The practice didn't go well, as expected. Their minds were still wandering over their missing friend. They had tried, of course, but it was to no avail. Without the bass, none of their songs went well.
Hisashi stared at the seat where Jiro always sat on on every practice, and found it empty. Just yesterday… just yesterday Jiro had been there, sitting on that chair with his bass on his lap, smiling, laughing, making some jokes, practicing with them…
It was empty now, the chair. How life could change in a blink of eye. Strange, to Hisashi, the practice room looked so empty now. Like it missed something. The laughters, the smiles, the musics, the chatters…
None of them existed at that time. There was only soft murmur as Takuro talked to Teru. They were all still shocked over the accident, still reluctantly forcing themselves to try to cope with the fact that for quite some times, they would miss their friend, that they would have to try to practice without the bass.
"This is useless," Takuro sighed. "I think we'll just end up today's practice here. I'll think of a way to get someone fill in Jiro's posistion until he is fit again"
There were murmurs of agreement and they packed their belongings and prepared to go home. They said goodbyes before heading to their own way.
Hisashi sighed as he leant to his car, litting up a cigarette. He was the last to stay. Takuro had gone, probably trying to get his mind off the trouble by working. Teru… he didn't know. He had gone somewhere, maybe back to his house, or maybe to the hospital.
What should he do now? He didn't have anywhere to go to, none that he could think of, except his house that was. Sighing, he decided to take a walk around the block. Who cares if someone noticed him.
He put on his sunglasses and began to walk, tightening his coat to block the biting autumn wind. People walking pass him, bustling around, a perfect picture of Tokyo as a busy city. So lively and full of energy.
It reminded him of Jiro.
Strange, everything that was lively and full of energy always reminded him of the blond bassist.
He walked past a newspaper stand. On every newspaper there was the news about the accident last night. On one newspaper was a big picture of Jiro's heavily damaged car. He stopped momentarily, staring at the picture. He couldn't believe that Jiro was still alive now, eventhough barely.
You really make a headline, Jiro, he thought, somehow bitterly. He stared at another newspaper that had a pic of the smiling Jiro on the front page. If only they knew how he was now… So pale, so lifeless, without any trace of the old Jiro they knew.
He tore is gaze away from the newspaper and continued walking. He had had enough. He had read quite some newspapers and watched the news about the accident and…and he had had enough.
Sometimes he just hated the way some newspaper telling the news. Sometimes they added it with things they made up themselves. Such a bullshit. He remembered Teru threw a newspaper to the garbage bin after he read the news on it that said that Jiro didn't had any chance to survive. That it was only a matter of time before he died.
He could understand what Teru must had felt.
A movement caught his attention and he looked up.
And froze on his spot.
He saw Jiro, standing not so far away in front of him, looking back at him, his mouth slightly opened, as if about to say something.
He saw Jiro.
He blinked his eyes in disbelief, but when he opened it again…Jiro had gone. Just… gone, without any trace that he had been there a moment before.
Hisashi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Forcing his mind to think rationally, he decided that it couldn't be Jiro. Of course it wasn't Jiro, he chidded himself. Jiro was still unconscious in the hospital, only God knows when he would wake up.
After a while, he decided to just go somewhere. Maybe to a place where he could feel better. Drunk? Sounded like a good idea. But then again, getting drunk into oblivion wasn't a very nice thing to do when your friend was in the hospital…
He reached his car and drove away to some random place. Just his habit when he wanted to get his mind off something. In one way to another, Jiro's accident had somehow opened his eyes about some things. That no matter how careful we were while driving, it didn't always mean that we would be safe. There would always another careless person, another careless driver. There would always another unexpected aspect in the road ready to threw us into danger if we weren't very careful.
He stared at the road ahead him.
That life could be so short. That life could change in a matter of seconds.
He had never really thought that he would experience this. He never had any close person involved in a serious accident before this. Before, all the gruesome accidents were like only existed in the television, in another world. Not here, not in his world, not to the person he cared about.
