Quiet, melodic, it came out of nowhere and everywhere at the same time. I opened my eyes sharply. A familiar village stretched out before me, faded by time, but painfully familiar.
We had arrived at my grandparents' house.
It stood at the back of the garden, bathed in the soft, diffused light of the moon. Even at the best of times, this village was not bright, and at night it dissolved into shadows. But tonight I saw everything so clearly, as if the moonlight had deliberately highlighted every detail. Every blade of grass on the threshold, every pattern on the walls, every dark crevice in the old wooden boards.
I took a step forward. The gravel path echoed with a familiar crunch, echoing across the deserted lot.
The gray roof of the dog kennel was hidden by the branches of a young tree, but I knew it was there, next to the unfinished brick building. The animal bowls stood in the same place by the door - with unfinished water and leftover food. Everything was exactly as I remembered it.
Except for one thing.
No one was waiting for me.
The dog's chain was sprawled out on the gravel, shedding its carrier. The leftovers in the bowl looked more like plastic filler than actual food and water. And the birds... their voices sounded artificial, too crisp, too repetitive, like a record.
— They say people's whole lives flash by before they die: regrets for things not done, things missed, and things they don't want to let go of.
— So you knew what I was thinking before I died? Then what was the show for?
— I was hoping you'd share it with me of your own free will. But instead, you accepted death.
The ghosts didn't exist. It was all just flashes of memory coming to life. Those who claimed to hear the voices of the dead saw only the deception of their minds clinging to the past. And I am no exception.
Standing here, among the ruins of my memories, I could almost believe that the door was about to open and my grandmother would come out onto the porch with a flashlight in her hand, ready to meet me at the gate after a late walk. That Kaido would snap out of his seat, rattling his chain, checking to see who was walking in the yard. How my mom will tell me off next, how excited my little brother will greet me, and how my grandfather will just laugh at everything that happens. I see it all, hear it all.
But what does this place mean without them? Would it be dear to me if there were no trace of them here? I doubt it.
— You see, this place was indeed special to me, like so many others. But not by itself. It was made important by important people - family, friends, everyone who was around. It would be a lie to say that I always wanted to be alone.....
The girl hid her hands behind her back, looking up at the sky.
— I see, — she said quietly, 'That makes sense.
The next hour or so was spent exploring the places I remembered well. The ones that didn't come to mind were filled with something vague, either the girl's imagination or my own. I wasn't sure, to be honest.
The houses I knew stood where they were supposed to be - with peeling fences, faded shutters. The rest of them, woven from guesswork, looked fake, like they'd been drawn from a child's drawing.
If anyone wanted to joke that I was the author of this oddball architecture, no, thank you very much, I'm quite a good artist.
Sometimes a lantern I didn't remember would suddenly appear in front of us, or a carved bench at an empty intersection. These details appeared by themselves, and I couldn't tell who had thought them up.
The road was completely empty, which wasn't surprising - there was no one to walk or drive here but the two of us. But even where in my memories it hadn't been there at all, where people got into their cars right on the dirt road, there was now a perfectly smooth highway. Not asphalted, no - more like drawn in pale lines right on top of the ground.
We walked along this dead road, and every step I took was the only sound accompanying us. At some point, I don't remember which one, the birds stopped singing, and the rustling of the leaves died away with the wind. Of course, going out of the wicket, I had a definite destination, but what it was and where it was, was already forgotten.
I never ventured inside. Not that it would have made any difference, but.... I guess I was afraid. Afraid of what I might see in there. Or rather, what I might not see anymore.
We wandered the deserted street and talked - probably for the first time so much. Her voice sounded as light as her gait. The girl didn't seem to fit in too well with the atmosphere of the village. She seemed too... pretentious or something. I, on the other hand, seemed like I could fit in anywhere: I'd be lost in the city crowd, but here I'd just be out of sight. But that didn't mean she didn't belong here. On the contrary, right now, besides the moon, she was the brightest thing in this ghostly world. So bright that her clear, warm smile was enough to make me want to remember every moment I spent with her.
I guess that's one of the perks of being beautiful. Hmm, or is it just me being so simple-minded?
