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Introduction:
You'll notice I don't list myself as editor of this piece.
There's a reason for that.
This story sprung like Athena from the head of Zeus, fully-formed if
somewhat unexpected. After a day of studying, I logged onto a familiar
telnet site, and barely had I said my first 'Aloha!' when Mike told me he
had a plot idea for R2096. I asked him to elaborate, and he sent me the
completed story instead.
All in all, two words were changed, and that only to satisfy R2096's
consistently British spelling. There wasn't any need for modification. The
tale is well-told, touching, and sure to please those of you who've been
asking for less angsty additions to the series.
I'm thrilled to be able to add Loader to the list of R2096 writers
(which he already is, if one counts 'Converging Series'), and feel privileged
to be the one to send this lovely narrative to y'all.
As always, any feedback is greatly appreciated, and all comments will be
forwarded to the author.
Enjoy!
-Chris Willmore
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| | \ \ | | \ \ .| | | |.| | | | \ \ / \ \ /
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|_|. \__\ |_|. .|_|.|_|...\/..|_|.|_|.|_|.|_|. \|_| \
/\ \ /
Created by Christopher Willmore. / \ \ /
<4cw6@qlink.queensu.ca> / / \/
Based on a story by Rumiko Takahashi and /
Developed by C. Michael Schumacher / /
\ /
R2096 pages: http://qlink.queensu.ca/~4cw6/ \/(Logo:Armakuni)
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FAITHFUL DEPARTED
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by Mike Loader <mike@thekeep.org>
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R2096 characters and situations used with permission. Takahashi's aren't.
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I like the cemetery, which I suppose might seem a bit ghoulish a thing
to like. But I do. It's green, and the grass is lush, and most of all a girl
can be alone with her thoughts there. In Nerima, that's hard to manage.
Perhaps all of Japan's as crowded as this, but my corner of it seems more so
than usual.
It's even crowded in the graveyard, but my companions there are all
quiet. I talk to them from time to time... no, I'm not crazy. But you need
to get your thoughts out in the open, you know? And they certainly can keep
a secret.
There's one stone that I visit more than the others; because of the age,
I suppose. 'Tendo Akane', and she was only two years older than me when she
died, if the stone can be believed. Well, silly, of course it can. You don't
find gravestones that lie, do you? I giggle a bit at that. Of course, she's
really quite a bit older than me, but I seem to have her age fixed at 16.
How did she die, I wonder? I see her pining away for her lost love,
leaping from a bridge to be with him in death... that's silly, I know, but
it's the image I get. Probably because it's so romantic. In reality, she
probably was in a car accident or had AIDS or some other horrible illness.
But because she's older than me, yet so close, comparatively, I talk to
her a lot.
She doesn't talk back, but that's one of her good points.
"Do you think Akito likes me?" I ask her.
It's possible, my mind answers. But is he really my type?
"Well, he's so cool. And he's cute."
Well, yes. But, I add, he's not very nice. Remember how he treated
Tawamura? I frown a little. I hadn't really thought about it before.
Taramura's an ugly geek.
Still, it wasn't very nice of him.
"He's mean," I finally tell the grass.
Do I really want someone who's cool because he's cruel? Of course not.
"You know," I tell Akane, "even if he does like me, I don't like him."
I feel satisfied, and dig my toes into the lush green grass. It's so
peaceful here. My thoughts are clearer, away from the bustle and turmoil of
the city.
* * * * *
We're the same age, but I bet she never had the problems I did. I mean,
she only died. I think I'm in love.
So I came here again, with a good book and a thermos. It's getting to be
a personal sort of thing. I know people would think I'm weird if they found
out, but they won't. I've been sneaking up here ever since I was fourteen.
"Hi, Akane," I say, sitting down beside the stone. I read a bit in my
book; it's the same one I read last time. I always take a book, begin
reading it in the cemetery, and then stop reading it until I come back next
time. So the whole book is read under the trees, on the green grass. I don't
know why; maybe I just feel the need to have the same surroundings all the
way through.
After getting through two chapters, I decide it's time to talk. "I don't
know. I think I'm in love with Hiro."
Well, I mentally tell myself, there's very little think about it. I
obviously am.
