Childhood Friends and the Passing Time

A thin string of smoke rose from the small pot between Makoto and me.

I had led both Makoto and me just a few clicks away from the shrine to light the yokai incense. We sat on an old stone bench surrounded by the green and pink trees of spring while the sounds of distant birds tweeted around us.

I’d no clue about the exact procedure on what to do with the incense, but it should be pretty straightforward: Light the sticks with the fire, place the incense in the pot, and watch the magic happen.

But why was nothing happening?

Makoto stared at me blankly as I lit the third incense stick out of the five the mysterious diviner gave me.

Why isn’t it working?

The third stick burned through itself, leaving only the charred wooden handle inside the pot.

Makoto let out an exasperated sigh. “So, what’s happening here, exactly?”

“This isn’t right,” I said, rubbing my hands in desperate prayer. “Something’s supposed to happen. This thing should let me communicate with spirits and yokai.”

“Are you sure you didn’t get scammed?”

“Positive.”

It couldn’t have been a scam.

Jougasaki and I could attest to this item being given to us by a ghost. The story behind this thing was way too unbelievable and mysterious to have been a scam.

I don’t think ghosts are in the business of cons and frauds. And if they were, their tricks would involve cursing their unwitting victims.

Here, literally nothing was happening.

I shook my head and continued. “No, there must be something I’m doing wrong. There must be a chant, or a mantra that I’m missing.”

“And do you know any chants or mantras?”

“No?”

Makoto let out another sigh and facepalmed at me.

I made random gestures with my hands, imitating monks and other mystics from all the anime I’ve watched. I took out one more incense stick and placed it in the pot.

“Don’t bother. You’re almost down to your last stick. If you don’t know what to do, you better ask someone.”

I relented and put down the matchstick I had just taken out.

She had a point.

If I ran through my supply of incense, then that would be all she wrote, wouldn’t it? At the same time, however, there was little time left to ask around for spiritualists who would know how to communicate with yokai.

“I’m sorry, Makoto. This must look really silly right now.”

She shook her head. “No, don’t worry about it. You tried to help, and that’s enough for me. Besides, it’s not like I wanted to get rid of this curse in the first place. You don’t need to burden yourself like this.”

I bowed my head in shame and looked the other way.

Makoto stood from the bench and went beside me, gently patting my shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s go back to the city,” she said, attempting to comfort me. “I’ve already told you everything I needed to tell. Let’s go and enjoy Tokyo together, for the last two days.”

For a moment, I thought she was right.

There really was nothing much to do except spend the rest of my trip savoring my time with Makoto and the rest of the country.

I could just ignore the curse. In the end, it had nothing to do with me after all. The diviner was wrong—my appearance wasn’t the result of some hex.

It was stupid to think I could do something about all this.

I was powerless.

And after all, Makoto’s life was none of my business.

…

My phone rang.

It was Jougasaki. Right, it’s noon. I had told Jou to give me a call if I didn’t contact him anything before midday.

“Can you wait here a sec?” I told Makoto. “It’s Jou. I’ll just take this call.”

***

I’d gone behind a nearby tree to take Jou’s call privately. I didn’t want Makoto to hear anything if the conversation went in an unsavory direction.

“Yeah, it didn’t work.” I said over the phone. “This whole incense thing is a bust. The lady never gave us instructions on what to do. Hell, I’m not even sure if this thing is the real deal.”

Jou sighed. “That can’t be, dude. We were legit haunted.”

I heard him click his tongue in frustration.

“I don’t know what to tell you. Either way, I think you should exhaust your options. You still have two incenses left, don’t you? Keep trying ‘till you make it?”

I let out a sigh and stayed quiet.

“It’s up to you. But I’m guessing maybe it really isn’t any of our business, you know? Makoto-cchi wanted the contract, so if nothing works, then what can we do but leave her be, yeah?”

I sighed again and took a deep breath of the fresh spring air.

Jou continued again without input from me.

“Anyway, if you’re up to it, I’ll take you to happy street tonight. What say you, boys night out on the best soapies in town?”

I heard Jou sigh from the other side of the phone, as his voice became increasingly sullen.

“Dude, come on… Say something. I can’t have a conversation with someone who doesn’t wanna talk.”

Hold just a second.

A certain pep inflected on my voice when he said that.

“Wait. Jou. What was that again?”

“H-huh? You mean the soapland part?”

“No, after that.”

“What? ‘I can’t have a convo with a guy who doesn’t wanna talk’?”

…Of course.

That may have been the missing key, after all.

I can’t have a conversation with someone who doesn’t wanna talk.

An idea sprung in my head.

The most likely reason I couldn’t converse with the nure-onna was that both Makoto and her didn’t want to talk. At all.

If it really was true that the incense would allow me to understand and converse with the spirit in a language we could both understand, then that only works if there was dialogue first.

But what was there to do, exactly?

“Hey, Jou. Thanks.”

“Huh? What?” said a confused Jougasaki. “No… problem? And stop calling me ‘Jou’.”

