Chapter 13

So, let me tell you a story of a time long past. A story of Nare Nohate, who should have no bearing in the story of Shintaro Kiriguchi or what lies ahead for him aside from guiding him through his goals in his high school life. Yet, here we are.

I can't remember exactly when it happened. Denominations of time, like days, weeks, or even minutes, don't hold much relevance in the afterlife. Your existence as a spirit is, effectively, eternal. I hadn't been a story spirit for too long on a comparative level, is all I can remember about when it happened. 

I'd come to much the same conclusion as my junior from the last chapter about my job. I had made a living, or a dying, from guiding heroes of all kinds through their stories. But these stories, these protagonists, they were set in stone. My role was more like a stagehand, ensuring that props and actors were in their place for when the curtain rises, and assisting with their lines. I never appeared before the protagonist if I could help it, never made my presence known or got to know them beyond the information that was provided to me in their file or the goals that had been laid out for them. 

I knew everything I needed to know about them to make their story happen, and did whatever I pleased with their life to make it happen, without them having any say in it. Ultimately, I was content with that part. Stories are needed, and if my presence was what made them happen, then I was willing to do that. What irked me was that I had no real hand in it. I was just watching over their creation.

So, on that one day, I was lingering on those thoughts, sitting in some near-empty lakeside bar, sipping at their extra supply of rum and smoking a cigarette, tapping ashes into the ashtray. I've since quit, for your information. Not that it matters, I'm already dead. The bar was supposed to be closed, it was 4 or so in the morning and I'd snuck inside. I thought I would be alone until the sun rose that day, and when it did, I would leave my job and maybe find something else fulfilling. I had forever, after all.

But that didn't happen. The next thing I know, there's a chime at the door, and, after some shaking and creaking, the chime stuck in a loop as the bell is never quite fully struck, it eventually opens. Shuffling in through that gap was a child, barely clothed and soaked to the bone, visibly cold. I gave them a few moments of my attention but returned to my drink, knowing that, invisible to them, I could do nothing to help.

"Hello," they spoke.

I wet my lips with more rum and left my cigarette in the tray, leaning back.

"Hello."

I turned back around to the child. Why was she still calling out? The bar was empty, and the toneless way they were saying it made it seem like it wasn't out of blind desperation.

"Hello," they repeated again, the sound, shape, and length of the word identical every time.

"Can you... see me?"

"Hello."

I pointed to myself and they nodded.

"Do you need help?"

"Hello," they responded, with a sniffle.

It was unclear, but somehow, this child was able to perceive that I was in the room.

"I'll, uh, go and get you something to wear. I'll see if there's a towel too."

I lifted from my seat and drifted into the staff room behind the bar. There, I found a tea towel that seemed just about large enough due to how small the child was. I also brought a t-shirt, leggings, puffer jacket, and scarf from one of the employee's lockers.

Unsure of how to proceed, I lifted the child onto one of the stools and started to dry off their clothes.

"Hello," they continued. I think the cold lake must have had some effect on them mentally. Once they had started to warm up, I dressed them in new clothes. The puffer jacket and scarf were so overwhelming they were almost buried by it, but it was better than them getting any colder.

"Do you have a name? Maybe we can find your parents."

"Hello."

Unless that's actually their name, asking her won't get me anywhere.

Following the small chance that it was just their speech affected by the cold, I picked a napkin from the bar and a pen and passed them to them.

"Your name," I repeated, pointing at myself and motioning the action of writing with my hands.

She did say a name at the time, but I can't remember what it was, due to her accent or the fact that she was struggling to talk with the cold, it doesn't come to mind. But they were able to write something down on the napkin. Their handwriting was messy and cluttered, but she was somehow able to write what looked to me to be the kanji for her family name: 覗, 'Nozoki'. 

Nozoki, as I came to know her, was now sat at the bar, her tiny feet appearing as if they were miles from the floor as she gulped soup from a bowl I had prepared, refusing to use the spoon I had provided. I finished my glass of rum and thought about the situation I was in.

It was unheard of for a human to see a spirit of their own accord. There were people who were spiritually inclined, but even then we only let them believe that by appearing to them intentionally to make them feel better. If we wanted to be unseen, we were unseen.

