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“H-Hisao?...”

Her soft calling sweetens my smile for her, as I turn to find her behind me, warmly waiting for me in the snow... in the shadows of a frozen forest.

“Iwanako..” I whisper...


My heavy eyes open – The winter dream fades. I have no choice of view, but the view of my small crappy room, and no choice but to heed, the screeching alarm clock that keeps mocking me; 'Wake up.'

I get up and shut it off. The warm futon is a mess behind me, and my cheap rented room is lit colder than a prison. – Another day still alive, another day to go to work, at a store run by an idiot.. or study at a third-rate university, and slowly notice the hours lost.. before my early death at thirty years.

I stagger or limp to my small table. I don't even need to think anymore, as I reach for my row of pills, the medications that extend time. Not endlessly, but not enough either. A bitter, lifeless routine. The distasteful, nauseating rhythm of carrying a messed-up heart..

..all the way to the bitter end.


'What day is it?' I flip open my phone to check. – 'Friday, March 11'. Oh right, it's my day off. Good, whatever.

I take my time to freshen up, feeling the sun begin to shine brightly. I notice again that my bathroom is still dirty, and needs some good cleaning...

After a leisurely breakfast of boiled water and lousy instant noodles, I go straight back to bed, letting my tired self collapse onto the futon, content to just sleep... and even if I don't sleep, or can't thanks to the pills, I.. I just want to lie down..... and just not think anymore.

I don't want to think about it.

“I won't live past thirty...” no, I don't want to think about that.. I'm tired.

I don't want to know that anymore, I don't care. I just go through my life, one day after another... not thinking about dying when I become thirty, and yet... not truly living before it, either...

Some dark weight presses over my thoughts.. blocking out the sun, as I close my eyes...


The hospital window.. the outside is a cold winter... brightly shining into the room, until everything around me, even Iwanako beside me... becomes just a shadow, silently crying beside me.

This part again... I don't ever remember saying anything, but every time in my dreams... in this long moment together, at this last moment we shared... I told her something..

I told my beloved something with my cruel silence.

“I won't live past thirty...” I thought to myself, over and over again. I never even looked at her, I just kept watching the soundless snow outside the window. “I won't live long enough.. I won't be happy, ..I can't. – Why do you try so hard, Iwanako? Why bother?”

Why don't you just leave?

But she stayed... she stayed beside me. She stayed true to me, she stayed patiently. She stayed until her heart gave out. And then, with one final kiss that she never gave, she left me, politely, and said farewell.

I looked away from the winter outside the window, suddenly yearning to hear her voice again, seemingly for the first time once more, but she quietly closed the door, and left me evermore.


My saddened eyes open... the winter dream fades. I have no choice in life, no choice but to let her go, to hurt both of us forever, in a long, sorrowful moment.. rather than let her hurt forever, for a few brief, cheerful moments...

I'm sorry...


It takes me a while, before I notice it, but something is happening outside.. I pick up my phone to check the time – it's late.

There are sirens blaring in the distance... that's odd.

I get up to take a look out the window, but my phone startles me ringing in my hand..

“Hello?”

“H-Hisao?...”

A soft voice.. as I suddenly remember her smile, smiling warmly to me in the snow, in the beauty of a frozen forest..

“Iwanako..” I whisper...

“Hisao... I.. I just..”

“What is it?”

“Don't be afraid to live...”


“I-Iwanako?”

“Don't give up-”

The call cuts away... the line is suddenly broken.

I frantically try to call her back, but there's something wrong, the signal won't go through, 'Busy', 'Service not available'.

I don't get it, why can't I call her? Why? I don't understand! Why did she call? What happened-


Miraculously... a text message quietly comes through..


“Remember me”

Oh wow. Up until the sirens I was feeling the feel train. Then I just got confused.

Did Iwanako just commit seppuku or something?
What was her reasoning?
Why does she have Hisao's phone number?
How does she come to the conclusion that he needs to be called?
Why him?

Don't get me wrong, I like it, but it raises questions it can't answer.

