Part IV: A Hallow

That which is discordant.

That which is hated.

That which is intolerable.

Accept these things and all others, and never know pain.

That which is harmonious.

That which is desired.

That which is permitted.

Reject these things and all others, and know nothing but pain.

One affirms, one denies.

Between two hearts lies the hollow.

Between two minds lies emptiness.

Between two souls, I reside.

4 • KINOKO NASU

A Hallow - I

“Hey, you’ve heard about the patient on the private room on the third

floor, right?”

“Oh, who hasn’t at this point? The word’s been pa.s.sed on from mouth

to mouth since yesterday, and even that poker faced neurosurgeon Dr.

Ashika had to show at least some surprise at that girl’s sudden recovery. I

couldn’t believe it myself.”

“No, no, I mean the story after that. What do you think the patient did

after she woke up from her coma? Promise me you won’t freak out or

anything, okay, but she tried to crush her own eyes!”

“Come on, that’s not true!”

“It is! Dr. Ashika’s trying his best to keep it a secret, but I heard the story

from one of his interns, so it has to be real. Apparently, she used her palm

to put pressure on her eyes in like, the three seconds that Dr. Ashika wasn’t

looking. What a horror show.”

“But with that girl in a coma for two years, she really shouldn’t be able

to move, right?”

“Yeah, but we basically exercised her limbs everyday to prevent the

disuse atrophy. Her family even paid the hospital a mountain of cash just

to make sure we do it. Still, it obviously can’t completely stop it, and her

body still has trouble moving. Probably why her attempt to destroy her

eyes failed.”

“Still, it’s a rarity for a person in bed rest for two years to even move, let

alone poke out her own eyes.”

“That’s why Dr. Ashika was surprised. Wait a minute; what do you call it

when the blood vessels in the eye bleed?”

“Subconjunctival hemorrhage, was it? Don’t tell me the girl got that

too?”

“You know it. It’s really supposed to heal by itself, but since the ocular

trauma was so hard, she’s temporarily blind on top of that. The intern told

me that the patient just wanted her eyes bandaged, so that’s what they

did.”

“What a shame. Even now that she’s awake she still can’t see anything.

Makes my heart tighten a little.”

“It does, doesn’t it? And there’s still the question of her aphasia. Seems

she still can’t speak, the poor thing. And since Dr. Alaya left last month

we haven’t had a therapist to handle her. But I hear Dr. Ashika’s calling

in someone he knows. Until she’s regained some of her mental faculties

/ A HALLOW - I • 5

we’re keeping her on a strict ‘no visitors’ policy. Even the parents are only

getting a little time to spend with her.”

“I see. That’s too bad for our little boy.”

“What? Which little boy?”

“Oh, you don’t know! There’s this little kid, right? Well, I guess we

can’t really call him a kid anymore, with his age and all. He’s the one who

brought that girl over here in the first place, and he still comes to visit every

Sat.u.r.day. I’m really rooting for him to meet her again.”

“Oh, you mean that kid. The one everyone was giving nicknames to. I

never realized he was still coming. Hard to find that level of sincerity these

days, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, he’s the only one that’s been coming to visit her these past two

years. He even beat out her parents. Even I’m inclined to believe that part

of that girl’s miraculous recovery is because of him.”

“I never thought you were that sentimental.”

“That’s alright. Neither did I.”

6 • KINOKO NASU

/ 1

Beyond and below lay only darkness. This void, lifeless place could only

mean one thing: I was dead.

Without anything to even clothe me, I, Shiki Ryōgi, floated, and then

sank slowly into the fathomless, lightless sea. There was no end in sight.

There was nothing in sight, neither light, and yes, perhaps even darkness.

This place was only a hollow, where all meaning ceased to be. A stygian

abyss that could not be put into words, and without words it shall remain:

a cypher called, simply, “ ”.

I fell deeper into the “ ”, and my naked body slowly acquired the pallor

of the grave, and it made me want to look away. In my mind, I knew that

everything in this place comes to be the same way.

“Is this death?” I whispered, though it came out so faint, I doubted if it

was even real.

Though time too had no meaning inside “ ”, I observed it. Like a stream

tracing out into the infinite, like the process of decay, I mark it. It was an

eternity. I plunged ever deeper, and cast my eyes farther, and in that eternity,

this place was still empty, devoid of anything except me. And yet, it

was all so calm and serene. It feels as if, in this place without meaning, the

fact that I existed at all fits me. Here lay entropy, the end of all things, a

place the living may never observe, but only the dead may enter.

I died. And yet I am still alive. I felt my mind about to lose its grip.

Two years. An instant, stretched out to an eternity. Both are accurate

measures of my time spent in this “ ”. Here, I touched death. Here, I fought

for my life. Here, I awakened.

The light breeze through the window and the sound of boisterous activity

outside my room stirs my mind to wake. I can hear nurses and patients

alike scurrying in the corridor outside. The sound of their footsteps and

the soft whispers of their conversations build to a low background hum,

always present at a hospital in the early morning hours. Compared to how

silent last night was, this sounded like some sort of convention, and a noisy

one, as far as I was concerned. I liked my waking hours silent. Thankfully,

in the secluded s.p.a.ce of my private room, I’m sheltered from the worst of

the noise.

It didn’t take long for a doctor to arrive and check up on me.

“How are we feeling today, Miss Ryōgi?”

/ 1 • 7

Silence. It stumps him, and for a moment, we are both quiet.

“I see. At least you’ve seemed to calm down since last night. Unfortunately,

since we didn’t get the chance to do it last time, I’m going to have to explain

your situation to you. Feel free to talk if you feel something’s not right.”

I didn’t really have any interest in paying attention to him, but since it

seems like he mistook my lack of a response for consent, it looks like I don’t

really have a choice in the matter.

“Then I’ll tell you straight out: today is the fourteenth of June 1998. Two

years ago, on the fifth of March, you were involved in a traffic accident, hit

by a car in a pedestrian crossing at night. Then you were brought here, to

this hospital. Do you remember anything that I’m saying?”

