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You could have broken him. Could have pushed too far, hurt too much. One wrong move, one misplaced laugh, and you could have left him bitter and confused in a city not worth protecting. He wouldn’t have rejected, wouldn’t have changed.
You could have won. You could have torn him apart along with such a beloved city. Carved your mark in a history where Shibuya never was, as if to show the world I’m right. I’m right. I told you so.
It never happened. You stare at your bloodless hands and know that this is right but you can’t swallow the thought even though this is the present and it never happened.
This is right.
He will never forgive you, and you know it.
He misses you, though. He tells you stories, waits near the station every other day. Whispers hachiko though he never knows if you’re listening.
And then one day he shows up. Stares at the vacant room and states, flatly, I’m leaving.
You were the last to know, but that’s only because you never bothered.
(You couldn’t.)
(In some other dimension, in some other history, it could have happened.
The city could have burned, and he along with it.
It could have happened.)
One wrong move, one misplaced laugh, and he pulls his arm away. Says since when did I ever need your permission?
You bristle. Don’t act so self-important, dear. I’m doing this for Shibuya’s benefit.
He looks away, thinks about crossing his arms. He knows very little of you, but he knows enough to say it. Sounds like an excuse to me.
He will leave Shibuya. Leave the place he calls home, leave you, and you won't be able to do anything about it. You can't go after him. You chained yourself to this city he loves, the city you love. Buried yourself deep with its music ingrained in your very soul.
You are tied down to this city of endless creativity. He is but a mere boy.
Sanae shakes his head at you, says you’re just not used to not getting what you want.
It doesn’t hurt, you tell him. But nobody believes you, because you never wanted this.
And so he disappears, but not on your terms. Not with fallen debris and a ruined city. Not with a rewritten history.
He leaves with a somber expression. No regret, no anger. But you know from his expression that he has moved on. The world won't wait for him.
Time marches on.
You don’t know when he will return – but you know it won’t be because of you.