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The five stages of grief are common knowledge. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Whenever someone dies those 5 stages are told over and over again to whoever was caught in the aftermath. Telling them in detail, all the needless information they think they know about each stage, makes people feel smart, important and capable. Some people might even do it to make the other person feel better. What everyone always forgets to mention somehow, is probably the most important piece of information regarding the 5 stages of grief: How blurry they all get. How easy it is to mistake acceptance for denial if you’re depressed enough to look for some bargaining.
For instance, when Kaori’s parents had asked Kousei if there was anything of her that he’d like to keep, he said she already had given him all he needed, and when they said if he’d ever change his mind he knew where to find them, Kousei was sure he would never take them on that offer. He felt his grief had closure. Once grief is resolved people are able to think about their lost person, more as a happy past memory and less as a painful present absence. That’s how he remembered Kaori too, which gave him the certainty that he was past grief.
When two weeks later he impulsively called asking for a yellow book, just because he remembered it on her hospital nightstand in one of the last times he went to visit her, and couldn’t bear the thought of living without knowing what it was about, he started to doubt that certainty.
The small book became his lullaby. 13 chapters about Astronomy from a philosophical point of view contained inside a bright yellow paperback cover. The type of book he’d usually never look at twice. But it was the last book she ever read. So every night for over a year a different chapter drove him to sleep. And if in one night he finished the last chapter, the next one he was starting the first all over again.
He still read it occasionally, whenever the insomnia and the lack of her presence blurred together into something only that book could appease. Ironically, maybe because it was about a subject he had no particular interest on, despite having read the book over a hundred times, he could never retain any of it. The only thing carved into his brain was a single paragraph about how gravity and objects attract.
The reason why we orbit around the sun and the moon orbits around the earth and so on. That for that to happen space time curves, it curves and modifies according to the objects attracting and being attracted. According to the philosopher responsible for that segment, a certain Ovan from Yokohama, that was the universe’s metaphor for love. No matter how far humans are, they’ll always attract each other, and find a way to modify space time to be together. They claimed we as a species did it all the time.
Maybe we do. After all, the only reason Kousei remembered that section so well, was the fact that in all his research trying to comprehend the science that allowed him to see Kaori once a month, this was the only piece that made somewhat sense.
Even so, it still didn’t make total sense to him. He searched countless times for a scientific reason that could explain how on full moons, if you fell asleep holding with your right hand the birthstone of someone dear to you that had died, you’d see said person. After all this time, 8 years next February to be exact, Kousei still hadn’t found anyone that could explain it. Few people knew of the phenomenon in the first place. The few that did, rarely cared to find the reasoning behind their precious miracle, and spent more time debating weather they had really been reunited with their loved ones, or if they were simply lucid dreaming.
Kousei often wondered how other people had come across that rarity. He wondered if someone else had come across the same yellow book and found solace in Ovan’s words. If in a lonely night at 4 am someone else had impulsively ordered the only full book they had ever wrote upon searching more about the author. If everyone else had ignored the clear warning Requiem of Grief reported, while being desperate enough to replicate it. Because that’s exactly what Kousei did.
It was three years after her passing. Kousei was 18, working to become a concert pianist. He had moved on with Tsubaki. She had always been there to support him, before, during and after the whirlwind that had been Kaori. He had been so blind to was in front of him his entire life. He was finally having the life he was supposed to have. But in some nights, it felt like the Kaori shaped solar eclipse he had stared directly at that had permanently damaged his sight.
In one of those nights he had ordered the book. In the next one, he had read said book, including the perilous story titled “Requiem of Grief”, and after finding Kaori’s birthstone, he impulsively bought it and took note of the next full moon. And when that full moon arrived, well he had already gotten to all this trouble. Falling asleep holding a Rubi seemed harmless. The logical part of him knew it wouldn’t work. The hopeful part of him cried when it did.
Kaori looked as beautiful as she did the day he had lost her. Indigo eyes that seemed to bounce between blue and brown depending on her emotions. Golden strands of hair that glinted as if they had been weaved by Rumplestiltskin himself. A smile that would render a thousand orchestras silent. The tears streaming down his face went from a small tide as he slowly approached her, afraid she’d dissipate if he were to move too fast, to a flood once he softly touched her arm and realized he could feel her.
She was crying too. Asking how this was possible. He explained it, he explained everything, everything he had ever wanted to tell her when time wasn’t in their favor. He woke up abruptly at 7 am, painfully aware how fast time flies when you’re sleeping, and with a suspicion he was about to know how slow it passes when seeing ghosts is only possible every 29 days.
