The pure present is an ungraspable advance of the past devouring the future. In truth, all sensation is already memory. To exist is to change, to change is to mature, to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly. - Henri Bergson, Matter and Memory
“I don’t appreciate the theatrics, Hanako…” I gripe in a quiet tone to my pseudo-date, tugging at the bowtie around my neck as if it were a noose that was slowly choking me.
The idea seemed almost appealing when I first caught sight of my ex-girlfriend ten minutes ago but when I realised this had to be my former classmate’s idea; I thought about throttling her instead. The darkest parts of my imagination conjured worse but I would never entertain those, no matter how painful this evening may end up being.
“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, Mr Nakai. And remember; it’s ‘Ikaneko’ while we’re here.” The up-and-coming young adult author sways merrily with a drink in her gloved hand. Her asymmetrical attire only accentuates her mysterious masquerade amongst the other costumed party-goers.
“You know exactly what I mean.” I adjust the crimson mask on my own face, unsure how unrecognisable I might be compared to Hanako, whose faded mask of make-up and unusual dress affords her a degree of anonymity even amongst her co-workers. I gelled my hair back but now I’m feeling very conscious about how well it’ll keep its integrity. “Misaki’s going to spot me a mile away. Especially with that lens of hers.”
“Misaki is here for a job; not for you. She needed the work and I happened to know my editor wanted some professional photos taken of the New Year’s Gala.” Hanako rolls her eyes as she pulls a few bangs from the slicked-back body of hair and drapes them across my vision. “Paranoia doesn’t suit you, Hisao.”
“It’s not paranoia when you are clearly out to get me.” I narrow my eyes at my raven-haired friend before offering a smirk.
“Now why would I ever be out to get you?” She smirks back knowingly and I’m reminded of the numerous times I’ve tried to set her up with some of the nicer guys in my teaching class. The types that Hanako might take to for her usual reasons; their humour or their smarts. I can never seem to pick a good one though, much to Hanako’s amusement.
“Okay, fair point but if you’ll excuse me, Ms Ikaneko…” I bow with an elaborate flourish - an act that Hanako giggles at and reciprocates with a slight curtsy. “I’m going to make like a Lagrange point and get the hell out of your orbit before you attract trouble.”
“Go find Mrs Yamato; she loves when young men talk nerdy to her!” Hanako calls after me and I have to suppress the desire to flip her the bird. Hanako is a long way from the shy girl I met once upon a time ago and what I’ve discovered is an immensely childish, yet sadistic, sense of playfulness.
It’s not hard to think back on my time at Yamaku six years ago; that summer that seemed to last forever. That crawled along like a tired beetle along a baking log. That changed my life forever. I can’t really remember how I fell in with the Newspaper Club alongside Hanako but I do recall when I first truly met Misaki Kawana.
“You’re in my shot.” The navy-haired girl said in an annoyed tone while simultaneously taking a photo of me, the audible shutter noise chittering inches from my face. When pressed on why she did that, she said it wasn’t a big deal, she’d taken photos of me before. I remember being annoyed at being photographed without my permission but Hanako explained it’s just what Misaki does and that there was no arguing with her.
“She’s right, y’know. It’s like, uh, freedom of the press.” Misaki smirked smugly but when I asked if she was part of the Newspaper Club, she laughed. She had a really nice laugh.
“That rag-sheet? Hell no. No offence, Hana.”
I shake the memory out of my mind as the bartender places a tumbler of whiskey in front of me. I take it in hand and scan the room as I lean against the bar. I find Hanako speaking with an older gentleman in a rather plain suit and tie with a feathered mask. It’s hardly the most lavish party but even those of us on a meagre budget managed to conjure up more than that. The plainly-dressed Misaki, on the other hand, is no where in sight which worries me no end.
Feeling a bit more exposed than I’d prefer, I down my drink and head towards the stairs to the upper lobby level. The publisher’s building isn’t the most modern but it is nicely designed with glass and steel. Aesthetics was never my thing, something Misaki would always point out to me.
“And what does a dutch angle do to a cinder block, Shutterbug?” I asked, frowning as Misaki got onto her stomach and rolled from side-to-side, taking shots of a grey brick from different angles. I didn’t understand then and I still don’t now.
“Soooo many things, Hisao. Trust the process.” She said, rolling onto her back and offering her free hand up to me while holding her camera in the other. I grabbed her hand with both of mine and pulled her up with more force than I really intended. She stumbled forward when she got to her feet. Despite all my concerns about my heart, my body moved to catch her and I did.