He knew he was being too naïve about this thing, but he couldn't help it.
He caught a movement from the corner of his eyes and, shifting his attention from the road, he glanced at the rear mirror that reflecting the backseat of his car.
And he saw Jiro.
He saw Jiro and at that time, Jiro was looking at his reflection on the rear mirror. As if in a slow motion, Hisashi saw Jiro's hand moved, reaching up to him.
He slammed the brake and the car screeched into halt, as the drivers behind him honked furiously. They yelled angrily at him as the drove pass him.
"Watch what you are doing, you ass!!," one of them cursed loudly as they sped past him.
But Hisashi didn't notice them at all. He felt his body shook as he gripped the steering wheel tightly, cold sweat drenching him. Breathing harshly, he forced himself to stare at the rear mirror.
He still saw Jiro there.
It was like reliving all the horror movies he had watched. Jiro somehow looked unreal. Like there was something different about him. Hisashi couldn't tell what it was that was different about Jiro, but he did feel the chill that ran down his spine.
He forced himself to move, out from his tranfixed state and he turned around.
But he saw no one in the backseat.
He saw *nothing* in the backseat, save for his hat and coat he had carelessly thrown there.
There was no Jiro.
No Jiro at all, not even the trace.
A car behind him honked impatiently and he was snapped out of his transfixed state. He forced his shaking hand to move and he drove again.
He stopped at the roadside not long after. He shut his eyes tightly, leaning his head on the steering wheel. He lit his cigarrete with his still shaking hand, and taking a long, deep drag of it, he forced himself to calm.
God, what was that? He was seeing things! Why did he see it? Why did he keep seeing Jiro? Was it real? Was it really Jiro he had seen? But how could it be possile, knowing that Jiro *was* in the hospital??
Or was he… hallucinating? Was it a… a ghost? Jiro's ghost?? But it couldn't be possible, right? Jiro wasn't dead… Jiro was still alive. It couldn't be…?
"Why does it have to be me?" he whispered tiredly. "Why do I have to see it?"
Hell, he didn't even know what "it" was…
He'd better go home now, he decided. He needed a rest. Maybe after he had a light nap, or a bath, or smoking a pack full, maybe he'd feel better.
Yeah, that was it. He was just too tired.
Taking deep breath, he started driving towards his house.
He just hoped he didn't see any Jiro or whatever it was again.
* * *
He awoke when the sun was setting. He stared almost blankly at the reddish sky outside. He should feel better by now, having had his sleep, but he didn't. Well, maybe yes, physically he was refreshed, but he was feeling… bothered.
He had a dream and it was about Jiro.
Hell, why him? Why Jiro? Even in sleep Jiro came to disturb him.
He didn't remember what kind of dream he had had. He was sure it was about Jiro, but he didn't remember what happened in his dream. What he knew was that it was about Jiro and it left an unsettling feeling in him.
Reluctantly he disentangled himself from the sheets and stood up, leaving the comfort of his bed. Groggily, he walked to the kitchen, intent on having a cup of coffee to make himself comfortable.
All the way making his coffee, he couldn't help but wondering what it all had been about. Seeing Jiro twice today and now dreamt about him… he wondered whether it was somekind of a sign or something.
He leant on the kitchen set, his hot coffee next to him and he lit a cigarette. Coffee and cigarette, they always helped. Well, beer too, but he wasn't in the mood.
Suddenly, as he was taking a deep drag of his cigarrete, something happened. He couldn't really comprehend what was going on, but the there was like… ripples in the air before him as colors blurs and merged into one and… and suddenly, out of nowhere, there was Jiro.
Hisashi stood there, stunned beyond belief, as his shaking hands lost grip of the cigarrete on one hand and the cup on the other hand. The cup fell and crashed the hard floor with a loud noise and broke into pieces and the cofee stained the floor.
He stared at Jiro who was staring back at him, looking just as bewildered as Hisashi was. They stared at each other for some moments, indifferent with their surrounding, and Hisashi tried, oh, how he tried, to find some logic behind all of this.
