The only other explanation I could think of was that it was somehow related to that stone in the little forgotten shrine, only because it legitimately felt like my mind and body were warped to a different place and time the moment I laid my fingers on it. Perhaps by simply touching the rock, I’d angered whatever god or spirit was enshrined therein and fallen under some sort of curse. It sounded pretty ridiculous, which may have been why I preferred it to the possibility of major brain damage. Regardless of what caused my memory loss, though, I needed to find out what happened in that four-day interim—and the best way to do that was to ask around. I jogged ahead a little bit to catch up with my sister and matched her pace.
“Hey, Eri, can I ask you something?”
“…What do you want?”
“So I know this is gonna sound like a weird question, but have I been spending a lot of time at home lately?”
“Huh?” she balked. “What kind of question is that? You’d know better than me.”
“No, no, I know. I, uh, wanted to know if you felt like I was spending enough time at home or not. If that makes sense.”
She looked at me suspiciously, clearly not buying this explanation at all. I myself was fully aware that it sounded like a pretty flimsy pretext, but I didn’t want to come right out and admit that there was a four-day gap in my memory and risk her potentially forcing me to go see a doctor. For now, all I could do was chain one lame excuse into the next. Eventually, Eri answered, though not before turning face forward again and breaking eye contact.
“You’ve actually been going out a lot the past few days. One or two nights, you didn’t even come home. Or at least, not until after I was already asleep…”
This was valuable information. The fact that she noted I was gone “one or two nights” told me that I had spent at least half of the nights in my own bed, so it wasn’t as if I was leading a totally different lifestyle. That still left a few unanswered questions, so I needed more information.
“Do you know where I’ve been going?” I pressed further. “Or if I was staying somewhere else on those one or two nights I didn’t come home?”
“…Is there something in the water over there in Tokyo? Some sort of brain-eating bacteria or something?”
“Huh? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m saying you’ve been acting weird ever since you got here,” Eri said, turning to look me straight in the eye once more. “Normal people don’t ask questions like that. No joke, I really think you should go to the hospital.”
“Oh, come on. Now you’re overexaggerating…”
“No, I’m not. Something is definitely wrong with you. It’s obvious, Kanae.”
I averted my eyes from her piercing stare, fumbling for some sort of excuse. This was exactly what I was hoping to avoid—but now that she was already suspicious, maybe I should come clean and tell her the whole truth: that I’d skipped ahead four days in time. The problem was that if I did that, there was a very real chance she’d drag me to the hospital, or tell someone that could, and I didn’t want to make my grandmother worry…as much as maybe I really did need to go get checked out.
“Quiet, you two,” my grandmother cut in. “We’re almost there. Be respectful.”
Phew. Saved by the bell, I thought to myself as we approached the community center where the wake was being held. It was a fairly large open building, about the size of a small gymnasium. A line of adults in mourning attire had formed in the building’s usually vacant courtyard. I could tell that Eri still had plenty more she wanted to say to me, but she obediently let it go the moment we got in line.
After signing the guestbook, we headed inside. Once we entered the spacious main hall, I spotted Akari wearing her Sodeshima High uniform out of the corner of my eye. I knew that she went to high school there, obviously, but this was the first time I’d actually seen her in her uniform. She looked much more ladylike and refined compared to when I saw her down on the seawall. I thought about going over and saying hi, but she was talking to a group of adults dressed all in black; it really didn’t seem like the right time. I sat down next to Eri and my grandmother in one of the many rows of metal folding chairs, then looked up at the altar. Seeing Akito’s face up there in the picture frame drove the harsh reality of his death home for me in a way I hadn’t yet fully come to grips with. This was my childhood hero, after all—he even came rushing to my rescue, once upon a time.
I was in the third grade, getting picked on by a group of delinquent junior high schoolers. I was scared and surrounded, when Akito happened to walk by. Despite being younger and smaller than the bullies, he jumped fearlessly to my defense, throwing punches left and right until the older kids ran off like scared rabbits. I could still remember the little exchange I had with him immediately after that:
“Next time, I don’t wanna see you standing there shaking in your boots like that,” he scolded me. “Pisses me off. You know you didn’t do anything wrong, and so do they, so don’t you dare let ’em get to you. Keep your head held high.”
“What if that makes them angrier, and they start hitting me…?” I replied.
“Then you just grab a big ol’ rock, chuck it right at their heads, and run like hell.”
At the time, I couldn’t believe the audacity of what he was suggesting, but as time went on, those words became something of a personal mantra for me. Whenever I felt uneasy or afraid, I’d tell myself that if it really came down to it, I could always throw rocks at their heads and run like hell. It was oddly reassuring to me. Obviously, I knew it wasn’t really commendable advice, nor had I ever actually resorted to that, but it still gave a scrawny little kid like me the confidence he needed in order to not be afraid of other people. I didn’t know how Akito felt about me or if he even remembered that little interaction…but I still felt his loss pretty deeply and wished he were still here with us.
After the incense lighting and sutra chanting was all said and done, Akito’s mother took a stand before the altar to say a few words to the congregation. Even from afar, I could see that her face was haggard and emaciated. Her hair had lost its luster; her eyes looked somewhat vacant. She looked as though she might collapse at any moment, but Akari stood by her side to offer support while she gave her remarks. The ceremony was officially over after she finished her speech, so we all stood up from our seats and began filing back out toward the entrance hall. Apparently, the immediate family had prepared small thank-you gifts for attendees, so the three of us got in line and slowly advanced toward the reception desk. We were waiting for our turn to come when I overheard the two people who got in line directly behind us having a fairly blunt exchange.