Into the Mystic, Volume One

by Tay LaRoi

  “It isn’t exactly useful information.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  Their arrival at Sendai station cut the conversation short, so Ingrid let it drop. Besides, maybe Ayame was right. Ingrid decided she’d work the lost-college-years angle before investigating anymore.

  Much to Ingrid’s surprise, Ayame helped her pick out some cute jewelry for Beth at the nearby shopping center. She also suggested a Rirakuma pencil case, because in her opinion, fourteen years old was still plenty young enough to like the adorable teddy bear character.

  “You’ve got a good eye for this stuff,” Ingrid commented as they headed for another store. Her father wanted something with a samurai on it, and Ingrid knew a small shop with the perfect silk wall hanging.

  “I window-shop every once in a while,” Ayame said, “but crowds make me nervous, and it’s no fun to shop alone.”

  “So, I was right,” Ingrid said with a gloating grin. “You were lonely.”

  Ayame shoved her hands into her pockets and grumbled, “Don’t rub it in.”

  With her father’s present bought, they wandered in search of a gift shop Ingrid had passed multiple times but had never taken the time to look at. Its shelves were filled with traditional Japanese figurines and dolls, most notably the kokeshi, which was a local specialty. Ingrid loved their shape, a cylinder body decorated with red-and-green stripes and a red flow in the center, and their simple, yet pleased expressions. Ingrid knew her mother would love one. She just had to pick out the perfect one.

  Once she found it and scooped it up, she turned to find Ayame holding a pair of bookends. They were a pair of ninjas peaking around the books they would one day hold.

  “What about these for your brother?” she suggested. “American boys think ninjas are cool, right? I heard that somewhere.”

  Ingrid chuckled and checked the price. “That’s probably true for some guys. Matt’s never expressed an interest, but he does read a lot. He’d probably like these. Good find.”

  Ayame beamed for a moment and then browsed the shelves while Ingrid paid. Ingrid found her near the door, studying a pair of wooden figures dressed like a couple on their wedding day. The man wore a traditional black kimono while the woman wore white.

  “Is that what you need to cross over?” Ingrid asked. “Because there’s a popular wedding spot right up the coast from here. Maybe we could stage one somehow.”

  Ayame scoffed and walked out into the road. “They’re just pretty. Even if I wanted to get married, it’s not legal here. Not most places, anyway. A few cities have started giving partnership certificates, I heard. I guess that’s something, but Sendai isn’t one of them.”

  “Was there ever someone you wanted to marry, though? Even if you couldn’t?”

  Ayame went quiet for a moment as they strolled back toward the station. They crossed two streets before she answered. “No. I wasn’t in love whatsoever when I died. It concerned my parents so much that they wanted to hire a matchmaker.”

  “People used matchmakers in the seventies?” Ingrid asked, half in awe, half skeptical.

  “People still use them sometimes. There’s an ad for one on the train. I’ll point it out to you next time.”

  They fell into silence again as they walked. Ingrid studied Ayame for some sign that she was ready to cross over. She certainly seemed to be in a good mood, but not in the sort of way that made Ingrid think she was ready to leave the land of the living. Maybe they needed to hang out more and become actual friends. In hindsight, Ingrid realized it was a little silly to think one night of hanging out was going to fix forty years of loneliness. Her thoughts kept her so preoccupied as they boarded the train for home that she didn’t notice Ayame watching a high school student sitting a small distance away.

  The girl sat clutching her school bag with her gaze fixed on the floor. Several girls in identical uniforms snickered at the other end of the bench. The few times the student dared to look at the others, she caught glimpses of them puffing out their cheeks and spreading their arms as if to imitate someone much heavier.

  Someone like the poor girl they were mocking.

  Ayame glared daggers at the girls, but they didn’t notice. Instead, she got up and sat with the lone student, startling not only the girl, but Ingrid and several other passengers. No one talked to strangers on the train. It simply wasn’t how you got from point A to point B.

  Ingrid watched as the girl began to smile as she spoke to Ayame. After a while, they chatted and giggled like old friends, flooring Ingrid. It had taken her weeks at school to do what her personal ghost had done in minutes.

