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The day after their relay tournament, twelve-year-old Makoto sat by the river, leaning back on his hands and watching Haru play in the water. He had never been particularly fond of the river, and after it had nearly swallowed Haru alive, that last time…still, he knew that it was pointless, to try and keep the black-haired boy from the water. In the end, it was Haru's decision. If he still wants to swim in the river, even after that…if he's ok with it, I should be ok with it, too. Besides, Haru had been sick, that last time. He'd fallen in, in a place that wasn't as calm as this. It wouldn't happen again. That was what he told himself.
The warm sun beat down on him from the cloudless sky, and the grass on the bank of the river whispered in the wind. He watched as Haru dove under the water again.
He heard someone coming up the path, and he turned to see who it was. Nagisa appeared, riding his bike. "Hi, Mako-chan!," the blonde boy shouted, waving cheerfully as he rolled by. Makoto smiled and raised his hand in a wave. He watched Nagisa roll across the bridge and out of sight again.
When he turned his attention back to the river, he noticed that Haru was still underwater. He sure can hold his breath, Makoto thought. I wish I could be that confident in the water. He liked swimming, but he hated being underwater: he could always feel the insidious pull of depths, waiting to suck him down and keep him there forever.
Haru's been down there an awfully long time.
Makoto stood up cautiously, searching the water. Then, he saw Haru, lying at the bottom. His pitch-black hair drifted lightly in the current: other than that, he wasn't moving anymore.
Makoto froze for a second, eyes wide. His heart stopped. Then, the images before him suddenly clicked, and he sprang into action. Without a second thought, he charged into the water toward Haru's motionless form. The water only came up to his chest, so it was easy enough for him to yank Haru out and pull him back to shore. He laid the black-haired boy out on the bank. "Haru!," he called, an edge of panic in his voice. There was no response. A line of blood was slowly materializing on Haru's forehead, right below his hairline. His head…something must have hit…he must have been swimming right in the current, and gotten hit by a branch or a rock- He shook Haru a little, but the black-haired boy remained limp and motionless. He bent down to listen for Haru's breath, but the black-haired boy wasn't breathing anymore.
His instincts took over as the adrenaline coursed through his veins: fueled purely by fear, he began performing CPR, just like he'd been taught. The only thing in his mind was Haru's cold, pale face. He had to bring Haru back. He had to save him.
After what seemed like an eternity, Haru came to life, choking violently. Makoto let him cough all the water out of his lungs before giving him the tightest hug he could.
"I thought you were gone," Makoto said, a tear leaking from his eye. He felt Haru's arms wrapping around him weakly.
"Thank you, Makoto," the black-haired boy rasped.
Suddenly, they were surrounded by people: paramedics, police, people who'd been passing by. Someone must have seen what was going on and called for help. A policeman pulled Makoto aside as the paramedics bent down to examine Haru. Makoto explained what had happened, but he kept an eye on the activity surrounding the black-haired boy. He watched them load his best friend onto a stretcher, then into an ambulance: after that, they closed the doors and drove away.
Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. A paramedic was smiling gently at him. "He'll be ok," the man said, but something seemed disjointed. His voice didn't quite match up with the movements of his lips. In fact, the whole world felt a bit like an old motion picture, with distorted, grainy images, and sound that was slightly out of sync. Makoto held a hand to his head and closed his eyes. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and he felt dizzy. His whole body was starting to shake. H-Haru... Finally, everything went black, and he passed out onto the bank of the river.
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He woke up in his darkened room, warm and snug beneath a quilt. For a moment, it seemed as though the whole incident with Haru had simply been a horrible dream. But no…something about the way he remembered it told him that it was real. He sat bolt upright in bed, eyes wide with fear. The only thought in his mind was…where's Haru?
He leapt out of bed in a panic and ran outside, into the twilight of the evening. He needed to see Haru's face. He needed to make sure that his friend was ok. He was fully prepared to run all the way to Haru's house, but it turned out to be unnecessary. The black-haired boy was sitting on the steps of the shrine across the way, looking off toward the ocean. He turned a little at the sound of Makoto's footsteps, and his eyes widened slightly when the brown-haired boy came running toward him. Makoto threw himself at Haru, tackling him in a hug. When he felt the black-haired boy hugging back, everything was right with the world again.
"I'm so glad you're ok," he said, refusing to let go. "There was a moment where I thought for sure…that you weren't gonna make it." He squeezed the black-haired boy even tighter, burying his face in Haru's shoulder. Tears threatened to escape his eyes. "I don't know what I'd have done, if you'd died."
