[Fanfic] Time Capsule Fairytale -Part 2-
Title: Time Capsule Fairytale
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Yukimura x Yanagi
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Semi-AU. This is the last fairytale on this little planet... That's why, we have to seal it in a time capsule.
概要: 讓我們把這小小星球上最後的童話保存在時光囊里。。。 （提供給鎖心桑的幸柳文）
[BGM: Monkey Majik - "Aishiteru" (piano ver.)]
[BGM: Rise Against - "Swing Life Away"]
"Lost love is still love… It takes a different form, that's all. You can't see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it. Life has to end. Love doesn't."
-From Mitch Albom's The Five People You Meet in Heaven
Part II
If a blurry boundary existed between the past and the present, then maybe a matching margin merged reality and fantasy.
They sat, face to face, drinking Renji's brewed apple chamomile tea. Chamomile. An herb with calming and relaxing effects. Hopefully, if the herb truly had the benefits health journals claimed it to have, it would keep unnecessary tension from creeping into their conversation. They would be able to hold a normal conversation like they did a few years back.
He watched the newcomer sip his honey-scented tea carefully. A bit too carefully, actually. Seiichi counted it to be the fifth sip the other had taken in five minutes' span. He wasn't a human calculator like Renji; he simply observed, his subject's deliberate slowness coincidentally making his task of observation simpler.
The other took a sip of his tea whenever the minute hand ghosted over the number 12 on the clock hanging up on the wall behind his seat. He recognized the other's repetitive movements as his pathetic attempt to keep his mouth occupied. So he could have an excuse for remaining silent. For being unable to talk.
Five minutes later, the other added a new activity to his a-sip-a-minute routine. Whenever he stopped sipping his tea, he started studying the Renji presently rearranging flowers around the little shop.
Seiichi imitated the other's gestures, replacing the other's robotic rigidity with his own smooth grace. He sipped his own tea. Like the other, he used it as an excuse, as a cover-up while he studied the stranger before him.
Sanada Genichirou wore a fresh crew cut hairstyle. The sharp angles along his jaw and the distinct lines in his face combined with the haircut made him appear like a soldier. The other still looked a lot older than his age. And Seiichi swore he spotted a few gray strands in his jet black hair.
When their silence game finally bored him, he put his cup down to initiate conversation.
"So, what have you been up to in the last five years?"
Genichirou slowly pulled his gaze from the figure in the distance. A few invisible sticky strings still attached, refusing to be severed. He brought his focus forward to him.
"I teach history at a university."
The succinct statement revealed much of the other's unchanged character to Seiichi.
Genichirou always excluded all extraneous elaborative elements in all that he did. He defined everything clearly, concisely. The definitions he assigned to people and things assumed to be direct. Clean-cut.
Teammates were teammates. Classmates, classmates. Friends, friends. Black was black, and white, white. Wrong never passed as right.
Then, of course, exceptions applied to any basis. Renji existed as the exception to his definitive principles, as the gray to his world of black and white. To Sanada Genichirou, Yanagi Renji wasn't just a teammate. Or just a classmate. Or just a friend. He fit him into all those categories but found a lacking in his companion's defined roles. Though, Renji's gender prevented him from further defining him, defining the relationship between them, because doing so would only oppose the traditions he was raised to follow.
He continued to propel their conversation forward. "So then, what brings you here? Why now after so long?"
"It's spring recess at the university. I visited you old home, and you parents directed me here."
"That's nice." His lips lifted to a lazy, half-hearted smile at one corner. It collapsed to a grim line a few seconds later. "But you still haven't answered my question. What took you so long to come and visit? And think before you avoid answering my question directly again. I'm not taking any work-related excuses."
"..." Genichirou remained speechless, as if he concentrated on digging deep for a respectable reason.
He grew tired of waiting after a while, waiting for the response he didn't know would come or not. Seiichi began again.
"Should I answer for you then? You finally got the guts to face the past. You finally decided to stop running away. You could finally look at someone who's going to remind you of him."
Seiichi let out a sigh as if releasing his urge to drown the other in his disappointment. When they departed, the other never promised to come visit him. But a promise shouldn't have been necessary; it should have been implied.
He drank his tea swallowing anger's heat before continuing.
"You know, it's funny, Genichirou... He was the one who brought us together, and he became the one to separate us. And now, after his revival, we're sitting here, face to face, again..."
Genichirou made no comment. He persisted with his robotic movements, sipping the tea Renji made every once in a while. The tea that tasted like the ones steeped in his memory.
"You must have felt his return. That's why you're here." Seiichi put down his tea cup. "After all, you become more assertive when it comes to anything related to him."
"Don't be ridiculous." Genichirou shot back almost immediately. "That's not him. What you have created is not Renji. Renji is already dead."
He said "what" instead of "who." Genichirou's word choice didn't upset him. The other was correct, literally.
Seiichi shrugged, smirking. "Your words are still as merciless as before, ne."
They aborted their conversation there. They remained silent until they finished their tea. They remained silent when Genichirou rose to leave. Then, Genichirou's polite yet aloof goodbye interrupted the silence.
As he watched Genichirou's retreating figure, his lips lifted lamely to a mocking smile. Though, he didn't know who he directed it to. Both he and Genichirou chose to escape, to deny the truth of their companion's death in their own ways. Both their ways rather pathetic.
"Why does the truth matter so much to people?" He murmured to himself. Empty eyes stared blankly at the tea cup's bare bottom, as if seeking an answer in the white porcelain void.
Renji stepped over to clear the cups off the tabletop. Seiichi tucked at him gently from his seat. Encircling his arms around the other's waist, his forehead leaned resting against his abdomen.
"...Seiichi?"
"Give me a minute, Renji."
'Why should the truth matter so much when delusions already appeared so real and beautiful?'
Genichirou's words cut and cracked at the delusions he surrounded himself in.
But that's all.
The other's words could only crack his delusions. They didn't shatter them.
