The trundling of a train roared beside power lines, passing posts. The Sun beat upon asphalt road, setting a lake on white fire. The distant clouds rose from the horizon in a billowing column that filled up more sky space the higher they rose. The titular character watched, from the determined coolness of a train car's AC. Shadows and sunlight flickered, each in turn, over her, over the empty seats, the impeccably clean floor. A book was in her hand, though her eyes were glazed over, clearly not absorbing its contents.
The car was empty; she dropped her façade and placed the book to her lap.
The only other passenger in the car gave pause. Their eyes met, in an instant. He nodded, paused. Then walked over. She observed him, unmoving from her seat. Clad in a business suit, he was clearly a salaryman. She did know him from work, though mostly looked at him from afar, or in peripheral vision, seeing his back turned, where he busied at conversation. That form was etched in her mind, the slim build of a man with bum-fitting pants, a cigarette usually clasped between his fingers.
She spoke first. "Certified Public Accountant, Tsukihiko Reimu-san."
His face lit, lips breaking into a smile of crooked, unfixed, teeth. "Ah, you know me?" He almost wobbled where he stood, a hand grasping the top ring of the ceiling for support, the other hand grasping his briefcase. The next moment saw him taking the empty seat beside her.
"From afar, yes," she thumbed the spine of her book, bowing slightly. "We were at the dinner last night."
"Oh, yes. Yakuza-san was funny. He saw where your eyes went, and then lifted his hand. And! He has all his fingers. What a bad liar!"
"Yes, yes," flowed the ingrained agreeableness. Her black eyes glittered, her lips creased into a smile.
"How is the book?" he indicated the tome on her lap.
She shook her head helplessly. "A monk friend recommended it. Alas, it is full of difficult words. A hard book to finish. But, I try."
"You can do it."
A tranquil silence floated forth. The man bit his lips. A ball of nerves, she saw; he was getting to the point, rare for one without the egging of rice wine. One thing would have prompted such haste. Curiosity, and ...
"Ja, I heard about the transfer ..."
The old roundabout manner of speech. She sighed. A non-conformance that typically never gets unleashed if time and answers had not pressed, as it did now with her leaving and her stop approaching. "You have all heard the rumours." Her voice was cold, then in a softened tone, she explained. "We met at the company party."
"Met? But ..."
"Oh, I wasn't sleeping with my boss, but his wife."
His mouth was a perfect 'O'. The speakers announced her stop. She straightened her pencil skirt, stowed the book, and stood. Her chin tilted languidly as she turned back to him. "You are welcome to have tea at my place, now, if you like. I hardly think the naughty urge to pry is quite satisfied." A sheepish expression splayed on his face. His hands pressed his spread lap. And got up.
***
Her place faced the lake. Her windows opened up to it, so it resembled a blinding white painting. Her silhouette stood with hands on the sill. Tranquil, he noted from the sofa. Yet, he looked to the packed boxes in the shadows around her apartment – yet transient.
She would miss this painting. This, and another image created. One that persisted months. That of boss' wife's face locked in ecstasy, against the backdrop of her sheets. "Divorce rates are up in the country," her face remained languid, staring the ocean. "But I detest being a mere statistic. My life is my own. And I refuse to live forever in fear of consequences. I don't even regret the strain between the couple I have caused."
The man wore a frown. Others' life choices were never his to direct. The crime was not his. A crime?
"That is your angle, Lenne-chan. I do not judge." He joined her at the window, forming a second silhouette. What drove her? "I seek to understand." The coffee was in his hand. He took a sip.
"World-weariness," she replied with a broken smile. "We are driftwood on a river, floating by. Life happens to us. Same situations, seen so many times before. We wonder if there, is a 'point', or is this all for nothing? The heartaches repeat, never seeming to teach anymore, but merely exist by the whims of a sadistic Spirit. The repeated lashings of a whip. In the end, we are all broken."
She turned to him, looking the man squarely in the eyes. Unused to eye contact, he nonetheless held her gaze. His eyes, she saw, large as plates like a deer in headlights, scrutable in its surprise, though she fancied, a hint of sorrow. "Sin, and suffer. Live blamelessly, and suffer anyway." His breath hitched as she drew nearer. "What will you choose?" Was this ... a preposition?
Her laughter was ringing as she released him. "Only joking."
Rattled, he fumbled. What an unnerving woman. A cup rose near his lips, and he made to take a sip. The sea burned in vision. Fear? Fear of what? He was a salaryman who had followed the rules all his life. What good had it served him? What, indeed, was the point? Perhaps a kick out of the house of a woman whose days in this district was numbered. He was playing it safe, and it shamed him. Time to process it later, but now, he wrapped his arms around her. His hands rubbed, slipping under the blouse. He soaked in her brokenness, her silent tears, her resentment.
She was not in the mood, though hung limply.
He left her on the bed. He did not promise a follow-up, though he was fully invested in the next meeting. It would be pointless, and unrequited.
***
He met her at the office, approaching the woman as she packed her boxes.
"A parting gift. Careful. It is fragile," He presented a small nondescript white box. "Open it."
Behold, a ceramic bowl. It was whole but cracked. Inlaid in those cracks were rivers of gold, filling up wherever the cracks were, running on the grey surface like golden rivers.
"Kinstugi. When we are broken, shattered, damaged or doomed now, it is not over. There's a fix that will make us stronger, braver, and more beautiful than ever before. We need to work on fixing rather than giving up."
