Chapter 1

The rain never seemed to touch Amane. There could be a typhoon outside, but she’d still walk through it and get to work dry.

A year ago she went out to lunch and never returned.

-

That morning, like always, she came to our small office in Shibuya at 8 a.m. sharp. I live close by so I was already in. When she arrived, I noticed that she didn’t have her lunch box.

“What’s it going to be today?” I asked, in keeping with our tradition. There were only ever three possible answers to that question. Ramen, soba, or Korean.

She bit her lip. “Good morning. I’ll probably have ramen.”

It was a sure bet then that at 12:30 to the second she’d get up from her desk, change her shoes, don her jacket, and go down the street to the ramen bar. Amane had habits and she liked to keep to them.

And that’s exactly what she did. At least that’s what I’m told. I had to visit a site our company was working on out in Setagaya at the time.

When I got back to the office, Amane’s desk was empty. I asked around and found out that she never returned after her break.

I was planning on meeting a friend of mine for our weekly darts match, but I decided to stick around for a while in case she came back. It seemed pretty unlikely since we were shutting down in another hour, but I wanted to make sure. I called my friend and mumbled an excuse about something coming up at work.

While I waited, I stacked my pens into a little log cabin on my desk. Something must have come up during her break. Maybe her apartment flooded. It had been raining a lot recently, but what were the chances she lived on the first floor? She was probably in such a rush to get home that she forgot to call. It wasn’t much of a comfort, but even Amane probably made mistakes.

Some people are like that, I suppose. They’re finely tuned machines until one day somebody drops a pencil into the works and all of a sudden your paper clip factory starts producing wire butterflies.

Anyway, that’s what I told myself.

Eventually everyone started packing up for the day, but Amane never came back.

Soon the only sounds in the office were the hum of the fluorescent lights and the click of my pen. I got up from my chair and crept over to her desk, just to make sure she didn’t leave a note or anything that we might have missed.

Her desk had the usual assortment of pens and folders. There was also a stack of purchase orders and a folded piece of paper with her name on it. It made me smile.

“What do you need a name tag for?” I asked when she first made it. It’s not like we have contractors coming into the office very often.

She made a face at me. “How do you know it’s not for me? It’s my desk. I’d hate to lose it.” Then she folded up another piece of paper and wrote my name on it.

“Here, just in case.”

I still have it on my desk.

I got on my knees and searched the floor by her chair, but all I found were her black leather pumps tucked neatly off to the side.

-

I had a hard time falling asleep that night. As the rain beat down outside the little window over my bed, I couldn’t help but imagine Amane sitting out there, spinning wire butterflies.

Chapter 2

She didn’t come into work the next morning. At nine I called her cellphone.

It rang on the other end for a long time before going to voicemail.

“Hello, this is Amane. I can’t reach the phone right now, so please leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

Beep.

“Hey, Amane. It’s me.” I hesitated. “From work,” I added, just in case. “We were just wondering if you’re coming in today and if everything’s alright. Call us back when you can.”

We all pitched in to cover for her like we normally do when someone calls in, but if it was out of character for her to leave over her lunch break without saying anything, then it was out of the question for her to miss a day completely.

She never called back.

I decided to retrace her steps, so for lunch I went to her usual ramen place.

A few weeks earlier, we’d crossed paths in the elevator. She was on her way there, and I was coming back from a trip across town. I asked if she’d like some company. I kind of invited myself along, but I didn’t think she’d mind.

The restaurant ended up being a small, dirty little place, wedged between two other ramen shops. It had a narrow bar on the first floor and a larger space with tables on the second. It was also suspiciously empty.

We just ended up sitting side-by-side at the bar while we ate quietly. She wasn’t reluctant to have me come along, but she didn’t seem particularly comfortable either. I think she might have been uncomfortable eating in front of someone else. But that’s okay. Everyone needs some peace and quiet. I was careful not to intrude on her lunch after that.

Just like the last time, the restaurant was empty when I got there. The same guy was working in the kitchen. I recognized his apron, stained with about a decade of broth and oil, before I recognized him. For a woman as put together as Amane, I can’t imagine why she picked that place over the million other options in walking distance.