In present time his suspicion was more than confirmed. Kousei Arima, 23 years old. Piano instructor. A renowned one at that, that never took more than 4 students every year, and every single parent of a piano prodigy went above and beyond to make sure their kid would be one of those 4.
Him and Tsubaki had split. The life one is supposed to have, isn’t necessarily the life one wants to live. It took Tsubaki a lot of time to accept that she deserved better. It took her a lot of time to understand that no matter how much Kousei loved her, he’d never look at her with the adoration he looked at Kaori. She had him, but it felt wrong. Her best friend was now her boyfriend. Dating alliances and kisses between classes were more than he and Kaori ever had, but not even once she ever felt like he was hers the way he was Kaori’s. He was hers because he choose to, because she was his. But he had been Kaori’s because he had been hers, from the day that he first saw her. No logical reason, no explanation, no choice. It was unavoidable. And in most days, it still felt like he still was Kaori’s.
Maybe Tsubaki was the one who couldn’t move on from the heartbreak. Maybe she was the one reading too much into the past and he had really moved on. She had been torn between telling the truth, afraid he’d lie to her, and more afraid he’d confirm her fears. In the end she didn’t have to. The first female softball scholarship at Shin-Tsuraya Institute came as a blessing in disguise. “Long distance won’t work” sounded more reasonable than “I don’t think I’ll ever stop comparing myself to your dead first love.”
He didn’t try to contest her decision. He said he loved her, and that he always would as a friend and promised to keep in touch. Instead of sad he looked relieved. A final dagger in her heart to pack up for college. At least she wouldn’t go alone. A football scholarship in the same institute had been offered to Watari, who unfortunately took it. There weren’t many people on earth she despised like she did him, but at least she’d have a familiar face.
Fate is tricky, and unexpected and who started off as a familiar face she’d chat with on the way to classes, became a friendly shoulder she could lean into whenever life got too hard to go through alone, to the half of her she never knew was missing. The first 4 years after Kaori died Tsubaki had been by Kousei’s side everyday. The last 4, she only saw him when she went back home for the holidays, excluding the weekly video calls. Somehow those last 4 years helped her understand him better than she ever had.
Watari loved her. For the past two years, he had been the type of boyfriend everyone she ever knew daydreams about. Even if they had only been dating for a relatively short period of time, he had been hinting a plan to propose on Christmas, and she already knew from the bottom of her heart the answer was going to be yes. She’d say yes and marry the love of her life, the person that looked at her the way she always wanted to be looked at. Even then, a tiny part of her, the part she finally understood in Kousei, wondered, if he were to stop the wedding and profess some undying love for her, if she’d still marry Watari.
13th December. Watari had called Kousei asking for his blessing to propose to Tsubaki. In reality he was trying to understand if Kousei still had feelings for Tsubaki. Kousei gave him the approval he didn’t need in the first place and assured him he couldn’t be happier for them. Watari still had doubts, Kousei could tell. Maybe because he hadn’t shown any interest in dating since Tsubaki. He couldn’t explain he was seeing someone once a month, even if only in his dreams. In full honesty he hoped she’d say yes. He didn’t know two people who deserved each other more and although he never expected it, they made the best couple he had ever met. He checked the clock again. He always became restless on full moon days.
When you can only see the person you love 12 times a year, when one of those times is near time moves even slower. Doing this for the past 5 years he had learned a lot from trial and error. Falling asleep before the moon starts to rise will be just a normal sleep. It only works once. If you fall asleep and wake up, even if you try go back immediately it will be a normal sleep. Sleeping pills will help you sleep the 12 hours without interruptions. Too many pills won’t prolong the phenomenon, but you might end up in a hospital with doctors asking you questions you can’t answer. The place you imagine before falling asleep is the place you are transported to.
Picnic dates under a decorated tree on a field, Meteor showers on rooftops, fireworks on the gardens of a museum, tea time in a safe house or simply sitting on the couch sharing a futon and watching a movie. All he had to do was think about it. That way he could show her the world. Before anything he always asked her what place she wanted to meet next time, and next time, there would meet. He did that question 11 times a year. Never on December.
December was a tricky month for them. Some years he even pondered on skipping it all together. But he knew Kaori. The conversation she insists on having every year would just be postponed to January. He closed his eyes and started to picture the house from a Christmas movie he had seen earlier. Dark oak polished wood that contrasted with fully pearl snow white walls who were decorated with green and red garlands.
He felt himself in the middle of the room absorbing it all. The black couch that used was originally white in the movie, but changed colors in his mind once he remembered something Kaori once said about couches being meant to be in that color. The Christmas tree with a few presents under it. They’d be gone by the time he got back to reality, and the place Kaori remained for the other 29 days of the month didn’t allow her to keep anything other than the outfits she wore. It still felt good to trade them. It gave some normalcy to the situation.
