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A balmy breeze swept up the riverbank, rustling the grass and tickling Sara’s bangs against her forehead. She hugged her knees and stared solemnly at the water; its surface flashed gold and pink, rippling and glittering with broken reflections of the setting sun. Crickets chirped against the backdrop of its gentle murmur. In spite of the languid atmosphere, Sara found herself unable to relax.
“We should be prepping for our entrance exams,” she said out loud, twisting a plucked daisy between her fingers. “They’re coming up soon. Do you want to study tomorrow?”
“Aw, Sara, c’mon… You’re stressing me out.” Joe was sprawled beside her, gazing up at the clouds, and he tilted his head to eye her instead. “It’s only summer break! Just relax.”
Sara exhaled. As much as Joe’s blithe cheer bolstered her, sometimes she couldn’t help but worry for him. He drifted like a kite, and if she didn’t tug his string now and then, who knew where he’d float off to? It was already their final year, and graduation loomed ever closer on the horizon.
“What do you want to study in university?” she asked. Joe glanced away in discomfort.
“Huh? Um, I haven’t decided yet. I’d say you sound like my parents, but they haven’t actually talked to me about this…” He propped himself on his elbows and began to rummage through his backpack. Foil crinkled as he popped open a bag of chips. “Anyway, careers aren’t everything, right? I just want to make enough to help my family, and not worry about spending when I go out.” He proffered the open bag, and Sara fished her fingers in.
“A cushy office job wouldn’t be the worst,” Joe added, popping a chip into his mouth.
“You’ll have to cut that hair,” Sara teased. She flicked a crumb from his t-shirt as he crunched and swallowed.
“Ah, don’t remind me!” His grin was strained. “What about you, Sara? Are you going to be a professional swordslady? You’re smart, so you could do anything.”
“I want to study law,” she replied, and the confidence of her reply surprised her. When had she decided that…? She supposed her conviction solidified in light of the unpunished crimes and injustices she’d encountered firsthand. Not to mention, debate was a skill she had a recently unearthed affinity for. Her brow knitted faintly as more words unspooled from her mouth. “I’m preparing my application to Waseda.”
“Wow!” Joe sat up in earnest, and his wide eyes shone with admiration. “They’ll call you the Courtroom Samurai, Guardian of Justice!” He leaned forward and nudged her arm. “Hey, let me be your secretary! I mean, I’m pretty cute, and I make great coffee. I’ll get you pastries and everything.”
Sara’s cheeks flushed, and a smile broke across her face as Joe winked and extended a handshake. She tucked her daisy behind his ear and grasped his warm palm.
“Okay, it’s a deal. You’re hired, Mr. Tazuna!”
A sudden ache wracked Sara’s skull—she opened her eyes to find herself seated in a diner booth. Had she fallen asleep…? The window to her side told her it was nighttime, and rain spattered in rivulets down the glass. She blinked as a salaryman hurried past down the sidewalk; his gaudy umbrella was bright yellow and patterned with cartoon bones. He veered the corner, and the diner door jangled as he stepped inside.
He was Joe. Older, taller, and his wild brown locks had been cropped and combed, but Sara would recognize her best friend anywhere. She stared while he craned his neck to scan the room, and her heart hammered when he caught her gaze. His face lit up with a familiar boyish grin. He strode toward her, chipped dog keychain swaying from his leather briefcase.
“Sorry I’m late! I missed the train and tried to text you.” He dropped into the seat across from her and heaved a sigh. “Ahh, I’m beat! Why is sitting in a cubicle all day so exhausting?”
Sara parted her lips, but the air stuck in her throat. She watched as he shrugged off his jacket and pushed up the sleeves of his crisp white button-up. He leaned back, draping his arms wide across the vinyl seat back, and the neon OPEN sign in the window lit his chest a lurid crimson. Dripping rain refracted like blood down his torso.
“Joe…”
Her voice was a whisper, and her throat was dry and tight.
“Hey, we should go hiking this weekend! The weather report said it’s gonna be sunny, believe it or not.”
ClickclickclickCLICKCLICKCLICK
The noise was deafening, relentless, and Sara couldn’t breathe. A waitress paused by their table; the clicking wheels of her cart fell mercifully silent. She scribbled on a notepad and took Joe’s order, and Sara was speaking too—somehow. The waitress poured them two glasses of water, grabbed her rickety cart, and proceeded to push it down the aisle.
CLICKCLICKCLICKclickclickclick
“Sara, are you okay? You look sick.” Joe leaned forward, peering in concern. Up close, Sara glimpsed the pinprick marks on the cusp of his ear where his earrings used to be.
“I’m okay,” she replied hoarsely, and inhaled a deep breath. “I just felt weird for a moment. I don’t know why.”
“I think you work too hard,” said Joe, reaching to pat her trembling hand. “Even the Courtroom Samurai needs rest now and then, you know? No offense, but your eye bags are scaring me.”
Sara turned to the window, but despite the mirrored interior, the glass was devoid of her reflection. Joe, too, was missing, and she saw only the shifting mass of patrons beyond them. Cutlery clattered, and conversing voices roared in a low din.
