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Three days after Eugene died, he knew he was fading.
Details of his life-before-death started slipping away, running through his fingers like water. He had spent too many years teaching spirits to move on. But the problem was this: he was fading, but not moving on.
He needed to get away from the lake; it was suffocating him in so many ways. He hated how there was no movement, just stagnation.
But every time he wandered, he ended up standing at the water’s edge again, having forgotten what he was going to do.
It would have been nice if he could muster the strength to materialize, so someone living could nudge him in the right direction. He couldn’t see the light, which left a hollow feeling in the depths of his soul. Wasn’t there the belief a twin couldn’t move on while the other was still living?
Why could he remember that?
Did he have a twin?
…
Weeks passed, and he started being able to escape the lake by walking the astral planes. He decided it was where he belonged as a ghost, anyway.
But if he could have materialized, he might have enjoyed himself more. He felt he would be a rather entertaining poltergeist, though he didn’t remember why. It was unfortunate, but he had the feeling that no matter how strong he was, he would never be able to touch the physical realm again. He belonged in the world of dreams, and it was where he was forced to wander.
But by now, he didn’t know what he was looking for.
Was someone looking for him?
…
The sakura trees were blooming. He knew time had passed, but was it only this spring, or next year’s spring?
When he reached to touch the blooms, it wasn’t that his hand went through the flowers. It was as if his hand did not even exist.
He didn’t remember what his hand should look like. He didn’t remember what he should look like.
Who was he?
There was a dull sensation that allowing himself to be so far gone was an embarrassment to who he was. Who he had been.
…
One afternoon, he found himself listening to the melodic voices of a cluster of high-school girls. The room was dark, and each girl held a penlight. They were speaking Japanese – why was he in Japan?
But he could understand them clearly, and it was okay, he reassured himself. He was only a year older than these girls, he wasn’t doing anything wrong.
The thought jarred him. He could remember his age.
He had heard stories of Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai, but he had never participated in one while living. Maybe it was right he would take part in one while he was dead. There certainly were not a hundred people here – just four. And him. And a few other low-level spirits who hovered around them, absorbing the energy let off as each girl finished their story and clicked off the pale blue glow of their light.
Eugene – that was his name, he could remember it now – shooed the lower spirits away. They would be dangerous if they became too strong. They left with minimal grumbles and groans.
The girls were on the last penlight, but he no longer needed light to see their faces clearly. He kneeled next to one with short brunette hair. She was listening intently to her friend speak of the old school down the way. Eugene knew it wasn’t haunted – he had drifted through it that morning. Something had drawn him there, but he hadn’t been able to figure out what.
The girl who had been speaking turned off her light. All was dark, and Eugene could suddenly feel the strength of his spirit. He felt rooted to the material world, yet still trapped in only being seen in the astral plane. But how could he be seen if he didn’t know what form he should be seen as?
“One,” the girl with pigtails said.
“Two,” whispered the second.
“Three,” the girl next to Eugene said softly.
The girl who had told the last story murmured, “Four…”
…
“Five.”
Eugene wished he had been able to speak to them, but it wasn’t the case. So why did he feel like he had?
The girls started shrieking. The light was flicked on, and Eugene saw himself.
No, his twin.
Oliver, Noll.
Eugene stood up quickly and reached out to him, his fingers passing through his twin’s shoulder. He couldn’t reach his brother mentally, either. Oliver had many skills – but being a medium wasn’t one of them. How alone Eugene actually was hit him swiftly.
Wrapping his arms around himself, Eugene stepped back as three of the girls gathered around Oliver. He wasn’t cold – he wasn’t anything – but it was the memory of comfort he clung to.
Suddenly he severely regretted allowing himself to be dragged back to reality like this. Before, there was no heartache because he could not remember it.
Eugene found himself standing next to the girl he had been sitting by before. Her eyebrows were furrowed, probably trying to decipher his brother.
Eugene wanted to tell her he had never figured out Oliver, and he had been with his brother since birth. But he wanted to wish her luck.
Eugene realized the girls and Oliver had been speaking.
The brunette said to Oliver, “What are you doing in a place like this?”
Eugene watched Oliver. Yes, what was he doing here? He couldn’t possibly be looking for Eugene.
Could he?
If it was the case, he needed to speak to his brother. He needed to contact a medium.
Another ache. Before this, he was always the medium.
There was a psychic spark in the brunette – Eugene realized her friends had called her Mai – something perhaps he could use to reconnect the mental link to his brother. She just might have the strength to be a medium one day. She just needed to be pointed in the right direction.
Maybe he shouldn’t meddle. No, Oliver would expect him to. After all, something had drawn him here. Oliver wasn’t a medium, but he must have sensed a spirit’s presence. Why else would he have stopped at this room, at this time?
Eugene remembered his image in life, pulling it close to him, locking it into place. He was the mirror of Oliver, until he softened his eyes and smiled slightly. He didn’t remember what he had died in, but the fashionable-though-dreary black Oliver was wearing would have to work.
…
Eugene bent down to Mai’s ear and breathed into it –
– Or maybe, just whispered into her mind,
“You should check out the old school tomorrow. You’ll find your answers, though it might take longer than you would expect. He doesn’t have many people skills –
– He’s just a stupid scholar, after all.”