Mournful3ch0 wrote:Oh wow. Up until the sirens I was feeling the feel train. Then I just got confused.

Did Iwanako just commit seppuku or something?
What was her reasoning?
Why does she have Hisao's phone number?
How does she come to the conclusion that he needs to be called?
Why him?

Don't get me wrong, I like it, but it raises questions it can't answer.

My guess is that she was at the top of a building, the sirens were the police/ambulance at the bottom trying to talk her out of it. Also I assume she just used a phone book before she went up there. As to why I have no guess

Mournful3ch0 wrote:Oh wow. Up until the sirens I was feeling the feel train. Then I just got confused.

I was kinda the opposite, I didn't get much from the story until then (then again, I'm really tired).
I'm not 100% convinced this is suicide, actually. Could well be something else, much as that would detract from the romanticism of it.

"Don't be afraid to live..." I like it.

This was the first fan fiction I've read in a while.

Pretty bummer way to start reading again.

Slowly turning the cold metal fork over my food, my numb thoughts start spinning the thread of doubt; 'maybe this is all a bad idea..'

But I'm already here, alone.. waiting, at a table in the midst of lonely shadows.. reserved in the Shanghai teahouse. – A cosy, familiar enough place, apparently familiar to most of us, and close enough to Yamaku Academy that an unofficial, “five years later”-reunion doesn't seem out of place, ...nor ill-timed.

“It's just a little get-together gathering,” I whisper to myself, “to see each other again, after what happened last year..”

I take a slow, deep breath, and swallow another slice. Focusing on why we're here-

“Anybody ho-” says suddenly a strangely-dressed.. person, with short auburn hair and wearing a strange, colourful suit. Strangely interrupted mid-sentence when.. she? -She, noticed me at the table, with a morsel stuck on my gleaming fork, and my gaping mouth before it...

She blinks her dark green eyes a few times, and I blink mine. – She tilts her head quizzically, immediately reminding me who she is under that boyish haircut.

“Rin!” I call out to her, but she doesn't... react. – She just keeps staring at me. Or through me. – I decide to just put down my fork, and quietly walk over to her.

“Rin..” I call her again, absentmindedly offering my hand to her to guide her in. “Hello! Hisao!” Suddenly she speaks up and startles me, “Where have you been, Hisao? How have you been, Hisao? It's been a while! I haven't been having lunch since five years ago!”

I'm not sure if I heard her right, but- “Hisao!” she calls out my name again, with a big smile that doesn't seem real...

“Err.. Hello, Rin.” I greet her warmly, “It's good to see you again.”

Her big smile slowly fades..

After a long pause, she decides to just quietly bow her head, and I return her gesture politely.

Together.. we walk back to the table.

I put aside my food as Rin starts sharing an almost-normal conversation with me. She talks at length about stumbling in and out of business with her art, often painfully.

“Painting is expensive.” She says summarily, “You need to buy a lot of things to paint one thing, but you don't know how many times you have to paint the thing, until they would like the thing enough to call it something, and then like it some more to buy it. And if they don't buy, you have to starve for the whole day, while finishing that something you've been trying to finish before you're finished. – I think I've been painting very realistic-looking food lately.” She looks hungrily at my food, then.. dissuading herself, she continues, “Making something costs a lot, selling it costs a lot.” She suddenly looks up and stares ahead... and blinks, “I don't like selling myself.”

I almost say something before she- “But I live true to every colour of life.” She softly affirms herself.. “And keep painting.”

I think I'm smiling a small smile of admiration..

I politely ask if she would like to have a quick bite before everyone else arrives (impolite as it is), and she points out that I've already ordered something anyway. – I lower my head in embarrassment and apology, even though we both could give a tiny chuckle at my own expense.

I politely leave Rin at the table, noticing her gaze starting to pierce into the bland tablecloth as I make my way to the counter.

I order the most filling meal (within reason) for her, and on my way back to the table, I start to remember Rin as I first knew her, from when her babble was far less coherent, and far more charming.