He constructed a thick delusion that became a dormant explosive implanted in his mind. What existed as reality and what prevailed as fantasy? Sorting through so that things fell neatly into each category would only result in the destruction of his mind, his life.
…
One person ran away. Another stood in place. They were both escapists in their own way.
Seiichi didn't attend Renji's wake. Nor did he attend his funeral.
When Genichirou visited him after the funeral, he still worked away at his garden.
From behind, he heard the careful whispers of his parents telling his friend to handle him with care. Handle him with care? Was he some kind of paper doll?
The black of his friend's attire told him the other had just returned from the ceremony. The way he stood like a shadow behind him as he worked made him feel as if he was the one conducting the burial. That irritated him. He wasn't conducting a burial. He was creating a birth.
"I came here to say goodbye." The other started.
He kept working without a look over his shoulder. "Oh, really? Where're you headed?"
"Nishio."
The other only revealed the city name. He didn't give him his new address. He didn't want him to visit him, didn't want to see him again and be reminded of the past. "You're not staying? You know, something might just happen."
"Seiichi-…" The other started in a critical tone, then stopped abruptly. His parents' reminder probably wrung his neck, forcing him to swallow his admonishment.
He knew what he wanted to say, anyway.
Wake up. Stop dreaming. He's not here anymore. He's dead. Move on with your life.
"…Take care of yourself." After a few moments of silence consisting of the other picking through all the things he wanted to tell him, he managed to squeeze out a scrawny statement.
"…But you'll come back to visit, won't you?"
"…" The other didn't answer. Seiichi knew the other never made any promises he doubt he could keep. If Renji lack the skill in saying goodbyes, then the other's lack of skill lied in lying. The worst liars were those who never attempted at lying.
The other left.
Only after the other's departure did he realized he had been clutching a lump of dirt in his gloved hand. He held on tightly, as if he physically held their friendship, held onto intangible hope within his grasp.
…
They went sightseeing as they've done in the past two years, adhering to their spring routine.
Genichirou didn't visit again after that certain day. Because he didn't leave anything behind after his departure, it appeared as if he never stopped by.
Yet, Seiichi believed, as long as the other knew of Renji's existence here, he would return. Regardless of the amount of time the other would spend denying his desire to revisit, declining his desire to grasp the beautiful delusion before him.
…
At a certain part of a suburban residential area, where a greenhouse stood out oddly against its conformed surrounding, the owner of a little cozy flower shop arranged a small bouquet of flowers. A bouquet of Indian pink flowers (3), to be exact.
The bluenet packed the blossoms together tenderly, like a mother wrapping her child in a bundle. A serene smile spread his lips, though his usual bright sapphire eyes hazed, as if distant thoughts transported his soul elsewhere.
Completing his bouquet arrangement, he cradled the bundle close to him and exited the greenhouse.
His feet carried him to a nearby tree. He stopped in front of the large plant and waited for the moment he dedicated to silence to pass.
'Hello and goodbye.'
…
He visited him again before his scheduled surgery, after the day he notified them of the doctor's decision.
When he entered his room this time, the other slept curled up and tucked snuggly under the covers.
Renji spent a majority of his time in a coma-like sleep state. The effects of chemotherapy, no doubt. It grated his gastric lining. It removed his hair. It clouded his consciousness.
He sat down on Renji's bed. The other stirred, awakening.
In truth, he could have picked another spot to sit as not to disturb the other's slumber. Yet, selfishness spoiled all his thoughtful considerations. He wanted to interrupt the other's sleep. He wanted the other to acknowledge his presence. He wanted the other to converse with him.
"Good morning."
The other sat up slowly. "Morning…already?"
"I wasn't being literal."
Renji paused to glance over to the curtain-drawn window before asking. "…What time is it really?"
Seiichi peered at his wrist watch. "Five fifty-eight. Evening."
Renji nodded, comprehending his answer. Though, it really made no difference to him as a patient what time of the day it was.
Their conversation suffered a sudden death then. That seemed to happen a lot now. Fortunately, neither of them minded it. Their countless conversations in the past made up, balanced out the silence now.
He used the opportunity to examine him, to take note of his lost sharpness and how he sat there spacing out. The other appeared like the room he occupied. Empty. Bare.
The usual Renji wouldn't have taken his greeting literally. He would have analyzed the staff activity in the hallway to hypothesize the time. But chemotherapy confiscated his youthful mind and made him much like a senile elder.
They revived their conversation, exchanging a few more words, with Seiichi doing most of the talking. He told him of the mundane little things that occurred in school, at home. Sooner or later, he carried a monologue. Until finally, foreign weight upon his shoulder stopped him altogether.
Renji drifted off to sleep again.
He didn't help him lie back down in bed. Instead, he stayed unmoving, raising a hand to stroke at the other's back to coax him into a deeper slumber.
Seiichi didn't know how long he remained in the same still position, letting the other use his shoulder as a pillow. And he didn't bother lifting his arm to check his wrist watch again.
Time didn't matter to him.
At that moment, his idle mind conjured up a word.
Forever.
How clichéd it sounded. How impossible it was to achieve it in one's life. Yet, how strongly he felt it then-the forever that preserved them in this little time-forgotten room.
…
Everyone had moments where he loses track of time. One day you wake up and you just can't tell Tuesday from Thursday. When such a thing happens, you could only feel lucky that you made it a habit to keep a calendar hanging on your wall.
Seiichi made it a habit to end each day officially by marking the specific box on the calendar with a red X. The red X claimed his existence for another day on earth.
The trail of red X's finally led to today. June 4th.
That certain person's birthday landed on this day. The certain deceased person.
Seiichi knew he should visit him at his grave like his family members and friends. But he didn't. He never did.
Because visiting his grave on an occasion like this meant introducing himself to unnecessary gloom, unnecessary mourning. He didn't want to face the other's parents, the other's sister, the other's friends, to share their sorrow, their sadness. He shunned them along with the past like shunning something foreign and uninteresting to him.
