As the bullet train hummed its way through Kyushu’s countryside, I turned my phone on for the first time in weeks.

  I was immediately bombarded with LINE notifications. Worried friends and family asked if I was okay, if I’d seen the news about the murder at my school, and if I needed anything. The exact kind of empty platitudes that everyone gets when a tragedy occurs.

  I replied to none of them, instead opening a news app and scrolling to see what I’d missed.

  There were, of course, still articles about Hanako. She was the daughter of an influential CEO, and Eisai Academy was one of the most elite high schools in Japan after all. Go figure, it’d be headline news for weeks on end.

  I scrolled past the headline: Detectives yet to find suspects in Mashimoto Technologies princess murder.

  So that’s the name of her father’s company, huh? Mashimoto Technologies.

  Another headline read: Elite school community comes together to mourn loss of murdered talent Hanako Mashimoto.

  I scoffed to myself.

  Mourn? What a load of crap. The snobs only took it as an opportunity to gossip about who they thought the murderer was.

  I scrolled for a bit longer, but the headlines only made me feel worse, so I turned the phone off again and stared out the window.

  The distant scenery sped by in a blur as we raced the rising sun. The green of the trees and the water’s blue melded together with the grays of concrete and metal in a dizzying cacophony of colour.

  Before long, I heard the automated announcer calling my stop.

  I grabbed my backpack from the overhead storage and wobbled my way to the nearest exit.

  The bullet train glided to a gentle stop, and the doors hissed open. I exited behind a hunchbacked elderly woman.

  The late morning autumn air was biting. It smelled much fresher here than back in the city, and I immediately felt a sense of childhood comfort. For a second, I almost forgot about the shadow of grief that followed my every step. Almost.

  It was quiet too, with not many people around. The town where my grandmother lived and Koyuri was raised was small even compared to other country towns in Kyushu. The fact that it was on a bullet train line at all was a small miracle in itself.

  A half-asleep station attendant waved me through after I showed him my ticket, and I stepped out into a moderately busy shopping strip. The smell of ramen and baked bread wafted past my nostrils. My stomach rumbled in resentment.

  I did skip breakfast, so a bowl of ramen wouldn’t hurt. After that, I’d go straight to my grandmother’s house and go back to sleep.

  There was a place in Fukuoka where Hanako and I went to eat ramen most days after school. Well… I guess it’s past tense now. Like so many things in my life.

  The small ramen shop only had a few customers at this time of day. Though it was Sunday, a salaryman in a suit sat hunched over a bowl of spicy ramen. And in the back corner, a boy with a dark-coloured hoodie pulled over his head sat slurping away.

  It isn’t that cold.

  I took a seat at one of the booths meant for people eating alone.

  “Welcome. What would you like?” a waiter asked.

  “One spicy ramen, please,” I said quietly, trying not to disturb the other customers.

  The waiter nodded and told me to pay at the end.

  A bowl of steaming ramen was plonked down in front of me a few minutes later. Streaks of red sauce swam in the murky broth. I cracked apart a pair of disposable chopsticks and dug in.

  It was delicious. Even Hanako—who hated spicy things—would have said so.

  I pictured the cute face she would make after trying the spicy broth, and a smile began to form at the corners of my mouth. It vanished just as quickly as I remembered that I’d never seen that scrunched-up face again.

  I was about halfway through my meal when I noticed the hooded boy in the back slowly making his way toward the restaurant’s entrance. The waiter’s back was turned as they chatted to one of the cooks. The hooded boy was staring intently at them as they slinked past my seat. With his attention all on the waiter, it seemed the boy hadn’t noticed me.

  A dine and dasher?

  I’d seen a few in Fukuoka, but never in a small town like this. Usually, crimes like that would mean social suicide in close-knit communities; it just wasn’t worth the risk.

  I was just about to speak up when the waiter suddenly turned and spotted the would-be ramen thief just as they reached the door.

  “Excuse me, you haven’t pai—hey, stop!”

  Before the waiter could finish their sentence, the hooded boy darted away at full pelt.

  Without a second thought, I shouldered my bag, slammed a ￥1000 bill onto the counter—enough for several bowls of ramen—and gave chase.

  By the time I made it out of the restaurant, I could just make out a small figure disappearing down a side street.

  I sprinted in that direction as fast as my feet could carry me. The wind rushed past my ears as startled pedestrians leaped out of my way. I heard the shouts of the waiter behind me, but I didn’t turn around. In my gut, I knew I had to catch this person.

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  When I rounded the corner onto the side street, I just barely caught a glimpse of someone darting down an alleyway between a butcher and an electronics shop.

  I dashed to the mouth of the alleyway and stopped short. It was narrow and dark, and I couldn’t see all the way to its end. I had no idea what I was walking into and who might be waiting for me.

  I glanced back the way I’d come. I knew there was a police station somewhere in that direction. Maybe I should just report it and leave the ramen shop and the cops to sort it out.

  What did it have to do with me anyway?

  But if I wasted time doing that, the ramen thief would escape.

  I’m too deep into it now.

  I took a hesitant step into the alleyway. I’d made it maybe a few metres, and my eyes were just adjusting to the dim light when something came dashing toward me.

