Chapter 2.3: The First Visit

Days seamlessly meld into weeks, each one marking a steady progression in my rehabilitation journey. With every sunrise, I can feel a delightful resurgence of strength surging through my lower body—a thrilling, almost electric sensation as I begin to relearn the delicate art of walking.

In the quieter hours between my sessions with Mrs. Hinahata, I often find myself comfortably ensconced in the living room, lost in the vast expanse of the internet or eagerly soaking up knowledge from Kei, who possesses the patience of a saint as she walks me through the intricacies of the unfamiliar world I now inhabit.

This newfound comprehension grants me a fragile yet hopeful grasp on the future. Despite the diligent efforts of Mr. Hinahata, whose meticulous searches yield nothing to help ground me in my own time, my life in this foreign land continues to drift along, the vibrant summer weeks slowly slipping away like grains of sand in an hourglass.

"Remember, if you feel your body start to shake, find somewhere to sit and rest." Mrs. Hinahata instructs, her voice tinged with genuine concern. I've come to appreciate her nurturing nature, even if her protective tendencies sometimes border on being overly cautious.

A normal doctors behaviour I suppose.

"Will do, Mrs. Hinahata." I respond, a tone of gratitude softening my words as I acknowledge her care.

Today is a sun-drenched Saturday, a day unburdened by the school term that resumes on Monday, and I feel an insatiable urge to venture out and familiarize myself with the bustling city around me. The past few weeks have blossomed into a series of triumphs, each small step a testament to my gradual reclamation of muscle strength and mobility. However, there are days when self-doubt clouds my thoughts, making it difficult to recognize any substantial progress.

But one vivid memory stands out—my first moment standing unaided—forever etched in my mind. The euphoria of that victory washed over me like a tidal wave, flooding my heart with relief and joy. Tears streamed down my face as I reveled in a flicker of hope, akin to golden sunlight piercing through a dreary, overcast sky.

With Mrs. Hinahata back at the hospital fulfilling her regular shifts, the atmosphere within the house shifts noticeably, leaving the space feeling more open and unguarded, just me and Kei.

Over the course of these weeks, I've unearthed a delightful truth about Kei: she is not only astoundingly perceptive but also strikingly athletic, a dynamic blend of wit and strength. She has eagerly embraced the role of my mentor, taking it upon herself to teach me the basics of writing and arithmetic, all in preparation for school—a place she whimsically refers to as "dramatic teens learning useless things."

Despite my educational gaps and the barrage of questions I often pose—some of which I find embarrassing and others purely naive—Kei never once shows any signs of frustration. Instead, her patience appears boundless, which I treasure immensely.

Now, as I sit across from her, contemplating how to approach a particularly significant and personal subject, I draw in a steadying breath. "Say, Kei." I begin, my voice tentative yet resolute. She's comfortably tucked into the far end of the couch, her legs curled beneath her and her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, her complete focus on the tablet resting in her lap.

When her gaze lifts to meet mine, her auburn eyes alight with curiosity, I seize the moment. "Do you happen to know where the cemeteries are?"

"Which one?" she replies, her brow furrowing slightly as she tries to understand my request.

"The old cemetery." I specify, my heart racing as I feel the weight of my inquiry settle heavily in the air between us. "The one in Shibuya."

Kei nods slowly, her sharp eyes mirroring my unease and curiosity. I rush to clarify further. "There's something important I need to do there. Could you guide me?"

At long last, it feels like the moment has arrived for me to pay my parents a visit.

***

We boarded a crowded bus that was making its way to the pulsating heart of Shibuya. As we rolled through the streets, I felt a familiar rush of awe wash over me, captivated by the astonishing advancements of technology around every corner. If someone had told me that this mesmerizing urban oasis was Shibuya, I would have found it hard to accept.

The skyline was a vibrant tapestry of luminous neon signs that decorated nearly every towering skyscraper. Each facade shimmered with hues of electric blue, neon pink, and bright green, casting a brilliant kaleidoscope of colors that danced across the throngs of people bustling below. Holographic images flickered and whirled on massive billboards, their elaborate designs appearing almost three-dimensional, as if they might leap off the surface at any moment.

"Too cool." I exclaimed, my gaze riveted on a holographic dragon soaring elegantly along one of the buildings, swirling and twisting in the vivid, glowing light. "I can't even imagine what movies look like these days."

"Find one you wanna watch, and we'll go see it." Kei replied with a carefree tone, striding confidently through the sea of people that flowed like a river around us.

