Moving On

The alarm went off. He had allowed himself to stay up late the previous night. Screw it. One last fling, laughing with the Kurosawas. Cheap beer and good ramen. Exactly how he wanted to remember Japan. He grabbed his phone. Seven on the dot. Harry stood, opening his window and breathing in the smell of early morning Tokyo one last time before closing the window and latching it. He double checked his bag. Pants. Toothbrush. Cookbook on how to utilize the full capabilities of natto. Reo, you cheeky bastard, Harry thought with a grin as he sealed the bag, exiting what was no longer his room.

Reo breathed on the lenses of his glasses in his room, polishing them with a cloth before settling them on his face. Leaning over to give himself one final inspection in the mirror, he adjusted his tie. Not to make it tighter. To loosen it. Harry always said he was too much of a stick in the ass. He supposed he could give his friend a more casual Reo on his final day. He paused, his mind going back to the day he met the loud American. A raid he had helped the Tokyo police with due to the suspected use of demon possessed criminals. They found a gang war in a warehouse. They had expected blood and bullets and bodies. What they hadn’t expected was a six foot two mountain of American muscle embroiled in the fight along with the Japanese criminals. Reo hadn’t known then why he offered a room to Harry. Six months later, he had the answer.

Because he simply couldn’t say no.

Hinata laid in bed. Five more minutes, she told herself. She could wait five more minutes before getting up. In those five minutes she could pretend she didn’t have to get up, pretend Harry wasn’t going to the airport and everything could stay as it was. One of the few good things that had happened in her life was meeting Harry. The loud American never made her feel sick. Even her parents and Reo saw the illness first before they saw her. Harry never did. He never would. So she wanted him to stay. She needed him to. And if he couldn’t, she could at least pretend under her covers. Those five minutes let her ignore reality. Which was why she stood up after two. She was tired of ignoring reality. It was what she did after D Day when her parents died. If she pretended, she could think her parents would walk back in and Reo’s silence wasn’t all consuming. But she didn’t want five more minutes in bed anymore. She wanted five more minutes with her friend. She wanted his voice, his laugh, the way he made her brother try to live again. So she took what Harry called her Keep Hinata From Dying Pills, dressed quickly and left her room.

They met near the front door. Harry and Reo kept their faces mostly neutral, with slight smiles intruding if anything did. Hinata did her best to keep from embarrassing herself. Harry avoided eye contact to help her.

“You ready, partner?” Harry asked Reo.

“Yeehaw, my American friend,” Reo said. He grabbed his car keys, the trio left, and the house went quiet.

The drive stayed mostly silent. Each one of them were thinking of how to say goodbye. Hinata coughed quietly, desperately trying not to make Harry worry about her. He caught her eyes in the rear view mirror, giving her a quick nod. Good girl. Keep fighting. He couldn’t help but smile then, leaning back in the front passenger seat. Reo shot him his usual quizzical glance.

“Gonna miss driving on the wrong side of the road,” Harry said, his grin wide. Reo matched it with his smaller grin. Stupid American bastard, he said with his glance.

The security checkpoint at the airport loomed before them. The official point of separation. People milled around, other lives all going on like normal. Harry adjusted his backpack, coughing into his hand, waiting for one of his friends to talk first.

“Have you finally decided where you’re going?” Reo asked. Harry relaxed slightly. Thank you for talking, you skinny bastard, Harry thought.

“I’m thinking Greece,” Harry said, running his fingers through his faint stubble.

“Greece?” Reo asked with a head tilt.

“Lots of weird demons there. Always loved Greek mythology,” Harry said, looking close to boyish in his excitement about seeing a new breed of demon.

“More than Japanese mythology?” Hinata asked. It was, of course, not the question she was actually asking. Harry gazed down at the small, timid, sickly girl before him as she tried not to break down. He lifted his meaty hand and placed it right on top of her head. She jolted slightly and looked up at him, a small cough escaping.

“Get your heart under control. Eat healthy, work out, kick its ass,” Harry said sternly, doing his best big brother impression.

“My heart is broken,” Hinata said.

“Please. Broken hearts don’t keep ticking along,” Harry said.

Hinata’s face scrunched up like she wanted to say something. Her arms moved, lifted, deciding whether to hug Harry or grab his hand or wrap them around her own body. Finally they decided to go back to her sides, her face becoming determined. Harry didn’t want to see a weepy girl. He wanted to say goodbye to a fighter. So, as Harry lifted his hand back up, she gave him a determined nod.

“I’ll make sure she stays healthy,” Reo said, his own face betraying nothing.

“Good. Because if she dies I have no reason to come back,” Harry said.

“You have natto,” Hinata said. Both she and Reo smiled as Harry shuddered.

“Ugh. Sure. I’ve got natto,” Harry sighed.

“I’ll keep some in stock for you,” Reo said.

Harry looked up at the wall where the departures were announced. His plane was right on time. Before anyone else could say anything, Harry spun on his heel and began slowly yet steadily walking away.

“See you later, you freaks,” Harry said, not looking back, only giving a little wave. Reo and Hinata stood there, watching as their friend was lost in the crowd, then standing there because moving so soon felt wrong.

Everyone would be surprised to know Harry was the only one to shed a tear, and even he didn’t acknowledge it. Must be dust or something, he thought as he sat in the plane, waiting for takeoff. Harry Vickers wasn’t a man who cried. Back when his beloved pet dog died when he was twelve years old, he dealt with it through jokes and sarcasm and throwing himself into sports, not through crying like a little girl. When Lisa died he raged, the magical force which gave him his hammer providing an outlet for his grief. But this? Why would he cry now?

He visited several countries on his world tour before finally returning to New York City and terrorizing any demons which dared to haunt the city which never slept. Harry never formally answered the question as to why a single tear escaped his eyes, but if he were ever asked he would know. Japan was the first time since the old world ended where he felt like it didn’t. It was where he learned there could be life after death. He flew into the west, finally ready to see what came next.