Instead, he found a make-do grave at the Japanese maple tree near the greenhouse and deposited the bouquet at the base of its trunk. No one knew of this make-do grave. Not even his companion who currently worked alone at their flower shop. He held onto it as his own little secret. And he prided himself for it. For being able to hold onto something related to that person.
Seiichi knelt down before the bouquet to stare through the inanimate object to that person's form he created in his mind.
"It didn't matter whether you were alive or dead. You never belonged to me. If who you belonged to depended on who gave you your life, then you belonged to your parents. If who you belonged to depended on who you returned to after life, then you belonged to Death."
His tone lowered to a whisper, heavy with resignation.
"As much as I want you for myself..."
He stopped himself there. Those words he must have repeated a thousand times already. He intended to come and distribute flowers. He fulfilled that intention. Now, he should leave.
When he stood up, he felt the past loosen its grip on his being. It happened whenever he conducted this liberating ritual.
Maybe life made him insecure, unstable. That he had to compromise and lower his standards. Before, he wanted someone to walk beside him, to share his passion, compliment his ideals. But now, all he wanted was someone who would willingly walk beside him on life's path.
Amusingly, people become better and better at compromises as they age, after they realize hard work alone wouldn't be able to bring them closer to achieving certain wishes.
…
Seiichi returned to the flower shop.
From his place on the street at a distance, he spotted a familiar figure inside. The said figure sat at the table conversing with his companion.
A few people enter the flower shop. Renji stood from his seat to help the newly arrived clients.
When he watched the other observe Renji quietly as if comparing him to the Renji who they both knew in the past, he smiled to himself, secretly amused. Seiichi wanted to ask him of the conclusions he reached, or didn't reach, after his observations.
The other had called this Renji a lie. The same lie the other currently confined himself in.
Be it the Yanagi Renji or this replicated creation who talks and acts exactly like the deceased, it didn't matter. The Renji then and the Renji now both became the gray area in Genichirou's black and white world.
Genichirou turned to the door the exact moment he entered as the other clients exited. The other spared him an initial glance of blank disinterest, dismissing him for another client. Though, his expression transformed immediately -his eyes widened to pure surprise.
"You came again." He commented.
"…Aa. I don't have any classes to teach over the summer." The other answered, recomposing himself.
"So, you're getting a break." He walked over to sit down before him at the table.
Renji called out to him from behind the counter. "Seiichi, do you want some tea?"
Seiichi nodded. "Yes, please."
When he turned back to him, he asked. "So, what are your plans?"
"Not much." A dull, succinct answer yet again.
"Well, you were never the vacationing type. Renji and I always had to drag you to places." He shrugged, accustomed to his aloofness.
"..."
Silence slaughtered their conversation. He lost count of how many times such had happened ever since their reunion. Was it caused by the other's deep contemplation or his discomfort at the mention of the past? He didn't know.
Until, Renji interrupted. "Your tea, Seiichi."
A soft thud of tea cup and platter on the table's glass surface succeeded. Abandoning his bit of disappointment, he picked up his tea cup to taste his tea.
Lukewarm soba tea. Perfect for the summer.
"Do you want a refill, Genichirou?" Renji offered, readying his teapot.
Seiichi paused mid-sip when he noticed the way Renji addressed the other. He raised his eyes from his reflection upon the surface of the amber liquid to look at the man sitting across from him.
"Please." Genichirou focus never left his companion's face as he refilled his cup. The way the other seemed much at ease with Renji made him wonder of the kind of conversation they carried during his absence.
As much as he wanted to, he held back the urge to comment on the man's change. Instead, he suggested. "Renji, why don't you sit with us so we can all have tea together?"
"Aa." Renji retrieved a teacup set, poured his own tea and sat down.
Seiichi began once more. "Since you don't have any plans for the summer, would you like to come with us on a vacation together?"
He watched the other stare hard into his tea as if seriously considering.
After a while, he finally said. "I must decline your offer. I think it is time I visit my parents."
While being succinct revealed one's intentions simply and directly, it also left room for possibilities.
Genichirou's parents, like his parents, still resided back at Kanagawa. Of course, the other couldn't be spending the entire summer just to visit his parents. He would also be spending time to review the place crowded with memories.
After they took some time enjoying each other's company, Genichirou finally stood to leave.
"Come visit us again when you have time." He offered-his smile casual, his words sincere.
"Aa."
"And if you're worried about the long distance, remember, you can stay at our place anytime. As long as you want." He emphasized the last of his offer.
"...Aa."
He watched the other's retreating figure, knowing he just needed to sort a few more things out. But he knew he would be back soon, after he does some over-thinking.
…
During their summer vacation, his mind became a marker tracing memory's map. The places they traveled to now had all been places he once visited in the past.
What boundary, what line, existed to separate the past from the future? It didn't exist.
Ten years ago. Ten years later. People barely changed. Things minimally transformed. Places hardly shifted. The places in his memory he once came to and revisited now like the Renji revived; all stood still at a single point in time.
How ironic it was that places resisted change the same way people did.
The prestigious Matsumoto Castle, preservation of the ancient-samurai armor, customs, history.
The magnificent Lake Ashi at Hakone, a perfect seeing glass of Mount Fuji's grace.
Kyoto, Japan's old capital, containing its well preserved culture and tradition. Its temples and oriental gardens a masterpiece of man's manipulation of his natural environment.
As he and his companion traveled to these setting, what once was the excitement of youth years ago, now settled to thick nostalgia. He must be getting old to feel such a sophisticated emotion.
Renji had taken a liking of Kyoto's aged atmosphere. They decided to settle in the city for a longer time than they had in other places.
They spent another day at a nearby temple. It had been especially crowded there due to a special matcha demonstration by a reputable tea master. After the event, they toured the oriental garden, complete with wooden ryoutei (4), scattered stone lanterns, small gurgling bodies of water swimming with slender scarlet koi, and little cascading waterfalls.
It wasn't until well past the hour of dinner that they finally returned to their onsen (5) ryokan (6).
The baths were empty of other guests. They soaked themselves in hot, steaming water, letting their fatigue drain out and vaporize.
