Perfect (Rin, post neutral)

Tokyo is a beautiful place in the early spring. The parks are aglow with pink cherry blossoms, international tourists gazing at the little flowers in awe. It's pretty easy to pick out the newcomers from the regulars, based on the intensity of their reactions. I remember being in as much a state of wonder as they were on my first visit. Awe-inspiring is the word for it. What makes writers write. Singers sing. Painters paint.

That last thought catches me off guard, reminding me of something I lost. It's been a few years now since I last saw Rin on that fateful day in the rain. After that, she left for an art school here in Tokyo, at her teacher's behest. For a long time, I struggled to push her away from my thoughts, attempting to replace her with different hobbies. I even took up running with Emi.

But I couldn't run away from her. Maybe that's why I'm here in the city, entertaining some false hope of trying to see her one more time.

I pick up a batch of oranges to snack on from a small fruit stand outside the park and place the sack inside my trusty messenger. A nearby bench draws me in, and I take a seat as I start to peel the first orange. At some point, oranges became my favorite. Each droplet of juice brings back memories of those nights in the exhibit atelier. Of the moments like this one, feeding Rin slices of orange in silence. Of the shared cigarettes as we stared at the stars. Of our confused failure of a romance, two young fools learning how to be in love. Of how I failed her when she needed me most.

Looking at the cherry blossoms helps take my mind off her, if only for a moment. At the very least, it diverts me away from the painful memories. I start to think about what she's like now. How much has she changed since I saw her last? Would I even recognize her?

My eyes continue to survey the cherry trees before a flash of red hair catches my attention. It's a familiar auburn color, in a short tangled mess barely extending to her neck. Her shoulders flow into short arms, the sleeves of her shirt tied in knots about halfway up her torso. She's sitting on a bench, enjoying a bento and drawing a few blank stares from the passing pedestrians as she deftly moves her chopsticks between her toes.

I walk up and give the girl a tap on the shoulder. She snaps out of her hunger-induced daze and stares at me with deep green eyes. “Hello~,” she says in a sing-song tone. That's a new one.

“Uh, hi,” I respond, scratching the back of my head. “Do you remember me, Rin?” She tilts her head at me, inquisitive. Her eyelids flutter rapidly.

“I'm sorry, I don't know~ any Rin. You must have me confused with someone else~.” No, there's no chance in hell of that. Her hair is still the same style, her eyes the same dark hue, and her arms are still missing, of course. Granted, she sounds more like Misha than Rin, but there's no denying that this is definitely my favorite limbless artist. “No, I'm not confused. You're definitely Rin. It's me, Hisao. Hisao Nakai.”

She bites her lip and turns her head toward the clouds. “Hisao... Hisao...,” she mutters repeatedly. A violent shake of her head affirms her thoughts. “Nope, doesn't ring a bell. But pleased to meet~ you, Hisao. I'm Nomura Hitomi. Hitomi~ is fine.”

Hitomi? What's up with the name change? “Did you fall and hit your head or something, Ri- er, Hitomi?” That head-tilt again, almost like a puppy. “Of course I have~. Who hasn't hit their head before, silly?” Yeah, this definitely feels weird. Very un-Rin. Maybe it's just a game to her?

I decide to play along and take a seat beside her, setting my messenger bag next to the bench. “Well then, Hitomi. Since we've just met, why don't you tell me about yourself?” She smiles a bit, like most boys don't talk to her or something. “I'm an artist.” She stops there, expecting me to ask the obvious question. “But how?” I humor her. “You don't have any arms.”

A sly smile beams at me and she giggles. “My feet~.” She lifts a foot and wiggles her toes at me. To say that she seems much cheerier is an understatement. It's almost sickening how different she is. I suppose art school was good for her, in that way.

The cheeriness vanishes for a moment as a thought hits her. “You called me Rin, at first. Who is that?”

I pause and breathe deeply before I answer, trying to collect my thoughts as I stare over the park's line of trees. “An old friend. Why do you ask?”

“I remind you of her, don't I?” Her response is immediate and firm. I simply nod and say, “She even had no arms, just like you. And she painted with her feet.” I look back at her and smile. “Just like you.”

