Chapter One: A Requiem of Remembrance

214 5 1
                                    

A Sonata of Solitude

Far-called, our navies melt away;
On dune and headland sinks the fire:
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!

--Rudyard Kipling, Recessional

Chapter One:
A Requiem of Remembrance

I thought I had forgotten you.

I thought those days we spent together laughing and learning, those days you scolded me, those days we fought and screamed and made-up, were nothing more than a long-since drowned memory. Your scowl, your determination, all that you were -- I thought those things were as dust in the winds of time, swept away. That all we had shared, and all we had dreamed of, amounted to nothing more than a stray thought, floating, suspended in the serene lily-strewn pond of my memories.

I thought I had forgotten every piece of what you were.

Yet somehow, the thought of you forgetting me never crossed my mind.

I still remember it now. That day, when everything had come to a halt, and we had been called together. Twenty of us in the staff room during the lunch hour, summoned for a meeting of unknown purpose. Tittering, unsure, confused.

Then... you.

In the principal's wake, a scarce pace behind, was you. Like a ghost, you had walked into the room, silent. A blazer, a shirt, your dark hair hanging in messy strands over your face, a structured mess -- or was it chaotic order?

At first, I hadn't recognized you. It had been so long... and you were different. The boy I had once known, with his narrow face, slim shoulders, and studious demeanour had vanished. In his place stood a man -- his shoulders filled out, his jaw stronger. A trace of stubble, hurriedly shaved, swiftly forgotten.

I didn't know you.

We had all grown silent with your entry, unsure of what to expect. What was coming. With our attention having been gathered, the principal had introduced you -- but I didn't believe. Couldn't believe it could be you.

Not after all those years.

Uesugi Fuutarou.

You had shuffled around the room, slowly introduced to person after person after person. Co-workers. Companions in arms. Strangers. When my turn finally arrived, as you were brought before me once again, I was trembling.

I still remember that shaking, subtle and yet total in its coverage, the uncertainty and the unconscious fear driving my body as a strong wind drives waves at sea.

Anticipation.

Nakano Itsuki-sensei.

My name was said, you bowed politely, and I could feel it, achingly deep in my bones.

The indifferent coldness of meeting a complete stranger for the first time.

A shiver had gone up my spine as you turned away, leaving to approach the next person. A foreign element. An unspoken fear. Perhaps that was what compelled me.

"Uesugi-kun..."

You had turned back, just for a moment.

A hint of recognition. A hope of reconnection. Of reclaiming what we once--

No. No, that was wrong.

Ice.

Indifference.

A pure and undiluted strain of apathy.

A Sonata of SolitudeWhere stories live. Discover now