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Someone’s coming.She can see it, the distant spot of red light, bobbing up and down in the murky darkness of the forest like a lone firefly.She goes to the open door, sticking her head out into the cool, sweet air, watching as the crimson pinprick slowly weaves to and fro on an unseen path, fading in and out of view between the trees and bushes, glinting, twinkling.It’s quiet, peaceful, save for the distant chirping of crickets and the gentle rustling of leaves in the wind.The light approaches, getting ever brighter. She can just about make out its cylindrical shape, the horizontal ribs along its paper sides visible through the warm glow of the light within.It’s a chōchin. A paper lantern.The pace of the lantern is sedate, relaxed, occasionally unsteady. It’s being held not too far off the ground, the texture of the dirt path before it illuminated by its dim glow. She can already make guesses at who’s holding it. Someone short, probably elderly.A usual traveler.She steps out, onto the path, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her right ear. Hands clasped at her waist, facing the great black void that is the forest in front of her, she waits to receive her next passenger.Soft, rhythmic footsteps emanate from in front of her, growing ever louder as the lantern’s light finally reaches the features of its bearer.It’s an old lady, short, with graying hair and wrinkled skin, dressed in a shawl and plain blue pants, clutching the stick bearing her lantern with bony fingers, the slightly unsteady orange glow flickering in the thick, squarish lenses of her glasses.An ordinary grandmother from anywhere.She suddenly stops, maybe five meters in front, finally spotting the girl in the light of her lamp, the old lady’s eyebrows raised in surprise.The girl bows.“Good evening.”The old lady looks a little startled, before coming to her senses and bobbing her head in return.“… good evening.”Her greyish eyes drift past the girl, looking out behind her.She sees something, and understanding suddenly fills the grandmother’s expression.“Ah… I suppose you’ll be the one to take me across?”A nod, and a reassuring smile from the girl before her.“That’s correct, ma’am. If you would come with me, please.”The girl turns on her heels, making her way back down the path, her footsteps crunching softly on the gravel.A moment of hesitation, but soon another set of footsteps follows behind her; slower, off-cadence, that dim orange glow tracing fuzzy shadows in the ground.They exit the edge of the forest, and the footsteps behind the girl stop. She stops, too, and looks back, finding the old lady, still clutching the lantern, gazing around in wonder.To their left and right is a long, almost perfectly straight strip of grassy shoreline, perhaps fifty meters wide, bordering the forest on one side and a great, wide river on the other.The river stretches out before them, its waters preternaturally calm, slow, dark, flowing imperceptibly sedately; so wide that neither can see the opposite shore.But it’s the night sky that’s captured the old lady’s gaze, her mouth hanging ever so slightly open in shock.It’s as though they’re in deep space. An endless blanket of bright, twinkling stars, stretching in all directions; every one of the many thousands hanging above them a beautiful pinprick of light.In between them sit fuzzy clouds of gas, nebulas, galaxies, in every imaginable colour: red, purple, silver, gold, and running through the sky like the stroke of some celestial paintbrush, the great white band of the Milky Way, cleaving its way through the visage.Above it all, hanging motionless, unnaturally massive, is the moon, casting the entire landscape in a creamy half-light glow, its reflection shimmering on the still water in a path of pure white all the way to the horizon.“It’s beautiful…”The girl smiles again. It’s indeed an awe-inspiring visage.Otherworldly, in every sense of the word.But they can’t linger.She gestures to her passenger.“It is. Let’s go.”The duo slowly starts down towards the river once again.They pass by a small wooden shack, painted red, little bigger than a police box, a few small steps leading to an open door where the girl had exited just minutes before.Where the grass meets the river, separated by a narrow stretch of sand, the path terminates in a small, short wooden pier, its stilts driven into the shallow water.Tied up alongside is a small wooden boat. It’s a bit bigger than a rowboat, with a raised fore and aft, perhaps resembling a crude, unpainted Venetian gondola, or a high-bowed sampan.The girl steps onto the pier first, the wooden planks creaking beneath her feet. Reaching out her hands, she helps the old lady onto the pier, steadying her, the lantern in the latter’s hand swaying with every jostle.The girl gives another reassuring smile, trying to assuage her somewhat anxious passenger.