Goodbye Pisces

"You were my everything. Which, upon reflection, was probably the problem."
- A Softer World




Twenty minutes to takeoff and he's not coming.

Sakura hasn't stopped hoping. She cranes her neck and looks around, trying to spot any familiar face with golden hair and green eyes among the sea of people going around the terminal. No one vaguely recognizable. She checks her watch. It had been an hour since she texted him, a short note telling him that she'd be on the plane for Tokyo soon. Until now, she has no clear idea why she did that. It's been two weeks since they broke up; he probably wouldn't even bother anymore if she'd left or not, though he knows. Yet here she is, standing alone in the middle of the boarding gate at Heathrow Terminal 5, still looking to see if he'd appear.

Eighteen minutes to takeoff.

Funny thing, this waiting is. It reminds her of the times that he would wait outside her apartment door, a bouquet of red roses in his hand, to take her out on a date to a local restaurant or the park or some other nice place he wanted to take her. It reminds her of the times she would wait patiently as he tried to write his name and her name and other words in katakana and hiragana, cursing under his breath whenever he made a mistake and causing her to giggle. It reminds her of the time they stood before the artifacts on display in that museum, and how she marvelled in particular at one of the neck rings and its intricate design. It reminds her of the time when they went to watch Harry Potter 7 Part 2, and when it ended she caught him tearing up and she teased him as he turned red and tried (failed) to deny his affection for the series. It reminds her of the time when, one spring day, he suddenly kissed her, and she had been so shocked and embarrassed by the gesture that it took her several days before she finally returned it. So many other things flash through her memory – their first date as a couple, meeting his siblings, her first episode of that strange sci-fi show he liked a lot, accompanying him on some job interviews, sharing a bed for the first time, sleeping with him for the first time (the thought still makes her stiffen and go red), telling him about her life in Nagoya with her brother Kiku before moving to London at her aunt's request (and how she sometimes longed to go back), those times when they held hands – all these come back to her and she is plagued by nostalgia and sadness. She checks the time. The voiceover speaks.

Fifteen minutes to takeoff.

Where did it all go wrong? Sakura knows it's useless to dwell on it, yet she does anyway. She tries to remember all the things that led to the eventual separation. If anything, they began to see each other less. Life became much busier, with him getting a job at Westminster and her working extra shifts at her aunt's restaurant after one of the other employees got married and moved away. It seemed okay at first – he came home every weekend to be with her, bringing flowers; and during work days they kept contact through texts and phone calls. But as time went on the enthusiasm began to wear off. He still came home on the weekends, but there were no flowers to be found; the phone calls and texts became less as well. Not that Sakura minded though, she was just content they could spend time together.

And then they began having arguments. They were mostly over very trivial things, like someone accidentally breaking something or the water bill, but they would later escalate into very hard-hitting criticisms from both sides like 'stop being so stubborn!' or 'you're so inconsiderate!'. Their fights were still rather polite and levelled compared to most other people's fights, and there was no violence; but the pain caused by their words was still there. There were some fights that were so intense they wouldn't even speak to each other for some time afterwards. After these arguments Sakura would feel very guilty, always apologizing first, and he would feel guilty and apologize too. Then the cycle would repeat. An air of constant exhaustion and guilt eventually surrounded them every time they were together, and though she still wanted his company she sometimes found herself wishing it would end.

She just didn't expect it to come true so suddenly. It was a warm Saturday morning, and she noticed his unsure expression like he was making a difficult decision – it worried her greatly, though she didn't show it. After a long and awkward silence between them, he decided he finally had enough.

"Sakura . . ."

"Arthur-san?"

"I, uh . . . I don't think we can do this anymore."

"W-what?"

He continued talking about their relationship, stumbling over his words and speaking unsurely as he did – they had a good time and good memories, the way this is going isn't very good, he was just feeling very tired about everything – and soon it became clear to her what he was trying to say.

". . . I see."

"I'm so sorry, love. Really, I am, it's just . . ."

"No, Arthur-san. I understand."

And hours later, he had his things packed, and with a last quiet apology and an awkward kiss planted on her forehead, he left. After one year and two months. Sakura remembers, and her heart sinks. The voiceover speaks.

Twelve minutes to takeoff.

For the following days after Arthur left Sakura kept a stoic front. She never let herself cry or vent out any anger, she was much too mature for that. She continued to go to work, tried her best to act like her normal, quiet self. She didn't tell her aunt or any of her co-workers about what happened – she wouldn't even tell Kiku over the phone when he called, though he knew of their relationship. If anyone asked her if she was feeling okay or if something was bothering her (the others must've noticed something a little bit off), she just brushed off all questions with a smile and a polite yes. Maybe it was a sense of pride, or maybe she just didn't want to embarrass herself, she isn't so sure. Over a week she had given the illusion of complete normalcy, as if she endured no such breakup, or at least didn't let it get to her that much.

It couldn't be any farther from the truth. Though she never admitted it to anyone, not even to herself, she missed Arthur. The apartment felt empty without him. She looked over the papers he practiced hiragana and katakana on, which he left behind – she could still read their names on it. She wanted to talk to him, whether about Celtic neck rings or Harry Potter or sci-fi shows or his little brother's grades or whatever else they could talk about. She missed his opinions and his tsundere-ness. As stupid as it sounds, she even missed their arguments. Eventually she succumbed (hesitantly) to her need to talk to him and began texting him again, though only sporadically. Inside she wondered if it was the right thing to do, or if she should've bothered to maintain contact with him in the first place. She texted Arthur as if he was a friend she wasn't very close to, or an acquaintance. And he replied in the same way.  So they remained friends, sort-of. Maybe. Sakura can't tell what they really are now.