In front of the couch the TV was ready to play “Serendipity”. It wasn’t his favorite Christmas movie per say. But it was Kaori’s. The first year they met again in Requiem she mentioned it around November. When he woke up he watched it 3 times. One more before December’s full moon, to make sure his brain would be able to play it perfectly for her. The first year that she tried to have the conversation he dreads so much. But as the movie played she seemed to have forgotten about it, head resting against his shoulder and a whispered confession of hope, that in the next life, serendipity would help them meet. He started to play it every Christmas in hopes to distract her again. It never did. But after the annual fight, it was nice to have something they could peacefully rest to.
He could feel the heat emanating from the fireplace where two stockings hanged, filled with canelés and gingerbread cookies. And of course in the corner of the room, the piano, an instrument that along with a violin was always present in these places he created. Just in case she wanted to play, even if she never asked to in December. And there she was, sitting by the piano, looking like a painted postcard. A white fur trimmed red dress with two fluffy pompons and a buckled belt. She even had a matching hat to complete the angelic merged Santa look. Eyes that normally shine with fondness, dripping in nostalgia instead. God, he hated December.
“Merry Christmas Kaori.”
“Merry Christmas Kousei.”
He kept trying to think of ways to avoid the awkward silence those first minutes always held. Neither of them were eager to start tip toeing around trivial subjects, pretending to ignore the elephant in the room.
Gracefully she got up, grabbed both candy filled stockings from the fireplace and before sitting on the couch, made sure to give him a look that made clear he was to sit next to her. So he did, grabbing the stocking she was offering to him. They sat in silence watching the movie and eating the sweets until the clock above the fireplace hit twelve.
She faked enthusiasm grabbing her gift from under the tree. Her eyes changed when she read those 4 words he had reluctantly imagined in a note that hanged from the wrap. His stomach dropped as he felt the shift: the conversation had started.
“8 months? It’s been 8 years Kousei.” She said pointing to the note that spelled in cursive calligraphy :
“For our 8 months anniversary. Merry Christmas my love.”
“Why 8 months?”
“You can’t do this every year. You can’t ask the same question every fucking year.”
“Someone needs to make you face reality. You’re 23 years old. It’s been 8 years. Why do I still look 14 Kousei? Answer me and tell me again, and again until you accept it, why 8 months when it’s been 8 years Kousei?”
“BECAUSE WE NEVER HAD A SINGLE YEAR TOGETHER.”
He got up angry, pacing around the room trying to swallow up tears that were trying to leak. She followed him, hand on his shoulder trying to ground him. He let himself be softly guided back to the couch, sitting facing each other, movie fully forgotten. One hand brushed against his cheek tenderly, the other poised on top of his. He tried to ignore how small and young her looked in comparison. He tried to ignore the point she was preparing to make. Looking him in the eyes she spoke with a earthshattering fondness dripping from her voice :
“I never thought I’d see you again. I never thought that the great Kousei Arima would love me back. I preferred to die without knowing. By some miracle we had this. These 75 encounters over the last 5 years were more than just a short time. In glimpses we visited the world together. I’m so glad we’re spending one last Christmas together, but it’s time to let me go.”
“Don’t say it. Don’t put it on me. Don’t be here next time. Move on.”
Because Kaori was a hypocrite. And every December she made the same request. Every December she asked him for something he could never give her. Closure. Closure that she needed to get for herself. When you’re dating a ghost questions about the life after death are posed. Questions that she answered. Many people believe in reincarnation, others in the afterlife. Both would be somewhat right, somewhat wrong.
The afterlife isn’t place, but a state. With no body to cling to, a soul wanders through the universe swimming in space and flying on earth. It can go like that for hundreds and hundreds of years, until the loneliness of singular immensity gets too hard to deal with. Even then they still have options.
Choose to move on for the next life immediately, or wait in an unconscious state that would only feel like a moment, until your soulmate is ready to move on too, giving you better odds to meet in the next life.
If Kaori had moved on Requiem of Grief wouldn’t work. He’d simply fall asleep with a Rubi on his hand and feel stupid in the morning for believing a simple story could hold some truth to it.
But Kaori hadn’t. After everything they had gone through together, doubt still imprisoned her heart making her wonder if they were really each other’s soulmates. She couldn’t bear the thought of being wrong and risking an entire lifetime without the slightest possibility of crossing paths with Kousei.
As much as she hated seeing him throw his life away a month at a time for 12 hours of in fiction, she couldn’t move on herself. And if she couldn’t believe they were destined to meet in the next life, how was he supposed to let her go on this one?