Time stood still as I held that dusty girl in my arms and we stared into each other's eyes. Her arms were braced against my shoulders while I held her forearms. The sound of her shutter going off right next to my face startled me enough that I stumbled backwards. Her free hand caught my shoulder and drew me back in, closer than last time.
“Guess that makes us even, huh.” Misaki chuckled, blushing as our noses practically touched. I don’t remember what compelled me to kiss her at that moment but it felt right at the time. And a bunch of other times after that. Until it didn’t.
I haul my body up the last few steps using the hand-railing. My chest heaves a little more heavily than is normal for that amount of stairs but the sharp pain in my chest and shoulder, along with the pulsing throb in the back of my head helps me diagnose the problem; I’m having an anxiety attack.
I take a seat on a nearby bench outside someone’s office, leaning against the cool wall and begin the recovery routine I developed for these situations. I reach for my phone and text Hanako; letting her know the situation and where I am. I close my eyes and begin a slow breathing exercise as I focus on the soft ambient jazz music in the lobby below.
I’m going to be out of commission for a while but hopefully Hanako will get here soon. I hate to drag her away from her own work party but I remind myself that this is her fault, really.
“I c-c-can’t be blamed f-f-for your f-failures, Hisao.” Hanako chided. Even with the remnants of her stutter, her new-found confidence in herself was something to behold. She handed my English comprehension paper back to me with a disapproving shake of her head. “I c-can only blame m-myself as your tu-tutor.”
“Nah, let him sink or swim, Hana.” Misaki smirked, snapping a picture of the two of us. “If Hisao can’t focus on what’s really important then that’s on him.”
I shot Misaki a look I often did; a look that conveyed my utter disbelief at her own lack of accountability in my then failing grades. She was the one who dragged me out into the setting sun of the fields surrounding Yamaku to get the perfect magic hour shot when I was supposed to be studying.
I didn’t know it at the time but she was setting the stage for the next step of our fledgling relationship. Something that I would never forget.
I rub the muscle cluster just below my clavicle and above my armpit. That specific pain tells me I’m not actually dying of a heart attack like the anxiety is telling me. A psychosomatic trick of the mind and body. It’s amazing how the two in tandem can betray you into thinking the worst… Though as an all-too familiar sound of a shutter firing off makes my eyes snap open - I feel I could have another heart attack all-too soon.
“You okay, mister?” A navy-haired woman asks as her lowering camera reveals a concerned look on her face. There’s Misaki. Looking as amazing as ever. “Had one too many?”
And I guess she doesn’t recognise me in this get-up after all… All that worrying for nothing. I nod rapidly, closing my eyes once again.
“Just needed a breather… And for the room to stop spinning.” I say through gritted teeth, the timbre of my voice lower than usual due to the pain.
“Need water or anything?” Misaki asks but my reclusive rescuer finally makes her entrance. Always with the theatrics.
“I have water for the poor fellow right here, Ms Photographer!” Hanako says in a very strange voice. Like she’s upper-class or royalty. She takes a seat next to me where her exposed face is hidden by the monolith-like pauldron that hides her burn scars.
“That’s good; he looks like he’s seen a ghost.” Misaki breathes a sigh of relief and turns away for a moment to take a shot of the crowd from this vantage point. I take the opportunity to raise a confused eyebrow at Hanako, who can only nod solemnly as she hands the glass of water to me.
“Ms Photographer, have you seen the darling young power couple near the tree? The blonde and the brunette in mirrored outfits?” Hanako asks, waltzing over to Misaki and pointing off to the far end of the room.
“Huh? Oh, those two? They’re a couple? Coulda fooled me.” Misaki shrugged, causing Hanako to laugh.
“I know! I wouldn’t have thought so either but if you get a good look at the brunette, you’ll notice she has heterochromia.”
“Really? Think I need to go get a picture of that then! Thanks for the tip.” Misaki grinned and trotted toward the stairs, taking them one-by-one like I often saw her do at school. I can’t really tell through her working attire but given her upright posture, I have to assume she’s wearing her corrective brace.
Hanako tilts her head upward, watching Misaki disappear down the stairs before allowing her own posture to slump as she steps towards me. Her exasperated expression meets mine and before she can even speak, I have to ask.
“What is this?” I asked as I studied the strange bundle of spandex and straps that Misaki’s uniform blouse was hiding. She shrugged the garment off her shoulders and spin a little on the spot, allowing me a full three-sixty of her torso.