Eventually we reached the dam where the small lake started. It had been the subject of many bad rumors in its day, but even that didn't stop us from swimming in it. The water seemed perfectly smooth now, but unlike Moon Lake, you couldn't see the bottom - it was too murky.
— I think I'm ready now, — I looked around before I looked her in the eye, — Those places that once lost their importance can regain it, if you're with me.
When she turned, I smelled something familiar. A warm, soothing scent that I couldn't remember. The only thing I knew was that it made me feel calm and good in my soul. But I guess that didn't matter. This was the first time my nostrils had picked up anything in all this time, and the reason was her.
— Was it? Then I probably shouldn't go along with you.
— Hey? Wait, but why? — I panicked.
She hummed.
— Just kidding, — she said, how clever she was at knocking the ground out from under my feet with just one phrase. — Don't you think it's rude to have your injuries healed at my expense?
— No, wait, that's not what I meant! — I waved my hands in the air, justifying myself.
— Hmph, I see.
What did she mean by that? I have no idea. Did she believe me? Unlikely. Was I really trying to take advantage of her kindness? Maybe. After all, she knows best.
— I'm sorry if I offended you. I was too stupid to think before I spoke, — I bowed my head in apology.
She was taken aback. Her eyes went wide, but the next moment she was laughing. The girl clutched her stomach, rocking back and forth, and then, wiping away a lone tear, she exhaled with a smile:
— Oh gods, what kind of pathetic look is that? — she laughed even louder, — Don't be silly, I was really just joking. Isn't... isn't that what friends are for?
She made a vague emphasis on the word 'friends' before her lips parted in a wide, affectionate smile. I had no choice but to give in and smile back at her.
— Let's go then, — the girl said.
She spun around like a fallen leaf picked up by the wind and started on her way. She walked as if bouncing, and it seemed that at any moment she could start floating above the ground. Maybe she was happy now.
I watched as her hair swept up, then lay softly on her shoulders. That glowing pollen was nowhere to be found, and now they looked quite ordinary. Beautiful, but ordinary. I wondered how it worked.
— Where?
She tilted her head slightly, as if puzzled by the question.
— Hmm? Isn't it obvious? To the station.
Obvious? No, it wasn't obvious at all. What station? It's never been here. Uh. only if it's a bus station, in a way.
— No, no, no, no, — she turned to wave her finger in front of my nose, — We'll take the train.
Knowing the girl's abilities, I had no doubt that she was serious. The only question was: where and how should he appear?
I followed the girl, wandering through narrow alleys where the walls of the houses shrank away, leaving only a thin strip of sky. The light of the streetlamps didn't reach here, but the moon still found its way through, outlining a faded path beneath our feet. These buildings were too close together, and it seemed to me that this place was becoming more and more imaginable. But I still couldn't figure out who it belonged to.
At first they were the same houses I remembered: with peeling facades, crooked fences, and windows that no one looked out of anymore. But the farther we walked, the higher the walls got, and the wider the streets became. Ordinary houses were replaced by two-story houses, then three-story houses. At some point, I noticed that we were walking along stone fences, and when I looked up, I saw the windows of high-rise buildings above us.
When did this happen? I didn't notice. Nor did I notice that there was no longer a village behind us. The place from which we had moved out was now filled with many high-rise buildings and stores. Everything happened so smoothly that it seemed like it had always happened.
It was as subtle as the change of seasons. Yesterday the trees were still standing in thick green, and today their leaves were already underfoot.
Along the way, we were greeted by signs of screaming colors. The inscriptions on them were in a language unknown to me, but, for some reason, I had no trouble understanding them. Their strange names raised questions for me, but I hesitated to ask.
Our bond with her was too fragile for me to inquire. On the contrary, I could only be a questioner. Sometimes it seemed to me that the slightest gust of wind could blow us apart.
I was walking on a thin rope over a ditch with crocodiles. If I hesitated, the girl wouldn't even blink and the ground beneath my feet would explode. Our relationship didn't make me feel safe. Literally.
