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