Rejuvenated, Seiichi peered at Renji through the misty water vapors. His companion appeared much like a dissipating mirage. He reached out to embrace him to make sure he's no illusion. Then, taking advantage of the vacant onsen, he advanced on the other in the heat of the moment, sealing his lips with his. His lips wiped away the last trace of night's cool breeze from his.
The two of them sat at the veranda of their room relaxing following the bath.
The dim light from the lit stone lanterns in the garden spread to the leaves on the trees and grass on the ground illuminating them.
"I sense autumn's imminent arrival." Renji concluded after examining the night view.
"That's just too bad." Seiichi lowered himself down to rest his head upon his companion's lap. "I really wanted us to go to Hokkaido too. It's quite stunning there during autumn and winter…"
"Take pictures when you go. Then, I would know what it looks like."
"It's not the same." A single soundless scene crossed his mind for a brief moment: A white winter setting. Two joined hands. Wind-ruffled auburn and cerulean hair. Words misted in the chilly air. Him grinning. His companion smiling. Though, he had difficulty recalling the other's words to him in that memory. "It's just not the same if you're not there."
When he blinked, the movie-clip-like scene was swept away too. He then concentrated on the tips of the leaves dipped in fleeting summer's red and orange. He let his imagination set flames of autumn on the trees.
And for the first time, he saw his future instead of his bothersome past. The maple tree in the garden before him becoming his willow tree engulfed in flames. And the life he conceived, this Renji, swallowed in the fire's bright red petals.
He allowed the scene to play before his eyes. His content sprouted, the mad and forbidden satisfaction, stemmed not from sadism but acceptance.
Renji was the beautiful fairytale he was going to continue believing in regardless of how many people try to rip him from his dream. He would dream on and carry this beautiful fairytale to his grave.
…
Renji's tree already began shedding its leaves when the two of them returned from their lengthy summer retreat.
He spent the next few days sorting through the photos he took on their vacation to decide which ones he should send to the photography contest. Maybe he was just naturally talented, or maybe, as luck had it, he just naturally excelled at everything he invested effort in, regardless it being tennis or photography. Photography developed into a hobby he honed especially during his college years. His works often entered contests and received recognitions.
Many of the prized photos in his collection that he ended up using as a part of Renji's creation contained his most treasured memories of the three of them during their school days. The collection that would have been Renji's graduation present.
He wondered ceaselessly, however. If photos served as the manifestations of one's memory, then why did the photos he buried fail to produce memories for the revived Renji? Why did they not bestow upon him the memories he was supposed to have.
Oh, well. That's life. Unexpected, as much as people thought they had full control over it. Or maybe, like Dr. Frankenstein who created a creature of his own, he was also being punished for defying the potency of natural law.
…
They returned to work at their little flower shop.
Until, September blew in with the chill of early autumn and Renji became drowsier day by day. It became normal for him to find his companion dozing off on the table after providing assistance to their clients.
Certainly, it would be best for him to start hiring aid for autumn and winter.
By mid-September, after half the leaves on Renji's tree have fallen, Seiichi persuaded him to return to his tree to hibernate. Renji agreed finally after a few attempts at protest.
The next day, coincidentally, he re-encountered a friend at the flower shop.
When the door chimes sounded indicating the arrival of a new customer, he glanced up from his work to find the familiar face at the door.
"Genichirou." He greeted.
Genichirou nodded at him. "Yukimura."
He lifted a brow at the formality the other was still taking with his name but said nothing. Distance would have to be abridged through time.
The other's sharp gaze wandered through the store, intending to sweep over every corner to find his target.
Mischief-driven, he cracked at the other's seriousness the same way the other had cracked the delusion he created.
"If you're looking for Renji," his face fell during mid-sentence, "he won't be here for a long time."
The other's eyes widened incredulously. "...Do you mean..."
Deciding that the other's serious character had low of tolerance for mischief, he smiled again to dispel the anxiety in the air. "Come on. I'll show you what I mean."
Locking up the little shop and placing a sign that read "Back in a Bit!" behind the glass door, he led the other to his mini pickup truck.
They drove to his house, where he motioned for him to follow him to the garden in the back, to the willow tree standing there with bare skeletal branches.
He patted the trunk. "It's autumn. He's just hibernating."
Genichirou stared wordlessly at the tree as if finally meeting up with a long lost friend. He reached out hesitantly to touch the trunk, to confirm the reality of its existence.
He watched him in amusement. But he didn't say anything, knowing the other needed the quiet moment. The other, who had been escaping reality in his own way all these years.
After a while, the hand he used to stroke the bark returned to his side. He found his voice again.
"Seiichi."
"Yes, Genichirou."
"...Is your offer from before still valid?"
After the long hours studying the Renji of his creation, the other had reached the same conclusion that he had once struggled to reach.
It didn't matter that this Renji was just a creation, a manifestation of the Yanagi Renji from their past. What mattered was the realization that this truly would be the closest they'll come to repossessing the real person.
And when you couldn't have the real thing, you had to learn to compromise. As one ages, compromise became a skill that was easier and easier to perform. He was going to make-do with what meagerness offered him. A single lifetime would pass quickly in others' company.
Seiichi beamed. "Of course. You didn't even have to ask."
Genichirou turned to him then, finally, and offered a small smile, the first smile he saw him show in their meetings after five years.
Seiichi only looked to the sky above hoping spring would soon come around the corner. Spring, when the three of them would be together again. As it should be.
Regardless in the pitiful past or this seemingly over-idealistic, fairytale-like present.
[END BGM: Sun Nan & Han Hong - "Endless Love"]
[END BGM: Gackt - "Secret Garden"]
END NOTES:
(3) - Birthday flower for June 4th. It's meaning in the language of flowers is "sorrow."
(4) - pavilion in a garden (used to keep cool)
(5) - hot spring
(6) - A type of traditional Japanese inn with typical features such as tatami-matted rooms, communal baths, etc. Visitors there usually walk around in their yukatas.