“Check it out, there’s karaoke across the street,” said Joe, following her gaze and pointing at a flashing pink sign. “Wanna go after we eat? I’ll sing whatever you want, just like old times! You look like you could use a good break tonight.”
Sara swallowed and nodded. Behind her, the clicking approached once more, and she shut her eyes in a surge of inexplicable grief.
Ryoko had just married. Not to Joe, of course—the culmination of Sara’s short-lived high school matchmaking career had puttered out as quickly as it started, swiftly and amicably. Sara recalled that it had taken only a single doner kebab for Joe to overcome his moping disappointment, and over a decade later, the subject of Joe and Ryoko’s “dating history” amounted to little more than the occasional tongue-in-cheek reference.
As for the groom… work and distance hadn’t allowed Sara as much time with Ryoko as she would have liked, and as such, she wasn’t close with Ryoko’s current beau, but word had it that he was strikingly similar to Sara. He was a steely-eyed man, charismatic yet imposing, and he certainly wouldn’t look out of place as a courtroom prosecutor. Instead, he worked as a physical therapist.
Sara finished washing her hands in the restroom and returned outside to the wedding venue. The galleria was resplendent with crystal chandeliers, and towering ice sculptures sparkled and glistened from atop silk-draped tables. A gorgeous white wedding cake was currently being dismantled by a swarm of ebullient guests. Ryoko’s ceremony was like a scene from a fairytale, a picture perfect happily ever after.
The walls bloomed crimson with swaths of a thousand red roses, and it suddenly occurred to Sara with jarring, unwelcome morbidity that they were all dead—a thousand dead flowers, vibrant and blossoming even after they were cut. Sara’s chest clenched; she froze, high heels rooted to the marble floor. Why…
There was the tang of blood, sharp and heady in the suffocating air. The snick of cold metal. The sick pop of punctured flesh. A hoarse cry, a wet gurgle, one long, last rasp—
“There you are!”
Sara flinched at the clap of a palm on her shoulder. She spun to see Joe—he was dressed in a tuxedo and clutching a fluted champagne glass, and he beamed at her with contagious good humor.
“Everyone’s getting married, buying houses, and having babies!” He leaned forward furtively, voice hushed and eyebrows cocked. “What’s up with that? It’s freaking me out. Are we officially old?”
Sara took a shaking breath and smiled back. She reached with weak hands to adjust Joe’s checkered bowtie, fingertips lingering upon the solid warmth of his neck.
“I’m just glad we get to be here and see it,” she said, and Joe’s grin broadened.
“Yeah! It is pretty exciting, huh? When Ryoko has a baby, we’ll get to be aunt and uncle!”
A crowd had begun to mill around them, chattering in excitement, and Sara turned just in time to see Ryoko standing on the stage, gleaming in white satin like an enchanted snow queen. A bouquet of red roses was raised in her clenched fist.
“Hey, catch!” she called out, eyes glittering with mirth as she hurled the flowers directly at Sara, who fumbled to catch them before they smacked her in the face. Velvety petals flew and fluttered to the ground.
“That wasn’t a bouquet toss!” Sara exclaimed, waving her fist in mock indignation as Ryoko dissolved into peals of giddy laughter. “That was assault, woman!”
Ryoko winked and raised a frilly garter, aiming it like a slingshot at Joe and firing abruptly. He snatched it out of the air, stumbling in surprise as the tipsy crowd squealed and cheered. A chair was dragged over amidst the commotion, and Sara quickly found herself seated in it, bewildered and clutching the hem of her bridesmaid dress. Joe knelt before her. He flashed a cheeky grin, and his face glowed bright pink.
“Ahhh, western style weddings are so weird!” he said, twirling the garter. “Wasn’t the groom supposed to throw this thing? I have no idea what we’re doing, but I’m having fun. Okay, gimme your leg—”
Sara extended her leg, and judging by the heat in her face, she was blushing like a stop light. Ryoko spectated with delight. Joe bit his lower lip in concentration, touch firm and gentle as he worked the frilly elastic band up to Sara’s mid-thigh; his fingers wavered tentatively, and his gaze darted up to her blank face. He straightened the lace and patted Sara’s knee.
“There, the ritual is all done! Now you’re not gonna be forever alone and die with ten cats.” He stood and proffered his hand to help her up, and Sara took it. “Not that you’d have to worry about that anyway. Even if everything else goes horribly wrong, you’ve always got me!”
“Joe…”
The crowd was dispersing toward the dance floor, and Sara lingered in front of him, still clutching his hand as though he’d vanish if she released it.
“I mean—“ He laughed awkwardly, gaze flickering to his feet, and his fingers gave her a squeeze. “Well, you know what I mean. I’ll never leave you all alone, and that’s a promise.” His pinky curled around hers, and Sara felt something cracking to pieces inside her chest.
“Joe,” she echoed hoarsely. Her eyes pricked hotly as she stared at the man standing before her. He looked so handsome, so happy, so alive, and she desperately willed away the sense of anguish that was splitting a chasm within her.
