Atsuya held his breath. He clicked off the flashlight and tiptoed to the edge of the house. From the shadows, he peered at the street in front of the store.
But no one was there. Not now, and not a few minutes ago.
3
Thank you for your prompt reply. After I left my letter in your mail slot last night, I was sure I’d asked too much of you. I spent the whole day worrying that I was annoying you, so it’s a relief to hear back.
Your suggestion makes sense. If I could, I’d love to bring my boyfriend with me. But in his condition, I’m afraid it isn’t possible. The only reason he hasn’t gotten worse is that he’s being treated at the hospital.
With that in mind, you might ask, why not practice near the hospital? Unfortunately, there aren’t any training facilities nearby. As it stands, I can only go see him on my days off, and it takes me hours each way.
But time still keeps passing, and I’ll be leaving for my next training session soon. I went to see him today. He told me to work hard, and I nodded and said I would. What I really wanted to say was that I didn’t want to go, I wanted to stay put, right here, but I held it in. I knew if I said that, it would only hurt him.
When I’m away, I wish there was some way I could see his face. Sometimes I daydream about having a TV phone. They always have them in manga.
But what good is that fantasy going to do me?
Mr. Namiya, thank you so much for listening to my problems. It has been a huge relief for me to put them in writing.
I think I need to figure them out on my own, but if you have any more advice, please let me know. And if you don’t, please just write and say so. I don’t want to be a nuisance.
In any case, I’ll check the crate again tomorrow.
Thank you so much.
—Moon Rabbit
Shota was the last to read the letter. He looked up and blinked twice. “What’s the deal?”
“No idea,” said Atsuya. “What the hell is going on?”
“It’s a response, right?” deduced Kohei. “From Ms. Rabbit.”
Atsuya and Kohei both shot him a look.
“How did it get here, though?” they asked him at the same time.
“How? Huh…” Dumbfounded, Kohei scratched his head.
Atsuya jerked his thumb at the back door. “It was barely five minutes ago that you dropped the letter in that box. When I went to look, it was gone. Even if this Rabbit woman came and grabbed it in the meantime, she wouldn’t have had time to write back. But we still got a second letter from her, like, instantly. This is way too weird.”
“Yeah, weird. But it’s a definitely a letter from Ms. Rabbit. Right? I mean, she responded directly to my advice.”
Atsuya had no rebuttal. Kohei was right.
He snatched the letter from Shota and scanned it again. No one could have written this without reading Kohei’s response.
“Shit, man,” cried Shota, exasperated. “Is someone screwing with us?”
“Bingo.” Atsuya jabbed a finger at Shota’s chest. “This is some kind of prank.”
He tossed aside the letter and threw open the door of a nearby closet. Inside was nothing but futons and cardboard boxes.
“Atsuya, what’re you up to?” Shota asked.
“Checking to see who’s hiding in here. They probably listened to our convo before Kohei started writing and got a head start on their response. Or maybe someone’s bugged the place. You two, look over there.”
“Wait a second. Who would even do that?”
“How should I know? It’s gotta be someone who gets off on playing pranks on people who sneak into this dump.” Atsuya lit up the inside of the altar with his flashlight.
Shota and Kohei sat still.
“Come on, help me look around.”
Uneasy, Shota shook his head. “I dunno, man. I can’t imagine why anyone would bother.”
“Well, I can. What other explanation is there?”
“I guess,” said Shota, still unconvinced. “But what about the letter disappearing from the crate?”
“That was some kind of illusion, like a magic trick.”
“A magic trick?”
Kohei looked up as he reread the second letter. “Something seems kinda off about this lady.”
“What?” asked Atsuya.
“Well, she says she wishes there was a ‘TV phone.’ I don’t get it. Doesn’t she have a cell phone or something? Or maybe she just can’t video chat with him?”
“They probably won’t let him use a cell phone in the hospital,” Shota offered.
“But she said they have them in manga. Sounds like she has no idea that cell phones can make video calls.”
“No way. Impossible. What world is she living in?”
“No, that’s gotta be it,” said Kohei. “Let’s tell her.” He headed for the table.
“Wait a sec. Are you writing back? This is just somebody screwing with us.”
“But we don’t know that for sure yet.”
“Someone is definitely screwing with us. They’re probably listening to us right now so they can start in on the next letter. Hold on—wait a second.” A light bulb went off in Atsuya’s head. “All right, Kohei, write her back. I thought of something.”
“What is it this time?” asked Shota.
“Just wait. You’ll see.”
Kohei labored through the letter and put down the pen. “Done!”
Shota had a look over Kohei’s shoulder at the paper. Chicken scratches, as usual.
thank you for the second letter. here is some good news for you. some phones can make video calls. all carriers have at least one model. just make sure the hospital doesn’t find out.
“How’s that sound?” asked Kohei.
“That’s fine,” said Atsuya. “Whatever you want. Just put it in the envelope.”
Moon Rabbit’s second letter, like the first, contained a fresh envelope made out to herself. Kohei folded up his new response and slipped it inside.
