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You think the rain is fair. A heaven-sent gift that is unwelcome in this occasion, but it depicts the loss really well, like the sky is mourning together with you. You don't carry your umbrella too today, uncaring if you end up like a wet cat.
The tombstone your eyes are looking are clean, kept, like someone keeps looking out and taking the grass and weeds out of its surrounding. You put out one can of energy drink, the one that your husband liked the most—the one that he always asks of you whenever you need to go grab some snacks or something. It’s blueberry flavoured and you still remember how Narumi said that it reminds him of you.
“Shinonome and Shinomiya got married yesterday. A pretty couple in wedding dress. She mentioned you in her speech and almost all of us are drowned in tears, but I surprisingly didn’t. I think my tear ducts are diminishing from the time I’ve cried on your death.”
You stare, the rain pelting every part of your body and you let it so. It hides your tears if you happen to cry—you don’t though, it’s been so long. A year or so. Or more. Time can be a very sensitive matter to you who lost the ability to recognise it. You open the can of energy drink, taking a sip of it before splashing it over your grave marker. It’s a taste acquired, not liked the first time around. Artificial blueberry is one thing you dislike—you prefer peach or strawberry—but this one is to commemorate him.
You crush the can afterwards, putting the trash in the pocket of your clothes so you can throw it somewhere properly. You didn’t bring food, for this visitation is a bit of an informal and impulsive thing. You just … miss him. Miss talking to him. You didn’t even pay enough attention to the weather, Hoshina, only know that come rain and sun, you’ll stand and talk to the stone that is once the husband you adore.
“I wish you could see your own disciple grow up.” You tell to the stone, wondering if you’re listening in. “She’s very confident now. Always the first one to arrive on the scene. Make sure that her subordinates are well taken care of. Just like you always say to her, Commander—it’s been quite long since I call you that. I hope you’re not gloating out there being called Commander again.”
You’ve seen this scene before—not yours in particular, but in movies and books that describes the whole environment, different in culture but synonymous with everything that follows. An after-death scene transcends the boundary of culture as the means justify the ends.
In short, everything will merge into grief.
“Leno and Iharu—they became Captain and Vice-Captain of the 4th, the old man retiring. That’s how long you’ve been gone. Years. Even I’ve changed, Narumi-san—I’m no longer the same person when you left.”
Thus you sigh, despite the wetness in your hair, the cold droplets of rain drenching your formal uniform. “I’m the Commander now, since Hasegawa decided to retire. Kafka managed to prove everyone that he deserves to stand side-by-side with Captain Ashiro.”
A beat, a few raindrops. “It wasn’t the same though. Without you. Everyone keeps thinking that I’m fragile. Just because I’m married to you, I’m not going to break just yet. I’ve lost a lot of my comrades too in our battle with No. 9. so I thought it’d be easier.”
You say all of those with a small humour, a light chuckle that gradually slows into the silence of rain. There is a thunder in the distant, a loud noise. The rain will come harder, is the sign that you should not miss. It is crying together with you, letting you be hidden behind the droplets. Is it water falling down on the ground or your tears, you don’t know. Maybe both.
“Looking back, maybe I was stupid. To think that I’m ready. I wasn’t and things have been hard. Going to work and see your name or something related to you makes my heart stops now and then. Like a trauma that won’t heal. I’ve had enough of days where I refuse to accept but now—” Your head hangs low, eyes obscured and watching the wet ground. “—I don’t think I have the energy to pretend you’re alive. I just end up … accepting it.”
Of course you cannot, not when every changes is apparent and almost surreal. The name of the person whose grave you are staring getting less and less commonly called. Last meeting, you note nothing of your name being mentioned, so did the meeting before it. It was as if everyone had moved on from his death so quickly, but you know better that it’s not the case.
As much as you want to, you are a soldier first and a lover second. Your duty to maintain the nation Narumi staked his life for is there, unspoken yet non-verbally oath-bound. It’s your job and countless others to protect, to continue the fire so that the ember doesn’t go into a snuff.
“I still think fate is cruel.” You add, deprecatingly. “Taking you just like that.”
Your phone goes off, your communicator online. The voice you hear is not of panicked but distressed all the same. A kaiju sighting in the area near you. Mission control briefing you as you stare listlessly on the tombstone in front of you.
While at that, you pay your respect still to your dead husband, hands joined in prayer, eyes closed, and loudly in your heart you wish for a proper closure that will never happen.
“That’s enough story for now. I hope it was quite entertaining for you.” You whisper, a light kiss on the wedding band on your right hand as you say your good-bye. “We’ll meet again. I’ll make sure to give you an update on everything so you can rest easily—until then, keep watching us from above.”
The chatter in your communicator feels alive, more urgent—thus, you walk away, stop in your track once, only to look back once to Narumi’s grave and smile.
“I’m off, Commander Narumi.”