shrines, viewing the beatific face of the Buddha and the smaller elegant statues of Kwannon. She knew a few prayers from the Christian canon, far more comfortable with the sight of a cross rising above a small peaked roof.
She thought of the difference in the religions of her parents, glancing once at a guidebook she'd picked up in the train station. The Aoyama cemetery was visible nearby, visible from the Roppongi hills, sprawling, massive. Consisting of a maze of pine trees and stone markers, fewer people entered the temple gates as late afternoon drew on.
On the street beyond the weathered stone temple rising in peaks above a red Torii gate, someone collided hard into her shoulder. Ji-Won stumbled, catching the scent of smoke from a fire. Distant, fading. She glanced back at the tall, thin man passing through the arched shadow of the Torii gate. You...it's you.
He never stopped to bow to the bald priest, clad in somber colors. Prayer beads chinked softly; bells tinkled somewhere in the breeze. She didn't stop to wonder at the sound ringing pure high notes. Deep down she couldn't say why she followed him down the steps into the labyrinth of narrow paths scented by wafting incense.
"Wait! Wait! Wait, I-" You're the only one who I know in this place. The only person who believed in me. He wasn't far ahead, she could see his profile as he turned; in his hand he carried something small and white. Ji-Won stopped to pluck futilely at the lace of her shoe that had come undone. "Wait!" Can't you hear me? The shrill sound of her voice sent a wave of black birds flying from a nearby tree. Distracted, she watched them take flight on glossy wings.
"I want us to meet."
"Where? How will I know you?"
"You'll know me, I'm your brother. Blood calls to blood."
She'd formed the sound of Tetsuya's voice in her head, wondered about the symmetry of their features. Tetsuya was her half-brother; he'd wanted to meet her personally, saying that a person couldn't truly know another person without face to face contact.
Blood calls to blood.
The stranger had stopped down one of the intersecting paths. He stood before a plain stone, smaller than the rest bereft of incense and ash left behind by mourners of other deceased. Her steps slowed, there seemed something sad about his singular figure, something indefinable that called out to her.
"You-," and she didn't know what to say.
He half-turned and then before her startled eyes, vanished sadly from sight.
"Where...?"
She tottered the few steps that had remained between them.
"Where are you?"
There was nothing and no one, she was alone. The only trace of his presence was a slight chill in the air and the paper left at the base of the grave marker. She bent and turned it over. The paper bore water spots, stained with a thousand tears from the sky. Ji-Won carefully unfolded the rumpled paper, struggling to make out the scribbled words written on the back of a small photograph. Tears welled in her eyes; a soft gasp left her lips.
The stranger’s eyes stared out from the face of a young man beside a small middle-aged woman, smiling out of time.
To my sister, family; was inscribed on the back.
- finis -
Note on translation:
(Halmeoni: Grandmother)
(Appa: father)
(Okaasan-mother)
(Nihonjin: a Japanese person)
(Han-in: a Korean person)
(Betsu-ni: It’s nothing)
AN: This week's a double publishing with the release of The Unseen: A ghost story, on Thursday. Thanks for reading :-)
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