“I’ll call you back later. I’m hanging up.”

With a click on the red end call button, I breathed a sigh of relief, followed by a light slap on my cheeks.

I headed back in Makoto’s direction.

***

A thin string of smoke rose from the small pot between Makoto and me.

I sat her down again in front of me, and separating us was the pot and my fourth incense stick out of the five I had. Makoto eyed me with disbelief and pity as I rubbed my hands together in desperate prayer.

“Look, how many times are we gonna do this? Maybe it really doesn’t work.”

I focused on the incense smoke, and quickly turned my attention to Makoto.

I gathered my wits about me, and summoned the courage to ask Makoto a question that may have been bugging me since the start of all this.

“Hey, Makoto. Why’d you come back to music?”

“Huh?” Makoto said, tilting her head. “I already told you, didn’t I? I didn’t want to end up working some job I hated ‘till the day I die.”

“But you could have done anything else, couldn’t you? In the end, you still chose to be a musician—by way of Miki. You must have loved music a lot.”

Makoto twirled her hair around her fingertips, looking all nervous. “Yeah. No shit.”

I chuckled as I recalled a distant memory.

“Hey. I remember back then, you loved to play the guitar after school. The music club was trying to bring you into their fray, but you weren’t having any of it.”

“You still remember that?”

“Of course. Though I don’t know if you told me why you refused them.”

Makoto shook her head. “I didn’t, I think.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“...I don’t remember.”

Makoto looked away from me. She began fiddling with the cat brooch pinned to her fanny pack. I remembered—this was usually a telltale sign that she was lying or otherwise omitting the truth from someone.

Come on. Let me in, please.

“Seriously? You don’t remember?” I said. “But you even threw hands at—”

“Nope! Don’t remember!”

I sighed. There must have been some reason she didn’t want to tell me.

“...Those were the days, weren’t they?

We’d go home together after school; sometimes, I’d listen to you playing. You used to draw quite a crowd, huh?”

Makoto stared silently. The way she spaced out into the space behind me made it seem she was reminiscing as well.

“Yeah…”

“Then when I’d have club and didn't bring you home, you’d throw a hissy fit and toss a few fists my way when I got home.”

“Yeah.” Makoto nodded.

I smiled wistfully, looking at Makoto’s cat brooch. “You really took care of it all this time, huh?”

Makoto grasped the brooch and curled her hand around it. She held it dearly, a solemn emotion showed clear in her eyes.

“Well, of course. It’s the only gift you’ve given me; it would be stupid if I lost it.”

I scratched my head in embarrassment. Was it really that important? I thought to myself.

“You know… that thing really isn’t that expensive. I just bought it on a whim, thought you might like it. I wouldn’t be upset if you lost it.”

Makoto sprung forward, looking upset.

“Well, I would!”

Right. Of course she would.

Most of the time, a gift’s receiver would be more upset about damaging the gift than the one who gave it, right? It would be the same for me if I were in her shoes.

“Right…” I said, backing away a little. “Now that I think about it… it was pretty stupid of me to not think of you when I heard Miki play guitar for the first time.”

“You’re jumping topics way too often.” Makoto said, crossing her arms.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just that, I can’t help but feel nostalgic.

Everything’s just so complicated now. You have to think about work, how you’ll survive next year, next month, next week… tomorrow.

So, talking to you like this—it takes me back. In a good way.”

The last of the fourth incense stick finally burned up. Its ashes fell into the pot, and still nothing came of it.

“...It’s the same for me.” she muttered.

“What?”

“I said, I feel the same way. I just wanna go back to a simpler time.”

She felt the same.

I truly did miss those ‘simpler times’.

After school, I’d search for Makoto among the crowd of students heading out for the day. If I couldn’t see her, I’d try to listen for that single guitar strum she’d do before she played anything.

I missed struggling on tests—those times when we’d do study sessions together and get nothing of note done.

You didn’t have to think too far ahead. Just live life day-to-day.

It’s a stereotypical line, but as they say, you never truly realize you’re making precious memories until you grow older and look back. Sometimes you’d end up regretting you didn’t make more, or you’d be happy you spent the most of your youth.

But for the most part, it was all about your outlook.

Makoto continued, her voice cracking again.

“You don’t have much time left in Japan, don’t you?”

“I don’t.”

“Then will you come back soon?”

A million-dollar question.

It was the same sentiment that Jougasaki had last night. The hope and confidence that I’d be coming back here soon, and maybe again and again.

But the circumstances of my visit here were based on fortune.

It was through no effort of my own. Or whatever efforts I made were to simply make the trip smoother, the getaway itself was beyond my control.

When I looked at Makoto’s pained look, it made me seriously consider heading back here as soon as I could.

If I could come back next week, I would.
If I could come back every year, I would.
If I could come back at all, I would.

But what if it wasn’t so?

After all, my life’s practically over.

It was no one’s fault but my own. Indeed, being a lazy, dependent person made me like this.

I should thank my lucky stars I can be here right now.

