Men of Snow (Misha)

Men of Snow


I thought we'd have more time. I mean, I guess it always goes like that. But I really mean it. The three of us managed to survive graduation, and, knowing this day would come, we spent most of our days together after that. But the school year is different overseas than in Japan, and before we even knew it, we were here.

I'm here.

Now I'm standing at the airport, and there's no more time. The early morning light filters through the windows, it clings to me gently as quotes and speeches and words of wisdom run through my head. I would seize every second if I could, I would grip them tightly and slow down the clock, just to delay the inevitable. Just to stay here a little longer.

Would I go at all? Would I get on the plane, if I had a choice anymore?

Do I have a choice, anymore?

“You're sure you packed everything you need?” Hisao's voice breaks through my thoughts, dragging me back to the reality at the speed of light.

“Of course Hicchan~! This was nothing compared to my room at Yamaku.” It takes a moment to put myself back together, but I stick my tongue out at the messy-haired boy standing a few feet away, shoulder to shoulder with another girl. My best friend, my everything, once. Even if it wasn't mutual.

I haven't spent very much time at airports. They're something that I would like, in theory. Every one is a gateway to strange, exciting places, filled with people either headed towards an adventure or finally coming home. The kiosks and shops boast flashy souvenirs and momentos of Japanese life, delicious foods from here and across the world are just waiting to offer a glimpse of things to come. All in all, airports aren't that bad, or so I thought.

But as I stand here with the two people in the whole world who mean the most to me, waiting for my flight to America to begin boarding, all I can think about is how airports are for goodbyes.

I guess I'm lucky, I haven't had to say too many of those in my life. But everyone's luck runs out eventually.

People everywhere rush around in all directions, but the three of us stand together, an island in ourselves. Tinny announcements about flight schedules and blurbs about airport safety come over the speaker system, but I can't bring myself to listen even if I could or should, my mind is elsewhere.



It's hard to describe, really. The urge to cry is there, it's waiting somewhere, in the distance. But I can't manage it. I just sit there, in the restroom of the Shanghai, my eyes locked on the one, solitary window and the blue sky beyond.

I breathe in, sharp and heavy, trying to steady myself, trying to regain my composure. Trying everything to will away this pain inside me. But I can't. It won't go down, it won't go down.

I thought I was over this. I thought I had this feeling squared away, wrapped up with a neat little bow and stored under the floorboards somewhere, but I was wrong. It's like a closet filled to the brim that spews out in an avalanche, and even though I wasn't the one who opened it, I'm the one getting buried.

I let out a weary sigh. And here I... I didn't think anything could hurt as much as graduation.

It's been a few days since the ceremony, the now retired Student Council has made one more trip to the Shanghai. Part of me wants to stay here, stay out of sight for as long as I can, because I don't want to be out there. I'm not sure if I can take it. I know that the me from a few months ago wouldn't have been able to.  She'd be crying.

Don't cry, me. Come on.

There's a knock on the door but I don't respond, I'm too busy shoving everything back down inside myself, bolting it up tight. A few moments pass and the door opens, slowly, carefully. Shizune appears, a mix of curiosity and concern in her eyes.

[Shicchan, I could have been...] I let my hands drift, the equivalent of trailing off. I don't think my face is damp, I don't think it is, but I don't want to lie, so I try some halfhearted deflection.

[If you were, you would have locked the door. What's wrong?]

Well, I didn't want to lie.

[Nothing's wrong, Shicchan.] I force a smile. It should be so easy, after all, it usually is. But somehow it's not. [I just needed to wash up.]

She's not buying it, but the clear solution to the problem is to get me back to our table, it's to get me back to our friends. That's her solution, anyway. To my problem.

[Come on.] She signs with force, but her face softens. [Your drink is getting cold.]

“Oh!” I both say and sign it, my drink, my drink. I don't... really care if it gets cold, but I'm going to miss the drinks they serve here. And the food, and evenings spent with Shizune and Hisao, talking about student council or life in general or just nothing.

I'm going to miss it.

I'm going to miss it all.



[You'll let us know as soon as you arrive, correct?] Shizune signs, oblivious to the rush and the roar of the airport that seems to press me from all sides. I bob my head up and down, of course I am.

“And when I get set up, I'll find a way to do one of those video chats! And then I'll see you all the time~!” I don't really need to speak the words aloud as I sign, of course Hisao can understand the motions. But I want to, I find that spot in the back of my throat and push, I push until my voice gets loud and loud and people are even looking at us but I don't care, I feel better like this.

I want to leave Japan, I want to leave my home with a bang. With a smile and a wave and a promise to meet again and have lots of fun. I don't want the last sound I make here to be a whimper.

[It's a promise.] Shizune replies with a determined smile. Things aren't going to be easy for them either, they're both headed to different universities once school starts up here again, and I know that's going to be hard. I guess things are going to be hard for all of us, at least for a while.

