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They come in snitches and snatches at first.
A lit paper lantern, glowing red in the dark. Frosted glass windows like kaleidoscopes. The smell of incense, thick and heady. A booming gong. The rusty glint of bronze. The soft pattering of bare feet on ceramic tiles. A sharp clap, ringing in his head.
Then they become longer, drawn out. Sandy blond hair, with eyes and a smile like déjà vu. Spoken words like a whispered breeze, a prayer. The rustle of paper against a ghostly wind. “Be free.”
A presence, and then gone.
The Yu Garden is lively at night.
As Touko and Shigeru are swept along the bustling crowds toward the main courtyards and marketplaces, Nyanko-sensei leaps into the backlit alleys, and Natsume stumbles out of the sticky, hot river to follow, yelling out a breathless, “Wait, Nyanko-sensei! Don’t go off by yourself!”
Amongst the inseparable chatter, he can hear the latest Zhou Jielun song booming from speakers far off. As he hurries to catch up to Nyanko-sensei, he catches the soft static of a decade-old radio, Deng Lijun sweetly singing into the stale air.
Nyanko-sensei stops. “There are some odd presences around here,” he says.
Natsume skids to a stop, coughing. He discreetly bats away the smell of cigarette smoke, delivered by a gentle breeze. He asks, “Are they strong?”
“Very,” Nyanko-sensei replies grimly. “Get away, Natsume, I’ll handle this.”
Natsume knows he senses it the same time as Nyanko-sensei does. Both presences fade away, all at once and then nothing at all, like the loss of something so powerful all that’s left is a gaping black hole. Then there are the things that follow, in no particular order: the smell of Nanatsujiya’s manjuu, the echo of Reiko’s name, and the feeling of home.
The Jade Buddha is absolutely stunning. Yong shi fo guang—Buddha’s teachings are transcendence. The room is silent except for the soft chants of amitabha echoing throughout. The ceilings are embellished with miniature Buddha statues of gold. An abundance of joss sticks and offerings sit on the altar. The knee stools are a distance away, lined with soft red silk. Incense wafts throughout the room, not too overbearing. A caretaker quietly offers his prayers, then slips out the back door.
The atmosphere of the room is calming, and it helps Natsume quell his unease. The Jade Buddha, not tall or big but dignified all the same, makes him feel small, and loved, and he is comforted by the thought. He is inexplicably reminded of sunlit evenings by the river near the Fujiwaras’ house, walking behind a figure he can’t seem to recall, the set of this man’s shoulders strong but unimposing.
Touko-san and Shigeru-san would love to see this, he thinks, and makes his way out the corridor, past two men—both blond, one wearing glasses—walking side by side, unusually close, in the crisp winter air.
They decide to take a joyride across the Bund Tunnel.
They purchase their tickets and cross the turnstile, Nyanko-sensei off wandering by himself. Natsume wins a hairclip from a Gacha machine for Touko, and she pins it to her hair, delighted. Touko buys a silk shawl, as a souvenir.
They step into the cabin, and start their journey. The lighting displays are comparable to a B-grade sci-fi movie, but there is something mysterious, something magical about them nonetheless, and Natsume soaks in the otherworldly ambience.
He turns to his right, and starts. Touko is not there.
He glances around the cabin. The other passengers have seemingly changed, shadowy figures staring into blinding neon. He looks back out the glass panels. His eyes start to tear, and he squeezes them shut. The sensation of falling, and the feeling of being caught. These hands are familiar—intimately so—and foreign at the same time. Older, wiser.
You will be happy.
A whisper, and then gone.
When Natsume opens his eyes, it’s to the sight of Nyanko-sensei’s face, and Touko, hovering worriedly in his periphery. He can see the lights from the Bund in the distance, electrifying and dizzying.
“Natsume-kun!” she admonishes. He wants to reach out and smooth away the creases between her eyebrows. “Are you all right? Don’t go falling asleep like that all of a sudden, you gave me a fright!”
“That’s right,” Shigeru adds. “You should have told us if you were tired. Come on, let’s catch a taxi back to the hotel now.”
Natsume smiles, apologetic but grateful, and slowly rises to his feet.
“Thank you.”