Into the Mystic, Volume One

by Tay LaRoi

  “After we broke up, I couldn’t bring myself to ask what our time together had meant. Had she really loved me, or was I just a phase? Whatever it was, I’m over it now. If I was alive, I’d probably consider Tomoko a friend at most.”

  Ayame pulled the throw blanket from Ingrid’s sofa tighter around her shoulders. Ingrid didn’t bother to ask why. Ayame didn’t feel cold, but she’d made it clear she needed comfort like any living person.

  “That night when I died…I thought about her for a moment. I wanted to know that she was going to be happy. She lived right in Nagoya, but I couldn’t ever bring myself to go see her. She’d figure out the truth. I couldn’t stand the idea that she would be afraid of me.”

  “Ayame, I think that’s it,” Ingrid said, opening her laptop. “It’s not vengeance keeping you here, or even loneliness. It’s love.”

  Ayame scoffed. “I told you I was over her.”

  “But you just said you’d consider her a friend. Maybe that counts.”

  Ayame sighed. “Maybe, but even if I do need to see Tomoko to cross over, how are we going to find her? I doubt she’s ‘Honda Tomoko’ anymore.”

  “That’s where the internet comes in,” Ingrid said with a proud grin. “It might take a while to find her, but I’m sure we can track her down.”

  Ayame drummed her fingers on the coffee table for a moment. “Fine. The loneliness idea isn’t getting us anywhere anyhow. But can we wait until tomorrow to start looking for her? You’re still tipsy and I want to finish Adventure Time.”

  “I’m not still tipsy.”

  “You fell up the stairs.”

  “I always fall up the stairs.”

  “Yeah, but you usually catch yourself.”

  Ingrid let Ayame win. They would start their search for Tomoko tomorrow. Tonight would be dedicated to eating leftovers and watching Adventure Time.

  While the two sat on the couch, Ingrid couldn’t decide whether Ayame’s behavior was suspicious or not. Seeing an ex after forty years had to be nerve-wracking, especially considering the consequences. Ayame probably wanted to prepare herself for the shock. On the other hand, after forty years, wouldn’t she want to find her and cross over as soon as possible?

  Did Ingrid even want her to?

  The question caught her off guard. Of course she wanted Ayame to cross over. She needed to. She’d suffered enough. Besides, Ingrid wanted her life back.

  Didn’t she?

  Of course she did. She needed to figure out what her next step in life was. She couldn’t do anything with Ayame following her around.

  People figured stuff out with significant others all the time.

  Ingrid excused herself and went to take a bath. Surely some time alone would clear her head. Instead, it did the opposite. Between the heat and the alcohol still in her system, the thoughts just swam around in her head and somersaulted away from her whenever she tried to line them up in a way that made sense.

  By the time she came back, the show had ended and Ayame had fallen asleep, which Ingrid decided to consider a blessing. This way, she could have the peace and quiet needed to fall asleep.

  The next morning proved to be better, even if Ayame making breakfast did make Ingrid feel a bit more guilty than usual. Once she got preparations squared away for her class, she hunkered down with a cup of coffee and tried to play private investigator for the day.

  The movies made it look a lot more fun than it turned out to be. Ingrid kicked herself for thinking sloshing through forty years of information was going to be the least bit interesting.

  Just as she was starting to consider dragging Ayame to Osaki Hachiman shrine and asking someone there what to do with her, they struck gold. Tomoko had a few articles published in the school paper and then a few in a small special interest magazine in Nagoya. Then she popped up again when she married Ito Kotaro, a famous historical fiction novelist from Miyagi Prefecture, of all places.

  “Small world,” Ingrid commented.

  Ayame only nodded and continued to scroll through the article.

  Ito Tomoko published several books of her own through the late 80s and 90s, supernatural mysteries, oddly enough. Her last novel came out in 2005. According to her website, she still wrote for a few magazines as she lived a quiet life in Naruko, Miyagi Prefecture with her husband.

