The Heights

Hayami couldn’t even recognize her own apartment anymore.

The cupboards practically covered up where Passion Games posters used to hang, if they hung there anymore. Her cheap acrylic sofa had been shoved to the corner to make way for a leather couch. There was also the fact all her carefully-curated and tastefully chosen fake plants were straight-up gone.

And to top it off, judging by the sounds of metal clinking, the offender seemed to be in the kitchen, rummaging through her stuff.

Funny thing was, Hayami didn’t own many metal utensils because chopsticks were the more economically-sensible option.

She carefully set her backpack down and crept toward the noise. A man familiar to her was chopping vegetables.

It was the same man Tsumagi had told her was in Osaka just yesterday.

“Oh, Hayami! I… well, I was just waiting for you to come home! Well, surprise!”

“…Uncle Kenji?”

“So you haven’t forgotten me after all…” Kenji splayed his arms wide. “I knew you were my favorite niece for a reason. Come here!”

“But you haven’t called me in years…”

“Oh, you know me. Always on the move. Can barely make time for calling nieces and nephews nowadays. Besides, I didn’t want to interrupt your education at Golden Nugget High!”

“I-It’s called Golden Brooch.”

Kenji dropped his arms. “Oh…! Well, you have to forgive me, I am getting on in years…”

“Why have you moved into my apartment?”

“Ah, you know me. Your old uncle has gotten himself into a bit of a bind again. I am just that kind of klutz.”

Hayami sighed, nodding slowly despite his refusal to play it straight. He was always like this, even when she was younger and stayed at his place. “L-Look, I don’t mind you visiting, but…”

‘Lesson One.’ Akira's voice echoed in her memory. This was a textbook situation to employ it.

“E-Even if y-you are struggling, you should c-contribute to the lease if you plan on staying.”

Kenji gasped. “Oh, Hayami-chan… I… I didn’t think I’d hear that from you. It actually hurts a little bit right here,” he murmured, patting his chest over his heart.

Hayami flinched.

“I dunno,” he said dejectedly. “I guess… I thought we were finally looking out for each other. We’re the last of the Satos in this city. Is that what the world has done to you?”

“Still… I pay for the lease while attending school full-time.”

“And that’s great! That’s amazing. I’m so proud you’ve gotten this far.”

Hayami had volunteered to pay to keep the apartment. Her parents didn't see eye to eye with that kind of thinking. When Grandma died, so did the family’s interest in keeping this place. The only way Hayami could preserve her grandmother’s memory was to shoulder the cost herself.

“But… come on, kid. You gotta help an old, pathetic man like me out. If I were still in my youth, I’d do the same for you! Because that’s what family does. It will only be temporary; I will even pay you back once this all blows over.”

“I just don’t think it’s very fair…”

“Technically,” he interrupted, “you are just paying the lease. It’s not yours to begin with, is it? It’s the family’s! Your parents signed the papers too. I helped your Grandma find this place, you know. I have just as much right as you to be here. After all,” he chuckled, dangling a shiny brass key in front of her.

“Plus, I’ve seen you on the news, Hayami. You and that Akira boy, huh? Those fans of his… they sure do get rabid.”

“They don’t know where I live.”

“Yet. Very soon, they might. You need a strong, masculine hand to keep the vultures away. These people don’t respect women; they never do. And that's exactly why I'm here. Consider my protection… a fair trade for rent.” He laughed at his own joke, though Hayami didn’t smile. “Plus, I can cook, I can clean…”

Kenji’s expression shifted instantly.

“And I can perform your weekly feng-shui rituals.”

“I…”

“You have been neglecting them, haven’t you?”

Hayami swallowed hard.

“I did my research, Uncle,” she defended weakly. “No website said y-you have to cleanse the deceased’s house…”

“It’s an unspoken rule! If you talked to a real Buddhist, you’d know.”

“But… you don’t attend her gravesite at all.”

“Your grandmother was a troubled individual who gave all of the family inheritance—the one your grandfather worked so hard for—to those damn Buddhist cults. Do you want that kind of spiritual rot to pass on to you?”

Kenji slammed the knife down.

“Don’t tell me you still visit her?”

He paled when Hayami didn’t answer him immediately.

“Shame on you, girl. For shame!”

He marched over to his open luggage, rummaging through a pile of clothes until he pulled out a wooden blade covered in red carvings. Hayami had seen it before, but usually hanging on a wall as decoration.

Kenji gripped it like a weapon.

“I have no choice but to purify you.”

He lunged forward, smacking the flat of the wooden blade hard against her shoulder.

“Uncle Kenji, please stop! A-Ahh!”

Kenji was always erratic, passionate to a fault, but not like this!

He struck her arm again, harder this time.

“Your grandma giving away money like that is why you have such bad luck! It's why you're poor! She has bad karma, don't you get it? She’s passing it off onto you!”

He poked the tip of the sword into her chest, pinning her against the wallpaper.

“You are cleaning the grave of a bad person, Hayami. She couldn’t buy her way out of hell, no matter how much hell money you burn for her. And now you’re bringing her rot into our living space!”

Hayami’s heart dropped. Our?!

“Well, you’ve forced my hand. I have to stay here now. I have to supervise you. I don’t want to be the one to break the news to the family that you are perpetrating this… generational curse.”

“Uncle, p-please stop!”

Hayami twisted away to protect her head. She stumbled, her foot catching on her bag. The contents spilled across the floor.

