Ch.79Chapter 12. Lantern (3)

How would I explain the emotions I’ve felt since coming to this world?

I don’t think I’ve seriously considered it until now.

It’s not that I haven’t read these kinds of novels before. As I got older, carrying paper books became bothersome, and my living space shrank, making it difficult to store things, so I mainly read e-books.

In truth, I rarely did even that. I would work, come home, sleep like the dead, wash up, eat, go out, and work again in an endless cycle. Only on those rare occasions when I strangely found myself with free time would I read to pass the hours.

When did I stop reading novels? When did I stop watching movies or reading comics?

Well, probably after I started working—

—No, it was after I lost my entire family in a single day, when everything in the world just became tiresome.

What was my reason for living?

My family had relatives and friends.

Though my parents couldn’t meet their friends often because they were busy raising me and my sister, those connections weren’t completely severed.

The same goes for my younger sister, who was just about to enter university. She had quite a few friends from elementary through high school.

Many people came to the funeral. It was for three people, so naturally all their relatives and acquaintances attended.

I didn’t contact most of them afterward. I exchanged occasional messages with relatives during holidays, and sometimes concerned relatives would visit to see my face and share a meal. They were all kind people. But they had their own lives. Their lives weren’t easy enough to bear all my grievances.

Friends… yes, I had friends too. Some stayed by my side all night during the funeral while I lay face down, unable to say anything.

When life became too difficult and I missed my family, I would meet a few friends and drink myself into oblivion to erase the memories. That helped a bit. When I blacked out, there was no room for dreams to intrude.

Friends who knew my situation were thankfully understanding, but as we aged and grew distant, as they started families, even those occasions became rare.

So, I’m truly sorry, but my reason for living wasn’t because of those people.

Probably.

I…

Ironically, I lived because of the memories of my family.

When three out of four people suddenly left, I realized I was the only one who remembered them completely.

Many would remember them as relatives or friends. But those weren’t memories of them as family. They weren’t the raw, unfiltered memories we unintentionally showed each other.

They weren’t memories of them as family.

I was the only one who remembered my mother as my mother, my father as my father, and my sister as my sister.

If I died, those memories would disappear too.

That’s the attachment that kept me alive.

I didn’t want to erase my family from the world. So I clung on desperately, barely holding on with just a few fingers.

Yet I struggled not to dream. I didn’t want to remember my mother, father, and sister as corpses.

That’s right. That’s how it was.

Why had I forgotten?

“…”

“Kotone?”

I heard someone calling me.

Turning my gaze, I saw Koko looking at me with her head tilted.

She was wearing a yukata with blue stripes. Or maybe white stripes? I’m not sure which is the background color. The diagonal stripes created quite a dynamic impression that suited Koko well.

“Yes.”

When I answered, Koko blinked.

Perhaps she’d never seen this expression on my face before.

The dim light from the floating lanterns on the small pond illuminated Koko’s face.

An expression that seemed concerned about me.

…

Would it be overly sentimental to say I saw my younger sister’s face in that expression?

My sister used to make that same expression when I first got a job.

She was also the one who nagged me whenever I smoked. She said something about not being able to get workers’ compensation if I developed lung problems later.

I got annoyed with her many times when she complained about even the slightest smell of smoke on my clothes.

I did eventually quit though.

Even after being left alone, I never smoked again. Probably because of my sister. Though I never consciously thought about it.

“What is it?” Koko asked.

Was she asking why I had such an expression?

“I wonder…”

I answered absently and looked back at the pond.

Several lanterns were floating together on the small pond.

*

Fukuda had said, “No black!”

Not being particularly knowledgeable about Japanese culture, I initially wondered if black yukatas were forbidden during Obon.

Since it’s a period when spirits visit, it seemed plausible, but her next words completely contradicted that thought.

“Both of you have incredibly black hair. The texture is nice, but you’ll definitely look unlucky! Like widows who lost their husbands early.”

“Harumi!”

Yamashita made a snorting sound as if in disbelief at that explanation, and Miura exclaimed in shock.

But, well.

She had a point.

My hairstyle was already somewhat gloomy. Since I had no intention of changing it, that image was unlikely to improve.

The same goes for Koko.

First of all, Koko’s hair isn’t actually hair but elongated flesh. Cutting it would hurt her, and the flowing blood would traumatize any hairstylist, so we didn’t consider going to a salon.

Besides, since I had no intention of changing my hairstyle, Koko, who mimics my appearance, never changed hers either.

Anyway, the black yukata I initially chose went back on the hanger.

Instead, Fukuda chose two yukatas like the one Koko was wearing.

Specifically, they both had diagonal stripes but in symmetrical patterns.

“You’re twins, right?”

Fukuda’s logic was very simple, and strangely enough, not only Miura and Yamashita but even I agreed.

As a result, Koko and I ended up wearing yukatas with the same pattern but in symmetrical designs. When Koko stood to my right, the stripes formed a V-shape overall, and when she stood to my left, they formed a ㅅ-shape.