  Several stops later, the group of girls got off the train. Ayame glared as they went. This time, they made eye contact with the strange masked woman and nearly pushed each other off the train to get out from under her gaze.

  The student Ayame had befriended didn’t seem to notice. She got off at the next stop, waved to Ayame, and went on her way. Once the doors closed, Ayame rejoined Ingrid in their original spot.

  “What was that about?” Ingrid asked.

  “Her name is Hana,” Ayame explained. “She just moved here from Aomori Prefecture and is having trouble making friends. Those brats teasing her isn’t exactly helping.”

  “Okay, but why did she talk to you?”

  Ayame shrugged. “It’s a ghost thing. I don’t know how it works, but I can influence how people feel. Why do you think you were so scared of me when we first met?”

  “That makes sense,” Ingrid said. “On your own, you’re not very scary.”

  Ayame elbowed her. Just from her eyes, Ingrid could tell she was pouting.

  “You said it, not me,” Ingrid laughed. After a moment, she asked, “Why did you help her?”

  Ayame studied her own reflection in the opposite window. “You were right, Ingrid,” she muttered. “It felt terrible to be so alone. I hate the idea of someone else feeling like that, especially a kid.”

  Ingrid looked her over in silence. She was startled to find that, for once, she wasn’t trying to calculate how to get rid of Ayame, but imaging how much that loneliness must have hurt and how impressed she was that Ayame had tried to take it away from a stranger, even just for a little while.

  Ayame wiggled under Ingrid’s gaze and looked for a distraction. She pointed to one of the framed advertisements by the door. “See?” she said. “There’s one of those matchmaking ads.”

  Five

  Between English club activities and rapidly approaching speech contests, the rest of Ingrid’s week was tied up. Ayame didn’t seem to mind. She spent her days reading, cooking, and moseying around Sendai. When Ingrid came home, they had quiet evenings together that Ingrid was startled to realize she enjoyed.

  Ayame proved to be good company now that she wasn’t a complete terror. She’d ask Ingrid about her favorite books and Ingrid would do the same. They couldn’t discuss Murakami Haruki. Ingrid thought his work was brilliant. Ayame cringed at his very name, calling him overrated and dull. Ingrid had the same opinion of Jane Austen, so she was off limits too.

  Friday afternoon they finally got their chance to do something other than discuss books or watch American TV—Ayame was hooked on Adventure Time, despite Ingrid insisting that it would rot her brain—and tried to decide how to spend their weekend.

  Thomas called before they could come up with anything.

  “Hey, I’m taking some friends to karaoke,” he said. “You down? We won’t be out late, so don’t wuss out.”

  “I’m making plans with someone tonight,” Ingrid replied. “That doesn’t count as wussing out.”

  Ayame shook her head. “Go have fun. We can do something tomorrow.”

  “Who’s that?” Thomas asked. “Bring them along too. The more the merrier.”

  Ingrid covered her phone to ask, “Thomas says you should come to karaoke. What do you think?”

  Ayame perked up. “It’ll be fine. We’ll just tell them I have a cold.”

  “I
f you’re sure.” Ingrid put the phone back to her ear. “We’ll be there.”

  “I know,” he said. “I was just asking as a formality.”

  Once again Ayame borrowed a set of Ingrid’s clothes, and once again, Ingrid silently had to admit that Ayame was actually cute. Instead of focusing on that, she focused on her pre-karaoke ritual. She browsed her music selection for the best song to start with on the train. Then she swung by a convenience store for a Strong Zero. What the drink lacked in alcoholic percentage it made up in the amount you could buy for cheap. Ingrid knew she’d buy a drink or two at the karaoke place, but she liked to come out of the gate swinging.

  “No beer?” Ayame asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Ingrid plopped down outside the store to chug her drink and wait for Thomas. “Not a fan of beer. I like sweeter stuff like this.”

  “Same.” Ayame slid down next to Ingrid. The two sat in silence as Ayame tapped her feet and built up the courage to say, “Thanks for letting me come, especially after being such a pain.”

