Summary: A year after Atobe inherited the business and Jirou left him, Atobe reflects on life and ponders the events leading up to it.
Disclaimer: Meh, PoT is still not mine!!
The wintry frost melted into spring rains, falling around me, soaking me. They say with each spring rain, the weather gets warmer until the thunderstorms come, and then Tokyo will be a humid hot city again. Summer will soon disappear into a refreshing autumn, where the chrysanthemums will bloom into the decaying weather. Soon, they will also wilt into another winter full of pale snow, unrelenting whiteness. This is my thoughts as I tread home after another day of work. Has it really been a year since I inherited everything? A year since my parents died? A year since the last time I saw him?
I wonder what would happen if I met him again, what would I say? There are just some things that words can't express. During this year, I've become so much wiser, yet so much stupider at the same time. It just hasn't been the same without him, like before, it just isn't right.
As I walk home by myself, I reflect on the things that happened before and stop in my steps. What happened? I ask myself, but I knew the answer and I whispered it into the spring rain. "He left, but he understood… he'll be back." The words played around my tongue and cut through the rain.
Why did they say spring rain was refreshing? Why? It wasn't, not to me anyways. It was a nuisance, just water drops falling one after another on the ground. Just another commodity in a worn world. To the far side, I see a couple walking together in the rain. I'm sure they have better things to do than being here. I'm sure I have better things to do than to be here, so why am I here? Why shouldn't I call a limo already?
I knew the answer, or I thought I did. Until he left me, that Jirou. One day he was there, beside me, I started taking it for granted, he was always there. But then, after that phone call, he left, disappeared from my life. I guess you never figure out how precious something is to you until it leaves you.
I twitch at the sound, and turn, could it be? Could it really be? Has he come back, like he said he would? A year has passed, he might've changed. I gaze up at the shafts of golden sunlight now making their way past the dark clouds and gather a bunch of dying raindrops in my hands.
May he, where ever he is, remember me. But then, he always did, that Jirou.
A/N: I wanted to point out that this does not fit into my whole Hyoutei series, this was just me reflecting on stuff and putting it into a story. Hey I was bored! Thx for reading I guess.