"Well, I didn't," Haru muttered in a slightly choked voice. "Although…I might, if you don't stop squeezing all the air out of my lungs."
Makoto immediately loosened his grip. "Sorry." He looked at Haru, and although the black-haired boy said nothing, his ocean-blue eyes were glimmering with gratefulness.
Makoto smiled and sat down on the step next to Haru. "In any case, I'm glad you're ok," he said. The two boys were quiet for a moment as they gazed out at the town below them.
"Haru?" The black-haired boy turned a little at the sound of his name. His blue eyes were glistening beautifully in the evening light. Makoto looked at him for a long moment, saying nothing. He just wanted to look at Haru's face a little more, to reassure himself that the black-haired boy was really ok.
"What?," Haru asked, in his trademark, mildly annoyed tone. Just hearing Haru's voice made Makoto smile.
"Nothing," he said, turning back to look at the setting sun again.
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Their lives resumed their normal rhythm, although, at Makoto's request, they didn't go to the river anymore. They did, however, spend a lot of time at Makoto's house, playing video games, eating popsicles, and generally staying away from all bodies of water. Finally, Haru got fed up with Makoto's over-protectiveness and dragged him to the pool. Makoto couldn't enjoy himself, though: he was too consumed with worrying over Haru. The black-haired boy seemed to brush off the near-drowning incident like it was no big deal, but Makoto couldn't do the same. Seeing his best friend almost drown like that had shaken him to the core. Still, he did his best to fight his fear, for Haru's sake.
Unfortunately, a fear as powerful as Makoto's could only be held off for so long. Suddenly, he found himself paralyzed, completely overcome with terror. He could feel that nameless thing coming for him, reaching out with its watery claws to pull him down into the depths. Haru had to lead him gently out of the pool: he couldn't move on his own, couldn't speak. He was trembling from head to toe. The black-haired boy wrapped him in a towel and sat with him in a quiet corner until his shaking eased. They never spoke of it after that day, but Haru didn't try to force him to play in the water anymore. They still went to the pool together sometimes, but the brown-haired boy always remained on the sidelines, watching over his friend with a certain amount of fearfulness in his heart.
"Are you joining the swim team again this year?," he asked Haru one day as they walked back from the pool. It was an evening near the end of the summer, and the sun hung low on the horizon, bathing everything in a red-orange glow.
Haru hesitated a moment before replying. "I don't think so," he murmured. Makoto was surprised, but oddly relieved. He'd already decided that he would have to quit, but it wouldn't seem quite as strange, if they both decided to quit together. "Don't think that it's because of what happened at the river, though," the black-haired boy added. "That didn't scare me. I just…don't want to compete anymore. I'm sick of it. I'd rather just swim alone."
Makoto's ears sharpened at those last words. "Don't go swimming alone, Haru," he murmured. A short silence followed, heavy with unspoken words.
"I'll be fine, Makoto," Haru murmured finally. "That thing at the river…that was a fluke. An accident. If I hadn't hit my head, it never would have happened." He looked Makoto in the eye. "I can take care of myself in the water," he said quietly.
Makoto wished that he could believe that, and trust his best friend's word. "I know," he said, even though he didn't.
"The water wouldn't hurt me."
But it did.
Another heavy silence filled the air.
"I don't think I'll join, either," Makoto went on, not looking at Haru. He walked forward a few more steps before he realized that Haru was no longer at his side. He turned to look back: the black-haired boy had come to a stop in the middle of the path, and was looking at him with those unreadable blue eyes.
"It better not be because of what happened to me." Haru's quiet voice could barely be heard, even in the peaceful evening air. His eyes had narrowed almost imperceptibly, as though the very thought of Makoto quitting the team made him angry. Makoto knew exactly what the black-haired boy was thinking. Even though Makoto never said as much, both of them knew that his water phobia was worsening because of that day in the river. If that phobia was what drove Makoto to quit the team…Haru would feel responsible.
"No." For the first time in his life, Makoto told a little white lie. "It's not that. I just…don't feel like doing it anymore. Now that you're not going to be on the team…I don't really care. It's no fun without you."
Haru looked at him long and hard. "Whatever you want to do," he said finally. He didn't look entirely convinced, but he came forward and started walking next to Makoto again.
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Neither boy joined the swim team when it came time to sign up. Instead, Haru began to draw more, honing his skills with sketches of Makoto and the occasional sea creature. Makoto liked Haru's drawings: they always looked very lifelike, even when he drew things like merman Makoto, or a group of baby sea turtles swimming through the classroom.