“I’m going this time, too. Shota, you stay here.” Atsuya grabbed the flashlight and headed for the back door.
Once they were outside, Atsuya watched to make sure Kohei put the letter in the wooden container.
“All right, Kohei, you hide somewhere and don’t take your eyes off this.”
“Got it. Where are you gonna be, Atsuya?”
“Out front. To get a good look at whoever comes by with the letter.”
Atsuya went along the side of the house and peered out from the shadows into the street. Still no sign of anyone. But shortly after, he felt someone approaching him from behind and turned to find Shota.
“What are you doing? I told you to stay inside.”
“See anyone?”
“Not yet. Why do you think I’m standing here?”
Shota looked distraught. His mouth was open.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Shota answered by holding up an envelope. “We got another one.”
“What the hell is that?”
“What do you think?” He licked his lips. “Another letter.”
4
Thank you once again for the response. I’m comforted by the fact that someone out there knows about my troubles.
I’m very sorry to say that the advice in your last letter went a little—well, actually, went completely over my head.
I’m afraid I’m not educated or cultured enough to comprehend the joke you’ve written to lift my spirits, though I’m ashamed to admit it.
My mother always told me that if you don’t understand something, don’t assume people owe you an explanation—try to figure it out yourself. I always try to solve problems on my own, but this time, I have to say I’m lost.
For starters, what’s a cell phone?
From the spelling, I thought it might be a foreign word, but I couldn’t track it down. If it’s in English, I’m guessing it could be short for animal cells or maybe cellmate, but neither of those seems right. Maybe it’
s from another language?
Without knowing what a “cell phone” is, your precious advice is lost on me, like pearls before swine. I would be grateful if you would expand on this.
I know you must be very busy, and I’m sorry to be taking up your time this way.
—Moon Rabbit
The three guys sat down at the kitchen table. Shota arranged the three letters from Moon Rabbit in a tidy row.
“Let’s recap,” Shota said. “Kohei’s letter disappeared again from the box. And even though he stayed hidden and watched it like a hawk, no one came even close to it. Atsuya was staked out in the front—same thing. Somehow, a third letter showed up in the mail slot. Anything wrong so far?”
“No,” said Atsuya curtly. Kohei nodded in silence.
“Therefore,” Shota concluded, pointer finger upright, “no one came near the house, but Kohei’s letter disappeared, and a new letter from Ms. Rabbit arrived. We’ve inspected the milk bin and the shutter, but there’s no trapdoor, no nothing. Where does that leave us?”
Atsuya leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers behind his head. “We don’t know. Why else would we be discussing this?”
“Kohei?”
His round face shook back and forth. “No idea.”
“Shota,” Atsuya started, “are you onto something?”
Shota gazed down at the trio of letters. “Something strange is going on. This woman has no clue what a cell phone is. She thinks it’s in a foreign language or something.”
“Maybe she’s messing with us.”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely. At this point, every person in Japan knows what a cell phone is.”
Shota pointed at the first letter. “What about this? It mentions the Olympics—next year. But think about it. There’s not gonna be an Olympics in the summer or the winter. It just happened in London.”
Atsuya let out a small cry. “Oh!” To cover it up, he screwed up his face and rubbed a finger under his nose. “She just got mixed up, is all.”
“You really think so? Hard to believe she’d make a mistake like that. This is the biggest event of her life. Between this and her not knowing you can video chat, things are more than just a little off.”
“I agree… And?”
“There’s one other thing.” Shota lowered his voice to a whisper. “This is totally weird, but I noticed it a minute ago, when I was outside.”
“Noticed what?”
Shota faltered for a moment, then spoke again. “Atsuya, look at your phone. What time is it?”
“My phone?” Atsuya pulled it from his pocket and checked the display. “Three forty AM.”
“Right. So we’ve been in here over an hour.”
“Okay. So what?”
“Yeah, well, follow me.” Shota stood up and led them out the back door to the passage between the house and the garage. He looked up at the night sky. “When we got here, the moon was directly overhead.”
“Yeah, I noticed, too. What about it?”
Shota stared into Atsuya’s face. “That’s weird, right? It’s been over an hour, but the moon hasn’t budged.”
For a moment, Atsuya was completely lost, unable to grasp what Shota was hinting at. But when he understood, his heart pounded in his chest. His face went hot, and something shivered through his spine.
He pulled out his phone again. The display said 3:42 AM.
“What the hell is this? Why isn’t the moon moving?”
“Maybe the moon doesn’t move that much this time of year,” proposed Kohei.
“No such season,” scoffed Shota.
Atsuya looked from his phone to the night sky. He had no clue what was happening.
“What about this?” Shota started fiddling with his own phone. It looked as if he was dialing a number.
His face was tense. His eyes, blinking repeatedly, were completely focused.
“What’s wrong? Who are you calling?”
Silent, Shota simply held out his phone so Atsuya could listen for himself. Atsuya held the phone to his ear and heard a woman’s voice.
“The current time is two thirty-six AM.”
The three of them went back inside.
“It’s not the phone that’s broken,” Shota began. “This house is out of whack.”
