Work Text:
Takeru & Hikari
Right from a very young age, Takeru learned there was nothing in life more comforting than walking into his grandmother’s cottage by the countryside.
It was far and away from the stresses and despairs of busy city life. Things were quiet, the air was fresh, and the aroma of home cooked meals were always in abundance in her quaint home. His grandmother was old and old-fashioned, retaining much of her established Japanese culture in a climate of disconnection and forgotten lores. Takeru loved studying her as she moved across the floors of her home, he loved listening to her retell stories and teachings from a half-forgotten life, he loved asking her about the pictures and trinkets on her mantel, he loved picking through the boxes of clothes and items stored in her cobwebbed attic.
But today, today is a very different day. Walking into his grandmother’s cottage brought with it a somber and malignant air. The atmosphere was stifling, taking away the air in Takeru’s lungs as he walked deeper into the tiny abode.
For one, the small kitchen was crammed with people and family members he’s seen and not seen, some were familiar faces he could not recall, others were foreign visitors he’s never met before. But amongst the sea of people was his father sitting at the kitchen table, his dark hair and dark eyes looked even darker with the shadow across his face.
He stood up the moment he saw his son, bounding across the room and placing his hand behind his back.
“Teeks,” he greeted him, Takeru’s knees shook at the use of his old nickname, an old habit he’s attributing to the long absence his father played in his life, at least since his parent’s divorce. If it wasn’t for his grandmother, he might have lost touch with this part of his identity entirely.
“Hi Dad,” he greeted stiffly.
His father nodded in response, and led him down the hall and up the staircase to his grandmother’s room.
“Your grandmother has been asking for you,” his father announced, “We were worried you won’t make it.”
Takeru blushed, “Sorry, I came as soon as I could but there was a delay because of the blizzard…”
His father waved his hand, just as they approached his grandmother’s room, the door slightly ajar to reveal the warm light from within.
Takeru’s knees shook again, muscles growing so weak he had to grasp onto the wall beside him to keep steady. Luckily, his father caught on, holding him tight as he steadied his wavering son.
“Teeks, be strong,” his father whispered, keeping his head low so the voice did not filter into the room.
Takeru nodded instinctively, but his head was devoid of coherent thoughts. He could only think of his frail and old grandmother lying in her bed, with tubes and machines coming in and out of her. He hadn’t been back for almost an entire year now, since he was attending university across the country. But the last time he visited, he received the news from her directly, a quick and nonchalant whisper of the word cancer. And despite his panic, despite his insistence of transferring school to be closer to her, she vehemently refused.
I don’t want you to hold yourself back on account of me, she had said with her sagely smile.
“Be strong for her,” his father whispered again, “Remember, this will most likely be your last moment with her.”
Takeru nodded again, his head still a hodgepodge of emotion. The door opened then, and a jolly nurse with sun-kissed skin exited his grandmother’s room, her smile crinkling her crow’s feet.
“Ah, is this the grandson she’s been asking for?”
“Yes, this is him,” his father responded.
The nurse shook her head and chuckled, “Despite all the visits from her children and grandchildren, you are the one she insists on seeing.”
His father laughed, while Takeru gave a sheepish smile.
“Well, no matter, she’s been waiting for you, young man. Come with me”
His father released him, and like a child following the call of the pied piper, Takeru walked behind her with shaking limbs. Just at the door, she halted and held out her hand, signalling for him to pause.
“Let me inform her first,” the nurse whispered, to which Takeru could only nod.
The nurse entered, and Takeru could hear a flurry of whispers, its sound too quiet and muddled to make out the words. Seconds later, the nurse stepped back outside, beckoning him close while still remaining out in the hall, her body blocking the scenery within.
“She wants to speak to you in private,” the nurse whispered, “Remember, this will be your last moment with her, so..make it count.”
Takeru gulped. His eyes began to sting with unshed tears, but somehow, he managed to hold them back. He eyed the other side of the bedroom door as his heart rate accelerated by the second, the image of his grandmother at the frontier of life and death staining his thoughts. It wasn’t how he wanted to remember her. His grandmother was light and spark and a picture not bound by a frame. He wanted desperately to remember her the way she was, not the sickly prisoner now trapped inside her withering body.
Just then, the nurse flashed a wide smile, it somehow brought courage back to his weak muscles. She pressed her hand against his forearm, it was a gentle, wordless sign that it would be alright.
“They say you’re her favourite,” she whispered to him.