  The photo on her “About” page featured a woman with a brilliant smile and her white hair cut in a neat bob. Ingrid could see glimpses of the woman she had been in her wedding picture. She had the same bright eyes and the same grin. Ayame got to her feet before Ingrid could comment on how lovely Tomoko looked.

  “Where are you going?” Ingrid called.

  “Out,” Ayame replied. “I need some air.”

  Ingrid let her go and tried to figure out a way to contact Tomoko without raising suspicions. Apparently, Tomoko volunteered at her local library several times a week. The number for it was easy enough to find. Maybe calling there to look for her would come off as innocent enough if they came up with a believable enough story. She’d ask Ayame when she got back.

  But hours passed and she didn’t return.

  Ingrid jotted down the information she needed, cleaned the apartment, prepared everything for Monday morning, cooked dinner, took a bath and, just as the clock read eleven, Ayame walked back through the door.

  “Did you get enough air?” Ingrid asked as she dried her hair.

  “Sure.”

  “I found a number we can call in Naruko. Maybe we could present as people looking to interview Tomoko or something.”

  “Sounds good. Leave the number out and I’ll call it tomorrow.”

  Ingrid watched as Ayame curled up on the sofa. For a moment, she considered confronting her about her sudden change in attitude but then thought better of it. If Ayame wanted to share how she felt about meeting Tomoko again, she would.

  She began to rethink that method when she woke up in the morning and Ayame was still fast asleep. Waking up an entity famous for swinging giant scissors didn’t sound like a great idea, so Ingrid let her be and went to work with their next step still weighing heavily on her mind.

  Returning that evening eased her worries slightly. On the fridge hung a note.

  I called that library. Lucky for us, Tomoko was working. She thinks I’m an old college buddy named Tsuda Harumi. We go see her this Saturday. I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up for me.

  While Ingrid was relieved that Ayame had worked up the courage to call, the tone of the note bothered her. Her whole demeanor since they had started looking for Tomoko was unsettling. Why was she all of a sudden dragging her feet and getting distant? Maybe she thought it would be less painful this way. They had known from the start that their arrangement would come to an end.

  As it turned out, Ingrid didn’t get the chance to investigate. Ayame’s new habit of sleeping late and staying out until Ingrid went to bed lasted all week. Ingrid had hoped they could go out and have fun one last time too.

  Saturday morning, however, Ayame rose bright and early.

  “Okay, what gives?” Ingrid demanded as they made their way to the station. “Why have you been acting so weird?”

  “I just think better while I’m moving is all. Besides, don’t you want me gone?”

  “Not like this. You can talk to me.”

  Ayame shrugged, went quiet, and stayed that way the whole ride to Sendai station. Ingrid, however, wasn’t about to sit in uncomfortable silence the entire two-hour trip to Naruko. Once they boarded the outbound train, she pulled out her phone, put one ear bud in, and handed the other to Ayame.

  “Music always helps take my mind off things,” she explained.

  Ayame placed the bud in her ear, nodded her thanks, and turned her attention back to the thinning city outside their window. Ingrid set it to shuffle and decided just to enjoy the scenery as well.

  She didn’t spend much time in the Japanese countryside, but she had to admit that it was quite a sight. Everything fit together like puzzle
pieces. The squat square houses, the stretches of empty rice fields, and the narrow roads all nestled in the frame of huge rolling hills aglow with fall colors.

  And the ocean. God, Ingrid loved the sight of the ocean and the scraggly islands that dotted its surface. The autumn sun sparkled on the smooth surface, brighter than any star, while the giant puffy clouds above lazily drifted by. It was a scene that could lift anyone’s spirits, even Ayame’s.

  “I’ve never been to the ocean,” she muttered with her head against the glass. “It’s beautiful.” At least, Ingrid thought her mood was better, since she was talking.

  “We could get off and look around in Matsushima if you want,” Ingrid said. “I know some good tourist spots.”

  Ayame shook her head. “We’d be late. It would be rude. I’ll just beg God to send me back as a dolphin or a mermaid or something.”

