Interlude: Looking Glass

Click, clack. Tick, tock.

The sounds of a keyboard clacking and the ticking of an analog clock were all that filled the dark, cold office room Haruki was working in. Oppressive fluorescents drowned out the moonlight filtering in from the half-open blinds covering the window.

Piles of papers were stacked on the table beside him. He wondered about their purpose, since he was already sorting out logistics on the spreadsheet on his computer. So what was the use of all this paperwork? He’d never even touched a pen to sign such things before.

With one last click, his work was sent into cloud storage. He shut down his computer and kicked off from the table, the wheels of his office chair squeaking incessantly. He breathed deep and sighed.

“Finally.”

There were no other humans in the office aside from himself and a single security guard who’d already fallen asleep by the door, waiting for him to finish. Haruki got up and left, nudging the night guard to rouse him, though he really didn’t care if he woke up or not.

His phone lit up and buzzed in his pocket, though he paid it no mind. He marched down the elevator and out the lobby, and approached a young lady his age waiting outside the building’s front door.

“Yo.” Haruki waved.

The girl, whose face was illuminated by the phone in her hands, pocketed it and looked up at Haruki.

“About time.”

There was nothing notable about her face, but Haruki described it as simply “cute” and “charming”. Her frizzy hair reached past her shoulderblades, and curly bangs partially obscured her right eye. The top button of her blouse hung unbuttoned, revealing a single speck of white undergarment and a tiny discolored scar just beneath her collarbone.

“Sorry. Work as usual. You know how it is.”

“Mhm.”

Haruki stared at the girl: Ako. His girlfriend. Sort of. Was it safe to even call her that? They barely shared intimacy, and said intimacy never made it into the bedroom—even during the honeymoon phase of their relationship.

“Still mad?”

“You think?”

“Are you?”

Ako breathed sharply. “Guess.”

“...So we headed out or what?”

“Where to?”

“Pub?”

“Sure.”

Haruki tumbled his hand down his sides, nudging hers. She responded by tugging at his pinky. Her finger was cold, chilled by the autumn night. Though it was nothing compared to the frigidness of their responses.

They walked past a red-light district and trudged down an avenue full of loud, lively izakayas and 24-hour ramen shops. The noise of the nightly crowds only served to make the silence between them even louder.

A hole-in-the-wall caught their eye: a ramen shop whose quiet radiated like the sun in a cloudy sky. Entering the premises, only two other office workers were dining within, two empty countertop chairs waiting for Ako and Haruki as if reserved for them. The smell of ramen ran so thick around the store, they could almost already taste the salt.

Fifteen minutes later, two bowls of ramen were served to them. Then, they began to eat—in silence.

Haruki stole glances at Ako every now and then, watching her slurp the ramen with quiet self-satisfaction. He wanted to talk. Wanted to say something. But what was there to say?

But he also knew—she wanted to do the same.

So he waited. Slurp.

And waited. Slurp.

And waited.

Ako finally spoke. She cleared her throat, then whispered.

“I want to disappear.”

Haruki fought the urge to spit the broth in his mouth. He opted to gulp and swallow quickly, nearly choking on his food.

“Ako? Are you okay?”

Obviously not. But he could at least be performative.

“Of course not.” Ako chewed on her lip. “I just… don’t want to be here anymore.”

The words “disappear” triggered several alarm bells in Haruki’s head. Adding her thought of “not wanting to be here anymore” practically burst the klaxon and called the cops to the scene.

“Ako, you don’t mean—”

“I’m not going to die,” she said softly with reassurance, but then her voice sank again. “I just want to be somewhere far away. Away from all this.”

Haruki glanced up to her. “Did something happen?”

“I quit my job.”

“Why…? We’re not even beyond twenty-five.”

“Because I’m sick of all of it,” Ako muttered, shaking her head. “It’s endless days and endless nights, away from everyone I care about. They say this is all part of belonging to society, and yet, why do I feel more disconnected from all of it than ever?” She looked at Haruki briefly. “Then there’s you… the only person I ever get to see anymore. And look at what’s happening to us.”

“What is happening to us?” he answered in a daze.

“Have you looked in a mirror recently?”

“Yeah? Every morning.”

“You really don’t see it? Because I do. And I’m sure everyone else does, too. Maybe you just… haven’t noticed.”

Haruki ran his fingers over his face, trying to feel anything different. Texture—okay, if maybe a little oily. Shape is fine. Nothing broken.

“Look, Ako. What is it that you really mean? What do you want to do?”

Ako leaned forward, letting her chest hit the countertop, eyes looking up at the ceiling. “Already told you. I want to vanish. Maybe go live in the woods or something,” she said, then stared at Haruki. “And if heavens let us, you come too.”

“What?” Haruki jerked his head. “We can’t just… do that. I have people counting on me right now. Aren’t there any counting on you, too?”