Takeru blushed, “Well…I…I guess I’ve always liked spending time with her. They’re moments I’ll always cherish”
“So…embrace this last moment,” the nurse said gently.
Takeru’s palms went cold, but he straightened his back and took a deep breath, exchanging one final smile with the kind nurse before pushing the door open.
The moment he walked in, he was struck by the aroma of the room. His grandmother always smelled of lavender. Back when he was young, he didn’t recognize it as lavender. Instead, it was quintessentially his grandmother’s scent. Then one day, he discovered by accident that it was indeed lavender after testing out the myriads of perfumes at the large New York City department store during a trip there with his family. But still, it didn’t matter to him. It will always be his grandmother’s smell, and right now, despite her clinging to life, the cancer taking away her vitality and energy, she still insists on being shrouded in her scent, the smell of lavender permeating every corner of the room.
He swallowed his fears and advanced into the bright bedroom, where his grandmother laid in bed, dwarfed by pillows and comforters. Unlike his imagination, she was not attached to tubes and machines, but laid untethered and free, one step away from flying off to the spirit world. She turned at the sound of his approaching footsteps, her white hair floating behind her as if it was on water. Despite her condition, her golden eyes were sharp and vibrant, and it honed in on him the moment he entered the room.
She raised her hand towards him, a knowing smile glinting off her features.
“Oba-chan,” he greeted her and accepted her hand. He was the only grandchild that called her oba-chan, and he was damn proud of it.
“Takeru,” she greeted him, then heaved a sigh, “What took you so long?”
Takeru laughed and wiped away the leaked tears before responding.
“Sorry, Oba-chan, there was a snowstorm and my plane was delayed.”
She waved the explanation away and laughed, “Never mind that, you made it. You’re here. Tell me, Takeru, how is school? How is life in California?”
Takeru shrugged, the tears now overflowing down his cheeks.
“Oba-chan, never mind me. I’d…I’d rather hear your stories. I…I want to hear your voice, Oba-chan.”
His voice broke at the final word, but to his surprise, his grandmother laughed again, piercing him with the intensity of her golden orbs.
“I’d rather not spend our last moments together discussing the inevitability of my death, Takeru. We all die one day, that’s just a fact of life. I’d rather hear about you. So tell me, Takeru, do you have any updates? Have you met anyone over in California?”
Takeru laughed, and parked himself down on the chair by his grandmother’s bed. He held her wrinkled hands between his, it felt so cold and thin. He tried remembering the strengths behind them from when he was growing up, watching her shape rice balls in her small kitchen with those experienced fingers.
“I don’t have time for all that stuff, Oba-chan. I’m in my last year of University now, and things are getting intense...”
His grandmother clicked her tongue, the impishness behind the gesture surprising him. But then again, he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, it was his Oba-chan, and he knew his Oba-chan was capable of things he could never imagine.
“Takeru, heed my warning, don’t make the same mistakes I did,” she informed him.
Takeru raised his brow in confusion, “What do you mean?”
His grandmother sighed, settling down on the bed and lifting her gaze to the ceiling. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, Takeru was worried the moment had come.
“Have I ever told you…the story of my Takeru?”
Takeru balked, “Your Takeru?” his inside squirmed, a tiny bit of hurt worming its way around his innards.
There was another Takeru?
“We grew up together, me and Takeru. We went on adventures, fought monsters, survived so much, much more than any book can ever dare retell,” she chuckled before continuing, her eyes closed as if replaying a movie behind her shuttered eyelids, “But let me tell you, he tried retelling them in those books he wrote, but I know…I know he could never hope to achieve what he wanted from them.”
She sighed, while Takeru remained silent, running his thumbs across the blue of her veins as he waited for her to continue.
“I never met another soul that complimented mine so well. He understood me better than I understood myself, and I was the same with him. I didn’t know it at the time, but I loved him, but it was such a different and unique type of love, one that I can never describe with words. It felt like all the stars in the universe conspired to bring us together. I was made for him, and he was made for me. But…”
She paused, bringing her free hand up to wipe away tears clinging to the corners of her eyes.
“We squandered everything, and…I left…and he stayed in Japan,” she sighed again, before opening her eyes and turning her gaze to him. He shivered at the strength behind those orbs. Age has taken away her mobility and her strength, but never once did it take away the light behind his Oba-chan’s eyes.
“I try not to live my life with regrets, Takeru. You know that about me…”
Takeru nodded vehemently. His grandmother laughed before continuing her story.