Then an idea struck me. A realisation. This child had appeared right when I was doubting whether being a story spirit was right for me. Having someone who can see and interact with me like this... was this a whole new potential for a protagonist? One where I could contribute actively to their story, a story where I could build up a hero from nothing without it being preplanned?

I lowered my drink and absorbed the exposed pipes and air conditioning units of the ceiling. This was a crazy idea... but, the thought of going through with it tantalised me, a feeling I hadn't experienced ever since I began my job many years ago. I wasn't ready to go back out there and start applying again. In this economy? Do you know how little you can buy with Ghost Yen nowadays?

After confirming that there really was nobody connected to or related to Nozoki-chan, which required an excessive amount of background checking, contacting people with a fake voice, and peeking at records, I took her under my wing. I was technically shirking my duties by attempting this, but once the Grand Storyteller sees the kind of story I can make with a fresh protagonist, I was sure they'd forgive, and maybe even promote, me.

No matter how much I warmed her, Nozoki-chan's cheeks and forehead were always tinted a light blue, so I assumed it must have been something medical, or perhaps she was naturally cold, which would explain why walking out of a lake at night had barely fazed her. I pressed my palm to her forehead and she would pout at me, which made me reflexively chuckle, not a reaction I found myself having much those days. 

For much of the daytime, she would stagger around, picking up different things and cupping them in her hands to feel their shape. I did my best to feed her, which consisted of 'borrowing' food from grocery stores and restaurants. Despite all the effort it took to look after her, especially teaching her to speak again, it all seemed worth it when I saw her cute, little round face as she slept soundly in her favourite position, which was like a cat curled up on a rug. 

Each day I made progress, I checked my protagonist file to see if it had been updated, to see if it had acknowledged her potential and provided her with the role. It wouldn't give me any information to back me up this time, of course, but that was what I was banking on.

"Nare... Nare... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

One day, after a year or so of us living together, Nozoki came to me sulking. I went out to check on what had happened. There was an enormous hole blasted through the wall of the studio shack that we were sheltering in.  She reached out her hand to mine, but, despite hesitating, I drew mine away. I didn't want her to grow attached.

"We need to move. Come here."

I lifted her and carried her to the next location, her arms contentedly clutching my jacket, as if afraid of herself, but the whole time I was moving, all I could think about was how such a small girl could harbour such power. And it made me wonder just what sort of protagonist she could become once she wielded it.  

And it was then that it happened. Her profile updated. She was protagonist material. In all the years before I'd attempted it, I'd never dreamed it possible. If only she had stayed, maybe she could have become a protagonist with multiple stories in a single life, like Orpheus. A figure to sit amongst the other legends of humanity.

"Wait, where did she go?" cut in the other spirit.

"She left one day without a word."

"But there must have been some reason. What else happened before then?"

"I don't know if it's worth remembering. Nozoki reinvigorated me to do my job, but my job is done when a protagonist's story is complete. I had nothing else to do when she left."

"That's a bit of a non-answer. Don't you feel like you had a responsibility after going through all of that?"

"A... responsibility? But, I did my duty."

"You did your job."

"I don't see a difference."

"...Fine," she smirked. "You better run back to your current duty then, otherwise there really will be someone onto you about not doing your job."

"Right. I take it you're planning to stick around then?"

"You bet I am. Don't think I can move on so easily after catching a glimpse at what's going on here. And you're the most interesting part, Nare Nohate."

"Doesn't it get boring? Just doing nothing like this, going from place to place with no purpose, forever. Just watching."

"I dunno, I think nothing isn't that bad."

She melded back into the window, casting a shadow with half of her face in the transition.

"You owe me the rest of that story. Consider it payment for me not ratting on you. The name's Nikuru. Nikuru Kuro. Best of luck out there, story spirit Nare, or should I say, Nohate-senpai."

The curtains fluttered upon her exit. It was after that interaction that I started to come to terms with just how out of my depth I was. The story that lay before me, continuing this charade... it made me long for the days when I was with Nozoki. I sat in the classroom for a moment longer, bathed in the rays of the setting sun, and looked toward the faint ring of white where the moon would soon appear. Another day would be starting soon. 

I needed time to think.

===END OF PART ONE===