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There’s a strange stillness to the air.
For a moment, it feels as if you’re stuck between seconds. Waiting for the next breeze to rustle the leaves of the lush trees towering above, waiting for the birds to share their songs once more, waiting for the next beat of your own heart against your chest. Your body feels hollow, your mind silent, fingers and toes numb.
It’s almost like a dream.
You half-expect to turn and see him sitting beside you, a bright smile full of life on those beautiful lips of his, an undying love in his kind eyes, a gentle blush dusting his cheeks framed by long, ebony strands of silky hair. The face you’re met with is the same, but the smile has lost its purity. Eyes their adoration. Cheeks their rosiness. And that hopeful glance you seem to have developed a habit of sending towards his forehead brings a cold wave of reality to once more knock down the walls of naivete you’d been building up in a futile effort to stay safe. To stay longer.
When you see that line only drawn thin by the stitches threaded through his fair skin, you’re launched back into the next second of time. But it all feels to be too much, all at once. Suddenly, the whispering of the leaves is too loud. The birds too chatty. The beating of your heart too fast and intense.
It’s not him. Don’t forget that.
But the way your name sounds when it rolls off his tongue always draws you in and fills you with the yearning that’s kept you with him for so long. And you’re so caught up in trying to conjure the sweetest memories of each of its utterances that you forget to respond to him.
“Princess?” With a small jolt, you snap to attention once more, eyelids fluttering as your eyes finally focus on his face. To your chagrin, his lips are twisted into one of those smirks that used to be given playfully, but now seemed to appear more out of cruelty than anything else. “You always did like it when he called you that, didn’t you? Gets your attention every time.”
You try your best to keep your gaze steely, shielded from any emotion that he could take and further manipulate you with, as he’s done with three of your strongest feelings: love, hope, and denial. Ignoring his jab seems to be the best course of action, so you simply ask, “Did you need something?”
“I asked if you were leaving soon to wherever it is you’re taking… whatever their names are.” The way he speaks so flippantly about the two girls you’d practically raised together reignites the embers of anger than had been extinguished by your romantic fantasizing about the past.
It’s not him.
Trying to act unbothered as usual, you interject, “Nanako and Mimiko.” Your gaze settles back on the courtyard bathed in warm hues by the fiery afternoon sun. You fear your eyes may waver with the weight of your lie if you hold it on him instead. “We’re probably going to leave for the street markets downtown in a few minutes.”
He sighs, “It’s a shame. I would’ve liked to spend the evening with you.”
And I the rest of my life with Suguru. Guess we don’t always get what we want.
“Mm? Why’s that?” you wonder aloud.
Out of the corner of your sight, you notice the fingers he’s using to thread through a section of his hair come to rest on his chin, which he turns toward you. And you nearly beg yourself not to tear your attention away from the peaceful scene before you in the fears that your resolve will crumble under his gaze and deceptively kind words. It proves to be an impossible feat, though, since the familiarity of his appearance is the magnet that’s kept you by his side for so long.
With a shrug and a somewhat smug smile spread across his lips, he answers, “Well, let’s just say that having another body is nice, but having one of a man loved by a beautiful woman is even better—for reasons I’m sure you understand.” The heat of anger and the chill of hope shattered once more clash with one another, creating an unnerving storm of emotions that threaten the integrity of your judgment. But you remain silent, swallowing the uncomfortable lump in your throat when he adds, “Aside from that, he’s fairly quiet and far less annoying whenever you’re around. Must not want to rock the boat and do something that’ll upset his beloved, huh?”
The hand he’s using to prop up his chin suddenly darts for his neck as a sign of your true lover’s retaliation against the words of his parasite. Small acts of resistance used to give you hope. Now, they just break your heart, since the great deal of energy required on his part to regain a fleeting ounce of control is simply sneered at and used as ammunition for a cruel joke by his body’s hostile invader.
