Once upon a time, there had been a bamboo forest, one so dense and treacherous that all who ventured in unprepared would be lost.
At least, Mokou believed there had been one.
She stepped out of the shadow of the imaginary plants and shielded her eyes from the blazing sun. The sky was a pristine bird's-egg blue, immaculate and whole. Although it looked eternal, it wouldn't be long until the sun would trade places with the moon. A blue moon.
She guided herself to an animal trail going across the plain, admiring the silvery clouds of dust that billowed up as she walked. It wasn't long until she saw the only remaining landmark in the vicinity.
The venerable maple stood alone on top of a slight incline, near to a bend in what had once been a great river and was now a muddy stream clogged with algae. Although spring had only just begun, the tree was already in full leaf, its mature green stark against the paleness of its surroundings.
Mokou ascended and stared up at the foliage. The pronged, narrow-lobed leaves and the small, winged fruit were very similar to the maples she recalled from the mists of time. She had once tried asking through gestures and nods what the local humans called these trees, to no avail. The people were more welcoming than most of their ancestors, but every word of their tongue slipped out of her mind like a minnow escaping back into the water.
She placed a palm against the grizzled bark. "I'm back."
The small pyramid of river stones still stood on the ground between the two biggest roots. She straightened back up and took the newest stone from her pocket, still cool from the water it had recently lain in. She placed it among the rest. She offered, if not quite a prayer, at least a thought of regard.
No body that she knew of had actually crumbled to dust beneath this maple. It was merely the right kind of place and the right kind of gesture. Or at least, they were what the tattered remains of her memory told her were the right things. Better than nothing, certainly.
After all, she would have driven herself insane trying to re-discover Keine's real resting place.
"I brought these." She placed a small bundle of creamy yellow flowers before the stones. "I don't think these existed back when you lived. I hope you don't mind."
Had Keine liked flowers in the first place? She had no idea. Nor did she recall what Keine had looked like. If she closed her eyes and strained, she could just about recall Keine's last name and a notion of long pale hair swept back by the wind.
That, and she had been precious to Mokou. That she did remember, would probably always remember. It was what all her other memories of Keine had steadily purified into. A single perfect pearl of recollection, shining with love.
She sat against the trunk. She stretched out her legs and listened to the wind rustling in the leaves above.
"I haven't heard that in a long time."
She closed her eyes. The sun caressed her cheek where the dome of leaves parted.
"It's been quiet lately." She whispered under her breath, barely hearing her own words. "Kaguya and Eirin were fine when I last saw them. I don't think I've seen anyone else around who you would have known."
The wind swept downwards, gently ruffling the flowers by the grave.
"Oh, that's right. I did see Yuuka a few centuries back. Did you ever meet her?" She thought back on that encounter, on Yuuka's faint but still blossoming presence. "She does what we all do now. With considerable grace, at that."
The wind finally abated, but not before summoning clouds to further hide Mokou from the sun.
"The soil in these parts of the world has grown very poor. The humans make due for now. They usually find a way, but this time..." She shook her head. "It's just a hunch. We'll see."
She fell silent. Loose ends tangled at the edges of her mind, too brittle and fleeting to grasp and bring to light.
There was something else she had wished to say, news of someone newly lost and dearly missed. Someone who had chosen death.
It was too late. The memory had shed itself during Mokou's journey, leaving behind only a shadow and a longing. It might come back later. It might not.
Like so many other things, Mokou let it go. "What else?"
She must have dozed off, because when she next opened her eyes, the sun was a lot lower on the horizon.
"Oh, that's right. The thing we discussed last time." It had been winter, uniformly stark, the ground beneath her so icy she could barely sit down. "I've given thought to what you said."
She shook her head. "You were right. I knew you were. And it has been a vestigial emotion for so long. Even so, I'm not sure I can ever let all of it go. I've held it close for so long that it has become engraved in my bones."
The next time she opened her eyes, twilight had set in.
"I know what you'd say. That I should try anyway. That one day, deservedly or not, I might even forgive the person who cracked Iwakasa's head open and drank the elixir."
The wind was harsher now, threatening to scatter the flowers. Mokou huddled closer to the trunk.
"Would you have said such things? I can only guess."
The wind settled down.
"I wonder. Had I already forgiven someone back when I knew you?" It felt like something important enough to remember. But then, how many life-altering revelations had she already forgotten? She, who had endless years ago forgotten her own mother's face?
When the breeze next returned, it carried a summer-like warmth. It rustled the charms in her hair.
"You're right. I'll have to go back to them soon. What else can I do? Become a hermit for all eternity?" She closed her eyes, preparing for the possibility that it might be morning when she kept opened them. "Honestly, that doesn't sound so bad. But once you've reached the end of everything..."
She kept breathing slowly, but further sleep eluded her. She didn't mind. She felt quite comfortable in the maple's embrace. She imagined herself buried within it.
Not even recalling that the grave was illusory did anything to dilute the sensation of holding hands with a ghost.
She tilted her head. "Can I rest with you for a while longer?"
She exhaled. "Thank you."
She drifted off. "I won't forget."
There is a page missing from the red book, its previous location marked by jagged tears.
Sometimes I wonder if my memories of her bear any resemblance to reality.
Some days I'm certain she never existed, that she's an apparition I made up to remind myself that gentleness once existed in this world. I've been meaning to ask Kaguya if she remembers the truth, but I haven't had the guts.
If she did exist, did I ever know the real her? Have I ever actually known anyone, even myself? When I try to remember the exact shadows in her eyes and the flames of her passion when she grilled me for knowledge lost to history, I find her far too idealised to have walked this earth.
Not that I think she was perfect. She could be as strict and pedantic as a twenty-part encyclopedia. And she had such a temper! Catch her on a full moon and say goodbye to your intestinal integrity.
Actually, forget what I said before. She was perfect.
I miss her every day.
In the end, it doesn't matter who we love and how much. They will die, and the atoms of their bodies will scatter to create things entirely unlike them. Even our memories of them will disintegrate, starting before they even leave our sight.
i don't understand it's been so long and i've met a world's worth of people since and yet
On the next intact page, there are only three sentences.
She was called Keine. Keine Kamishirasawa.
That's all.