Days of Gold Gone By: Ep.Nine

Days of Gold Gone By: A Serial

Authors Note: Welcome to episode nine! Next episode is going to be Number 10, which is a milestone, so I decided I will also release a bonus episode to celebrate it. The bonus episode will not actively part of Akiras storyline but narrate another point of interest in any point of time. However I am only going to write it if I get reader input, as I want it to be influenced by the readers. So if there is any scene in particular you would like to see. For example: "'so and so's' point of view 'after/before/when' 'event' happened." Or anything else you'd like to suggest. Leave it as a comment here or Pm me, I don't mind.

Episode Nine: Gōsuto and Shinigami

Session #2

‘Welcome back June, you have recuperated from the last session?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then lets get started.’

-‘ahhh. ouch. arrrgh. uhh. ah! grrr. mmmfph!‘-

‘Hmm interesting, interesting indeed. --- You have very much improved positive results but the negative results have been also increased. Tell me, what do you think of the subject matter?’

‘I don’t care.’

‘For any of them?’

‘Well that one... third to last...’

‘Ah yes, I saw you smile, you liked that very much. That’s a good result.’

‘I hate this, it hurts.’

‘With time it will get better, I’m sure soon there will be entire sessions with no pain.’

~~~

This evening everyone is dressed formally. Kaho wears her white blossom kimono; her hair is straight and silky, unstyled and pinned modestly. My mother wears dress of similar style but plain black, though her hair is more lavishly tied; I have never seen her put it in any form other than a simple knot before. I decide that I too must dress for the occasion, I scour my wardrobe and hesitate at the yukata; it doesn’t seem right. I know there is a formal wear suit, (I discovered it when I had to clean the room from the mess I had made that one time), it is more western in style, the jacket double breasted but its collar stands high. It seems more fitting.

We clamber into the car in silence, this time I am the first in and I take the drivers seat. I have discovered that I somehow instinctively know how to drive the automobile, and that my family seems to greatly prefer it when I do. However I will have to ask the others where we have been, so I know where to go. I wait patiently for my family to join me. My mother eventually takes the passenger seat at my side; there is a tense air between us before she chokes some words in the back of her throat.

“Temple... the temple with the sakura garden...” We sit in silence for a further full minute and I am about to ask the question when Kaho rushes in, opening the door with such fury I expect it to fly off its hinges. She takes her place in the back; her face is wet. I think ahead, I must choose my words with caution.

“Oh to be you!?” Kaho yells at me so desperately it is almost a scream, “And to just forget. Forget everything, like you never knew him. Sometimes I wonder if you really do have a memory problem or you actually are just satisfying your sick sadistic personality! Your inability to feel anything! Both this and what you did to June after all this time? You can’t tell me that you have forgotten that and then and expect me to believe you! You disgust me Akira! You think your lies and games are amusing? Well they just hurt us all!”

I inhale sharply, Kaho’s sudden rage had cut the breath out of me, my heart racing. I don’t know what to say, but I have keep calm and satisfy the equation of time.

“Please, tell me where we have just been.” I start slowly, my voice shaking ever so slightly, “Mother...”

I bite my lip in frustration before adding the phrase “The location.” I should have said it in the initial wording, perhaps it would have not upset Kaho so much.

I drive slowly, hesitantly, occasionally having to ask ‘we just came from that road, correct?’ We finally arrive at the temple; it is a modest building in comparison to others, but its simplicity within itself is beautiful. The dark red and richen wooden panels make the barren trees stand out.The air is cold and light; the sky is cloudless and colourless. The place feels empty. We must be the first ones here, or the last to leave, our hushed voices echo in the hall which is void except for pillows and the shrine. Gradually the people start filtering back. Most of them are attempting to make happy sorts of small talk with one another, but others are silent and sombre. The people are gradually funnelled to one area, myself with them. I try to keep my eye on Kaho, she worries, I hope she is alright, especially before the outburst I know she has contained inside her. I find her clinging herself around a much older man, he is dressed in his dark uniform and colours and has a thin but neatly cropped beard. I approach her, wondering what sort of precautions we should take around this man. When I am close enough Kaho lets go and the man suddenly pulls me into a tight embrace. His face had seemed cool but as he holds me his voice is pained.

“Akira...” he whispers urgently again and again, “The loss of one son is harsh, please never get involved in the military again... I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you both. I wouldn’t... how would I go on?”

I pull back, my eyes widening as I take in a good look at him. He gazes back at me as I stand there like an idiot, jaw open.

“Father.” I state. It’s not a question even though it really is. After what he said I am certain he is. He puts his hand firmly but affectionately on my shoulder. I suddenly feel like I want answers.

“Where have you been?” Is my question, it’s almost demanding.

“I’m sorry Akira, you know how it’s been. The war... its hectic. The USA is demanding our surrender, we have our suspicions of attacks, defence forces-” I cut him off my putting my finger to my lips, I want him to know it is alright.

“I made a special trip out here. I know I haven’t been with the family in times as hard as this. I’m glad I can see the faces of what is left of my family.”

“Its good to see you too, Father.” I state confidently. Behind him something catches my eye. It is not a person, but rather a thing; a long rectangular casket covered in flowers. I hurry over and lay my palms down on the cool surface of wood. The container is rather flat. I detect my mother standing just behind me; I feel her presence.

“Are they in there?” I ask, my voice hushed.

“No...” she replies softly, “Because he died at war, this is only a symbol of the body.”

The few people attending have silenced; their faces are friendly, many of them familiar to me. I feel a tang in my stomach. I have read a book where there was a funeral ceremony, and as the eldest son I know I have a duty.

I move up to take the raised step of the shrine and bow low to the people who set their gaze on me.