I ordered at the machine and found a seat along the bar.

When the man brought out the ramen I asked him if he’d seen Amane there the day before.

“Yeah, kind of young, hair down to here?” He waved his hand at his shoulder. Apparently he didn’t need to think about it.

“She was here. Pork ramen, same as always. Same as you,” he said, setting down the bowl.

I asked if she left early or anything.

“Nope, just sat and ate. Nothing special.”

I thanked him and ate my noodles.

-

She didn’t come to work the rest of the day, so before I clocked out I gave her cellphone another ring. Voicemail again.

I spoke with our boss before he left and he agreed that if she wasn’t at her desk in the morning we should call her emergency contact.

He dug out her record from the personnel files in his office.

“You and Amane get along, right?”

I nodded.

He copied down the number on a slip of paper and handed it to me.

“Fine. Try calling again when you get in. Otherwise, call her…” He looked down at the file. “…mother. I’ve got to be in Setagaya all day tomorrow. Take care of it.”

I thought about trying her phone once more before I went home, but I didn’t want to bother her with too many messages.

-

That night I dreamt about Amane.

I was trapped in a black crowd of faceless dancers. They crawled over and around each other like a mass of twisted limbs. Thousands of voices breathing hot air suffocated me.

I was pushed around helplessly until I tripped and fell onto something soft.

It was her, curled into a tight ball in the middle of it. An eye peeked out from between her tightly wrapped arms and met mine.

Something hardened in her eye. She jumped to her feet and began dancing hard, like a fly caught in a spider’s web. Trying to escape through sheer force of will.

I jerked back from the sudden explosion of movement, her eyes were wild.

But an elbow jabbed my side and a knee pushed into my back and her face was squeezed against mine.

She was hot and slick with sweat.

She touched my ear with her nose, licking it. I could smell her hair.

I tried to pull away and for a second I glimpsed her smile. Red lips and empty eyes.

A wave began to form across the mass of people, rolling towards us. She grabbed at me, digging her nails into my arms. Then it hit and tore me away.

I waved my arms, trying to right myself and bubbles floated up into my eyes. I began to choke.

Down below I saw her. Two dark eyes on the surface of a white moon. As she sank further into the darkness, she raised one hand, and waved.

I woke up drenched with sweat, gasping for air.

The dreams continued every night after that.

Chapter 3

She wasn’t at work when I arrived, but it was still early. I tried her cell, and it went straight to voicemail.

Her recorded voice seemed optimistic, “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!”

Beep.

“Hey Amane. Sorry to call you again, we’re just getting a little worried. I hope you don’t mind, but we’re going to call your emergency contact. Your mom. Just to make sure everything’s OK.”

I hung onto the line, hoping she might suddenly pick up.

“I hope everything’s alright.”

I hung up.

She still hadn’t made it in at 8:05, so I dialed the number on the slip of paper.

The phone rang three times before it connected. There was a shuffle on the other end of the line before a tired-sounding man came through.

“Uh, hello? Yoneshige.”

I introduced myself with our company’s name, but he didn’t seem to recognize it.

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to reach Amane Yoneshige’s mother. Is she there?”

“Yeah.”

The call crackled as the man shifted the phone to the other hand.

“Just a second,” he said.

It was hard to make out, but it sounded like an elderly lady speaking in the background.

The man sighed into my ear. “Listen, what’s this about? Amane’s my sister.”

The voice in the background came through a little. “I want to say hello!” It said, but the man seemed to ignore it.

“Ah, okay.” I went on. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but Amane works in our purchasing department. She hasn’t come into work today or yesterday and we’re starting to get a little worried. We thought we should inform you.”

The man snorted and shifted the phone back to the other hand. It sounded like he was flipping through some papers or something.

He turned away from the phone and called out behind him, “Amane’s gone missing again.”

“What?” I said.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Yeah, look, I’m sorry to hear that. I hope she doesn’t cause you any trouble.”

His mother spoke again, much closer to the phone this time. Her voice was loud and kind of shaky. “Are you talking to Amane?”

