FIREFLIES

1

Unchanged by seasons of rain

Like the pulses in the summer's vain

Glittering lights rise towards heaven.

Koki read the lines in a voice from an old sheet of paper. It was filled with creases and the ink was partially washed away. But the neatly written lines were still visible. Giving it one more look, I returned my gaze towards the window of the empty class room. The rain drops beating heavily against the glass made a muffled sound before flowing steadily in thin straight lines. The damp cold air, crept through the cracks and filled the room with a nostalgic scent. The outside world appeared like an oil painting whose colours were slowly melting into each other. Just like a floating scene from the world of dreams.

The silence of the room was broken by a coughing sound. I looked at Koki who was watching me from a corner of his eye placing a hand over his mouth. That was his way of drawing attention of people when they are paying no hid to his pleas.

Want to say something? I asked trying to adjust my glasses.

Where did you get this haiku from? He spoke while turning the paper up and down searching for a name of the writer.

You won't find a name there; I said trying to channel my thoughts back to reality. A friend of mine wrote it when we were in middle school.

They can write these things even in that age?

I think he did.

Was it a boy or girl?

Boy.

Hmmm... So do you know what he was talking about? He asked looking at the paper with a confused look that would have made even Hitler laugh.

What do you think? I said trying to hold back my laughter. When it came to poetry this guy had always been clueless, so I was sure he would never figure it out himself.

I think........ Hmm it's.... he kept on murmuring to himself tapping his foot on the ground whose sound echoed in the vacant room. True warriors never accept defeat indeed. Evening was fast approaching and the room was getting darker.

Let's go or else it will get late. I took the paper from his hand and slid it down my pant pocket. It's about fireflies.

Fireflies, he repeated as he got up from his chair.

While he locked the room, I kept on looking at the old sign hanging on the door. "LITERATURE CLUB", read the bold black kanji carved on the soiled white plate. We were the sole members of it. But ironically neither of us enjoyed literature nor had either of us any intention of improving our literary skills. The only reason we had joined there was not to stand out amongst our classmates as the only students who didn't belong to any club. Even the useless have their pride you know. And the one who gave the idea was Koki himself.

2

I met Koki for the first time in the second month of our high school. It was a fine afternoon and I was relaxing alone on the roof after the cleaning duty when a guy stormed into the peaceful scenario like a kamikaze and stood right in front of me in a pose that reminded me of kamen rider.