“I’ve let them down already. Quit my job tonight. And besides, screw ‘em. I feel used and worn already. They should’ve taken care of themselves first before thinking of using me as their retirement plan.”

“That’s really harsh.”

“But true,” Ako snapped. “So are you coming or not?”

Haruki’s face scrunched. “Of course not…! Ako—ugh, listen. You can’t just decide to go somewhere and disappear. You won’t be coming back from that. I don’t want that for you, you hear?”

“It’s just… I don’t know.” Tears streamed down her face. Her sobbing attracted the attention of one other salaryman, but the other one couldn’t care less. The ramen shop owner decided he wanted no part in this. “Everything is just so… meaningless. I’m no closer to my dream than I was years ago. Maybe even farther now.”

“The photographer thing?” Haruki averted his gaze and stared holes into the countertop. “I mean, why not start now since you’ve already crossed the Rubicon? Why run away?”

“Because it’s as you said. There are people counting on me. And they’re not gonna let me get away with what I did tonight.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You don’t know them.”

When she turned towards him, his eyes looked down at her chest, and right at the discolored scar hanging below her collarbone. She never told him what that thing was about, but Haruki was starting to get an idea—a dark, ominous idea. And he feared he might be right.

“...I can’t run away, Ako.”

She harumphed. “And what about your dream? When we were starting out, you couldn’t stop talking about your time in aviation. You couldn’t stop talking about planes, aerodynamics, mechanics, all that stuff… and now you just aren’t talking.”

Haruki let out a long sigh. “What’s the use? Life won. I lost. It was a lofty dream. But in life, someone’s gotta win, and someone’s gotta lose. Not all dreams can or deserve to be fulfilled. After all, someone’s gotta do the jobs no one wants to do.”

Ako gawked at him, her teeth gritting and bitter tears flowing down her cheeks. Haruki realized the weight of his words, but stood by that there was no error in them.

“I looked up to your dream, you know?”

She slammed a few hundred yen beside her nearly finished ramen bowl and stormed out of the ramen shop, not sparing even a single glance at Haruki. He followed, but slid the glass door at him.

He stood in front of the glass, and his reflection stared back at him. Studying it, his eyes met the ones on the glass. A thought crossed him:

Is that who I am?

Purple, bruised layered eyebags drooped under his eyes. His cheekbones protruded from malnutrition skin—surely a product of excessive liquor and not enough actual food. His lips curled into a perpetual frown even when he didn’t mean it. When he tried to smile, the curvature of his mouth weighed it down, making his smile appear strained and forced.

This was not Haruki Kanno.

It was someone wearing his skin.

####

Haruki Kanno stood at the edge of the thick, impenetrable forest before him. He held up an umbrella to shield him from the light, plodding rain falling from the heavens.

A framed photo of Ako Nijima looked right back at him, resting on a laurel of chrysanthemums.

Five weeks have passed since Ako Nijima vanished from society.

This forest in the Tokyo countryside was the last location anyone had seen Ako. The locals said she approached the forest but could have sworn she never actually ventured inside, and instead opted to return to her hotel for the remainder of her time in the nearby village.

But at the same time, they claimed that Ako never left the village.

So she just disappeared. Vanished. She was spirited away somewhere far, far from here.

Was her wish granted? If so, by whom?

Is she happy wherever she is now?

Would things have turned out differently if he went along with her?

Could he have stopped her if he tried—just a little harder?

And what about your dream?

Now you just aren’t talking.

It wasn’t his fault. Life played him. Society lied to him. And there was no one there to tell him it wasn’t wrong to chase dreams. Only Ako did—and even she herself had been plagued by the same things that eroded all optimism from his life.

He just knew that he still loved her all the way to the end—for whatever that was worth now.

Footsteps crunched behind Haruki, boots crushing mud and soft gravel.

The footsteps belonged to a man a head taller than him. His facial structure pointed to him as caucasian, though his demeanor also hinted that he’d been living in Japan for far longer than suggested. He looked to be in his fifties, facial hair encircling the corners of his face.

“Your girlfriend?” He spoke in fluent, non-accented vernacular.

“Yeah.”

“You know, I was told you’d be here. Heard from your uncle that you could use some company grieving.”

“Which uncle?” Haruki let out a stiff chuckle.

“The good one.” The man laughed.

“Good,” Haruki said, breathing light.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t be,” Haruki shook his head. “It’s nobody’s fault. At least, nobody in particular. You could say it was everybody’s fault.”

The man stood silent, bowing his head in reverence.

“Say, you know my uncle, but I’ve never actually seen you before. Are you a family friend?”

“Something like that.”

Haruki looked back at Ako’s photo. He closed his eyes, offering one last prayer, before turning back to the man.

“I’m Haruki Kanno. I didn’t catch your name, old man.”

The man offered a smile.

“Just call me Mr. Junk.”