The Perfect World of Miwako Sumida

by Clarissa Goenawan

  “Fumi-nee!”

  Hearing Eiji’s familiar voice, Fumi looked up and saw him running toward her.

  “Do you always storm out like that?” he asked.

  She stared at him, eyes wide.

  He stopped in front of her, trying to catch his breath. “What’s that in the plastic bag?”

  “Milk pudding,” she said, looking elsewhere. She didn’t want him to realize how surprised she was. “I bought two. You can have one.”

  He laughed. “I can’t believe this is the first thing you’re saying to me after what happened.”

  “Me neither,” she said, smiling. “I should’ve chased you out.”

  “Yes, you should’ve.” He paused. “What made you change your mind?”

  She looked into his eyes, seeking an answer but finding none. What she did find was a tiny scar on the bridge of his nose she hadn’t noticed before. How had Eiji gotten that? Had he fallen down? There was so much about him she didn’t know.

  A gust of wind blew, sending dry leaves onto the ground. In a park not far from where they stood, children were shouting, but their words jumbled together, and she couldn’t catch what they were saying. A car passed by, a gleaming black Honda sedan.

  “Miss, can you throw the ball back?” a kid with a baseball glove shouted from the edge of the park.

  The ball had landed on the pavement right in front of Eiji. She waited for him to pick it up, but he just stood there. Puzzled, she reached for the ball and gave it her best throw back to the field. It went farther than she had expected.

  “Not bad, Fumi-nee,” Eiji said.

  “You would’ve done better,” she said. “I’ve never been good at sports.”

  “Maybe.” He paused for a few seconds before he said, “But the kid asked you, not me.” Eiji smiled. “Let’s go home.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Why the rush? The weather’s so nice.”

  He leaned forward. “You do know that you’re wearing house slippers, don’t you?”

  Fumi looked down at her feet. She turned red. In her moment of fury and embarrassment, she’d left the house without putting on a proper pair of shoes.

  “I’m surprised no one has called the police yet,” Eiji said, suppressing a laugh. “Are you always this disoriented, Fumi-nee?”

  “Stop that,” she said, glaring. She tried to laugh it off, but all that came out was a pathetic snicker. Was it Ryu’s absence that was messing her up like this?

  “How old are you?” Fumi asked Eiji.

  “Twenty-one.”

  “Ah, the same age as my brother,” she said, walking in the direction of her apartment.

  “Still no news from him?”

  She shook her head and kicked at the gravel in front of her.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Eiji said. “I’m sure your brother is fine wherever he is.”

  “I know,” she mumbled and turned to him. “He needs to meet someone new. Did you know that new love is the best cure for a broken heart?”

  He was quiet for a moment before responding. “Is that so?”

  “Uh-huh.” For a second, Fumi thought Eiji had sounded a little odd, but maybe that was just her imagination. Trying to liven up the mood, she asked, “Have you ever been to Yokohama? Let’s go there one of these weekends. A change of scenery is always refreshing.”

  “Why Yokohama?”

  “It’s not too far. We can drive there. And I have a license, so we could rent a car for a day trip.”

  “That sounds nice, but I prefer to stay at home.”

  “Don’t you get bored?”

  He laughed, but it was obvious he was forcing it. They turned onto an alleyway. Three boys smoking in their high school uniforms took up the entire span of the pathway. All of them sported flashy hairdos and untucked shirts.

  Fumi wanted to change direction to avoid trouble, but she was too late. The boys were already watching them closely. She tried to avoid eye contact and walk normally. But as she passed by, one of them whistled at her.

  “Doing some shopping, miss?”

  Fumi continued to walk.

  “Hey, it’s rude to ignore people,” one of them chipped in. “You’re pretty. How about we accompany you?”

  “Stop it. I’m with my boyfriend,” Fumi said, maintaining her usual calmness.

  “Where’s your boyfriend? I don’t see him anywhere.”