I lifted my head when I felt her gaze on me. She squinted, looking over my shoulder. There was a cold, almost contemptuous calmness in that gaze. It sent chills down my spine. I tried to smile, but before my lips could part, she'd already turned away.
I think she heard everything, didn't she?
I'm sorry.
That short stretch of time as we walked, I walked trying not to think. She was someone who had reached out to me many times before. I should have trusted her instead of ruining what brought us together in every way possible.
A few minutes later, a station appeared in front of us. At first glance, it looked like hundreds of others, with dim lights and austere metal structures. But when we looked at it a little longer, everything began to blur: the outlines softened and sharpened, like a memory that could not be caught in full clarity.
At the entrance we were greeted by turnstiles. They clicked and opened themselves as soon as we approached. Silently, without any unnecessary movement. If in my lifetime I had been allowed in for free, how much could I have saved!?
Pushing aside unnecessary thoughts, I stepped onto the escalator leading down. We descended into a spacious lobby with high ceilings, where soft light reflected off the polished slabs. The space was both familiar and repulsively alien - the way a city that you once lived in but have managed to forget is.
Looking around the platform and the tracks, the name of a place like this rolled around on my tongue. But as soon as I grasped the tail, it was as if I swallowed it before I could taste it. And with that, the air was filled with a growing rumble.
First a slight vibration, barely perceptible, as if the station's heart was beating faster. Then a shudder underfoot. The light lurched, then flashed brighter. The metal reflected it with flashes, and already a swift shadow slipped through the tunnel.
The train had arrived.
The doors opened just as we stepped down onto the platform, as if the schedule had been adjusted to fit our steps.
I looked at the girl. She grinned and stepped lightly onto the train. I followed her.
On the train, the girl and I sat in silence. It wasn't that we had nothing to talk about, but because each of us was busy contemplating the scenery outside the window.
Some places whizzed by, leaving behind a vague sense of deja vu, as if I'd been here before, but couldn't remember when or under what circumstances. I recognized the mall where I often spent time, but something about it was wrong: the signs weren't where they used to be, the storefronts seemed too deep, receding into the void. Then we glimpsed a familiar intersection, but the streetlights shone with a strange, slightly gray light, and the asphalt looked too smooth, as if it had just been poured, and no living thing had yet had time to walk across it.
We crossed the city, but it was as if it didn't notice us. The train glided along tracks I'd never seen in the neighborhood, but they appeared exactly where it needed to go. It moved through familiar streets, yards, even past my old office, only now the windows were empty, without the usual silhouettes of employees lingering at work.
Then the forest began. It was thick, almost impenetrable, and I wondered where the railroads had come from if there weren't even any footpaths. The train went straight ahead, and the trees that stood in the way seemed to disappear into thin air, giving way to the tracks, and then closed in behind us again, leaving only darkness.
It seemed to me that the world wasn't just left behind, it seemed to be erased. That's right, the past belongs in the past, and only the future awaits me. For the first time, it seemed, I was looking forward instead of drowning in the present.
I cast a glance at the girl. She was silently watching all of this. The lights from the light sources left behind were playing in her eyes, and her face, now, was the most magical sight this world had to offer.
— Your magic is amazing. How do you do it? — I asked.
She just shook her head, and I didn't know if she was in denial or just didn't want to answer.
We reached the first stop. Then the next. And after that, we traveled on foot. Probably the intermediate memories were over and only the important ones were ahead of us. Of course, I wasn't sure who counted them as such, but either way, it was fun.
We walked into familiar places - bars, cafes, restaurants - that I'd been to in my lifetime. At first glance, everything was exactly as it had been before: the same tables, the same dim lights, the signs burning with neon fatigue. But if you listened closely, it became clear that there was not a soul around. No customers, no waiters, just us and the silence broken by our voices.
Food appeared on its own as soon as one of us read out the names on the menu. The dishes looked flawless: golden crust, rich texture, and a flavor that made my stomach churn. But once you tasted it, the flavor disappeared. Everything was bland, like it was made of plastic.
I watched the girl with interest, her eyebrows furrowed as she tasted the food again and again, as if hoping that next time it would be different. Finally, she put down her chopsticks and looked at me with annoyance-as if I had personally deceived her. I didn't hold back a chuckle.