Silence from me again. The last thing I can remember is someone—a

cla.s.smate, maybe?—standing stock still in the rain. As for the accident,

nothing is coming to mind.

“Oh, don’t worry if you can’t remember it. When the accident occurred,

it’s likely you noticed the car and tried to jump out of the way. That’s why

there isn’t any serious damage on your body. On the other hand, you did

receive a strong hit on your head. You were already comatose when they

brought you here, but it seems there’s no brain damage. But your mental

faculties might still be recovering from your two year coma. I can’t say for

sure if your memories will return, but it’s looking that way, since last night’s

EEG detected no abnormalities in your brain activity. Anyway, the fact that

you woke up from your coma is a miracle in itself. There’s very little possibility

of that after two years, you see.”

Even though he makes a point to emphasize the length of my coma, it

still isn’t hitting home for me. For me, yesterday is still that rainsoaked

night, followed by a vast hollow of emptiness.

“And if you’re about to ask,” the doctor continues, “your eyes are mostly

fine. It’s just a blunt injury, which rarely damages the eyes in a permanent

way. We’re lucky there wasn’t anything sharp nearby last night. Another

week or so, and we’ll be able to take off the bandages so you can finally

enjoy the nice scenery.”

I detect a tiny hint of rebuke in his words this time. I suppose he’s a bit

frustrated with my little attempt to destroy my eyes. He was pretty persistent

last night in asking me why I did it, but I couldn’t answer then as well.

They’d think I was crazy.

“You’re locked into physical therapy sessions, one in the morning, and

another in the afternoon. As for visiting hours, I’m afraid we’re restricting

it until your body and mind are back to normal: an hour a day. Bear with it

for a while. Once you’re done, you’re out of here.”

8 • KINOKO NASU

Well, that’s a mood ruiner if there ever was one. Not having the heart

to voice my cynicism so early in the morning, I instead try to test my right

hand’s responsiveness by moving it, and find that there is no change. Trying

to kickstart it into action takes me a few seconds, and I can feel the joints

and muscles straining as I make the most minute, yet painful movements.

It almost feels like it isn’t my own hand. I suppose it’s what I should expect

after two years of disuse.

“Well, that’s it for this morning. Since you’ve seemed to calm down, I

won’t have a nurse watch over you all day today. If you need anything at

all—water, a book—just press the b.u.t.ton next to your pillow. The nurse’s

station is right down the hall,” the doctor says in the gentle, practiced

words designed to put a patient at ease. Were I able to see, I’d probably

see him with a similarly rehea.r.s.ed smile, one he probably practiced in the

bathroom mirror all night. I hear him start to open the door, but stops to

say one last thing. “Oh, yes, I almost forgot. You’ll have another doctor

starting tomorrow, for your speech condition. She’s a bit closer to your age,

so try to be less…stoic…around her. From what I see, you’re going to need

the expertise.”

And so, after he left, I was alone again. I lie flat on the bed, arms over my

eyes that I myself asked to be bandaged shut.

“My name is—”, I whisper with dry lips still unused to speech, “Shiki

Ryōgi.” The same  as before? Maybe not. Maybe she was killed, in

those two years of emptiness. All of the memories of someone named

Ryōgi are all there in my head, all ready for me to draw out. But what

of it? What use are they to me, who died once and awoke? I feel so…disconnected

to my past self. There’s no mistaking I’m me, but the memories in

my head don’t feel like they are. It’s like I’m watching a biopic. Main character:

Ryōgi. Weird ghost image caught in some of the frames: me.

I bite my lips until I’m sure I’m still awake. It’s all I have to make sure I’m

still here. I’m a puzzle with a missing piece close to my chest, and the hole

makes my insides feel as hollow as a cave with wind howling through it. I’m

missing my reason for living.

“And so? What the f.u.c.k does it matter?” I mutter to myself with as much

conviction as I can muster. And once I’ve said that, I feel less troubled by

it. Strangely, this feeling of disquiet and irritation that scratches and pulls

at my chest is sort of refreshing, in its own way. There’s anxiety. There’s

pain. But those are feelings that the sixteen-year old  still held on to.

Me? I’m unimpressed. I don’t know why I’m still alive but I have no inten-

/ 1 • 9

tion of looking a gift horse in the mouth. Not like I feel alive in the first

place anyway. I’m just here, now; nursing an existence of being adrift on

the wind.

10 • KINOKO NASU

/ 2

Morning turns to night turns to morning again, and a new day comes,

whether or not I can see the sunlight. I am strangely relieved that even

without sight, I can feel the slow rise of morning. However, the reason

for this relief remains a mystery, since the nurse that took my morning

examination came and interrupted my thoughts. Before I knew it, she had

finished, and left me alone again, but that wasn’t the end of my day.

My mother and brother came to talk. They felt like strangers, and I

couldn’t come to grips with the reality that they were my relatives. Left

with no alternative, I managed to mumble little words to them, in the

manner that my memories told me  would. It made my mother happy

at least, and my brother seemed pleased. It all had the air of some comical

farce, and we all played our parts to the letter.

Sometime past noon, I hear the door opening and a person step inside

my room. As soon as I hear the clicking heels, I immediately know that it

isn’t anyone familiar. I remember that I was going to get a new doctor starting

today, but before I could ask, the newcomer starts to speak.

“Hel—lo! Doing fine today?” says the newcomer, drawing out her h.e.l.lo

in an attempt at familiarity. A woman, judging from her voice. “Well, I must

say, I expected someone that looked more ghastly, but look at you! Your

skin is quite pretty. You’re just the kind of girl I can talk to, I think. Now

aren’t I lucky?” Her voice is young, maybe somewhere in her 20’s, and has

the kind of lilting, up-and-down quality of someone who is too cheerful for

her own good. I hear her make her way to the chair beside my bed and sit

herself down.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” she continues. “I’m not a doctor

from here so I don’t come with an ID. Still, with your eyes covered and all,

I don’t think it’ll be much of a problem. I’m a speech therapist. You know,

for your aphasia and—”

“Aphasia? Who, me? I’m sorry; you must have me confused with someone

else.” And so I finally speak. She seems like a person worth messing

with, so I cut her off mid sentence. It doesn’t seem to faze her however,

since she responds with an “Mmhmm”, with what must have been an

accompanying nod of the head.