In truth, Yanagi really isn't a main character of this story. Memory is.
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Yukimura x Yanagi
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Semi-AU. This is the last fairytale on this little planet... That's why, we have to seal it in a time capsule.
概要: 讓我們把這小小星球上最後的童話保存在時光囊里。。。 （提供給鎖心桑的幸柳文）
[BGM: Monkey Majik - "Aishiteru" (piano ver.)]
[BGM: Rise Against - "Swing Life Away"]
"Lost love is still love… It takes a different form, that's all. You can't see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it. Life has to end. Love doesn't."
-From Mitch Albom's The Five People You Meet in Heaven
Part II
If a blurry boundary existed between the past and the present, then maybe a matching margin merged reality and fantasy.
They sat, face to face, drinking Renji's brewed apple chamomile tea. Chamomile. An herb with calming and relaxing effects. Hopefully, if the herb truly had the benefits health journals claimed it to have, it would keep unnecessary tension from creeping into their conversation. They would be able to hold a normal conversation like they did a few years back.
He watched the newcomer sip his honey-scented tea carefully. A bit too carefully, actually. Seiichi counted it to be the fifth sip the other had taken in five minutes' span. He wasn't a human calculator like Renji; he simply observed, his subject's deliberate slowness coincidentally making his task of observation simpler.
The other took a sip of his tea whenever the minute hand ghosted over the number 12 on the clock hanging up on the wall behind his seat. He recognized the other's repetitive movements as his pathetic attempt to keep his mouth occupied. So he could have an excuse for remaining silent. For being unable to talk.
Five minutes later, the other added a new activity to his a-sip-a-minute routine. Whenever he stopped sipping his tea, he started studying the Renji presently rearranging flowers around the little shop.
Seiichi imitated the other's gestures, replacing the other's robotic rigidity with his own smooth grace. He sipped his own tea. Like the other, he used it as an excuse, as a cover-up while he studied the stranger before him.
Sanada Genichirou wore a fresh crew cut hairstyle. The sharp angles along his jaw and the distinct lines in his face combined with the haircut made him appear like a soldier. The other still looked a lot older than his age. And Seiichi swore he spotted a few gray strands in his jet black hair.
When their silence game finally bored him, he put his cup down to initiate conversation.
"So, what have you been up to in the last five years?"
Genichirou slowly pulled his gaze from the figure in the distance. A few invisible sticky strings still attached, refusing to be severed. He brought his focus forward to him.
"I teach history at a university."
The succinct statement revealed much of the other's unchanged character to Seiichi.
Genichirou always excluded all extraneous elaborative elements in all that he did. He defined everything clearly, concisely. The definitions he assigned to people and things assumed to be direct. Clean-cut.
Teammates were teammates. Classmates, classmates. Friends, friends. Black was black, and white, white. Wrong never passed as right.
Then, of course, exceptions applied to any basis. Renji existed as the exception to his definitive principles, as the gray to his world of black and white. To Sanada Genichirou, Yanagi Renji wasn't just a teammate. Or just a classmate. Or just a friend. He fit him into all those categories but found a lacking in his companion's defined roles. Though, Renji's gender prevented him from further defining him, defining the relationship between them, because doing so would only oppose the traditions he was raised to follow.
He continued to propel their conversation forward. "So then, what brings you here? Why now after so long?"
"It's spring recess at the university. I visited you old home, and you parents directed me here."
"That's nice." His lips lifted to a lazy, half-hearted smile at one corner. It collapsed to a grim line a few seconds later. "But you still haven't answered my question. What took you so long to come and visit? And think before you avoid answering my question directly again. I'm not taking any work-related excuses."
"..." Genichirou remained speechless, as if he concentrated on digging deep for a respectable reason.
He grew tired of waiting after a while, waiting for the response he didn't know would come or not. Seiichi began again.
"Should I answer for you then? You finally got the guts to face the past. You finally decided to stop running away. You could finally look at someone who's going to remind you of him."
Seiichi let out a sigh as if releasing his urge to drown the other in his disappointment. When they departed, the other never promised to come visit him. But a promise shouldn't have been necessary; it should have been implied.
He drank his tea swallowing anger's heat before continuing.
"You know, it's funny, Genichirou... He was the one who brought us together, and he became the one to separate us. And now, after his revival, we're sitting here, face to face, again..."
Genichirou made no comment. He persisted with his robotic movements, sipping the tea Renji made every once in a while. The tea that tasted like the ones steeped in his memory.
"You must have felt his return. That's why you're here." Seiichi put down his tea cup. "After all, you become more assertive when it comes to anything related to him."
"Don't be ridiculous." Genichirou shot back almost immediately. "That's not him. What you have created is not Renji. Renji is already dead."
He said "what" instead of "who." Genichirou's word choice didn't upset him. The other was correct, literally.
Seiichi shrugged, smirking. "Your words are still as merciless as before, ne."
They aborted their conversation there. They remained silent until they finished their tea. They remained silent when Genichirou rose to leave. Then, Genichirou's polite yet aloof goodbye interrupted the silence.
As he watched Genichirou's retreating figure, his lips lifted lamely to a mocking smile. Though, he didn't know who he directed it to. Both he and Genichirou chose to escape, to deny the truth of their companion's death in their own ways. Both their ways rather pathetic.
"Why does the truth matter so much to people?" He murmured to himself. Empty eyes stared blankly at the tea cup's bare bottom, as if seeking an answer in the white porcelain void.
Renji stepped over to clear the cups off the tabletop. Seiichi tucked at him gently from his seat. Encircling his arms around the other's waist, his forehead leaned resting against his abdomen.
"...Seiichi?"
"Give me a minute, Renji."
'Why should the truth matter so much when delusions already appeared so real and beautiful?'
Genichirou's words cut and cracked at the delusions he surrounded himself in.
But that's all.
The other's words could only crack his delusions. They didn't shatter them.
He constructed a thick delusion that became a dormant explosive implanted in his mind. What existed as reality and what prevailed as fantasy? Sorting through so that things fell neatly into each category would only result in the destruction of his mind, his life.
