Coda III

The hospital room waited for Reiko’s first question. As the story progressed, Reiko’s shoulders slumped further and further into her seat. When Fujiko reached the scene on the bridge, Reiko’s head had fallen into her hands.

For some reason, Fujiko knew what the first question would be.

“Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

“I was just a child,” Fujiko answered, “and there were Natsuko’s instructions to consider.”

“The letter she gave you?”

“It was more than a letter,” Fujiko said. “She gave me money for rent, for school. She told me to go live a normal life for ten years. She said she owed me that much.”

“...I see. I guess that’s good.”

“When you told me you had to tried to bring someone back to life, captain,” Mamoru said. “This person… Natsuko. It was her, wasn’t it?”

“When I saw her there on the bridge,” Reiko sighed. “I could only think of one thing. I can bring her back. So that’s what I tried. But Castle Gramarye had already left. There wasn’t nearly enough imaginarium. So it backfired. Ironically, even though she set things in motion, I would’ve died if Natsuko hadn’t intervened.”

“Natsuko did?” Fujiko asked. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Reiko shook her head, “but she implanted the seal that’s on my back. It’s kept me alive all these years. I don’t even know how it works.”

“But if Kazama’s story is to be believed,” Kanna rubbed her chin, “then Natsuko was dead before you arrived on the bridge.”

“She was,” Reiko said. “I’ve never fully understood what happened.”

“There’s still so much I don’t. Like what was all that about you killing her?” Mamoru asked Fujiko. “Looks like our Egregore here handled it for you.”

“No,” Fujiko replied. “She must have said what she said for a reason, and I think the answers are back at the castle. We have to go back now.”

“With all due respect,” Kanna sighed, “this story’s been riveting, but I’d like to remind you that none of you have clearance to approach the castle. It’s off–”

A crack of thunder cut off Kanna’s reproach. The window curtains darkened. A host of clouds swallowed the sky. They forced the afternoon sun into retreat and blanketed the face of Castle Gramarye behind swirling gray billows.

“It looks like Lisa does not intend to wait,” Fang Fang muttered. “I must return to the castle. If we are destined to meet again, then I shall see you.”

Fang Fang bowed, then blinked out of the room.

“What’s happening?” Mamoru asked.

Reiko pushed herself out of bed and approached the windows.

“It looks like our dear Egregore,” Reiko observed, “is calling as much imaginarium back to Sapporo as she can.”

“What for?”

“Well, from the looks of it, she probably intends to trigger an explosion,” she said, “separate Sapporo and its surroundings permanently from The Now.”

“Like when Castle Gramarye first arrived,” Mamoru said.

“Yes, kind of,” Reiko sighed, “except more dramatic, I suppose.”

“I’ll make some calls,” Kanna suggested. “My people need to get ready.”

“Forget it,” Reiko grumbled. “This is not the kind of problem where you can put up some blast shields and pray for the best, and we’ve locked more than half the city’s mages up at this point.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?” Kanna snapped.

“I don’t know,” Reiko shrugged, “but I’ve always wanted to know what it looks like to be phased out of the present.”

“Reiko!”

“I don’t know, okay?” Reiko shouted. “I just let Natsuko’s murderer walk out of here without a scratch, and Fujiko here is telling me that Natsuko planned for me to fail my ascension and live with that for ten years. All that suffering? I couldn’t even explain to you how it felt, how it still feels, and for what, Kanna? For what? For this? How is she any better than Lisa Everest, molding our fates against our wills?”

“It could be she’s not better,” Kanna said, “but I don’t care, Reiko. The past is the past. The Now is now, and it’s right above us. If what you’re saying is true, then a catastrophe is coming to Sapporo, and I will not stand around and do nothing.”

“But I can, can’t I?” Reiko muttered. “Sit back and do nothing. That’s what Natsuko is telling me, isn’t she? That if I wanted, I could simply stay back and forget. Leave this city to whatever fate lies at the end of the imaginarium.”

“And can you?” Kanna asked.

Reiko looked out the window again. To her left were the botanical gardens, where they would stroll after work on occasion. There was a Western-style diner just beyond it. They had shared hamburger steak and croquettes there.

Odori Park ran to the south of the garden. Reiko remembered many Christmases there. She knew that if one ran to its Eastern end, one could walk a few more blocks and browse art galleries and museums. One of them, Reiko couldn’t remember anymore, had this wonderful sake soft serve ice cream. It was good for sharing.

And then, if you went even further east, you ran into the river and the many parks and bridges lined along it. Sometimes, one ran into these strips of untended grass. Reiko lied down there sometimes, next to Natsuko, and the two could just… disappear. A marathon could run through and not a single soul would realize that the two of them had vanished beneath the tall grass.

“I suppose not,” she murmured. “Sure. Whatever, Natsuko. Fuck.”

Reiko turned her back on the window and returned to her bed. Her blazer and slacks had been folded and stacked by the nightstand beside it. Reiko grabbed the collar of her hospital gown and tore it off.

“Dr. Samukawa,” she said. “Discharge me immediately.”

Kanna grinned.

“You can use the window to leave if you want.”

“And you,” Reiko glared at Fujiko. “Do you really know if Natsuko meant for us to go up there?”

“I can’t say,” Fujiko shook her head. “It’s just something that I believe.”

“Fine. When this is all over,” Reiko paused. “When this is all over I’d like to spend some time. Just to talk.”

“What about Kazuo?” Kanna asked. “He told me to inform him when you awoke.”

“You can tell him that Section Eight is doing what we do best, solving magical crimes.”

Reiko stripped off her gown, leaving her with only a white undershirt. She threw her vintage ashen blazer over her and strapped on charcoal slacks and the pair of brown boots sitting beneath the bed.

She took a deep breath. She felt hot. She could feel herself sweating in the midst of winter, the trails of her blazer tinged with orange cinders.

Reiko knew. It was Natsuko’s blessing and curse. She had made Reiko this way. That’s how Reiko knew, that no frigid season, no ceaseless maritime trench, no ocean ravaged at the depths of a lunar sea, and not even an Egregore could withstand the fire that burned eternally in her heart.

“Lock and load, Mamoru,” Reiko said. “Fujiko.”

“Yes, Reiko?”

“Let’s go hunt ourselves a witch.”

20XX - END