Mask of Anticipation

Kenji and I had little reason to stay in Sendai. I’d planned to go straight on to Aomori, but learning about the Golden Harvest office had given me reason to stay for a night. With that objective complete, we decided to check-out early the next morning and continue our journey northward.

That evening, I ordered room service: Salad with prosciutto and shrimp, followed by beef sirloin on fried rice. Not cheap, but I wanted to enjoy myself. Kenji expressed shock at my capacity for eating. I wasn’t sure to accept it as a compliment or not. Turns out it may have been envy, for Kenji talked about how Kishimoto used to bring him food. The food existed in reality, but she had to mentally bring it into the pocket dimension. With this in mind, I ordered a variety platter of sandwiches and left them on the bedside when I went to sleep.

To my surprise, I entered Kenji’s apartment with the tray of sandwiches. While Kenji gorged himself, I browsed his sparse bookshelf. ‘Not much of a reader?’ I asked, to which he explained how much he had to throw out, after Kishimoto minimised his living space.

‘I can pick some stuff up,’ I offered. ‘What do you like?’

‘Do you know the manga Sentient City?’

‘Kind of obscure,’ I replied. I called it obscure because the story focused more on the setting than characters or plot, as if the fictional city were a character in its own right. I’d read it a couple years ago.

‘There’s an arc I like where they’re trapped in a research outpost in the arctic. It’s sort of a cheap copy of an old horror movie, but I liked how they drew the environments.’

‘Must’ve been easy on them, right?’ I remarked. ‘Just ice and snow.’

Kenji licked crumbs from his fingers. ‘Back when we did the Damp system thing, you wanted me to face the ice, while you faced the ocean.’

‘And?’

‘Do you not like the snow?’

‘Snow isn’t the problem. It’s the cold I can’t stand.’

‘Your loss,’ he shrugged. ‘I kinda like the idea of being a ski instructor. Teach for a couple hours, relax on the slopes, and then fall asleep in front of a log fire. Except I’m pretty useless with people.’

And most of the mountains don’t have enough snow, I thought.

‘What about you?’ Kenji asked.

‘I guess with thermals I’d be okay.’

‘I mean, like, if this whole thing hadn’t happened. Any dreams for the future?’

Now, that—Kenji had asked the pivotal question. I continued to inspect the bare bookshelf, either to stall or search for an answer among the nothingness. I searched my memories, but finding no answer led me to the answer, if that made sense. I’d done a decent amount of things in my short life, but all it did was tell me what I didn’t want to do.

‘I’d like to travel,’ I told Kenji. Even the short trip from Neo-Tokyo to Sendai was more than I’d ever experienced. ‘Overseas, specifically. But I worry it’d seem shallow, like I wanted to travel for the glamour.’

‘You seem like an earnest person.’

I wasn’t sure how to accept the compliment. When friends and family complimented me, it felt like an obligation. But Kenji—I barely knew him. ‘Well, you’re not useless with people,’ I replied, using my tactic of compliment-reversal.

‘I don’t have many chances to practice,’ he smirked. We laughed a bit, though melancholy tinged the sounds. Talking about aspirations made us all the more aware of our situation.

I cleared my throat, promised to find some volumes of Sentient City, and then returned to the waking world.

#

I caught the train from Sendai to Aomori, where I planned to catch a ferry to Hokkaido and the city of Hakodate. Then it wouldn’t be far to Sapporo. That was the plan.

I got up to use the bathroom, and while walking back to my seat I bumped into a man getting up from his. The collision caused him to spill coffee onto his suit. His pure white suit. The dark coffee splashed against the jacket’s lapel and arm. I made the typical sounds of shock and apology, and then I helped dab the stains with a handkerchief.

I didn’t actually care about the man’s suit. It was his fault for jumping into the aisle without checking for people, and why did he bring his coffee? Plus, I didn’t actually dab with any real intent, since it obviously wouldn’t help. All I cared about was the chance we’d drawn attention.

Thankfully, the man didn’t seem perturbed. He told me not to worry and smiled with rows of straight, gleaming white teeth. His grey eyes held my gaze with an easy confidence. ‘It’s not a bit of bother,’ he said, with an unknown, clipped accent. ‘What’s a suit but overlapping tiny strings? Hah!’ His laughter trilled. I laughed uneasily, shuffling toward my seat. ‘What is coffee but crushed beans? Put the two together and it hardly strikes me as a reason to be upset. Please, please, sit for a moment and I will explain why this is no trouble.’

‘I…’ I glanced at my seat, but the man had sat at the window and patted the spot adjacent.

‘You did spill his coffee,’ Kenji remarked.

Though frustrated, I sat.

‘You see, my new friend, this suit costs a great deal of money. Now, I am not wealthy, but a certain friend supports me. He said to me—can you believe this? Well, he told me to spend any amount of money required to find and recover the love of his life. Isn’t that romantic?’

‘I guess so,’ I replied. A seedling of a thought began to grow deep in my brain, watered with paranoia.

‘My friend—a mutual friend, actually—was terribly sad when his love disappeared. But, by the grace of God, I have found you, the proverbial Delilah to Samson.’

Ice flooded my veins. I shot to my feet. The stranger seized my wrist and injected a syringe of pinkish fluid. My strength drained. I gave a limp kick, sending a telekinetic shockwave only powerful enough to disrupt the dust on the seats.

As I lost consciousness, the last thing I saw were rows of white teeth.

#

Kenji shook my shoulders. I’d manifested in his apartment, in the pocket dimension. ‘Who was that?’ he asked.

‘Friend of Samson,’ I groaned. My eyes felt like they’d been glued together.

‘Who?’

‘Members of the Sumiaka-kai.’

Kenji flinched. ‘What’d you do to them?’

‘Long story.’

‘What was all that Samson and Delilah stuff?’

‘Kenji, long story means I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Right, right.’ He helped me stand.

I massaged my neck and slapped my ears. ‘What’s that noise?’ It sounded like a distant, muffled vacuuming machine.

‘You hear it, too?’ Kenji replied, pacing the apartment. ‘It’s been getting louder. I checked everywhere, until—come, check it out.’ He led me to the entrance, to the void, and pointed at the stars. It looked like there were more. No, not more, but they’d gotten bigger, appearing to increase the density in the blackness.

‘Creepy,’ I said, and closed the door. ‘When did it start.’

‘Around the time we left Sendai.’

‘You didn’t mention it?’

‘I thought it came from your side.’

Before I had the chance to ask more questions, a booming noise startled us both, like someone had popped a house-sized balloon. We braced for a fight. The sound came from the entrance. Taking slow, measured steps, we advanced to the door. I held the doorknob and glanced at Kenji, who nodded. Three…two…one…

I flung the door open. A second later, I unclenched my fists and let them hang at my side. Kenji gasped. The void had vanished; no blackness remained. We stepped into a vast grey hall illuminated by ornate crystal chandeliers.

I found Kenji’s hand and squeezed it. We retrieved the Fulcrum, exchanged apprehensive looks, and entered the hall.