“Hold on to me tightly, ma’am.”Grabbing onto her shawl, supporting her by the arms, she gingerly helps the old lady onto the boat, narrowly avoiding slipping into the dark waters below as they put one foot onto the wooden deck, and then another, the boat rocking unsteadily from the sudden weight.There’s a dull knocking sound as both find their footing, the old lady slowly seating herself on one of the thwarts, the pain of her arthritis clearly showing on her face.The girl reaches out her hand.“Would you like to hold onto the lantern, or should I?”The old lady smiles, relieved, proffering the lantern with her bony fingers.“Oh, thank you, my dear, that would be wonderful. My hands are starting to ache from carrying it all this time.”Carrying it with extreme care, mindful of the water below, the girl moves to the bow.Reaching up, she hangs the lantern off her boat’s raised prow, now a red beacon in the dark, moonlit waters of the night.Making her way back to the boat’s aft, she finds her passenger glancing at her, pointing a wrinkly finger at the lonely wooden shack sitting on the shore.“Is that where you stay?”The shack has a single window, facing the river.And in it is another lantern. Red, flickering, glowing.The girl nods, reaching for the rope wrapped around the boat’s stern and methodically unwinding it, her fingers picking at the hemp with practiced ease.“Yes. It’s small, but it’s mine. The light helps guide me back.”The rope finally comes free, the girl throwing its length onto the pier with a dull thump.Bending down, she pulls a single, long sculling oar, almost as long as she is, and places it on a bracket on her right side, the paddle making an ever so slight sploosh as its tip slips into the water.It’s time to go.Propping the oar against one of the pier’s stilts, she gently pushes the boat off into the open water, the wooden beams beneath her groaning softly.The boat rocks, but she puts the oar into the water, steadying it, before gently beginning to twist and turn the handle in a figure eight.Slowly at first, then gradually, they speed up, the oar pushing the craft forward with each measured stroke, her hands and arms moving methodically, rhythmically.They pull away from the pier, gliding across the unnaturally calm moonlit river, flowing so slowly that it’s as though they’re sailing upon an endless pane of black glass.From her vantage point at the raised stern, the entire vista of the stunning night sky is on full display, now unfettered by trees or any other obstruction. The heavens themselves stretch out before them, rolling all the way to the horizon, merging with the dark water to create the impression that they really are floating in deep space.The girl glances behind her, watching as the pier and the shoreline begin to melt into the twilight gloom, with only the single red lantern in the window acting as her lighthouse.A voice interrupts her thoughts.“I’m sorry, I never got your name, my dear.”She turns around to see the old lady sitting demurely, hands folded, gazing at her with those greyish eyes.The girl’s lips part, then close, then part again. It’s not often a passenger asks for her name.“It’s Saki. Saki Enomoto.”The old lady smiles.“Saki… that’s a lovely name. My name is Sumi. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”The girl nods, the hem of her white sundress rustling slightly in a light breeze which blows from behind. Saki doesn’t feel the cold; she can’t feel very much, to be honest.The only sensation she can truly feel is the rough wood of the oar on her palms as she works it back and forth.Again, Sumi’s voice punctures the preternatural quiet.“Do you enjoy your work?”Saki shrugs her shoulders.“It is what it is. The view does make it a whole lot better; I will admit.”Sumi leans back slightly, turning her eyes upwards.“Even out in the countryside, where I lived, the night sky was never this beautiful.”A shower of shooting stars emerges above them, a half dozen brilliant white trails streaking across the cosmic tapestry at breakneck speed before vanishing into the horizon, as quickly as they came.“I was a bit of a singer, when I was young.”Sumi’s still gazing upwards, talking in a hushed, croaky tone to the stars above.“I’d be constantly following along to my mother’s record player during the summer, when there was nothing else to do. I loved all the old tunes, the love songs, the ballads, dances and jazz. I’d sing, and sing, and sing, and word would get around, and soon there’d be people from all over the village crowding around my front door to hear me perform.”Another small smile creeps onto Sumi’s lips, and her face takes on that faraway expression of someone lost deep in memories of the past.