“But…I regretted this,” she squeezed his hands and allowed the tears to flow untempered down her papery cheeks. Instinctively, Takeru raised his hand and wiped them away from the creases in her skin, memorizing the feel of life beneath his fingertips before it would be taken away from him.
“I don’t regret having your father, and I don’t regret the grandchildren I was gifted with, that part I can never ever regret, but Takeru, I often wonder…what could have been…if I hadn’t thrown away my one chance at happiness, if I hadn’t made the mistakes I did”
His grandmother sighed, a forlorn blast of air tunnelling out of her frail body. Takeru wanted nothing more than to waft the molecules of life back into his grandmother. But instead, he remained still and watched as more tears rolled down her face.
“I remembered the day you were born, Takeru. I was there. Your father placed you in my arms minutes after you were born, and although you were crying and hollering like all babies do when they enter this world, you stopped the moment I held you. Then…you laughed. Everyone was baffled by your reaction, but…I knew. I knew because I saw so much of him in you, so much sunshine and happiness, so much…hope. I couldn’t believe that after all these years, the universe was still conspiring to bring hope back to me, to remind me of all that I lost. It was lucky your parents allowed me to name you because I knew the name was meant to be yours. Takeru. It was a reminder that no matter the circumstances, hope will always find its way back to me. After all, light exists to bring hope back to it.”
“Oba-chan,” Takeru whispered, “I had…I had no idea.”
He squeezed her hand, and she returned the gesture. A light smile floated up her lips as she turned her gaze towards him.
“Promise me you won’t make the same mistakes I did, Takeru. Find your light and hold onto her, don’t let her go, don’t run away from your chance at happiness.”
Takeru flashed his own smile and nodded. His Oba-chan raised a shaking hand to brush aside some of his hair. He was overwhelmed by the delicate gesture, bringing back all those moments in his childhood when his Oba-chan would comb her fingers through his hair, and he would take pride in how his hair had the same chestnut brown shade as hers, while all his siblings had darker hair like their mother.
Then, his grandmother closed her eyes, sighing once more as she tilted her weathered face towards the window.
“Takeru, I’m coming. I’m coming home…to you.”
Takeru held his breath, watching as a peaceful smile graced his grandmother’s face once more, then with a final sputtering breath, she was still.
There followed a tornado of activity afterward, the doors opening as if somehow, the nurse knew the exact moment she needed to enter. Footsteps echoed all around him, followed by choked sobs and fervent whispers, but he remained still, his hands clenched around his grandmother’s as it grew colder and colder by the second.
From somewhere above him, he heard the nurses dictating something, and realized it was the details for his grandmother’s death certificate.
“Time of death: 7:07 PM. Name of deceased…Hika…Hikor…”
Takeru looked up at the nurse, and at long last, the tears he was holding back broke free, flooding his golden eyes and trailing down his cheeks.
“Hikari Yagami,” he whispered, “Her name was…Hikari Yagami.”
—
It was a balmy winter’s evening the night she received the call.
She will never forget the moment she picked up the phone, her frantic father on the other line asking if she could come to her grandfather’s house immediately. Without needing a reason, she agreed, and it was only afterward, as she hurriedly tucked pyjamas into an overnight bag that she heard the story in full.
Her grandfather, writer extraordinary Takeru Takaishi, strong and healthy as a horse when she paid him a surprise visit just three days ago, had suffered a massive stroke and was now clinging to life. But despite the doctor’s insistence, her grandfather rejected all offers of treatment and made a bid for his final wish.
I just want to go home.
So with a heavy heart, his children transferred him back to his small house on the outskirt of Tokyo. She heard he wasn’t responding too much, he wasn't saying much to anyone. But amazingly, there was only one word he spoke, one name on his lips…
“Hikari, he wants to see you. He keeps asking for you, so can you please come? Please, he doesn’t have much time left”
She stumbled into the familiar home, a site of so much comfort, happiness, and warmth. But today was an entirely different story. All around her was heartbreak and sadness, her parents and extended family sat with their heads bent, the light only returning once she entered the door.
Her father ran to meet her first, encircling his arms around her the moment he was within distance.
“I’m so sorry, Hikari, I know it's a long way for you to come but…your grandfather is asking for you.”
In response, Hikari donned a brave smile and locked eyes with him.
