Mirai - a short story

The snow country loomed. 

I stared at the desolation, the bleak whiteness that stretched for miles. Beneath the snow, ghosts of August cried in agony, their rice fields broken and cracked, hardly believing that life would ever be reborn. The wind was the only lover of the snow. It blew hastily, running through my bones and blood vessels until it left through the other side of my body. It looked back at me with a playful smile, inviting me to come again.

A streetlight flickered above my head. I thought it was around four in the afternoon, but I couldn’t be sure. Even the sun could not pierce through the clouds of the snow country. Amaterasu herself could not enter the void. 

My breath came in white puffs that disappeared into the air. Despite the cold, sweat dripped from my underarms, soaking the lining of my jacket. 

“What are you doing here?” The police officer in front of me pointed a finger at my chest. “This is a crime scene. You need to leave.”

But I couldn’t leave. 

Blood soaked the snow around me. A red so deep, it ran purple. A tarp covered the body hidden from my view.

I can’t leave, I thought. 

Not when I killed him.

The view from the apartment struck me. The building sat on a hill, high above the rest of the city. On warm summer nights when the air refused to change, I would head to the roof. Stepping over the small sign that barred entry, I would walk to the edge of the building, looking down on the city by the sea. Through the chain-link fence, I’d stare at the factories by the port as they dazzled the night sky with their industrial novas.

Tonight was no different. The green brilliance of the factory tore through the darkness, an aurora of man. 

The door behind me creaked open. Mirai stepped onto the roof, joining my perch near the chain-link.

“It’s already been six months since you moved here.” She wrapped her fingers through the metal. “I made dinner to celebrate.”

After I had escaped the snow country, I came to the city by the sea. I remembered the red snow. “What did you make?”

“Come downstairs. It’s a surprise.”

I shook my head. “In a few minutes. I want to watch the light.”

“Tomorrow.” Mirai put a hand on my shoulder. “Tomorrow we are going to the shrine.”

I nodded, wondering whether the gods would forgive me. “Do you think it will be okay?”

“I do. You’ve done your best here. You can’t be held responsible for this anymore.” She smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

I would not have believed her had I not loved her so much. 

The next day we went to the shrine. The evening sun burned the edges of the clouds as we trudged up the stone stairs.

Mirai walked through the red gate and made her way to the rope that hung from a weathered bell. She grabbed the rope, clanging the bell three times. She tossed a five-yen coin into the wooden slotted box. Two bows, then Mirai’s hands came together, the claps ringing through the air. 

I watched her, wondering if demons could pray.

When she finished, she turned to me. “Let’s go.” 

I followed her around the back of the large shrine. It sat on a cliff overlooking the sea. Gulls swarmed the sky above, crying into the blue. The waves lulled in the ocean beneath, continuing their eternal pounding on the rocks below.

We climbed up a narrow wooden staircase that led to the second floor of the shrine. Mirai entered first, disappearing from my view. 

I followed, but just as I had thought, they were waiting for me. I did not enter the shrine, but when I stepped through the threshold, the snow country consumed me.

My eyes strained as they adjusted to the darkness. “Mirai!” 

There was no answer. In front of me, the dead rice fields stretched far in the distance. The boy was waiting for me. 

“I knew you’d be back.”

I turned, running from where I stood. My boots scraped against the snow, flinging it behind me as I scrambled away.

“Why did you kill me?”

The question froze me in place. I stopped running. When I turned around, he was no farther away than he had first been.

“Why did you kill me?”

“I didn’t mean to.” Resting my hands on my knees, I tried to catch my breath. “I never meant to.”

“You are running out of time.” The boy came closer to me.

I sucked in the cold air through my teeth. “You weren’t supposed to be here today.”

As if answering me, the wind whipped through the fields, the snow spiraling in trailing wisps behind it. The pellets of ice and snow scraped against my cheek.

“There’s only one way to escape this.” Kneeling down, the boy traced a finger in the snow. “If you truly never meant to kill me, then there is a way to revive me. I can come back.”

My saliva tasted icy as it tore down my throat. I waited for the boy to continue.

“Kill the girl. Kill her and all will be forgiven. Then you and I can live in peace once again.”

Months passed. I didn’t see the boy for quite some time.

I had prepared everything I needed. Now, I only had to wait.

On a day in late August, Mirai took me to the sea. The sun had forgotten its promise with nature to relinquish the heat as the day dwindled. I wiped the sweat from my brow. Even the sea breeze was warm. 

Mirai seemed unbothered by the heat. “Let’s go swimming.”

I watched her from my perch on the rock. The water near us was full of black stones. They were large, disappearing beneath the waves with the lull of the tide. Mirai stood among them, preparing to head into the sea.

“Isn’t it dangerous here?”

She bent down to touch the water with her hand. “It’s fine. I always swim here.”

I moved behind her, watching as the skin around her eyes crinkled.

“To move forward, you need to take a risk.” Mirai smiled, diving into the ocean.

My hands pushed at the air where she was only a moment before. The shift of my weight sent me off balance, and I crashed into the surf.

We swam for hours until the sun set and our skin withered. When the light of the day died, we returned to the parking lot where the car was. 

That night, I went to the roof again. The factory burned green as the port bustled with movement far below. I told Mirai that the boy had asked me to kill her.

