Work Text:
If a material wall would be a “wall that keeps the body from passing through”, then the barrier would be a “wall that keeps people’s thoughts from passing through”. Going through the barrier – in other words, to be spirited away – is something that happens when one is in a particular state of mind, where consciousness is hazy, and then your whole self would jump through.
Fujinami station. Abandoned, like most these days. It’s one claim to fame, long forgotten, being the last known appearance of a missing person. A girl with naturally green hair, the miracle shrine maiden from Nagano.
All that remained of her now were a few newspaper clippings, the broken recollections of a couple people, and a cold case. But Renko wasn’t there as a detective. No, they were there as a passenger.
It wasn’t much to look at. A single train car lay dormant and rusted, earthen tendrils reclaiming its surface for a better view of the sun. The tracks were gone, stalky browns and swaying greens in their place.
She stood silently, eyes fixated on the cracked concrete and moss under foot. Then, to the first evening star shining overhead. So, the waiting began. What for? Something? Someone? Who knows. It’s the question she’d been searching fourteen years to answer.
It was winter when their heart broke. That much they could remember. Time and dream had long since stolen the reason it broke — who they were searching for. Yet the pain never dulled. It stayed sharp like the winter air.
And if that question remained unanswered — if her head only held a handful of shattered recollections, the hole in her chest would grow and grow until Renko Usami was no more.
But there was no choice in the matter to begin with. She had lost someone. That someone needed her. She would see this fantasy through to whatever end it held, armed with the scribblings of a madwoman, a single bullet, and a tiny flame of hope.
Like a lighter on a windy day, she held that hope close to her chest with a hand cupped around it. It was her final card to play – and beyond that – her life-blood.
In these musings, the headlights of the train car ignite. Metal on metal groaned as it pulled forwards, bringing vines and branches and all. It hissed with air and the door slid open slowly.
Like a bout of somnambulism, their body moved while their mind wandered. Then, it stopped in front of the door. A shadow waited patiently. It needed a ticket, of course. She reached into a trench coat pocket and produced a book. Freak Report by Dr. Latency.
It was a pen name. That lead had been a dead end, like most others. Nothing in this world could explain who wrote it, not anymore at least. Nothing could explain why a book of blank pages sold so well. Why it broke Renko’s heart to hand it over.
The shadow stepped back with the book, and gazed upon Renko with what might have once been a face.
She lingered for a moment in front of the doorway, gazing up at the star that guided her. The journal contained one final note for this reality. One that would mark her existence, that Renko Usami did exist — at least — for a time. She placed it under a sturdy rock and left it on the platform.
But memories never had the luxury of lingering.
Renko stepped aboard, and the shadow receded into the old machine and vanished. One seat called out, its bed of moss asking for a companion. Renko sat. It wasn’t long before the train doors closed and it started to move.
Train rides were fun as a child. Endless small towns and rusted scaffolding overgrown with foliage gave the freedom to wander from one daydream to the next. They had lost their charm long ago, when concrete desserts scorched the earth and the violence of bureaucracy scarred her.
This train, though, brought her to those dreams, and the landscape shifted to accommodate them. Buildings grew smaller than she’d remembered, the roads became gravel trails. The few cars out the window became old and manual.
Then, scenes passed by, splintered in a thousand places. White shores and a sea with no waves reflected in a fountain. A dive bar too musty for its prices. A metallic jungle drowned in flora, and a window overlooking earth. Then, something scary, something painful. What was it?
Ah, that’s it. The same old pain. Separation.
And the cafe, oh the cafe. Vanilla cake with strawberries overlooking a city with its hope intact.
Like memories, the scenes didn’t last. Just glimpses into times and places that were hers to bear, hers to forget. Was it taunting with time long since lost? Or was it uncaring, simply replaying the shattered memories.
After all, that’s what she was now. A fractured memory shared between a handful of people. That apartment neighbor who was either always out, or never left. The car that remained parked in the same spot year round. Ah, and one note — that nobody will read — tucked neatly under a rock.
Sunlight shone from the other side, and the faint reflection stared back for a moment. She caught two brown eyes and the creases underneath them. They were Renko’s eyes.
That’s who she was, wasn’t it? Renko Usami. A memory that can’t remember itself is liable to be lost forever. It was death, and more severely, spoiling the big punchline.
Metal cried and the train slowly came to a halt. There was a quiet hiss, and the doors opened. The stop was nothing more than a sign and a raised concrete platform. It was not Renko’s stop. She knew this somehow.
A translucent form boarded the train and a four wheeled suitcase followed them, squeaking periodically as it rolled. They paused next to Renko for a moment, the suitcase bumping into their back. The shadow regarded Renko thoughtfully.
Renko raised her hat with a hand, and returned it to her head. The dark form returned a slow nod. The suitcase wheels could be heard squeaking even after they crossed the threshold to the car ahead, until the door closed behind them. And Renko was alone again. Well, that much had been true for fourteen years, but she was alone on the train. The doors closed with a hiss, and it continued onwards.
The ride was long, made longer by the periodic stops. One, an island with a single building. Another, an empty city illuminated by purple street lamps. Another yet, a winding playground of concrete tunnels. In all those stops, nobody else boarded the train. No humans, shadows, figures, or memories.
Despite the underlying buzz of dissociation and sleep deprivation, Renko kept that flame close to her chest — along with her name. The stop was getting closer, and something changed.
Ink and graphite returned to her journal of their own volition. It filled out more of the drawing and detail of Her.
Purple eyes! That’s what it said, that she had purple eyes.
Renko had to put their trust in a past self, for they couldn’t remember those eyes. Like a floater in the eye, always darting away when they tried to look at it.
But it was reassuring. They were going to be ok. Not now, not soon, but one day.
Renko adjusted the brim of her hat with a finger and stayed her course til the end of the line.