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“I miss you, Kenji. Can you hear me? I’m only a hop, skip and a jump away…”

\\

Today was the six-month anniversary of Hana's passing.

I lay in the dark of our bedroom the whole morning of it. Feeling rather pathetic, I resolved to do something useful and went to the local florist.

When I got to her gravesite, I realized I'd bought chrysanthemums.

Even after all my brooding this morning, I still only thought of a specific version of Hana—a version of her when we first met. It was like the person she eventually became was somehow harder to hold, and I'd rather hold the easier one.

After her best friend's betrayal, chrysanthemums had changed meaning for her. She never explained it, and I never broached the topic. I must have thought it was easier for my pleasure to not ask.

I was home now. The flowers were in the bin.

I sat down and started playing Hana's piano. I picked it up a few months ago. Nobody ever told me how hard coordinating your fingers was.

On principle, I refuse to pay for a tutor. I was a grown man. I taught myself this far and I'm not about to sit across from some conservatorium kid and have them correct my fingering like I'm five years old. I can figure it out.

I will figure it out.

"What in the ever-loving hell is that noise?"

Hey, I’m not playing that bad—

I paused.

I was relatively certain that voice didn't come from inside my head this time. In fact, I was pretty sure that voice came from outside my front door. 

I knew that voice from anywhere.

I walked slowly and silently toward my peephole and leaned in.

Huh. Sachi was outside my apartment. She looked annoyed for some reason.

Annoyed Sachi was a Class A Kaiju and a danger to the public.

"I can see your shadow under the door, y’know,” she muttered.

What a weird thing to notice.

Sighing, I opened it.

I couldn't do anything but stand there.

“But… why?”

Sachi was holding approximately two of her own head's worth of bread. Savory and sweet, fillings of all kinds, from airy to hearty.

From my favorite bakery, too.

She had the audacity to look smug about my stunned silence.

“It’s supposed to be “thank you,” you klutz?”

I opened my mouth, thinking and willing something to say, only to come up with zilch.

Stupid brainfog. I used to run circles around Sachi socially. My favorite pastime was painting her face red with the power of my voice. She'd sputter and go pink and call me insufferable.

The times are a’changin.

Defeated, I resolved to say, “Thank you, great S—”

“Come here, you.”

I was enveloped by a great warmth. Sachi’s hair smelled like the bakery. 

"Look," I said, somewhat muffled with my face on her hair. "I appreciate it and all, but now I have to get you something back equally as generous. I didn't exactly ask for this."

“Wow, you have to ask for gifts? That’s saaaad.” She shifted the bread so it didn't immediately fall sideways. “Now can you let me in? I forgot my jacket.”

My eyes widened.

“Uhh… inside’s complicated right now, gimme two minutes.”

“Oh my god, I’m not going to judge you.”

Before I could say anything she practically shoved me aside and waltzed in.

Sachi stopped walking.

She was totally judging.

How did I know?

She wordlessly started on the dirty dishes.

\\

Our clock ticked weirdly.

Even with Sachi sitting opposite me, all I could think about was this cheap plastic thing on the wall. I'd sworn to Hana we'd replace it. A proper one; wood maybe—something that didn't look like it came free with the apartment.

Hana was always the more money-minded of the two of us, but even she agreed the clock was an embarrassment.

This one was late by point-one seconds. Yes, we calculated. Every minute, sixty point-one seconds. How does a clock even manage that?

"The grandma by the shop has been very lonely lately, you know."

I was sipping tea across from Sachi. It was good tea. She'd made it without asking, which was very her.

"She's asking me of all people where you've been. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Damn it all. Sachi was simply too good. I hadn't done anything with her in months, let alone for her. Why would she still bother coming here?

I had to get better first. I had to work on myself, had to get back to some version of okay before I could—

"KENJI!"

I blinked. "What, what?" Did I spill tea on myself?

"We were discussing the psychological damage you've inflicted upon Mrs. Toro."

I took a second to collect myself, then smirked a little. "Well, it's a tough economy. Can't afford to eat out."

"Her artisan bread's four hundred yen. Each."