— You don't even know what this is, do you? — I asked, nodding at the plate.
She only squinted skeptically, but didn't answer.
I'd never been a foodie, taking food for granted. Only the shapes, colors, textures were imprinted in my memory, but not the taste. And she seemed to create dishes relying only on the picture, not knowing what was behind it. In a way, we were both to blame.
But her experiments didn't end there.
She picked up the mug and carefully took a sip of the golden, foamy drink. A bewildered expression flashed across her face-so obvious that I almost choked on my laughter.
— This is... Hmm... That's... It's awful.
She ran her tongue over her lips, licking off the foam, and at that moment she looked so serious that I couldn't stand it and burst into laughter.
On this point, I could be sure. I did a lot of tastings before I found establishments that served decent beer. If it was too sour, the keg was old. If it was bland, it was diluted with water. If it was too pungent, it was over-hopped. I remembered all these nuances and chose with extreme precision.
Perhaps that's why I didn't remember the taste of the food. After a few cups, I didn't care what I ate, as long as I could get the aftertaste out of my mouth.
The girl was sitting across from him, and her gaze seemed both attentive and detached at the same time. Her expression changed subtly, from slight irritation to something like curiosity. She held the mug, as if weighing this new experience in her hand, and then took another sip with perfect equanimity.
There was something in her manner that made one stare. Not beauty in the usual way, but a combination of casualness and some inner dignity. She blended easily into any background, yet she invariably stood out. If there were people here, they would surely notice her, not because she was conspicuous, but because it was impossible otherwise.
She set the mug aside and looked at me thoughtfully, her head tilted slightly to the side.
— But it looks curious, — she said.
I laughed again, making bubbles and dousing myself with beer. Nothing new, though.
As soon as we left the place, the landscape around us began to change. The asphalt beneath our feet became softer, draped in lush greenery, as if someone invisible had begun to erase the streets, replacing them with a living carpet of grass. Space opened up ahead, and before I knew it, we were standing on top of a hill studded with flowering phlox.
Thousands of cherry trees surrounded us, their petals swirling in the air as the wind picked them up, covering the ground in a soft pink blanket. They didn't just fall-they seemed to float around us.
My gaze chased the falling blossoms until it finally stopped on her.
As trivial as it sounds, I marveled again at the image of the girl. In the moonlight, surrounded by a swirl of petals, she looked especially magical. I wanted to tell her so, but before I could open my mouth, one of the petals touched my lips, a silent sign to keep silent. So I preferred to smile as I continued to watch her.
Step by step, our journey continued. I didn't immediately notice how the grass was replaced by a smooth, dry crust of earth. The wind, which a moment ago should have brought the scent of blossoming trees, now carried a brackish bitterness that made my throat sore and my skin tingle.
We went forward. Under our feet, the black surface of the earth was black, as if oil had seeped out of the ground. In the moonlight its boundaries were lost, dissolved, turning the surface of the water into a torn sky. Only the stars remained in place-not above, but below us, reflected in the liquid glass. It didn't move, not even in the gusts of wind.
I remembered the warmth of this place well-the sticky heat, the drops of sweat running down your skin before you dipped into the water, and the cold wind that blasted you right after a shower.
I glanced at the girl-she squatted down, dipped her fingers into the water, and looked at them thoughtfully.
— How interesting, — she murmured.
I couldn't help but agree with her. I think I'd heard a story somewhere about a man who once walked on water. It wasn't the same place, of course, but the way we moved easily across the water reminded me of it for some reason. Looking at the legend from this angle, it didn't seem so fantastic anymore. Perhaps someone like her existed in my world, too.
I looked around at my surroundings. Just like then, there was nothing of note around me. The water was moving farther away, leaving behind abandoned buildings, echoes of beaches, and marks on the cliffs, traces of where it had once reached.
This desiccated landscape, drenched in salty bitterness, couldn't help but leave me with a sense of loss.
Why? Perhaps it was because I felt a strange sentimentality as I went through these stages anew.