A heavy sketchbook slid out and landed open, revealing a detailed, charcoal sketch of a ball gown.

“What is this?”

“I… It’s for my lessons.”

“I told you to stop focusing on these things.”

“My t-teacher told me to bring it along…” It was true. Akira wanted to draw ‘inspiration’ from her past drawings.

“Well, your teacher is… misguided,” Kenji said flatly. “Your grandmother was obsessed with this frivolity, too. Donating yen to places that didn’t need them, while her kids suffered trying to look for property. Would you like to be as materialistic as her?”

“It’s j-just a hobby.”

“It’s a sickness! It is unsightly for my niece to be dressed so revealingly! Is the Sato name so worthless to you that you are free to drag it through the mud?!” Kenji roared. “If I hadn’t known any better, it’s you who cursed my luck, forcing me to make such a drastic move to this place!”

Kenji snatched the sketchbook up and tossed it into the bin.

“If I see that sketchbook anywhere else but this bin, I’ll know who did it,” Kenji said with finality. “It’s for your own good.”

Hayami breathed out, her hands trembling. Just as Kenji turned back to the kitchen, she forced the words out.

“I am taking lessons from Akira.”

He stopped dead in his tracks.

“He told me to bring it to school.”

It was the first time throughout this whole conversation that she didn’t stutter. As much as she hated to admit it… the thought of having a powerful ally in her corner gave her strength.

Kenji turned slowly. A slow smile spread across his face. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

“It wasn’t r-relevant to our conversation.”

Kenji walked toward the bin and retrieved the sketchbook. He dusted off the cover and handed it back to her gently, as if handling a rare jewel.

“This changes everything, Hayami.”

He began to pace the apartment.

“With you actually interacting substantially with him… and the media depicting you as a couple already…” He placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing just a little too tight. “You need to seize a clearly good opportunity when it presents itself, Hayami-chan.”

Hayami gulped. Was it because their relationship was public that Uncle decided to move here? To capitalize on her relationship? Surely not, given that his spirituality seemed to have possessed a bigger weight.

“We already t-talked about our… s-situation,” Hayami said tepidly. “It’s not like that.”

“Then you need to put in more effort. If you play your cards right, you could help the whole family out.”

“Y-You are scaring me,” she whispered, quietly pulling out her phone.

Kenji saw her eyes dart toward her phone.

“Whoa, whoa! Hayami-chan!”

Her thumb merely trembled over the screen. “He can make you leave.”

“Oh, I know he can! I know!” Kenji stammered, shrinking back into the sofa. “I’m just a bumbling old man, Hayami. It’s a young person’s game, I know that.”

He clutched his chest..

“But… oh, think about it. If he comes down here to forcefully ‘evict’ your own flesh and blood… the consequences…”

He shook his head frantically.

“I’m a sensitive man, Hayami. You know I am. If they drag me out, I’ll cry. I won’t be able to stop myself. And if the media sees that… oh, the stories they will run will be unthinkable.”

He shuddered.

“They twist things so terribly these days. ‘Arrogant rich boy assaults his girlfriend’s doting uncle…’ I don’t want that for him! Not for you either! But I can’t control how pitiful I look sometimes.”

Kenji reached out a shaking hand toward her.

“Do you want to purge your grandmother of her bad karma, Hayami? Do you want her to be stuck down there forever? Suffering in the boiling water because her granddaughter was too proud to save the family she ruined?”

He leaned in close.

“It’s just… I just want what’s best for you. To purge the Sato curse, you have to help us, not burn away hell money. Grandma’s too far gone, too far into debt. You aren’t. And by saving us, you can save her.”

Long after they stopped talking, when Hayami went into her room and tried to finish her homework but failed, when she lay there in bed tossing till she felt her skin melt, and the sun’s rays telling her to get up, to move, to do something, a family phrase rang in her mind constantly:

‘Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s my fault. To be selfish is to invite misfortune.’

\\

With it being the middle of summer, the morning air at the track was remarkably cold.

“For a moment there, I thought you weren’t going to show up.”

Hina stood at the starting line, stretching her hamstrings. She didn't look up as Hayami approached, breathless and fifteen minutes late.

“I… I overslept,” Hayami lied.

Honestly, despite the deranged wake-up time, coming here was strangely comforting. It was the slow mending of a relationship she thought she had lost forever.

“You staying up late gaming again? Your eye bags are not a good look. Tsk tsk.”

“Thanks, Hina. You a-always know just w-what to say.”

Hina clicked her tongue. She reached out and slapped Hayami’s back hard enough to rattle her teeth.

“Don’t worry. We will train those bags out of you.”

Hayami rubbed her spine, wincing. “When did you become like a drill sergeant?”

“You really don’t pay attention, huh?”

Hina stood tall, looking out at the track. Her expression softened, just a fraction.

“I’ve always been this way. But back then... whenever I looked at you, my training went out the window. I was just... angry. But I'm trying to change that.” She turned back to Hayami, her eyes sharper and clearer than ever. “Every day, we are going to train. I don’t want you to half-arse it. We are going for the win.”

She pointed a thumb at Hayami’s chest.

“But more importantly... I want my partner to be able to match me, step by step. I don't want to run alone anymore.”

Hayami wasn’t sure how to feel. She felt small, but also… seen.

“Heh… heh…”

“No takebacks, girl.” Hina crouched into a starting stance. “Let’s run.”

Hayami smiled despite herself.

“L-Let’s.”