Goodbye for now

The old, slightly rusted Nissan drove slowly through the courtyard of one house outside Tokyo, stopping right before the back entrance of a traditional Japanese house.

The black-suited yakuza stepped out of the car, scanning the area to make sure no one wandered around the fields surrounding the large property. He motioned the passenger to get up quickly and pulled out keys from his pocket to unlock the building door.

Another young man with teal hair came out and walked up to the other, stopping a few steps away.

"Okay, we will just carry her inside and keep the lights off," Shoji explained quietly, even though there was no one else outside than just the two.

The men picked up the woman's petite body wrapped in white linen and swiftly carried it into the house, hardly making any sound. They lowered her to the wooden floor, after which Shoji locked the door again, ensuring no one else could enter the house, just to make sure.

Natsuo looked around a room that seemed like a regular office and noticed it resembled any typical Japanese apartment. The walls were painted white and the backyard was beautifully maintained with small shrubs and a fishpond. The only thing that seemed odd was the faint smoke smell in the air.

"So, your grandparents live here and burn bodies for a living?" he asked, trying to have a conversation to distract himself from the pain he was feeling. He observed family pictures on the oak table, noticing a photo of young Shoji and a woman who looked like his mother, smiling in the middle of the frame.

"Well yes, it's for people who want intimate memorials. This is just the crematory, their home is next door. I sometimes help out, so I have the keys," the yakuza answered as he glanced at his acquaintance.

"I will get everything ready. You can wait here if you like."

Natsuo stood still, looking at his friend's lifeless body on the floor. Everything seemed so surreal, like a horrible dream with no end in sight.

He crouched down and searched for Ayumi's cold hand beneath the cloth. His fingers trembled as he touched her skin, but he needed to hold her somehow, resenting the fact that she was lying there waiting to be disposed of.

Shoji soon returned from the house depths, looking the other man with sad eyes.

"Let's start."

They moved Ayumi into a chamber in the heart of the building. There was a metallic furnace in the middle of the room, reflecting the light from the candles the young yakuza had lit around the space. Under a window at the far end was an altar decorated with synthetic flowers and incense sticks. Two statues of Japanese gods stood on either side of the shrine, staring solemnly with their downcast eyes.

Shoji had placed a cardboard casket on the table that would take the body inside the furnace. He opened the lid and waved for the other one to help him move the woman into the coffin.

Natsuo nodded, his eyes brimming with sudden tears as they carefully picked her up and placed her in the box. He paused for a moment and brushed her pale cheeks with his trembling fingers.

His throat was tight, but he had to say goodbye.

"Thank you for never judging me... it really meant a lot to me. I won't forget that."

He tried to swallow the knot in his throat, but it was too painful. He reached out and squeezed her hand one last time, gritting his teeth as he tried to fight back his tears.

"Thank you for... making me realize things and... getting me together with him..."

There were so many things he would have liked to say - he wanted to thank her for always being there for him, for believing in him, for helping him grow - but also for all the light-hearted moments they had, the laughter, the jokes, the silly conversations. All of it was so precious to him.

Natsuo stepped back and wiped his eyes, trying to collect himself. He looked at her one last time, then bowed his head.

"Goodbye for now," he whispered.

Shoji gently placed the lid over the cardboard coffin, closing it quietly. He ignited the furnace, letting the flames lick the oven's metal walls.

"Go ahead, press it once you are ready," he said as he pointed towards a button attached to the table.

Natsuo breathed deeply, not sure he would ever be ready, but forced himself to do it. He watched as the table moved, slowly sliding his friend's body into the bright red fire.

(A while later)

The two men sat at the small, round table set up for grieving customers while they waited for their loved one's cremation to be completed. Outside, the sky was already blushing pink and the air was alive with chirping birds, leaving the sorrow-filled night behind.

Natsuo stared at the dark coffee he had been given. They had talked about Ayumi for the past hour and now silence had settled between them.

"I know it's not my business, but..." Shoji started nervously twirling an empty mug in his hands.

"Are you and Brother Takuya a c-couple? Like... lo-lovers?"

Natsuo slowly nodded his head - at that moment, lying about it no longer mattered. He had been dreading the time he would have to confess such a thing to other people, but just then, a feeling like that paled in comparison to the immense grief inside him.

Shoji's eyes were wide for a second before he broke into a wide smile.

"I see. I'm happy f-for you. I'm sorry for asking such a personal thing," he said, bowing his head to apologize.

"So, how is your mom?" Natsuo asked, glancing at the other man, whose expression darkened even more. He wrapped his fingers around the porcelain mug and watched the sun rise over the grasslands.

"She can't be saved anymore, but thanks to Brother Takuya's money, she will have more time. She, just like me, is very grateful for it... I couldn't have done it without him..."

A faint beeping sound came from the crematorium. Shoji stood up, wiping his eyes with the palm of his hand, and signaled for Natsuo to follow.

"It's done."

Just as the young man was about to walk after the other person, a knock at the door froze them both. The two exchanged surprised looks, before the yakuza gestured for his associate to hide behind the large curtain by the window.