“When I was about your age, they even got me on the local radio, once. Everyone was saying I was certain to move to the big city, make a name for myself, become a star. They all said that.”Saki listens, patiently, quietly, her arms moving back and forth with the motion of the oars.The old lady’s reminiscing. A life story, compressed into a few words, merely to fill the silence, or ease her burdens as they move further and further away from the shore.Saki’s just the ferryman. She can only listen, and row.“But I didn’t. Nothing more came of it. After I graduated, I married a farmer’s boy from the same village and settled down. He worked the farm, and I worked the house. I sang, for him, for the children, every now and then, but mostly when I did the dishes or washed the clothes. We stayed in that same village we grew up in. And that was that.”Sumi finishes her tale.And closes her mouth.Oh.That’s…… anticlimactic.Usually, her passengers tend to ramble, waxing mournful or poetic, trying desperately to push years of happiness, sadness, anger, anguish, off their chest in the time it takes to cross the river, like a man at his last confessional.Not this old lady, though. She still sits, dignified in demeanour and posture, describing the path of her life like she had merely gone down to the shops.Saki can’t help but be a bit disappointed at the abrupt end to Sumi’s story.She finds herself asking questions.“Do you… regret not going to the city? That you didn’t sing?”Sumi closes her eyes.“…no. I don’t. I often wonder what might have happened if I did, but I don’t regret it.”Perhaps it’s because Saki can’t keep the surprise from her face, but Sumi’s smile grows wider.“People asked me the same thing, and I always replied the same way. This was the life I chose for myself. I was happy in my little corner of the world, isolated as it was. I had my house, my family, and failing that, I’d always have the sun, the moon, and the mountains. My music was my own. My voice was my own. That was always enough for me.”To be just a face in the crowd. To live, seeking not the highs and the lows, but equilibrium.Saki can’t help but be a little baffled as Sumi continues.“Old fashioned, they call it. ‘Grandma,’ they tell me, ‘why didn’t you roll the dice? Why not escape? Why not take the risk?’”Sumi leans in, ever so slightly, straining against her stiff back, lowering her voice almost to a whisper, as though imparting unto Saki some secret, forbidden knowledge.“Ambition, my dear. Success. Fame. Young people are always ambitious; they have to be, I suppose. It’s how they grow. But not everyone can walk on stage. Not everyone can become a millionaire. For everyone else, an ordinary life awaits. And what is so bad about that? It’s called ordinary for a reason, is it not?”Ordinary.Saki’s never known ordinary.She never had the time to.To live sedately was a luxury she could not afford. The ordinary was as unattainable as flying by flapping her arms.What choice did she have?Her path was chosen for her from the start.Only here, in this place, shadowed by the perpetual night and guarded by the hanging moon, can she reflect. To do small things, ordinary things.Like gazing at the stars.Like watching the flowing waters.Like crossing this river.Saki glances behind them. The shore they departed has almost entirely vanished, the lone lantern at the window now little more than a dim red speck.The only light is from the lantern at the bow, the stars, and the great moon hanging above it all.“You’re quite young, my dear. Do you have any regrets? Something that you did you wish you could take back?”Sumi’s sudden question takes Saki by surprise.“I…”Well.Where to start?She doesn’t know if she should’ve done anything differently.Would it have made any difference if she did?The people she loved, the people she hurt, all the choices she made, they all inexorably led her here, to this place.There was never an alternative. This oar would inevitably end up in her hands. She would inevitably end up at this river.So why does Sumi’s question pain her so?“… not really. Only regrets for what could’ve been, I guess.”Nothing more.It won’t do to spill her heart.Saki is just the ferryman, after all.Sumi nods.“I see. Those are the greatest regrets of all, because your imagination has no limit to the possibilities it can supply. To wonder is much worse than to want to take back.”That’s true.With nothing for company except the moon and the stars, wondering is all Saki ever does, nowadays.She doesn’t respond.Then, on the horizon.The other shore.It comes into view, stretching out endlessly stretching out to the left and right, growing ever clearer in the half-light as Saki continues to row.There’s the same thin strip of pebbly beach, followed by grass, but in contrast to the thick, dark forest from which they departed, there is naught but open country behind the shoreline.Through the gloom, she spots her destination, an identical wooden pier on stilts, jutting out into the shallow water.She’s dead on.She looks down at her lone passenger, who’s gazing out into the water, watching the moonlight shimmer on its surface.