“Now, normally I’d be angry, but since I already know that your aphasia

is a misdiagnosis, I’ll let it slide. That Ashika is such a by-the-books doctor;

/ 2 • 11

he can’t handle special cases like yours. But hey, it’s not like you can’t

share the blame for that. Obviously you’re going to raise some suspicion if

you keep your mouth shut like you’ve been doing.” She makes a friendly,

amused chuckle. For some reason, I’m imagining her wearing gla.s.ses. She

just seems like the type.

“So they think I have aphasia?”

“Yep. After all, you did hurt your brain some in the accident, so they

must have thought that the part of your brain that puts words in your

mouth was damaged. But it’s not that isn’t it? You’re just a stubborn young

girl with some issues. That having been said, it’s beginning to look like I’m

not needed, but I don’t want to get fired a minute into the job. And since

my other job isn’t exactly overflowing with customers, I think I’ll keep you

company.”

Well, a minute into her job and she’s already proved herself to be an

annoyance I can hardly stomach. I reach a hand out for the b.u.t.ton to call

a nurse, but the doctor is faster. I feel her hand reach it first and she deftly

maneuvers the wire from my reach.

“What the h.e.l.l, lady?” I utter in indignation.

“Whew, that was close. If you tell Ashika now, the gig is up. Come on,

let’s cut a deal here. You pretend to have aphasia and I won’t ask you any

stupid questions, they won’t call in a new doctor, and I get to earn some

money on the side. That way we both benefit. How about it?”

Well, I have to admit, that sounds like a nice proposition, but definitely

illegal on some level. Still, I have to wonder what kind of person this woman

is when she can just belt out something like that without hesitation. I turn

my bandaged eyes to where her voice is coming from, hoping I am looking

straight at her.

“You’re not a real doctor, are you?” I ask.

“Right on the first try. I make a living as a…magician, of sorts.”

Oh, brother. This just took a turn for the crazy.

“Don’t have a need for a con artist.”

She replies with a chuckle. “I suppose not. A magician can’t fill the

hollow in your soul, after all. Only a regular person can do that.”

“W—wait a minute, what did you just say?”

“Oh, you must have noticed it. See, you’re all alone now.” The lilt in her

voice that I first perceived as cheerful now grants a menacing air to her

speech. I hear her stifle the urge for one last chuckle, and then standing up

and walking across the room towards the door. “Doesn’t look like you’re

in the mood to talk today, so let’s leave it at that for now. We’ll try again

tomorrow. By—e.”

12 • KINOKO NASU

By the time she said goodbye, the cheerfulness had returned to her

voice. The sound of the door opening and closing signal her sudden departure,

as abruptly as she’d arrived.

With difficulty, I put my right hand on my lips. I was speechless at what

she’d said.

All alone. A hollow in the soul. It is those words that make me remember.

Oh no. Oh, dear G.o.d no. How could I forget him?

I can’t find him. In my mind, I call out, over and over, and he, the other

me, doesn’t answer. Shiki Ryōgi is gone. He’s gone.

 was once one of those people who suffered another personality,

sleeping and residing within her. The reason for it was simple. It was a

trait, pa.s.sed down through generations in the bloodline of the Ryōgi. The

legends tell vaguely of some long past flirtation with the occult and arcane,

but I don’t know if that can be believed. This trait, which in a normal family

would have been cursed, was instead celebrated and honed, an indication

of a state of grace. Those born with it are treated as the heirs to the dynasty.

And so it was with , who was made the heir even over her older

brother. She was an aberrant case. The alternate personality will always

be a different gender than the actual person. Among the male Yang and

the female Yin, the male personality usually emerges as the dominant. In

those who carried the trait, all have been born male, but carried a female

personality within them.  was the first female born. Inside her was

another, the man named Shiki.

For the most part, the one that controlled the body was still —me,

in other words. Shiki represented all of my more base aspects and all of

the thoughts I struggled to repress.  lived only by continually stifling

and killing the darkness within herself called Shiki, over and over, until

it was the only way she knew how to act normally. Not that Shiki had a

problem with that. He seemed quite content to lie dormant the majority of

the time, while I call him out in times where I needed his particular brand

of aggressiveness, such as in sword sparring. Always, he would come to

surface, glad to have the chance to be out, but at the same time bored and

resigned to his role.

At first it might seem like a relationship between a master and a servant,

but the truth was much more complicated. In the end,  and Shiki

were one person. Whatever  did, Shiki also desired, and when

Shiki’s desires were suppressed, it was done entirely through his own

volition. Which was fortunate, since Shiki had what might be called…

/ 2 • 13

homicidal tendencies. Now, as far as I knew, he didn’t actually commit any

murder…maybe. But what’s true is that he continually dreamed of the act

of murdering his fellow man.  expressly forbade it, and tried her best

to ignore it. But even as they ignored each other, they would never be

separated. Isolated as  was from the normalcy of the outside world,

she was never lonely, thanks to Shiki.

But the time finally came when the cracks in that connection began to

show. It was two years ago, ’ first year of high school. Shiki had never

shown any desire to use the body, but it was the first time he had wanted

to surface and take control. From then onwards,  suffered from gaps

in her memory, s.p.a.ces where she couldn’t remember what happened and

what she was doing.

As for me, the memories from my freshman year up until the accident

are gone. I can only recall fragments, lost without context: me standing in

the scene of a homicide, throat dry, staring at the dark red blood.

One other series of images stands out: The memory of a cla.s.sroom

bathed in sunset, giving it the same vivid red hue that dominates both

recollections, the cla.s.smate who destroyed , the one Shiki wanted to

kill, and the one last piece of an ideal, normal life that Shiki wanted so

much to protect. And since waking up from the coma, the name of that

cla.s.smate has remained out of reach, no matter how hard I try.

