He was dreaming. Actually, it might have been a memory.
“…Uhn. Huh? Shiroshi?”
“Oh, you’re awake? You were sleeping quite soundly.”
When he opened his eyes, Shiroshi was sitting across from him in his usual Queen Anne chair, reading a book that lay open on the table.
They were in the study, as always; an autumn breeze was blowing through the window Seiji had opened for ventilation. He’d been planning to smoke, but it seemed he’d drifted off instead. He blinked a few times, then sat up.
“Huh? Where did my cigarettes—? Gah!”
For some reason, the pack had been on top of his head, and it slipped off and hit the table with a light thump. He’d been pranked. Now, who could have done that? When he looked at Shiroshi, the kid was innocently turning a page in his book, but his shoulders were quivering. He seemed to be trying not to laugh.
Registering Seiji’s cold look, Shiroshi cleared his throat and closed his book. “Perhaps you’ve had an encounter with a makuragaeshi.”
That was a total bald-faced lie… But what was a makuragaeshi?
“It’s a yokai who appears while people sleep and moves their pillows. Have you ever gone to bed with your pillow under your head, only to find it down by your feet when you awakened? That was the work of a makuragaeshi.”
“Huh. I figured it was just me being a restless sleeper.”
“Heh-heh. And you were right. However, ‘makura-gaeshi,’ the act of turning a pillow, has an unexpected significance.”
…Hm. If nothing else, Seiji understood that the kid was trying to weasel out of trouble by changing the subject.
“The term originally referred to turning the pillow of the dead to face north, as has been done at funerals since antiquity. By treating the pillow as a magical implement and turning it, you switch the natural order of things from life to death.”
“Come on, a magical implement? That seems kind of overdramatic.” I mean, it’s just a pillow…
“Long ago, people considered the pillow to be a device that linked dreams and reality. In other words, by turning it, you cut off the path by which the soul could return to its body. It was equivalent to taking a life, a malicious act.”
“Th-that’s surprisingly dark.” The idea sent a shiver down Seiji’s spine.
“Heh-heh-heh. In some versions of the legend, the makuragaeshi’s true form is the ghost of a traveler who was killed at an inn,” Shiroshi said, sounding a little entertained. Yes, those were the eyes of a pet owner watching his dog get spooked by lightning.
“So we might run into a sinner who looks like that someday?”
“It’s entirely possible. However, it would be better if there were no sinners at all.”
Shiroshi had murmured the remark casually, but Seiji felt as if he’d caught a glimpse of what he really thought.
The light streaming in through the window had long ago lost the brightness of summer. It was a perfectly ordinary September afternoon, the sort you might forget right away if you blinked.
“Um, how did this ‘sending people to Hell’ business get started in the first place?” The words were out before Seiji even thought about what he was saying. “I mean, I think you said it was originally the Enma Ministry’s job.”
“Yes, that’s right. I’m merely a proxy; as a rule, the duty would belong to others, such as the kasha.”
“But if these people are going to Hell when they die anyway, why do they need to be sent there while they’re still alive? It just sounds like extra work.”
“Hmm.” Shiroshi crossed his arms, thinking. Then he exhaled, unfolding them again. “I believe it’s because that is what humans wanted.”
“Huh? But…I mean, humans are the ones getting punished, so why would they…?”
“Because they are human. In the first place, it is humans who want to punish others beyond the range of penalties humans can inflict. What creates Hell in the next world is resentment—the feeling that even death isn’t enough.”
I see. He has a point.
If you’d lost someone precious, the knowledge that the person who took them from you was going to Hell might be a comfort. Even more so if you knew Hell could come for them while they were still alive.
“At the same time, it’s also resentment directed at gods, demons, and other beings who transcend human understanding. If they aren’t able to stop people from doing evil, at the very least, humans want them to mete out punishment. That is how the kasha came to be. If it is humans who do evil, it is also humans who wish for punishment. In a manner of speaking, one could say that the duty to punish humans is a punishment imposed on gods and demons.”