The black-haired boy also started running. It was a habit he'd picked up from Rin, originally designed to improve his leg strength for swimming, but even after he quit the swim team, the habit somehow stuck. Makoto joined him sometimes, jogging with him on the road along the beach. Their runs were peaceful. Neither boy felt an overwhelming need to talk: they just ran side by side, enjoying each other's company. Haru still went swimming in the ocean as often as he could, but Makoto stayed on the beach. Ever since the incident in the river…he just didn't feel comfortable being in the water, any water. He could always feel that dangerous something, lurking just below the surface: just thinking about it made him freeze up in fear.
At night, Haru would come over, and they would go out to the shrine steps and watch the sun set. Once it was dark, they would lie back and gaze at the stars. Sometimes, Haru would sleep over, borrowing half of Makoto's bed. They spent most of their time together. They didn't really have anyone else: Rin had gone off to Australia, and Nagisa had disappeared off the face of the Earth. Supposedly, the blonde boy and his family had gone away for a while, to take care of a sick relative: that was what Makoto had heard, anyway. He missed the both of them, and he suspected that Haru did, too, although the black-haired boy never said as much. Still…at least they had each other.
A year later, Haru's parents moved away, leaving their son behind so that he could attend school with Makoto. The black-haired boy began spending more time alone, skipping classes occasionally if the weather was nice. Makoto tried to get him to go as often as possible: he always went up to Haru's house in the morning, if the black-haired boy didn't meet him on the steps. But he couldn't always convince Haru that classes were worthwhile. The black-haired boy much preferred to spend his time in the water, freeing himself from all the world's complications. Makoto understood, but he often worried while Haru was away. Just the thought of coming home to the news of Haru's death made him tremble at his desk. He always hurried home a little faster, on the days that Haru skipped school: fortunately, though, his worries were always unfounded. Haru was always there, sitting on the stone steps, petting one of the many neighborhood cats while his damp hair dried in the sun.
They went on like this for years, not thinking of swimming competitions or anything else related to their elementary school days. Then, one day, Nagisa returned.
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Nagisa's sudden reappearance took Makoto by surprise: the blonde boy ambushed him one day at school, while he was on his way to the bathroom.
"Mako-chan??" An overly-excited exclamation made him stop and turn. A blonde-haired boy that he didn't quite recognize was running through the hall to catch up with him.
"Mako-chan!" Finally, the brunette boy realized who it was.
"Nagisa?" The blonde boy burst into a grin, thrilled that Makoto remembered him.
"I haven't seen you in years, Mako-chan!," he exclaimed. "How've you been?"
"Fine," Makoto replied. "Where have you been the past few years?"
"I went to a different middle school," Nagisa explained. "My parents thought it would be better for my 'academic development,' but it didn't really do any good: my grades still suck." He shrugged. "Anyway, I was hoping I'd run into you," he continued. "I really want to start up the swim club again! You'll join, right?"
Makoto hesitated. He hadn't been swimming in a long time, and as much as he didn't want to admit it…he was terrified. He still had occasional flashbacks to that day in the river, horrible visions of Haru's lifeless face. He'd seen something in the water that day, something dark and evil. Something that was always waiting to take another victim into its depths. Things like that couldn't be shaken off lightly, no matter how much Makoto told himself that it was all in his mind.
"Maybe," he said noncommittally. He decided that he would need to talk to Haru first. If Haru joined…then he would probably join, too.
"Aww, come on, Mako-chan!," Nagisa whined as he clung to the brown-haired boy's arm. "You used to be the best at backstroke. And we need at least four people for it to be a real club."
"I'll think about it," Makoto promised. "But I have to get back to class."
Nagisa sighed. "Ok, Mako-chan," he said. "But keep thinking about it, ok? I'll see you later!"
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After school, Makoto met up with Haru, who'd ditched out of school to go swimming in the sea. "You actually missed something interesting today," he said as they set off for their daily run along the shore. Haru didn't reply, but he glanced over with some degree of interest. "Nagisa's back."
Haru's expression perked up at little. "Nagisa?" They ran in silence for a moment while Haru digested this new information. "What's he doing back?," the black-haired boy murmured finally.
"I guess he goes to our school now," Makoto explained. "He says he's trying to start up the swim club again, and he asked me to join. I'm sure he'll ask you too, when he sees you."
Haru rolled his eyes. "Great. What did you say to him?"
"I said I'd think about it," Makoto replied. "I don't know if I want to join, though."