“Are you saying that something here is messing up the clocks on our phones?”
Shota didn’t nod this time. “I don’t think the clocks are messed up. They’re working fine. It’s just that they’re not displaying the right time.”
Atsuya frowned. “What would cause that?”
“There must be a rift in time inside and outside the house. Time isn’t passing at a normal pace; it can feel like a really long time in here, but it’s only like a second outside.”
“What are you getting at?”
Shota looked over the letter again and back to Atsuya. “We’re certain no one else has come near the house, but Kohei’s letters disappeared, and letters from Ms. Rabbit keep showing up. This should be impossible. But think of it this way: What if someone did pick up Kohei’s letter, read it, and came back with a response—but we weren’t able to see her?”
“Unable to see her?” asked Atsuya. “Like what? An invisible woman?”
“Ah, okay,” mused Kohei. “Like a ghost, right? Wait, are there ghosts here?” He cowered and looked around the room.
“Not invisible, and not a ghost. Whoever this is, they aren’t of this world.” Shota pointed to the third letter. “They belong to the past.”
“The past?” spat Atsuya. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Here’s how I see it. The mail slot and the milk crate are connected to the past. When someone leaves a letter at the store back then, it lands here in the present day. In the same way, when we leave a letter in the box, it winds up in the same place in their time. Don’t ask me why this is happening, but when you put it all together, it checks out. Ms. Rabbit is sending us letters from a really long time ago.”
Atsuya couldn’t string a sentence together. He had no idea what to say. His brain refused to process any of this
“Can’t be,” he finally said. “There’s no way.”
“I’m with you. But there’s no other explanation. If you think I’m wrong, try and think up something better. Something that explains everything.”
Atsuya had nothing. What else could explain this?
“You just had to go and write back,” he said, rounding on Kohei without much conviction. “That’s what got us into this mess.”
“Sorry…”
“Don’t blame Kohei. Look, if I’m right about this, we’re onto something huge. I mean, this would mean we’re exchanging letters across time.” Shota had a twinkle in his eye.
Atsuya didn’t like the sound of that, but he didn’t know what to do with himself.
“Come on.” He stood up to leave. “Let’s beat it.”
The other two looked at him, surprised. Shota asked him why.
“Doesn’t this rub you the wrong way? If this gets out of hand, we’ll be in deep shit. Let’s go. There’s plenty of other places we can lie low. Plus, morning is never gonna come, no matter how much time passes in here. There’s no use waiting it out if the clock stops working.”
But his friends wouldn’t agree. They sat silently, heads heavy.
“What’s wrong now?” Atsuya shouted. “Say something, god damn it!”
Shota looked up. The light in his eyes was formidable. “I’m gonna stick around for a bit.”
“What? Why?”
He shrugged. “I don’t really know yet. All I know is we’re involved with something incredible. Chances like this don’t come by often—In fact, this might be my only shot. I don’t want to waste it. You can go if you want to, Atsuya, but I’m staying.”
“What are you planning to do here?”
Shota looked over the row of letters on the table. “For now, I’ll write a few more letters. Communicating with someone from the pas
t is, like, insane.”
“Yeah, what he said,” Kohei concurred. “And we have to help Ms. Rabbit figure out her problem.”
Atsuya backed away, still facing them, and shook his head dramatically.
“You’re crazy. What’s gotten into you? What’s so fun about being pen pals with somebody from way back when? Give it up. Drop it. What are you gonna do if this gets outta control? I don’t want any part of it.”
“I said you can go if you want to.” Shota gave him a gentler look.
Atsuya huffed a huge sigh. He wanted to protest, but the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth.
“Whatever. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He stomped back to the tatami room to grab his bag and barreled out through the back door, without even a glance at his friends. Outside, he looked up at the sky and the full moon. It had barely moved at all.
He pulled out his phone. Remembering that its clock would automatically synchronize, he let it catch up and looked at the OLED display. Not one minute had passed since they’d called and checked the time.
Alone now, Atsuya walked through the darkness of the sparsely lit street. The night air was cold, but his cheeks were flushed red, and he didn’t care.
There’s no way, he thought.
A mail slot and a milk bin sending and receiving letters across time? With some woman named Moon Rabbit?
Bullshit. Sure, the pieces fit together, but that didn’t mean it was actually happening. There must be some mistake. Someone was screwing with them.
Even in the hypothetical case that Shota was onto something, it would be best to leave that otherworldly shit alone. Worst case, if something went wrong, nobody would come to save them. They had to have one another’s backs. That was the only reason they’d made it this far. No good ever came from relying on anyone else. Especially someone from the past. There was nothing this woman could possibly do for them.
After a few minutes, he turned onto a wider street. There were cars, but they were few and far between. Up ahead, he saw the lights of a convenience store.
He remembered the pitiful way Kohei had whined about being hungry. If the other two stayed awake any longer, they were only going to get hungrier. What were they thinking? But then again, if time wouldn’t pass, maybe they’d never get hungry.
The Miracles of the Namiya General Store Page 3
