4

We returned to the attic room, placing ourselves before the white puzzle.

We’d returned to it over and over again for the past three years. Pieces that seemed almost exactly the same had slowly taken their own individual identities. Even the slightest of differences eventually became the greatest issues when trying to find where one piece fit. All of them interlinked together, forming a single, white rectangle.

In a way, the puzzle was exactly what the two of us needed.

One by one, we managed to find where all of the countless individual pieces belonged, going by instinct and groping our way to the right solution. Perhaps that was what we should have been doing for each other instead. Urakawa-san and I were a lot like that white puzzle. But we had left each other untouched and unguided for a long time. That slab of cardboard was now the only thing that was correctly put together.

We took turns fitting together more and more pieces. The number of remaining pieces was visibly decreasing, and our speed of finding the correct pieces increased in kind. The possibilities would only continue to decrease.

I thought about what it would mean for Urakawa-san to really disappear.

It certainly wasn’t unthinkable. If her substitutions became more frequent in order to maintain consistency, then her disappearing for good was only an extension of that consistency.

She substituted twice two days ago, and three times yesterday. Then once this morning, and once this afternoon. It’s really not out of the question for Urakawa-san to disappear today. No doubt it’s been on her mind.

Would I cry if she disappeared right in front of me?

What would I think if she blinked away before my eyes? How would it feel to wake up the next morning? What would I eat? What music would I listen to? What could make me smile? I had no answers to any of those questions. I couldn’t even begin to imagine it.

“It is your turn,” Urakawa-san said.

I stared at the puzzle, picking up a piece that seemed to fit. Unfortunately, my size estimation was off, and it wouldn’t go in place. I reached for another piece.

“Tsumiki.”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you decide to come here seven years ago?”

“No particular reason. I just wanted to be alone.”

“Why?”

“Well, sometimes I just don’t really wanna see anyone. I’m sure you feel like that sometimes, right?”

“I would say that generally speaking, I do not want to see other people.”

“But you read all those novels.”

“That is why I read novels, to avoid dealing with other people.”

“Well, novels tend to have people in them.” I found a piece that I knew was just right. It slipped naturally into place with the same practiced ease and grace of me slipping through my own room door. “Your turn.”

Urakawa-san carefully checked the shapes of the pieces around her. “But the people in my novels want nothing to do with me. They only move to serve their own goals. I do not have to meet with them face-to-face.”

I felt that I was getting a glimpse into how Urakawa-san saw her human relationships. They were in her field of vision, and she was aware of the existence of those around her. But she was never involved.

In all likelihood, she probably saw me the same way.

“I prefer things that way.” Urakawa-san picked up three pieces, trying to fit each in turn. Only the last one properly locked in place. “It is your turn.”

Seven years. It really had been far too long. Long enough for me to start fooling myself into believing that I could truly understand her.

There was this one time, in the winter.

I had started riding towards the Western house on my bicycle entirely unprompted. I was faster than I had been as an elementary schooler, but it still took a good 30 minutes of pedaling through the cold and the blasting winds. I wanted to see Urakawa-san. I knew she wouldn’t be there, but I kept on pedaling and shivering through the cold nonetheless. Then, I noticed that a light was on in the house.

Urakawa-san’s actually here, I thought. I waited on the roadside for a moment, staring at the Western house. Then I got back on my bike and pedaled home.

I figured that if Urakawa-san had wanted to see me as bad as I wanted to see her, she would’ve contacted me. If she had come all that way and still hadn’t let me know, she probably didn’t want to see me. I didn’t know what other conclusions to draw. I was scared of the notion that I might barge when she wanted to be alone and make her hate me.

Could things have been different had I gone up and knocked on her door that day? What if I had bothered to call the phone number she had given me all those years ago? What if I had told her how I felt about her sooner, at any point before I finally did? Could things have changed? And if those changes were possible in the past, could I reach out with my own hands and make them happen now?

I grabbed a puzzle piece that she had put down a moment ago and placed it next to the piece she had just fit in the puzzle. It slid neatly into place. “I have a favor to ask.”

“What would that be?”

“If we can put each of the last puzzle pieces together without making a single mistake, then please don’t disappear.”

There were 15 puzzle pieces left. Each of them were quite similar in shape, and were difficult to tell apart.

She picked up a piece, turning it around with her fingertips. “I cannot simply make myself disappear at will.”

“Then I want you to believe with all your heart that you don’t want to.”

She spent some time just staring at my face. Then, without answering, she put down a piece of the puzzle.

It slid perfectly into place. She glanced at her fingertips in surprise.

“I gave it some real thought. What it’d be like without you. I tried to be as real with myself as possible. In all honesty, I should have done this sooner,” I admitted.

What it would be like without her. What it was like with her. I should have been thinking ahead.

I gazed intently at the puzzle pieces, trying to see the pattern behind every curve and angle. Still uncertain, I reached for a piece.

“I don’t want you to disappear.”

It might have been a coincidence just how beautifully the piece fit into place.

Urakawa-san took her time, reaching for another piece with palpable trepidation. I felt better watching her. She was trying just as hard as I was to complete the puzzle without making any mistakes.

Before I knew it, the sun was going down. Tinges of dark red light came in from above, stretching our shadows out. The puzzle was almost finished. The lower-right of the puzzle had just enough space for nine more pieces. Then it would be over.

Urakawa-san cautiously filled in another one of those spaces. Eight pieces remained.

The puzzle had started by me placing down the first corner piece. There were an even number of pieces, meaning Urakawa-san would be the one to place the final piece. Her final piece would of course be the one that spent several years at the shrine, waiting to be found. Not that we had discussed that or made it a rule. The piece was given its own special spot, away from the rest.