"Me neither," the black-haired boy murmured. "I swim plenty by myself. I like swimming free."
Makoto considered these words for a moment. "...So, you won't be joining, then?," he asked.
Haru's answer surprised him. "We'll see," he said, looking straight ahead. "With Nagisa involved…I'll probably get roped in eventually. Just like last time." Haru's eyes looked far away, and Makoto could tell that they were both remembering the same thing. They ran the rest of their route in silence.
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The next day, Haru was nearly late to class. He snuck in the door and sat down just as the bell rang.
"Where were you?," Makoto murmured as the black-haired boy took his seat in the corner.
"I ran into Nagisa in the bathroom," Haru explained. He pulled out his notebook and started to doodle as the teacher began her lesson.
"Did he ask you about the swim club?"
Haru nodded, not looking up.
"…And?"
"I think I'm joining." Makoto's eyes widened: he couldn't keep the surprised look off his face. He was about to ask why when he noticed the teacher watching them, giving them a warning glare. He quickly turned his attention to the board instead.
When it came time for lunch, he and Haru went up to their customary spot on the roof. The sun was shining brightly, and the sky was a clear, perfect blue.
"It's so nice out today," he remarked, looking around. Haru said nothing, but it was obvious that he agreed. They sat down, and Haru turned to look out at the sea, his eyes glinting like the sun-kissed waves of the ocean.
Makoto was about to ask him about the swim club when Nagisa appeared out of nowhere and plunked himself down next to Haru. "So, have you thought about joining the swim club again, Mako-chan?," he asked eagerly. "We really need you, you know."
Haru nodded. "You should join," he murmured, eating a small mouthful of rice. "Like I said…I'm joining."
Makoto still felt uncertain. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I haven't been swimming in a long time."
"But we need you," Nagisa said. "Please?"
Makoto considered the two of them for a moment: Nagisa was giving him a sad-eyed puppy face, and Haru was glaring at him in a way that said, If you leave me alone with this lunatic, I'm not speaking to you for a month.
"…Fine," he said reluctantly. "But I'm only swimming backstroke."
"Like I'd ask you to swim anything else," Nagisa said with a grin. "Thanks, Mako-chan." He pulled out the bento box he'd brought with him and began to eat. "I met this guy in my class, Ryugazaki Rei, and he's going to join, too."
"He said he would?," Makoto asked.
"Well…he hasn't actually agreed yet. He…kind of hates the idea of swimming. But I'm working on it, Mako-chan, don't you worry. We'll have a team yet."
Makoto chuckled. Nagisa hadn't changed a bit.
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Finally, on the walk home from school, Makoto had an opportunity to talk to Haru alone. "So you're really joining the team?," he asked as he handed Haru half of their double-sticked popsicle.
"Yeah," Haru said. "Why? Is it so hard to believe?"
"Well…I just thought you didn't like the competition."
"I don't. I just want to swim. But…Nagisa said that he could get us our own pool. A real pool." His eyes sparkled lightly at the thought.
"Well…since you guys need an extra person, I guess I'll join," Makoto said. "I mean, it'll be nice to swim together again, right?"
The black-haired boy was quiet for a moment. "Are you sure you're ok with it, though?," he murmured.
"Of course," Makoto replied. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Haru hesitated, not wanting to remind Makoto of his phobia. "…Well…you haven't been in the water since we were twelve…"
"I have so," the brown-haired boy argued.
"Name one time."
Makoto couldn't, and both of them knew it. "Well, then it's time I tried it again," he deflected. "Besides, I'm only swimming the backstroke. That's not so bad." Backstroke had always been his favorite: it was the only stroke that didn't fill him with a sense of absolute terror when he swam it.
Haru didn't look convinced, but he'd never been one to press things like this. "As long as you think it's ok," he said finally.
"I'll be fine," Makoto said, flashing him a reassuring smile.
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The next day, the newly formed swim team met up after school, next to the school's old pool. The pool itself was empty, of course, and it hadn't been used for years, but it still seemed like the most logical place for the swim team to meet. By the time Makoto and Haru arrived, the others were already there. Makoto recognized Nagisa, and Rin's little sister Gou: he greeted her with a smile, and she bowed shyly in return. There was also a new face in the group: a quiet young man with indigo hair and bright red glasses, who was standing between Nagisa and Gou, and looking a little less than thrilled to be there.
"This is Rei-chan," Nagisa said by way of cheerful introduction. "He's in my class. He wanted to join track, but I got him to join us instead!" Rei gave the group a half-hearted wave before adjusting his glasses haughtily.