“There’s nothing to apologize for, dad. On the contrary, thank you for calling me. I would much rather be here with jiji-san before…before…”
There was a moment of silence between them, perhaps a moment for her father to gather the strength to hold the tears at bay. Then a small smile broke through his clouded features, and he took Hikari by the hand and led her down the hall to where her grandfather’s room was.
“Hikari, a warning, the stroke left your grandfather in a really bad state. He can barely talk…so…if you feel uncomfortable or scared, come and get us.”
Hikari’s knees shook once before she straightened her stance, smiling and nodding again.
“I’ll be fine, I promise,” she assured her father.
Her father returned the smile, “Of course you will be. You are our Hikari, after all. To be honest, we’re not surprised he asked for you. We know you’ve always shared a special bond with him.”
He signalled to her grandfather’s room, the door cracked open by a mere sliver. Hikari, admittedly not entirely sure what she was doing, took a deep breath and entered.
The early morning dawn spilled into her grandfather’s room through drawn open curtains, giving enough light for her to see her grandfather laying still on his bed, his chest heaving up and down with laboured movements. Her disbelief mounted, she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, wishing and bargaining for the universe to wake her up from this horrendous nightmare.
Just three days ago, her grandfather was laughing at his own corny jokes, telling stories and playing cards with her at his kitchen table. And now, he was bound on his bed, struggling to breath as his final moment approaches.
How could things have changed this quickly?
With those thoughts, she moved deeper into the bedroom, creeping close on tiptoes until she could see her grandfather’s pale face, his lips unnaturally blue as he struggled to pull air into his lungs.
Crap, she can’t do this.
She backtracked, but only made a few steps back before her grandfather’s eyes opened, and she was frozen by the determined glare in those blue orbs.
“Jiji-san,” she breathed out.
Her grandfather stirred, angling his face towards her before flashing a stilted smile, one half of his face paralyzed by the effects of the stroke.
“Hikari,” he managed to call out.
“Yes, I’m here, jiji-san,” she announced.
The smile on his face widened, despite the mobility stolen from his muscles.
“Jiji-san…please don’t go yet,” she pleaded.
Her grandfather closed his eyes again and sighed, and Hikari was possessed by an overwhelming fear that this would be it. His final breath of life. But then he opened his eyes, and she was shocked by the strengths of his next sentence, despite the obvious slur linking his words together.
“It’s time for me to go, dear Hikari, I can hear her calling to me.”
Hikari wrinkled her brows in confusion, “What do you mean? Who’s calling to you?”
Much to her surprise, her grandfather laughed, a strained guffaw transitioning to a hard cough. Hikari’s heart dropped, but he recovered after a few gasps for air, and lifted his hand and waved as if it was nothing.
“Never mind,” he mumbled weakly. He trained his eyes on Hikari once again, then pressed his hand on top of hers.
“It never ceases to amaze me…how much of her I see in you,” her grandfather continued.
She was perplexed, but chose instead to weave her fingers in-between her grandfather’s and offered a patient smile.
“Shh…jiji-san, save your strength.”
“Yes, always so selfless and kind, always putting others before you. She was the bravest and strongest woman I have ever met, standing up to monsters twenty times her size, knowing exactly when to use her strength, and when to neutralize others through her kindness.”
Despite her best effort to keep it within herself, the question tumbled out of her.
“Jiji-san…who…who are you talking about?”
Her jiji-san sighed, opening and closing his eyes as if testing his control over them before responding in a heavy tone.
“She was…my Hikari.”
Hikari froze, disbelief collided with confusion, her inside a battledome of emotion.
There was another Hikari?
“We grew up together, she was my light, my hope, my reasons for everything. I loved her with the type of love that can’t be described through words. But alas, we lost it all, dear Hikari, and now, not a day goes by that I don’t wonder…what could have been between us.”
He closed his eyes, then opened them again to a pool of tears forming over his orbs, accentuating its blueness. Hikari reached up and wiped them away, and was rewarded with a smile from her grandfather.
“I’m forever grateful for the life I lived. I loved your grandmother, I loved your father, I loved your aunt, and I love all my grandchildren, especially…you…”
Hikari held her breath, watching him carefully as he continued once again.
“But…it doesn’t stop me from thinking about her...every day. I love her so much, to a degree that scared even myself. But when she left, she took everything away from me, and I was left with nothing but my own emptiness. I tried and tried and tried in vain to grasp onto that love we shared by writing and writing and writing, publishing books and working to remember every detail of our lives together but…I couldn’t do it. It was a life lost to unfortunate circumstances.”