“We’re almost there.”Saki’s motions begin to slow, her oar catching the water, gradually slowing the vessel as they approach the shoreline.With practiced ease, she deftly maneuvers the boat alongside the pier, the hull scraping along the wooden stilts as she brings them to a stop.Saki reaches for the hemp rope dangling off the pier, grabbing onto it and pulling them in, winding it around the stern.She can feel Sumi watching her with curiosity as she works.“You’re quite good at this, aren’t you?”Satisfied that the line is tight, Saki turns around and offers the old lady her hand.“It’s just my job. Hold onto me one last time, ma’am.”Getting to her unsteady feet, Sumi grabs Saki’s hand, and they both carefully climb onto the pier, one foot at a time.Saki can hear the old lady hissing with pain at every step. It’s unpleasant, but they’re almost done.After making sure her passenger is alright, she bends down and plucks the lantern from the boat’s prow, gently holding onto its thin sides with her palms.Standing up, she gazes at the landscape they find themselves in.It’s as though they’ve been set down on an alien planet.There’s not a single tree, or shrub, or any other kind of vegetation.There is only an endless carpet of wispy, shin-high grass stretching all the way to the horizon.There are a few rolling hills and undulating valleys, covered in grass that moves and shimmers in the wind like waves in the water.It’s desolate, haunting, but strangely beautiful.They walk onto the shore. There’s no path here, just the sea of wavy grass.They’ve gone as far as they can.Turning around, Sumi looks into Saki’s eyes, and bows deeply.“Thank you for taking me across, my dear.”Saki can see the old lady’s joints trembling at the exertion, and she moves quickly to respond in kind.“It’s nothing.”The sound of the cicadas is gone. There isn’t even the sound of the water.Only the wind and the rustling of the grass remains.It’s time.There’s only one last thing to do.Saki holds out the lantern, still glowing in her hands, scattering its crimson light over the dark ground.“Would you like to blow out your lantern, or should I?”Sumi considers for a moment, then shakes her head.“My lungs are poor, and old. Could you, please?”The old lady gives one final, reassuring smile.Saki would really prefer not to do this herself.But she has a duty.She chose this.She gives one last look to her passenger, and gazes into the lantern before her.Inside, the flame flickers, perched in its little drum of clear oil, its warmth tickling Saki’s nose.Saki closes her eyes.She takes a deep breath in.And blows.The light disappears.She opens her eyes.She’s holding nothing. The lantern in her hands has vanished.She looks around her.The old lady is gone, too.Saki is once again alone, surrounded only by the endless waves of grass.She sighs.Turning on her heels, she makes her way back to the boat.It’s time to return.…This is her work.Most come solo, their lone lantern floating in the darkness.They are of all different ages, sizes, genders, though her passengers skew much more elderly, as might be expected.Their dress and bearing vary wildly. Some come in home clothes, or suits, some in jackets or sundresses, others in tattered fabric and unkempt hair.They come from every walk of life, from every place. Neither language nor culture poses any barrier here.There is only the river, the boat, and their lantern.Some limp, some struggle to walk, fighting to hold the stick that carries their lantern. Others are in perfect health, proceeding to the pier at a hurried pace, or dawdling on the other side to gaze at the stars or pick at the leaves, some to the point that Saki has to manhandle them to the boat.Their demeanor varies wildly, too.Some are silent, brooding, staring dejectedly at the water or the horizon, saying not a word to, or sometimes even acknowledging, the girl quietly rowing them across the river.Others are emotional, hysterical, weeping, sobbing, crying aloud about this or that, about the things they left behind, the people they’ll never see again. They wail, their tears falling onto the boat or over the side, making tiny splashes in the water.It rips at Saki’s heart, but she tries her level best to remain resolute, to give a few words of comfort, of sympathy, feeling very much like an untrained therapist, or a priest receiving some sinner’s final confession.Some plead, on their hands and knees, to not make them cross