I guess that's what growing up is.



Is this it?

It is, it is. It's the last time I'll see this room.

It's the last time I'll close this door, I didn't even realize it but, this morning. That was the last time I would ever wake up in this bed.

My bed.

Everything is packed, the walls are empty and the floor is bare and it's the most depressing sight I've ever seen. Maybe.

I mean, it was a nice room. A nice bed, a nice desk, wardrobe, all that. I know there are probably better rooms out there, hopefully my room in America is nice too. But this one was mine.

The time I spent here, the times Shicchan slept over and we studied or just talked and laughed. The nights I spent alone, and I hurt and ached and yearned, just wishing things could be different.

I take a few slow steps across the carpet, I walk over to the bed. On most of those nights, I cried into this pillow. The tears were always mine, but the pillow isn't. Not anymore.

I reach to pick it up, I cradle it in my arms. It's still soft, even if it doesn't have my pillowcase anymore. Even though that belongs to me.

This pillow was my friend, sort of. It was there for me. This whole room, this whole room is my friend, my sanctuary, every piece of it is a piece of me.

And I don't want to go.

I hug the pillow to my chest, I lower my head and sink my chin into its softness, fighting back the tears that threaten to pour down my face.

I'm not scared of going to America, I'm not worried. Some part of me really is excited, somewhere inside it really is what I want. What I need.

“Goodbye.” I mumble, to my friends, to myself. To my old life.

“G-goodbye.” I bury my face in the pillow, feeling it grow warm and wet against my skin just one more time.

“Goodbye...”



“...this is the final boarding call for international flight number fifty-seven, with service to...” A voice drifts over the speakers of the airport.

“Misha. Misha?” Another voice, this one's closer, it's...

A loud snapping shatters my daydreams like glass, I look up. I recognized the second voice as Hisao, but this one... this one I know even better.

Shicchan...

“That's your flight, isn't it? Don't you need to board now?” Hisao asks, signing his speech with practiced ease. Shizune glances at his motions before looking back at me, her eyes are bright, her gaze is steady. I know that she agrees with him. And I know that she understands.

“That's... that's right, Hicchan! I need to go!” I muster my strength to belt out the words, I flip a switch inside and smile brightly. But as I reach down to pick up my carry-on bag, I realize that I can't really sign like this.

Somehow, the noise of the terminal is so loud now. A glance over my shoulder reveals that the line to board the airplane is dwindling, it really is the final boarding call, and I'm out of time. No, no no no, is this it? Now?

I have to do something, this could be one of the most important moments of my life. This could be the last time I... the last time I ever see Hisao and Shizune. Hicchan, Shicchan.

Two-thirds of me.

I don't know what to do, I can't even sign properly like this. Panic is starting to creep into my throat, this is a moment that I should seize, right? This is important, this is so important. I don't know what to do, I just know that I have to do something.

So my head clears. Somehow, some way, time actually does seem to slow down. I look back at the two of them, Hisao is smiling softly and...

...and Shizune, she...

She looks me right in the eyes, and that iron facade cracks wide open. If she was wearing a mask before, it would have split in two now, her face just scrunches up and tears begin rolling down and before I even know what's happening my body is pressed against hers, our arms are wrapped around eachother and both of us are just crying.

I can't stop the tears, now. I don't want to stop them. Shizune hugs me tightly, her frame trembles with each repressed, inaudible sob but I don't have any hesitation, I don't need any restraint, I'm almost wailing now. She lifts one arm away from me but before I can even open my eyes it's replaced by another.

“H-Hicchan...”

“It's okay, Misha.” He replies, even his voice strained with emotion. “We'll talk to you again soon, right?”

“Right.” I sputter, tightening my grip on the two of them. “Right, right, right.”

I need this, I've been needing this, but I know that I have to leave. I sniff loudly, I give my two best friends in the world one more squeeze, but then I pull away, I snatch up my carry-on bag and take a few steps backwards.

Shizune is too busy wiping her eyes to sign, but that's okay. It's enough. We've said enough. She gives me a weak, trembling smile and I return it, even though I'm still crying.

I tear my gaze away from the two of them, I march with trembling legs over to the terminal where a man in a uniform scans my ticket and I pass through the gate at the end of the queue.

No going back now.

No going home now.

The airport staff are impatient, the on-ramp is before me, waiting to take me up and away and to somewhere new. But I still look back. I turn to catch one more glimpse of my friends, my best friends, my everything in the whole world but I have to do this for me.

Hisao's arm is around Shizune's shoulder, her eyes are still red and wet but she gives me a smile, they both do.

I think... I think this is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. But I still do it. I still find the strength somehow, even though the tears are still coming and my heart is beating so quickly and my legs have turned to jelly.

I smile back. I wave.

And then I turn and go.






“Men of Snow” is a song by Ingrid Michaelson.