Her grandfather closed his eyes and rested his head back on the pillow, taking a few deep breaths before continuing.
“I remembered the day you were born, Hikari. The memory is still so vivid, even now. When I held you for the first time, I was struck by the strength and the kindness in your eyes, of how much of her I see in you. I couldn’t tell if it was a gift from the universe or if it was a cruel reminder of the emptiness left by her absence. But I shouldn’t be surprised, because after all, light is always with me, light will always be with me, because hope means to never lose the light…no matter how dark it may get. So it seemed fitting that the universe found a way to bring light back to me, in a different context, sure, but back to me all the same.”
He squeezed her hands, and Hikari thought he saw a slight twitch of the lips before he continued his words.
“Your parents had a name picked out for you, but I begged them to reconsider, because I knew you were meant to be Hikari.”
Hikari gasped, but kept silent as her Jiji-san continued, his voice losing strength with each passing word.
“I will always find my way back to the light. After all, that’s what hope does. Hope holds onto light no matter how dark it gets.”
“Jiji-san…”
“Heed my warning, Hikari, please don’t make the same mistake as me…please hold onto your hope once you find it, don’t let that force go, don’t run away from your chance at happiness. Will you promise me that, Hikari?”
Hikari hesitated for a moment. She can’t say she fully understood what her grandfather was telling her, but she understood enough, so she nodded with a teary smile.
“I promise, Jiji-san.”
Her grandfather sighed in relief, then closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the open window, taking in a deep breath before a peaceful smile graced his features.
“Lavender…” he whispered, “I’m here, Hikari. I’m ready. I’m ready to finally come home…to you.”
Then he was still.
Hikari pressed her palm against her open mouth, not daring to believe it had finally come to pass. But then tears overwhelmed her vision, and she broke into a hard sob, prompting her family members to come in one-by-one so they too, could join her in mourning the loss of their beloved family member.
In between sobs and tearful embraces, Hikari managed to catch a glimpse of the clock on the bedside table, mentally making note of the time her grandfather crossed over to the spirit world.
7:08 AM
—
The streets of Tokyo are a lot narrower than Takeru had imagined, but a lot cleaner and the air a lot denser. He walked through the bustling metropolis, feeling literally like a fish swimming upstream. Throngs of men in suits and gaggles of schoolgirls with colourful bags pushed past him, while he desperately waded in the opposite directions, following the pulsating arrow on his phone.
After a few more wrong turns and stumbles, he at long last found himself by the pier. Instinctively, he perched himself at the edge, leaning over the railing and filling his lungs with the salty breeze of Tokyo Bay, gazing out at its expanse. From where he stood, he could see the colossal bridge connecting Odaiba to the rest of Tokyo, its structure reminiscent of the Golden Gate Bridge he crossed over many times during his studies in California.
“Oba-san,” he whispered out to the water, “Are you here? Have you returned to the land you grew up on?”
He took another deep breath, then turned on his heel and made his way towards the restaurant marked with a red arrow on his phone.
Since losing his grandmother, he found himself lost and aimless. He wasn’t surprised at the level of grief felt in the depth of his soul. After all, he was closest to his grandmother, and his grandmother was closest to him. But what he was surprised by was the restlessness within his soul. He heard a calling deep inside of him, not a whisper but a heartfelt roar, asking him to find something…search for something, and while rooting through his late grandmother’s belongings one spring afternoon, he found a purpose to wrap his spirit around.
Postcards, letters, photos.
All bundled together with a delicate string, finished with a peculiar yellow charm. He saw pictures of Tokyo past, images of a younger version of his grandmother standing with a group of friends that were so close, he might have mistaken them for her family, and in each image, she stood together with one man, a man with yellow hair the colour of the sun, still vibrant despite the age of the photo.
He could only assume that this was her Takeru.
The more he poured over the photos and letters, the more his curiosity grew, until he made the decision that he would do it. He would fly to Tokyo and find his Oba-san’s Takeru, to meet him in person and let him know how much he meant to her.
That’s what Oba-san would have wanted.
He started by scouring every social media site available to him, searching up names after names in directories, until at long last, he found her.
It turned out, she was named Hikari, too.
And it turned out, he was too late, his grandmother’s Takeru had left this world. But still, he felt compelled to meet this Hikari. There was something telling him that perhaps this was what Oba-san would also want for him, if she was still with him today.