The brother spoke into the phone, “She’ll probably turn up again. Don’t worry about it. If you have any paperwork to send her, just send it to whatever address you have on file.”

The phone thunked against something. I heard the brother grumble, then the old woman spoke into the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Yoneshige?” I asked.

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “You’re not Amane.”

“No, I’m sorry. Do you know where she is?”

The woman thought for a second. “No, no.” Then she turned the question back on me. “Do you know where she is?”

I shook my head and the line went quiet.

“I think you do.” She sounded certain. “So I’ll let you in on a little secret. Amane’s always getting up to something. When she was little she used to have the worst nightmares.”

It was her brother’s turn to say something in the background. He sounded annoyed. “Not again with the nightmares!”

Mrs. Yoneshige spoke in his direction before turning the phone back to me. “She used to have nightmares, yes. She’d wake up in the middle of the night screaming and shaking. I thought she was having seizures, but I guess you don’t yell during those.” She trailed off. “But you know what?”

She didn’t wait for a response.

“She was dreaming about bugs! Creepy crawlies.”

It felt like a good time to hang up. I started to thank her, but she broke in over me, speaking quickly.

“She always wanted to be a ballerina. I took her to lessons for years, but she wasn’t very good. But I told her, do ballerinas dream of bugs?”

“No?” I said.

“That’s right! So there can only be one thing in your bed. Bugs or ballerinas.”

“Well, thank you for speaking to me.” I spoke quickly to avoid another interruption. “Please, call me back on this number if you hear anything from her.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, son. She’ll be around.”

It sounded like a promise.

Chapter 4

After her disappearance, I started going out to lunch at her regular spots whenever I could manage it. It felt like wishful thinking.

Even if you like a restaurant, if you don’t happen to work next door, there’s very little reason to make the trip. Still, I went anyway.

Besides the ramen, she also had a favorite Korean restaurant a few streets over. In the last few weeks I got to know the old lady that ran it pretty well. She was the daughter of two immigrants who met in Tokyo after the war. I think her husband cooked in the back.

After finishing my lunch at the Korean place, I headed back to the office. It was raining again in Tokyo and my shoes were starting to mold. It rained every day since she left.

I was thinking about how I’d have to change my socks when I got back to the office.

And there she was. Walking right at me, in the middle of the road.

She was wearing dark green rain boots and a long black jacket. Her dark hair hung down loosely, a little longer than I remembered.

She never looked up at me. Her face was blank and pale and her head drooped at her shoulders. She just floated past, staring at the ground.

I watched her reach the other side of the street and continue up the sidewalk. Her umbrella moved along with her every step.

I stared after her like an idiot. We mailed her last paycheck over a week ago.

Behind me the light changed and a car started to honk. I jumped back to the corner where I’d been a moment before.

I started in behind her, just to buy myself some time to think of something to say. But nothing came, and the longer I followed her the harder it was going to be to explain how I’d gotten there. She seemed so far away.

After a few blocks she entered the south entrance of the metro station at Omote-Sando. I stood at the top of the stairs and thought about returning to work. I guess it was my turn to disappear over lunch.

She got on the Ginza line to Asakusa and I got in the same car, two doors down.

For once I was glad that the train was crowded. At least she wouldn’t notice me, not that she was looking. Between the commuters I could see her eyes, cast down. The skin beneath them was dark, and her hair hung heavily over her face, as though she were fighting off a cold.

Still, she was beautiful. Maybe even more than ever before. It was her lips. They were the same as in my dreams. Every time she was different, but her lips were always the same. Red and soft. The bottom one was a little redder than the top. Like she had been chewing on it.

But as the train rocked back and forth down the tracks, her mouth stayed a tight, thin line.

At Shimbashi Station she transferred to the Yurikamome line, two stories above the ground. I played it safe and got on one car back.

Rain ran down the windows as we crossed the rainbow bridge, getting shaken off by the wind and falling to the sea below. There was a large white ship in the bay. From that distance all of Tokyo looked like it was covered in a heavy blanket.

On the other side, traffic packed the highway running through Aomi Island, bumper to bumper all the way to the bridge.