The hospital has its own rhythm, its own sort of respiration. The raucous

noise of the morning eventually dims slowly into the almost absolute

silence of the night. Occasionally, the sound of slippers echoing in the corridor

breaks the placidity, and is my only reminder that I am still awake. The

black shroud that blinds me now serves only to highlight how alone I am,

an entirely foreign sensation that  never had. She was never alone.

But now Shiki is gone, and his loss is keenly felt. In fact, the only way I

know I am me and not him right now is because I can’t feel his presence.

“Probably the worst way to know your ident.i.ty: identifying yourself

because of what you lost, because of what you aren’t. “ I take a shot at

some good, old-fashioned self-loathing, but it isn’t helping. I wish I was

just a little sad. That at least would be a change from the hollow soul that

the “doctor” said I had. Like the husk of some old ship, its worth nothing

without anything inside it. If so, what goes inside?

I’d…go inside.

A whispering, coming from somewhere in the room. I can feel air rush in

from the corridor outside, can hear the almost inaudible creak of the door

14 • KINOKO NASU

opening. I try to tell myself I’m imagining it, but I turn to the direction of

the sound all the same.

A flickering, almost numinous white haze. I shouldn’t be able to see it,

but it makes a mockery of that statement. Amidst the complete darkness,

it’s the only thing I can see. It stands, vaguely like a human, but without

bones to hold it up, in a state of being somewhere in between liquid and

gas. It travels towards me, flowing and spreading at the same time in a

disgusting motion. I am helpless, unable to move my body, so I can do

nothing but wait for it.

At least it has a form I can comprehend. Things without form are the

truly frightening things. At least, with a shape, your mind can understand

it. I don’t sense any hostile intent from this spirit, if that is even what it is.

It’s even strangely comforting. For how different are we really, this thing

that doesn’t live, and me who has no reason to live?

The spirit caresses me in the cheek, at which point my entire body

freezes, the sensation feeling like someone pouring ice water on my spine.

It hurts, but I can’t move. I can’t even scream. I can only witness it. We stay

that way, unmoving, from midnight until the sun starts to come up. At the

crack of early morning, I feel it melting away, like a desiccated slug. As soon

as I feel the icy grip loosening, I fall into deep sleep.

/ 3 • 15

/ 3

Several days have pa.s.sed since I first woke from the coma, but the

doctors have seen fit to keep my eyes bandaged for now. In a marked shift

from the noise which I had come to think was standard hospital policy, this

particular morning is so peaceful I lose myself taking in the little motions of

the day. I can hear the birds chirping outside my window, feel the daylight

shining through it, and I allow my lungs to be filled with the crisp air.

Yes, compared to the world I was in for two years, this world is truly a

sight to behold. But with each morning that I wake up to the sprawling

life of the world, I think: this world is only as happy as people are alone.

The safest way to live is to be alone, but why can’t people think that that’s

enough?

Once, I had a perfect setup. I didn’t need anyone else. But the circ.u.mstances

have conspired to make me wait for the part that I seem to lack,

and if current trends are any indication, I might have to wait forever.

But what, or who, exactly am I waiting for?

My conversations with the “speech therapist-slash-magician”, such as

she was, became a daily affair. In a hospital life full of batteries of tests and

therapy sessions, it’s become something to look forward to; a welcome

respite from the day-to-day ba.n.a.lity. Now, as always, our conversation

takes a turn back to my past, and as always, she is positioned in the chair

by my bed, talking in her own carefree manner.

“Mmm, now I see. So it’s not that Shiki couldn’t control the body, just

that he showed no desire to do it. You—well, both of you—are proving to

be quite the amusing couple.”

She had come suspiciously armed with some very extensive knowledge

of my background, some of which I know for a fact only a few people know.

She knew the curse behind the Ryōgi dynasty, the most tightly kept secret

of the family. She knew of my limited involvement in the serial killing that

wracked the city two years ago; details which I would normally be much

more secretive about, but I’ve long since resigned myself to the outcome

and consequences, though the crime and perpetrator remain ambiguous,

even inside my head. I find not having to think about it has made for a less

stressful thinking environment.

“There’s nothing amusing about having a dual personality,” I impulsively

interject.

16 • KINOKO NASU

She clicks her teeth in disappointment. “A cute label, but not accurate,

I’d say. Both of you exist simultaneously, each of you having your own will:

a recipe for dissociation. And yet, you both perform the same actions.

It’s complicated, and the label ‘dual personality’ doesn’t do it justice.

Something like ‘composite independent personality’ seems more fitting.”

“Hey, tack on a ‘republic’ in the end there and it’ll sound like some new

Balkan country.”

“Ah, well, I never said I was good with names. Still, I do find it weird that,

according to you, Shiki always slept, even though he didn’t need to.”

A matter only I could probably answer. It had always been that way.

Shiki had always liked to dream, to be off in some astral adventure somewhere

in his own imagining, an act that  had never shown any interest

in.

“So, is he still sleeping now?” she prods playfully, but I find that I can’t

answer her. “Then he really is dead, isn’t he? He took your place as the

consciousness that died during the accident, and the memories that he

took in became lost to oblivion. Explains the gaps in your memories, at

least. And without those memories, the knowledge of how involved you

were to the serial killing two years ago might be lost forever.”

“So I’m a.s.suming the suspect is still at large?”

“Indeed, but you know how this city plays. We say ‘oh, dear’ at a serial

murder we see on TV, and then go back to eating our dinner. To most of

the city in the last two years, it’s become some sort of bad joke. The rest

have just forgotten.” She laughs, leaving in doubt how much of her statement

she actually believed. “Shiki still puzzles me, though. If he hadn’t

done anything, it would have been the  consciousness that died. What

reason would he have for taking your place like he did?”

“To be honest, it’s still something I’m thinking about,” I say with hesitation.