"Clearly you're not being socially conscious enough."

"You're such a loser."

Sachi looked at me for a moment.

"You look like shit," she said quietly. "I hadn’t registered it yet, but damn."

"Thank you, I really needed to hear that."

"When did you last sleep properly?"

"Fine as I can be… given the circumstances.”

Silence reigned.

"I didn’t mean it like that,” she quietly said.

“Of course you didn’t.” 

I took a sip before closing my eyes. 

It was now or never. 

“You know… what those scientists have been saying on TV? For people like me?”

“OK, but like, we’re in the 2020s now. I’m gonna need a run down.”

“What people like me have been hearing. In Fukuoka specifically.”

The gears in Sachi’s brain turned a little bit. Then she widened her eyes. “That noise… calling... whatever shit’s real?”

"Not so loud," I muttered. "The neighbors might hear."

Sachi glared at me. "I am being quiet, you dickhead."

I smirked at my small victory. “Now imagine hearing that same thing, every night. And it’s your girlfriend making that noise.” 

I chuckled a bit as I said it out loud. Who wouldn’t? Don't I know how stupid this sounded?

She blew out a long breath. “Man, I need time to process that…”

“...You don’t believe me, do you?”

"Oh, pff, come on, please." Sachi leaned forward. "You know I don't buy the mass psychosis line the talking heads are pushing. Multiple people who don't know each other, now you—all saying the same thing? I'm inclined to believe it. You’re not crazy. You’re not.”

I scoffed. “You brought it up, not me.”

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

Sachi shifted in her seat.

I frowned. “What’s up?”

“It’s just… related to that topic, actually." She looked into her tea. "You probably figured out why I’m here by now.”

“Hana.”

The clock ticked.

“What about her?” I asked eventually.

"I just—she is… was… my friend too. Ever since primary school. And I know I didn't know her the way you did. But she wouldn't want you avoiding everyone, would she?"

I looked at the clock on the wall.

“I didn’t know her well enough.”

“None of us did. But what I’m saying is…”

I stood up. “Do we have to do this right now?”

Sachi started.

“Nothing’s wrong with me, okay? You don’t need to treat me differently. Can't we just go back to normal? Can't anyone just be normal around me anymore?"

I looked back at the clock.

"It’s getting late,” I remarked.

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Don’t you have a bus to catch?”

“I… do.”

Sachi sat up and fetched her scarf.

None of us said anything as she tied her shoelaces.

She stood up and opened the apartment door. 

Just before she left, however... "Yo, asshole."

"Yeah?"

"Just... call me, if you need," she said. “Whenever, wherever.”

"Sure."

She looked at me for a moment. Looked unsure. Strained, almost. She decided against saying anything else. Finally she closed the door behind her.

I sat back down at the table.

It had started so well.

We'd talked about nothing at all, in the end.

\\

It was when I felt Hana’s soft, delicate fingers on my cheeks that I knew I was in a dream.

I used the bathroom, drank water to wet my chapped lips, and tried to go back to sleep.

I failed. Hah. Starting to realize I can't sleep anymore without her snores.

This Calling was an awful replacement. Always loudest in this part of the night.

So I said to hell with blue screens and opened my phone.

I tried texting Sachi to apologize for... well, everything. Yet, the words wouldn't come. 

I opened my browser instead. Like a loser.

Search bar: grief calling Fukuoka mountainside - how get rid of please

I scrolled and scrolled. Blogs, more blogs. 

Eventually, I found a forum thread. Of course, the search engine was in on the joke as well, going by how it recommended a forum that I wasn’t subscribed to.

But I was glad these tech billionaires had access to my cookies this time, because, well, you know what they said about cats and curiosity.

It turned out to be a post on the shorter side.

Post title: Calling any and all willing expeditioners (62F)

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, you shouldn’t be here. To those that do, please read on.

Preliminary search of the Nijofukui area—the very source—this coming Saturday. <location name and GPS number> Would welcome any company for this poor old lady. Serious inquiries only. I bake damn good snacks.

I stared at that last line for a while.

Then I typed a reply.

High time I gave this Calling business a piece of my mind.