Shinigami Eyes

by Adam Smith

  “I’m fine.” My motto, yet again. I hobble my way over to the door.

  “No, you’re not.” She tugs on my arm, pulling me away from the waiting train. “No matter how many times you say that, I can see you’re not.”

  “What are you doing? I thought we were going home.” I grasp at any way I can to change the subject.

  “I know exactly what you need, and we still have two hours before Grandfather expects us home.” Haruka gives a quick glance back at me, a smile spreading across her face as she starts dragging me over to the other platform where Miki has been staring raptly at the nearest vending machine for the last five minutes.

  “We’re not going home?” I call out to her, as I watch our train pull away from the station without us.

  The way she said ‘need’ sends shivers rushing up my spine. I’m not sure I want to know what she thinks I need, but it can’t be good. Her last surprise was an extra two hours of school. Can’t imagine what she’ll do to top that.

  * * *

  I watch as Haruka and Miki dance in unison to a game very similar to Dance Dance Revolution, their school skirts swaying back and forth in time with the music. I can’t help but smile as the two of them perform their crazy little dance on the dance pads. The way they move looks as if they have had a lot of practice with this game.

  Haruka’s big surprise was to drag me to the centre of the electronics capital of Tokyo—Akihabara—where we walked, me partly hobbling, around all the bright and noisy shops, past all the neon signs and electronic billboards blasting advertisements from all angles, and finally into an arcade.

  It all seems like a bad joke, people wanting to waste all their money on unbeatable claw machines and cheap game machines. Seriously, the whole bright white ground level is full of those weird two-fingered claw machines stuffed with prizes ranging from tiny little baubles to hug pillows to big expensive collector statuettes and jewellery. All the prizes that people will never win no matter how skillful they claim to be. Especially when you consider that most of the machines only have one or two claws on them, not really something you’d be able to grab prizes with.

  After being forced up to the higher levels, I now feel like my head’s going to explode. The bright neon lights flashing different shades of reds, greens, blues, and pinks, all blend together in one dimly lit room of loud gaming machines fighting to be heard—screaming for attention—as each blasts out some mixture of high-pitched J-pop tunes and heavy techno beats. At least we haven’t reached the floors where all the shooters and fighting games are—I can hear the clackety-clacks and shoryukens from here whenever this cacophony of music dips even the slightest.

  Despite the highly visible signs saying no smoking and no actual traces of cigarettes, there’s still a stale stink of smoke filling the air, combining with the harsh perfumes and sweaty odours of all the gamers, it’s enough to make my empty stomach churn.

  The song comes to an end and Haruka steps away from the game, the uber-chipper computer declaring Miki the winner. She comes over to me, panting hard. The heavy breaths spliced in with her words make it hard to understand, but it’s probably the same as the last fifteen times she asked. “Are you sure you don’t want a go?”

  “No, I’m fine.” I glance around the area, not meeting her eyes. She gives me a look and I add, “My ankle’s just hurting a bit. I don’t think I should be jumping on it.”

  “I’m so sorry, Rin-chan,” Haruka says in a rushed breath.

  The constant chatter and laughter of the crowded room can be heard clearly over the noise of the machines that line the walls and aisles of this room. It’s nearly too much, all these bright flashing lights, all this noise. Feeling a sudden surge of claustrophobia crashing over me, I turn and push my way through the crowd.

  Ignoring the pain pulsing up my leg as my ankle takes the majority of my weight, I hammer at the elevator button. For some reason all the escalators lead up, with only the elevators to act as exits. The crushing wave of nausea doesn’t stop until I escape the building and a rush of icy, fresh air hits me in the face, allowing me to breathe again.

  “Rin-chan.” Haruka races after me.

  “I’m fine,” I try to convince her, but she keeps looking at me like I’m some weak little puppy who might run out in front of a car if she doesn’t keep a close eye on it. “I just needed some fresh air, that’s all.”

  “Would you like to go home?” Her voice saddens at the prospect. Even though it’s clear she’s only trying to cheer me up, I’m pretty sure she really likes playing truant as well. “We can go home if you want to.”

  “No.” I shake my head in a vigorous motion, not really needing to think about that. I want to stay away from that house as long as possible. I don’t need to be yelled at and blamed for things I didn’t do right now. Staying out as long as possible is probably in my best interest. “What about grabbing something to eat?”

  She remains silent for a few moments before the smile returns to her face. “Okay. That sounds like a good idea.”

  “I know a good coffee shop near here,” Miki announces as she bounces up behind Haruka. “It’s a fantastic café, and it will help you forget all about what happened.”

  Tall buildings surround us on all sides, displaying ads for various products or sales showing cutesy anime characters. There are plenty of game and anime stores, some four or five levels tall. All noisy and overcrowded with people wandering every which way, it all makes me really miss Sydney. It’s bustling, too, but at least back home it’s a familiar bustling, not this strange alien landscape I find myself in.

  Miki finally comes to a stop outside a themed café near the train station. “This is the place.”

  It looks like a place for giant robots. It’s from some kind of anime or something, but one giant robot show looks the same as every other to me. I don’t really pay that much attention to anime.