He entered the bright restaurant, and was greeted by the smell of fresh-cooked eggs, drenching his mouth with saliva. He pressed shaking fingers against his eyes to hold back the tears, remembering how his grandmother had made eggs for him during their quiet weekends together.
I must have cooked a million eggs for you at this point, young man.
He smiled fondly at the memory, then focused back to his surroundings, studying the nearly full restaurant before finally locating her in one of the booths.
Yes, this was Hikari. He recognized her because he’s spent hours studying her posted photos, but nothing prepared him for when he finally laid eyes on her, for nothing was as good as seeing something this real before him.
Just like her grandfather, she had hair the colour of the sun, her blue eyes sparkled with familiar warmth. She beamed when she saw him, and Takeru knew that she smiled not only with her lips, but with her entire energy, the aura of happiness and sunshine radiating off her as he neared their table.
“Hello,” she greeted him with a slight bow.
Takeru returned the gesture awkwardly, the only motion his muscles would allow him to give. The next few minutes passed by with him in stunned silence, studying this Hikari before him with an uncontrollable grin.
It was Hikari that finally broke the silence, emitting a soft laugh before speaking.
“Welcome to Tokyo,” she greeted, “I’m honoured to have this chance to introduce myself to you in person. I am Hikari. Hikari Takaishi”
Finally, the words returned to him. He laughed, then took a deep breath to unnerve himself before responding to her.
“Thank you, and trust me, the honour is all mine. I’m Takeru. Takeru Yagami.”
Takeru gestured for them to sit. They sat across from each other, their faces flushed with dazzled eyes.
“I didn’t realize you had your grandmother’s last name,” Hikari declared.
“Yes, it’s a long story but in a nutshell, my…grandfather wasn’t in the picture. I’ve never even met him, so when my dad was born, my grandmother gave him her last name. He was her only children with that last name, because she remarried after, and so my aunts and uncles all had her husband’s last name.”
Hikari nodded in understanding, “How serendipitous, because that’s how I knew who you were when you reached out to me. Yagami, I remembered seeing the name in my grandfather’s journals numerous times.”
“Yeah? Did he write about my grandmother a lot?”
Hikari laughed, “Oh yes…pages and pages and pages of it. To be honest, if you hadn’t reached out to me fist, then I would have tried to find you. I could tell that my grandfather loved your grandmother immensely, and it felt like…I had to find her, or at least a part of her.”
Takeru blinked in disbelief, before settling into the rarity of this moment.
“You know…I feel the same way.”
In response, Hikari flashed another smile. Takeru felt immediately warmed by it, his soul dancing with hers in familiar beats.
“Hikari, I feel like…I feel like I’ve known you all my life.”
Hikari tilted her head to the side, but then, the smile returned, and Takeru felt for the first time in his life, a complete sense of home and belonging underneath the curve of that lip.
“I feel the same way,” she declared.
They stared at one another in earnest before sharing a laugh. Then, emboldened by some courage Takeru didn’t know he had, he reached out and placed his hand on top of Hikari’s, and much to his delight, she tilted her palm until they sat holding each other’s hand across the table, his grandmother’s words echoing in his head as he studied the depth of her blue eyes.
Promise me you won’t make the same mistakes I did, Takeru. Find your light and hold onto her, don’t let her go, don’t run away from your chance at happiness.
“I won’t let you down, Oba-san,” he whispered.
“Sorry?” Hikari called out.
He blushed, but shrugged it off and turned his attention back to her.
“Hikari, I know this is crazy…and we just met but…do you…do you want to spend some more time together while I’m in Tokyo? I’d love to maybe…get to know you and take you out…maybe on a date?”
Hikari laughed, her cheeks reddening as she responded to his proposal.
“I thought…we were already on a date.”
Takeru sighed in relief, and they laughed once again. It felt silly, all the laughing they were doing together. But then again, he heard that this was a good sign.
Just then, a warm breeze blew across the window. They turned their heads towards it at the same time, and Takeru swore he smelt it, the aroma enriching his memory these past few months, bringing him back to his favourite moments in his grandmother’s quaint home.
“Lavender,” Hikari whispered.
Takeru turned to hers, “You felt it, too?”
Hikari beamed and nodded, and they turned back towards the water, where off in the distance, straddling the thick Tokyo air were two butterflies with their wings bent close. Takeru held his breath as he watched them dance together, absorbed in their iridescent beauty.
Somehow, he knew with certainty, and without saying it, he knew Hikari could feel it, too. Hope and light had found each other once again.
All felt right in the universe.