  Fumi turned to Eiji, but to her surprise, he had shoved his hands into his pockets and walked away. She swore silently and gritted her teeth. The three delinquents looked in his direction with puzzled expressions. One of them laughed and grabbed Fumi’s hand.

  “Let go of me,” she hissed. One against three. Fumi felt she had no chance, but she wasn’t going to let them have their way.

  “Be gentle, you’re scaring her,” one of the boys said in a mocking tone. “Hey, miss, what’s that in the plastic bag?”

  Pulling her hand back, Fumi used all her strength to slam the plastic bag at the boy nearest to her. She hit him square in the face, and he groaned in pain. Fumi used the opportunity to get past him. She ran without stopping. Loud curses and footsteps followed. Where was Eiji? Why had he abandoned her?

  Seeing a park, she ran into it without much thought. There must be a policeman patrolling the area. Or maybe not. Why was it always so quiet whenever someone needed help? And whenever they wanted to be left alone, there was a crowd.

  Fumi saw a public bathroom and entered the handicapped stall. Locking the door, she breathed heavily. Her pursuers’ footsteps got closer. Why were these young men so persistent?

  “Where’d she go?” one of them shouted.

  “Should be inside one of the stalls,” the other one said. “Why don’t you go in and check?”

  “What if someone else is inside?”

  “It would just be a woman. What are you so scared of?”

  Fumi heard a grunt, then the sound of door opening and closing, one after another. She crouched down in the corner, trying to make herself as small as possible.

  “There’s no one here.”

  “Don’t tell me she’s hiding in the men’s room.”

  “Why don’t you check?”

  “We shouldn’t go there. This is Higashi High’s turf. They smoke joints in this park.”

  “Did anyone actually see her go into the bathroom?”

  A brief silence ensued.

  “Let’s give it up.”

  “But she wrecked my face!”

  “Your face was wrecked before she hit you.”

  There was laughter, followed by more curses and fading footsteps. Fumi breathed a sigh of relief, but she didn’t dare to go outside yet. They could still be in the park.

  But why had Eiji run off? Had he been scared of those kids? Or was it because he thought so little of her? And those kids had been too much, treating Eiji like he was invisible.

  And then Fumi realized something she should have noticed much, much earlier.

  Why hadn’t she thought of it? Those children in the field, they hadn’t seen him either, had they? Otherwise they would’ve asked him to throw the ball, not her. And of course, Eiji had a reason he couldn’t go to Yokohama with her, couldn’t find a job, never ate, and insisted on hanging around in the house. All the pieces clicked into place.

  Closing her eyes, Fumi thought of someone she had tried so hard to forget.

  Ruri.

  22

  Images

  of

  Fans

  and

  Flowers

  Ruri had been in the backyard when Fumio had come to do his usual sweeping duty. The sky was dull, as if it was going to rain soon. It was a cold, gray morning. Yet Ruri was still lightly dressed in a floral one-piece and her usual pair of worn-out shoes.

  “Good morning,”
she greeted him. “You’re late.”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” he said.

  “Something bothering you?”

  Fumio shook his head. He couldn’t tell Ruri. He didn’t want her to know what awaited him once school started. He was afraid her opinion of him would change. “Everything is fine. I’m just nervous about going back to school.”

  “Ah, that’s right, the new semester is starting. Are you going to forget me once you see your school friends?”

  “Of course not.” It wasn’t a lie, since he had none.

  She offered her pinky finger. “Promise?”

  Fumio nodded and was about to link his pinky with Ruri’s when he heard his mother’s voice.

  “Fumio, where are you?” she called.

  “Out back!” Fumio shouted and turned to Ruri. “Wait here.”

  Putting down the broom, he ran inside. His mother was walking toward him, a gift box in her hands.

  “How many times have I told you to walk slowly and quietly in the hallway?” she said, frowning. “This is a shrine. You’re disturbing the visitors.”