Maybe I should've just let Arthur-san be, she thinks. It's been two weeks now, and like he said, they had a good run. Maybe she should just forget about everything and let their connections die at the airport. This was the last time she would see any part of London, anyway. It came to Sakura over the course of last week that she wanted to return home to Nagoya. She had been thinking over her life for the past two years some days after the breakup, and it occurred to her that it was two years since she last saw her brother and that she really wanted to see him, not just hear his voice over the phone. She also thought that the cherry blossoms would be in full bloom then, and she missed seeing them too. Her homesickness had increased day by day since the breakup, and by Thursday her bags were packed, her savings collected and her plane ticket purchased.

"You told Oba-san you were leaving?," Kiku asked her, when she called him to say that she was flying for Tokyo the next day.

"I already quit the restaurant earlier. She just gave me transport fare, and she wished me good luck, that's all. The others did, too."

"What about Arthur-san? Have you told him?"

There was a moment of silence, and it didn't take Kiku long to put two and two together.

" . . . Oh. I'm sorry, Sakuranee-san . . ."

"Ah, iie, it's alright Kiku-kun. I'm okay now, really."

After they had said their goodbyes and she hung up, Sakura thought about the conversation and Kiku suddenly mentioning Arthur and realized that she didn't tell him yet. She thought about what she should do, and after a few qualms with herself she went and dialled her ex up. Surely as her friend he would have to know, right? It's not like she wanted him to know so that he'd ask her to stay or anything. The phone conversation was short, polite and a bit awkward, maybe a bit forced even. She told him that she was going back to Japan tomorrow, and was probably staying for good. She told him she missed her brother and the cherry blossoms. She never told him she still loved him.

"Oh, really?. . . What time will you go?"

"My plane leaves at eleven."

"I-I see."

They talked about some small things afterward – his brother was taking summer school, the weather this morning was shabby, she bought some cookies as a presento for Kiku, the newest season of that sci-fi show will premier next month. Afterward Arthur mumbled 'see you', and they hung up. Sakura never felt so devastated afterwards.

Ten minutes to takeoff.

Maybe she should've just left it at that. Maybe it would've been for the best that she just figured he wouldn't bother with her after that phone call and she just wait patiently until time of departure came. But when she checked into Hearthrow Airport three hours ago and she had looked around at all the people the terminal coming and going it then sank in that the second she boarded that plane she was never going to see him again. And when she had gone through security check and stopped to have breakfast at one of the airport's restaurants – the same one where they first met, when she asked him for directions to the main city and he told her about other destinations and offered to show her around – the realization hammered harder and harder into her mind until she got to her boarding gate. And once she was at the boarding gate the true weight of the realization hit and Sakura found herself lost and confused as to what to do. The boarding gate remained busy as she wrestled with herself, people coming and going around her . . . And after several minutes' uncertainties, she didn't bother to stop herself from getting her cellphone out.

The text itself was very short and to the point. All it said was that she was already at Heathrow Terminal 5, at the boarding gate for the Tokyo-Haneda flight. She didn't request Arthur directly to come and see her off, though maybe that's really what she wanted. Maybe it's still what she really wants. Maybe she does want him to be with her in her last few minutes in his country, to say goodbye properly because then maybe the feeling of heaviness in her chest would be lifted and she wouldn't have second thoughts about leaving and she wouldn't be so confused anymore as to why she was still missing him and why it seems like she still loves him when she shouldn't. Maybe if he came she could finally stop texting him, finally stop remembering those times with him, finally just stop thinking about him. An hour and thirteen minutes had passed since that text now, and Arthur isn't answering. But Sakura hasn't stopped hoping. She still stands in the middle of the boarding gate, glancing at her watch, looking and trying to find him among the others. For her confusion and her conflicted feelings, she keeps searching and hoping . . .

Suddenly her phone beeps. It's a text message. Sakura quickly looks at the sender's name.  Arthur Kirkland, it reads. He's finally responded.

Oh ok. I hope you have a safe trip. Good luck in Nagoya.

The phone trembles slightly in Sakura's hand. She keeps staring at the text for what seems to be forever. Inside she can feel something breaking, and all doubts and uncertainties are dashed and replaced with a dull pain in her chest. The busy terminal gate seems to disappear around her. Only one thing remains in her mind.

It takes a lot of willpower for her to text back a reply.

Thank you Arthur-san. Good luck to you as well.

And lastly, with a sense of bitterness and reluctance:

Goodbye.

The text sends, and Sakura fumbles as she returns her phone in her bag. To her surprise her face is wet, and she immediately wipes the tears with her sleeve so that no one sees them. The voiceover speaks. Five minutes to takeoff.

Five minutes to takeoff and he's not coming.

It's then that Sakura remembers that she needs to go. She gathers her luggage, and with one last glance around the terminal gate for a familiar face (there is none), she goes to get her boarding pass.




Sakura is seated by a window on the plane bound for Haneda, looking out as they are lifted off and launched into flight. She watches as little by little London and eventually the British Isles disappear from view, and for a moment remembers the man she loves – loved – that she's left behind. She lies back on her seat and closes her eyes, thinking of roses. When she opens them again minutes later she looks out the window again; only the ocean is in view.