of them is trying to operate a coffee machine in a dorm during night time- everything is old.

Hina gasped. "This place is... rejecting me."

Her outline flickered wildly, as if the code that held her together couldn't keep up. Her hand slipped from his eyes wide.

"no--no--no--" Haruto turned back.

She vanished mid-breath.

Not erased. Not deleted. Just elsewhere.

It was like a function had lost null pointers.

It was a little voice in his ear, “I will find you...--after this…”

Then silence.

Haruto stood alone.

The size of his body area was swollen. An aperture was made-- sterile, clean, humming--to decide whether he deserved to see any more.

It resembled a lecture hall with blue fluorescent lights and you were not allowed to buzz in before reading the needed materials.

White tiles were below them. He knew this place.

The hospital.

Not just any hospital--the one.

The entire thing changed in a night.

The memory began gently. Too gently.

No screaming. No alarms. No chaos.

Just quiet.

Too quiet.

He walked slowly. There was the smell of drier and more rubbing alcohol and coffee sold at the vending machines. Vaguely somewhere was an obscure beep--it was ambient.

The nostalgic flow of nosebleed on the anaesthetic.

The nearer he came to the terminus of the passage the more chilled it became.

And there it was.

The waiting area.

Haruto stopped.

The boy sitting on one of the green shaped seats was a small man with long legs, and a zipped-up hoodie. Head down. Silent. A can of the orange soda in each hand.

The poster was a dead senior project poster which somebody had to fix.

Haruto recalled that hoodie. He recalled how he had clenched that soda that his fingers hurt.

There was a selling machine next to the bench, which was flickering with its display screen and humming.

It was the last time he would have an association with that machine.

The last emotion of the father was bestowed to this.

He said, "Wait here. Two minutes. I'll be right back."

He never came back.

Not that night. Not really ever again.

Haruto was experiencing a reflection of himself in the past. The boy never looked up. Just kept waiting.

Waiting and shrinking.

One--screen jumping one--the electronic vend machine flashed. A dull clunk echoed inside it. No one had trod it, but a soda trickled down. Then another. A third clunk.

The tray at the can began vibrating.

Haruto took a step closer.

The soda in there had begun rattling.

Cans were turning in their racks behind the glass. One of them accidentally opened and emptied through its hole in a drip of blood down the drain.

Then the machine spoke.

Not with words.

With voice.

His father's voice.

"Sorry I'm late, champ."

Haruto walked out, and down the corridor.

This--making, moulding--was a man.

Medium height. Office clothes. Minor paunch on the waist. A smiling face which never appeared to be sleepy enough to smile on his part.

The man approached.

"I got caught up at work. You know how it is. Traffic. The boss wouldn't let me leave."

He rubbed his head--as dad did.

Tapped his ring finger.

The limp in the left foot even.

Haruto's breath hitched.

"Dad...?"

The man smiled. "I told you I'd be back."

Something inside Haruto buckled.

The child-Haruto was seated next to the man.

And immediately the machine ceased trembling.

The world was just once - for a moment, just a breath.

The man brushed the hair of the child back and said, “You shouldn’t have waited so long.”

“I missed the play, didn’t I?”

The boy nodded.

The man sighed. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”

In the back of Haruto's mind, he pursued that line:

The hands of Haruto turned into fists.

This was too perfect.

Too tailored.

“You’re not him,” he said aloud.

The man looked up.

“I’m trying to be.”

“You’re a construct. Memory was reformed such that I would feel better.”

“I’m your version of him. The one you needed.”

The boy glanced up at the man, thus at Haruto.

“Does it matter?” the man asked. “And, should I be non-genuine, yet have power to give you which he was powerless to give?”

Haruto's jaw tightened.

“I did not come to comfort you.”

The machine was firing behind them.

The display was out of action--illustrations of ancient pictures. A baseball game. A blurry birthday party. An automobile seat, with a McDonald wrap on it. Memories.

All half‑finished.

The man stood.

You have to leave me alone, and then you need not ask me again, said he. You can believe I came back."

Haruto shook his head.

“Why did you not come back again,” he thought. "You promised you would. You told me two minutes ago."

His voice cracked.

"I waited for hours."

The boy flinched.

“I stood and stared at the vending machine, then I believed it would become your face. I told the nurse you were busy. I said so the pain wouldn't come back.”

The man stepped forward. "I did."

"No," Haruto said. "You didn't."

The man's face flickered.

"You left," Haruto said. "Maybe not on purpose. Maybe not forever.Out of believing people always come back if you’re good enough. Quiet enough. Patient enough.”

The vending machine yelled, the glass screamed.

The boy dropped his soda.

The man fell backwards with withering eyes.

“I am not doing it for you,” Haruto told her, moving nearer. "I'm doing it for me. Since I have to cease to keep space occupied by another person who never occupied it.”

The man opened his mouth but couldn't say anything.

Then—he crumbled.

Not violently. Just… folded.

Like paper burning inward.

Haruto turned toward the boy.

He knelt.

“I’m sorry he didn’t come back,” he said.

The boy didn't cry.

But his lips quivered.

"He loved us," Haruto said. “But that does not mean that he remained.”

His hand came out to touch that of the child.

"We don't have to wait anymore."

There was a light that was created between their hands.

Small.

Blue.

There was a crack in the floor.

The machine shattered.

The boy sighed and walked off in a flash.

Not erased.

Released.

Haruto stood alone.

And the world broke.

A roar split the ceiling. Piths gouged holes through the walls. Something huge revolved behind the sky--as though the city itself had an eye, and it had just winked.

There was a ringing of a bell very far away.

Low.

Distant.

Final.

Haruto stared at his watch.

07:49:00

It hadn't ticked.

But he had.