There was a part of me that felt somewhat empty as we finished the puzzle. Piecing it together had become such a mainstay of my life, and it was difficult to think about losing that part of me.

One by one, the spaces were filled. There were six pieces left, then five.

“It seems that we will accomplish our goal after all,” Urakawa-san said, taking her hand off the puzzle. Four pieces remained. “Tsumiki… if I were a normal person, without all the odd quirks, would our relationship be different?” I wondered if the satisfaction layered in her voice was intentional.

I grabbed my next piece. The number of remaining pieces were quickly decreasing, each of them beginning to look like a young child waiting to be picked up by their mother. In that vein, each of the attached puzzle pieces were holding hands with their family. “I doubt things’d be all that different. Besides, you’re normal anyways.”

She certainly wasn’t a ghost or anything. She was just a normal girl, simple on the surface, but somewhat mysterious and difficult to figure out when you dove into her heart. It took me seven years just to understand those basic facts about her.

“But, what if my parents… hadn’t gotten into the accident? What if I grew up with them here as a family? We would never have met.” Urakawa-san took one of the three remaining pieces, slotting it into the puzzle.

“Who’s to say? We could still have ended up meeting in middle or high school. We could’ve talked with each other after school, maybe in the classroom or on the rooftop.”

“I see. Perhaps that could have happened.”

I placed the 999th piece.

There was only one remaining.

Urakawa-san poked at the final piece with her beautiful fingertips. Once, twice. Then, she picked it up, placing it in the final remaining space. Since the piece had been warped from exposure to the elements, it didn’t fit into the puzzle very smoothly.

“Well, that ending was something of a letdown,” Urakawa-san giggled. “I must admit, my expectations were higher than that. I wondered if completing the puzzle might bring about some miracle of great fortune.”

“Maybe it will. We might just have to wait a little longer and see.”

“That may be so… but I do not think I will be around to witness it.”

She stood up. I stood up beside her.

“I’m getting a headache.”

She always got a headache before shimmering and fading. But there wasn’t supposed to be a past precedent for her to substitute with. On top of that, she had never substituted any farther into the future before.

The sunset sharpened into darker reds. I couldn’t see Urakawa-san’s face any more.

“I would have liked to cut my hair first, but it seems I will not have the time.”

“Your hair?”

“Yes. I always preferred it shorter.”

If that was the case, why bother growing it out? I thought about it, and concluded the reason was likely very simple. If I had realized that reason at any point over the last three years, it would have made things much easier between us. It was almost too late as it was, but it finally struck me.

“Would you… exchange a handshake with me, while it ends?” She held out her right hand.

I gently took it in mine.

“Thank you very much,” Urakawa-san responded, her outline already slightly shimmering.

She tried to let go, but I gripped her hand tightly. Then, I pulled her close and hugged her. It was such a simple action, yet I’d never done it before.

She was so much warmer in my arms than I could have ever imagined.

“What… are you doing?”

“Whenever you substitute, you take what you’re holding with you. I wonder if that applies when you’re hugging someone.”

She trembled in my arms. “But… I won’t be going anywhere this time. I’m going to disappear.”

I shook my head. “I’ve thought this all through.”

“You made a plan to disappear alongside me?”

“No.” That wasn’t going to happen. Three years ago, Urakawa-san witnessed me hugging a girl. Given that I was presently hugging a girl for the first time, it just wouldn’t make sense for us to disappear.

Everything fit together like pieces of a puzzle, finally leading me to a single, lovely conclusion.

“Nobody’s disappearing. Not you, and not me.”

“But… why else would I be shaking so–”

“It’s not going to happen. You’re right here with me.”

It really was that simple.

And yet I had never reached my hand out to Urakawa-san before. I didn’t want to have to go anywhere, so I never took that step. We were both so scared to face each other. So we both waited, hoping the other would draw close. And so we remained apart.

I felt Urakawa-san start crying in my arms. I hugged her closer, bringing my lips to her ear.

“I’m… in love with you.”

In front of my eyes, from behind the Urakawa-san in my arms, a first-year middle school girl appeared. She stared at the 15-year-old Urakawa-san’s lovely black hair, and her lips pulled taut. It was a complicated expression, but I knew she would replace it with a much simpler one before disappearing.

Despite all that, the first-year high schooler Urakawa-san remained within my arms. She was certainly very real, and warm tears flowed down her cheeks.

When she spoke, her voice came out raspy and high-pitched.

“And I, you.”

The setting sun faded away and the night overtook us as I continued to hold her in my arms.

✽

I couldn’t find Urakawa-san in the Western house the following day.

My heart began pounding. Did she… actually disappear? Just before I was going to bolt out and search for her, my cell phone rang in my pocket. Her name was on the display.

“Urakawa-san?”

There was a long, long silence. Then, I heard a tiny, “Yes.”

“Where are you?”

“To tell you the truth, I left for my grandfather’s house early this morning.”

I had never heard her voice over the phone before. It was the only thing that could explain the strange, confused presence that I felt from talking to her.

But regardless, I still asked her my question, gripping the phone tighter. “Why?” I had wanted to spend the day looking for a new puzzle with her.

She spent another long time in silence. Then, I heard her still, small voice.

“I was… too embarrassed to see you again.”

A chuckle escaped me before I could stop it.

That was another new one for me. It didn’t take long to decide that I’d have to chase after her to find out what an embarrassed Urakawa-san might look like.

White Puzzle – END