The restaurant she'd chosen was a comfortable Italian one at the more expensive end of the scale, one she'd frequently visited.
"The alla pastora there is exquisite." She'd mentioned over the phone when she called earlier that day. Tsukuru had never been the kind to fuss over what to wear and he'd already decided to don the Burberry suit his sisters had gotten him for his 28th birthday, tailored surprisingly well to fit his frame. He did however have some doubt as to whether or not to wear the blue tie that was Sara's first gift to him. Would it come across as desperate? He had instead decided to go with a clean, simple black one, but just as he crossed the threshold of his front door, he realised that wearing anything other than that blue tie would, for some inexplicable cosmic reason, be unacceptable. Like a gambler going all in, there was no point saving one last chip.
Besides, for better or worse, after tonight, the sentimental value of the tie would no doubt multiply exponentially. Either as a flag billowing in the mountain gale, marking his triumphant ascent on the summit, or the last steel piton hammered into the sheer cliff-side that was only almost enough to keep him from plummeting into the abyss.
He arrived on time, and a Eurasian water received him warmly. "Ah, Mr Tazaki," he beamed, scanning through the restaurant's reservation book. "This way please." The waiter escorted him to his place at the window-seat table she'd reserved. Surveying the restaurant, he basked in the classy, romantic ambience, his olfactory senses rejuvenated by the smells of fresh pasta and lavender scented candles. The waiter propped down the two menus on the table, and reached to unfold the folded cloth napkin for him. Tsukuru raised his hand, motioning for him to stop. Someone had skillfully, intricately folded it, with deft fingers, into an unfamiliar shape which was as elegant as it was mysterious, a most unusual combination which blended particularly well. Like the cotton clouds in the Finnish countryside, one could have called it a dozen different shapes and all of them would have fit. It made him think of Eri and her pottery. Lumps of molten clay transformed and sculpted into works of art, vessels which, although empty, had no want for beauty.
"Let's say you are an empty vessel. So what? What's wrong with that?" Eri's voice returned to his mind. "You're still a wonderful, attractive vessel."
Looking back at the napkin of a dozen shapes lying in his open palms, he decided it would be a painful waste to unmake this work of art it without first taking a few moments to appreciate it as it rightfully deserved.
These few moments of silent admiration ended when Sara walked into the room. It had been only about a week since he had last seen her, and while she was exactly as he remembered at their last meeting, he felt himself catapulted into the very cotton clouds he had been thinking of mere seconds before, floating in a world beyond dreams. He had taken the midnight train away from Tokyo and arrived, it seemed, face to face with a ghost of the past. Except, she wasn't from the past. She was from the present - she was here, at this very moment, where she belonged, where he hoped she wanted to belong. And he hoped even more, more than anything in his life, that she would be his future.
She wore a strapless dress the same deep blue as the tote bag she slung over her right arm, it's folds falling like caresses over svelte frame. An elegant silver necklace hung delicately around her long, slender neck, tracing a subtle yet alluring arc down the peach snowskin of her chest. Tsukuru rose to remove the black, faux mink fur coat that hid the rest of her body,and she let him. As he slid the coat from her shoulders, he was awashed in the misty haze of her Elizabeth Arden perfume and her scent sent his mind into a whirl. He pictured the last time he had undressed her; his nose, his lips, nuzzled against the light of her skin. He wondered if he would ever behold her in her perfect, naked form again.
"Sorry I'm late," Sara gave a tiny bow of her head.
"Don't worry about it," Tsukuru smiled reassuringly. "Rough day?"
"The roughest," Sara smiled back sheepishly, "Have you been waiting long?"
"Well, I was about this close to ordering first," Tsukuru teased.
"Maybe you should have," she laughed, that same soft and gentle sound that jingled like early Christmas bells. "Then I could pinch your food while I waited for mine."
They settled into their seats, and after a quick look at the menu, called the waiter over. Tsukuru ordered a truffle-based fusilli dish, while Sara ordered the spaghetti alla pastora she had recommended him.
"So," she bit her lip, as if trying to sort her thoughts into words before she said them. "I know you've waited three days already, but first, if it's okay, I want to hear about Finland."
Three days. Which is exactly why I can't wait any more. He thought to himself.
"Sure," he exhaled instead, "Finland. It was beautiful."
Tsukuru went on to recount on his five days on the other side of the world. He told her about Olga, what a warm, welcoming person she was, and how wonderful of a help she had been. He talked about the Finnish railway stations. How they weren't so different from the trains here in Japan, how fiercely proud the denizens of Hameenlinna were about their railway station, the first of its kind in the country. He spoke about the cottage by the lake, how he had gotten lost, and would have stayed that way if not for the old man with the grim face. And then he told her about Eri.