  Ingrid suppressed a snicker. “You think He takes requests?”

  “I certainly hope so.” Ayame slouched in her chair and studied the worn woven design on the empty seat across from her. “If not, I’m in trouble.”

  Ingrid was afraid to ask, “What do you mean?” but forced herself to anyway.

  Ayame sunk deeper into her seat. “What if God punishes me for killing Daisuke? He could send me back as something disgusting. Or maybe my next life will be nothing but suffering. He could just send me to Hell if He’s angry enough.”

  Ingrid’s heart sank. She hadn’t thought about what might happen to Ayame once she actually crossed over. “He wouldn’t do that. You’ve been alone for forty years and the whole world thinks you’re a monster. Anything more than that wouldn’t be fair.”

  “In the grand scheme of the universe, who’s to say what’s fair? I don’t think it’s fair that I got to meet you just as I was preparing to cross over. Does that matter?” Ayame massaged her temple. “Ugh. I should have visited a temple before we went. Maybe a few shrines too.”

  “Is that why you’ve been upset all week?”

  Ayame winced and nodded.

  Ingrid watched the hills morph into mountains outside their window as she listened to her music and thought it over. “I honestly haven’t thought about God in a long time, but I think you’re going to be okay. You sat with that girl on the train so she wouldn’t feel alone. You’ve been cooking for me for two weeks when you didn’t have to. You tried to protect me from those guys outside the bar, even if they weren’t really a threat. And, if I know you—and I think I do at this point—you’ve probably done a lot more good little things than you care to admit.”

  “So?”

  “So, if the universe doesn’t care about our definition of fair, don’t you think it could cut you some slack for the good things you do?”

  Ayame sat up a little straighter. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

  “See? This is why you need to talk to me. I’m pretty smart.”

  Ayame rolled her eyes and gently shoved Ingrid. “Okay, fine. I should have talked to you. Let’s talk about something else.” She leaned over and studied Ingrid’s phone. “I like this song. What is it?”

  “‘Smile Like You Mean It’ by The Killers. My brother was big into them when we were growing up, so their music always makes me feel better when I’m down.”

  Ayame bobbed along for a few moments and then smiled. “I like it.”

  That smile, even though she couldn’t see it, made Ingrid’s heart race. She distracted herself from the thought with more music and a couple of YouTube videos for the rest of the trip. The mountains and rice fields grew larger, the towns grew smaller, and the clouds grew mistier and mingled with the hills. They kept the somber gloom outside the train while they rode, but once they arrived and stepped onto the platform, neither of them could keep it at bay any longer. At the station, they studied the wispy gray sky and the surrounding building, taking in the smell of sulfur from the natural springs the tiny village was known for.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Ingrid asked.

  Ayame shook her head. “I need to do this alone.” She pulled a few travel booklets from a nearby display. “Try to enjoy yourself. Naruko Gorge is probably beautiful, even in this weather. And then you can hit the hot springs.” She studied the timetable hanging in the station lobby. “Take the 6:10 train back. If I’m not here, assume talking to Tomoko worked.”

  Ingrid couldn’t find the words to reply, so she just nodded. Somehow she managed to force out “Good luck.”

  Ayame nodded. “You too. And thank you.”

  Ingrid took a few steps toward the bus station, but couldn’t bring herself to walk the entire way. Instead, she stopped and watched Ayame walk down the road until she disappeared around a distant corner. Even once she was gone, something akin to terror held Ingrid rooted in place. She told herself it was worry about Tomoko’s reaction to the truth. In earnest, Ingrid knew she was losing the strangest, truest love she had ever known, but she shut that realization down as the doors of the bus closed behind her.

  Seven

  The café proved easy to find since Tomoko had given Ayame good directions. It had always been that way. Whenever the two went out and got turned around, it was Tomoko who got them on the right road again. Hopefully, she could do the same now.

  But Ayame would have to force herself through the door first.

  The sight of Tomoko through the window of the café made that nearly impossible.