…
One person ran away. Another stood in place. They were both escapists in their own way.
Seiichi didn't attend Renji's wake. Nor did he attend his funeral.
When Genichirou visited him after the funeral, he still worked away at his garden.
From behind, he heard the careful whispers of his parents telling his friend to handle him with care. Handle him with care? Was he some kind of paper doll?
The black of his friend's attire told him the other had just returned from the ceremony. The way he stood like a shadow behind him as he worked made him feel as if he was the one conducting the burial. That irritated him. He wasn't conducting a burial. He was creating a birth.
"I came here to say goodbye." The other started.
He kept working without a look over his shoulder. "Oh, really? Where're you headed?"
"Nishio."
The other only revealed the city name. He didn't give him his new address. He didn't want him to visit him, didn't want to see him again and be reminded of the past. "You're not staying? You know, something might just happen."
"Seiichi-…" The other started in a critical tone, then stopped abruptly. His parents' reminder probably wrung his neck, forcing him to swallow his admonishment.
He knew what he wanted to say, anyway.
Wake up. Stop dreaming. He's not here anymore. He's dead. Move on with your life.
"…Take care of yourself." After a few moments of silence consisting of the other picking through all the things he wanted to tell him, he managed to squeeze out a scrawny statement.
"…But you'll come back to visit, won't you?"
"…" The other didn't answer. Seiichi knew the other never made any promises he doubt he could keep. If Renji lack the skill in saying goodbyes, then the other's lack of skill lied in lying. The worst liars were those who never attempted at lying.
The other left.
Only after the other's departure did he realized he had been clutching a lump of dirt in his gloved hand. He held on tightly, as if he physically held their friendship, held onto intangible hope within his grasp.
…
They went sightseeing as they've done in the past two years, adhering to their spring routine.
Genichirou didn't visit again after that certain day. Because he didn't leave anything behind after his departure, it appeared as if he never stopped by.
Yet, Seiichi believed, as long as the other knew of Renji's existence here, he would return. Regardless of the amount of time the other would spend denying his desire to revisit, declining his desire to grasp the beautiful delusion before him.
…
At a certain part of a suburban residential area, where a greenhouse stood out oddly against its conformed surrounding, the owner of a little cozy flower shop arranged a small bouquet of flowers. A bouquet of Indian pink flowers (3), to be exact.
The bluenet packed the blossoms together tenderly, like a mother wrapping her child in a bundle. A serene smile spread his lips, though his usual bright sapphire eyes hazed, as if distant thoughts transported his soul elsewhere.
Completing his bouquet arrangement, he cradled the bundle close to him and exited the greenhouse.
His feet carried him to a nearby tree. He stopped in front of the large plant and waited for the moment he dedicated to silence to pass.
'Hello and goodbye.'
…
He visited him again before his scheduled surgery, after the day he notified them of the doctor's decision.
When he entered his room this time, the other slept curled up and tucked snuggly under the covers.
Renji spent a majority of his time in a coma-like sleep state. The effects of chemotherapy, no doubt. It grated his gastric lining. It removed his hair. It clouded his consciousness.
He sat down on Renji's bed. The other stirred, awakening.
In truth, he could have picked another spot to sit as not to disturb the other's slumber. Yet, selfishness spoiled all his thoughtful considerations. He wanted to interrupt the other's sleep. He wanted the other to acknowledge his presence. He wanted the other to converse with him.
"Good morning."
The other sat up slowly. "Morning…already?"
"I wasn't being literal."
Renji paused to glance over to the curtain-drawn window before asking. "…What time is it really?"
Seiichi peered at his wrist watch. "Five fifty-eight. Evening."
Renji nodded, comprehending his answer. Though, it really made no difference to him as a patient what time of the day it was.
Their conversation suffered a sudden death then. That seemed to happen a lot now. Fortunately, neither of them minded it. Their countless conversations in the past made up, balanced out the silence now.
He used the opportunity to examine him, to take note of his lost sharpness and how he sat there spacing out. The other appeared like the room he occupied. Empty. Bare.
The usual Renji wouldn't have taken his greeting literally. He would have analyzed the staff activity in the hallway to hypothesize the time. But chemotherapy confiscated his youthful mind and made him much like a senile elder.
They revived their conversation, exchanging a few more words, with Seiichi doing most of the talking. He told him of the mundane little things that occurred in school, at home. Sooner or later, he carried a monologue. Until finally, foreign weight upon his shoulder stopped him altogether.
Renji drifted off to sleep again.
He didn't help him lie back down in bed. Instead, he stayed unmoving, raising a hand to stroke at the other's back to coax him into a deeper slumber.
Seiichi didn't know how long he remained in the same still position, letting the other use his shoulder as a pillow. And he didn't bother lifting his arm to check his wrist watch again.
Time didn't matter to him.
At that moment, his idle mind conjured up a word.
Forever.
How clichéd it sounded. How impossible it was to achieve it in one's life. Yet, how strongly he felt it then-the forever that preserved them in this little time-forgotten room.
…
Everyone had moments where he loses track of time. One day you wake up and you just can't tell Tuesday from Thursday. When such a thing happens, you could only feel lucky that you made it a habit to keep a calendar hanging on your wall.
Seiichi made it a habit to end each day officially by marking the specific box on the calendar with a red X. The red X claimed his existence for another day on earth.
The trail of red X's finally led to today. June 4th.
That certain person's birthday landed on this day. The certain deceased person.
Seiichi knew he should visit him at his grave like his family members and friends. But he didn't. He never did.
Because visiting his grave on an occasion like this meant introducing himself to unnecessary gloom, unnecessary mourning. He didn't want to face the other's parents, the other's sister, the other's friends, to share their sorrow, their sadness. He shunned them along with the past like shunning something foreign and uninteresting to him.
Instead, he found a make-do grave at the Japanese maple tree near the greenhouse and deposited the bouquet at the base of its trunk. No one knew of this make-do grave. Not even his companion who currently worked alone at their flower shop. He held onto it as his own little secret. And he prided himself for it. For being able to hold onto something related to that person.