“Pretty! It suits you both!”

Fukuda, who had already chosen and put on a yellow yukata with some floral patterns, lined us up side by side and took several photos with her phone.

If only the two of us had been dressed in yukatas, it might have been a bit embarrassing, but everyone in our group was properly dressed. In other words, we were all fully prepared to enjoy the festival.

Afterward, I followed Miura, Yamashita, and Koko, listening to Fukuda’s somewhat peculiar stories as we walked, and that’s how we arrived at the shrine.

In Korea, Chuseok is similarly a three-day holiday, but the last day is usually spent returning home, so there isn’t a festive atmosphere. In fact, even when visiting hometown, it’s not really a festival or celebration. It’s more like a family gathering where elderly relatives come together and children play among themselves.

Well, festivals might be held somewhere in the country, but I’ve never participated in one.

However, even on the last day of Obon, the shrine was crowded with people. As Fukuda said, it wasn’t particularly spacious. Or rather, it was spacious, but how should I put it?

Yes, it didn’t have the atmosphere of a full-scale tourist destination like Gyeongju.

In the middle of the fairly large shrine grounds was something like a tower that people could climb, with space around it for people to walk.

Some people were already dancing.

I think I’ve seen this in manga too. I’m not sure what it’s called though.

Everyone else seems to know, but I felt awkward asking, so I didn’t. I’ll look it up later.

Around that area were food stalls. The absolute number wasn’t particularly large, but they were packed closely together, making them seem numerous. An optical illusion, you could say.

Koko lifted her chin and sniffed.

There were delicious smells. The smell of grilling squid and something like flour being baked. Occasionally, the sound of children shouting happily could be heard.

“Do you want to eat?”

“Yes!”

Before I could answer Miura’s question, Koko quickly responded.

“I’ll pay for Koko’s…”

“No, no.”

As I was about to take out my coin purse from my pocket, Miura quickly grabbed my hand.

“I really want to treat you.”

Miura’s eyes sparkled brightly. So bright that even through her glasses, the light wasn’t diminished at all.

“…Okay.”

I found myself nodding involuntarily at her enthusiasm.

Was Miura an only child?

Maybe that’s why. When you actually have a younger sister, there are more conflicts than you might expect, but that’s something outsiders wouldn’t know.

“Come on, Koko, this way.”

“Uu?”

As Miura led Koko toward the crowded area, Koko made a hesitant sound and looked back at me.

Koko’s attitude is somewhat contradictory at times. She seems to dislike crowded places, yet she doesn’t entirely hate lively atmospheres.

Both are probably due to her past experiences.

Being captured by humans and dismembered, ending up in a refrigerator.

Then living alone in isolation, avoiding people.

She must remember all of that.

“I’ll come with you.”

Although we were all going to move together anyway, it helps to say it out loud in situations like this.

Koko’s face brightened at my response.

I took Koko’s right hand, which Miura wasn’t holding.

It didn’t feel squishy at all, and it seemed to have proper bones inside.

I felt a strange sensation, like when I saw Koko sweating. But it was much better than the first time. I had decided to just accept it as it was anyway.

…With people already packed everywhere, there were even more people gathered near the food stalls, so it took almost 10 minutes just to get our food.

“Hafu hafu.”

Koko putting a takoyaki in her mouth and blowing on it was both funny and cute.

I wonder if she can feel heat despite having that kind of body? If so, then sweating wouldn’t be strange either.

Watching Koko, I also picked up a takoyaki and put it in my mouth—

“Hafu hafu.”

…and ended up doing the same thing.

The inside was much hotter than I expected. It felt like biting into a freshly steamed bun without letting it cool.

Though the taste was completely different.

Flour with octopus in the middle… I’m not sure if it was real octopus, but it was definitely some kind of cephalopod, and it didn’t taste bad at all.

“You two are exactly the same.”

Fukuda said with a very pleased expression as she looked at both of us.

Well, we look identical to begin with.

I wanted to point that out, but the takoyaki in my mouth hadn’t cooled enough, so I had to listen to Fukuda’s laughter for a while.

*

Still, I really enjoyed coming to the festival that I had wanted to visit at least once during my teens.

We didn’t just eat takoyaki.

After we finished all eight takoyaki pieces while going “hafu hafu,” the others seemed to find our eating amusing and kept putting various things in our hands.

I tried the apple candy I’d only seen in manga before, and cotton candy too.

Koko seemed to prefer sweet candies, but I liked the takoyaki best.

Maybe because I’m older.

Cotton candy is just sugar flavor after all. The apple candy felt like chewing on an apple and hardened sugar syrup together.

We didn’t try goldfish scooping. We already have a cat at home, so who knows what might happen.

Besides, goldfish grow larger than expected and need a wide activity range, so properly raising them requires more money and effort than you might think. Having already failed at this when I was young, I decided not to repeat the same mistake.