  “There are no visitors this early in the morning,” he protested.

  She glared at him. “As the son of the priest, you need to behave well all the time. One day, you’ll inherit this shrine from your father.”

  Fumio rubbed the nape of his neck.

  If his mother noticed his reluctance, she pretended not to. “Come here. Your father bought you some sweets from Fujiwara yesterday.”

  “Really?” Fumio took a closer look at the gift box. Decorated with Japanese paper, it bore images of fans and flowers. His eyes widened. “This is for me?”

  His mother nodded. Fumio took the box from her, but when he opened it, only a quarter of the sweets were left. He sighed in disappointment.

  “Don’t be greedy,” his mother said. “We have to share with everyone else here.”

  “I know. I’ll share it with my friend too.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Which friend is this?”

  Fumio hadn’t told anyone about Ruri, but he was finally ready to tell his mother. “She’s a girl who comes to the backyard to play with me every day. She lives nearby.”

  “How nice! Is she a friend from school?”

  The mention of school triggered nausea. “Ruri doesn’t go to school.”

  “How strange,” his mother said. “Why don’t you introduce her to me?”

  Her face beamed as she said it. Fumio’s mother was clearly happy her son had made a friend. Although Fumio tried his best to hide the rooftop bullying, his mother probably knew something was wrong. After all, he had asked to skip school several times without explanation.

  To be honest, Fumio was relieved too, to have someone to call a friend. He finally felt like he was normal. He could make friends just like everyone else. It took him longer, but that was all.

  Fumio led his mother to the backyard and waved to Ruri. “Look, she’s over there.”

  “Where?” Fumio’s mother narrowed her eyes. “I don’t see her.”

  “There, near the bushes.” Fumio pointed. “Hey, Ruri!” he called. “My mother brought us some sweets.”

  Ruri turned to them. Her eyes widened and she froze.

  “What’s wrong, Ruri?”

  Fumio walked over to her, but she edged away. He frowned. Why was she avoiding him? Before he could ask, she turned and ran into the bushes.

  “Ruri,” Fumio shouted. “It’s all right. She’s my mother!”

  He wanted to run after her, but his mother caught his arm. Her face was pale.

  “Fumio, we need to talk,” she said.

  That night, Fumio Yanagi learned about the curse that ran through his blood. It was probably the hardest moment of his life. It wasn’t so much about his unwanted ability as the fact that the only friend he’d ever had wasn’t real.

  Ruri probably knew what was happening too, because the next day, she was back to standing in the bushes, staring at him without saying anything. Fumio continued to clean the shrine grounds as usual, as his father had advised.

  “Nothing should change,” he had said. “Do everything like you normally do.”

  But it was far from normal. The silence was intimidating. Fumio’s steps were heavy. He skipped mopping and went inside the shrine, only coming out when it was time for him to do his afternoon sweeping.

  Ruri wasn’t looking at the sky anymore. Her head hung down. Her lips were shut. The glow Fumio had always seen in her was gone, replaced by a white and ghastly paleness. She had the color of death running in her veins.

  A few days before the new semester started, Fumio saw Ruri crying.

  “Why are you ignoring me?” she said. “Aren’t we friends?”

  Fumio’s throat went dry. It was hard to breathe. Against his father’s advice, he told her, “We can’t be friends, because you’re not real.”

  Ruri gritted her teeth and glared at Fumio before running away.

  Fumio continued to sweep. When he was done, he returned to his room. He didn’t want any dinner, but he couldn’t sleep, either.

  “Don’t worry, they can’t hurt you,” his father had said. “They can’t even touch you.”

  Fumio had no idea why he was crying. Ruri wasn’t a real person, anyway. She was a wandering spirit who had found her way to the shrine. No one was able to see her except Fumio. He’d trusted that she was a friend and gotten hurt.

