The Cupid or the Reaper

On Sunday September 9th at 2:00AM JST, a boy leaped fifteen stories from Asakusa Tower and smashed into the ground.

I know because I was there, watching. The night was dark but I could see him under the moon and Sagittarius. I saw how he fell, because I was above him, the building, and the black pavement that he filled with his colors — for I had wings.

Someone once said there are two kinds of people. Those who observe Death, like Reapers, and those who watch for Life, like Cupids.

We flutter towards pain or joy like moths to an overwarming flame. Cat pictures and war photography, true crime and love stories, what’s popular on the internet holds proof of that statement.

Perhaps that same “internet” was what led him to Asakusa Tower in 2019.

“I’ve heard this place is very trendy,” I say to him, back then.

“Trendy? This dilapidated shack? Why, I could get a room here for less than 20,000 yen.”

“But it has wonderful amenities. They always leave the roof unlocked, and the roof's a pleasant place to spend the night.”

“Is that so…”

I really mean that, in all sense of the phrase. He’s someone I’m happy to spend not just this night with, but all my nights; and engage with him in the most intimate acts.

But tonight he’s playing dumb.

“Pleiades is beautiful tonight.”

“I prefer Orion,” I say, then Kisaragi cuts me off-

“A hunter that never catches his quarry? There’s nothing more pathetic than that.”

“Forever chasing Pleiades across the sky, but never catching her — perhaps it would be better for Orion to move on. But you — you want me to be here, don’t you?

I prowl towards him.

“You pass my first-floor apartment and you just happen to kick a rock that strikes my window like a meteor. You move, meanwhile at the pace of a snail. Easy to detect. Easy to follow.”

“Nothing happened like that,” he says with confidence, as if casting an illusion away. “I’m stargazing. I don’t really mind Orion, but I still like Pleiades best.”

He walks to the rooftop door, holds it open, and bows. ‘It was nice to spend some time with you Rin. I can talk about constellations with many people, but not about the Zodiac. Go ahead and I’ll join you shortly down below.

I don’t move.

“I know why you’re really here.” I breathe.

He still smiles, but its frozen on his face.

“No, I don’t know why you’re here.” I say. “But I’m tired too. I’m tired of living like this. I want to know death. I want to know death with you.”

I take his hands, and as if at a ballroom I gently guide him back with every word.

“Rina…”

I take his hands, and as if at a ball I guide him with back with every word.

“You won’t die alone.”

We’re at the roof’s edge. He’s pressing the small of my back, supporting me, and if he lets go I'll fall. 

“Rina. I don’t know.” It’s a firm steady hand but a whispered voice.

Why does he hesitate?

Is it because he knows I’d rather not jump? That I’d only want to learn death’s secret because I want more time with him?

But I think being a survivor might be worse. 'What could I have done', I would think. 'Where did I go wrong that Kisaragi died alone on September 9th 2:00 AM JST in a single line in the newspaper of “unknown causes” such that one could read between the lines and understand what happened.' Or just find the bloodied pictures on the internet if they didn’t.

If someone I love dies, then I will always find a way to join them. My heart wouldn’t bear it otherwise.

He looks at my eyes, asking again with a glance, and I smile and nod.

He wraps his arms around me, and together we hurtle off the building. I sense his heartbeat against me, thrumming, accelerating.

He hits the pavement.

He hits the pavement, and I don’t, because I have wings. I’m just an observer in the end, high and distant from the dismal scene.

Then I’m falling, falling, and I fall into a feather-soft bed into a sleepless night. There is nothing I can do for him except hold in my arms in dreams and false memories.

After all, it isn’t September 9th, 2019. Not anymore. Kisaragi has already fallen. I don’t know if he saw any angels back then. I don’t think he did.

But I am more of a Cupid than a Reaper. I want to watch for love in his death instead of pain.

When he hurtled off the rooftop he took a part of me with him. I hope he felt it wrapped around his heart, because I know it was there. 

The rest of me will surely follow —

For you, Kisaragi, I will make my suicide beautiful and slow. It will take me perhaps sixty five more years to die.

Then, finally, we’ll run into the dark.