“They must be good, right?”
“I can’t wait. Let’s dig in,” Saki exclaimed before taking a bite.
“Ouch!”
“Oops! I forgot to warn you that they’re hot,” I apologized. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it was a bit hot, but I’m fine. Although this croquette is really tasty. It might be the best one I’ve ever had.” Saki’s eyes sparkled with delight, resembling those of a contented cat. I silently thanked Nakamura-ya for giving me the chance to witness Saki’s adorable smile.
“Keiichi, your stomach is growling,” Saki pointed out.
“Yeah, let’s eat,” I agreed.
Although the atmosphere was somewhat subdued, we continued walking south along the nocturnal streets of Arashiyama. All the shops were closed, and the only illumination came from the large orange streetlights above.
Occasionally, I found myself peering into vacant storefronts, pondering what kind of establishments they were. However, they often turned out to be high-end restaurants or inns, not the type of places that high school students like us would typically frequent.
I contemplated venturing into the city and taking the Arashiyama train, as recommended by my grandmother.
“Saki, this way,” I beckoned, leading her down the main street and turning left.
Saki followed me, asking, “To Arashiyama?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
I wanted to show Saki the Kimono Forest in Arashiyama Station. I envisioned the kimono-adorned corridor emitting a soft glow, transforming into a mesmerizing world known as the Forest of Light.
With that in mind, I stepped into the station, anticipating Saki’s fascination with the vibrant patterns adorning the traditional Japanese fabrics.
Saki noticed that the train had already arrived as we reached the square, and promptly boarded. As the train whistle sounded, indicating its departure, she looked at me with a puzzled expression.
“Keiichi-kun, are you not getting on? The train’s leaving.”
Startled, I snapped back to reality. “Ah, yeah. I’m getting on.”
I boarded the train just in time before the doors closed. Inside, we found ourselves in an empty carriage.
“It’s empty, isn’t it?” Saki commented, taking a seat beside me on the long bench.
“To tell you the truth, this is my first time riding the Arashiyama train,” Saki admitted, her voice sounding unfamiliar.
Meanwhile, I stared out the train window, searching for the picturesque scene of the Forest of Light created by the kimono corridor. But to my surprise, there was nothing. The square outside was devoid of the acrylic poles adorned with Kyoto-yuzen fabric that should have been present. It was simply an empty asphalt space.
Confusion clouded my mind. Why wasn’t the Forest of Light here? How could something visible during the day vanish at night? I couldn’t comprehend it.
“Keiichi-kun, what’s wrong?” Saki’s concerned voice brought me back to the present.
“Oh, no… It’s nothing,” I replied, trying to dismiss my perplexity.
Did I mistake the station? Or did I board from a different location? I pondered these questions as I observed the passing scenery but couldn’t find any answers.
The retro purple train carried us through the streets of Kyoto, and the view outside transformed from urban houses to the tranquility of nature. The vibrant colors of the scenery were muted by the darkness of the night, resembling an ink painting. The single-carriage train gracefully traversed this artistic landscape.
“Keiichi-kun, look at that,” Saki suddenly pointed at an advertisement hanging from the ceiling of the train.
I shifted my gaze and examined the poster. Curious words caught my attention.
“The Arashiyama Yokai Train,” Saki read out the large letters on the poster. Below the words, were numerous ghostly figures.
“Do you know about this train?” she inquired while I examined the poster.
“No, I don’t,” I replied truthfully, captivated by the detailed depictions of familiar ghosts such as the Nekomusume (Catgirl), Konaki-jiji (Crying Old Man), and Ittan-momen (One Bolt of Cotton).
Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the ghosts in the poster were wearing wigs and makeup, and some even had masks. Their costumes appeared handcrafted, lending a sense of realism to their ghostly disguises. The gazes of these eerily realistic ghosts seemed to follow our every move.
“What could this be?” I murmured, listening intently to Saki’s voice. It seemed that during a specific period in late August, the Randentransformed into the Yokai Train, with yokai (supernatural creatures) aboard. As someone who usually only used the Hankyū Electric Railway, it was my first time on the Arashiyama Electric Railway, just like Saki.
