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The changing of the seasons meant the arrival of a number of things: the changing of the leaves, the subtle rise or dip in temperature from the previous season, new life, or death. Or to Takashi Natsume, it was a quarterly reminder of just how weak his immune system can truly be. Cherry blossoms have finally started to bloom in Hitoyoshi, and he, Nyanko Sensei, and the Dog’s Circle planned on hiking up to the mountain where the Shirakiri flowers bloomed last year to watch the petals dance in the breeze. How ironic how he managed to catch yet another fever, and how irritating that Nyanko Sensei was in his ear yet again telling him how much of a wimp he is. Though, to give credit where it’s due, he wasn’t entirely wrong.
The spring breeze managed to cool him off just enough to where he wasn’t absolutely miserable under his futon. The wind chime hanging on his window frame created soothing music, almost like a lullaby, to lull him to sleep. Maybe it wasn’t the greatest idea to leave it wide open considering youkai could definitely barge in and beg Takashi to release their names. But then again, they’d only end up coming in or luring him out another way; he felt this was easier. His body finally allowed him peace from his aches and let him drift into unconsciousness, until he heard the wind chime stop in a more deliberate way, almost as if somebody had grabbed it.
“Touko-san?” he stirred, just barely awake. He opened his eyes enough to see a figure admiring the paper on the end of the chime.
“Hm? Oh, you’re awake,” the person responded. “Sorry, you should go back to sleep, I was just admiring your wind chime. I gave it to my daughter long ago. I can’t believe she kept it.”
Takashi tried sitting up, but ended up losing balance, and his head made a noticeable thud on his pillow. The figure turned around and rushed to his side.
“Woah, are you ok?? That must have hurt,” they said. Weird. They sounded so… familiar?
“Who are you?” Takashi croaked out, finally opening his eyes. Why was Reiko sitting beside him? He quickly sat back up and gasped, but doubled over into a coughing fit. Reiko reached her hand to his back and gently patted it, hoping to get some air into his lungs. After a minute, the fit seemed to end, with poor Takashi looking exhausted. “What are you doing here?”
Wait. Don’t you normally see the ghosts of your loved ones when you’re about to die???
“Am I gonna die? What’s going on?” Takashi’s heart was racing, and he could feel a panic attack arising as his breathing became shallower and shallower. Reiko hushed him and helped him breathe again.
“I promise you’re not dying. At least, I don’t think you are?” she said, definitely not helping Takashi’s anxiety. She placed her hand on his cheek, her icy palm felt so soothing as he melted into her touch. “But that’s one hell of a fever you’re running. You’ve always been such a fragile kid, huh.”
“How did you… know that?” Takashi asked.
“Did you really not think I’d be watching over you this entire time?” Reiko said, her snarky tone that was on full display during the flashbacks of her every time Takashi returned a name shining so brightly. What was she talking about?
“Why have I never seen you until now though?” Takashi asked.
“Well humans and yokai are completely different. You don’t normally see ghosts of humans do you?” she asked. Takashi shook his head. “Well there’s your answer. And I think that fever you’ve got there is making you a bit delirious.”
“So, is this a dream?” Takashi said with a hint of somber behind his congestion.
“I dunno,” Reiko bluntly replied. The wind chime’s music picked up again, and the two of them looked towards it. Reiko had a very soft smile. “That’s such a pretty sound, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Takashi said quietly. This was all so strange. There are so many questions he wants to ask her. All these thoughts and feelings started overflowing and he began to cry. Reiko looked back to him when she heard sniffling. She reached out to try to wipe his tears, but Takashi flinched back on impulse. She pulled her hand back with a sad smile, and what he had done suddenly hit Takashi.
“I’m sorry, I just-” his voice was shaking.
“Don’t be sorry,” Reiko cut him off. “I get this is scary for you. I promise I’m not going to hurt you. Grandmotherly instincts kicked in, I guess. Ugh, it feels so weird to say I’m a grandmother,” she said with a chuckle.
Takashi just stared, trying to steady his breathing so he would stop crying. This couldn’t be real, right? But her touch had felt so genuine, nothing else in the room had changed. Maybe this was like when the Day’s Eater transformed him into a child. Sure, that has to be it, just some weird yokai nonsense.
“I have to say, it’s a little funny seeing you cooped up in bed all the time,” Reiko finally broke the silence. “I almost never got sick. You take after your dad in that part. I watched Ichika take care of that wimp so many times. She was much better at aiding people than I was.”