Seiichi knelt down before the bouquet to stare through the inanimate object to that person's form he created in his mind.
"It didn't matter whether you were alive or dead. You never belonged to me. If who you belonged to depended on who gave you your life, then you belonged to your parents. If who you belonged to depended on who you returned to after life, then you belonged to Death."
His tone lowered to a whisper, heavy with resignation.
"As much as I want you for myself..."
He stopped himself there. Those words he must have repeated a thousand times already. He intended to come and distribute flowers. He fulfilled that intention. Now, he should leave.
When he stood up, he felt the past loosen its grip on his being. It happened whenever he conducted this liberating ritual.
Maybe life made him insecure, unstable. That he had to compromise and lower his standards. Before, he wanted someone to walk beside him, to share his passion, compliment his ideals. But now, all he wanted was someone who would willingly walk beside him on life's path.
Amusingly, people become better and better at compromises as they age, after they realize hard work alone wouldn't be able to bring them closer to achieving certain wishes.
…
Seiichi returned to the flower shop.
From his place on the street at a distance, he spotted a familiar figure inside. The said figure sat at the table conversing with his companion.
A few people enter the flower shop. Renji stood from his seat to help the newly arrived clients.
When he watched the other observe Renji quietly as if comparing him to the Renji who they both knew in the past, he smiled to himself, secretly amused. Seiichi wanted to ask him of the conclusions he reached, or didn't reach, after his observations.
The other had called this Renji a lie. The same lie the other currently confined himself in.
Be it the Yanagi Renji or this replicated creation who talks and acts exactly like the deceased, it didn't matter. The Renji then and the Renji now both became the gray area in Genichirou's black and white world.
Genichirou turned to the door the exact moment he entered as the other clients exited. The other spared him an initial glance of blank disinterest, dismissing him for another client. Though, his expression transformed immediately -his eyes widened to pure surprise.
"You came again." He commented.
"…Aa. I don't have any classes to teach over the summer." The other answered, recomposing himself.
"So, you're getting a break." He walked over to sit down before him at the table.
Renji called out to him from behind the counter. "Seiichi, do you want some tea?"
Seiichi nodded. "Yes, please."
When he turned back to him, he asked. "So, what are your plans?"
"Not much." A dull, succinct answer yet again.
"Well, you were never the vacationing type. Renji and I always had to drag you to places." He shrugged, accustomed to his aloofness.
"..."
Silence slaughtered their conversation. He lost count of how many times such had happened ever since their reunion. Was it caused by the other's deep contemplation or his discomfort at the mention of the past? He didn't know.
Until, Renji interrupted. "Your tea, Seiichi."
A soft thud of tea cup and platter on the table's glass surface succeeded. Abandoning his bit of disappointment, he picked up his tea cup to taste his tea.
Lukewarm soba tea. Perfect for the summer.
"Do you want a refill, Genichirou?" Renji offered, readying his teapot.
Seiichi paused mid-sip when he noticed the way Renji addressed the other. He raised his eyes from his reflection upon the surface of the amber liquid to look at the man sitting across from him.
"Please." Genichirou focus never left his companion's face as he refilled his cup. The way the other seemed much at ease with Renji made him wonder of the kind of conversation they carried during his absence.
As much as he wanted to, he held back the urge to comment on the man's change. Instead, he suggested. "Renji, why don't you sit with us so we can all have tea together?"
"Aa." Renji retrieved a teacup set, poured his own tea and sat down.
Seiichi began once more. "Since you don't have any plans for the summer, would you like to come with us on a vacation together?"
He watched the other stare hard into his tea as if seriously considering.
After a while, he finally said. "I must decline your offer. I think it is time I visit my parents."
While being succinct revealed one's intentions simply and directly, it also left room for possibilities.
Genichirou's parents, like his parents, still resided back at Kanagawa. Of course, the other couldn't be spending the entire summer just to visit his parents. He would also be spending time to review the place crowded with memories.
After they took some time enjoying each other's company, Genichirou finally stood to leave.
"Come visit us again when you have time." He offered-his smile casual, his words sincere.
"Aa."
"And if you're worried about the long distance, remember, you can stay at our place anytime. As long as you want." He emphasized the last of his offer.
"...Aa."
He watched the other's retreating figure, knowing he just needed to sort a few more things out. But he knew he would be back soon, after he does some over-thinking.
…
During their summer vacation, his mind became a marker tracing memory's map. The places they traveled to now had all been places he once visited in the past.
What boundary, what line, existed to separate the past from the future? It didn't exist.
Ten years ago. Ten years later. People barely changed. Things minimally transformed. Places hardly shifted. The places in his memory he once came to and revisited now like the Renji revived; all stood still at a single point in time.
How ironic it was that places resisted change the same way people did.
The prestigious Matsumoto Castle, preservation of the ancient-samurai armor, customs, history.
The magnificent Lake Ashi at Hakone, a perfect seeing glass of Mount Fuji's grace.
Kyoto, Japan's old capital, containing its well preserved culture and tradition. Its temples and oriental gardens a masterpiece of man's manipulation of his natural environment.
As he and his companion traveled to these setting, what once was the excitement of youth years ago, now settled to thick nostalgia. He must be getting old to feel such a sophisticated emotion.
Renji had taken a liking of Kyoto's aged atmosphere. They decided to settle in the city for a longer time than they had in other places.
They spent another day at a nearby temple. It had been especially crowded there due to a special matcha demonstration by a reputable tea master. After the event, they toured the oriental garden, complete with wooden ryoutei (4), scattered stone lanterns, small gurgling bodies of water swimming with slender scarlet koi, and little cascading waterfalls.
It wasn't until well past the hour of dinner that they finally returned to their onsen (5) ryokan (6).
The baths were empty of other guests. They soaked themselves in hot, steaming water, letting their fatigue drain out and vaporize.