“I was planning to do it today, when we went to the sea.”

She said nothing for a long time. The sound of the cars on the street and the invisible stars in the night sky were my only companions for a while.

“If you think it’s best, I can die.” Mirai pulled back from the chain-link fence, staring upwards.

The hot summer remained unrelenting. Mirai and I continued to enjoy the sea. Despite telling her what I had been planning to do, she was unbothered by the proposition of violence.

Towards the end of August, we returned to the shrine once again. This time, I didn’t feel the boy anywhere near the place. I thought the snow country must be far, far away.

Mirai traipsed up the stone stairs. An old woman wearing the white robes of a shrine maiden stood in the small wooden booth. In front of her, colorful omamori lined the shelf. Yet, Mirai didn’t ask for one of the woven charms. Instead, she pointed to a white talisman with the sun goddesses’ name, Amaterasu, written on it.

When we returned home, she placed the talisman on the shrine that I hung on the wall. It was carved from light, supple wood, the smell of the forest still clinging to it. Mirai placed a cup of rice and water on the shrine, praying before it.

“The gods can watch over you now.” She smiled. “So don’t worry.”

I looked up. The shrine sat on the wall above my eye level. It loomed over me. I wondered if Amaterasu could see my sins. If she understood what I had been planning to do.

The next day, Mirai left for work. I stayed behind in the apartment, sitting on the floor of the room, sweat sprinkled on my back as the day’s heat grew. Above me, the shelf seemed undisturbed by the weather.

I tried to read something, but my mind had little interest in the words on the page. Taking out my notebook, I scrawled a few lines of a story. I wanted to write about Mirai, but didn’t feel as if I were doing her justice.

“How can you write of your future when you planned to drown it?”

I looked over towards the thermometer that sat on my bookshelf. It read 28 degrees celsius. Despite that, when the voice cascaded over me, I shivered.

No one else was in the room.

“It is the only way to get rid of my sins. To bring the boy back, I must.” My voice fell on the bare walls.

“You believe the lies of the boy? Killing the future only begets your own death. You may bring the boy back, but you will kill yourself, forever to roam in the snow country. Is that truly what you desire?”

I looked up towards the shrine. The sun came through the window, glinting off the glass that held the rice grains. 

“So, what should I do?”

“Find the boy. You have no need of him any longer. Once he is truly gone, my sun can shine again.”

I searched and searched, but the snow country never came. 

To find the boy, I needed to go there. It was December by the time I had the courage to travel. I kissed Mirai’s forehead and told her I would see her again in a few days.

She drove me to the station. I waved as the escalator lifted me up. The coldness lingered, as if it knew where I was headed. It waited like stalking prey.

I moved through the gates, which beeped as I passed. It wasn’t long before I boarded the train and took my seat by the window. The Shinkansen tore through the winter. The marvel of its mechanisms overshadowed the nature that surrounded it. I watched the land retreat through my vision. The dead blades of grass must have never witnessed something moving so quickly. I saw the war playing out in the wintry fields, the spirits versus the machines.

Eventually, I reached the station. The place tucked in the blue forest. It was crowded. People walked hastily through the chilled gates, phones and tickets granting passageway. 

I zipped my jacket closed. The tendrils of the cold had grown stronger. I was on the outskirts of the snow country.

Taking the escalator down to the ground floor, I exited the station. I boarded the bus near the second gate. My stomach churned as we drove. The snow fell harder, but the bus driver paid little mind to the weather. It was a suicidal march through the forest of snow. 

To move forward, one must take a risk.

Curved roads forked and disappeared down darkened paths. The bus driver did not slow down as he maneuvered the vehicle through the maze of trees. The entrance to the snow country was obscured. Those who had never been, often perished before entering.

I thought of the factory near the port. Its green light would have been shining at about this time. Perhaps Mirai was on the roof, watching the light paint the sky. I hoped she was waiting for me.

We reached the last bus stop, the station made from black stone. All the other passengers had already gotten off. I was the only one left.

I paid the bus driver and stepped out into the abyss. The snow country welcomed me. I entered the dreamworld.

Knowing where the boy would be, I walked inside the station. The old door creaked as it shut. I waited by the kerosene heater in the center of the room. The small fire warmed the nearby plastic chairs. I sat, taking off my gloves and rubbing my hands together. 

The station attendant approached me. “The last train has already left.”

“Thanks. But I’m not taking the train.”

I waited a few more minutes. The light from the bus had gone dark. I walked out to the road, following it until I reached the dead fields of rice. 

Despite the darkness, I saw the boy. He stood in the center of the path, his face shadowed by the blue light of the streetlamp.

“You came.” He approached. “But you still haven’t killed the girl.”

“I’m sorry.” I placed my hands together in front of me. “I decided I must kill you. To go back to my Mirai.”

The boy shook his head. “You can’t do that.”

“I must.”

I took the knife from my jacket, stabbing forward as quickly as I could. Blood sprayed over the snow, trickling through the fields and feeding the dead land. The boy lay still. 

I waited for a long while after that, counting my breaths as the night dwindled and the sun rose. The cold faded, and I looked upwards. 

The sun’s light caressed my cheek. I closed my eyes. Even the wind’s vigor had gone silent. The dreamworld of the snow country melted as I stood over the remains of the past.