It began in a place, a city, with buildings and skyscrapers and lights that lit up the night skies. It was not the loveliest area, nor the cleanest, but life there was satisfactory. Birds would chirp their merry songs from time to time, when the weather was warm and the day was gay, and businessmen rushed to their buses awaiting their long work day. But this story is not about the busy businessmen or those bleating birds but a story of three lovers.
Avert your view from the factories, the smoke, the homeless living in the city's grotesque crevices and instead gaze at the train station at the nearest avenue. Look now, what do you see? If I may impose, I see chatty women on cell phones, men with bulky bags, and even among the bunch a high school student or two. Among those students is a very important fellow, a boy of only fifteen, on his way to school. Makoto was his name. He was a handsome young man with eyes the colour of honey and hair as dark as eventide. He wasn't at all the neatest, though, for his tie was not fixed and his hair, ruffled, along with his school uniform. He would often take the train to school and back since he had no other means of transportation. His father lived in another part of the country while his mother was always at work, rarely ever coming home. He had a sister of three, who lived with their father. She would visit occasionally when their mother was in, but alas, it was not often and the only human contact Makoto would have was at a place far away from his smallish apartment, his desolate abode. That place was school.
Today he'd embark on his endeavour, his "mission". Word of a superstition, a "cell phone charm", so it was called, spread itself around the school like an infectious disease. Supposedly, if one were to take a picture of their sweet darling on their cellular phones, have it as their cell phone wallpaper for three weeks (without anyone knowing of course) they would eventually make them theirs. Makoto sighed and motioned his hair away from his eyes. He quickly turned the flash off his phone, preparing for the moment.
And then she made her entrance.
Kotonoha, Kotonoha, Kotonoha. Her name could make its way through his brain and repeat itself over and over and over again, eventually causing his brain to malfunction. She was different, odd, mind-boggling. She was beautiful—no. She was beyond beautiful. She was a masterpiece of gorgeous and quirky and so many other things. The way she would sit so daintily in that school uniform of hers, finding delight in opening a new (usually thick) book every day, were all so marvelous to him. Her dark black hair and warm brown eyes were so inviting. He longed to caress her pale face, wondering if the girl with the skin as white as snow had a touch as cold as ice. He shook his head at this thought. How could a lamb be anything more than but a lamb?
The train was coming to a halt. Makoto questioned and thought and worried and shook. Should I take the picture now? Now? No! No! She'll see! As the train stopped she got up, book in her hand and bag on her shoulder, walked out with her long hair (that fell to her bottom) flowing behind her, swaying in the wind. She paused for a second and looked around…it had seemed as if she dropped something and as Makoto examined her situation he knew it was the time to do what he must do in her state of confusion! Stealthily he hid, behind a steel bar, gazing at her. He pulled out his instrument, this blue flip phone of his, and aimed the shot right at her. Steady now, steady…One, two, three, and—