“But enough about him. Did you bring the scissors I asked for?”

“Sorry, but Ashika and the rest of his minions didn’t allow it. You have,

um…well, a history with your eyes, so they’re not allowing anything sharp.”

Well, I can’t say I didn’t expect anything less. I’ve been doing pretty well

with my physical therapy, and I’ve even been able to move my body. They

said it’s the first time they saw someone recover so fast with just two PT

sessions every day. As a sort of celebration, I asked for a pair of scissors

from the good doctor.

“What were you going to use the scissors for anyway? Flower arrangement

on your bedside table?”

“h.e.l.l no. I just wanted to cut my hair, that’s all.” The hair problem has

been bothering me ever since I woke up from my coma. It’s become quite

/ 3 • 17

long in the span of two years. Every time I move my head it keeps tickling

my neck and back, and is probably the strongest proof I have of how infuriatingly

burdening long hair is.

“You should have just said so, then! It’s easy enough for me to call in a

hairdresser if you don’t want to talk.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Can’t stand ‘em. I will not be held responsible

for what I do when someone other than me does things to my hair.”

“Oh, I totally know what you mean. We women do have to take care of

our hair. You know, I really am jealous of you that your hair growing longer

seems to be the only indication that you’ve aged.” I hear the sound of her

standing up. “So! Since I couldn’t bring you scissors, let me just leave you

with another thing. It’s not much, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s a stone with

some rune inscriptions on it. Think of it as a protective charm. I’ll put it

over the door, so it’s important that you not let anyone take it off.”

Now I hear the sound of her dragging the chair to the door, after which

she must be using it to put the rune in place. Then, she opens the door.

“Well, guess that’s it for now. Someone else might be coming tomorrow,

so do be a good girl until then.” She departs then, leaving me only with

those strange words and the rune.

Night has fallen, and midnight has past, but my usual visitor hasn’t

revealed himself yet.

Each midnight, without fail, the hazy spirit comes. Tonight proves to be

the exception. Each night, as with the first, it had always given me a loving

caress, always on the cheek. It was painful, and perhaps even dangerous,

but I couldn’t care less even if he did choose to eventually kill me. It’d probably

be a much simpler affair.

In the dark, I brush the bandages wrapped around my eyes lightly with a

finger. It won’t be long now until my eyesight recovers. There remains one

thing to do before that happens, however: to destroy my eyes; this time,

with no room for error.

Without sight, I cannot see them, but it’s only a matter of time before

they are revealed again. If having sight means to keep seeing those…things

that must not be seen, then the choice is obvious. It’s much, much more

preferable to never see the world than to ever see those things again. Still,

maybe there is some other way. It’s the last resort until I can find some

other means to live.

Man, I am pathetic.

The  of the past would have destroyed her eyes without a single

18 • KINOKO NASU

word or thought to the contrary. I, on the other hand, am hesitating. Not

enough will to live, but not enough to die either. If that spirit ever gets it

in its head to kill me for some reason, I probably won’t cheer it on, but I

probably won’t raise a hand in defiance either.

/ A HALLOW - II • 19

A Hallow - II

For most everyone else in the world during the laid back days of early

June of 1998, it was as calm and easy a summer as any other. For Tōko

Aozaki, it was the season she would first come to know the intriguing

personality known as Shiki Ryōgi. It all began when Tōko had just taken in

a new hire, impressed by the boy’s ability to track her down despite her

preventative efforts. As fate would have it, this new hire apparently had a

yarn to spin about his friend, the previously mentioned Shiki, and as a way

to pa.s.s the time on a particularly lazy afternoon, Tōko decided to listen to

him.

Apparently this Shiki was in a coma, brought on after a car accident.

She was in a persistent vegetative state, where the chances of waking up

are below zero with the decimal numbers going into extreme lengths. It

seems that he also heard, from the nurses’ gossip at least, that Shiki hadn’t

aged a day since her coma, a little detail that Tōko had been immediately

suspicious of.

“Really now? Even the dead haven’t seen the end of entropy yet.” she

had said, trying to hide the curiosity in her voice. “Sounds a bit like…magic,

doesn’t it?”

“I don’t expect you to believe it, ma’am, but it’s true. There’s not a spot

of the last two years on her. Still, enough about my personal hang-ups. I

don’t suppose you have any curious coma stories to match mine, do you

ma’am?”

He hadn’t expected Tōko to take him seriously, but nevertheless, she

folded her arms and tried to dig up a story. “Let’s see now—there was this

story from some far off country where a woman got married then promptly

fell into a coma when she was twenty years old. G.o.d knows what the

reason was, though. Rude of her, huh? Anyway, her particular case lasted

for fifty years. Heard of it?”

“Can’t say I have,” said the boy, shaking his head. “So what happened to

her after she woke up?”

“A surprisingly healthy mental state. Almost like she never even went

into a coma! Can you imagine? She started recalling past memories, names;

the whole deal. Sad that it didn’t do anything to make the husband happy,

though.”

“What? Why would the husband be sad after her wife recovered?”

“Well, it’s more the wife’s problem, really. Her mind was as fresh as it

was before the coma, but her body’s taken the atrophy train to seventy

20 • KINOKO NASU

year old land. She wanted to run, go exercise, do athletics, but she obviously

couldn’t, and she couldn’t really understand why. The fact that she’d

aged fifty years just didn’t register as the truth in her mind. The husband

on the other hand, felt so bad for the wife that he actually said, with tears

coming out of his eyes, that it might have been better for everyone if she

hadn’t woken up.” She said all this as she relaxed in her chair, swinging

it from side to side lazily. “How about it, huh? Now that’s a story I don’t

expect you to believe. Hope it helped contextualize this entire thing for

you.”

After Tōko told this story, the boy fell silent, prompting her to speak and

prod him into conversation again.

“Oh, but has a bad premonition suddenly crept into the little man’s

head?” Tōko asks with a playful grin from cheek to cheek decorating her

face. The boy nods in a.s.sent.