Rin has changed, that's for sure. She always talked about destroying herself during the exhibition. Maybe this was the result of that. But to take on even a new name sounds a bit extreme, even if she looks happier than ever. Can I reach out to her at all, make her realize who I am? Who we were? I think back to the bunch of oranges in my bag and pull one out. As I start to peel it, Rin takes notice of the smell.

“Say, Hisao.” She leans in closer. “You wouldn't happen to have more~ oranges would you~? They're my favorite~.”

“A bit forward there, aren't you?”

She pouts. I'm not sure I've ever seen that expression on her before. It's oddly adorable. “But I'm staaaaaaaarviiiiiing!”

“You just downed three-fourths of a bento and you're still hungry?” I pop an orange slice into my mouth. “Quite the appetite for a girl your size.”

“How observant of you~,” she giggles. I half-expected her to be insulted at that remark.

I smile and offer a slice that's happily accepted into her mouth. Just eating the oranges by myself was enough to trigger memories, but this is a complete reliving of the experience. She savors each drop of juice, licking her lips so that she doesn't miss any of the sweet flavor.

A few slices later, I stand and toss the rinds into a nearby trash bin. She's still sitting on that bench when I return, but I don't take a seat. A cheesy grin dominates her face; she's just happy to be alive. “Hey, Hitomi,” I say, “it's a nice day. Why don't we go for a walk?”

Another childlike smile. “I'd love to~.”

* * *

A stroll around the park feels weirdly familiar with Rin. We never really did anything like this in the time we knew each other.

“So,” I start in the middle of our walk, “what brings you to Tokyo? Vacation? School?” I already know the answer, but I feel like smalltalk is fitting right now.

“School,” she snorts. “I'm an art student at a school here in Tokyo. One of my old teachers helped me get here.”

“You don't sound like a fan. Bad experience?”

She turns away for a moment. “It was a hard road. There was an exhibition. It was... the best thing that happened to my career.” Her eyes come back to meet mine. “But I feel like it changed me.”

So she does remember, if only a little. “What was bad about it?”

“Just... he pushed me. Really~ hard.” She struggles to maintain the cheerful tone in her voice. “And no one was there for me.” I put a hand on her shoulder. The light contact seems to calm her a bit and she starts walking again.

“C'mon, Hisao. Too many bad memories. I'd rather not think about them.” Maybe I can keep us on the smalltalk.

“What about the rest of Tokyo? You like it here?” The look on her face shows her appreciation for the sudden change of subject. Our afternoons on the roof and walks in the rain through town were the extent of our time alone while at school. It feels quaint, being able to just move seamlessly with her as we talk so effortlessly. This Hitomi... she is very different from my Rin.

I once noticed that our footsteps never fell in sync with each other. Now, it happens almost immediately. She's so much easier to connect with. But all I can think about is the free spirit she used to be. This isn't the girl I fell in love with. Perhaps I can bring that Rin back to the surface if I elicit enough memories.

The sun is already setting when we stop to sit on a small hillside, much like the one covered in dandelions at Yamaku. She's already taken her seat beside me when I fall back into the grass and daydream into the clouds. I remark to her about the interesting shapes, of the wonder of getting lost in the sky.

We talk a bit more about her time in Tokyo, focusing more on her schooling after the exhibition. She ended up having to figure out how to transfer from star pupil to an average artist among a crowd. Though her lack of arms was a noticeable gimmick, her professors often pushed her to improve technique in ways her old teachers never did.

She stresses that last part quite a bit. “It wasn't easy, you know,” she says. “Being called a prodigy your whole life, doted on and praised for raw talent, then thrown into the crucible where all of that means nothing compared to experience and honed skill.”

“I can imagine. You didn't really like your old teacher much, I can't see you liking the new ones any better.”

“But I did~. Waaaaaaaay more. He always pushed me beyond my limits, they knew the extent of them. He tried to rush the sculpture, but they were patient. They say I was a very different person when I arrived. I never really noticed the change.” So she started changing after getting to art school. Maybe Rin's personality was her reaction to Nomiya. Was there a traumatic event there that made Rin always seem so reserved around him? She seems so happy now, in comparison. I wonder if it's right for me to basically force her into reverting this change.