Eri, the high school friend from Nagoya. Eri, the Japanese potter living in Finland. Eri. The girl who had been in love with him. He recounted everything to Sara. How Eri had known of his innocence all along, and her reasons for throwing him under the bus. The details of Shiro's mental condition, pregnancy and miscarriage, and his theory on her subconscious inability to allow the group to disintegrate on its own accord. She knew, like the rest of them all did, that even their harmonious, perfect little circle could not last forever. Rather than to helplessly watch as their union withered like flowers in the fall, she chose to snip off the petals herself. All this he told her, and she listened, enraptured, like an archaeologist chancing upon an ancient mural, absorbing every detail with profound interest and amazement. Whether or not she reciprocated his love, this was a woman who genuinely cared about him and his life; a fact that, as Tsukuru had come to realise, would only make losing her all the more heartbreaking.
It was a long, complex tale to tell, and they had long finished their meal by the time it was told. At their waiter's recommendation they had a ordered a bottle of Dolcetto red wine, and Tsukuru was already almost through his third glass when he decided it was time. Swirling around the last dregs of wine left in the glass, he steeled himself and drained its contents down.
"With Eri and I... we could have had something. Something amazing," he began. "We obviously already had chemistry, and the attraction was mutual. It's just that, for the dumbest of reasons, we never gave ourselves a chance. And just like that, it was gone forever." He tapped his fingers on the smooth white tablecloth.
"That's why I called you. At four in the morning, without a drop of alcohol in my blood."
Make sure you hang on to Sara. You really need her. Eri's voice echoed through the past once more.
His hand glided over the tabletop, seeking hers. Their fingers met, and a thousand volts of electricity jolted through his bloodstream, igniting within him an intense fire he had never known existed, boiling his insides to mush.
"I asked you who that man was, the one I saw you with the other day. And over and over again in my head a hundred scenes would play out in my head, different answers and possibilities that always led to the same outcome. But now, sitting here in front of you I realise I don't even care. I don't care who he is."
"For so long I've been lost in a freezing night sea, with four anchors chained to my feet. I thought I'd escaped the cold water, but I was merely swimming, 30 laps a day, to stay afloat. At times I'd found pieces of driftwood to cling on to, and those kept me going, but I never got out. Then you came along and showed me that the sea wasn't all that terrifying. You taught me to breathe underwater, that if I dived deep enough I could break the chains that were weighing me down. And I have. And I love you for that."
"That's why I am going to build a special station, just for you. It'll have its faults like stations always do but I will fix them. Like I always do. Because that's who I am. And who I am is someone who is completely in love with you." He ended, his last words resonating endlessly in the silence that followed.
A silence all too familiar, a silence he had only ever known. And then she spoke. When her eyes finally rose to meet his, he saw in them two crystal pools of captured starlight, breaking apart and forming again in the shimmering waters of a desert oasis. She blinked, and a single tear escaped, the first dewdrop of melted snow in spring that spoke of promise and renewed hope.
"Tsukuru," she began, "The three days weren't for me." She squeezed his hand, her fingers rubbing gently over his knuckles. "They were for you."
"What do you mean?"
"For me, there was nothing to consider. My choice was made from the start."
Tsukuru looked puzzled but said nothing, waiting with bated breath for her to continue.
"It was you," she smiled, her voice starting to tremble with emotion. "The three days - I needed you to be sure. Of us, I mean. And of how you feel. Because I needed you to be on board with this as much as me."
He had never seen this side of her - he didn't even know it existed. The smart, stoic workaholic was, for the first time, showing her raw, vulnerable side, and Tsukuru knew he was falling love with this new side of her already.
"I am. In fact there is nothing in my life that I've ever been more sure of than you. That's why I brought this, actually."
He pulled the ringbox from his jacket pocket, noticing that his fingers were already shaking.
"Marry me," he managed to say. The stunned look on her face showed her shock and disbelief, and for a while she only stared, wide-eyed and open mouthed, her gaze shifting between him and the sparkling silver band he held between his fingertips. "You didn't even know that I was going to stay or leave but you still-"
"I love you," he cut her off. "I'll say it, over and over again, a million times until you believe me."
He didn't need to. She held out her hand and let him slide the ring over her finger. They stood up, and her cheeks flushed to the bright pink of cherry blossoms as all eyes fell upon them. The restaurant broke into applause, but Tsukuru could barely hear the faintest sound of their clapping, through a glass bubble that enveloped him and Sara and kept the world a million lightyears away. There was no restaurant. There was no crowd. There was no Eri, no Shiro, no Ao and no Aka. There was no other man.
In that moment, there existed only the two of them, in a tiny crystal ball that formed the centre of the Galaxy, around which all the planets, even the ones still undiscovered, orbited. Her - Sara, the woman who had pulled him from the ocean depths. And him - Colourless Tsukuru Tazaki, who had never been colourless at all.