“You won't paint a vibrant life if you stick to only black and white.” I try to imitate her speech in my head, “not unless you think film noir suits you.” I smile to myself again, before gently colliding into someone.

“Hey, watch where you're going!” The small woman in sweater and jeans yells out, whipping her head up to stare at me.

“Emi?” I ask completely surprised.

“Hisao!” The fierceness disappears from her eyes, and she looks like she could just jump up and hug me, “It's so good to see you!”

Her combed, shoulder-length hair is pleasingly fragrant, and her smile is brighter than I could remember. We share some warm talk with each other, before I mention Rin who's still seated and staring at the tablecloth.

“Rin!” She runs over to her favourite former-dorm neighbour and almost tackles Rin out of the chair with her enthusiastic hug.

I walk over to them, casually saying that it's just like old times.

“No. It's not.” Rin corrects me as Emi loudly drags a seat closer to Rin.

“No? How so?” I ask smiling, as Emi takes her seat and suddenly notices my unfinished food. – She steals a slice with her bare fingers. Then another.

“You didn't talk much, I think,” Rin wonders aloud, ignoring Emi chewing and taking another slice to feed to Rin.

“Of course I did,” I answer and start taking back the food that is rightfully mine. – Just as I do, Emi quickly slaps the back of my hand.

“No, you looked very grim back then. – You were hopeless.”

Rin delivered her words directly, making me stop dead in my motions.

“No.. I...” I stammer, and look to Emi, but even Emi's eyes seem to be saying it too..

“Maybe I was a little... distraught... I guess.” I answer, trying not to mind it so much.

We ignore it in silence, and let it pass.

After Rin's order was brought to the table, Emi breaks the silence and starts asking what we've been doing with our lives. Rin gives me a gaze before answering, almost-coherently talking about her “art businesses” that Emi feigns fascination for, yet fools no one.

I listen to them catch up with each other, feeling unsure about myself and what I've been doing lately...

Rin has been enduring hard times on her own, trying to stay isolated (or 'independent' as she says) for the sake of improving her painting. The old art teacher, apparently, really pushed for her in the beginning, striving to make her name famous. Now, she's just pushing herself to survive.

Emi took up running as a career, with sponsorship difficult to secure at first. She thought about becoming a trainer or a coach before, or even a nutritionist if she had to, but she's so glad she never did. – Last year though, she took a break from running... and she's suddenly asking me to talk about myself.

“Err..”

“Come on, Hisao, you went to university, right?” Emi encourages me.

“Yeah.. I did.” I begin, “I...”

The moment becomes long and silent.

“I... was..”

I feel the struggle inside me to say it, I keep forcing myself to tell them about it, I fight back the pain as it goes out of control.

“Hisao...” Emi gently calls to me.

I slowly lift my gaze up to meet my friends, Emi smiles kindly to me, whispering, “it's okay...”

“I'm sorry..” I almost cry as I struggle to apologise.

“It's not your fault.” Rin tells me, “ I don't think it is.”

I nod politely... not sure how I've suddenly become so... “lost”.. again.

“You know..” Emi smiles saying, “I broke down last year...”

I look to her.

“I couldn't run. After what happened, I felt the world turn so incredibly scary, and I broke down on the starting line, screaming and crying. – I was calling desperately for my dad to come back.”

“Emi..” Rin almost cries reaching to her.

“After a while,” Emi goes on, reassuring Rin with a genuine smile, “when I could walk again, I immediately went hiking, to.. train myself.”

“I kept going, I promised myself that I would, up the slopes, down the most difficult paths. Taking a single step was even more painful than before, and I was so afraid that I kept crying and stumbling...”

Emi looks at me, with determination in her eyes.

“But I'll run again... because I've promised myself that I will.”

“Emi.. I...” my own voice comes through hoarse and wavering.

“Don't worry about it, Hisao.” Emi assures me, and takes another slice, nibbling thoughtfully with a smile.. looking ahead with a light in her eyes...

Someone passes by the window, drawing Rin's gaze for a moment.