“Seems like that one hit a nerve, didn’t it?” he chuckles, baring his teeth in a grin so easily perceived as playful, but so malicious in intent as he peels his hand away from his neck. Keeping the hatred burning within you towards the curse who’d stolen your lover’s body from showing in your eyes or spilling from your mouth in screams of rage is nothing short of a challenge. The sound of your phone’s alarm chiming in your pocket, however, douses the flames, leaving a hollow sensation of emptiness where the fire had been ravaging your soul just seconds ago.
It’s time.
“Well,” you say, taking a deep breath and pulling yourself out of the tense moment as you put an end to the ringing, “the girls and I should get going now. I have to check and make sure they’re ready.”
With a small hum, he murmurs, “Guess I’ll have to find something to pass the time while you’re gone. Maybe I’ll see if Mahito wants to come to Shibuya with me. Though I’d much rather have you as my company.”
Standing from your chair to approach his sets your heart racing and tangles your nerves into knots of anxiety that make you hesitate—start rethinking your plan, your feelings, and thoughts, wondering if you might’ve been wrong for making the move you’re about to. However, taking his face in your hands to plant the sweetest of kisses against his lips before pausing to lock eyes with him solidifies your decision, as hard as it may be.
You remember when the adoration he felt towards you burning behind his gaze used to ignite a fire within you—when you truly felt the depth of his love. But the flame has since been snuffed, and not a single flicker seems to remain. When you look into his eyes now, all you see is an unending darkness deeper than you can fathom. The small promises of love shared between you feel as if they’re spoken out of routine rather than true feelings. His body feels different; cold against yours in the night, hands barely absorbing any of the heat radiating from your warm skin. He’s not who he was. And you can never escape that fact, no matter how hard you try to ignore it.
Liberation was to come, but a rise from the ashes meant a certain kind of death before rebirth. The death of things and relationships held onto that had become more of a weight on your shoulders than a source of light and happiness.
Denial had kept you chained to him, and threatens to do so even now, as you gauge his chocolate-colored irises for even the most minute display of emotion. The understanding once again that the cold truth is indeed staring you directly in the face and accepting that the situation is one you can’t alter with hope, though, is what has you planting another kiss against his forehead—purposely avoiding the stitches there since they’re not true to his form.
“I love you so much, Suguru. I’ll help you rest soon,” you tell him, lips brushing against his fair skin before you pull away.
The hand he’d brought to the back of your arm in an oddly gentle gesture tightens around the fabric of your sweater for an instant, and you wonder what Suguru’s words are to you in this moment. Thankfully, they’re worth mentioning to you, probably as a ploy to further squeeze the vice this wretched curse has been holding around you, but you’re thankful to hear them all the same. Sometimes, ignorance truly was bliss, but you’ve found that a great deal of your agony often stems from not knowing.
“He loves you too.”
A small smile shines on your lips with a quiver you work your hardest to still. Placing your hand over his, feeling his fingers unclench as he relinquishes control once more, you assure him, “I’ll be back, okay?”
He nods. “Have fun.”
With that said, you move away from him and walk back into your bedroom on legs that threaten to give out the moment you’re out of his eyesight. Resistance fueled by that same naïve hope rests heavily in your feet, begging you to give him one more chance, to wait a little longer, to stay by his side. You do pause halfway inside the room, though, and let temptation bring your gaze over your shoulder to admire him one last time.
The scene before you seems yet again like both a distant memory and a dream. His long strands of hair cascading over the back of his chair in a waterfall of midnight. The wind sending waves of silk rolling across the robes draped over his figure. A few leaves floating down to the wooden deck each time the breeze whistles through the branches above. There’s a brief serenity and sense of peace to it all that helps you come to terms with leaving—with sending this part of your life up in flames to emerge anew—knowing he has the same, beautiful memories to hold onto that you do.