I remember when the whole area was still pretty new. It was supposed to be a big commuter town. They branded it as “the city of the future,” or something, back in the 90’s. Big buildings and empty streets. In the afternoon on a rainy day the whole place was deserted.

Amane got off at Daiba station. She passed through the turnstiles and went left past the exit signs.

Near the station, a boardwalk curves around a U-shaped cove with a wide artificial beach. Across the water, a narrow peninsula separates the inlet from the bay. Daiba Park sits at its tip.

I visited the park once with my mother when I was a kid. She told me that it was built a long time ago by a Shōgun who was afraid of the British. It has high stone walls topped with grassy ridges in the shape of a square, with the center dug out in a deep bowl. Old cannon mounts, or replicas of them, are placed at the southern ridge, pointing out into the bay.

Amane moved along the boardwalk around the cove. Her steps were drowned out by the rain on the water, but even from a distance, I felt like I could hear the smack of her shoes on the wooden planks. Fish jumped out of the shallow water as if they were trying to catch raindrops in their mouths. I suppose they were really trying to escape some invisible predator.

I waited in the trees at the base of the peninsula as she entered the park. She walked up the steps and onto the muddy path along the eastern edge of the fort. After a few steps she disappeared over the top.

I emerged from my hiding spot and approached.

I gave up on making an excuse. There wasn’t a point anymore.

I climbed the first few steps and peeked over the edge. She was already almost to the south corner, looking out towards the sea. The fog over the water was thick, and almost nothing was visible beyond a few small islands across the bay. All the sound in the world was drowned out by the patter of the rain on the trees, grass, and the water below. I closed my umbrella and held it at my side.

She stopped at the end of the ridge and mist curled up from the grass around her feet. She became a perfect, black smudge at the end of the grassy lane.

I climbed the rest of the way up the stairs until I stood level with her. She didn’t turn.

My pressed shirt was already soaked under my jacket and water kept running into my eyes.

I took a step forward into the muck along the path.

Amane dropped her umbrella and I stopped.

A shock ran through her and she became stiff. Even her hair grew rigid.

Raindrops exploded around her, turning into a fine mist, collecting on her arms and shoulders. Clinging to her, trapping her. Then the cloud pulled away.

It became a head, shoulders, and arms, taking on a form of its own. It took a step away, and the last wisps of mist connecting them broke like the strands of a cobweb.

They stood together, shifting in the falling rain, pieces of another world.

The shadow turned and met my eyes.

It may have been the far-off Tokyo lights, but it seemed to have a reddish glow.

It smiled at me, a wicked sort of smile. Small clouds of fog floated from its body like puffs of smoke. Then it waved.

The wind changed, and the rain came down harder. I shivered in my soaked shirt.

The figure turned again, looking down the ridge toward Tokyo. It began to walk. It gained speed across the grass, bounding from one stride to the next.

At the end of the hill it jumped and fell apart in the cold air over the bay.

I dropped my umbrella and ran to Amane, splashing mud onto my already soaked pants.

“Are you OK?”

I spun her around and gasped.

For a moment I didn’t know who she was.

Her face was white and empty.

“Oh,” she said, just air escaping her pale lips. She nodded in small, jerking movements.

I searched her eyes, and something painful formed in my chest.

“I can go back to work now,” she whispered.

I bent down to pick her umbrella up off the ground and pressed it into her hands. My wet shirt was cold and stiff against my back.

“Are you OK?” I repeated.

She nodded but didn’t meet my eyes. She just looked down at the umbrella.

“Thank you,” she whispered. She let the umbrella fall out of her frozen fingers and back onto the grass, then she turned and began to stumble back towards the stairs.

I stood in the grass, and watched her walk away. I felt like all the nightmares of the previous weeks were stacked up on a table which finally gave way. Exhausted.

She only made it halfway to the stairs before she collapsed.

-

I called an ambulance and rode along with her to the hospital. The doctors said that she was dehydrated and suffering from extreme exhaustion, but they assured me that she would recover.

“This can happen when people don’t get enough sleep,” they said.

I wasn’t reassured.

I called work and informed them of the situation. I wanted Amane to wake up to some good news, so I arranged to get her job back. We hadn’t had time to fill the position yet, so it wasn’t any trouble.