“It’s a thought I’ve never wanted to entertain, actually: the thought that

Shiki might not actually want to come back.”

“Ah, but what’s this?” Tōko suddenly said, putting a hand on her temple

and pretending to be a psychic. “I sense a reason behind this. We’ve got

a lot of time to kill, so please, do tell.” The boy seemed angered at this

approach, and turns away.

“I’d really rather not, ma’am. You know, it wouldn’t hurt to be a bit more

sensitive to people.”

“Hey, you’re the one that started talking about her in the first place,

friend. Don’t start telling stories if you don’t like where they’re leading. I’m

only asking to pa.s.s the time, and because every time Azaka calls me, she

always keeps yapping on about this ‘Shiki’ person. I mean, how on Earth

can we women gossip when I don’t even know the first thing about the

person?”

As soon as Azaka’s name is mentioned, the boy frowns in dismay. “I’d

been meaning to ask at some point, ma’am, but where and how exactly did

you and my sister meet?”

“Long story short, we met when I was on a trip to investigate a little case

I was working on. We met, and due to circ.u.mstances beyond my control,

she ended up finding out about me being a mage.”

“Well, whatever. I would ask that you please refrain from pulling her in

too much into your world, though,” he said, the suspicion clear in his voice.

“She’s at a very delicate and impressionable age.”

Tōko couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “You don’t know the half of it. I

won’t b.u.t.t into your family problems, you have my word. And in exchange

for that, let’s go back to our previous topic and get me interested in this

/ A HALLOW - II • 21

Shiki person.” She lights a cigarette and leaned forward on her desk, the

head cradled in her hands positively beaming.

Seeing there was no talking Tōko out of it, the boy could only sigh as he

started to tell the story that began two years ago, on the snowy night when

he and  first met. In high school as cla.s.smates,  had showed no

interest in making nice with the rest of the student body, but it was the boy

who struck up a friendship with her. But in the second half of freshman

year, around the time the serial killer started making him or herself known,

 became more aloof and withdrawn, a matter eventually explained

when she eventually revealed to him that she suffered a split personality,

one of which had a taste for murder. If and how she was connected to the

serial killings was never found out. In a rain-soaked night colder than any

that had come before,  encountered an accident before the boy’s very

eyes. The boy and the girl were whisked away to a hospital, where she still

resides in a coma.

At first, Tōko listened to this story as one would listen to any half-truth

told over a beer, but as it progressed, the smile was slowly wiped from her

face. At last, the boy finished relating the story, wearing a solemn expression

of that told of how delicate a subject this must have been for him.

“So, I guess that’s the long and the short of that particular two-year old

story,” he concludes.

“Well, she isn’t some vampire in torpor, I can tell you that. Still, now I

might have some idea…” Tōko’s words descended into the particular brand

of murmuring she has when she’s pondering the solution to a hard problem.

The smile that had disappeared from her face now returns, though

this time as a sly curl of the lips. “Remind me again what character you use

for her name.”

“It’s ‘’ as in ‘sūshiki’, or ‘formula’. Why? Is there anything special

about it?”

“Or, alternatively, the ‘’ as in ‘shikigami’, that unique j.a.panese style

of goetic theurgy. And on top of that, she’s a member of the Ryōgi dynasty.

I’m beginning to see what this is all about, and it stinks of magic.” Unable to

contain herself, Tōko extinguished her cigarette on the ashtray and stands

up. “The hospital was in the suburbs, wasn’t it? I’ll be back in a few. I just

need to go see about this sleeping beauty of ours.”

And without waiting for a reply from the boy, Tōko left her office, along

with the boy, unable to think of anything except how exactly she had found

herself in such a favorable position. She felt like she could almost feel the

subtle rifts and changes in the skeins of fate, shifting to bring her here, at

this singular point.

22 • KINOKO NASU

A Hallow - III

The miracle of Shiki’s recovery happened only a scant few days after

that. According to the new hire, Shiki’s parents had not even been allowed

to talk to her for some reason, which meant that visits from him would

be decidedly impossible. Because of this, the boy seemed to dive into the

paperwork a little more readily, a little more fervently than Tōko had yet

seen, perhaps as some means to distract himself.

“It really is far too dark in this office,” Tōko mentions, to break the silence

they had kept since the start of the day.

“Well, I could get a light for you, if you want, ma’am,” he replies, monotone,

without sparing even a glance to Tōko. She got the sense that he was

thinking of something with the kind of a.n.a.l diligence that were allowed

only to absurd thoughts; half-baked ideas that one leaves to linger in the

mind long enough to entertain the notion that they might actually be halfway

sane. With this in mind, Tōko finally spoke to him frankly.

“You’re free to stop looking so glum about it anytime, you know. Shiki,

I mean. And don’t even think about sneaking in there at night just to see

her.”

“I’m not thinking anything of the sort, ma’am. Besides, there’re far too

many guards around that place: a pair in the front door, and a handful

patrolling the grounds.”

Mercy me, thinks Tōko, incredulous, he’s already counted the guards and

patrol routes. I just took him under my wing, so far be it from me to allow

him to be a criminal overnight. With a shrug of resignation, Tōko spoke. “I

was going to play this one close to the chest, but you’re leaving me without

much choice here. I’ve pulled what strings and favors I can to get hired as

a temp therapist in the hospital where your friend is. You hear that? I’m

going to find out about Shiki Ryōgi for you, so don’t you go running off

doing something that’ll get you arrested. It’s the least I could do after hearing

you tell that story when you didn’t want to in the first place.”

She sighed in what might have been an attempt to place a last bit of

indifference to the whole situation. The boy, however, stood up, walked

towards Tōko, and grasping each of her hands with one of his, he shook

them up and down. Not realizing this was his way of expressing his grat.i.tude,

she gave him an awkward look, saying, “Right—weird. Gotcha.”

“This is so surprising, Miss Tōko! I didn’t think you’d have it in you to

possess the compa.s.sion of the average person, ma’am!”