Turning away, you continue through the bedroom, keeping your pace steady as you exit the living quarters you share with him and find that occupied by Nanako and Mimiko. They open the door, backpacks slung over their arms, eyes heavy with a sadness that nearly breaks your heart. The room behind them is eerily empty, considering all the trinkets and decorations they’d amassed during their lifetimes.
Nanako brushes her light hair away from her face as she hands over the duffel bag packed with the last of your belongings you’d asked them to hold on to. There are no words exchanged between the three of you aside from reassurances that nothing’s been forgotten; that what you wear on your shoulders holds your entire lives—or at least a better part of them. With the way they walk closely at either side of you, it’s clear that the grief overcoming you is being shared between all three of you.
Stepping through the door of the lush domain you’d called home brings you to the unassuming apartment complex it had been skillfully hidden inside of. The slightly musty smell of the city and distant sirens, horns honking, and the hissing of tires across streets still wet with rain that reflect the candied hues of the cloudy sky above reach your senses, nearly assaulting them after being immersed in such sweet solitude. The girls are too disillusioned to pull their phones out of their bags and distract themselves, and their eyes mindlessly flit about the scenery and people around you as you make your way to a nearby florist.
Another scheduled detour on your path to asylum brings the three of you to a large tree nestled so seamlessly amongst the others in a forest near a familiar landmark that nobody would ever think to question its importance, but would be quick to question how you knew its exact location. Suguru had chosen it because of the strange twist in its trunk, and it had been one you had spent many a warm day sitting beneath with his head nestled in your lap, book he’d been attempting to read splayed across his face as a sunshade instead. Later on in your lives, it had served as an escape from the demands of everyone in the “family” he had amassed, but Nanako and Mimiko had been there to join you as well.
Now, your head is hung in grieving rather than in an attempt to peer beneath Suguru’s book and see if any of the ink from the pages had come off on his face. Your eyes are filled with yearning and heartache rather than love from gazing into his after showering his lips with the sweetest of kisses. The engagement ring on your finger glitters dimly in the dying sunlight—a sign of a promise made but a dream cut short.
Mimiko’s the first to break the heavy silence by whispering, “Since we’re here doing this… does that mean Master Getou’s not coming back?”
“It’s just the three of us now,” you reply, voice straining to sound strong around the lump in your throat.
Nanako’s gaze feels as if it’s piercing your soul when you meet it with your own. But it’s not the same frightening look she gives her targets; rather one of a stark epiphany. “We’re going to have to kill that man in the robes… aren’t we?”
Her words hang in the damp air without a reply for a substantial amount of time before you nod. “Most likely. It’s the only way he’ll finally be able to rest peacefully.” Upon noticing both of their eyes immediately fill with tears, you wrap an arm around each of their shoulders, pulling them into your embrace. “But let’s not think about that until later, after we get to where we need to go, okay?”
Their quiet sniffles disturb the silence, and it takes a few moments until they move out of your arms to place the small bundles of flowers in their hands at the base of the tree. You allow them the time to pass along their messages to your dearly departed fiancé before they give you the space to do the same. With a heavy heart, you kneel in front of the tree, fingers tightly clasped around the stems of the arrangement you’d gathered since you know, deep within you, that releasing them means truly letting him go.
“We’ll be together again another day, Suguru.”
You pause, grip unrelenting around the small bundle of flowers, to ponder the implications of your words. Of how they came off sounding as if you fully expected for him to return to you in this lifetime, when, in fact, he had already passed on and didn’t need to be cursed any further by your selfish, naïve wishes.
“No.” The word leaves your mouth weakly and tears swim in your eyes, turning the scene before you into a blurry mess of faded colors. “I promised you I would keep living if anything happened to you, and that’s what I’ll do. I’ll go on for as long as I can before we see each other again. So…” Taking a deep breath, your fingers finally begin to uncurl around his parting gift so you can set it down between Nanako’s and Mimiko’s, and you find the strength to say, with finality:
“We’ll be together in another lifetime, my love.”