I shifted my gaze to the girl. Her long hair moved in the breeze, and the shadow of her eyelashes fluttered against her skin. Under her fingers, the thin film of salt crumbled, leaving a whitish trace on her skin, and for some reason at that moment I thought, When will this end? Obviously, when we get to the end. And beyond that? Would I be able to stay with her, or would I just be a fleeting touch, like this white residue that the first wave would wipe away?
— You think too much. It's not healthy, — she said, touching her palm to my cheek.
It took me a few moments to pull myself out of my thoughts and back to reality. When I realized what was happening, I felt the heat rising to my face, but I still found the strength to respond:
— You decided to wipe your hands on me? That's not how it works!
A strange expression flashed across her face that I couldn't interpret. But after a moment, she laughed..... and actually started wiping her hand on my cheek!
— Stop it! Stop fooling around, — I frowned and waved her away.
— You're the one who should stop fooling around. My hands are perfectly clean. See? — She twirled her palms in front of my face defiantly.
— Huh, apparently all the salt is already on my face!
— Oh, are you sure about that? Why don't you check it out?
She bowed her head and smiled slyly. I wasn't sure what she meant, but I did as instructed - I ran my fingers over my cheek. There was no stickiness, no roughness - just the warmth left by her touch.
— You're flushed, — she said with a grin, — Are you more impressed by indirect touch than direct? You're so weird.
My face flushed even more, and she laughed again.
— Come on. Let's move on already
— Hee-hee, we're already here. Can't you see?
— We're here? See what? — I asked in confusion.
I tilted my head to the side, scrutinizing the girl, and she repeated after me like a parrot.
— Very funny, — I muttered, narrowing my eyes. But, admittedly, even that was cute.
I leveled myself and shook my head-she repeated after me, with a slight delay, like she was mimicking me. I frowned, and her face immediately had the exact same expression on it, but with a tinge of mockery.
It was like playing with my reflection, but the mirror suddenly had a mind of its own. The only thing that distinguished us was obviously our looks, and the fact that my hair didn't move as beautifully as hers.
With each new look, I seemed to see a new side of her, as if I was slowly making my way around. Her eyes shone as they had never shone before, and the slight smile began to disturb me. She was like a mischievous child up to some mischief.
As was often the case, I couldn't make out anything from the expression on her face, and that was probably the cause of my anxiety.
Of course, as time went on, her strange antics didn't seem so strange to me anymore. But still, she was like a skilled magician, always ready to pull something unimaginable out of her hat.
.
And then... We traveled. The snow-capped hills spread out before us like frozen waves, and the running rivers whispered their stories with splashes of water - though I never saw a single fish. In the forests, the leaves were still trembling from the past rain, and the mountains rose from steep cliffs to gentle slopes covered with a soft carpet of fallen leaves. We saw beaches - sandy, wild, rocky. Everything around us was familiar. It was like walking in your own footprints imprinted in the snow. The only difference was that there were two more pairs of feet.
How would my life be different if she was always around? We'd come home together after work, chatting leisurely on the way home from the supermarket. In the evenings we'd watch something we both liked, or just sit buried in books. On vacation, we could visit places like this, picnic under the sakura, or spend it inside the walls of the house, avoiding sunlight like vampires. We'd talk before bed, and the first thing I'd see in the morning would be her face, first asleep, then still a little sleepy, with a lazy smile and a reluctant awakening.
Perhaps, no, more likely, my life would have lasted just a little longer
I soon found my thoughts returning to the girl again and again.
And the more I thought about it, the clearer one truth emerged, like an image on an old photographic film slowly revealing itself in the light.
When did it happen? In retrospect, somehow I think it was from the beginning. I was probably too preoccupied with myself to accept it, or even notice it. I was like a fool rummaging around looking for the key while it was in my hand.
Of course, it could have been a simple infatuation caused by the lack of other people around us, but I wasn't entirely sure. Given my dysfunctional brain and heart, the question remained, where did this feeling come from? It wasn't clear.
— Where are we going now?
— To a good place
— Hmm? A good place?
What would that mean to her? What place would she consider good if we had already been to Moon Lake? As I continued walking, I pondered this for a long time, but couldn't come up with anything.