“Now see, you could’ve taken this in quiet celebration. But instead, you

/ A HALLOW - III • 23

had to go and destroy your chances of ever having a raise.”

“Oh, sorry, slip of the tongue,” he says quickly, trying to gloss over it as

fast as possible. “So that’s why you’re wearing a fancy suit today. Yes, quite

stylish. It looks so good, I almost don’t recognize you.”

“Um, well I always dress this way, but fine, feel free to keep up the

compliments. Lord knows I don’t get enough of them.” Sensing that the

boy would barrel right on through whatever she said, Tōko quickly tried to

get back on track. “So, with that business out of the way, I expect you not to

do anything as stupid as your age might imply. Something’s not right with

that hospital, and I’m not sure what, but you don’t need to get involved in

it. You just stay here and do some crosswords or something while I’m out.”

Those last sentences put a damper on the boy’s otherwise infectious

enthusiasm, and when he finally calmed down, he asked, “What do you

mean something’s not right?”

“I can feel the resonance of magic there, a ward maybe, put up by a

mage other than me. Whoever it is, his or her objective probably isn’t Shiki,

or they wouldn’t have waited so courteously for two years for me to pop

into the picture.” A lie and Tōko knew it. The machinations of mages were

often marked by their forethought and patience, and there wouldn’t have

been a reason for any mage to act before Shiki awakened, but now she has.

The boy need not know all of that, and fortunately, it seemed that Tōko

bluffed it well enough for him to be satisfied.

“Um, ma’am, when you say a ‘ward’, you mean something like what

you’ve set up on this building, right?”

“You got the gist of it. Wards are nifty little spells centering around

controlling a slice of s.p.a.ce. Some mages like to conjure up actual physical

walls, but others are a bit more subtle, veiling a place to induce a mental

urging on anyone that doesn’t know or have business with the mage to go

away. Best part? People never notice it. To them, it’s just some gut feeling

that they should stay away. The perfect spell to hide the fact that this place

is the sanctum of the best mage this side of Tokyo,” she said with a flutter

of her hand, the boy reading no irony into what she said. “Of course, you

managed to get through and find me and I didn’t even know you. But hey,

that’s why I hired you, didn’t I?”

“Then is the ward in the hospital a dangerous spell or something?”

“Read between the lines, friend. Wards are rather benign as spells go—by

themselves anyway. It’s always been used to protect hallowed ground from

the prying eyes of the outside world. It originated from Buddhist thought,

as far as I know, but now it refers to spells that act as an occultation to the

mage, making him or her extremely difficult to find. Good ones don’t get

24 • KINOKO NASU

noticed. The best ones just go out-and-out creating a small demarcated

s.p.a.ce that’s removed from all normal perceptions of ‘s.p.a.ce’, essentially

a small, temporary—yet functioning—pocket universe. But that’s some

straight up high-level thaumaturgy, done only by archmages; though as far

as I know, there’s only one such individual in j.a.pan.”

Now that Tōko was talking about the Art, a subject she rarely tackled in

the presence of the boy, she took on a pointed countenance that looked

even more serious than her usual expression. Being a mage was her other

job—her real job, if one could even call it that. She continued:

“Still, while it may not have been that extreme, that ward in the hospital

is still very well woven, whatever effects it may have. I almost didn’t notice

it at first. I knew someone once that could have worked something like it,

but it really could have been anyone deft enough in that aspect of the Art.

I guess it fits their specialty, but mages who specialize in wards do tend to

distance themselves from most outside affairs, so I can’t imagine someone

like that meddling in this.”

That ward in the hospital wasn’t just some cheap spell from an amateur,

though, thought Tōko. It was different, pointed inward maybe. Maybe to

veil the hospital from any unwanted attention? The mental urging telling

those inside to ignore anything abnormal, so someone could operate with

free rein?

Tōko told none of this to the boy. He still needed to be kept out of any

unnecessary meddling from things beyond his ken. She mentioned only

enough to be polite, and make it clear to him that this was a matter far

above him. Tōko took one glance at the wall clock and stood up.

“Well, guess it’s about time I showed my face over there,” she said, and

started to walk towards the door.

“Miss Tōko, please just take care of Shiki for me,” the boy says behind

her. Without turning to look at him, she gave him a grunt of acknowledgement

and waved a hand in goodbye, but a last question from the boy gave

her reason to hold her steps for a moment. “Oh, just a trivial question,

ma’am, but who was that expert in wards that you knew?”

She dug into her memory for a moment, then looked over her shoulder

and answered.

“Oh, just an old friend. A monk. There’s really no need to worry about

him. The last time we met was on long-past times, in different continents.”

/ A HALLOW - III • 25

It has been six days since Tōko first filled in as a speech therapist for

Shiki’s case. She had just come back to the office from the hospital, and

she was about ready to just sit down and relax until the day ran out. She

looked out the window, the setting sun outside baking the walls of her unlit

office into a crisp red, forcing her to slacken her orange necktie; a sign of

the coming summer heat.

Each evening she returned to the office with an update on Shiki’s progress,

an act the boy learned to be thankful for.

“She does PT two times a day, and a battery of brain examinations after

that, and both leave her pretty spent. You don’t need to be troubling her

further by going there, so have the patience to wait a little longer and you’ll

be able to see her then.”

“Will she be fine with just two physical therapy sessions a day? I mean,

she was in a coma for two years after all.”

“I’ve heard that they exercised her joints everyday while she was in a

coma. These are trained professionals, friend. Trust them to do their job.

Hers is a ‘rehabilitation’ in more than one sense, as she needs to realign

herself with society as well. How she recovers physically is only a question

of time.” Tōko paused to produce a cigarette, promptly putting it into her

mouth and lighting it. Shiki Ryōgi, was, to her, an enigma, a puzzle to relish

the formulation of a solution. And every time she talked to Shiki, every

time she came back to the office to tell the boy, she found herself pondering

the greatest puzzle of all: Shiki’s ident.i.ty.