  Ingrid shrugged. “Now that you’re not waving a pair of giant scissors around, you’re okay. It’s been weird having you here but…not all bad.”

  Ayame chuckled. “Are you drunk already?”

  “I wish, but all things considered, I’m starting to like you a little bit.”

  Ayame went silent for a moment. “Only a little bit?”

  “Well, you did scare me half to death, break into my apartment, and kept me up last night laughing at Adventure Time.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought I was being quiet.”

  Before Ingrid could accept the apology, she spotted Thomas down the crowded sidewalk. Thomas saw her and beamed as he met her with a bear hug.

  “Glad you could make it,” he teased. Gesturing to his two friends, he added, “This is David and Yuusuke. They’re visiting from Tokyo for the weekend and like jamming out almost as much as we do.”

  Ingrid smiled and shook their hands. “Nice to meet you.” She stepped aside slightly to let Ayame greet the group. “This is my friend Ayame. She works at that cafe I’m always at.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Ayame gave a small wave.

  Thomas draped his arm over Ingrid as they set off. “Damn, girl. If you had said you had a date, I would have let you off the hook.”

  “We’re not on a date,” Ingrid scoffed. “We’re just friends.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Ingrid rolled her eyes and decided to ignore him.

  By the time they reached their favorite karaoke joint, Ingrid’s drink had started to kick in, so she saw no reason to be annoyed at anyone, even though Thomas smirked at her as she paid Ayame’s part of the room rental fee.

  With drinks in hand—Ayame used her “cold” as an excuse not to drink—the group piled into the elevator and then crammed into the small dark room with a giant glowing screen. Once Thomas and his friends had a few turns, Ingrid was drunk enough to sing. She picked an indie rock favorite from her childhood and belted it with the confidence of someone far more intoxicated. She always had been a lightweight.

  No one knew the song that Ayame picked, but apparently, it was all the rage in 1974. Lucky for Ingrid, the others were so riled up that she didn’t have the chance to focus on how Ayame actually sounded really good. Like the rest of her, her voice was cute, despite the mask.

  Ingrid shook off the realization. It had to be the alcohol talking.

  Which was exactly why she needed more.

  Ingrid stumbled out of the room with Ayame close behind and made her way to the elevator with awkward, uneasy steps. Ayame took the liberty of hitting the down button after watching Ingrid struggle.

  “You don’t have to come,” Ingrid said.

  “And have you get trapped in the elevator? You’ve got the apartment key. Gotta keep you safe.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Ingrid stumbled through the open doors and hit the button closest to her. “Good to know your heart is in the right place.”

  Ayame sighed. “I should probably try every once in a while.”

  “Not the worst idea,” Ingrid snickered. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a rather American sense of humor?”

  “Do many Americans spend forty years in solitude cursing the universe?”

  Ingrid suddenly didn’t feel so intoxicated. She steadied herself and focused in an attempt to read Ayame’s expression. She needed to see how serious her friend was being in relation to her attempt to be funny.

  Ayame squirmed under the attention. “I’m only joking. Don’t be so serious.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear in a futile attempt to distract herself, revealing a thin stretch of her scar.

  Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was just a need to know Ayame better, but before she realized it, Ingrid reached out and brushed her finger against the jagged streak of skin. Ayame felt as if she had been standing in the snow for hours.

  Ayame flinched and stepped away, covering her exposed scar with one hand.

  “I’m sorry,” Ingrid exclaimed, shoving her hand in her pocket. “It’s just… You don’t have to joke, especially about that.”

  Ayame let her hair fall back into place and looked up to see what was stalling the elevator. “You hit the button to close the door, Ingrid. Good thing I came with you. You would have been stuck here all night.”

  When they finally reached the bar by the lobby, Ingrid decided she didn’t want a drink after all. Water sounded better, so she bought a bottle and headed back upstairs while Ayame chatted about how much karaoke places had changed since the ’70s. Ingrid didn’t think she took a breath the entire trip back up.

