Chapter 1
It was my eighteenth birthday when I left Japan for the very first time, never to return for another forty-five years. My mother was so happy but yet so worried. I remember her sitting me down outside on our wooden porch—it was always beautiful, especially in the spring when the cherry blossoms would bloom.
She looked me dead in the eyes with watery eyes.
She placed her hand on my left cheek and said, "Go forth, little Naomi. But remember, don't forget to write, and you can always come home if it gets too hard over in America."
I remember giving her a hug so tight.
"I love you, Mother," I said as I got up from that porch for the final time.
My twin brother, Fuji, whom I adored so much, really wanted to come with me. But because of our dear father's death, he was the only son and the only man in our family able to keep the family farm going.
His jealousy of my great opportunity caused him to develop a great hatred toward me. He wouldn't even wish me goodbye. I tried so hard to hug him, but he pushed me away and cursed my name, even shouting so angrily about how I was abandoning them all.
I wept so hard leaving that day, never to hear from him again.
We weren't always so confrontational. I used to love my little brother—well, I'm fifteen minutes older than he is, so I always loved to tease him, and the funny part was, it used to annoy him so much.
Our favorite game was hide and seek. I was always better than he was—I could hide for hours on our land, and my brother would never find me.
One time, when I was walking home, an older, larger boy started picking on me and calling me names—the most hurtful things.
Just when I was about to start crying, Fuji jumped out from a small bush, blocking the older boy from me.
He was also a lot smaller than the other boy, but he stood firm as the bully towered over him.
He fought hard and managed to fight the boy off with only a few scratches to his face.
My biggest regret was leaving the way I did.
I constantly wrote letters over the years back home. I heard from Mother but never from Fuji.
The pain of that man's jealousy hurt me so badly—a sibling bond destroyed over his hatred for more.
I was so happy with my life in America—married with three children, a beautiful big house.
Until the dreams started.
Every night in my dreams, I saw my brother calling me, his left hand reaching out to me to come home.
My old home was always burning—the cherry blossoms gone, and all the land reduced to ashes.
Another dream was of a cold, stormy night. It was always the same. I was looking out my bedroom window, the thunder and lightning shooting large flashes of light across the night sky.
But every time I looked into the distance past my house, I saw Fuji, soaking wet from the night's rain, again his left arm reaching out, calling me to come home. So serious, and he had clearly aged badly since I last saw him as a young man.
I started to see my brother everywhere—at home, at work, everywhere. Always in the distance, his arm always reaching out, calling me.
I always called to him. I even ran to him, but his image always disappeared into nothing.
I even sought the help of a professional, but they told me I was imagining things. I used to scream at them, saying I needed help. My husband held me down one time to calm me. I even hit him across the face.
I lost my husband to my imagination. He left me after all of this.
I couldn't bear the pain anymore.
I had to go home.
For twenty years, these dreams haunted me every night. I didn't care what he thought—I was going to see him.
I wished my children well. They were adults, but a mother will always see her children as little ones. A goodbye and a promise that I would be back.
I remember looking at this great big plane. It had been so long since I traveled, and it had changed so much.
Walking through the rows of seats—so many people. I couldn't imagine doing this all the time. Back when I came here, it was so different.
People are so much ruder and not as considerate to their elders.
Gripping the seat so tightly as the plane took off from the ground, I was really scared. Chills ran through my body.
Everything was all calm. The relaxed atmosphere—it was actually really nice in the sky.
Peaceful, really.
And then it got dark really fast. The plane began shaking. It was so loud, and the lightning flashed across the sky. The plane was going down. I saw the waves of the Pacific out the small window. This was my end. I got out my rosary beads and began to pray.
Closing my eyes and praying helped me through that experience. As soon as I opened my eyes, the sky and the motions of the plane all seemed so calm. It was over.
"Thank you, God," I cried out to the people in the cabin. "We are all safe."
Everyone looked so happy—apart from a young girl. She looked really ill. The turbulence had really affected her. Luckily, there was this lovely doctor on board.
I clapped so hard when that plane landed. I was finally home. After all this time, I rushed off that plane.
Coming out of the airport, I saw so many buildings. They all looked so different since I last saw them. This wasn't the same Japan I left all those years ago.
It had grown so much.
Just as I was taking in all the sights, a large black executive car pulled right up in front of me.
Shocked by such a vehicle, I couldn't help but wonder—was this for me?
The window rolled down.
An older man looked out and spoke so calmly.
"Hello, Naomi. It's been a long time. Welcome home."
It was him. My brother, Fuji. He was so old and frail.
"My brother... is it really you?"
Fuji looked at me without much emotion.
"Come on, get in the car," he said calmly.
Excited by the sight of my little brother, I eagerly got in the back seat and closed the door shut.
And the car drove off, leaving the big city buildings and heading into the countryside toward my home village. It had been so long since I had seen the cherry blossoms in bloom. They were so beautiful. I couldn't wait to see the old house. I knew Mother wouldn't be there, but all those memories and moments in my head—I wanted to relive them.
Fuji didn't say much on the drive. I thought maybe he didn't know what to say after all these years. I was happy to let him stay silent. I couldn't be happier that we were together again.
The beautiful countryside suddenly became grey and dark. The creepy atmosphere felt uneasy as we approached a graveyard. I didn't remember ever being here.
But Fuji stopped the car outside the great big gates. It had a middle path.
"Why have we stopped?" I asked him. "This isn't home, is it?"
Fuji turned around and looked at me. He whispered in a calm voice,
"My sister, go into the cemetery. I need you to see something before we go home. I won't be long. I'll be with you soon."
As I got out of the car, it was very cold—colder than normal for spring.
The gate was already wide open, and the grey skies filled the cemetery, leaving a dark, eerie feeling. As I walked through the path in the middle of the grounds, it began to rain heavily. I kept walking until I saw two old graves that caught my eye.
I stopped and eagerly took a look. I leaned down, and to my shock, I felt my legs tremble with fear.
The graves, so old and clearly there for a long time, only said:
Here lies Fuji and Naomi.
No, it can't be. It's not. How could it be? I'm still here. My brother is still here. No, please, no!
I managed to get myself together and stand up again.
I felt a presence come closer to me—the hand of the mystery figure touching my left shoulder.
"Who are you?" Naomi asked in the calmest way possible. "You're clearly not my brother."
The man leaned into her, placing his lips close to her ear—enough to make her feel so cold, chills flowing through her. He whispered only one word.
"Shinigami."