Then I called her mother to let her know that her daughter had returned. Her brother picked up. I wasn’t sure what to say.

It didn’t matter. His voice was thick with laughter on the other end of the line. “I told you she’d turn up again. Don’t worry about it.”

-

I cashed in a few vacation days so I could wait at the hospital. She didn’t wake up for two days.

I spent that time watching her rest.

Her face had changed. She was thinner than before. Colder too. Eventually a little color spread across her cheeks, but it never reached her lips.

When she finally woke up I asked her, “What’ll it be? Ramen, Korean, or soba?”, but she didn’t seem to understand.

-

Eventually we went back to work. I came in at 7, she came at 8, and every now and again she went out to lunch. Everything went back to normal. At least she didn’t disappear again. Still, I never saw her bite her lip again, and I never saw her smile.

After a couple of days, I noticed a small stack of pink paper squares on her desk. Sometimes, when she was working, she’d fold a little butterfly and set it next to her keyboard.

-

A few weeks ago she put in her notice. She got a new job in Chiba and was all set to move out there.

It was raining the day she left.

All she took from her desk was her shoes and a box filled with small, pink butterflies. I helped her carry them down. When we got to the door we stopped to look out onto the wet street.

I touched her lightly on the shoulder, and she turned. She seemed tired.

“I just wanted to—” I looked down the road. “I guess I wanted to ask. Why do you like that ramen place so much?” I gestured down the road.

She looked at the box in her hands, filled with the delicate little creatures, and gave a tiny shrug. “The guy who runs it always gives me an extra egg for free.”

“Oh,” I nodded to myself.

“Why?” she asked.

“Nothing. Just something I was thinking about. That’s all.”

I looked down and noticed that she didn’t have an umbrella. I started back upstairs to get mine, but she stopped me. Then she reached up and kissed my cheek.

“Goodbye,” she said.

I waved after her until she disappeared down the street.

Bugs and ballerinas.

As she walked away, the rain fell down on Amane.

The End

Contributors

Thomas Tavi - Author

Alpha - Model

Ryan Bell - Photographer

Part I - Himari’s Afraid of Trains

Himari winces as the train clatters and screeches on the overpass across the street before roaring away down the tracks. Once it passes, car engines fill in the gap, revving as the light changes. Himari tacks herself onto the back of the crowd marching across the road.

Her fingers grip onto the bottoms of her sleeves, holding them tight and stretching the fabric. The next train is already on its way. Getting closer.

The sidewalk narrows on the other side of the road as it goes below the bridge. About a billion people cram into the narrow space, laughing loudly, crossing paths, squeezing against each other, and shouting in a chorus of overlapping voices. A man with a blue necktie rushes past on a bike a few inches from the crowd, peddling furiously. Sweat pours down his forehead while his shoulder bag smacks loudly at his side.

The group she’s following gets stretched and compressed like gum being pulled from between the teeth. Then the air around her starts to shake. A second later the train blasts down on the tracks overhead.

Himari freezes in front of the dark hole going under the bridge, blinking hard and gulping for air. She peels off the back of the crowd and jumps to the safety of the wall running down a narrow sidestreet, away from the sidewalk. She presses her back against the wall while her chest heaves.

The train finishes its angry screaming and rockets away.

Finally, she can relax her fingers, releasing her sleeves which are now choked with palm sweat.

Under her breath, she curses the cicada with its wiggling butt on the tree outside school. It made her miss the rest of her class on the walk home. She still has no idea how it makes those chirps and hisses, and now she’s stuck on the sidewalk, waiting for a gap between the trains. Stupid cicada.

Himari digs her toe into a crack on the sidewalk.

There’s a group of tall men with really hairy legs speaking in English and waiting at the crosswalk. Himari watches an ant at eye level, climbing up one of the men’s legs. It keeps getting stuck in the hair. She watches it turn around to find a new path up the unsuspecting leg, only to get stuck again.

She peeks around the corner into the shadowy depths under the bridge, but the river of people going back and forth doesn’t seem to let up. She sighs, but at least the trains are a little quieter here.