“Hisao?” she asks after another silence while I muse. “Why does this feel so... familiar? So right? Just laying here, talking to you~, I mean.” Yes, the gears are in motion. She's starting to remember. “Past life, perhaps?” I respond. It's not wrong. If she really did destroy herself and craft this new identity, it would be like a born-again experience.

“I'm just so comfortable with you~, and I've only just met you.” Her head tilts to look at me through the blades of grass. “What is this feeling?” she asks. I've placed the dots, now how do I connect them? “I'm not sure,” I answer. “Maybe you know me better than you think you do.”

A serious look clouds her eyes, and she furrows her brow, turning her head back toward the clouds. Is it right for me to screw with her head like this?

We just lay there in silence for a while as the sky begins to darken. Twilight approaches, and stars begin to dot the heavens. I transition from memories of cloud-gazing to that one night in the atelier with the cigarettes. She seems mesmerized by the shapes that the stars take. “Hisao~, which one is your favorite?”

“My favorite?”

“Constellation.”

“Ah. Pisces, I think. The fish one. Or maybe the twins. I dunno.”

She laughs at my indecision. “I like Andromeda. I can see it right now. They say she was very beautiful, sacrificed to appease Poseidon, and saved by the hero Perseus.” What remains of her arms stretch out as she tells the tale. She's absolutely enthralled. “I hope I get to meet my hero like she did~. Sometimes I wonder if I already have.” Her head turns back toward me. “Maybe that's why you feel so familiar.”

Those words carry a lot of weight. And even though I'm pretty sure this is Hitomi talking, the sound of them is indescribable. After she says them, though, she retreats back into a worried state, trying to discern her thoughts. That clouded look comes back in her eyes as she turns away.

She's conflicted. As she spends more time with me, more memories follow them. All of these past experiences, hitting her like a brick wall. She's struggling to understand right now, and she needs something concrete, something tangible.  A stroke of genius reminds me that I might still have one of her brochures in my bag. I carried one around with me to show to people before her exhibition. Maybe it's the final push that I need to get through to her.

I pull the bag into my lap and start digging through the disorganized contents. “I really need to clean this thing out one day,” I think out loud. I can feel Rin's piercing eyes boring through me, trying to figure out just what is going on. C'mon, it has to be in here somewhere.

Ah, there it is, partially crumpled under old composition books. Thank God for my horrible organizational skills. I yank it out and smooth the pages on my thigh before placing it in her lap.

...and she just looks at it. Her eyes scan the pamphlet, plastered with sample photos of select paintings. “Look familiar?” I ask her.

“I...,” she mutters. Yes, Rin, you... what? You remember? Either her lower lip is quivering, or it's staying still as her whole body shakes. Her eyes flutter a bit, and I swear I can see her cheeks flush. She speaks again. “I painted these. I still have some of them.” Success.

“That's right, Rin. You painted these almost a year ago. Back at Yamaku. Do you remember?”

No response. Not a sound except light sobbing.

The tears slowly well in her eyes as she reads at the exhibit title. “Untitled - Tezuka Rin.” The last dots connect. It's coming back to her in floods: The memories, the experiences, everything we shared together in those few weeks.

A drop of fluid splashes onto the brochure. She turns to look at me, her eyes reddening. Her facade has tumbled down, laying bare the Rin that I fell in love with.

“I told you I was a bad person, Hisao.”

I smile as she falls across me and into my chest. My arms envelop her and hold her slender figure against me tightly. Moisture collects on my shoulder. My heart beats faster from the contact that I've wanted for so long. I run a hand through her hair.

Proof of existence.

As if trying to lighten the mood, I ask, “What happened to the Rin that was so good at forgetting people?”

“You're not easy to forget,” she responds, her words muffled into my shirt. “I took on a whole new life. Completely destroyed myself. All just to get you out of my head.” Her sobs have intensified, making her voice almost unintelligible. “Do you hate me?” I just shake my head so that she can feel it moving against the crest of her head. I have no words right now. Her face snuggles closer. “You definitely should.”

“You did what you had to,” I say back. “I can't fight against you, Rin. You're just too damn stubborn.” She just continues bawling, failing to collect herself.

“Was I? Was I even me back then? It feels so long ago, but like it was only yesterday.” Her eyes rise up to meet mine. The sunlight casts her irises into a blue-green tint from her normal emerald. “Did I do the right thing, Hisao?”

