A Hanadan Carol, Part 1

“For the five HUNDREDTH time, I do not know that crazy girl!” Tsukasa roared, knocking a vase of carefully arranged flowers from their perch beside his bed. The vase shattered with a loud crash, and Soujirou jumped away in alarm. He shook his head sadly.

“At this rate Tsukasa will be doing more than just forgetting Makino,” Soujirou whispered to Akira, who was leaning against the wall beside him. “He’s going to develop a complex against her.”

“But what can we do?” Akira responded, his eyes dark with disappointment. “Tsukasa’s so pigheaded, if we don’t push her on him he’ll be perfectly happy to just go on living his life without her.”

“He has to want to remember,” Soujirou conceded. “And I don’t think we can convince him to do that.”

“And with Christmas coming and everything. Makino’s got to be miserable.”

“Rui’s got the patience of a saint to stick by her.”

“Would you two stop standing there and whispering right in front of me!?” Tsukasa bellowed, interrupting the pair’s consultation. “I’m not a THING, you know!”

Soujirou sighed. “Look, Tsukasa,” he said, raising both hands palms-forward in a display of acquiescence. “We just want you to try and remember Makino. She was very important to you.”

“IS very important,” Akira chimed in.

“Like hell!” Tsukasa spat. The two boys shivered in unison.

“Can’t you at least try!?” Soujirou said, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance. Akira glanced uneasily at his friend, fearing another explosion of temper.

Tsukasa seemed to calm for a moment, and Soujirou and Akira leaned forward hopefully. “Even if she was,” Tsukasa said, the beginnings of a grin twitching at his lips as he looked down at the bedsheets, “even if she was my girlfriend or whatever…”

“She was!” burst out Soujirou, before Akira nudged him into quiet.

Then Tsukasa’s gaze flew upwards, and the two gasped. The grin they’d staked their hopes on was one of maniacal rage, and blood vessels stood ready to pop on Tsukasa’s forehead as he scowled. “…Even if she was, the wench HIT me!!” His voice rose to fever pitch. “I don’t want anything to do with that goddamned violent girl!! Don’t mention her name to me again!!”

“But… Tsukasa!!” Soujirou was cringing as though fearing an onslaught of pillows, but still he tried.

“No ‘But Tsukasa’s!” raged his livid friend. “Get out!”

“Y.. yeah! You got it!” Akira pulled Soujirou out of the range of fire and pushed him out the door. “Sorry to bother you, Tsukasa!” he grinned shakily as he withdrew. “Merry Christmas!”

“BAH!” came the enraged snarl as Akira and Soujirou ran for their lives.

A Hanadan Carol, Part 2

“Tsukushi?” Tsukasa repeated the name. It sounded unfamiliar rolling off his tongue, the name that everyone wanted him to remember. The name that was the last word off that ghostly Shigeru’s lips before she faded into a patch of golden haze. Tsukasa was sure he was dreaming. But the cold draft coming in through his window, the muted clatter below him on the fourth floor… these were too real. He shook his head violently, as though trying to throw off the clinging memories of the last few moments. It failed. He repeated again. “Tsu.. kushi…”

“Yeah, that’s right,” said a tenor male voice from behind him. “Tsukushi-chan. Of course, you called her Makino.”

A Hanadan Carol, Part 3

Things were getting far too creepy for Tsukasa. Determined more than ever to block out all thoughts of mysterious girls and disappearing ghosts, he flopped on the bed and shut his eyes purposefully. He would sleep, and this time he wouldn’t have any more strange dreams. He scowled.

He WOULD ignore that shadow that was looming over his bed now.

A Hanadan Carol, Part 4

He was ready this time. Tsukasa knew the pattern now – the ghost would make some sort of foolish comment and appear, looking sunny as can be, somewhere in his room. So Tsukasa just waited. He sat stock still on his bed, thoughts running madly through his head, but body unmoving. Waiting. And feeling.

A Hanadan Carol, Part 5

Dimness. A dull gray dot of consciousness buried in waves of oblivion. An existence trapped in a shell, thrown far away, far back into a void. Forgotten.

But with a gleam, a single tear, a drop of water with the scent of longing keen on its surface, filters in through the tiniest of cracks and glistens. Bringing the first daylight to this dark place it has seen in so long.

Might there be hope of resurrection?

And then the word is spoken. Not merely a word, but an incantation. A spell to bring forth light. A reverberating prayer. Come back to life, it pleads. Complete me.

“MAKINO.”

And the Tsukasa within Tsukasa is released.