I hurried to keep pace behind her, weaving through the crowd. Her hair was styled with effortless elegance in twin tails that bounced playfully with each step. The choker around her neck added a dash of sophistication, complementing the sleek black dress that fit her figure like a glove, hugging her curves gracefully. Her thigh-high, stiletto-heeled boots lent her an edgy flair that made her stand out even more. Kei had a remarkable sense of fashion, and I couldn't help but admire her style as she moved through the lively streets.

In stark contrast, I felt rather average in my outfit—a blend of comfort and budget-consciousness. Mrs. Hinahata had ordered me a selection of clothes from an online store, and here I was, clad in a vibrant red shirt emblazoned with a cheerful panda, paired with dark blue jeans and comfortable trainers.

The oversized black jacket that Kei had given me during my hospital stay still enveloped my shoulders, its warm fabric a comforting reminder of her support. Meanwhile, my hair had grown considerably longer, styled with the sides shaved and a short faux hawk on top—a look that I was gradually beginning to embrace with a sense of pride. The scar on the right side of my head was healing well.

As I took in all the brilliant sights and sounds of Shibuya, an overwhelming wave of gratitude washed over me for the kindness this family had extended toward me. I still needed to think of a meaningful way to repay them for everything they had done to help me.

I noticed a few passersby casting curious glances in my direction, their eyes lingering on the scar etched prominently on the right side of my head. Despite my best efforts to project confidence, a wave of self-consciousness crept in, and I averted my gaze, attempting to shake off the unease. Deep down, I knew that this scar represented an indelible part of my identity—a poignant reminder of my survival and resilience.

"I didn't take you for a movie girl." I remarked, recalling how I often caught Kei lost in her tablet instead of engrossed in films.

Yet, the thought struck me that I didn't know much about her interests, and curiosity bubbled up within me. Kei turned her head sharply, her expression shifting to mild surprise. "You've never asked about anythin', so it's only natural you wouldn't know."

She hit the nail on the head.

"I just didn't want to come off as prying into your private life." I replied earnestly, my voice stepping lightly through the conversation. "I'm really grateful that you and your parents have taken me in. I wouldn't want to overstep any boundaries."

She halted abruptly, fully pivoting to face me. With a playful poke of her forefinger against my chest, she imparted her sage wisdom: "There's pryin', and then there's genuine curiosity. It's best to learn the difference now; otherwise, you might end up making a few enemies at school."

With that, she turned back and continued striding ahead, leaving me to ponder her insightful words as I quickly fell back into step beside her, a mix of admiration and contemplation swirling in my mind.

As we approached the cemetery, a stark realization hit me: while technology had advanced at a dizzying pace, certain corners of existence remained untouched by its influence.

"This place hasn't changed a bit." I remarked softly, a sense of nostalgia washing over me as the scene evoked memories of the old cemeteries I'd glimpsed in movies—seeming both sombre and serene.

The entrance was framed by creaky, iron gates, their once-vibrant paint now faded and rusted, emitting a low groan as I eased them open. Beyond the gates unfolded a cemetery that resembled a sprawling labyrinth, with tall gravestones standing rigidly in disorganized lines, some leaning away from their original positions, perhaps hinting at the passage of time that had eroded their foundations.

The air felt thick with an ancient quietude, a muted reverence enveloping us. Every gravestone was shrouded in a dense layer of moss, suggesting years of neglect, as if the stories told by the names etched into the stone had gradually faded from memory.

"Do you, um, want me to wait here?" Kei asked cautiously, hesitant by the gates. Her uncertain expression mirrored the sombre atmosphere, clearly torn between the desire to support me and the instinct to keep her distance from this place steeped in sorrow.

Turning back to her, I felt a rush of anxiety at the concern etched across her features. Recognizing the turmoil in my eyes, she inhaled deeply, steeling herself before pushing off from the gates and walking toward me with a quiet, determined resolve. Together, we stepped into the cemetery, an enveloping silence settled around us, thick and almost tangible as I searched for the people I had come here for.

We made our way to a section of the cemetery where a cluster of gravestones marked an intimate corner. Standing before two particular stones, I ran my fingers over the coarse surface, gently brushing away the green-tinted moss that clung stubbornly to their surfaces.

'Saeko Irogami' and 'Hitsui Irogami' were carved with precision, standing out against the weathered stone. My eyes lingered on my mother's grave, and I whispered softly, "1971 - 2019," the years etched into the granite felt like cold weight in my chest. Turning to my father's stone, I read the dates that marked his passage: '1969 - 2020.'

