Last Day

The funeral for my classmate, Tanaka Asuka, was held on a gray, overcast afternoon. The weather was a poor reflection of the person she had been in life.

A massive crowd had gathered that day, especially students from our high school. Her friends looked completely devastated, unable to wrap their heads around the bitter reality in front of them. Her best friend—usually an incorrigible gossip—was silent for the first time in her life. Her face was a total void, like a blank sheet of paper without a single drop of ink.

Even our homeroom teacher couldn't stop dabbing at his face with a handkerchief. Her tears just wouldn't dry up. It was clear she was heartbroken over losing her star student.

Meanwhile, tucked away at one of the most isolated benches, I didn't show much of a reaction.

To be honest, I wasn't sure how I was supposed to act in that situation. I was nobody to that girl. We were just classmates. Sure, we sat next to each other, but I didn't think that gave me any real standing in her life. Because of that, I didn't know if I even had the right to grieve for her death.

She was just a classmate. Nothing more.

That’s how it was supposed to be, right?

But as I looked at her photograph—smiling there next to the casket where she lay—I felt sick with a sense of guilt that I just couldn't shake.

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