  I follow the two inside and take a seat at one of the vacant tables in the room while the pair go order the food. I keep it simple and get a hot chocolate with some sort of character drawn on top in chocolate powder and a robot shaped cream filled pastry—a taiyaki according to what Haruka says it is. Not the best meal, but at least something I should be able to keep down.

  While I wait for my drink and pastry, I turn my attention to the bustling flow of pedestrians outside the window, quietly tapping my drumsticks against the table. Amidst the numerous swarms of businessmen countless people in strange outfits wander by, several dressed as maids for some reason. Everyone acting like it’s all completely normal.

  “Rin,” a hushed voice calls out from behind me. One that makes the hair on my neck stick up and goosebumps spread across my arms. Is he following me or something?

  I refuse to listen to him. I refuse to acknowledge I have even heard him. I just stare at the people rushing in all directions past the window outside with renewed interest.

  “Rin, I need to talk to you,” he hisses in my direction.

  I turn around to yell at him, but freeze up when I see how close he’s been sitting the entire time. Crouched two tables away from me, with several coffee cups spread out on the table in front of him, is Matt. How’d I not notice him sitting there?

  “What do you want, Matt?” I sigh.

  His green eyes stare at me, a look of hope shining in them. His blond hair spiked out above his creased and dishevelled uniform makes him look seriously wired. Like someone taste testing a lightning rod. Most of the cups on the table in front of him are empty but one is still half full. Geez, how much coffee does this guy drink? “I told you something was going to happen. You need to listen to me.”

  “Yeah, that’s only because you caused it.” I try to keep my voice low and calm. I can’t afford to lose my temper, especially in such a crowded place like this.

  “You think I pushed you?” he spits out, his brow furrows and his gaze sinks to the floor for a brief moment before returning to my face, obviously hurt and shocked at the accusation.
/>   “Well, someone did.”

  “Yeah, well, it wasn’t me.”

  “Why should I believe you? You would do anything to get people to believe you.”

  I’m about to stand and find Haruka when Matt grabs my arm and thrusts the manga at me. “You have to believe me,” he begs. “I just got the next issue, it’s not good.”

  “What, do you want to do now? Push me in front of a bus this time?” I shove at him but he doesn’t let go.

  “Just look at it. It’s not showing you as the victim anymore.” He pushes the book right up into my face, forcing me to look.

  It’s on the last page of the manga, more like a preview for the next issue than a part of the current story. A character, who looks an awful lot like me, stands over the broken silhouette of a person lying in a pool of blood, holding a baseball bat. Something about the look of murderous rage on the character’s face tells me she’s not exactly helping that person. But that’s not what catches my eye, and makes me choke. It’s the small child standing behind her, staring at the horrific scene in despair. The small child that looks exactly like Misa.

  “See!” Matt says, shoving the manga into my hands. “It even shows Misa, your little sister. You can’t say that’s just a coincidence.”

  “How do you know about Misa?” My voice shaky as I struggle to breathe.

  “The manga told me about her.”

  I push his hand away, shaking my head, but he refuses to give up and continues pushing the manga at me until I agree to take it.

  “How else do you think I’d know about your sister? She’s in the manga. Same as you. Same as me.” A triumphant smile spreads across his face.

  I shake my head again—which seems to be the only thing I can do right now—trying to come up with some answer that would make more sense than what he’s telling me. Out of the corner of my eye I see Haruka and Miki talking to each other near the counter, utterly oblivious to Matt’s presence.

  “You’re wrong. The manga is wrong. I don’t even have a sister.”

  “Just look at it. You’ll see that I’m right.” Matt gives one final glance back at me before getting up and moving towards the counter.

  Darting my gaze around the room, I can only think of one thing as Haruka and Miki arrive at the table carrying our food, still completely unaware of Matt’s visit. How the hell does he know about Misa?

  I barely touch my food, suddenly not hungry. Miki and Haruka chatter away happily while I just stare at the final page of the book I hold hidden underneath the table. The page that shows me standing over a dead body while my imaginary friend looks on in despair. My imaginary friend who’s not even supposed to exist.

  Chapter 9

  I slip inside when we get home, careful not to step in the line of grey powder lining the door, still unable to turn my thoughts from the book hidden deep inside my bag. And immediately tense up when I’m greeted by Grandfather’s angry face.

  “Your Juku called and said you never arrived this evening.” Every line of his stern face twitches with outrage, and I swear his dark eyes turn an even darker shade of black as he glares down at me. “Is this any way to show respect to this household?”

  “Ojii-san, please forgive us.” Haruka steps between the angry old man and me. “It was my fault. It was my idea, not Rin-chan’s.”

  He ignores Haruka and, without taking his eyes off me, says, “We need to talk now, Rin.” Each word is clipped and stern. He turns around and heads towards his study without giving me a second glance.

  Defeated, I slip my shoes off and place them in the cupboard. Haruka shoots me an apologetic glance as I follow Grandfather into his room.

  He slides the door closed, but instead of taking his usual seat on the cushion, he paces the room. He stops near the window and closes his eyes before saying anything.

  Not knowing whether I should sit on the cushion or stand, I just stop in the centre of the room, gaze lowered to the floor and wait for him to speak.