  She looked exactly like her picture online. She flipped a page of her book as gracefully as an artist applied a streak of paint and took a dainty sip of coffee. Tomoko had always looked like grace incarnate to Ayame. Nothing like Ingrid.

  Why did Ingrid matter all of a sudden?

  Ayame shook the thought away and entered the café.

  Tomoko looked up and stood up with a grin. Once Ayame stood close enough, she took her hands and held them tightly. To Ayame, they felt just as warm and inviting as the day they’d said goodbye. Judging by the joy on Tomoko’s face, she had forgotten all about that day. There was no confusion, no judgment, no suspicion. Just acceptance and relief.

  “You were always a terrible liar,” Tomoko chuckled. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t recognize your voice?”

  Ayame stood stunned. “You knew it was me?” she asked. “Why did you agree to meet me, then? Aren’t you afraid of me? Why didn’t you call the police?”

  Tomoko laughed again. “As if the police would believe I was being chased by the Split-Mouthed Woman. And why would I be afraid of you?” She held Ayame’s hands a bit tighter. “We vowed to be friends, even if we couldn’t be together, right?”

  All the excuses Ayame had thought of, all the reasons and explanations for her absence she had memorized fell away as tears welled in Tomoko’s eyes.

  The woman quickly wiped them away and sat down. “Forgive me. I’ve become rather sentimental in my old age.”

  Ayame flinched at the word “old” as she took her seat. “Tell me about your life,” she said. “Tell me everything I missed.”

  A mischievous glint came to Tomoko’s eyes. She bent down and pulled out a thick, brightly colored scrapbook. “I hope you have time. A lot has happened since you disappeared.”

  Somehow, Ayame found that she was smiling behind her mask. “I’ve got plenty.”

  Whatever waited beyond the grave could wait for a few more hours, so for the next two, Ayame listened to every twist and turn of Tomoko’s life. She studied the pictures in her scrapbook, judging the character of her husband, searching for traces of Tomoko’s face in those of her children and grandchildren. Every time Tomoko appeared in an image, Ayame stared at it until she was certain that the former love of her life was happy. To her relief, she was. Everyone was. She had lived a good life.

  With every page meticulously studied, Tomoko closed the book and put it back in her bag. “Enough about my quiet, uneventful life,” she muttered, leaning across the table. “I want to hear about you.”

  Ayame’s chest tightened as she tried
to decide what to say. The café sat empty, but it suddenly felt like the air itself had ears. Ayame took a deep breath and whispered, “I killed Sakurai Daisuke.”

  Tomoko nodded, her face slightly more somber. “I knew. Everyone did, regardless of what the police said.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ayame snapped.

  “Forty years and you still jump to conclusions so quickly,” Tomoko chastised. “I simply mean that, given the circumstances, it was obvious what happened. What wasn’t obvious was where you went afterward.”

  “I never killed anyone else,” Ayame quickly replied. “The stories, the movies, all of it’s false. I kept to myself and tried to lift this damn curse.”

  “I figured that’s why you came back. What took you so long?”

  “I couldn’t face you like this. Especially with all the stories floating around. I figured that if you knew the truth, you’d be terrified of me.”

  “And that fear just instantly evaporated when you decided to call?”

  Ayame paused. Some of it had to be the fact that she no longer loved Tomoko. Somehow that eased the idea of Tomoko being terrified of her. Then there was Ingrid, but what was it about the American English teacher that gave her the courage to finally contact her old flame, regardless of her feelings?

  “I made a friend,” Ayame explained. “Her name is Ingrid. She thought seeing you and making amends would help me cross over.”

  “You’d be leaving Ingrid behind if you crossed over now, though.”

  “So? I’ve been nothing but a pain for her.”

  Tomoko ticked an eyebrow as she lifted her coffee to her lips. “Truly, it’s incredible how little you’ve changed. It took you a long time to realize you were in love with me too.”

  Ayame scoffed. “No, you were just always cocky. I see you still are, so I guess you haven’t changed too much yourself.”