  I tried to back up but—

  Thud.

  —Something connected with my stomach. Pain shot through my abdomen, and I let out a wheezing groan.

  My attacker tried to use that moment to squeeze past me, but I wasn’t having it. Annoyed and winded, I grabbed the smaller figure's arm and held tight.

  I heard a feminine voice protesting as they struggled to get their arm free from my iron grip.

  “L-let me go, I’m warning you!”

  The voice sounded strangely familiar.

  My eyes had adjusted to the low light now, so I grabbed the struggling thief’s other arm and took a closer look at them.

  The stained black hoodie was still pulled tightly over their head. It was clearly two or three sizes too big for them, and I’d initially mistaken them for a boy. Now that I was up close, I could see they were obviously a girl.

  I peered into the girl’s hood. I could make out her short reddish hair and large, brown eyes. Wait… that pale, round face looked familiar… and those eyes.

  Surely not.

  “...Ha-Hanako?”

  In a moment of shock, I loosened my grip just enough for the girl to pull free.

  She was upon me in a flash, her arms wrapped about my waist, and she buried her head in my chest. She squeezed tight, and I could hear sobs escaping from beneath her hood.

  This is a dream. It has to be. Hanako is dead. I saw her lifeless body. Attended her funeral. Visited her grave half a dozen times.

  “What… what…?”

  I couldn’t form a sentence to save my life.

  My thoughts raced like white water rapids.

  The girl—whoever she was—continued to sob, her slim shoulders shaking. She squeezed me tighter until I could barely breathe.

  “I… You… I’ve been so lonely… B-but I couldn’t tell anyone… especially you…”

  I could barely make out what she was saying between her wracking sobs. Especially me…?

  This girl smelled like Hanako. Sounded like Hanako. Was the same height and had the same face as Hanako. But… How could that be?

  I SAW her! I saw her dead body with my own eyes!

  “How…?”

  She took several long, shaking breaths before responding.

  “It… It’s a long story, but that girl who died wasn’t me. I don’t know who it was, but all I know is I woke up in a locked room in a house near here.”

  She took a few more shuddering breaths.

  “I escaped a few days ago, and I’ve been on the run ever since. I’ve been so scared and… a-and…”

  That’s as far as she got before the waterworks started again.

  Only then did it finally sink in that this was the real Hanako.

  My own tears began to flow then. Two weeks' worth of pent-up grief, guilt, and soul-crushing despair. Yet, I hadn’t shed a single tear in that whole time. I simply hadn't had the energy. Now, it all came out like a flood-swollen dam finally bursting.

  I hugged her back just as tightly.

  The kind and life-loving girl I thought had been taken from me and the world forever—was alive. She’s ALIVE!

  I continued to cry for long minutes after Hanako’s own tears had stopped. She held and comforted me like a lost child, reaching up to stroke my hair and whispering that it was going to be okay.

  It was ironic that she was the one comforting me, considering what she’d likely been through in the past two weeks.

  As my tears subsided, I pulled out of the embrace and looked at her from arm’s length. I gingerly reached down and pulled her hood back. I took in her jaggedly cut red hair and the dirt on her usually immaculate porcelain face.

  Then, I placed my hands on either side of her head and did something I told myself I would do if I ever saw her again.

  I bent over, pulled her face towards mine and… kissed her. The sudden warmth of her soft lips on mine sent shivers of delight through my entire body. She stiffened for a second and—

  Whack!

  —Slapped me as hard as she could.

  I staggered back and brought a hand up to my stinging cheek.

  “W-W-What… Y-Y-You… ASSHOLE!”

  And just like that, she was running again. Sprinting down the alleyway in the direction we’d come.

  I managed to regain my wits and chased after her, eventually catching up to her on a narrow residential street a few hundred metres from the alleyway. The only other soul in sight was a tabby cleaning itself on a doorstep. It didn’t pay any attention to us.

  Hanako stood panting, her back to me. I couldn’t help but notice that her ears were bright red.

  “That… that was my first time. Why would you do that? Now of all times?”

  I decided honesty was the best policy at that moment.

  “Hanako, I thought you were dead. I’ve been thinking a lot about the things I should have done, the things I should have said. I don’t want to have any regrets anymore.”

  She turned to face me. There was still a glint of anger in her big eyes, and the redness of embarrassment on her cheeks, but she seemed less furious than before.

  She studied my face for a few seconds before letting out a sigh.

  She started punching my chest with limp fists. The soft tap-tap-tap felt comforting and familiar.

  “I get it, but I’m dirty, and my breath stinks… and… this…” she trailed off as she fingered the poorly cut ends of her hair.

  I shrugged.

  “You’re still beautiful.”

  She shrieked like a stepped-on cat and whirled away from me again. The tabby that’d been busy licking itself hissed and ran off.

  I could just make out what Hanako was muttering under her breath.

  “When did you, of all people, suddenly get so smooth?”

  “What was that?” I asked teasingly.

  “Nothing!” she snapped, stalking off down the street.

  “Let’s talk at your grandma’s house.”

  “How do you know where my grandma lives?”

  “I… I… never mind that! Just come.”

  I followed after her obediently.

  For the first time in two long weeks, I had a spring in my step.