the river, to stay on the shore and in the forests for as long as they can, telling wild, anguished stories or promising impossible things for her favour.But there’s nothing they can offer her here, no words to alter the path that they all must eventually walk. There’s only so many seats on her boat, and it won’t do to clog her pier with waiting souls.Many are simply dumbfounded, sitting stunned and idle on the thwarts, staring at the wonderous vista above them, or at her as she rows.They talk; some, about trivial things; others, about life, or their sorrows, or their happiness. Some tell such grand stories that she forgets what she’s doing and stops rowing, or ends up off course, necessitating an embarrassing reroute.Others ramble, and she mercilessly tunes them out by picking out craters on the moon or counting how many ripples her boat makes in the water.Many ask Saki if she’s God.Hah.She wishes.No matter who they are, what they do, what they say, their journey always proceeds the same way.Saki departs with passengers, and always returns with an empty boat.Again, and again, and again.Countless faces, their features illuminated only by the moonlight, meld together in her memories. An endless stream of passengers, waiting for their one-way journey beyond.She’s long lost count of how many she’s taken across. In many ways, it feels as though this is all she’s ever known.Saki comes back to the pier by the forest, always alone.Sometimes, there’s someone already at the shore, waiting for her. Many times, only an empty path greets her, and she retreats to her little wooden shack to wait.It’s tiny and spartan. A desk and chair by the window. Seated on her windowsill, by the corner, is that same red lantern, her lighthouse, still burning bright, casting its glow in the otherwise dark room.There’s often a long wait between arrivals; exactly how long, she cannot say. There’s naught to do but stare at the river, or gaze at the stars, wandering along the shoreline, her thoughts her only company.Some of her passengers stand out like a sheet of flame in her mind.A few arrive in twos, or threes.One particular group of four won’t leave her mind.She can remember them clearly, being shocked at the four lanterns bobbing up and down in the depths of the dark forest.Stepping into the moonlight, they revealed themselves to be a group of young men, clearly close friends, almost exactly her age, wearing fashionable clothes and sporting slicked back hair.Despite their surroundings, they showed no signs of fear or trepidation. They laughed, sang, cracked jokes at one another, paced this way and that, ambling down the path as though they were merely out for a midnight walk in the countryside.She ushered them onto the boat, which they boarded with all the ruckus of an amusement park ride, rocking the vessel, even splashing water into each other’s faces.They implored her to join them in song, bantered amongst themselves even as a bemused Saki rowed them inexorably to the other side.There, they bade her a joyful farewell, and, gathered in a circle, blew out their lanterns together, their laughter vanishing with their presence.On the journey back, she tried desperately not to speculate on why all four would’ve arrived together.It’s the children, though, that most seriously test her strength.They don’t come often, but when they do, it hurts.Some are older, eight or nine, ten or eleven, wandering down the pathway with sandal-clad feet or colourful Velcro shoes, the glow of their lanterns dancing in their somewhat dazed, disorientated eyes.The worst are the youngest, the toddlers, maybe slightly older, staggering through the forest on short, stumpy legs, chubby fingers grasping their lantern with all their might, guided by a force altogether beyond her.Standing there, waiting in the path to receive them, it’s all Saki can do not to fall to her knees when they come into view.Instead, she steels herself, putting on her most ingratiating and assuring smile, bending down, talking in hushed tones and singsong-like verse, trying to assuage them, comfort them, in the little time she has with them.She leads them to the boat; the youngest, she merely picks up and gently places them on the thwarts. The older ones, she leads by hand, carefully ensuring their little legs don’t slip on the wood.She rows them across. The youngest, their eyes wide and confused, she coos at them, waves at them, trying her best to distract them, fighting to keep that smile on her face against the crushing weight of it all.The older ones, she talks to them. She points at the stars, the grand cosmic vista that surrounds them, pointing out constellations, galaxies, the North Star and the planets.Some understand what’s happening. Many don’t. Either way, she refuses to acknowledge it, and