Epilogue: I Met an Angel Today. Isn’t That Great!

“I’m home!” Chō called, opening the apartment door. The room was silent as she closed and locked the door behind her. She let Hana off her lead, and the small dog rushed into the darkness of the unlit rooms. Chō followed close behind, leaving a single pair of shoes neatly placed at the door. She didn’t turn on any lights as she navigated the two-bedroom apartment, but she didn’t need to since the large windows let in plenty of natural light. She made her way to the kitchen table, where a note had been laid out.

I’m going to be at work late tonight. There’s Udon and veggies in the fridge.

Kotaro, make sure Chō eats her vegetables and that the laundry is brought in.

Chō, make sure to feed and walk Hana.

Both of you do your homework and get to bed at a reasonable time.

-Mom

Chō quickly drew a line through the “walk Hana” part of the note and took a peek outside to the balcony where the laundry was still hung.

“Hmm, what do you think, Hana?” she asked, looking down at the panting dog sitting at her feet. “Will Oni-chan eat my tomatoes and green peppers if I bring in the laundry?”

“Bark,” Hana replied enthusiastically.

“Well, I have to ask him because you won’t eat it.”

“Grr,”

“Don’t take that tone with me. I don’t like them any more than you do.”

“Yip!”

“Why do I even bother talking with you?” Chō asked, shaking her head. After giggling at her own joke, she set about grabbing her step stool and turning on the water heater. She then grabbed a basket and marched out onto the balcony. In a strained but practiced routine, Chō clumsily snatched the clothes down from the line and stuffed them in the basket before getting on the stool to collect the clothespins that’d remained on the line. She places the basket in her mother’s room and hurries to the room Chō shared with her brother. She opened a small wooden incense tube intricately decorated with Buddhist signs and insignias and took out a small folded note that’d once been sealed with wax. She didn’t bother reading it since she’d long since memorized its contents.

Waking the Shikoku Pilgrimage brought me not a step closer to enlightenment than holding you for the first time

-Dad

Chō placed the note on her desk with care, then shook the case to retrieve the incense sticks, but nothing came out. She increased the angle more and more till it was completely upside down, but still, nothing came out, not even dust.

“Ugh, I thought I had at least one more stick,” Chō bemoaned, setting the case on her desk. She kicked her feet as she leaned back in her chair, allowing her to see her brother’s desk on the opposite side of the room.

“Maybe,” she whispered, standing from her chair. She began opening the drawer and rummaging a bit. No doubt her brother would be irritated that she'd gone through his desk, but the risk was worth it in her mind. Eventually, after rummaging in the very back of his junk drawer, Chō found it. An incense case that had once been identical to hers. Many a scrape, dent, and layer of dust made this one look like an aged family heirloom compared to Chō’s. She opened the case and found a note still sealed with wax on top, with the rest of the space jam-packed with incense.

“He won’t mind if I just borrow one,” Chō said, carefully pulling a stick from the case before replacing the note. She set the case on her brother’s desk, reasoning that if he was going to know she’d gone through his desk, it was better to be honest about it.

With the incense in hand, she returned to the kitchen and carefully made two cups of green tea. Placing the cups and incense on a tray, she carefully makes her way to her mother’s room. Chō slides the door open and closed and places the tray next to the basket. Silent as a church mouse, she takes the Butsudan out from the corner of the room and places it in its proper place of prominence at the head of her mother’s bed.

“Mom, why do you always put him in the corner?” Chō asked the empty room. “Don’t you know if we put him there, we’ll just forget about him?”

Once properly placed, Chō opens the doors, revealing an urn and a picture of a well-dressed man in a grey suit and a fireman's helmet under his arm. Chō lights the stick of incense, rings the bell, and places her hands together in prayer.

“Hi, Daddy,” she says, in a chipper tone, like the one she took with Hana. “Mom and Oni-chan are out, so I figured I’d come to talk to you since Hana’s in a mood. How are you doing? Probably the same as always, I’d guess hehe. I’m doing fine too; I’m gonna start training for the sports festival. I know it’s still a ways away, but I heard this year we’re doing the relay with the whole class, and I don't want to be the one to drag everyone down like last year.” Chō begins taking items out of the basket and neatly folding them one by one, starting with her brother’s clothes.

“Mom and Oni-chan are doing well, too. I overheard Mom talking on the phone about how she should be getting a promotion at work soon. I’m not sure what that means, but it sounds nice. Oh, but don’t think that Oni-chan is up to no good just because he isn’t home yet. He told me he was trying to find a part-time job, so we shouldn’t worry if he comes home a little late. I think that’s really good, even if it does mean I have to wait a lot longer for dinner.” She sneezes and blows her nose on a tissue, then takes another to wipe away the dust that’s gotten in her eyes.

“So, I thought, ‘Why not ask Mom or Oni-chan for cooking lessons?’ That way, I can have dinner waiting for them when they both get home. Mom may not be as good as you were, but she’s gotten a lot better over the last year and-.” She pauses and reaches for another tissue, blowing her nose, before resuming her folding.

“Oh wait… I'll have to wait till after the sports festival so I can train, won’t I? You always said it’s better to do one thing well rather than two things poorly.” Chō looked down at the towel she was folding. She saw that the sides were uneven, and it looked completely different from the ones stored in the closet.

“Heh, guess I should take your advice now. Looks like I still can’t talk to you and fold the laundry at the same time… But the laundry still needs to be folded, so I guess.” *Sniffle* “I guess I should stop talking to you.” *Sniffle* “And focus on what’s in front of me like Mom and Oni-chan are.” *Sniffle* “They keep saying that’s what you’d want… Wherever you are now…” *Sniffle* “If you’re anywhere, that is… Wwwwaaaahhhh!” Chō sobs, burying her face into the towel. She weeps, drenching the towel in tears and snot. Chō pushes her face so deep into the towel that she can barely breathe, sucking in just enough air to keep wailing.

“Oni-chan says you're gone! I asked him what kind of reincarnation you got. And he said he doesn’t believe in that. He doesn’t believe in any of that. He said when we die, we’re just gone. I asked Mom about it, and she said she agreed with him.” Chō keeps crying like that, past the point of turning her face red, past the point of ruining the towel, and even past the point of running out of tears. It isn’t till the scent of incense stops that she peeks out from the towel and sees the stick has completely turned to ash. As she looks up, she clutches the towel into her chest, pressing a hard piece of metal right above her heart. She sniffles one last time and releases the towel, using it to wipe her eyes one last time, and then clears her throat.

“But that’s all fine… I’m fine now because I have this,” Chō says, pulling on the chain around her neck. A small silver cross with three intersecting circles angles from the chain as Chō holds it close to her father’s urn. “Oni-chan and Mom may doubt the afterlife and all that, but I won’t because I met an angel. She saved me from a demon that tried looking like you and took me and Hana away. She scared him away with fire, like you would’ve done, and then gave me this… I don’t know if that was your reincarnation or anything, but I know she came there just to save me, and you sent her somehow… So Mom and Oni-chan can say whatever they like. As long as I have this, I know I’ll be able to see you again.”

Chō places the cross back in her clothes, closes her prayer, and cleans up the ash from the incense before closing the Butsudan, keeping it next to her mother’s bed. Right where it belongs.