  But now that he knew, he just had to accept that she wasn’t part of the living world, and then, the pain would disappear, wouldn’t it? For better or worse, Ruri stopped showing up. Fumio’s father thought she had probably been reincarnated.

  “It happens to everyone eventually, but it’s usually faster for children,” he explained after one of his meditation trainings. “Most of the time, they have fewer sins to atone for and less to tie them to this world than adults.”

  Fumio was silent, his eyes fixed on the altar. A pair of huge lanterns gave the tatami room a warm, golden glow. The smell of incense lingered in the air. It was already noon, but in that darkened room, the time wasn’t immediately clear.

  “A lot of the spirits believe staying in places of worship will help them reincarnate faster,” his father continued, “but we can’t be sure. Still, it’s worth trying if you have nothing to lose.”

  “Do you think that was the reason Ruri came here?” Fumio asked eventually.

  “Possibly,” his father said. “I doubt she died in the vicinity of this shrine. Otherwise we would’ve heard about it.”

  Fumio’s throat felt dry. “How do you think she died?”

  “There are a lot of possibilities. You said she was young, so most likely illness. She spoke to you about not needing to go to school, didn’t she? There are also other possibilities, like traffic accidents. As a general rule, if they don’t tell us on their own, we don’t ask. It’s best not to know too much or get involved. They live in a different world than we do.”

  Nodding, Fumio thought of the days he and Ruri would talk in the back courtyard of the shrine. She could have told him the truth on any of those occasions. There were so many opportunities, but she’d chosen to hide it.

  “Fumio?”

  He raised his head and saw his father’s creased brow.

  “Are you all right, son?”

  Fumio nodded again.

  “I need to explain what’s been happening.”

  He kept his head hung low.

  “This ability has been passed down through our family for generations to the firstborn men, along with the responsibility of serving in this shrine. It was first bestowed upon our ancestor as a gift for his devotion and self-sacrifice.”

  Fumio’s father proceeded to tell him a tale from centuries ago, when there had been a plague in the region that had wiped out more than half of the
residents. Those left alive were wallowing in sorrow and regret, and restless souls roamed the area, plaguing its population with negative energy. The head priest was deeply saddened and sealed himself inside the shrine, praying and fasting for days. On the hundredth night, the gods gave him the ability to communicate with the dead so he could help them cross over to the other side.

  “Normally, the ability manifests when we become adults. I didn’t know this would happen to you so early.” Fumio’s father took a deep sigh. “If I had, I would’ve talked to you about it. I thought I had plenty of time, so I haven’t yet taught you the history of this shrine or our family. I’m sorry this has caused you pain.”

  “I’m fine,” Fumio insisted. “Like you said, she’s not a real person. How can something that doesn’t exist hurt me?”

  After that day, they never spoke of Ruri again.

  Fumio’s parents solidified their preparations to make him successor to the shrine. The early manifestation of his ability only confirmed to them that he was the most suitable candidate.

  “You need to learn the proper way to use this gift,” his father told him. “In the past, there have been cases in which the selected ones have neglected to follow the rules of the spirit world and been driven to insanity as a result.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “No one can know about your ability. Not even Ryu. This is a secret that we, the priests of this shrine, guard closely and share only with our successors and life partners.”

  Fumio spent his nights and weekends meditating, saying prayers, and reading scriptures. Even though these things made him feel increasingly empty, he did as he was told. He didn’t want to worry his parents.

  As for what was happening at school, one day Fumio finally decided he’d had enough. The group of girls called him up to the rooftop yet again. But when they started beating him, he stood tall and grabbed one of their wooden sticks.

  Fumi could still remember their frantic shrieks. The girls had dropped their weapons and run, but Fumio came after them, swinging the stick wildly. Their high-pitched screams pierced his ears as they scampered in different directions. He chased the skinny girl who led the pack. She tripped and fell as her friends escaped. He pinned her to the ground with the stick. For the first time, she looked at him with fear in her eyes. The expression of disgust he was so used to seeing was gone.