"I still don't know if I'm joining for sure," he clarified. "But I promised Nagisa-kun that I'd at least come to this meeting, so…here I am."
Nagisa ignored Rei's quiet qualification. "I'm so happy we're all going to be swimming together," he said with a sunny smile. "Now, I think that the first thing we should do is pick a team captain!" He examined the members of the circle with a comically serious expression on his face. "Hmm…I think Mako-chan would make an excellent captain," he said finally. "I'll be secretary, and Rei-chan can be vice-captain, since that position has no real duties anyway. Gou-chan, you can be in charge of our training regimens."
"It's pronounced 'Kou,'" the red-haired girl muttered, shooting Nagisa a glare.
"What about Haru?"
An awkward silence fell. Makoto got the distinct impression that he'd said something wrong, although he couldn't imagine what. Gou and Rei looked mildly confused, but a certain sadness crept into Nagisa's eyes. He was the first to realize the true, heartbreaking implications of Makoto's simple question.
"Mako-chan…" For once, Nagisa looked uncertain. "…Haru-chan is dead."
Another horrible silence fell as Makoto stared at the blonde-haired boy, trying to comprehend his words.
"What?…" Makoto's eyes began to glimmer sadly at the mere thought. "What do you mean? He's right here." He turned to look, but the space next to him was empty.
"Don't you remember?," Nagisa said sadly. "He died in the river, when we were twelve. Right after we won that last relay. You were there, weren't you?"
Makoto pulled his friend out of the water, but it was too late. Haru's eyes didn't open, and he never started breathing again. The police came, and ambulances. They had to pull Makoto off of Haru's lifeless form, telling him that it was useless: "I'm sorry, but…your friend is gone." One of the men from the ambulance laid a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, but it didn't help. Makoto was numb: he couldn't comprehend the dead, lifeless thing that had been Haru, up until a few moments ago. He watched as they loaded Haru's body into the ambulance and drove away. Only when it was out of sight did he begin to shake.
Three days later, the funeral was held. Makoto was like a zombie for that period of time, right up until it was his turn to step forward and pay his respects. Then, something broke inside of him, and he cried for three days straight. He didn't eat, or sleep, or bathe: he simply laid in bed, paralyzed and shaking with fear and grief. Then, on the fourth day, he woke up and began to behave normally, as though nothing had ever happened. He could do that then, because everything from that week without Haru had been pushed away and forgotten, hidden deep within the recesses of his mind. The only thing that changed was that he refused to swim competitively anymore. In fact, he didn't go swimming at all, although he was sometimes caught gazing into the swimming pool with a pensive look on his face. His parents never caught on to the fact that he was still seeing Haru: in its brilliant way, his subconscious kept the delusion a secret, keeping the brown-haired boy protected from the truth he couldn't face.
Rin moved to Australia the day after Haru's funeral; he was actually supposed to have gone earlier, but he'd asked his parents to let him stay a little longer, so that he could say goodbye to his friend. Nagisa went to attend a different school. They didn't see each other again after Haru's funeral. Makoto was the only one left behind.
By the start of the new school year, the brown-haired boy seemed fine, functional. Everyone knew, of course, that Haru had died, but they were all very careful to avoid mentioning him around Makoto. The brown-haired boy always insisted on saving the seat next to him, but no one ever knew why. He was always sitting next to an open seat, although as far as anyone could tell, no one ever sat with him. In fact, no matter where he went, Makoto was always alone. He had no friends: he spent all his time sitting off to the side by himself. Sometimes, his classmates thought they heard him talking to himself, but they could never quite be sure. Most people avoided him, not knowing what to say, but he didn't seem to mind. He could often be seen going up to Haru's house, or sitting on the steps of the old stone shrine. He spent most of his time there, talking to the air.
But the chairs were empty. No teacher called Haru's name anymore. Haru's house stood vacant: no one had lived there since Haru's parents moved away, to cope with their son's untimely death. There wasn't anyone sitting with Makoto at lunch. There wasn't anyone sleeping over at his house, or running along the beach with him, or star-gazing with him at night.
He was alone. He'd been alone since that fateful day, when Haru drowned in the currents of the river.
"No." Makoto refused to believe it. "Haru isn't dead. He's been here the whole time!" He saw Haru standing next to Nagisa again, but now…something about the black-haired boy didn't seem quite right. He seemed less substantial, somehow. There was an odd contrast, between the quality of Haru's being and that of Nagisa's. "He's standing right next to you," Makoto said desperately. "Can't you see?"