  “Do you think my rules are a joke?” His voice stern rises in volume with each word until he’s near yelling. “And now you have convinced your cousin to disobey me as well. Is this how little respect you have for me?”

  “No, Grandfather,” I mumble, dropping my gaze to the tatami mats covering the floor. Even though his eyes are shut, I can’t bare the angry look he’s directing at me. I know it won’t be of any use to argue that we didn’t go because someone pushed me down the stairs. For some reason I don’t think he’d believe me even if I did. “I’m sorry.”

  “No matter what I tell you, you still go out of your way to disrespect me,” he lowers his voice so I have to strain to hear him. He now sounds more like a tired old man than the fearsome Grandfather I’ve encountered every time I’ve entered this room. Somehow, this scares me more than when he was yelling. “I don’t know what to do with you, Rin. I knew it was trouble bringing you here, but when your mother begged me to help I couldn’t say no. I can tell you that all of this acting out will not get you sent home any sooner. No matter how many times you rearrange the furniture, or try to get your cousin into trouble over your irresponsible decisions.”

  “Sorry,” I repeat. Then, something he said hits me. “Wait—I didn’t move any—”

  He cuts me off suddenly back to his usual intimidating self. “You will go straight to your room, and I will decide on a suitable punishment for you. Do not disrespect me or this household again.”

  I nod, still in shock over the accusation that I rearranged the freaking furniture. How old does he think I am? Six or something? When did I even have time to do this?

  “Leave me.”

  I push myself out of the room, dragging my feet along the cool mats and onto the wooden floorboards out in the hall.

  When I reach Haruka’s bedroom I’m glad to find her not there. It’s not that I don’t want to see her, I just really need to be alone right now. Too much has happened today, and I don’t need another lecture or worse sympathy, I just need a chance to process. Let’s start with the big one. Misa. How did she wind up in a manga? For most of my life I’ve been told that she’s only a figment of my imagination. If she’s not, then what is she? Maybe it’s all a coincidence. Maybe whoever’s been telling Matt about me mentioned my imaginary friend even though I don’t see how, anyone that would know is back in Australia. Did Mum tell Grandfather? Did he tell everyone? Does everyone here already know?

  I shake my head. Matt thought Misa was my sister, so unless he’s playing some really elaborate prank, I don’t think that’s it. At least I hope not. Besides how would he even know what she looks like?

  Closing the door, I dig the manga out of my bag and just stare at the image of the girl wearing a maid outfit handing out fliers on a busy street depicted on the cover. For someone so obsessed with this manga, he gave it to me pretty quickly. What is he up to?

  Flipping to the last page, the eerie picture of me standing over a dead body glares back up at me. The tiny form huddled behind my duplicate looks exactly like her. “Misa,” I hiss.

  I look around expecting her to pop up like she usually does, but she’s nowhere to be found. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen her all day. Now, wouldn’t that just be great? I finally find something that might prove she’s not imaginary, and she up and disappears.

  “Misa, where are you?” I say a little louder.

  The sound of the door opening behind me makes me jump.

  “Rin-chan,” I hear Haruka’s soft voice coming from the doorway. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine.” I quickly toss the manga under the bed before turning around to face her. Hopefully she didn’t see it.

  “Who’s Misa?”

  “What?” I try playing dumb.

  “Isn’t that who you were just calling for?” She looks around the room.

  I race through all the answers I can think of, which isn’t that easy since I also have to translate those comebacks into Japanese. I finally go with, “She’s no one.”


  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you into trouble over this.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I’m not sure if I really mean it, but I don’t want to make her feel guilty about me taking all the blame.

  She moves over to her bed and collapses on it, waits a whole five seconds before turning to me and saying, “So, are you going to tell me who Misa is?”

  “Like I said, she’s no one.” I shake my head, hoping that she’ll be satisfied with that answer.

  “That’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.” She grabs a book from the small table beside her bed and flips it open. Lying down on the bed, she turns her attention towards reading, clearly still itching to ask questions.

  I’ll take the silent treatment over the ‘you’re insane’ looks she’d give me if I actually told her about Misa. I’m not even sure what I’d tell her anyway.

  * * *

  I stand at the sink, soapy water dripping off my hands. One of the many punishments Grandfather decided on was list of chores I needed to complete each day. Meaning my day comes down to being stuck at school all day and then having to spend most of the night doing chores. I wonder if Grandfather included time for me to have meal and toilet breaks when he was planning this schedule.

  A sudden voice breaks through my angst-filled daze. “Rin.”

  I jerk around in surprise and the soapy dish goes flying from my hands. The plate crashes to the ground beside Misa, sending fragments of crockery flying in all directions.

  I crouch down and quickly begin picking up the pieces, hoping that no one heard that. But since it’s me, I don’t have that kind of luck. “Misa, what did you do?”

  Grandmother rushes into the room with a dustpan and small broom. She crouches down beside me, and without saying anything or making eye contact, she begins to sweep the broken plate into the dustpan.

  I look between Misa and Grandmother and back again. When I turn back to Grandmother, her gaze is darting around the room like she’s searching for something.