“Did someone bring the yearbook?” Suddenly Rin asks.

“Wha-?” Emi asks through a mouthful.

“I.., I did.” I answer, drawing Emi's surprised eyes. – I reach into my bag beside me and.. hesitatingly, take out the poor weathered and deteriorated book.

“Huh..” Emi swallows and utters.

I flip the damaged pages open to Rin and Emi's class, respectfully resting it on the table for them.

“What happened to it?” Rin asks carefully.. and wistfully.

“Rain.” I lie to her.

Rin gazes sadly at the book... then tries to say something to me... before-

“H-H-Hello?” A new voice meekly asks.

We turn towards her, the tall woman making her way to us.

Wearing rather fashionable clothes with a nice hat, and sporting a stylish short haircut that drapes mysteriously over half of her face, she smiles and softly greets us once more.

“H-Hello..”

“Hanako!” Emi jumps up and hugs her, squeezing her tightly in her embrace. – Hanako looks equal parts happy and terrified.

After a somewhat awkward moment, Hanako again bows and greets each of us, before timidly letting Emi seat her down at the table.

“Order whatever you like, Hanako!” Emi excitedly tells her, “It's free!”

...wait, what?

“It's not!” I correct her, rightly so. “I paid for all this!”

“Oh..!” Emi exclaims with her mouth agape, while Rin and Hanako too regard me with great surprise..

Although Emi still somehow coaxed Hanako to express desire for a steaming pot of tea, “to go with the food”, and capitalise on my inability to refuse her request. – I'll get you back for this, Emi.


By the time the tea has been brewed and brought to our table, Hanako (surprisingly) has started telling us all about the things she did since graduation. (Where Emi has since grown into a wonderful criminal mastermind)

“A-After graduation, I-I rented a small room, near Yamaku..”

“I took.. I took some time, to- to buy books and.. and the ingredients, a-and learn how to cook m-more.. challenging dishes.”

“B-b-but.. I-I.. was not good at it, s-still.”

Emi feeds Rin another slice before looking back at Hanako, listening and nodding empathically.

“S-So I tr-tried s-s-something else... ph-photography..”

“My employer liked m-my pictures, more than all th-the things I w-wrote and submitted.”

“He h-hired me full-time, to find and take all kinds of nice an-and interesting pictures. And sometimes he.. he sends me overseas and makes me photograph people in.. in difficult places.”

“Difficult places?” I wonder.

“Where b-bad things happened..” Hanako answers out of regret.

“You mean like...” Emi asks.. sadly, “you mean like March 11?”

Hanako nods..


After silence, and some warm tea, Emi asks Hanako if she ever felt.. afraid.

“N-no..”

“B-Because I want to help them... my employer uses m-my pictures to draw donations for the relief efforts, I.. I...”

“I'm not the only one struggling...”


In our silence, as I take another sip of warm tea, I think I hear someone knock on the door. – We all turn to look as a meek “Hello..?” is voiced.

A tall solitary figure, with long wavy-blonde hair flowing free in the light, she seems nothing less than a visiting angel upon this fair earth.

“Lilly!” Emi cries, Hanako's teacup trembles in her hand.

After a moment, a kind smile beams from Lilly's face, “Emi, is that you?” She asks softly and politely.

“Yup.. Rin is here too, and Hisao, and...” Emi has already left the table to greet Lilly before noticing that.. Hanako is staying shivering in her seat.

“..Hanako?” Emi whispers..

“Hanako is... here?” Lilly's smile disappears into a tense shock, though she composes herself quickly.

Gracefully, Lilly comes closer with Emi, but doesn't approach close enough, before Lilly calls out to Hanako..

“Hanako... I need to tell you..”

“No!” Hanako shouts and quickly stands, holding herself as she trembles.

“Lilly..” Hanako whispers.. turning around to face her, “Lilly... don't apologise.”

“It was me.. Lilly... it was my fault. – I shouted at you.. I said I hated you... But nothing was further than the truth.”

“It was my fault that I never apologised... it was me who pushed you so far away...”

