Sayane and Masaru Pt VI: Summer’s Silence

Sayane had spent the rest of the evening vomiting alone in the bathroom as Masaru sat at the bed’s edge and contemplated existence. He’d tried to get her to drink something to rehydrate herself, but she’d refused. Black lines caked and stained her cheeks, refusing to fade even after she’d scrubbed them away with soap. Darkness no longer crept through his vision, but it remained constricted like an aperture that had all but closed.

Eventually, after her hands had memorized the contours of porcelain and her abdominal muscles had tensed so hard it felt like they might tear, she joined him in the bed. Lights were turned off without a word, and soon the only hints of life were her occasional sniffs and shifts as she failed to contain her flowing grief.

In the darkness, he would occasionally reach for her, but his hand would pass through the spot where she was, causing him to only further collapse into defeated acceptance. Maybe others would have had more agency if they were in his position. Perhaps someone else might have gone to every temple and shrine possible to try and find answers. Perhaps some would wail and gnash and fight.

But Masaru was not them.

Tormented tranquility would have to be enough. It wasn’t what he wanted, but that was true for the vast majority of his life. As he looked back on everything that had led him to this point, bright spots were few and far between. The universe was indifferent to him, and his lot had been cast to be plagued by misfortune.

Quiet ebbs from nearby, unseen waves floated through the partially cracked window. Whirs of passing cars came and went. Voices drifted as strangers walked by down at the sidewalk below. Disappointment hung heavier than the waning moon. He hoped death awaited him. That would be better than existing like this any longer.

A subtle flinch told him Sayane was shifting once again.

“Do you think…”

She paused and wiped her eyes.

"Do you think all the gods out there know they're fake?" she sighed from what he'd thought was her sleep.

Turning to face her, he was able to see her glassy, pale eyes were open, blankly staring at the ceiling.

"Hm?" he asked.

Somber heaviness had overtaken her and she moved like it hurt as she reached for him.

"Out there in the emptiness. Do you think all the gods across all the religions of time sit together and realize they're just… bullshit? Fairy tales invented by people thousands of years ago who didn't understand weather patterns? Empty promises fielding our desperate cries and never doing anything about it?"

Another streak of milky, oozing black ran from her nose and eyes, but she didn’t wipe it away. Masaru watched as it dropped down onto the faded white pillowcase. It was impossible to know if the inky fluid was some side effect of his touch, or the putrid runoff of the rot that was now raging in her organ systems.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Her touch went through his and the muscles in her neck seized as she closed her eyes.

“It-it might be too late for me, Sayane. But it isn’t for you,” he said.

Sayane scoffed in self loathing and pulled her hand away, but Masaru continued.

“No, please. Listen to me. You can run away from all of this. I have some money in my bank account.”

“Masaru…”

“I’ll give you my card and PIN. You can have it all.”

“Masaru! Stop!” she begged.

Her shout was hateful. Masaru sighed in dejection.

“Please, Sayane. Please don’t be like me. You can run away. Start over somewhere far away.”

Sayane turned to him, eyes darkened with self destructive malice.

“I’m blind and have a terrible record. I never even finished high school. There is nothing for me in Japan. And no other country would want me.”

“Please,” he whispered.

Sayane shook her head and laughed at herself.

“Do you know why I couldn’t have sex with you tonight?” she snarled.

“A client wanted to try something on a girl, and I was the one that was offered up. He wanted to see what would happen if he put an electric screwdriver inside of me…”

Her eyes were nearly engulfed in black that was now flowing uninterrupted from her ducts. As Masaru listened in horror, he watched her lie perfectly still, staring at the ceiling as every fiber and ligament in her body locked in rage.

“There have been so, so many nights when I thought about drinking bleach. Maybe, as it finally killed me, it could at least wash the stains away from my insides that were left by all these people who never loved me or even gave a shit about me," she sobbed to herself as her teeth bared in disdain.

Being near her felt like being at the edge of an imploding star.

"If it is too late for you, it is BEYOND too fucking late for me, Masaru.”

Beneath the sheets, he felt his body materialize. Their hands met once more, and both let out anguished sighs. Her fingers clasped around his as though it was the only thing keeping them from falling through the bed and into nothingness. Masaru turned to her, keeping his hand against hers while reaching out to her face with the other.

She felt his touch approaching and inhaled, then softly groaned as his palm met her jaw. For once, there was a gentle protective feeling in this hand that cradled her face. Sayane did everything she could to focus only on that sensation.

“No,” was all Masaru could offer.

Sayane’s eyes closed.

“No, it will never be too late for you.”

Silence pulled itself from the gaps between the wall clock’s second hand ticks.

“No…” she replied.

He couldn’t tell if she was agreeing with him or rejecting his plea. It merely felt as though she was returning his words to him like objects found in an old jacket pocket.

Transparent degeneration returned to his soul, and he drifted once again. Sayane’s hand slowly fell through his and he yanked his hand from her face to save her from any more potential suffering.

Sayane turned away from him and they returned to their close-quarters isolation. Dawn would be upon them soon, and Tokyo would be waiting, statuesque and grey. Their brief respite was coming to a close, and with it, Masaru’s existence. As horrifying as it was, he wasn’t sure if he would be the only one fading. Beside him, she already seemed so small and dimmed.

Masaru closed his eyes to push away his own tears. ‘This will have to be enough,’ he thought to himself as he prayed to the nothingness that she might hear just a single vibration of hope in his words.

He thought of her smile, so unfamiliar and unrefined from lack of use.

She pulled the blanket to her ears as she shivered.

Then he thought about nothing.

She was still.

Then he thought nothing.

It was slightly different, but in the end the outcome was basically the same. Their time was all but up.