tries to keep them in this bubble of peace, far away from the world, for as long as she can.She’s always on the verge of collapse by the time they make it to the other side.Holding back the tears, she has to force herself to come up with the air to blow out the lanterns of the youngest ones, her eyes always squeezed tight, dewdrop tears leaking from the sides.The older ones, she tells them with choked words that it’s just like blowing out a birthday candle.They disappear.And she runs.She rows back as fast as she can.The moment the boat is safely tied to the pier, she all but flees to the safety of her little shack, sits down on the wooden chair…And weeps.It’s at those moments, when she’s at her weakest, that she reaches for her lantern, brushing the sides with her fingers.It’d be so easy to just grab it and go.But she can’t.She made a choice.The pact she brokered, that binds her to this place, to the oar, that keeps her rowing back and forth across the river.“Is that your lantern in the window?”The voice cuts through Saki’s thoughts.She’s on her boat, untying it from the pier.Before her, sits her passenger.A young man with long, black hair, a little older than she is. He’s dressed in a long brown overcoat and dark pants. On the street, he might have looked mysterious, but now, sitting hunched on the thwarts, he just looks deflated.“Yes.”He narrows one eye at her.“How long have you been here?”Saki is taken aback.“I… don’t know.”She really doesn’t know.Time ceases to have any meaning in this place. The stars wander across the sky, yet the moon hangs motionless above everything, so there’s no way to tell how long she’s been here.She could’ve been here for a few months. A year, perhaps. Ten years. A thousand years. Who knows.All her memories in this place in this place have melded together.Her passenger cocks his head.“Why stay? Why not take your lantern, and cross the river yourself? What’s stopping you?”
Why stay?
Why stay indeed.“I made a promise to someone. I have to keep it.”She’s spent her whole life taking. Taking from people, from places, from those closest to her. Every action geared towards giving her an extra few minutes on earth. She couldn’t do otherwise.Still, she wants to give it back, even if it is just for one person, even if it’s just one promise.“I’ll wait. No matter how long it takes.”Her passenger seems unconvinced, raising an eyebrow at her declaration.“Even if it takes an eternity?”It’s almost funny, how clichéd it is, until she realizes that she may as well have spent an eternity in this place.What’s another eternity after that?Promises must be kept.“If that’s what it takes.”At that, he gives a short laugh, shaking his head and smiling.“Ahh, the foolishness of young love. Well, I must respect your fortitude, if nothing else.”Saki can’t help but feel she’s being mocked, but it’s the truth.No matter how tough it gets, she’s still going to stay.She’s been through much worse before.As long as it takes.She begins to row.…Someone’s coming.Startled, she raises her head from the table. She wasn’t asleep. Sleep doesn’t seem to exist in this place of perpetual night.She goes to the open door, sticking her head out into the cool, sweet air.She can see it, the distant spot of red light, bobbing up and down in the murky darkness of the forest like a lone firefly.The light approaches, getting ever brighter. The pace of the lantern is steady, measured, being held some distance off the ground. She can already make guesses at who’s holding it. Someone taller, and younger.Not her usual traveler.She steps out, onto the path, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her right ear. Hands clasped at her waist, facing the great black void that is the forest in front of her, she waits to receive her next passenger.Soft, rhythmic footsteps emanate from in front of her, growing ever louder as the lantern’s light finally reaches the features of its bearer.Her heart stops.She almost can’t believe it.“H-Hisao?!”It’s him alright.Lanky. Short brown hair, with a little sprig dangling from the top. Clad in checkered shirt and full-length black pants.And deep brown irises, staring wide-eyed at the girl in front of him.“… Saki?”His voice is soft, almost breaking. He clearly can’t believe it either.The fingers holding the lantern in front of him tremble.“What… what are you doing-”There’s no more distance between them.Instantly, Saki has her arms wrapped around him, Hisao’s reflexes only just saving his lantern from being crushed as she slams into his chest.He’s warm. His body is wonderfully familiar, a memory recalled from an eternity ago.For a second, it’s just her, and him.“Saki, what… what are you doing here?”She looks up at him, the tears trailing down her cheeks glinting in the moonlight.