Rejuvenated, Seiichi peered at Renji through the misty water vapors. His companion appeared much like a dissipating mirage. He reached out to embrace him to make sure he's no illusion. Then, taking advantage of the vacant onsen, he advanced on the other in the heat of the moment, sealing his lips with his. His lips wiped away the last trace of night's cool breeze from his.
The two of them sat at the veranda of their room relaxing following the bath.
The dim light from the lit stone lanterns in the garden spread to the leaves on the trees and grass on the ground illuminating them.
"I sense autumn's imminent arrival." Renji concluded after examining the night view.
"That's just too bad." Seiichi lowered himself down to rest his head upon his companion's lap. "I really wanted us to go to Hokkaido too. It's quite stunning there during autumn and winter…"
"Take pictures when you go. Then, I would know what it looks like."
"It's not the same." A single soundless scene crossed his mind for a brief moment: A white winter setting. Two joined hands. Wind-ruffled auburn and cerulean hair. Words misted in the chilly air. Him grinning. His companion smiling. Though, he had difficulty recalling the other's words to him in that memory. "It's just not the same if you're not there."
When he blinked, the movie-clip-like scene was swept away too. He then concentrated on the tips of the leaves dipped in fleeting summer's red and orange. He let his imagination set flames of autumn on the trees.
And for the first time, he saw his future instead of his bothersome past. The maple tree in the garden before him becoming his willow tree engulfed in flames. And the life he conceived, this Renji, swallowed in the fire's bright red petals.
He allowed the scene to play before his eyes. His content sprouted, the mad and forbidden satisfaction, stemmed not from sadism but acceptance.
Renji was the beautiful fairytale he was going to continue believing in regardless of how many people try to rip him from his dream. He would dream on and carry this beautiful fairytale to his grave.
…
Renji's tree already began shedding its leaves when the two of them returned from their lengthy summer retreat.
He spent the next few days sorting through the photos he took on their vacation to decide which ones he should send to the photography contest. Maybe he was just naturally talented, or maybe, as luck had it, he just naturally excelled at everything he invested effort in, regardless it being tennis or photography. Photography developed into a hobby he honed especially during his college years. His works often entered contests and received recognitions.
Many of the prized photos in his collection that he ended up using as a part of Renji's creation contained his most treasured memories of the three of them during their school days. The collection that would have been Renji's graduation present.
He wondered ceaselessly, however. If photos served as the manifestations of one's memory, then why did the photos he buried fail to produce memories for the revived Renji? Why did they not bestow upon him the memories he was supposed to have.
Oh, well. That's life. Unexpected, as much as people thought they had full control over it. Or maybe, like Dr. Frankenstein who created a creature of his own, he was also being punished for defying the potency of natural law.
…
They returned to work at their little flower shop.
Until, September blew in with the chill of early autumn and Renji became drowsier day by day. It became normal for him to find his companion dozing off on the table after providing assistance to their clients.
Certainly, it would be best for him to start hiring aid for autumn and winter.
By mid-September, after half the leaves on Renji's tree have fallen, Seiichi persuaded him to return to his tree to hibernate. Renji agreed finally after a few attempts at protest.
The next day, coincidentally, he re-encountered a friend at the flower shop.
When the door chimes sounded indicating the arrival of a new customer, he glanced up from his work to find the familiar face at the door.
"Genichirou." He greeted.
Genichirou nodded at him. "Yukimura."
He lifted a brow at the formality the other was still taking with his name but said nothing. Distance would have to be abridged through time.
The other's sharp gaze wandered through the store, intending to sweep over every corner to find his target.
Mischief-driven, he cracked at the other's seriousness the same way the other had cracked the delusion he created.
"If you're looking for Renji," his face fell during mid-sentence, "he won't be here for a long time."
The other's eyes widened incredulously. "...Do you mean..."
Deciding that the other's serious character had low of tolerance for mischief, he smiled again to dispel the anxiety in the air. "Come on. I'll show you what I mean."
Locking up the little shop and placing a sign that read "Back in a Bit!" behind the glass door, he led the other to his mini pickup truck.
They drove to his house, where he motioned for him to follow him to the garden in the back, to the willow tree standing there with bare skeletal branches.
He patted the trunk. "It's autumn. He's just hibernating."
Genichirou stared wordlessly at the tree as if finally meeting up with a long lost friend. He reached out hesitantly to touch the trunk, to confirm the reality of its existence.
He watched him in amusement. But he didn't say anything, knowing the other needed the quiet moment. The other, who had been escaping reality in his own way all these years.
After a while, the hand he used to stroke the bark returned to his side. He found his voice again.
"Seiichi."
"Yes, Genichirou."
"...Is your offer from before still valid?"
After the long hours studying the Renji of his creation, the other had reached the same conclusion that he had once struggled to reach.
It didn't matter that this Renji was just a creation, a manifestation of the Yanagi Renji from their past. What mattered was the realization that this truly would be the closest they'll come to repossessing the real person.
And when you couldn't have the real thing, you had to learn to compromise. As one ages, compromise became a skill that was easier and easier to perform. He was going to make-do with what meagerness offered him. A single lifetime would pass quickly in others' company.
Seiichi beamed. "Of course. You didn't even have to ask."
Genichirou turned to him then, finally, and offered a small smile, the first smile he saw him show in their meetings after five years.
Seiichi only looked to the sky above hoping spring would soon come around the corner. Spring, when the three of them would be together again. As it should be.
Regardless in the pitiful past or this seemingly over-idealistic, fairytale-like present.
[END BGM: Sun Nan & Han Hong - "Endless Love"]
[END BGM: Gackt - "Secret Garden"]
END NOTES:
(3) - Birthday flower for June 4th. It's meaning in the language of flowers is "sorrow."
(4) - pavilion in a garden (used to keep cool)
(5) - hot spring
(6) - A type of traditional Japanese inn with typical features such as tatami-matted rooms, communal baths, etc. Visitors there usually walk around in their yukatas.
In truth, Yanagi really isn't a main character of this story. Memory is.