/jp/ - Otaku Culture

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Life is precious.

I, Chen—…—made sure to hammer that into Ms. Reimu's head. I don't know if she still wants to commit suicide, but I like to think my support should hold her back enough for her to seek help. But no matter what we do—no amount of knitted scarves, words, or hugs—nothing can stop death.

Autumn—as all things—is dying, patches of snow visible throughout the fake shrine. I sit silently on a tree branch, 30ft off the ground, alone… But not truly.

Glassy eyes struggle to move down, a small ember of hope that this is not happening; it’s all a bad dream… But what is meant to be cannot be changed. Flan, the spider, treads weakly on my palms, not an ounce of the usual energy or curiosity backing her movements. My eyes fill with water, mouth pursed, and I look up at the clouds, tears streaming once more.

Flan is dying, having reached the natural end of her life cycle… and there's nothing I can do but hold her, my thumb gently caressing what many perceive as a dangerous, mindless arachnid. She stays put, calm and docile, and shutting my eyes only increases the strength of the tears.

… It's not fair. It's not. Why do I get to live 1000, 2000 years, but this little spider only a year? Who decided things should be like this?! It shouldn't be… It's not fair, it's not—Ms. Reimu said alcoholism has extensively deteriorated her body, and she won't live as long as other humans…—Are her experiences of life seen as meaningless to the point she deserves only four seasons?! It's not fair! My body shakes, I open my eyes, but nothing has changed; she's still weak, her movements slowing down—Mr. Anon… he's already 40. That's half a human's life—and it's so, so very hard—

A hand reaches my back, and I don't need to open my eyes to know it's him. I do it anyway, and the look in his eyes hurts—compassion, empathy. Understanding. Love.

"… It was good while it lasted, wasn't it?" He has a glass environment by his side containing her eggs, where they'll be able to hatch safely before being returned to nature. "We have many fun memories together." He smiles, a finger poking Flan's abdomen. Normally she'd have reacted, but she kept still, apparently not having the strength to move anymore—her eyes on the environment.

"It could've lasted more…" I lean on his shoulder, voice cracking, eyes never leaving the dying spider. "It’s not fair…" He doesn't say anything, free hand patting my head. "… I'll outlast you, Ms. Reimu, Ms. Suzu… Won’t I? It's not fair." My tears thicken, and his hand on my head is so soft it hurts.

"No, it's not. And yes, you will… Yet, you'll remember all of us, right?" I slowly nod, feeling Flan's heart slowing down by the second, her body relaxing on my palm, eyes on her precious eggs. God… My heart… I want to laugh—why do I want to laugh? My heart is tearing apart. “That's enough for me. When your long life ends, and we meet again in heaven—or whatever—I'll want to hear everything! Be sad stories, happy stories, your marriage, your children, your battles, everything you ate, puked, and more and more! Because that's the meaning of a long life like yours, isn't it? To appreciate each moment to the fullest, so when we meet again on the other side, our conversations never get boring!" And he's laughing, hugging me tight—

—and he was also crying. It was thin, unlike my thick tears, but they were there, his side hug shaking a bit.

It meant the world to me.

…

… Flan's legs curled up suddenly. I looked at her, a confused, trembling smile rising, ears perked up, tails down. Flan died looking at her children, knowing they’ll have a future.

I laughed, head dizzy with the tears, and clutched her body to my heart, where the many memories we made reside.

Mr. Anon now hugs me with his two strong arms, and the cold air is forgotten, my face red with tears, our laughs blending to create a symphony that echoes through the forest. It's a funeral, but not one of sad, instead of happy memories. "I-I'll… never forget you, Ms. Reimu, Ms. Suzu, Ran, Yukari and, and…" I manage to say, clutching his body. "And I'll tell so many cool stories, we'll be able to write ten billion books!"

Mr. Anon nods frantically, giggling, "Only ten billion?! Too low! That's nothing compared to the number of stars in the sky! We'll write a book for each of them; what do you say?!"

"A BOOK FOR EACH OF THEM!"

"THAT'S THE SPIRIT, MY BAKA-NEKO!" His strong hand messes my hair to no end, and my green hat falls from my head.

I pay no mind.

We go on laughing in our hug, warmth against the coming of the season of death, and I can hear happiness coursing through his body. Later, by the torii gate, we bury Flan, the spider, her beautiful golden silk adorning the small, polished rocks that demarcate her place of rest. We pray before returning to the shrine holding hands, and I decide that the first of the quinquazatrillion books I'll write for each star in the sky will be a story about the life and death of an unknown little spider.