Learning of their passing was a revelation that had immured me in sorrow upon first scanning through the data with my Holograph 2.0. Yet, standing here in the tangible silence, with their names before me, an overwhelming surge of emotions flooded over me, a tumult I hadn't foreseen.

Kei hung back a few paces, her presence a steadying force as I wrestled with my thoughts, the warmth of her gaze penetrating the fog of my grief. "The last words I uttered to my parents were accusations—blame for bringing me into this world." I admitted, each word laden with the weight of regret that pressed down on my soul. "I made my own mother cry, forcing her to apologize for being a terrible parent."

She stepped closer, our shoulders brushing lightly as a moment of shared sorrow enveloped us. Together, we stood before the gravestones that marked my parents' final resting place, my gaze unwavering. The chiselled letters of their names began to blur as tears welled in my eyes, each droplet a fragment of my memories, whisking me back to days long past—a mix of regret, longing, and profound sadness intertwining with the silence around us.

"I arrived here burdened with questions, each one weighing heavy on my heart, so I began to dig into the past." I began, my voice a whisper tinged with sorrow. "I vanished from the hospital—my absence a complete enigma to both doctors and the police. Meanwhile, my parents, frantic and desperate, launched their search efforts, perhaps believing that I couldn't be far from their reach given my fragile condition." A morbid chuckle escaped my lips, a hollow sound that reverberated against the stillness surrounding us.

Crouching before the moss-covered gravestones, I closed my eyes, allowing memories to flutter in my mind like fragile moths drawn to a flame—fleeting glimpses of my parents' smiling faces during my childhood. "After a year of exhaustive searching, they ultimately found no trace of me." As I extended my fingers to graze my mother's gravestone, the cold stone sent a shiver through me, its chill seeping into my very core.

"They said she died of a broken heart." I whispered, my voice cracking like fragile glass, as I shifted my hand to hover over my father's grave. "And my father... he drowned his guilt in alcohol until it consumed him entirely."

As despair tightened its grip like a vise, my hand fell limply to my side, trembling under the weight of those harrowing revelations. Sobs began to escape my lips, soft and muffled, as tears streamed down my cheeks, pooling in the earth beneath me like a small reservoir of sorrow.

"I'm the reason they're gone." I cried out in a subdued tone, the admission stemming from a place of raw, tearing pain within my chest. I vividly recalled, agonizing the moment I'd learnt of their demise, the night spent in my dark bedroom, where the walls seemed to close in around me as I wept for hours upon discovering the fate of my parents.

They had sacrificed so much for my sake, their lives devoted entirely to meeting my needs, and yet, in my darkest moments, I unleashed a venomous barrage of anger upon them, disappearing without so much as a farewell.

To them, my departure must have felt like a choice—a conscious decision to abandon the love we shared. I came to terms with the harsh truth that the likelihood of reconnecting with them, alive and well, after 50 years was nearly nonexistent. But learning that they had barely survived a year after my disappearance hit me like a knife thrust into my gut, the pain seeping deep within. Regret washed over me, an inky wave that burrowed deep, a feeling that would forever stain the corners of my heart.

A gentle hand, nails painted black, settled upon my shoulder, pulling me from the shadows of my grief. I turned to find Kei crouched beside me, her expression a mix of sorrow and understanding. Quickly, I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand, unwilling to show any hint of vulnerability.

"Crying isn't a sign of weakness, you know." She stated, her voice a comforting blend of firmness and kindness. Rising to her feet, she turned to gaze at the vast expanse of the bright blue sky, the sun casting golden rays across the landscape. "I like to believe that those we love transform into stars, watchin' over us from afar, guidin' us to persevere through the darkness."

The idea of stars in the night sky lingered in my mind like a delicate melody; I stole a glance at Kei, noticing a small, hopeful smile playing at the corners of her black painted lips as her gaze drifted into the horizon. "I believe your parents understood that deep down, you never truly hated them." She said, her eyes returning to mine with an unwavering sincerity. "That's why they searched for you so fervently."

With that, she extended her hand toward me, offering a lifeline in the tumult of emotions overwhelming me. "We can't rewrite the past, Asahi," Kei continued, "but we hold the power to shape our future—a future where we carry no regrets."

Her words echoed within me, resonating as a poignant reminder I knew would stay with me for the rest of my life.