“...it was me who hurt you.”

Lilly comes closer, just close enough... to rest her fingertips upon Hanako's face, and warmly catch her tears.

“In that case, Hanako... I forgive you.”


With another fresh pot of tea to go well with warm words and warmer smiles around the table, all of us listen patiently while Lilly goes on about her life since graduation, studying to become a full-time language teacher in Scotland.

It's a long tale, filled with many stories of young people like us, with good hearts and good friends, learning to live in the shadows of grief and sorrow... living to learn the light of striving and friendship.

“There is always hope when you reach for it.”

And Lilly is right... she is absolutely right.

With a warm cup of good tea in my hands, in the company of all my good friends... Iwanako.. I remember you... – Here's to you.


I finish my warm cup of tea before I hear Lilly ask something curious.

“..I thought the reunion comes ten years after graduation.”

“I think it does,” Rin answers concernedly, “but Hisao couldn't wait for another five years..”

“What?” I ask, a little bit confused.

“What?” Rin answers questioningly.

“What do you mean?” Emi asks her eloquent dorm neighbour.

“I-I thought.. Hisao was the one wh-who paid for everything, an-and asked us all to come?” Hanako asks curiously.

“What? No, I paid for the food and the tea.. thanks to Emi... but I didn't reserve the table.”

“You didn't?” Lilly asks daintily as a dame.

“No, I swear.” I quickly assert, and start remembering that message I received, asking me to attend this five-year reunion at the Shanghai.

“I think I might know who the mastermind is...” Lilly hints knowingly.

“Emi.” I blurt out.

“What? No!” Emi smiles as she exclaims.

Suddenly, two people quietly pass by the window, catching Rin's gaze.

“Wh-who is the mastermind?” Hanako asks, looking around the table.

“There can only be one...” Lilly answers with measured delight.

“Hellooooo?” A rather loud voice comes from the door, with two familiar figures slowly coming through...

“Is anybody home~?..

...Wahahahahah~!”

Thank you for your posts, Mournful3ch0, monkeywitha6pack, Craftyatom and KeiichiO.

monkeywitha6pack wrote:

Mournful3ch0 wrote:Oh wow. Up until the sirens I was feeling the feel train. Then I just got confused.

Did Iwanako just commit seppuku or something?
What was her reasoning?
Why does she have Hisao's phone number?
How does she come to the conclusion that he needs to be called?
Why him?

Don't get me wrong, I like it, but it raises questions it can't answer.

My guess is that she was at the top of a building, the sirens were the police/ambulance at the bottom trying to talk her out of it. Also I assume she just used a phone book before she went up there. As to why I have no guess

Not suicide
She wanted to talk to him one last time
She already had Hisao's address at Yamaku to begin with
She remembers the way he was and never forgot
Because the above

Craftyatom wrote:

Mournful3ch0 wrote:Oh wow. Up until the sirens I was feeling the feel train. Then I just got confused.

I was kinda the opposite, I didn't get much from the story until then (then again, I'm really tired).
I'm not 100% convinced this is suicide, actually. Could well be something else, much as that would detract from the romanticism of it.

"Don't be afraid to live..." I like it.

Your guess is correct.

Thank you.

KeiichiO wrote:This was the first fan fiction I've read in a while.

Pretty bummer way to start reading again.

Sorry. I hope the new posts are better.


Thank you.

In the dim... I sit alone. Listening to a soft humming sound the plane makes, as it flies through the cold of night outside.

The walkway between the passenger seats is dotted with warm yellow lights, bright enough that sleeping or weary faces can be seen. – One of them is reading a worn 'Vanquisher' comic, the other is asleep, with an 'Arctic Gale' paperback novel still open in his hands.

In gentle amusement, a small smile comes to me, but I turn my head and look out the window; pitch black night rushes endlessly by, whistling fleeting wisps of white over the wing-tip, all muted from beyond the window. – Upon the glass, my own reflection looks out and back at me... a woman with half her face mysteriously hidden, wearing a nice hat and a short hair cut. Her eyes are ghostly amethysts lost in the night, and in curiosity, they gaze and wonder who I am.

