For a while, I tried to lie quietly in bed, but eventually I gave up and opened my eyes. It was pitch black either way. Fumbling on all fours, I felt around until I found the console and controller. As I turned the console on, I averted my eyes from the TV screen’s sharp light, staring at the wall until they had adjusted.
I had decided to stay up playing video games instead of sleeping. Surely this was a smart choice that would have no lasting repercussions for my circadian rhythm.
I loaded my save from earlier that evening, at which point I had reached level eight. My fingers moved half on autopilot while I zoned out—so hard I saw double. I could see Adachi seated amid the blur, however. She was once again wearing her uniform, her limbs half-concealed in the darkness.
“It sounds like I might die soon,” I informed her. As she frowned, I continued, “The girl can be oddly convincing about these things.”
Yashiro was a terrible liar, after all, so I’d have known right away if she was fibbing.
“Does it bother you?”
“Well, sure. Everyone worries about it when they get older.”
“Are you scared to die?”
For a moment, my fingers fell still, but I continued to face the screen.
“Mmm, not really,” I answered, as though I was stepping forward onto even ground. Perhaps it was common to have regrets at this stage, but I’d already lost everything. “If you were still around, though, I’d be scared stiff to leave you all alone.”
“I’m not so sure about that…”
“I’m serious! Poor little Adachi-chan. You’d spend every day crying your eyes out.”
“Th-that’s…probably true, actually.”
“That’s why I think we were meant to go in this order.” Not that I much liked having been left behind myself. Meanwhile, Adachi had glanced over at me with her shoulders slumped, as if she was disappointed about something. “Yes? What is it?” I pressed.
“Just wondering if…if you ever cry about me.”
“What? Didn’t you see me at your funeral?”
“I was dead!”
“Oh, right.” I chuckled softly.
“So you cried?” she asked, her face faintly flushed with joy.
What’re you so happy about, you meanie? “Of course I cried.”
But in truth, I hadn’t shed many tears at all. Crying took energy I no longer had.
“You mean it?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”
“I feel like you’d cry harder over a dead dog.”
“Well…I mean…hmm,” I fumbled, hastily stopping myself from admitting that she was right. When she pouted, I continued, “You know how dogs can’t talk?”
“Uh…yeah?”
“They can’t understand anything I want to tell them. So, when they die, all those feelings just…come rushing out all at once. That’s what I think,” I concluded, before Adachi could get a word in edgewise. Then I pointed at the screen to change the subject. “More importantly, how come your attack stat is so low?”
“I’m a healer!”
“You need to help while Hino gads about.” We couldn’t divvy the game’s workload up like household chores—we needed to coordinate our efforts.
Adachi rose to her feet and walked over to me. She looked so much younger now that I felt out of place next to her.
“Shimamura…”
“Yeees?”
“Thank you for…um…staying until the very end,” she mumbled, gripping her skirt’s hem anxiously. “I wanted to tell you that, but I died in my sleep, so…I couldn’t.”
“Ah, yeah…” I paused to think of the right way to word my reply, but what came out of my mouth was, “You died well. I was happy—I mean, I was relieved, you know? That you felt no pain.” Our sparse vocabularies were glaringly apparent when it came to this sensitive subject.
“Yeah, but I abandoned you… I’m sorry…”
“Nah, it’s okay. You still come visit, don’t you?” Then I realized: perhaps this was an opportunity for me to convey some gratitude of my own. “Thank you for staying with me after death.”
She smiled awkwardly, as if she was out of practice—every bit the Adachi I’d once known. “But I’m an illusion.”
“I know, but…hmmmm. Yeah, I think it’ll happen soon.”
Adachi’s eyes widened, and we gazed at each other up close for a moment.
“I’m not sure when it started, but your voice sounds way closer now,” I explained, smiling.
After I lost her, I’d only ever heard her voice as an echo in the back of my head—but now I could hear it as though she were right beside me. Outside my body. And since I was rather enjoying that, maybe I shouldn’t have pointed it out…because the moment I did, she vanished. Wanting the conversation to continue, I began to close my eyes, chasing after the voice as it retreated back inside my skull. Then I thought better of it and looked up.
“That’s a Priest for you, I suppose.” She had given my heart all the sustenance it needed.
Maybe I was wrong about there being no such thing as ghosts. Maybe, in order to see them, you simply had to be close enough to death. If so, maybe I’d see a lot more of Adachi from now on. The future ahead of me was bright indeed.
“Spending a whole day on nothing but memories and silly games… For the first time, I’m starting to think that old age isn’t so bad.”
With those final words, I directed my eyes in front of me.
I didn’t see or hear Adachi for the rest of the night.