“What was she like?” Takashi asked. Reiko took a minute to recount her memories of her daughter, both in her life and her death.
“She was so timid. She always stepped so carefully, she would always hold my hand as we walked and if I let go for even a moment to tie my shoe she’d start to cry. We were polar opposites. But I’d gladly hold her hand until the end of time if I was given the chance. She loved being with me, and if you ever got the privilege to get closer to her, she would never leave you either. I was so happy when she met your dad. Her ability to love so effortlessly was so admirable, and I have never felt love like she did until I had her. And even then she was the only one I had loved like that.”
“How old was she when you died?” As soon as those words left his mouth, Takashi regretted it. But this was his moment to finally get questions answered, and he couldn’t take it back now.
“She was 8,” Reiko’s breath began to shake as she recounted the memory. “Her classmate’s mother took her in. The mom never really liked me. Can’t say I blame her. But she gave Ichika a better life than I could, so I’m eternally grateful.”
That can’t be true, Takashi thought. Recounting his own trauma from losing his parents, he could say without a doubt that he would have rather had his biological mother and father by his side the entire time. That sentiment might have been different if the Fujiwaras took him in from the very start, but at least they were the light at the end of that incredibly dark tunnel.
“Could she see youkai too?”
“I don’t think so. I think it skips a generation. So my grandfather, your great great grandfather, could see them. My dad couldn’t. Then I could, and your mom couldn’t, and now you’re stuck with this curse.” Reiko looked at him with a guilty look on her face.
“I wouldn’t call it a curse,” he said frankly. “I mean, yeah, growing up was hard. Not knowing why they were tormenting me and the fact that nobody else could see them made things worse. But now that I’ve gotten to know a lot of them, there are so many that are so important to me. And now I can’t imagine life without them beside me.”
Reiko smiled. She held her hand out, this time letting Takashi decide whether or not she was allowed to touch him. He smiled back, and she tousled his hair. Her hands were still freezing, but he could feel the warmth and love that came with them. His eyes began to flutter, as his anxiety disappeared and his fatigue began taking over.
“Could I ask one more thing?” he said.
“You can ask a hundred more things,” she replied.
Takashi took a deep breath in. “Would you create the Book of Friends again? Because if you’ve been watching over me this whole time, surely you would have seen how the youkai feel about it, right?”
Reiko pondered for a moment. “Yeah, it’s unforgivable to have had to unload that massive burden on you. And for that reason alone, I wouldn’t do it again. But, I never had friends growing up. Any I did have, would stop talking to me almost immediately after they realized something was wrong with me.”
Takashi knew exactly how that felt.
“And how the Book of Friends was created, was what I thought friends were. Watching over Ichika, and then her and Hiroshi, and then you, made me realize that friendship was so much more than what I had experienced in my life. I never wanted to control the youkai. I just wanted to know I had something to call a friend.” Tears silently fell into her lap.
It all clicked. He had a hunch that there was far more to Reiko than what the youkai had told him. In his flashbacks, she’s never vicious. Sure she’d fight, but how could she not with all the monsters she’d come across. She, like him, was lonely. And she never got to experience the joy of true friendship like he had with humans or youkai.
This time, Takashi wiped away her tears. Her skin was so soft. Though she was a ghost, or a hallucination, her skin felt so real. She swatted his hand away and laughed.
“That’s what I’m supposed to do, ya dummy.” They chuckled together until Takashi started coughing again. “I should let you get some sleep,” she said. “I don’t want that fever of yours getting worse.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” he wheezed. Reiko grabbed his hand and helped him lie back down.
“Am I ever truly gone?” she said. “I’ll still be watching over you. Wherever you are, whatever youkai comes your way, whenever that tubby bean bun over there ditches you to get drunk.”
Takashi chuckled as tears welled in his eyes.
“I’m so proud of you, sweet boy. And I wish I could have known you and loved you when I was alive,” she said, those being the last words Takashi heard as his sleepiness finally pulled him under. He woke up again almost immediately to a wet cloth being placed on his forehead. It was comfortably chilly, and he shivered. He opened his eyes to see his foster mom in place of Reiko.
“Oh Takashi, are you ok? You’re tearing up,” Touko pointed out as she wiped his tear stained cheeks with a tissue.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, I think I’m ok,” Takashi mumbled. He sat up, took a tissue, and tried to blow his nose to help with the congestion brought on by his crying, but to no avail. He sighed and looked up towards the window. “I just had a really nice dream.”
The wind chime played its melody once again.