When Misaki said she wanted to show me something and began to undo the buttons of her blouse, I was honestly expecting way more flesh than I saw on display that evening. She chuckled as she explained she was part of a trial for the apparatus she was wearing; a SpineCor corrective brace.
“I told you I have scoliosis, Hisao. This is the reason I don’t look like a hunchback most of the time.”
“So you have to wear that all the time?” I asked, stepping forward when Misaki offered her hand out and guided mine to the various straps. She knew I had a passing fascination with the assistance devices that people used and allowed me to touch and ask about hers. It was all very intimate.
“I have to wear it for around twenty hours a day; even when sleeping.”
“And it doesn’t hurt?”
“It…” She paused and looked down. I couldn’t see her face but I imagined it was sad at the time, though when I reached out to it, I only found a bittersweet smile. “It takes some getting used to.”
I nodded with a small degree of understanding. I loosened my tie and began to unbutton my own shirt, her eyes became laser-focused on my hands as I exposed my chest, and my scar, to her for the first time.
“It’s beautiful, Hisao…” A coy little smile played on her lips as she looked up at my face and back to my chest. She reached out and ran a slender finger along its length as she pressed herself against me. Again, it all felt very intimate. “You’re beautiful.”
“I wasn’t l-l-lying when I said this w-wasn’t about y-you, Hisao.” Hanako sighs in annoyance as she plops down next to me, her chin resting on her hands. The tell-tale nervous stammer returning is a sure sign that whatever her plan was hasn’t worked.
“She didn’t recognise either of us.” I state the obvious and Hanako nods in agreement.
“N-nope. And you’re h-hardly incognito. No amount of gel is taming that d-doinker you have.” She waggles her finger towards my head and, sure enough, I can feel an obvious flip of hair defying gravity.
“Then what the hell is going on?”
“After… everything that happened…” Hanako shoots me a guilty look, as if bringing it up will somehow hurt me more than it already has. “I kept in contact with Misaki as best I could but eventually she stopped answering my messages. It was around then that her parents started talking to me. Giving me the odd update.”
“Well, you do have a way with parental figures.” I chuckle a little and Hanako tilts her head in begrudging acknowledgement. I don’t think I’ve met a parent of a Yamaku student who didn’t immediately take to Hanako. I know my parents did.
“But Misaki’s not been herself. Not since…” Again, Hanako looks at me guiltily. It wasn’t her fault but she can’t help but feel bad for what happened to me. Again. The memory is seared into my brain in the same way that a certain winter under a certain tree is.
Being caught up in a spontaneous moment, passion igniting as bodies are pressed together. Sudden, familiar, pain. Pain surged through my body as the air escaped my lungs. Panicked eyes met each other amongst tall grass and diffused magic hour light. Exposed, sweaty flesh feeling colder than it should and a desperate cry for help was the last thing I heard as everything went dark.
The next thing I remembered was the stark contrast of the cold fluorescent lights of the hospital compared to the golden hues of the fields. The next after that was fresh pains along my upper torso and arms as I came back to the land of the living.
“H-H-Hisao?” A quiet voice, somewhere else in the room. Familiar. Hanako. My view adjusted as the bed’s motors moved to raise me into a sitting position and I saw my parents and Hanako looking back at me. I couldn’t speak, my throat was so dry. Over the next few hours, I was let in on the mystery of what had happened to me.
I’d had another heart attack. I’d died in that field and Hanako, somehow, had saved my life. I now had a pacemaker and had been in the hospital for the better part of six months. I’d lost another six months of my life to another heart attack. To another girl.
The one who wasn’t there. I never saw Misaki again.
“I don’t think any of us have really been the same since that summer.” I offer solemnly with an appreciative pat of Hanako’s back. Words cannot express what she means to me but ‘family’ is the best descriptor I have for what we are now.
“No, I mean… Misaki doesn’t remember going to Yamaku at all.”
I stare at Hanako for longer than she would usually be comfortable with but the fact that she keeps her eyes on mine makes my blood run cold with realisation.
“What?” I double-take, shaking my head and breaking eye contact. The disbelief and anger in my voice radiates from the core of my follow-up question. “How?”
Hanako takes my hand in hers, as readily as she did back when she visited me in the hospital. After Lilly left, I like to think I helped Hanako adjust and to broaden her horizons but, if I’m really honest with myself, it’s when I became dependent on her that she came into her own.
Like a lioness protecting an injured cub, she helped me through what could have been the thing that destroyed me. Eventually, we found a way to support each other. She’s my best friend in the whole world.