But when I come back home tomorrow, then will those stars still shine upon me?

There were too many uncertainties. Right now, the only certainty that existed lay before me:

Makoto Shirase.

I glanced at the burnt-out incense and pot. I grabbed them and put them back into my bag.

This incense. It did nothing in the end.

All it did was make Makoto and I have this conversation.

But maybe that was enough for me. It was all I could do.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back, if I ever will be.”

Makoto looked at me with tears in her eyes. She quickly wiped her face, further ruining her make-up. It was a pitiful sight, but even more pitiful was me, for sure.

If I had to guess what expression I held now, it would definitely look worse than whatever she had put on.

“Dumbass… can you please promise me we’ll do this again sometime?

You already forgot to promise the last time.”

…Last time?

I wondered what she meant exactly. But it quickly came to me—the meaning of her words.

It was because I didn’t promise to meet her again, right?

On the day of her departure, I never did see Makoto off.

I was too sad to see her go. My stomach churned and my vision blurred when the thought of her going away for good passed my mind. If I already couldn’t take the thoughts themselves, what more if I saw her off for real?

So I holed up in a cafe far, far away from home.

That’s right.

I chickened out.

If I saw her take that last taxi out, then I might have actually puked my guts out on the spot.

I bet that I didn’t want her to see me cry like a little bitch, either.

“I never really saw you off, huh?”

“You didn’t.”

My arms froze up, and my feet went cold. My heart raced as a wave of regret washed over me all at once.

Makoto bowed her hand as she spoke. “When I left, I promised myself that I’d try to see you again. I couldn’t find you anywhere, but I wanted to say those words to you myself.

But you were nowhere, so all I had was myself to swear to.”

Makoto began to sob again, head bowed and feet curled inward.

I approached her. I gathered my courage, and wrapped my arms around her, drawing her close for an embrace.

Makoto was cold. She wasn’t cold from the chilly spring air, but she was simply unnaturally so. I was sure it was the yokai’s doing.

But it wasn’t violent. I couldn’t see it nor hear it, but I felt like the nure-onna, too, was in pain.

She is an extension of Makoto, after all.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered, stroking her head gently. “I’m a coward. I should have seen you off. I’ve no excuse for letting that happen.”

She dug her head deeper into her knees, covering her face with it and her hair.

“I thought that you'd remember me if I were to play my guitar on broadcast. And that you’d try to reach out to me.”

It sounded like a silly reason. A childish one.

After all, how would hearing her music magically bring me to her?

But at the same time, it shook me. Struck me like none other.

That my cowardice from before has caused all this.

That indeed, being a lazy, dependent person made me like this. Not just me, but the people around me as well.

Was her reason to trade in her life to that yokai, all so the world could hear her music. So I could listen to her music?

I refused to believe such a thing. I refused to believe that I could be so important to someone that they would trade in life and limb just so they could send a signal to me.

Makoto, couldn’t you have called me?

Sent me a letter?

Looked for me on social media?

Then again, she always was an extremely sentimental type. And so was I, to be honest.

I kept embracing her for minutes, shouldering her tears and sobbing, as each passing moment calmed her. I stayed strong through all of it, even though my heart, too, was itching to cry out.

“Hey. Why don’t we head back to the city? Let’s just enjoy the rest of the day.”

I felt her hair brush on my sleeve as she nodded in agreement.

…

We took a lengthy trip back to Tokyo City proper.

In a reversal of this morning, our journey was more lively, active. Makoto pointed out the many scenic locations that passed our train’s windows. We shared images and videos from our phones and a quiet laugh as she made fun of the different people who went into the train who looked straight out of a comic book rogue’s gallery.

“I still have my old PS2 from before. You wanna play a few rounds tonight?”

Makoto offered to have a few games like the olden times back at her place.

How could I refuse?

Today was the last full day I could spend with her. Starting tomorrow, Jou and I will have to wrap everything up, and head back to the airport later in the evening.

And then, I won’t see Makoto for a while.

Or ever again.

In the end, I couldn’t solve the yokai problem.

If everything she said was true, then Makoto would continue to burn her life away as Miki.

Would she age? Fall to illness? Grow old at an accelerated pace like a clone trooper from Star Wars?

Either outcome was undesirable, but there was totally nothing I could do about it.

The scenery outside the train will remain the same throughout the years. Time will march on with or without me. The presence of Makoto, Miki, or I won’t change the beauty of this land. Of this world.

Everything will live on, in spite of our little drama.

Live now. Just the chance.

…or so I would say.

Because I wasn’t done yet.

Rather, she wasn’t done.

I felt that familiar, disgusting sensation of a reptile wrapping me up, slithering up my leg. I refused to look, and I refused to acknowledge its presence.

But near the end of our long, long train ride, came the point where I could no longer pretend it didn’t exist.

The nure-onna. It spoke to me.

In its horrifying, garbled voice, it asked me, and me alone:

“Human. You asked for me?
In that case, shall I make my counter-bargain?”