“I waited, Hisao.”He frowns at her, as though he can’t quite comprehend what she’s saying.“… why?”More tears. She pulls even closer, her chin resting on his collarbone.She smiles.“I promised, didn’t I? I promised I’d wait for you on the other side.”“Well, I…”Hisao’s seems to choke on his words as he looks to the side, tears welling up in his own eyes.Regret.“Saki, you didn’t have to wait…”He gazes past her, at the pier, at the river, at the night sky beyond them.“How have you been waiting here?”She opens her mouth, then closes it.She still doesn’t have an answer.She merely shakes her head. The only timeframe she knows is eternity, and she doubts saying it aloud will improve the mood.Hisao grits his teeth, clearly in frustration, but says nothing.The moonlight catches his face, and she can finally get a good look at him.Everything’s the same. The same hair. The same height. The same warmth. The same face, just as she remembers it.Everything’s the same.Which means…Saki comes to a realisation.“You’re…”Instantly, it’s as though ice has filled her veins.“You’re still young.”For all the time she’s spent here, Saki still doesn’t quite know how this place works. Whether people arrive as they truly are, the same age, the same bodies, the same clothes.She doesn’t know if she’s been taking people chronologically, or if they come from anytime and anywhere. Time and distance doesn’t exist here.But the moment she says those words, guilt floods Hisao’s face.He turns away.Her mind is immediately deluged with dark possibilities.“Hisao, what… what happened to you?”He refuses to meet Saki’s eyes, even as she breaks the embrace, moving to the side and grabbing Hisao by the shoulders.“Hisao… tell me. What’s going on?”Hunched over in the gloom, he doesn’t answer. He looks so defeated.Saki’s heart is beating in her ears.What is he hiding?“Can… can we just go, Saki?”His voice is tiny, timid, warbling.He looks up with glistening eyes, the first tears beginning to stream down his face.“Wha…”Even in her final memories with him, so, so long ago, he didn’t look like this.“Please?”He’s begging, pleading now.The lantern in his hand shudders with the shaking of his hands.There’s something he’s not telling her.He’s hiding something.Something very wrong.She wants to know.Needs to know.What happened to the people she left behind?The questions begin to swirl in her mind.
But…
But…But she’s tired.She’s been waiting for so long.Every cell in her body is crying out for answers.But he’s right here.With his lantern.Ready to cross the river.Isn’t that good enough?Isn’t this what she wanted?Isn’t this what she’s been waiting an eternity to do?Saki sighs.Grabbing his hand, she begins to lead him down the path, to the lonely wooden shack by the pier.They enter the cramped room, Hisao having to duck his head through the doorway.“… is this where you’ve been staying all this time?”Saki simply nods at Hisao’s tentative question, pushing the chair out of the way and bending down to retrieve something behind one of the table legs.Standing back up, she reveals what’s in her hands.Her cane. Black handle and polished steel.She hasn’t touched it in forever.Hisao simply blinks at it in shock.“I just realised… you’re walking without it.”Saki smiles a little.“Yeah. I guess they couldn’t have me take people across the river while using it, could they?”Hisao glances out the window, to the boat tied up at the pier.“Is that what you’ve been doing here?”She nods.“Yes.”Cane in one hand, Saki reaches for her lantern with the other, lifting it from the place where it has sat, acting as her beacon, her lighthouse, for an untold eon.“Let’s go.”They head outside, Hisao stepping out onto the path, Saki halting at the wooden steps.She shuts the door for the last time.They make their way to the pier, the wood creaking beneath their feet.Saki carefully leans over the side, hanging her lantern on the prow of the boat.She turns back to see Hisao gazing up at the celestial vista above them, like every other passenger she’s taken.He seems totally amazed, as though he can’t believe what he’s seeing.“It’s… beautiful.”Despite everything, she giggles a little.It’s been so long since she’s seen him like this.It’s been so long since she’s seen him in general.“Everyone seems to say that.”They board the boat, Saki helping Hisao find his footing on the curved hull. As she grabs onto Hisao’s arms and guides him onboard, she can’t help but laugh at the reversal of roles.With her passenger seated comfortably, his lantern held in his hands, she pulls at the rope anchoring them to the pier, casting it away with a sense of finality.Saki reaches down to grab her sculling oar when she spots the cane, sitting innocently on one of the thwarts in front of Hisao where she’d left it.She picks it up, running over the steel body with her fingers.