Joe blinked at her expression. He studied her with concern before touching her shoulder and guiding her over to the cake table.
“I guess it’s an emotional day, huh?” he said, frowning sympathetically. He cut a slice of wedding cake and poked a silver forkful towards her mouth; spun sugar ribbons festooned the fragile icing shell. “Here, eat some cake! You’ll feel better.”
Sara shook her head numbly. “I’m dreaming,” she whispered. “This is a dream. You’re not…” She took a trembling breath, and it rattled through her lungs like wind through a crypt. “Joe, you’re…”
You’re gone.
“Hm? What do you mean?” Joe stepped close, and Sara could feel the warmth radiating from his body. “I’m right here. I’m always here for you, Sara. Whenever you need me!”
Why…? This was cruel.
He set aside the plate of cake and grasped her wrists, lifting her hands toward his face. Sara’s eyes winced shut. She braced for the hard rasp of exposed skull and the slick gush of blood—instead her palms met the tender give of skin, heated and supple over Joe’s cheekbones.
“See? I’m real,” he said softly.
She opened her eyes, and his smile was blurred beyond a watery sheen. She staggered forward to embrace him, burying her face into the crook of his neck, tears of heartbreak and euphoria soaking his bowtie. His arms wrapped around her as he patted her in silent comfort.
“Joe,” she sobbed, and it was all she could utter, muffled into the fabric of his tuxedo. “Joe, Joe, Joe…”
Sara lifted her head with a start, only to find herself seated in a dim classroom. The chalkboard was scrawled with math equations; stars glittered beyond the windows, and tears were puddled and smeared upon her wooden desk. She was wearing her old high school uniform.
Just as she wobbled to a stand, the classroom door slid open, rumbling and scraping in the hushed air. The figure of a boy peeked inside, cloaked by gloom.
“Sara! I was looking for you! Did you really fall asleep in here?”
He strode over as Sara’s vision adjusted to the darkness. His hair was styled in wild spikes, and moonlight glinted off a row of hairclips. Bracelets jingled from his wrists. He looked like a kid, jarringly so, until Sara realized that this was the Joe she’d always known. This was Joe… the same as she’d seen him for the very last time…
Here beyond the hallowed doors of her memory, roaming the halls of Sonobeno High School, Joe was immortalized—forever seventeen years old, forever alive.
“Were you crying?” Joe bent close, brows furrowed, nose nearly brushing her own. “What’s wrong?”
Sara choked. He touched her shoulder, and a dam burst inside of her.
“It’s not fair,” she cried, and her ragged outburst reverberated through the empty room. Joe stared. “It’s not fair! I never had the chance—“
“Sara? What are you talking about?”
“I thought we’d have all the time in the world—“
Her knuckles clenched white, and her nails gouged her palms. Her teeth chattered as sobs wracked her lungs.
“Whoa, slow down!” Joe clutched her, eyes wide. “Take a deep breath… I’ve never seen you like this before. It’s scaring me. What happened?”
“I love you,” she spluttered. She stared pleadingly, blind with tears. “I always did! You’re my best friend, and I loved you, I still do, I’ll never stop—so come back—please Joe, please—“
Joe’s breathing was heavy in the dark, and he said nothing as he crushed her to his chest.
“I miss you so much,” she gasped, hugging him desperately. His heartbeat pounded through his chest; she squeezed her eyes shut, memorizing the sensation. The hard nub of his dog keychain was pressed between them in his breast pocket. “I miss you every day, I’ll miss you forever—just come back, please—”
“It’s okay,” he murmured, stroking her hair. His lips brushed her forehead. “It’s okay, Sara! I’m not going anywhere. I’m here with you no matter what, so cheer up, okay? I love you too.”
He drew back and touched her chin tentatively; Sara lunged forward, fingers clenched in his shirt, kissing him clumsily amidst shuddering huffs of breath. He tasted like her imagination and the salty tears dripping over her mouth.
“I love you,” she sobbed. Joe cupped her face tenderly, sweeping his thumbs to clear the wetness streaming down her cheeks. She fell quiet in the trembling cradle of his hands.
“I love you, Sara,” he whispered. His lips closed over hers, comforting and warm. She was crumpling against him, and he was blurring to blotches.
Sara’s eyes snapped open in bed. The room was silent. Her window curtains undulated gently, glowing with moonlight.
Something foreign was jutting into the side of her face, half wedged beneath her tear-stained pillow. She groped to retrieve it, and her hand stilled at the feeling of his keychain. Slowly, her fingers curled closed until the little toy dog was squeezed tight in her palm.
How old was she now? For a long moment, she couldn’t remember. She stirred like a moth in its cocoon, nightgown rumpled and skin damp with sweat. The phantom scent of his skin saturated her tangled bedsheets.
Her breathing stilled, and in the hush of the room, she began to hear the faint sounds of a trickling river and rustling grass. The ghost of a balmy summer breeze tickled her bangs against her forehead.
She closed her eyes, and he was there.