"…Jiro…?" he finally spoke up, almost tentatively.
Hisashi saw surprise flickered in the other man's luminious brown eyes. "You… can see me…?" Hisashi heard Jiro ask.
'You… can see me…?'
Of course he could see Jiro! Why else… but just then he realized something. Something that made chills running down his spine and caused a strange pang in his heart.
Jiro was… Jiro was… transparent. Hisashi could see the chair behind Jiro *through* Jiro. He could see *through* Jiro.
He was face to face with Jiro's ghost.
"I… you…," Hisashi was at a sudden loss of words. "You're… a ghost…?"
"I… I don't know," Jiro said and Hisashi could see that he was truly confused. "What happened? What happened to me? Do I… have I died?"
Hisashi shook his head. "No, the hospital hasn't called any of us, so that mean you are still alive… at least for now…"
"I'm in the hospital?"
"Yeah, in a deep coma. You don't remember anything about last night?"
Jiro frowned. "What happened last night? I…". And then he fell silent as the memory hit him like a fast train. He remembered the bright light that flooded his wide screen, the loud noise as the car crashed with the truck, and the sickening feeling as the car rolled. "I… the crash…"
Hisashi nodded. "Yeah, you had an accident. You are so lucky you are still alive. Your Honda is almost unidentifiedable anymore".
"Oh my God…," Jiro whispered, covering his face with his hands and Hisashi saw he was trembling lightly. He didn't know before that ghost could tremble too, but Jiro were trembling. That time, added with the fact that he was now transparent looking, Jiro looked so fragile and vurnerable. "I'm… I'm going to die… aren't I?"
Hisashi just wanted to say something like "I don't know". It was easier to say that he didn't know, besides the fact that he really didn't know whether Jiro would survive or not. He wanted to say that Jiro would survive, but he didn't want to give Jiro empty hope when he himself didn't know for sure.
He opened his mouth, about to say that he didn't know, that he wasn't sure, but then, he saw Jiro's eyes, full of fear, of desperation, of confusion… he saw those luminious brown eyes, and he saw the need that was screaming at him to tell him truth… no, maybe not the truth… something to make him feel better… something to assure him.
He looked at Jiro, so unusually pale, broken, vurnerable and confuse, and suddenly, at that time all he wanted to do was to make the blonde feel better, to calm the storm of emotions that was mirrored in those liquid brown depth.
And so he said the first thing that came to his mind, the thing that he knew would make Jiro feel better… at least for now.
"No," he said, his voice surprisingly calm and soothing. "You aren't going to die now, Jiro. You will survive this. You… will be okay"
He wished he were a better liar. A better liar so that Jiro wouldn't be suspicious. But he did see it in Jiro's eyes, after he said those words. He saw the storm calming down, he saw hope and comfort, eventhough barely. Sure, there were still fear and confusion… and there was the unavoidable doubt… but now there were also a new-found calm and hope… and comfort.
And it comforted him too, somehow, the knowledge that he had made Jiro feel better.
His hand reached out to Jiro, in a sudden need to touch him, the transparent figure that was standing in front of him now. Maybe it was out of urge to give more comfort, maybe it was out of curiousity, out of need to feel what it felt to touch him.
"…You will survive… Jiro…"
And when his fingers were about to touch the ghostly fingers of Jiro, just a milimeter away, Jiro suddenly vanished into the air. And he grasped empty air… nothing. He looked, searched around the room… but he was alone now.
There was no trace of Jiro.
He stood alone in his kitchen, his hand still hanging in mid air, and silence engulfed him.
It felt like a dream… was it a dream?
He looked down at his half-burnt cigarette on the floor… and at the broken cup and the coffee that splattered on the floor… and at his outstreched hand… and he knew he wasn't dreaming.
He had met Jiro's ghost. He had talked to Jiro's ghost.
He stared at his outstretched hand… and pulled it back to himself.
He didn't get to feel Jiro.
And somehow, he felt a strange disappointment in his heart.