“I always felt that the cane was a part of me, almost like an extension of my arm. But when I got here, and when I discovered I could walk without it… I never thought about it again.”Hisao purses his lips, reaching out to touch the cane with his fingers, too.“Do you want to take it with you?”Saki stares at the cane in her hands.It’s the last vestige of her past life. A physical talisman of her struggle. Her suffering. Her story.It feels wrong to leave it behind, as though she’d be leaving behind a part of her body.But she’s here now.She’s about to cross the threshold.She can never go back.She’ll never return to this shore.So, Saki makes her decision.She grips the cane in her right hand…And throws it over the side.For a brief moment, it spins in the air, tumbling end over end.Then it hits the dark, moonlit waters with a splash, sending droplets flying in all directions, immediately disappearing from view.It’s gone.They watch it sink.Wordlessly, Saki reaches for her oar, sets it on the bracket, and begins to row.She glances behind her, at the empty pathway, at the dark forest, at the wooden shack that no longer has the lantern in the window.One more thing to leave behind. One more thing to consign to her memory.Even if it was never home, she’ll miss that shore. She’s been waiting there too long for it to not have grown on her, in an odd way.In tranquil silence, they pull away from the shoreline, gliding their way across the pitch-black river, Hisao’s eyes flitting between the moon, the stars and the galaxies that array above them.There’s just the two of them.She wants this to last forever.But Saki can’t let her final concern go so easily.She takes a deep breath.“Tell me the truth Hisao.”Her passenger jolts.Her tone is hardened, determined. He clearly wasn’t expecting another round of this.“Hisao, what happened? Did you do something?”She can’t keep the thoughts out of her mind. Hisao is here, yes, but why? How?What price has he paid to join her in this way?
What have you done, Hisao?
Her voice rises.“I need to know, Hisao. You can’t keep this from me forever. If you-”“Saki.”He interrupts her. His tone is bitter, desperate.She stops rowing.The shore they left is no longer in sight. They can’t see their destination, either.It’s as though they’re in the middle of the ocean.Only the moon watches.“Saki… I’ve been waiting so long to see you. To be with you.”That same pleading voice. The voice he used when they first reunited in the forest.“To hold you, talk to you, cross this river with you… it’s all I ever wanted.”Hisao shakes his head, his eyes once again glistening, as he moves over, his hands closing over Saki’s, who’s still gripping onto the oar with whitened knuckles.“I know I’ve been selfish before, but… please? For one last time, can you allow me to be selfish, and just be here with you?”He gazes deep into her eyes.He knows her weak point. Sentimentality. And what could be more sentimental than this earnest plea, on a placid, glassy river, under a canopy of endless stars?She knows she’s being deceived. She knows the wool is being pulled over her eyes.But the bliss of ignorance is simply too strong.Here, in this place of perpetual night, where time is meaningless.She can forget.Forget about her regrets, the things that could have been.Forget about her past, her cane, the things that held her back.Forget about the secrets Hisao is keeping from her.And just live in this wonderful, tranquil moment.They’re almost there.Saki……relents.Her oar moves again, the water rippling and churning with every stroke.Finally, the other shore comes into view.The lone pier sticking out into the water, and then the endless grassy fields beyond.Saki goes through the motions she’s done countless times before as she ties the boat up against the pier.Yet, she can’t help but feel a sense of longing. This has been her entire existence, her work, for so long. The first and only work she’s ever truly done.For a second, she wonders who will take the boat back to the other shore.But for her, it doesn’t matter anymore.Like Hisao, she’s going to be selfish one last time.They disembark, with Hisao helping Saki out of the boat this time, carefully removing her lantern from the prow so that each carries their light in their hands.Hand in hand, they walk onto the shore, the grass rustling beneath their shoes in the gentle breeze.In front of them.Desolation.There’s only the moon, the stars, and each other.The countless gone before.The lanterns in their hands.It’s time to go.“On the count of three?”Saki glances to her right.Hisao, a small smile on his lips, the wind gently blowing at the tips of his hair, his fingers wrapped around hers.She waits no longer.Saki nods.“On the count of three.”They close their eyes……and take a deep breath.Three.Two.One.Their lanterns go out.