“Misaki’s parents told me that a few weeks after she withdrew from Yamaku… Misaki had a nervous breakdown. She was so convinced that she’d killed you, despite being told otherwise, she… snapped.” Hanako explains calmly as my grip tightens.
If I’m hurting her, she doesn’t give it away, only looking on with the same look of compassion she had when she would visit in the hospital.
“But she seemed fine just now…” I say and Hanako shakes her head.
“She is from her perspective. She remembers her childhood, her condition, how to use a camera, everything that is Misaki Kawana; except the two-and-a-half years she spent at Yamaku. The most she recalls is that she went to a boring boarding school.”
“That’s… Fucking insane!” I growl incredulously. Whatever feelings of anxiety remained were now replaced with a growing anger as I stand, fists balled. “I lost another six months of my life in another fucking hospital because of her and she doesn’t even remember!”
“Hey! She lost two-and-a-half years b-b-because of you so l-let’s not start measuring trauma-dicks!” Hanako snaps, tugging me back around to face her. “I get y-your angry but don’t act like you didn’t play a p-p-part in this t-t-too.”
“What the hell, Hanako? You’re victim-blaming?!” I should really know better than to argue with her; she’s real mean when she’s angry but she’s out of line.
“You’re not b-blameless, Hisao.” She folds her arms across her chest, defiantly.
“Fu-” I almost get a curse out when Hanako interrupts me.
“You knew what g-going to that field with her w-would mean and you were moooore than willing. Couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off your face if I tried!”
“I…” Can’t argue with that. Hanako was more than privy to a lot of my relationship with Misaki. I hesitate to call her a third wheel but…
“This isn’t like Iwanako when you didn’t know sh-shit. You knew the risks and so did she. Both of you were prepared but it still w-w-went bad and you both suffered.”
“But at least I still remember it! All the pain, all of my recovery time, having to take all those catch-up exams! It’s not fair!”
“And she doesn’t remember her friends! She doesn’t have any memories of you or your time together. Your excursions into the city, to the art gallery, to the aquarium.” Hanako reels off many of my dates with Misaki with a pointed finger pressed into my shoulder. “Hell, I know more about her first kiss than she does.”
That… That stings. I cast my gaze down and try to imagine not knowing the people I met at Yamaku. Hanako, Nattie and Naomi, Akio… Even the others that… I couldn’t imagine not-knowing any of them. It would feel like there’s a hole in the world. I hope that’s not what Misaki feels.
“Does that sound like a fair thing to you, Hisao?” Hanako’s hand reaches for my face and I meet her eyes - those soothing pools of indigo.
“No… It doesn’t…” I answer quietly, resting my face in her palm.
“I’m sorry, Hisao. I didn’t mean to be so hard on you.” She offers a sympathetic smile and gestures towards the balcony overlooking the lobby. She links her arm with mine as she guides me to the railing.
“You were already dealing with s-so m-much… And after you made it clear you never wanted to see her again… I thought it best if I didn’t tell you.” Hanako’s face contorts into a sad frown. “I remember how sullen you were when we first met. I didn’t want to set you back to that or, god forbid, worse.”
I close my eyes and take a long breath, considering Hanako’s words with a little more thought and a little less emotion. I was already in a bad place and that knowledge would have made it so much worse. I agree with what she did…
“I get it. Thanks for looking out for me.” I smile at my best friend and she returns it in kind. “But now I really don’t buy that line about Misaki needing work.”
Hanako flashes her most mischievous grin and points out into the crowd. “Over there, the people I pointed out to her earlier. Do you recognise them?”
I look to where Hanako is pointing and see Misaki photographing two young women; one blonde, one brunette. Their outfits are mirrored versions of the other’s and their masks are much the same. I then remember what Hanako had said about the brunette and the penny drops.
“Are they…?” I look to Hanako, who nods affirmatively before gesturing to a red-haired gentleman in a compound bug-eye mask. Then to a sandy brown-haired woman in a butterfly mask.
“Natsume. Naomi. Akio. Ikuno. Basically anyone within the industry and could get here on short-notice. Takashi couldn’t make it, unfortunately.” Hanako explains and I finally see the scale of her plan.
“Was this all one of your elaborate ruses to get her memories back?” I ask. Hanako’s smile fades as she breathes a sad little sigh and shakes her head.
“No. Well, maybe a little, but I knew that’d be unlikely. But this… This is everyone I could get hold of. Everyone who could be here.”