Oh, I see, Seiji thought.
It wasn’t that demons wanted to punish humans. They were expected to punish them.
In that case, was sending sinners to Hell just a punishment even for Shiroshi, who was only a proxy?
“No, because I am also human, and I wish for punishment as others do. Since I am both human and demon, I feel I should view the issue from both perspectives.”
Hm? Seiji blinked; he hadn’t been expecting that. He seemed to remember hearing Shiroshi say that he was “human yet not, yokai yet not.”
“Yes, that is what I used to say.” Registering Seiji’s gaze, Shiroshi cleared his throat. “At present, I make it a point to consider myself both, as you put it then. I am both supernatural and human.”
“…Really?”
“Heh-heh-heh. Yes, really.” Shiroshi smiled like a white peony blooming. That face hadn’t changed a bit since they’d first met. It might never change.
But…
Even so, would his heart keep changing? If they changed each other during their lives in this world, little by little, it might be…
…like flowers blooming in the darkness of Hell.
Then Seiji woke up.
When he came to his senses and got his eyes to focus, he found himself looking at the light of a vermilion lamp. He was in the library.
“…Ngh…ow.”
As soon as he stirred, his muscles screamed.
He was sitting below the window with his legs kicked out in front of him. Naturally, his right wrist was still handcuffed. His arm had been kept unnaturally raised the whole time, and he couldn’t feel anything past his elbow.
How long have I been out?
When he checked his smartphone, it was already three in the morning. Was Shiroshi all right?
He strained his ears but couldn’t hear a thing. A hush filled the train—or was this dead silence? What if they weren’t just being quiet? What if they couldn’t talk?
“Shiroshi, are you okay?!”
Just as he was about to start yelling his head off…
“If you’re awake, please look out the window.”
…he heard Shiroshi’s voice.
…The window?
Following instructions, he turned. In that moment, light lanced through the car.
An enormous mass of wind rushed by with a roar, making the train vibrate.
Two eyes that seemed to belong to a giant monster raced past on the other side of the window, glowing brightly.
They were the headlights of a train running alongside theirs on the opposite track.
And then…
…he saw it.
“Smoking is prohibited on the train.”
An abrupt voice behind him nearly made Seiji jump out of his skin.
In the process, he dropped his lit cigarette.
When he hastily picked it up, Takamura held out a portable ashtray in what seemed like the same way Beniko conveniently produced dried squid.
“I received an alert that the library window had been opened.” He was looking at the window Seiji had just cranked down. Takamura had been on standby in Car 7, and Seiji hadn’t expected him to get here anywhere near this quickly.
“S-sorry. We’re in deep trouble and still sinking, and I needed a smoke break pretty bad.”
“You have my sympathy.”
I don’t want to hear that from you. Seiji managed to keep his retort to himself, although it was pretty close. “Um, Takamura, why are you—?”
But before he could finish the question, Takamura bowed. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, and left the car. He was making for the front of the train, and Seiji’s heart skipped a beat, but fortunately, his footsteps didn’t stop. Was he going to the engine room?
His relief was short-lived. An unexpected figure entered the library from the door leading to Car 3.
“…Ms. Nomura?”
Both her expression and the way she walked were almost ghostlike. She looked as if she was brooding obsessively over something…or perhaps she’d already gone far past that point.
I’ve seen this before…
Then it hit him: She was wearing the same expression Inokoshi had the last time he came to Seiji’s apartment.
As the woman passed him, he called to her. “Um, where are you going?”
She stopped but kept looking at the floor; she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “…I thought I’d go to Car Seven.”
“Oh, are you looking for Takamura? He just went through here, so I don’t think you’ll find him back there.” It can’t be. Is she planning to confess her sin?
Ms. Nomura bit her lip, as if she were thinking hard—and then she sighed. “I guess you’ll do, then.”
“Huh?”
The toes of her shoes turned his way.
Instantly, a horrified shudder swept through Seiji. He’d seen a familiar object in her hand—Kaganuma’s folding knife.