Work Text:
“I dream. Sometimes I think that’s the only right thing to do.”
Murakami Haruki
--
You were in a blue yukata and I was lost in the crowd. Away from the crowd. You found me wandering about a quiet temple, maybe one you resided in. You were upset. Because I left— No. Because I trespassed? Maybe. It was too hot to swim in the sea of humans. Too much burning neon and not enough burning stars. Please let me enjoy the view a little longer, I tried to put what used to be my smile on my face.
But you didn’t point your sword at me. You no longer carried a sword, but you still stood like a swordsman. Swordsmanship is an attitude? Heh. Attitude alone wouldn’t keep you alive. You knew that best.
You told me off and that was the only time I heard your voice. I turned to the direction you were pointing at and when I looked back, you were gone, replaced by leaky ceiling and flickering lamp. I closed my eye again but only the dark remained.
--
I was losing faith and you never thought of faith. I was on the run and you held me at gunpoint. Funny seeing you with some fancy, oversized gun directing your every move. Would you shoot if it told you to and not shoot if it told you not to?
I found myself trusting you more than that piece of machinery. I found myself wanting to be rid of you and be rid by you. Hey, I’m tired. Aren’t you?
You answered by incapacitating me and keeping me on the ground. I looked way up and wondered if that moon was mechanical too. If this autumn chill was man-made too.
I got up to look at you, but there was only the moon outside my window. The moon that seemed real while you were not.
--
You were bleeding to death and I was there to stop it. Hey, what happened to your regenerative abilities? You’ve never relied on anybody before, why rely on me now?
It’s snowing like mad outside and my clinic was closed. But that was a lie, wasn’t it? Just like that second-in-command of yours who betrayed the family? Like that feeling of invincibility when it’s just the drugs deceiving your pain receptors. Like the existence of us.
I left your side to look for more bags of blood and came back to a dark and empty room. My dark and empty room. I was awake again, but were you?
--
I was a travelling merchant and you were a kagema. I was collecting stories, real and not, and you were an existence in-between. We met at the edge of a nameless city on one spring night. You were standing underneath a sakura tree, a heartbeat away, looking as if you’d disappear the moment I breathe.
Was it you buried under that sakura tree? Was it you whose beauty still haunted where you no longer belonged?
With the wind your hair aflutter. I asked myself, were you dreaming that you were the sakura tree, or was the tree dreaming that it was you?
One deep breath and I made you disappear. I got out of bed and searched my messy desk for a quill and a fresh piece of paper. Spring was ending and I felt daring. It had been 341 days and a few hours and I guess I could bother you with one more letter.
--
“Hey.”
“You suck at giving directions.”
“It was meant to be a code. I wasn’t even meant to be found. I should’ve figured that you’re not bright enough to decipher it at once— ow!”
“Hmph.”
“How could you still have that kind of strength at this age?”
“Unlike you, I train.”
“Haha. Right. You never change.”
“Unlike you.”
“...right.”
“Now what?”
“First, happy belated birthday. Yuu.”
“That’s two fucking months ago.”
“Then, happy birthday me?”
This time, you didn’t disappear.