Then, like getting her sweater snagged on a bush, her ear catches on a giggle coming from across the street. All the way from here she knows the voice of Watanabe Yui, sixth grade. Himari ducks behind a stop sign, then reassesses her hiding spot and runs down the street a little way to hide behind a bush. From between the leaves she watches Yui and her friend, Ito Hina.

Yui is so tall. Ito Hina is tall too, but she’s kind of round. Not like Yui. Yui’s hair is black, like ink spilled from a jar. She has to keep reaching up to hold a strand of it from blowing into her eyes. She looks so beautiful in her uniform. Like the teachers made her try on every outfit, from every school in Tokyo, until they found the perfect one for her. Himari imagines looking up to see Yui’s face on one of the big boards in Shinjuku Square.

As they cross the street, Himari ducks further behind the bush, trying not to be seen. Thankfully they pass without noticing her cowering behind her bush. She watches them in awe as they charge ahead into the crowd going under the bridge.

Ito Hina’s waving her arms like she’s wrestling a big fish. She can just barely make out her words as they pass.

“But his ears! They’re sooooo big! Didn’t you see?”

Yui says something, but it’s too quiet to hear.

Himari realizes her chance. She waits for them to enter the throng, then she dives into the wake, a meter behind.

Immediately she’s pushed off course into the railing as a group of older boys charge through in the other direction, kicking their umbrellas like a herd of elephants. The girls are already too far for comfort, but Himari’s in too deep beneath the murky overpass to turn around. She races to catch up.

She’s just a few arm lengths away when they finally emerge on the other side of the overpass where the sidewalk widens up again.

She stops and lets out a sigh of relief, but chokes halfway through.

As Ito Hina shakes her, Yui’s umbrella slips loose from her backpack behind her arm. She doesn’t notice, too distracted by Hina’s loud voice.

Himari watches the umbrella in slow motion as it falls to the ground. The loosely wrapped umbrella makes barely a sound in the loud bustling of the sidewalk. Nobody seems to notice it fall, hitting the ground as the girls continue on unaware.

Himari stands frozen as they move farther down the sidewalk, waiting for Yui to notice the missing umbrella and turn back. But she never does.

Himari looks down at the umbrella, then back up to the girls disappearing in the crowd. Fear grips her, as if the umbrella was a baby left alone in a park. Someone might come along and take it!

Himari runs to the umbrella, her backpack bouncing on her back, then snatches it up, cradling it tightly against her chest. She looks down, entranced by the black handle where Yui held it.

When she breaks the spell and looks up a moment later, Yui and Ito Hina are nowhere to be found. Himari stands on her tiptoes, but she still can’t see anything. She leans over the curb to get a better view down the sidewalk, but it’s no use. They’ve disappeared.

She takes a few uncertain steps forward.

The moment she actually decides to run down the street to chase them, three ladies with big grocery bags step onto the sidewalk in front of her, blocking her way.

Himari follows impatiently behind the old ladies as they slowly make their way up the street.

After another block they continue on, but Himari stops at the corner. This is her road.

She looks down at Yui’s umbrella as if it was a priceless artifact stolen from a museum. It’s practically brand new. She suddenly realizes how tightly she’s clutching it and relaxes her grip a little. Not too much though.

Slowly, she turns off the main road, taking a step or two down her street. She watches as the sidewalk disappears behind her. Yui’s nowhere to be found.

It’s the strangest thing. As she takes another step away from the road towards home, the umbrella seems to get heavier in her arms. She takes another step and the umbrella gets heavier still. Pretty soon it’s dragging all the way down to her waist.

Himari looks down at the beautiful umbrella in her hands and imagines Yui standing in front of her home, turning around and realizing it’s gone. Maybe she’ll go back and look for it, but it won’t be there.

She’ll think someone stole it.

Someone did steal it.

Himari’s face gets hot and red, and tears well in the corners of her eyes. She’s not sure how, but she makes a promise then and there to return the umbrella after school the next day.