Above all, Koko’s eyes as she looked at the school of goldfish were a bit scary.

I had a feeling that if we went out and came back, the goldfish would end up in Koko’s stomach, so we just watched.

“Kotone-chan couldn’t be a dance singer.”

That was Fukuda’s impression after seeing my dance movements.

“…Couldn’t I cover it with singing ability?”

“No, usually it’s the other way around!”

Fukuda responded incredulously to Yamashita’s comment.

Shouldn’t they first ask if I even want to be a singer? I didn’t, anyway. And I don’t know if anyone would hire me either.

“Koko… had great energy!”

“Yes!”

Miura was enthusiastically praising Koko.

Though Koko looks the same age as me and might actually be older, she seems to have been recognized as a “child” by the three of them.

Well, my appearance isn’t so strange that I’d be mistaken for being one or two years younger than the others.

It’s not unreasonable for Koko to receive such affection.

By the way, saying she had “great energy” was probably just something to say when there wasn’t much else to praise. Koko’s movements were energetic and cute, but they were more like children’s movements and more random than mine.

…

I probably danced a little better.

Probably.

After enjoying various activities together, the sun set.

We hadn’t eaten dinner yet, but we weren’t hungry. We had already stuffed ourselves with various snacks earlier.

The same went for Koko.

Well, we’d probably need to eat a proper meal separately. Maybe I’ll buy something delicious for Koko while we’re out.

Judging by the looks in Miura, Fukuda, and Yamashita’s eyes, they seem to be thinking the same thing.

*

And so, back to now.

After sunset, lanterns were floating on the pond, and people were standing around them.

I’m not sure if these lanterns are substitutes for the smoke that sends spirits back, but one thing is certain: the previously bustling atmosphere had calmed considerably around the lanterns.

A solemn atmosphere.

“…”

Even Miura and Fukuda, who had been chattering all day, and Yamashita, who occasionally interjected with comments, were quietly watching the lanterns.

That’s probably why I thought of my family while looking at those lanterns.

Young children might find the concept of “dead people” unfamiliar. Indeed, some children were looking up at their parents with bored expressions while watching the lanterns.

But as one grows older, they gradually come to understand the concept of death.

When a flower they’ve grown withers. When a pet crosses the rainbow bridge.

When an elderly actor they often saw in dramas or movies no longer appears. When they hear news of a favorite manga artist or novelist passing away.

Even if it’s not someone close, there are more occasions to say goodbye to something forever than one might think.

And one accepts that fact, taking time to slowly forget. Sometimes when remembering, one might feel empty or sad, but after a few years, it becomes somewhat okay.

…I couldn’t do that.

Was it because the farewell was too sudden?

Or was it simply because I was immature?

I don’t know.

I just looked at the lanterns and wondered if, during this period when spirits truly visit, my family’s spirits could have visited too.

Yes, I know.

This isn’t the world I used to live in.

Rather than time rewinding 20 years, I’ve simply visited this kind of world.

I don’t know if this is a soul transfer or what it is.

But I can’t imagine that there would be… traces of my family in this world.

“…”

Still.

Still, if by chance. If by any chance.

If they ever visited because they were worried about me being alone.

I hope they’ve all returned well now. I hope they didn’t wander on a long path but went back to where they belonged.

If possible, I hope they didn’t see me getting hurt, but just happily watched me playing with friends before leaving.

I raised my gaze from the lanterns to the sky.

The flickering afterimage of the lanterns shining on the dark pond followed my line of sight upward.

It looked as if souls were returning to heaven, making my heart feel a little full.

“Kotone.”

I heard someone calling my name.

The hand holding mine tightened slightly.

If I turned my gaze, there would be a person with the exact same appearance as my current self.

I could never have imagined we’d have this kind of relationship when we first met.

“Are you okay?”

“…”

Koko asked.

I kept my mouth shut for a moment, then nodded.

“I’m okay.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Feeling gazes gathering around me, I turned to find Miura, Fukuda, and Yamashita all staring at me.

I raised my hand to wipe my eyes. There was a slight moisture on my sleeve.

It seems I had become too sentimental.

I thought my emotions had dried up considerably as I aged. I had seen many unpleasant things in my time.

Crying sounds, shouting voices. I often heard voices blaming me. At first, each one hurt me, but at some point, I learned to just move my body without feeling.

Because empathizing with each emotion was too painful. Because it reminded me of my family.

At some point, I ran far away from sad or distressing things, from such media. Naturally, there were hardly any occasions to cry or laugh heartily.

“…”

No one said anything.

I was grateful that no one asked what I was thinking.

If I had received any consolation, tears would have burst forth. At this age.

Someday, when I return up there, will I be able to meet my family again?

Will there be someone down here to burn incense for me?

Having experienced such a thing once, it’s a bit regretful to say but…

…I sincerely hope so.

Looking up at the sky again, I quietly thought.