I know Miki moved back home to the country. Molly, Misha, and Lilly are all in different countries…
“Damn.” I add, mournfully remembering those of us that didn’t make it at all. Lezard, Taro, Suzu…
“We’ve lost touch with so many of our friends, Hisao… Do you see why I invited Misaki now?” Hanako asks and I nod, smirking at Hanako’s clever gambit. Ever the game player.
“I do… ‘From this day to the ending of the world, but we in it shall be remember’d…’” I quote Shakespeare and Hanako doesn’t disappoint me as she finishes the quote.
“‘We few, we happy few, we band of brothers’.” She smirks before resting her head on my shoulder. “I just wanted to get as many of us together as I could. One last time.”
“What d-d-do you mean?” I turn her to face me, worried what she could mean. Hanako blinks in confusion before raising a hand to her mouth.
“Oh! N-n-no! There’s n-n-nothing wrong, I just…” I breathe a sigh of relief as Hanako hugs me. “It was hard enough coordinating this. I just wanted us all to have one good memory to remember each other. Even Misaki.”
I wrap my arms around my best friend and squeeze her tight, eliciting one of her cute little ‘eeps’.
“You clever little sneak.” I chuckle, releasing her.
“H-hey! I resemble that remark.” Hanako purses her lips indignantly as she turns. “So what say we go make a few good memories, Hisao?”
“Do I take it you’re finally going to take a run at Akio? I know you always had a crush on him.” I tease my friend, joining her at the top of the stairs. Her wide-eye blush tells me I’m right on the money.
“D-d-don’t you dare try to set me up with th-that j-jackass!”
“Methinks the lady protests too much… I seem to recall you saying he made you laugh.” I shrug as I begin to descend the stairs. Hanako slinks a step behind me, staring daggers. We reach the bottom of the stairs and share a laugh.
“You’re in my shot.” My laughter dies as my blood runs cold. A familiar voice with an even more familiar phrase. If my neck could creak as I looked over my shoulder; I’m sure it would.
“Oh, s-sorry!” I mutter, stepping behind Misaki, out of her line of sight. Hanako gestures toward Misaki with her head as she mixes-in with the crowd and disappears. I watch Misaki go about her work and see the hallmarks of her process, including how she tilts the camera for more dynamic angles.
I look out at the crowd, at all these masked strangers and then back at a woman that I was very close to a long time ago. It feels wrong to wear a mask with her, even if she doesn’t recognise the face beneath it. I remove the crimson mask from my face, rubbing the indents where the elastic pressed into my flesh, and step towards Misaki.
“So what’s a dutch angle doing for the crowd tonight?” I ask, a neutral but curious expression on my face as Misaki looks down at me from the third step of the stairs I just descended. Her face tilts ever-so slightly at my bare face before returning to looking through her viewfinder.
“Hm? Oh, not much, but static crowd shots can be real boring. Wanted to offer something a little different to the client.” Misaki answers. “Know much about photography?”
“Not really, I just remember a few terms someone taught me at school. I know it’s not as easy as point-and-shoot with you photography types. It’s all about the process.” I say, knowing full well that I’m using her own words. I don’t know what I hope to accomplish by invoking the past but a small part of me hopes that she’ll recognise me or maybe someone else at the very least.
“Yeah, the process. Hm.” She lowers the camera for a second, a small look of contemplation on her face as she looks at the screen on the back of her camera. She looks at me again, with the scrutinising gaze I recognise before her eyes widen a little. Does she…
“Sorry, mister, I didn’t realise it was you. You feeling better now?”
“I am, thank you.” I look down with a bitter smile. “I think the mask was on too tight.”
“It’s why I declined to wear one. I don’t like feeling… Confined.” Misaki admits, rolling her shoulders a little. She gestures with her camera toward the other side of the room with a brilliant smile. “Anyway, glad you’re feeling better but I need to crack on with the assignment.”
“Of course, sorry to take up so much of your time.” I hold my hands up and take a step back. I slip my crimson mask back on with a resigned sigh. “Nice meeting you, Shutterbug.”
As I blend into the crowd, I watch as her enthusiastic smile doesn’t fade. I’m glad for that, if nothing else. Regardless if she doesn’t remember me; Misaki is, and always will be, Misaki.
And that’s the memory that truly matters.
No, I'm not stealing Feurox's work; I did actually write this piece in an attempt to emulate Feurox's style and he did much the same with his story The Universe In Ecstatic Motion, According to Emi Ibarazaki which I posted as Ecstasy in Motion. Hope you enjoyed both stories and our little New Years ruse 
As for Akio and Hisao's interactions... Well, let's call this a beta test.
While I will often use those characters, it's not always a Myth story lol