I look down at my ID tag, at the bright red-and-white plastic card hanging from my neck. Written beside a small picture of me, in both Japanese and English: “Hanako Ikezawa – Public Press”.

“A photographer”, I whisper to myself.

My camera is still in my hands. I'm used to its weight and bulk by now, ..yet, somehow, it can still feel heavy as I lift up the display; the memories its captured are not easily carried.

My thumb press on the 'right-arrow' button, flicking fast the vivid images scrolling through the digital gallery, and my thoughts return to a memory... from a long time ago.....

* * *

He flips through my portfolio, hurriedly and impatiently. I sit shivering in my seat, holding my fear back from showing.

There is the smell of old coffee cups and ash trays full of used cigarettes, thick and mixed in the air. I notice and stare at a stack of outdated tacky calendars, with lucid images of girls in skimpy maid outfits plastered all over them; “Miss Cat-Girl” is seductively representing last August. ...She reminds me of Yuuko somehow.

He suddenly stops flicking through my pictures, pausing and gazing hard at one of them, before his rough fingers slide along the edge of the page, and picking up his pace, he again quickly flips through. – The one he was staring at just now... it's of Yamaku Academy, the beautiful place I graduated from... it's surrounded by peaceful scenery and wonderful people... I thought... I thought to take pictures there, memories of a home I knew... and then, included them in my portfolio... ..maybe I felt like I... wanted to share them.. somehow...

He suddenly slams shut my portfolio, the loud smack seizes up my mind as I tremble in electrifying cold. – He smiles his scruffy smile at me, and enthusiastically says “Miss Ikezawa, you're hired!”

I gape for a moment... before I smile with heartfelt relief and misty eyes, and abashedly dab away the tears.

* * *

My employer is a very eager and.. somewhat-strange person. He's always excited about receiving new batches of photos to review, and always encourages me to try and experiment with new techniques and approaches. He congratulated me on choosing the camera model he recommended, and likes to give me long, passionate, motivational talks on how to improve performance in the studio, or how to improvise out in the field. – But.. I only constantly feel deeper and deeper obligation to meet his standards.

It hurts deeper still, when he would call me into his office, and have me listen to him as he reviews each one of my photos. He can get very critical and dissatisfied, complaining about the angle and the lighting, saying this one lacks “life” and that one lacks “heart”. Sometimes, he even makes me retake the whole batch.

Resentment burns inside sometimes, but.. I don't let it fill me.

I try to live up to his standards, learning and studying whenever I'm not at work. I toy and fiddle with aperture science, tweaking the settings to create the optimum outdoor photograph, or waiting patiently in the night to master each long-exposure shot.

Shutter-speed control is still my worst skill, I can never do a proper take of fluttering pigeons in the park, or capture falling petals dancing in the air; always to my employer's eyes, I would capture too much blur and motion, or cause too many duplicates of the same moment. – I just can't achieve what he wants...

I'm constantly frustrated... but I don't give up.

* * *

Early in the office, while working on my cheap computer, rushing to meticulously finish a touch-up job on a calendar set, the door comes crashing open, my employer barges in all of a sudden, and startles me enough that I accidentally ruin Miss Cat-Girl's face. – “Ikezawa! We have an emergency!”

He needs someone overseas immediately, there's a terrible disaster unfolding... his usual photographer who handles such things had quit, and I'm the only one available...

“Can you do it, Ikezawa? Can you handle it?”


I think hard for a moment, for a long, long moment.


“Yes sir... I-I'll.. I'll do it.”

* * *

Before I know it, I'm on a landing plane... touching down rudely on the tarmac, amidst the distress at a busy airport...

I disembark with the reporters and researchers and seismologists and other important people, and immediately follow the headlines.

Virtually no lives had been taken, but many historic landmarks were heavily damaged, and the quake devastated so many houses and buildings where people had lived and worked their entire lives.

