In the next few hours, I will be departing, and by the time you read this, I will be gone. I’m sorry to be leaving you with only this note, but there was no other way I could express myself. I never imagined for us to be in this situation. It’s become too difficult now and my time has come. You were everything to me and I just want to thank you from my heart for coloring my life when you did. You made me happy and gave me a purpose. But no matter how fun it was, I have to say goodbye. I hope that one day you can understand and forgive me. I will never forget you. Thank you for your kindness. Look after yourself.
The edge of the letter was worn out, as if it had been read over and over again. There was no reason as to Kei would write a letter like this, and why Sakura received it now. The tone of the letter felt so cold that it angered her to think her long friendship with Kei would wither away to a mere note of kindness. Wasn’t she, Sakura Kasugano, the one who revealed to Kei the true meaning of life beyond the rigid school walls?
“Pffft,” she hissed under her breath. Kei Chitose obviously didn’t care about any of that, and was too afraid to confront Sakura herself. Only a coward would post a letter when she lived walking distance away. Heatedly, Sakura scrunched the letter up in her fist, but then she quickly ironed it out with her fingers.
“Becoming Head Chef in a restaurant in Italy my ass,” Sakura spat in mock laughter. “Her ugly Italian boyfriend probably owns a teeny tiny little café in the middle of nowhere. Let’s see how far she gets when she realizes she doesn’t speak the lingo at all.”
Sakura sniggered at Kei’s sudden ill decision. She was always too timid and obedient to protest against the idea of looking for street fighters in Tokyo during school hours. Apparently, Kei was still submissive if she was made to ditch her one and only friend because she was told to do so.
“She’s not the only one going abroad,” Sakura reminded herself, her face suddenly brightening with the joyful thought of America.
So what if she left school with no qualifications, spending the time instead to fight kids at rival schools? On the contrary, Sakura felt pleased with her efforts. While washing dirty dishes at her dead-end job, she had learned English from a foreign colleague, which helped her secure a paid internship at a publishing house in Los Angeles. Apparently, being a leaflet thrower, or according to her résumé, a ‘Promotions Officer’, had been her ticket to a gleaming international career.
No matter how she had once wished to follow the example of her idol, Ryu, Sakura knew her street fighting life would forever be behind her now.
Squeezing her way through the crowd of teenagers, she attempted to stow the letter into her red backpack. She wanted to get to the very front of the barriers where she could catch all the action. No matter where she turned, she found herself verbally tussled by screaming female fans, all of whom were at least two inches shorter than she was. Blushing, Sakura dipped her head, having noticed a young dumpy girl wearing the same glittery Pac-man t-shirt as hers. She was sure the girl would take no notice, screaming and screaming at top volume for her idols to show themselves. Fleetingly, Sakura looked over her shoulder to see an older-looking girl kiss over a small heart-shaped photo of Fei Long. She gritted her teeth to stop herself from laughing at the ridiculous gesture, but secretly, she too was at the Kyoto Film Studio for the very same reason. While she had been too busy working for cash, Fei Long had become a metaphysical replacement for Ryu, and Sakura was desperate to meet her favorite martial arts actor before leaving Japan for good. Even if Fei had left the street fighting world to become an actor, she still thought he totally kicked ass.
“Come out, Fei Long,” she sang, overpowering the voices of the girls beside her. Then it dawned on her. “Shoot, I didn’t bring anything for him to sign.”
She hurriedly fiddled in her bag, only to find bubblegum, strawberry lip balm, keys, a paper fan, a lifeless cell phone, a wallet and a bullet train pass. She grabbed Kei’s letter, saddened again by her friend’s cold words, and then shrugged. A glossy photo print of Fei would have been better, but this would have to do. While she waited, bouncing on her toes and carried by excitement, the crowd behind her swelled in size, moving like an angry monster fighting for attention. The crowd behind suddenly pushed forward, and the screams echoed to an even more heightened pitch.
“Fei, oh my God, it’s really Fei!” the girl to her left shouted so loudly that Sakura heard the muscles of her throat strain.
Sakura’s already pale face whitened in shock as she watched Fei Long approach the manic mob. Her heart pulsed rapidly and her palms suddenly became sticky. He looked even better in real life than in the movies. He rarely took the sunglasses off outside of work, and without them, his face appeared even more chiseled and distinctive.
“I think I'm going to faint. Catch me, Fei,” fans cried for their god-like idol.
Fei flashed a dazzling smile at girls who swooned. He was used to hearing the same crap yelled at him. He simply glided past them, scribbling a rough ‘F.L’ on the pages.