  When their time ran out, Ayame loudly agreed with Thomas that they should go for round two at his favorite eighties-themed bar, despite their language barrier. Ingrid wasn’t sure if it was to avoid the uncomfortable conversation they had started in the elevator or the fact that Ayame had missed out on the ’80s. Ingrid imagined it was both.

  Still, she tried to have fun for Ayame’s sake. They thought having fun would get her to cross over, after all, but Ingrid couldn’t shake the unease it brought her. Sure, it sucked. Everything about Ayame’s situation sucked. That’s why Ingrid had ultimately agreed to help her, but why did it suddenly bother her so much?

  Or had the feeling been growing over the course of the week?

  When Ingrid glanced at her phone and looked at the time, her questions took a back seat to catching the last train for the night.

  The boys decided they’d get a cab and bid the girls good night. Ingrid left with one suggestive look from Thomas and followed Ayame into the night. If they walked briskly, Ingrid knew they’d make the train in plenty of time, but the universe stood strongly against her for one reason or another.

  One street away from the station, a group of men stumbled out of a tiny bar, nearly knocking into Ingrid. It was a normal enough event for a Friday night. Their alcohol-based courage was normal too, but Ingrid wasn’t traveling with a normal companion.

  The youngest man of the group looked Ingrid over after apologizing. “You are an American?” he asked in a slur. “Come drink with us. I like practicing English. Bring your friend.”

  Ayame went rigid.

  “You’re good at it,” Ingrid replied with a smile, trying to slip away. “We have to catch the last train, though. Thank you for the offer.”

  “What about a cab?”

  “Leave her alone,” Ayame hissed.

  The group of men went still, but the youngest tried to laugh it off. “We just want to have fun. No harm in that. I said you can come. Don’t you speak English?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I speak,” Ayame growled. “She said no. Leave us alone if you know what’s good for you.”

  Ingrid grabbed Ayame by the shoulder as all the men went pale. “Ayame, stop. They’re just drunk. They don’t mean anything by it.”

  “You don’t know that,” Ayame replied coldly, glaring the men down. Several of them backed away.


  With an awkward chuckle, Ingrid pushed her down the road. “I’m sorry. She hasn’t been feeling good lately. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” She squeezed Ayame’s arm to keep her from arguing. With a bow, Ingrid excused herself and set off once again for the train station.

  “Are you crazy?” she grumbled. “How the hell do you expect me to break your curse if you get me in trouble? I’m a foreign teacher. That wouldn’t have ended well for me.”

  Ayame yanked away and shoved her hands in her pockets. “They could have been dangerous. If you had gone with them—”

  “I’m not stupid, Ayame.”

  “I know that. I was just scared for you. You’re important.”

  “You could find someone else to break your curse easy enough,” Ingrid sighed.

  “I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

  Ingrid came to a halt. Ayame made it several steps ahead of her before realizing it. She looked around at the closing shops to avoid Ingrid’s eyes. “You know what I mean. I like being around you is all. Don’t we have a train to catch?”

  Ingrid came back to reality and caught up. “Right. Sorry.”

  An uncomfortable silence hung over them from the time they reached the station until they arrived at their stop. It didn’t lift until Ayame stopped on the side of the narrow street and waited for Ingrid to notice.

  Once she did, she blurted, “I’m sorry. I overreacted, I just…” She wrapped her arms around herself and kicked at a pebble. “I’m not used to people anymore, especially men. I know I need to adjust. I’ll work on that.”

  Ingrid shrugged. “That’s fair. I understand.” With a smile, she added, “And I appreciate you looking out for me; just please do it without getting into fights. It sort of defeats the purpose.”

  Ayame rolled her eyes. “You sound like Tomoko.”

  “Who’s that?”

  Ayame winced and unfolded her arms with a sigh. “Her full name was Tomoko Honda,” Ayame said. “We dated when I was alive.”

  Six

  “Tomoko and I dated for about a year,” Ayame explained once they’d arrived home, “and for a while, we really did consider trying to have a future together, but as her graduation neared, she changed. She grew somber and distant. I knew what was coming, but I waited for her to say it. I didn’t want to lose her.