"He doesn't even know I exist!" I wail, kicking the turf in frustration.
I developed an interest in Karate a year ago, out of the blue, and it's kept
me in good condition; my blow mars the clean earth a bit.
I think about what I've just said. He does know I exist, actually. He
just doesn't talk to me much, and when he does its always awkward.
"He hates me," I tell the stone dejectedly.
But, I tell myself, he doesn't act like it, does he?
"Sure he does. He gets all embarrassed, and he stumbles a bit, and he's
real uncomfortable..."
Just like you.
I gasp. "Oh, Akane! What if he likes me back?"
It certainly seems possible. I think perhaps it might be true. If it's
not, well, that's not the end of the world.
Yes it would be! I think I'd throw myself into the river if he doesn't
like me...
An image of chill cold and burning lungs rushes through my mind with
unnatural clarity, and I shudder. Okay, maybe not that far.
I feel a bit depressed. My brain brings back to mind the wonderful
possibility that he might actually like me, and I let it lift my spirits out
of the clammy depths.
"I think he does like me! Yatta! But don't tell."
I wonder if she went to Furinkan?
I'm weird, I know.
I lean back and bask in the sun, reading another chapter of the book.
It's so green and bright here, and I always enjoy the warmth far more than
when I'm anywhere else.
* * * * *
Well, by my old standard, she's two years younger than me. But she's
been in the earth so long... I see her as older than me, still. But not by
much.
I cry a bit more. That's another nice thing about having a dead person
as your confidant. You don't have to be self- conscious about your
appearance.
The book lies on the grass, unopened. I'm too upset to read.
"We broke up, Akane," I finally say. "We had a fight."
I briefly feel sorry for myself, and sniffle a little.
"He was making eyes at Yuri, and so I yelled at him, and he yelled back,
and we got mad, and I told him that I never wanted to see him again, and he
said that was fine with him..." I'm really crying now. It hadn't hurt this
much when I told him.
Had he really been ogling Yuri? I replay my memory. Yes, he was looking
at her tits from across the room. I can't compete with that, I'm so
flatchested... well, no, I'm not, actually. Weird, why would I think...
Yuri. Yes, he really had been looking at her.
But I looked at Furata last week. Remember, looking at those abs and
drooling?
"Yes," I say aloud, "but that's different."
Only because Hiro hadn't seen me, I admit to myself.
Had I perhaps been a little too harsh?
"I was awfully mean to him."
Yes, I had been.
"And now it's too late."
But wait, it isn't! I could go to him and apologize, tell him I'd been
stupid and jealous, admit that I had been wrong...
"I can't do that!" I wail. It would be so humiliating. I couldn't...
I am suddenly terribly angry, furious, livid with myself. How stupid!
How petty! How can I let a silly thing like this wreck love? How can pride
and jealousy hold that back? How? Stupid! Gone, and I never told him! I
never...
Told him? Huh? Oh, right, told him that I was sorry. I will tomorrow, I
will. It's going to be really embarrassing... who cares! Embarrassment is
nothing.
A wave of relief at my decision hits me with almost physical force. I
manage a smile, and lean back, watching the branches of the trees flicker
against the sun. I have a tournament coming up in two weeks. I know I'll
win. I must be a natural, because I knew how to perform a lot of the katas
without even being told.
"I'm turning into a real tomboy," I chuckle. A bit of melancholy steals
over me, but not much. The peace here is wonderful. Things fall into place,
into perspective. I need the quiet, and the time to let myself think and
bask in the warm sun. Thoughts flow into my head here, almost as if they
weren't mine at all. But of course they are.
* * * * *
I walk quickly past my private spot, Hiro supporting me, little Kasumi
tagging along behind. I don't know if I still think of Akane as older than
me. 37 is a long way from 16.
I still go there, to get away from the din, to find my peace and my
answers. I wish I could go there now, but Hiro would worry if his wife went
off to sit by a grave after just burying her mother.
I'd worry too, except I read somewhere that people often have things
they talk to. Like a dog, or a diary, or a cat, or a little pig... there's
an odd thought.
I glance quickly at the shaded stone, and tell myself to come back on
the weekend, when Hiro is busy. I can unburden myself then. I can sort
through Mother's death, and think about little Kasumi, and the things Hiro
and I did this week.