She doesn't let me answer and brings our lips together. Ever one to seize the day. I push her away, which definitely confuses her. “Rin, you'll always be my friend. I'll always be there for you. You don't have to be alone.”

She smiles. It's... honest. Genuine. I saw that so rarely during my time at Yamaku, but she is actually happy. Then, in an instant, it's gone, replaced with her ordinary emotionless facade, despite the dry red streaks on her cheeks. I try reaching for that smile again. “I promise, Rin. We'll be perfect this time.”

“How can you even promise that? You can't know.” She sits up and looks over her shoulder. “I don't know if I'll stay.”

“If you'll stay? What does that mean?”

“If I won't destroy myself again.” Still looking behind her. Trying to push me out, in her own way, I think. Why the hell is she so damn confusing? “Would you follow?” she asks to break the silence.

More of the back and forth. I'm not sure if she wants me back or not. First the kiss, then saying that I can't make that promise, and now asking if I'll follow her. What kind of sense does that make?

I honestly don't know. Would I follow her? I want to. I want her in my life. I want to share in her hopes and dreams, to hold her through her fears and relish in her happiness. I love this girl, with everything that I am. *Should* I follow her? This self-destruction... this new Rin... how prevalent is this? Is the Rin I knew even the real Rin? She could have just been the latest iteration in a set of Rins, each brought about by subsequent life reset buttons.

Just how many Rins are there? A few? Dozens? Scores?

This is my moment of decision. The girl that I love or letting her be the girl she really is. She has her own world. Her own way of experiencing life. Of trying to show people the world that only she can see. It's in this musing that I realize... I have to let her go. I can be her friend, but we can't be anything more. I just don't understand her enough, and the girl I fell in love with is not fully there. Was never fully there.

I can't see things the way she does. I can never fully come into her world, all because of this constant process of self-destruction and rebuilding.

And that crushes me.

But it's not just that. If I let her go like this, she'll go back to being Hitomi: a bubbly, childish persona that reflects every aspect of Rin's personality. That can only be good for her. She is obviously happier without me, even though I find it so hard to live without her. If I really love her, then her happiness comes before mine. As much as I long to have her back in my arms forever, it's unethical of me to ask her to change.

“Hisao?” Her focus snaps me out of my trance. I smile at her when our eyes lock. I place a hand on her shoulder and pull her close again for another hug.

“I... I can't, Rin. You have to find your own way. Your own voice. I can support you, but I can't follow you.”

She pulls away. “Sure you can. You stand up and walk with me.”

“You're too practical for your own good,” I say with a chuckle. She cocks her head slightly.

“Hisao... I love you. I think. I'm not really sure what that means, but I think it's what I feel about you.”

“Rin, you're not even sure yourself. How can we have each other when we don't even know ourselves?” Her eyes water a bit as she processes this. “I just...,” she mutters in a breaking voice. “I wish someone could understand me.” I pull her into another tight hug.

“I do, too, Rin.”

“Hisao? Do you love me?”

“Do you think I'd have tried so hard to bring you out if I didn't? I promised you once that I'd always be there for you. I meant it, even if I didn't keep it during the exhibition. But for now, you need to find your strength.” I reach to her face and brush away the droplets,smiling. “Can you seize the day, Rin?”

She backs away and stands up from the hillside, wearing a dejected look on her face. The tears are marching down her cheeks from her closed eyes again. It's like I've kicked a puppy. “For once, I think I understand. You want me to be free.” Her eyes open and focus on me. “I guess I should thank you, shouldn't I?”

I join her on my feet. “No, I think I should apologize. I wish I could go with you, to follow you through it all. But I don't think I'm strong enough. Not yet.” She doesn't react. She stands on her tip-toes to kiss my cheek. Then, she spins around and begins her walk. To where, I don't know. But, knowing her, neither does she. Just like that, she's gone, as sudden as she came back into my life.

I pick up my bag from the ground. The brochure is sitting on the ground, crumpled despite my attempts to flatten it. I grab the pamphlet; it's still sporting moist spots from her tears. I decide to toss it in a nearby trash can. All it means to me anymore is her lost hopes. Her fractured mind. And my broken promises.

--Inspired by the lyrics of Smashing Pumpkins