“FEI, FEI! OVER HERE!” girls screamed hysterically, taken over by excitement as they jumped up and down without retreat. Sakura held her aching ears for a second, then felt her knees go funny.
Oh my God, she thought, stunned, here he comes, here he comes.
In a daze, Sakura held out Kei’s letter for him to sign, with a wide but trembling grin. This was her chance to say something clever to him, perhaps something that could distinguish her from all the other fans. She took a deep breath as her brain hurried to search for the right words. She wanted Fei to remember her forever! But no matter how hard she tried to think, her mouth was silent, disobeying her thoughts. She opened her mouth, and only gasping came out.
Damn it, Sakura cursed in her mind, watching Fei scribble his name and walk away.
“Damn it,” she blurted aloud in frustration as the gap between them widened.
She was still just another Japanese face in the crowd. Her head hung in disappointment. Even without the pressure, she was unable to think of anything. But then she smiled. Kei’s letter was no longer ‘Kei’s letter’. Now it was a piece of history, something cool to show her new colleagues in Los Angeles.
“Oh well,” she shrugged, straining her neck as she tried to catch a sight of Fei Long’s latest squeeze. “Yeah right, some B-movie actress,” Sakura giggled to herself, keenly waiting for her to approach.
Tawnya lost count of how many signatures she scrawled, having realized just how big the crowd actually was. It made her smile to feel wanted by a group of strangers, calling her name for a meaningless squiggle. The anxiety, aches and pains she felt earlier had diminished, and were replaced by a new source of energy and delight that had her overwhelmed.
Tawnya flirted with the cameras and posed with fans when begged. She couldn’t quite understand why people often gawped at her as if she were a ghost, but at least it was better than catching a sight of Rob’s glowering face during work.
Feeling warmth, Tawnya suddenly jumped back startled, pulling back from a hysteric male fan who was touching her.
“Whoa, steady now,” she tried to warn him, but it was too late. The hysterical fan took grip of her leather glove and ripped it away with him into the swarming crowd.
“Finally,” Sakura said, relieved, as Tawnya advanced into the next segment of the mob. She wanted to call out to the actress, unsure of her name but copied the crowd that called at her in cheery unison.
“Tawnya, TAWNYA BLAZE,” Sakura howled, hoping that her empty words would be greeted by a memorable smile.
Sakura felt dazed, simply grinning like an idiot, as the actress stood majestically over her. Tawnya’s stunning Eurasian looks almost intimidated her. The actress’ lashes were thick and lengthy without mascara, her lips were sultry with a dash of bronze, and her tight long ponytail made her cheekbones look high. Sakura thought Tawnya could have been a lipstick model. She smiled at her in awe, ruffling the short boy-cut hair she had worn since high
school.
“Do you have a pen?” the celebrity asked, with a subtle American accent.
Sakura squirmed, once again unable to find her voice. In a scrambled mess, she reached into her bag, dropping her train pass in the process.
“Thanks,” Tawnya mumbled, scribbling her name hurriedly.
Seeing a familiar name scratched onto the actress’ arm, Sakura’s eyes widened in shock. This was just like an omen. From where she was standing, it didn’t look like make-up.
“Holy shit, Ryu-san? It couldn’t be,” Sakura squealed in Japanese, then quickly slapped her mouth shut.
Tawnya smiled at Sakura’s ghost-like face, placing the pen in her unresponsive hands. She turned to walk away, but her draping sleeve was caught. She tugged, then looked over her shoulder. Sakura was gripping onto it tight with both hands, her body hanging over the barrier, unwilling to let go.
Her smile trembled as she said, “Umm, actually, is that Ryu thing another tattoo, ‘cause my best friend is called Ryu too.”
Tawnya frowned, then glanced at Fei who had his back turned to her. She drew in jagged breaths, trying hard to retain her cool while fans flashed their cameras at her. She tugged again but the crazy fan had an iron grip. A mischievous smile rearranged her features. She peered into Sakura’s curious round face.
“Release me, now!” Tawnya warned, her teeth clenched into a threatening smile.
With a harsh pull, Tawnya got the white material away from Sakura’s hands, and in a matter of seconds, she was gone.
“No...friggin’...way,” Sakura said, astounded, ignoring the pushes and shoves of the other fans who were still calling after the stars.
She knew of only one Ryu in her life – her teenage crush, her true idol. If this wasn’t a ‘sign’ to start checking up on how her old friend was doing, she didn’t know what was.
*****
Chapter 8:
THE DATE
Street Fighter: Dream Never Ends Page 9