“Please Kousei. You’ve ignored my wish for the past 4 years. You can’t do it again. We can’t do this another year. If you really love me as you say you do, let’s enjoy Christmas one last time. Let me wish you a happy new year that won’t involve me. Let me go.”
Unfair. Unjust. Cruelly hypocrite. Always taking everything but the blame. That was Kaori. The person he was in love with. The person he wanted to be with every waking moment. The person demanding that his dreams be thrown away.
“You’ve always been the most twisted and selfish person I’ve met. You knew me. Since three years old. You knew me and you saw something in me that I still can’t grasp alone and you choose to hide yourself. You had the choice and you didn’t take it. But the choice was never given to me. You left a letter and made peace with what was left behind….”
Swollen red eyes dripped in unison. A mirror of hurt and betrayal that could be seen looking at each other. Sakura petals in spring replaced by illusionary snowflakes on windows that lead to nowhere. His heart clenched painfully thinking on Ovan’s words describing Requiem of Grief as “the most cursed blessing ever bestowed.”
“…You left in peace and I was left with torment thinking in all the years that went wasted before I met you.”
And what does one say to that? She lied to make everything more comfortable. She thought she could become a legend in someone’s memory without making it messy. That she could live her fairytale and leave before “the end” caught up with the story.
But here he was, 8 years later, a man she barely recognized except for the part that loved her, the part responsible for all the change she sorrowed. Here he was dilacerating what was left of her heart with the truth. Before she had a chance to reply the movie did it for her, in the shape of Jonathan’s obituary.
“Life is not merely a series of meaningless accidents or coincidences, but rather, it’s a tapestry of events that culminate in an exquisite, sublime plan….”
Kaori’s favorite part. The script was speeding through her brain before it reached the screen.
“….If we are to live life in harmony with the universe, we must all possess a powerful faith in what the ancients used to call ‘fatum’, what we currently refer to as destiny”
She pulled him for a hug that he immediately reciprocated with the same unabashed grip.
“I’ll move on after today.” She said, never letting go, his sweater turning soggy with her tears. She was lying of course. She loved him too much. As long as he walked the earth, she’d haunt it by his side.
“I’ll throw the Rubi out when I wake up” He replied, head buried in her shoulder. He was lying of course. He loved her too much. The only place he planned to put that Rubi upon waking up was back on his pocket, while he waited for the next occasion to use it.
They clung impossibly closer. This was the real Christmas present they traded every year. An empty promise to let the other one go. An empty promise that would last 29 days until their bluff is called out under the moonlight.
“Happy 8 months Anniversary Kousei”
Requiem of Grief
By Ovan Ratsnus
Once upon a time starting by the end, like all the messiest stories do. The conclusion to the bloodshed that made them meet. A wedding on a boat illuminated by the moonlight. Not their wedding. They traded scars instead of wedding bands a long time ago. Bullet wounds on Polatri's back, a deformity from the knife she stabbed her with on Oksana's chest.
Rings can be lost, scars could never be erased. She could never be erased. 3 gunshots to her back after the aftermath. Polastri really thought they’d finally be free. Oksana told her to jump so she did. She jumped right after, trying to trick death one last time. 2 more bullets from the invisible sniper that hid on the bridge they were passing by made sure she wouldn’t. Polastri tried to reach her. The blood she was loosing at an unforgiving speed pervaded the water resembling wings on Oksana's back. With the Moon glow above her, she resembled a dying angel.
Accepting she couldn’t get to her, Polastri propelled herself up, filling her lungs with oxygen just so she could scream them out. Like screaming would fix something. Like screaming could bring her back, only if for a short time. She kept screaming hoping someone, something would listen.
Something did. She saw her in her dreams that night. Just for a few minutes. They were still underwater. She heard a whisper saying:
“Keep it. Right hand. Full moons.”
When she woke up a rock was in her right hand. A bloodstone. That just so happened to be the birthstone of Oksana. At that time she didn’t know she was dealing with the most cursed blessing ever bestowed.
On every full moon for years she saw her. On the warm house in Alaska she had seen on a snow globe all those years ago. The perfection of fleeting moments slowly ruining reality. Building paradise in dreams was dangerous. She had been left in torturous fortune, with the possibility of going anywhere she could want except reality.
She always thought Oksana would be the death of her. In a way she was. Years and years waiting drove her to insanity. She cursed the Requiem of Grief for the last time and made sure that upon falling asleep, she would never wake up again.
If you obsess with death, death will soon catch up to you. Even now, just by reading about it you’re putting yourself in danger. Can you feel it lurking behind you? Can you feel the grief stealing you away piece by piece?