Chapter Twenty-Three - Goodbye

The relatively pleasant weather from the previous day had, predictably, turned cold and foul. The wind whipped the skeletal tree branches along the sides of the road as they reached toward the glowering skies. Sullen clouds were spreading from the northeast, carrying with them the promise of snow. I pulled my jacket collar closer to my neck and hunched lower, stumbling slightly against the wind. I felt rather than heard the phone ringing. I turned my back to the wind and pulled my phone free.

“Hello, Saki-chan!” I called to her over the blowing wind. “I missed you this morning! Sorry I slept so late!”

“Y-You answered,” I heard Saki breathe a sigh of relief across the phone.

“I promised, didn’t I?” I grinned, my cheeks beginning to grow numb from the cold.

“Yeah, I guess you did,” Saki chuckled. “I…I don’t suppose I could impose on you one more time, could I?”

“You’re not an imposition,” I waved away her question, though I was having trouble hearing her over the rising rush of wind careening down the streets of Tottori.

“Could you meet me at the shrine at Karo-jinja?”

“Sure,” I nodded, though I found her asking me to meet her somewhere in and of itself odd. “When?”

“As soon as possible,” Saki’s voice was faint and partially blown away by the wind.

“I can be there in about half an hour,” I said.

“Then I’ll meet you there in half an hour, senpai,” Saki replied.

“Yep, see you there,” I hung up and turned aside, heading down the river road rather than toward home.

The shrine, nestled along the banks of the bay, was open yet mostly abandoned at this time of year. Even the head priest rarely showed up past November. With far fewer visitors than Daisenji there was little reason to bother staffing it all year, I supposed. Still, the temple seemed far more intimate and personal than the sprawling complex on the side of Mt. Daisen.

Through seventy years the rustic-looking building had stood against the ravages of time, the rain, the snow, and the sun. The timbers were pale and shedding their outer layer of wood, the stones were worn smooth, and the once colorful pagoda roof was bleached and dull. But still it retained a sense of solemnity and majesty in a way I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It was soothing in its silence and sturdiness. There was an air of permanence to the worn buildings I found calming.

I topped the flight of stairs and sighed, glancing back at the turbulent, dark waters of the bay beyond. The clouds had built up on the horizon, stacked like slate bricks high against the horizon. I shuddered and shook my head as the wind found every crease and gap in my clothes and bit at my skin. I hate winter, I sighed as I turned and headed up the stairs and into the temple itself.

I saw Saki immediately upon entering. She sat huddled on a bench on the opposite side of the room, looking out at the bay through thick glass windows. Even in a heavy jacket, I knew immediately it was her. Her small body was leaning slightly, head tilted to the right as if pondering something just beyond the reach of mortal people. Some deep and hidden secret only she understood. She was far wiser than her years let on, with an insight I had no hope of ever reaching. Though the youngest of us, she was by far the most cerebral.

“Thank you for coming, senpai,” her voice was little more than a whisper as I drew nearer to her.

“How could I not?” I smiled and moved around the bench to sit beside her. Her face was partially obscured under her thick pink fake fur hood, only the tip of her nose visible from the side. “I promised, didn’t I?”

“Well,” Saki sniffled, “you only promised to answer your phone. You didn’t have to come. But I’m so very grateful you did.”

“Anything for you, Saki,” I smiled, patting her shoulder and marveling at the fluffiness of her pale pink marshmallow coat.

“I lied to you, senpai,” Saki said, taking a deep breath.

“Huh?” I asked in confusion.

“I-It wasn’t intentional!” Saki stuttered. “It wasn’t something I had control over. I promise!”

“What did you lie about?” I asked, a chill coursing through me.

“Well,” Saki shrugged miserably. “It seems I’ve lied to myself as well; I suppose.”

“You’re not making sense, Saki-chan.”

“I promised myself I’d do whatever I could to keep you safe and I promised you could always come to me,” Saki’s voice sounded hoarse and fragile, as if she was holding herself together with the thinnest of threads. “I…I lied to us both, I guess.”

“You’re starting to scare me, Saki,” I put my hand on hers and leaned closer. She lowered her head and shook it. My mind whirled in panic. Had her cancer come back? Was she sick? What was happening?

“You and thoughts of you, saved me when I was at my lowest. I fought as hard as I could and beat my cancer thanks in no small part to you,” Saki whispered. I could tell how hard she was struggling to get the words out and kept quiet, my hand still on hers. I could feel her shaking and, without thinking clasped my hand over hers, my fingers wrapping around hers and squeezing gently. She paused for a moment and squeezed my hand back.

“I used to ask myself all the time how I could repay you. I-I mean, how do you repay someone who gave your life back to you? You can’t,” Saki shook her head, a strand of her long hair dropping from her hood, glowing slightly in the watery light from the window. “To say I love you is like saying water is wet. It’s a given. But I knew in my heart we would never be. You are on an entirely different level than I am.” Despite my desire to protest I felt what she really needed was to talk so I stayed quiet, my heart aching.

“So,” She took a deep, halting breath in an effort to steady herself before continuing on. “I resolved to stay by your side. If not as your l-lover, at least as your friend. To keep you company when you needed it. To listen when you had something to say, and to support you no matter what. I had to. It was never a fair exchange for giving me hope when I had none, but it was all I knew how to do.