“Thank you for coming to wish him goodbye” My words are awkward and forced; I am not even sure if I have said the correct thing. Hopefully they will forgive me.

My father steps up and begins to speak of heroism. His words and proud and dignified. The people nod along to agree, but no-one is more enthralled than I. Listening so intently; the person he speaks of is wonderful.

As I watch the guests take turns at the incense I let my gaze fall on the faces of the people around me. My fathers head in high, his eyes turned forward, his emotions can not be spotted. My mother is the opposite, she has her face turned up, but her eyes opening and closing slowly, like the is divided and ashamed by the flaws of emotion that wrinkle her face. Kaho is couped on a pillow, her face in her hands so no-one can see her face, much like my father. I take a second glance to him, the more I watch him the more he so much reminds me of Kaho herself. In front of the shrine is printed a large grey photograph of the face of a young man, his hair cropped neatly, his jaw set firmly and his eyes defiant. I reach up and touch my own face, feeling along my cheek bones. He reminds me of myself, a bit more well built, and healthier. A young woman stands alone, also looking at the photograph, I take a place beside her and watch the picture before turning to her. Hikari’s eyes are set toward the picture of the young man, but her gaze is absent, it seems more like she is looking into nothing that anything. Her fingers twitch and her jaw quivers. I don’t say anything but instead gently coup my hand beneath her chin and turn her face toward me, my thumb resting on her cheek. Her eyes are wet and bright, her lips tense and pursed, like she is holding in all the secrets of the world. When I shift my thumb gently upwards a droplet of salt takes flight up her cheek. It eats the trail before it before finally joining the sorrow in her eyes.

“Akira...” she says, her voice broken and scratched. I feel her sadness overwhelming my own body; her tears evoking a sudden impossible sense of longing.

“Hikari.” I reply as softly as I can; anything to console her.

Death. Death evokes such emotions. The loss of someone close. The idea that you will never see them again. The idea that their voice will never again be heard to your ears. I suddenly take Hikari into my arms and hug her firmly; she grips the fabric on my arms tightly, disguising her face in the fabric of my shirt. I feel my stomach pit. The sensation of the thought chokes me. I feel like this is the end even though it is not. It is not for the young man that I grieve but for Hikari.

Hikari is dead.

Hikari died on the 19th of June. She drowned in fire and ash. She is no more. We both died on that day, her and I alike- there is nothing I can do. I feel like I am a ghost, reliving someone else life. The Akira that people talk about to me, isn’t me. He is some other Akira, one living a parallel life, a parallel dimension; the one that the people remember. My actions make me different from him. Most of the things I do fulfil the past, my future, but those actions are what I will myself to happen, however I can still change it and is what defined by it- the instance with the glasses proved that as did various other events I had experienced. But am I really living or am I only seeing what I want? What I wish for? Am I just ghosting a life in the memories of most recent events all in the moment of one singular instance; the death of Akira. I pull away from Hikari and look at her once more. I hastily reach up to dry my own eye- having water fall up my face backward would not reap good results. My body seems to exist in a realm of its own. I don’t know who I am. I’m not the Akira they know, but at the same time I am.

What am I?

~

It nears the beginning of the departure of the mourners. I have found myself feeling unusually dreary. My heart is heavy with the burden of questioning my own existence as well as the idea that people close to myself such as Hikari had their lives cut short at an early age. I decide to let myself unwind outside; the air is cold but my body is burning. I am surprised to see June sitting on the bank of grass where I was planning to take my escape at. He is looking out over the garden just as distant as Hikari over the photograph.

“What am I?” I state with a raised voice as I place myself down violently beside him. “What the hell am I!?”

I have developed a very selfish motive. I want to tell June everything that plagues me without him understanding any of it. I stop myself before I get to furious. I don’t want June to believe my anger is directed at him. I think back to Kaho and what she had yelled in the car.

‘what you did to June after all this time? You can’t tell me that you have forgotten that...’

I didn’t want to worsen whatever Kaho had been referring to. I prod at June’s hand which is resting on his knee. His fingers are long and thin, the skin that stretches over his bones is pale.

“Am I a ghost?” I ask calmly as I continue to prod at his skin. “If I’m not then why am I different?”

June continues to look out, his head nodding slightly. “You’re going to ask me something stupid.” He says, “I just know it.”

“Yeah of course you know it because I just told you I’m asking you something” I reply. I wonder where the future June of my past goes? Does he bend into his own alternate dimension following what I have just said? Do out two worlds only ever meet at a singular instance of time, forever drifting apart afterwards?

June flinches just before I pinch the fleshy part of his palm beneath his thumb. He feels real enough. My pinching is cut short when June flicks his wrist and grabs my entire hand, squeezing it between his fingers. My first thought is that he is going to crush my fingers in revenge for the poking, but his grasp his firm at the most. I glance at his face. His eyes are dancing. I pull away; maybe he got the wrong impression, I jest to myself as I shake my hand out.

“Because of...” he says, grabbing my eye contact.

“What?” I ask. The way June suddenly lowered his voice made me suddenly feel like I should lower mine also.

“Misaki hated me. He despised my very essence. I didn’t have a reason to hate him back, which is why I still wish to respect him...”

Misaki. The name that had been tosses around so often this day. The same name I had heard in the past. The name of the dead.

“I feel like I shouldn’t be here. I know I am a family friend but just letting my presence feels disrespectful.”

“But-” I start, nodding at him but not agreeing with him. June was hated by Misaki? The way June spoke of it made it feel quite terrible. I had not come across hatred in my lifetime yet.

“I think I’ll go.” June concludes, “I’ll just walk away before too many people have arrived and before anyone notices.” I don’t reply. I just look at the grass until June finally wanders from my side.