You need to talk to someone. I know I've had a good life, and I need to
unburden myself. It is strange, but the sunlight seems so much warmer, so
much more significant here... it suddenly feels like such a privilege, a
treat, to lie in it and rest. It makes me sleepy, as well; my mind drifts,
and it almost feels as though I'm someone else. Once or twice, I have found
my memory playing on faces and things I do not know. It has almost
frightened me, but the fear is beaten down and choked by the enjoyment I
suddenly take in simple things. So peaceful. Such warm sun.
* * * * *
I watch as they lower my husband into the earth, watch Togi and Kasumi
cry. I daub at my eyes, but I'm not really that sad. We had 67 years. That's
a long time.
I don't think I'll be around much longer myself. That's okay. Always
I've come here to rest. The last time will be no great change.
After the funeral, I tell the children, who are not children anymore,
that I want to be alone with Hiro. They understand, and leave.
I nod to my husband, and walk over to Akane's stone.
Such a thing! That someone who died before ever I knew her has been so
steadfast!
"He's dead, Akane," I say. "I knew it would happen soon."
How do I feel about it? I ask myself. It is strange that I am so
intropective here, and nowhere else.
It was a mercy, really. He could no longer do the things he liked. And
we had years... we had so many years, and moments, and we grew together. And
we have the children, of course.
"I'll be joining him soon," I tell the stone, and feel a bit sad. But
not much. I hope I'll join him. I hope, yes, I hope. I don't see how I
couldn't. It would be a cheat not to finally be with Ra... with Hiro. How
odd. I am old. My mind fastens upon these things. Look, there is the reason,
I was looking at that stone there.
Saotome Ranma. And he died about the same time as Akane. How curious!
Why have I never noticed this? I know I have seen that inscription before,
and been intrigued, and...
My curiosity drains away. I think of the children, and their children,
and I gingerly lower myself to the lush green grass. Such a thing, to be
old!
I bask in the warm, warm sun with a desperate enjoyment, my mind
retreating as it does more and more when I come here. It is as though I am
not me at all. I never had such a terrible longing to feel the sun warm my
skin, to feel the wind, to dig my toes in the grass. I won't be able to,
soon, and it is so good.
* * * * *
They toss in the earth, and I sit up. I am 24.
I drift out of the hole, leaving the old shell that I was. I am vaguely
sorry that Kasumi and Togi are so sad. And I'm curious. What now?
Ah, ah, Hiro! Hiro! There he is!
He comes to me, 22 and full of youth and vigor, and takes my hand. We
don't need to speak. We never did.
From under a shaded tree, then, I see her. I had arranged that my grave
be beside hers, arranged with a urgency that came from nowhere. She looks as
I knew she would. Somehow, I know her.
Hiro kisses me, and the graveyard begins to fade. Somewhere beyond,
there is warm sun and peace and green grass, and we will be there together,
he and I.
I wish I had not seen her. I wish there were only well-wishes in that
look she gives me. But I know now things I did not, and only a saint would
not have that despairing, envious, hateful, ugly part of that gaze from
where she stands. She is not a saint. She is not me, either, and it is
hurting her to finally be forced to realize this.
I wrap myself into Hiro, and as the world fades I hope my friend will
visit me, finally content. For part of that awful look was glad that I was
happy, and that, after all, is what defines a friend.
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This graveyard hides a million secrets
The trees know more than they can tell
The ghosts of the saints and artists will haunt you
In Heaven and in Hell
Look over your shoulder, hear the schoolbell ring
Another day of made-to-measure history
I don't care if your heroes have wings
Your terrible beauty's been torn
You're a history book I never could write
Poetry in paralysis, too deep to recite
Dress yourself, caress yourself, you've won the fight
We're going to celebrate tonight
We'll even climb the pillar (like we always meant to)
Watch the sun rise over the strand
Close our eyes and we'll pretend
It could somehow be the same again
I'll bury you upright so the sun doesn't blind you
You won't have to gaze at the rain and the stars
Faithful departed, there's no brokenhearted
And no more distress in your world without end.
- Philip Chevron
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END FAITHFUL DEPARTED
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