He’d been concerned that these visions were, in a way, an invasion of his friend’s privacy. Everybody had things in their lives they didn’t want other people to know about. He would never have guessed Mononobe wanted to show Aoyama these moments. He’d witnessed Mononobe arguing with his mother, staring off into space, even having sex with a young lady who may or may not have been his girlfriend. All very private experiences. Not the kind of thing you’d normally share with anyone.
Mononobe seemed to guess what Aoyama wanted to ask from the tone of his voice.
“I-it ain’t like I was gettin’ off on showin’ you that stuff. That ain’t how I get my jollies.”
He sounded a little bit flustered. It was kind of cute to see him acting his age for once.
“But you seen a lot through my eyes, right?”
“Yes. I always end up impressed with how great you are.”
“That’s ’cause yer only focusin’ on the good.”
There was a light scuffing sound, probably from Mononobe activating the speakerphone.
“Ya get what I mean now?” he jeered. “How kin ya possibly call me ‘great’ after all the miserable failures I shown ya?”
“You, fail? I don’t…”
“Then whatcha call this?!”
Mononobe practically spat the words out, and Aoyama was assailed with a terrible headache. He couldn’t keep his eyes open. A sound like a frog being squashed escaped his mouth. He couldn’t stop it. His eyelids stayed clamped shut of their own accord. This made a normal migraine look tame in comparison. It was like fireworks were being let off inside his skull, and at the same time, images started flooding into his mind.
A woman covered in blisters and pockmarks. A baby doll. A face covered in scales. A young man dragging his feet behind him. A broken tombstone. Arms won’t move. A girl crawling on all fours. Can’t get down from the mountain. A black shadow stalking through the forest. A child spending their whole life asleep. Couldn’t save anyone. A person throwing themselves into a gorge. Legs won’t move. An old man spitting on me and leaving. Can’t apologize—it’s already too late. Endless rain. Electric cables hanging from the ceiling. Markings on a wall. A smiling woman. Can’t do anything.
I can’t do anything; I just want to end it all. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it. Want to end it.
“Y’see?”
Mononobe’s voice seemed to come from a long way off. Aoyama felt a thump on his shoulder. He began coughing violently. Rumi was standing next to him, giving him a fierce glare… No, she wasn’t looking at Aoyama, but at his phone. At Mononobe.
“This is why I didn’t want to get you involved. I just knew you’d end up doing something weird, Mononobe. What the hell were you trying to do?!”
Rumi was yelling. This was probably the first time Aoyama had seen her show such open, undisguised emotion.
“Can’t ya just stay put and mind yer business while I’m talkin’ to Aoyama?”
Mononobe’s voice still had that strangely clear, carrying quality. Even with Aoyama pressing the phone to his ear, Rumi could hear him all the same.
“Why should I listen to anything you say?” Rumi showed no signs of backing down. “This man is mine. I’ll thank you not to interfere with him.”
Mononobe replied with a self-deprecating laugh.
“My bad. I don’t do so well with subtlety; this was the only way I could make my point.”
Rumi stood there frowning a while longer but finally resigned herself and went back to the sofa. Sensing that she’d left, Mononobe resumed his side of the conversation.
“See what thinkin’ you can do anythin’ gets you?”
Aoyama recalled the stream of nightmares he’d been subjected to. They were things he’d seen before. Things he hadn’t wanted to see. Things he’d tried to ignore, to act like they didn’t exist. He hadn’t wanted to believe some people were so beyond saving that not even Mononobe could do anything for them.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a quavering voice. “You tried to share these experiences with me, and I acted like I hadn’t seen them, asking you for your help like it was nothing…”
“Feels like you still don’t get what I’m tryin’ to say.”
It was a detached way of speaking, but Aoyama didn’t sense any animosity in the words. Mononobe’s tone felt more resigned than anything.
“This ain’t about me. You and Rumi are out there actin’ like you can do it all, that there ain’t no problem you can’t solve.”
Still unsure of what the young shaman was getting at, Aoyama stayed quiet and let him continue.
“Ain’t a lot of folks who can do the job we do. That’s just the way it is. People admit defeat and pack in the whole thing every day. Still, though…”
There was a clear, bright sound then, like the ringing of a bell. Aoyama began to feel dizzy, but not in a bad way.
“…if you’re determined to try even when it does look impossible… This girl who has the curse on her. Look for what you missed. Figure that out, an’ you might just find somethin’ worthwhile.”
“Huh?”
The sudden pivot to a concrete hint took Aoyama by surprise, pulling his hazy consciousness back to reality. The girl Mononobe had mentioned was probably Nanaka.
“The curse… You mean Haruko appearing in her dreams is affecting her in the waking world?”
“Asleep, awake, it’s all the same.”
“Like the butterfly dream?”