I start photographing the ruined buildings one-by-one, snapping my camera at the extensive damage, photographing livelihoods and history that had become rubble. I let my camera frame the disaster into still pictures.

I try to find my way on foot, or hitch-hike whenever I can, pointing to places on my map or explain with newspaper articles so the locals could understand.

They are remarkably good people, most of them would try and help me, and ignore my appearances. They often guide me to where transport is available, and inform me of any schedule that will help me move faster, or advice me on where to find food and water and basic necessities.

Despite their own difficulties and troubles, they freely gave me their help and their smiles, as brightly as they could, under the grey sky hanging over their sorrows.

* * *

My employer looks through the printed photographs... documenting in detail the effects of the disaster. – He looks at each one with an analytical frown.

“Ikezawa...”

“Y-yes sir?”

“I asked you to photograph the disaster, not bring back dreary shots of broken architecture,”

“...what?”

“We could sell these to scientific journals, sure, but that's not why I thought to send you there.”

“I don't.. I don't u-understand, what's wrong with what I've photographed?”

“Nothing, mostly. But they don't speak to me.”

“Th.. th.. th-they don't-?”

“No.”

Grief and memory of walking through the disaster come welling up in my eyes, echoing something in the distant past of my own life, while I search deeply for a voice to give to sorrow and loss.

“I-I'm sorry... sir...”

* * *

Late after sunset, I sit alone on the floor at home, on a cold, shadowy February day.

I pore over photography magazines and books, trying to understand the mechanics of light. My thoughts become lost in the pages.

A dog barks outside...

“It's dusk...” ..the world around me is preparing for the night.


My bathroom illuminates under incandescence flashing into a white endless flare, starkly showing a lonely girl lost behind the mirror glass. Starved and haunted, her head moves, a hand of scars lifts, pulling the half-curtain of long dark hair away, a red river of dead skin flows from head 'till neck.

I press my palm against my face.... “numb, underneath rough”.

“My hair is too long”, I repeat my employer's words.

A pair of scissors gleams itself waiting, for my fingers that gently pick it up, and slowly raise it closer...


One neat snip.


The lonely girl in the mirror smiles, her head higher without a shadow weight, her fingers brush the mysterious dark leaf, still shyly hiding away her lovely red cheek.

* * *

After a warm shower and a delicious home-cooked meal, I hum a little tune I once heard.. through raindrops and puddles... Turning on my tv, I wonder with a smile where I've heard it before, and take a comfortable seat on my beanbag.

The news is still on; reporting about... another quake, devastating the city I visited... the garden city that I photographed and cried for... ..there are lives lost...


I call my employer.

I tell him I want to go back there, and take the right pictures that they need.

“To draw attention to their plight for donations, Ikezawa? You sure you-”

“To remember, and to honour... and to have hope for.”



Credits:







http://www.archdaily.com/413224/shigeru ... w-zealand/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Wizar ... church.JPG
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Chris ... _wheel.jpg

http://www.quakestories.govt.nz/298/story/


Author's Notes: This should be my last KS fanfic. Whether I've improved in a year and a half or not, writing stuff based on KS, I don't know. (probably not, actually) But I'm moving on. I probably won't write anymore KS, so, feel free to criticise and tear this thing to pieces. I kind of would welcome it, in fact. Sort of.

LordDarknus wrote:I probably won't write anymore KS, so, feel free to criticise and tear this thing to pieces. I kind of would welcome it, in fact. Sort of.

Well prepare to be disappointed, because I quite enjoyed your way with words, especially when Hanako thinks to herself. You seem to have a knack for making a moment feel very alive and real, and I like it.

Best of luck.

Craftyatom wrote:

LordDarknus wrote:I probably won't write anymore KS, so, feel free to criticise and tear this thing to pieces. I kind of would welcome it, in fact. Sort of.

Well prepare to be disappointed, because I quite enjoyed your way with words, especially when Hanako thinks to herself. You seem to have a knack for making a moment feel very alive and real, and I like it.

Best of luck.

Thanks Craftyatom. Best of luck to you too, with whatever you're putting your mind to.