Nagisa looked to his right: in Makoto's mind, he was looking straight at Haru. But he didn't seem to see the black-haired boy at all. He turned back to Makoto with a nervous look in his eyes.
"There's no one there, Mako-chan."
As if driven away by Nagisa's words, Haru began to fade. Tears welled up in Makoto's eyes. "No," he said again. "He's right there. He's alive. He's alive!" His voice grew more and more desperate with every word. He could see Haru disappearing, right in front of him. The black-haired boy faded into nothingness, still wearing that tiny smile.
"No…Haru, come back." Makoto moved forward to grasp at Haru's imaginary wrist, but his fingers touched nothing but air. "Haru, come back!" He was beginning to sob now. His best friend was dead. He'd known it all along, in some deep dark corner of his mind, but he'd kept that knowledge firmly hidden from himself. Now, Nagisa's simple assertion had unlocked that knowledge, and Makoto knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the blonde-haired boy was telling the truth. Haru was dead, and had been for years.
"Haru, come back!" Makoto's pleas were becoming desperate now. He needed Haru. Without Haru, he couldn't live. If you're not there, it's meaningless. His sobbing overwhelmed him, to the point where he couldn't stand. He collapsed onto his knees and wept. A soft pair of arms embraced him, and for a moment, he thought it was Haru.
"Mako-chan, he's gone." Nagisa's voice shattered the wishful illusion. Makoto's entire consciousness was thrown into the oblivion of grief. Everything else was white noise: he couldn't see anything but Haru's face, or feel anything except soul-crushing sadness.
"I LET HIM DIE," he sobbed violently. "I couldn't save him…I let him down…" His words were barely coherent. "I was supposed to be his best friend, but I failed, I let him die…" He couldn't formulate words anymore: all he could do was howl in grief. Finally, one word became intelligible: Haru's name. Makoto moaned Haru's name over and over, a heart-breaking lament for his long lost friend.
Somehow, Nagisa managed to get him home. Makoto himself had no memory of how. But eventually, when the intensity of his grief began to ebb, he realized that he was at home, in bed. It was strikingly reminiscent of that day, all those years ago, when he'd gone out in a panic to search for Haru, and found him waiting on the steps of the shrine. In fact, it seemed so similar that for a moment, Makoto thought it might all have been some kind of twisted nightmare. Maybe he'd only dreamed that Haru was dead. He leapt out of bed and went outside. His heart fell a little when there was no Haru waiting for him on the steps. Filled with a sense of urgency, he ran up to Haru's house. He was searching for the smell of mackerel sizzling on the stove, for the soft roar of bath water being run. But the house was silent. Makoto peered through the window, and saw that all of the furnishings were gone. The house was completely empty: it was obvious that no one lived there now.
Tears filled Makoto's eyes, blurring his vision. It can't be. He didn't know what to believe anymore. This seemed real, but…his time with Haru had felt real, too. He could still hear Haru chuckling quietly. He could see Haru's bright blue eyes, sparkling with life. It was too real, to be a figment of his imagination.
He didn't know what to do, what to think. He began wandering through the streets, searching for something that couldn't be found. He walked for hours. Finally, he found himself at the foot of a graveyard: if he turned around, he had a perfect view of the sea, and the sun setting over it. He gazed at the heartbreakingly beautiful scene for a moment before turning and going into the cemetery. His feet moved automatically, as though tracing a familiar path, but Makoto was sure that he had never been there before. Finally, his legs stopped in front of a small grave. He read the inscription on the dark, rectangular stone: it was marked, simply, "Nanase Haruka, Age 12."
But he was so real.
Makoto couldn't reconcile this physical, concrete truth with the one that had lived inside his brain for five years. He simply couldn't understand. Finally, he came to the only conclusion that made sense: he had to be dreaming again.
But how does one wake up from such a horrible nightmare?
Makoto pondered this for a moment. He thought of something that Haru had told him once: that you can never really die, in a dream. Right when you're about to die…you'll just wake up.
Suddenly, he knew exactly what to do.
He would be reunited with Haru again. No matter what.
He left the cemetery and stood at the edge of the road. Beyond the metal railing, there was a steep cliff that dropped off into the sea. He climbed over the railing, pausing for a moment on the precipice.
"I'm coming, Haru," he murmured. He closed his eyes: he could almost hear Haru's voice, calling him in the wind. Calling for him to wake up.
He jumped.
Just one more second, he thought as the wind rushed over his face.
I'm coming, Haru.