Fleeting Moment

Chapter three

He was not awakened by the morning sun that warmed his pale skin, or by the chirps of the birds, which seemed oddly out of place in a spot which held no living trees. But instead he was awoken by the smell of fire, strangely strong even though it was still far away.

Taking his time, he pulled himself to his feet unwillingly. Dusting off his clothes slowly, which now hung loosely on him, he headed in the opposite direction from where the smoke was rising.

It didn’t take him long to realize where he was, although different, less lively, it was his home. It was the town he would always consider his home. It was the town where he had first gone to school. It was where he had learned to play baseball, where he had first fallen in love, and where he had met all his friends. It was the town where he lost everything he had come to cherish.

A feeling rose inside of him, perhaps it was anger, regret, or maybe it was even fear. But he pushed it away, down deep inside of him, as he walked down the familiar street he had stumbled upon. It was her street. Or at least the street she had once lived on. He doubted she still lived there, it was foolish of him to even hope that she might. It was selfish of him to, he was putting her in danger by coming. Yet still he had come.

Stopping at where her house once stood, he let out a deep breath that he wasn't aware he had been holding. It was a home. But not hers. It was a small old wooden house, about a fourth of the size of what her’s use to be. The door, which looked as if it could be knocked down with merely a touch, held a small worn out metal plate, with a few faded letters on it. -su-a was all he could make out of it.

Still, hope sat inside his stomach, no matter how useless he believed it to be. Reaching out his hand shakily, he knocked. Time seemed to stop as he waited. One minute. Two minutes. Had it been three minutes? He didn’t know. But still he waited.

And finally the door creaked open, and as if in slow motion, he saw her. Her. The familiar curves of her face, with the same deep brown eyes. She had aged though, looking much older than she probably was. Wrinkles surrounded her eyes and mouth, while gray touched the edges of her messy brown hair. But still, it was her. And she was beautiful. More beautiful than he had ever seen her look before.

Instinctively his arm reached out, wrapping around her neck, he pulled her to him. With her, with him, he suddenly realized how big a part of him he had been missing in his life since he left. Much bigger than he had known.

It was right, it was perfect. This was what he had needed, what he had needed before he could accept his fate. Before he accepted death.

But one single word from her made him want so much more.

“...Chiaki.” She said softly.

Dun. Dun. Dun. They finally meet! Well I feel I have officially distorted Chiaki's attachment to Makoto. But I figured since he waited so long for her that he would perhaps be a bit more emotional about it all. I hope it didn't bother anyone as much as it did me. If so, TELL ME PLEASE. And I had made their meeting different at first, Makoto went all Jackie Chan on him. I would too if someone just suddenly grabbed me! But comedy is not really my forte' so reading it felt kind of off. So I switched to this instead.