I thought the only notable difference from the Hankyū Electric Railway was that this was a tram. However, the Arashiyama Electric Railway seemed to hold various seasonal events on the train. Saki stared anxiously at the posters advertising these events.
“Do you want to ride the Yokai Train?” I asked her, intrigued by her curiosity.
“No,” she shook her head. “I’m not good with horror.”
I couldn’t help but notice the flicker of interest in her eyes as she spoke.
“So…?” I urged her to continue, and she looked at me with surprise before a smile of relief spread across her face.
“So… I don’t really want to ride it, but I’m a little curious about what kind of train it is.”
“If I tried to convince you to come with me…?”
“Hmm… I might hesitate for a moment, but I might ride it, thinking it could be fun.”
Despite the potential fright, she seemed willing to give it a try. I wondered if this was what it felt like to enter a haunted house while being scared — an apprehensive excitement. Personally, I felt no fear.
“But there will be a yokai sitting next to you, right? That’s pretty scary, isn’t it?”
Seeing Saki’s terrified expression, I couldn’t help but smile. It would be amusing to see her react with a hundred faces. However, it would be a tremendous shock if she suddenly found herself on a train full of yokai after not being in town for seven years. That’s why I thought it was best for her to simply admire the posters for now.
Again, I couldn’t help but think I would like to ride this train with her someday.
“It says here that passengers can also dress up,” I mentioned, hoping to pique her curiosity despite her fear.
Her eyes sparkled with interest. “Really?”
“And if you’re recognized as a yokai, you get a yokai certification seal, and the fare is only fifty yen.”
“That sounds like fun,” she replied, her tone betraying a hint of excitement.
“Yeah, it does,” I responded, and we shared a laugh. Our laughter brought us closer than I had expected. As the train swayed gently along the tracks, our shoulders would occasionally touch, and then we would separate. Each time, a small flame would ignite within me, causing my chest to tighten. I couldn’t help but notice the warmth on my shoulder where Saki had touched me, drawing my attention to that spot.
I subtly adjusted my position, slightly moving away from her so she wouldn’t hear my pounding heart.
“If you ride the Yokai Train, will you dress up as a yokai?” I asked, trying to divert attention from my racing heartbeat.
“Hmm, if I were a kid, maybe,” she replied thoughtfully.
“You look like a cat girl, don’t you?” I suggested playfully.
“Eh? I’d rather be Nurarihyon,” she responded.
“What kind of yokai is that?”
“Don’t you know? It appeared in GeGeGe no Kitarō,” she explained.
“I’ve never seen it. What kind of yokai is it? Is it a girl?”
“It’s a short yokai with a big head,” she said.
“Oh, really?”
“Old man.”
“I’m an old man,” I quipped back.
Her remark was so amusing that I laughed until my stomach hurt.
The train eventually reached its final stop at Shijō-Ōmiya Station. We disembarked, transferred to the Hankyū Line at Ōmiya Station across the platform, and traveled two more stations to Kawaramachi Station.
Emerging from the station, we found ourselves surrounded by unfamiliar scenery — the bustling streets of Kyoto stretched out before us.
Um… was it this way? I hesitated, feeling slightly embarrassed to consult the notes I had scribbled down.
Suddenly, we noticed a corner bustling with people flowing like a wave. We turned left there and entered a street labeled Kiyamachi-dori, walking northward amid the crowd.
Yes, this should be it. Grandma said to walk along Kiyamachi-dori…
A shallow river flowed alongside Kiyamachi-dori, its water so clear that we could see the stones on the riverbed. This street exuded the ambiance of old Kyoto. Several small bridges crossed the river, and a myriad of shops crowded together beyond them. Couples were waiting their turn in front of shops where crowds had gathered.
Even though it was nighttime, the Shijō-dori was teeming with people. It was a stark contrast to the tranquil town of Arashiyama at night.
As we walked, my heart felt restless amidst the unfamiliar scenery and complex street layout. Which way should we go on this street? To the right? To the left? Straight ahead? The sea of people made it difficult to discern the corners — I couldn’t even see them clearly.