“I come from a big family and sharing was something we had to do,” she shook her head. “So no matter how much I wanted to monopolize you; I knew I couldn’t. My timing was off. Or I was. Or maybe both.” She shrugged again. “The only way I could be there was to be your friend. And I was so grateful for it. It was…like standing in the sunlight when everything else was bathed in night. You light up my life. Even if I had no hope of feeling your warmth, it was still better than being in the dark.” She sniffled and I could feel the strings holding her together begin to unravel.

“The one thing I learned; when beds which had once held a child younger than me in the hospital came back empty is that life isn’t fair. Nothing is guaranteed. We aren’t owed anything and all we have can be taken away in a moment.”

“S-Saki, please tell me you’re ok,” I managed through trembling lips. She had to be ok. I couldn’t accept anything less. I’d only known her for a few short months, but she’d become an indispensable part of my life. In a very real way, a part of me.

“My cancer is still in remission,” Saki tried to smile and failed. “But my heart is breaking, senpai.”

“I don’t understand,” I shook my head, relieved she was ok.

“I’m leaving, senpai.” Saki whispered, her voice and composure beginning to crack.

“What?”

“I don’t know the specifics,” Saki whispered. “I’m just a kid, I guess, and my opinion doesn’t really matter in the long run. But I’m going to Korea.”

“What? When?” My relief was suddenly washed away by a vague sense of dread.

“The car is waiting for me outside,” Saki whispered, pointing a shaking finger toward a large black foreign car I’d not noticed before through the window.

“B-But you’ll be back, right?” I tightened my grip on her hand. I should be comforting her right now, rather than looking to her to comfort me, but I couldn’t help myself. It seemed I’d gotten used to Saki making me feel better, and even now, was reluctant or unable to set that need aside.

“N-No,” Saki shook her head. “E-Even when everything’s settled, we can’t come back, from what they said. I fought as hard as I could, and this is all they would give m-me. The chance to say g-goodbye.” The thread holding her together finally snapped and her tears flowed down her cheeks and her slim, tiny shoulders shook with the force of her sobs. My own sadness rose up and swallowed me whole and we held each other, sobbing brokenly, our hearts breaking together.

“You knew yesterday, huh?” I finally whispered through the tears. Saki nodded miserably.

“I wanted one more time for us all to be together. One last memory to hold on to, I guess,” she shrugged. “I know it was selfish. I just…I don’t know…” She trailed off.

“I wish it had been a better memory for you.”

“Every moment we had was precious, senpai,” she insisted with a shake of her head.

“Same for me, Saki-chan,” I nodded.

Long moments passed and I held onto her as tightly as I could, not wanting to let go. Not wanting to forget this feeling. This moment when we were here. This instant of time in the musty confines of the shrine when she was still with me. For a breath, time seemed to stop and then, with the honk of a horn outside the breath was released, the clock ticked over, and our moment was gone.

“I h-have to go, senpai,” Saki swayed to her feet brokenly, her fingers brushed against mine as she stepped away from me. “I-I’m s-s-s-sorry.” I heard her footfalls as she walked unsteadily toward the door and out of my life.

I sat on the bench for a long moment, a million thoughts going through my head at the same time, staring down at my hand still warm from Saki’s skin. Life was a series of meetings and partings. People appeared and shone brightly for a moment and then faded like ghosts, leaving a small piece of themselves in your mind and heart. Some pieces were like shadows, ephemeral and transitory. A smudge against a blank page. Others were like jewels, shining brightly and lighting up your heart in the dark of night. Still more were like scars, leaving deep, indelible marks on your soul you could never forget, no matter how hard you tried. Saki could only be a brilliantly shining pink diamond.

Did I love her? Did I love her the same as Aria? I didn’t know, honestly. I just knew that the thought of her being gone hurt. If love was pain from loss, then yes, I suppose I did love her. Guilt flashed through me, but I didn’t care. She was important to me.

“Saki!” I grabbed her hand as she reached the door and turned her to face me. I wanted to tell her not to go. I wanted to tell her that I would protect her and keep her safe. I wanted her to stay. I wanted all of that but couldn’t bring myself to say any of it. “If you ever call me, I will answer. I promise.” I swore instead. Saki’s tear-stained face turned upward to me, and a smile played on her lips.

“I-If you ever call me, I will answer, too,” Saki nodded gratefully. “I promise.” Her eyes glanced toward the door for a second before turning back to me. “C-Can I be selfish one last time, senpai?”

“You can always be selfish with me, Saki,” I whispered brokenly. She took a step forward and raised herself onto her tiptoes. Her soft lips brushed against mine gently. It was different than Aria, though I couldn’t really put my finger on exactly what it was. More tender, perhaps?

“Y-You are my first,” she whispered as she drew her lips back from our kiss, the taste of her tears and strawberry lip balm both salty and sweet. “You will be my last. G-Goodbye, Kasumi senpai.”

I tried to keep the tears from falling but failed miserably. She stepped through the door and turned north toward the road. I watched as her back retreated from me. I watched until she stepped into the back of the big black car. I watched until the car vanished from sight, and I watched the empty road until the snow began to fall and I felt the tears streaming down my face begin to freeze on my skin.

“Goodbye, Saki-chan,” I whispered into the wind, my words scattered and whisked away as if they never were. I glanced back into the shrine, committing to memory where we both had been in the same space at the same time. I sighed and closed the door behind me before walking into the teeth of the storm. The loss of the part of me that was Sakura Hideki ached like a broken bone I doubted would ever heal properly.