-

After a few minutes Himari stands in front of her own front door, shifting from one foot to the other, confronted with a brand new obstacle. She takes off her backpack and tries to put the umbrella in, but it doesn’t fit. She looks around for somewhere to stash it, but gives up. She can’t ensure the safety of the umbrella if she leaves it outside, and there’s nothing more important than keeping it safe.

“Mama’s probably making dinner. If I’m quick, maybe I can get it past her without her noticing,” she thinks to herself, chewing on the end of her finger.

She stuffs the umbrella between her back and her backpack low enough so that it doesn’t poke over her head. She adjusts uncomfortably as the umbrella knocks stiffly against the back of her legs, but it’ll have to work.

She takes a deep breath, preparing her mind for anything. Then she opens the door.

Quickly, she kicks off her shoes, drops her backpack, and shouts “BATHROOM” as she sprints up the stairs. She can hear her mother in the kitchen.

She gets to her room successfully, without being seen. Fast as lightning, she stuffs the umbrella under her bed, then she turns around and sits, breathing a deep sigh of relief.

Part II - Fairies

Himari lies in bed like a board. Stiff and awake.

Sharp white light from the street comes in from between her curtains, drawing lines on the ceiling.

She can almost feel the umbrella on the floor beneath her mattress.

Even though her window is on the second floor, she imagines Yui knocking on it from outside. Floating in midair, holding onto the window frame to keep from floating away.

“Tap tap tap.”

She taps the glass with the end of her finger until Himari gets on her knees and opens the curtain.

Yui makes a “shush” motion, putting her finger across her lips. Then she points down at the window.

Himari touches the glass, then carefully slides it open.

Yui reaches in and takes Himari’s hands. She lifts her up through the window and over the street.

They float high above the ground, so high that even the big purple tower in Shinjuku looks like a colored pencil, stuck point-up in the ground.

Himari climbs down from her bed in her pink pajamas and lies flat on the floor with her hands balled up into fists against her cheeks. The umbrella sits silently underneath, turned a little at an angle.

Himari stares at it in the dim light. Then slowly, as if it were a cat ready to pounce away, she reaches out to it with the end of her finger. The plastic is soft and slippery.

She huffs through her nose, then reluctantly gets back into bed.

Behind her eyelids, the umbrella starts to pulse, slowly with a soft white light. It opens and closes like a giant jellyfish, living at the bottom of the deep, dark ocean.

Part III - The Mean Streets West of Ōkubo

Himari sneaks the umbrella out in the morning the same way she brought it in, only this time she shouts “GOODBYE” instead of “bathroom” on her mad dash out the door.

At school she stashes the umbrella in her cubby with her shoes, even though it feels wrong to leave it all alone. She makes up for it by taking every opportunity to check on it throughout the day.

-

At last, the classroom’s straightened out and it’s time to go home. But not for her. Himari waits in the courtyard, pretending to search for another cicada until everyone else clears out. Then she makes her way through the streets towards the overpass.

She tongues nervously at the canine that just started coming loose in the left corner of her mouth. She can hear the trains whooshing down the tracks in the distance every few minutes. If Yui doesn’t follow the same schedule that she did yesterday, she might have to brave the underpass alone again.

-

Himari runs across the street once the light changes, then veers towards her bush along the wall, already wiggling with anticipation.

But after the crosswalks fill up, empty out, and fill up again, time begins to move like a slug in the sun. She paces back and forth and looks longingly down at the ground. It would be nice to sit, but she doesn’t dare do it with her uniform on.

What if someone came and picked Yui up from school? Or what if she had to leave early for some reason, like for an appointment? She distracts herself by inspecting the bright green tufts of moss coming out of the wall between the big cracks in the concrete. There’re more little bugs crawling around in there than she expected.

On the twelve thousandth glance back at the corner, Yui finally appears. She’s all alone today. For a moment all she can see are Yui’s eyes, like two shiny black marbles on the bottom of a stream.

Himari’s heart kicks into high gear. Time to put the plan into action!

She runs low against the wall until she reaches the opening of the underpass. Then she leans the umbrella up against the concrete wall going underneath. She’s extra careful to keep the handle from scratching on the rough surface.

Just as quick, she returns back to the shelter of her bush.

Not a moment too soon. The light already changed and Yui’s two feet into the street.