The journey of a thousand li begins with the first step. It's amazing how much we had to walk before we ended up here.
The house I lived in was neither a new high-rise with shiny glass facades nor a cozy Japanese-style mansion. It was an old, two-story apartment building, the kind of building not many of which remained in Tokyo. Cream-colored walls, cracked plaster in some places, a roof of blackened tiles that had survived more than one summer and more than one winter.
The main staircase was common - long, metal, it stretched along the facade, creaking under footsteps. The paint had peeled over the years, leaving rust stains, but the railing was still sturdy, albeit cold to the touch. On each floor went identical doors, hiding small apartments behind them. Some decorated with nameplates, others plain, faceless.
There was no garden with perfectly trimmed trees or carp ponds in the courtyard. Only an asphalt path leading to the gate, narrow streets of earth by the walls, where someone had planted flowers, and someone just left a couple of old pots with already dried up plants. Bicycles stood near the entrance - some chained to the rack, some just leaned against the wall, as if the owners knew no one would touch them.
In summer the air smelled of fried fish and soy sauce, in winter of something hot, with a slight tang of gas as the tenants cooked dinner. In the evening, the light from the windows blurred in warm spots, and if you listened closely, you could hear the noise of televisions, the clinking of dishes, and voices-not loud, but lively, creating an atmosphere where it felt like you weren't quite alone.
— And this is the "good" place? — I asked the girl.
— You don't like it?
— Not that...
— "Places that once lost their importance to me can regain it with you", — she reminded me, drawing a circle in the air with her finger.
Her logic was hard to argue with, especially when she was quoting my own words. I grimaced, but had to agree. But why this particular place? What made it "good"? Both then and now, I couldn't understand her.
There was nothing special about this place. A bird would hardly call the bars of a cage "good" if it was lucky enough to get out one day.
All I could say was that my life ended here. This was the end. The only one. Among hundreds of commas.
We walked slowly up to the second floor. The steps echoed with a familiar creak, and the banister was cold. The landscape outside the stairwell remained hidden by the high-rise buildings - by day they cast a gloomy shadow, and at night they turned into a frightening silhouette of all-consuming progress.
In the windows of neighboring apartments there was light - somewhere dim, barely visible, somewhere bright, leaving warm paths of light. It seemed that life was boiling behind these walls, but there was no one but us. There was no one else.
— Open it. There should be a key in your pocket, — the girl said, stopping at the door.
I gave her a puzzled look before rummaging through my pockets. This whole world belonged to her, but she was amazingly polite about respecting other people's boundaries, wasn't she?
Fumbling for the key, I took it out, inserted it into the lock, and turned it. The door opened.
— Let me in, — she said loudly as she stepped through the door.
The hallway greeted me with a coldness that wasn't tangible, but rather phantom. My own apartment seemed so distant, so foreign.
In my mind's eye I could see that morning, me and that hallway. But I could hardly visualize my face at that moment: more like an image embellished by my own desire. It was hard to say whether it was better or worse than reality.
Bitterness slid across my tongue, leaving behind the tang of metal. I wrinkled my nose, but the sensation vanished as quickly as it had appeared, as if it hadn't even been there. Only a faint aftertaste lingered for a moment before dissolving. Everything around me slowly lost its colors, as if to bring me back to the place where nothing was left.
Darkness enveloped my body, trying to plunge me into its depths. I didn't want to know what was at its bottom, so I wandered - wandered, following the fireflies.
Eyes wide open, I put my palm to my neck and crunched my vertebrae sharply. A muffled click echoed in the silence of the hallway, as if shaking my frozen thoughts.
I wonder if that image I'd been reaching for... Those fireflies that led me... That was you, wasn't it?
I wanted to ask her that so badly. I wanted to know so badly. But I decided to put it behind me, staring confidently into the present.
I looked up at the girl. She was smiling serenely, looking at me over her shoulder. In that moment, she was shining brighter than that figure made entirely of light. I smiled back at her and stepped inside, closing the door behind me.
— I'm home, — I think it was the first time I'd ever said those words in this apartment, not into the void.