She walks across, straight and tall, looking down at the street in front of her toes.

Himari peeks from between the leaves with her knees bent and her hands gripping the front of her skirt, wrinkling it badly. She can’t wait to see the look on Yui’s face when she sees her umbrella, safe after all this time. She’ll probably wonder where her guardian angel’s hiding.

But Yui doesn’t stop.

Himari’s jaw drops. Yui disappears beneath the overpass, head bent, hands on her backpack straps.

Himari fights back amazement and devastating disappointment, wringing her hands and pacing back and forth behind the bush.

But every second that goes by Yui gets further away. She’s probably already on the other side!

Himari sprints down the sidewalk to retrieve the umbrella, snatching it from the wall.

There’s no way she’ll be able to get in front of Yui in order to try again. Her mind races.

There’s still an overpass between them. One problem at a time. Like plunging into cold water, she takes a deep breath and dives under the bridge, surfacing on the other side despite the roar of a train.

Thankfully Yui’s still visible by the time she makes it through. Himari falls in line with her a few meters back. It’s not much of a plan, but it’s something. She glues her eyes to Yui’s backpack, committing herself to the pursuit.

But after only a moment they’re already at Himari’s street.

She pauses at the corner, twisting the umbrella in her grasp. Yui keeps on going, step by step, further and further.

Himari looks down her street then back at Yui.

She’s already sweating, but now her cheeks are growing hot. She should turn off, give up, and try again tomorrow.

She glances back and forth again. Hopelessness creeps up beneath her, opening its big mouth, ready to swallow her up.

But what if it rains?

Another glance.

The street before her turns into a frightening labyrinth where dangers lurk behind every corner. Tears form in the corners of her eyes.

No.

She snaps, jumping away from the jaws closing in around her. With an exasperated “Gah!”, she chases after Yui.

Her tears and snotty nose dry as she gets farther from her street, her attention consumed by the dangers around her. One block, then two. She presses on into the chaotic unknown, with no end in sight.

-

Korean sign.

Shop with white baskets.

Green door.

She tries to remember everything they pass as they turn onto the quieter side streets. Stringing along memories like breadcrumbs.

As the street gets quieter, Himari sinks further behind to avoid detection. Out ahead, Yui starts to look smudged as she gets further away.

With nothing to distract her but the smack of her shoes, her thoughts catch up to her. Yui could live anywhere. She might be walking to catch a train or something.

What if she lives in Hokkaido?

Yui turns onto another narrow street up ahead, disappearing behind a dark brown fence on the corner.

Himari jogs a little to catch up. The worst possible outcome would be to end up in Hokkaido and lose Yui’s trail.

She wants to pause for a moment alongside the dark fence to rest, but what if Yui goes inside and she misses it? Himari leans over and peeks around the corner.

She almost jumps out of her skin, only barely managing to hold onto the umbrella. Yui’s grey knit sweater is just a finger-length in front of her nose.

Himari looks up, her eyes as wide as a lemur’s, cornered in its nest.

But Yui isn’t angry. She’s as still and impassive as dry grass on a windless tundra, or a frozen lake in the dip of a mountain.

She looks down at Himari.

“Is that my umbrella?”

Himari doesn’t make a sound. She just makes one sharp nod, down and up.

A moment of silence passes between them.

Himari breaks it by shakily offering up the umbrella to her.

Yui looks at it, surprise in her eyes.

She takes it from Himari’s open hands, makes a short bow and says, “thank you”. Then she turns, and continues down her street.

Himari watches her walk away, her hands still open and raised up at her chest.

A few lots down, Yui turns and opens the door of a house. Without a moment of hesitation, she and her umbrella disappear inside.

Himari’s chest heaves as she takes a massive breath. She never realized Yui’s house was so close!

She commits every detail of the grey facade to memory. That’s where Yui lives.

-

A few minutes pass before Himari finally turns.

She dances the whole way home, replaying the memory of Watanabe Yui, and her umbrella, stepping through the door.

The End

Contributors

Thomas Tavi - Author

Brooklyn Bell - Illustrator

Ryan Bell - Photographer