“Her mind, however…well, that’s an entirely different story. She’s drifting

farther apart from her previous self each day, I suspect.”

“It’s the amnesia, isn’t it?” the boy said hesitantly, but also with conviction,

as if he’d been preparing himself for this revelation for the past two

years.

“I’m not entirely convinced it is. I don’t see anything wrong with her

personality. It’s just that...well, I don’t know how you’ll react to this so—”

“Don’t worry, ma’am. I think you’ve inured me to these things by now.

Please, spare no detail on my account. What exactly is wrong with her?”

Ironic, then, that sparing details was exactly what she had been doing

in the last few days. But, she thought, perhaps it’s best that he know now.

“Her other half that you told me about, the other personality known as

Shiki she kept inside her, has vanished. She probably can’t even be sure

herself whether she’s  or Shiki. When she awoke, Shiki was already

gone. And maybe, that’s why her soul now feels empty, like a sinkhole.

We mages know better than most the consequences of the soul, and the

hollow she feels now is a h.e.l.l of a burden, inexpressible but keenly felt.”

26 • KINOKO NASU

“But, why did Shiki disappear?” he inquired calmly. All told, he’s taking

this quite well, thought Tōko. Maybe he really has steeled himself for it.

“I’m only speculating here, but if you’ll entertain it: Two years ago in that

accident, the girl you know as  Ryōgi died. But Shiki took her place

and died in her stead. ‘Reborn’, such as it was, in her mind was a wholly

new individual, molded by her memories and experience but unable to

truly feel them. She still probably spends her nights there in her dilemma,

unable to grasp the sensation that she is someone that is more than the

sum of her parts.”

“If she’s a different individual like you said, does that mean she can’t

remember anything that happened before?”

“No, no, she remembers just fine, with the exception of the memories

that Shiki himself made. She suffered what might be called a ‘death of the

mind’. Think of it as her taking a little trip and gaining new experiences.

She’s still the Shiki you know, but changed somehow by the journey of her

soul. I suspect that’s why her growth stopped when she slipped into the

coma, as she entered a liminal state of being alive and dead, due to the

dual existences of  and Shiki: a paradox that reality couldn’t resolve.

Her memories will be a source of continued anxiety, I a.s.sure you, as she

will be unable to remember many of what made her dual existence unique,

and what she does remember she can’t process as her own. Her personality

is one of synthesis, of the past and the present mixed together.”

I make it sound like it happened involuntarily, Tōko thought, but it probably

wasn’t; to compensate for the one she lost, as a way to retain her

ident.i.ty as a Ryōgi, she changes herself. If that’s true, then she’s a fool. She

needs companionship, not mimesis, to fill the hollow that Shiki left behind,

even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Tōko let this remain unsaid, and continued. “But even if we hypothesize

that she’s a different person, the truth is that she’s still Shiki Ryōgi, even

if she can’t feel the same way. Time will pa.s.s, and with time, her soul’s

wounds will heal, and she’ll eventually recognize that fact. A rose by any

other name and all that jazz. See, a rose doesn’t change just because you

put it on different soil or water it another way. So don’t start slashing your

wrists in the bathroom because of it.” She added in a whisper, “In the end,

a hole has to be filled with something. For her, the memories won’t do.

She needs to make new memories, new experiences; a new hallow for her

soul that she herself can create.” Tōko looked squarely at the boy, ensuring

there was no mistaking who she was referring to. “And it’s your job to

get her there. You just go do your thing, make contact and conversation.

It’s the thing she needs the most after she gets out of the hospital, which

/ A HALLOW - III • 27

should be soon.”

She chucks the cigarette she had been smoking violently out the window,

and then raised her arms to stretch her back, the bones producing a satisfying

cracking sound.

“I really shouldn’t have bought a brand of smokes I don’t know. That

was a horrible smoke right there,” she said to no one in particular. The boy

couldn’t figure out if the long sigh she made afterwards was caused by her

hatred of the cigarette or of the difficulty of her job, and decided that it

was perhaps best not to ask.

28 • KINOKO NASU

/ 4

As my usual morning examination comes to its usual boring close,

I glance at the desk calendar beside my bed and realize it’s the 20th of

June. That makes the duration of my stay here a mere seven days, counting

tomorrow when I get out of the hospital. With the gradual recovery of my

body, they saw fit to finally cut me loose. And that includes the bandages

on my eyes, which will come off early tomorrow morning.

It’s amazing how little of importance you can gain, and how much you can

lose in as short as a week’s time. Akitaka and my parents probably haven’t

changed a bit, but they feel like strangers. But it’s me that’s changed, and

with it, everything. I can only lie here and watch as it happens. I let my

hand brush lightly over the bandages covering my eyes. For all that I lost,

this is the only thing I gained.

Death: Maybe it’s a time and a place. But it’s also a concept, formless

and shapeless. I lived through it, and now I can literally see it. When I

opened my eyes for the first time in two years, the first thing I took notice

of wasn’t the nurse who rushed to my side in astonishment. It was a line,

running across her throat. It only took a moment for me to see the rest: a

line in every person, in every wall, even in the air itself, all of them across

everything I could see. They were never still, always flowing and slithering

in accursed serenity. Then I realized that these weren’t just lines. They

were cracks and fissures to that oblivion of nothingness I had been in. I

was filled with an irrational fear then, a fear of the possibility of that outer

darkness pouring into the world I had just returned to. The nurse talked

to me, but I couldn’t hear the words, only seeing the lines, and the things

they were attached to crumbling and dying, breaking apart piece by piece.

It was that vision that provided the impetus for me to try destroying my

eyes. My arms moved, half through my own volition, half through instinctual

fear, and every muscle hurt like h.e.l.l. I was still weak, and because of

that the doctor was able to stop me from crushing my own eyes. Jury’s still

out on whether that was a good thing or not. They never seriously asked

me why I did it, chalking it up to the fact that my mind was still recovering,

and all sorts of involuntary impulses could happen then.

But now my eyes are almost good again, a fact that I couldn’t deny any

longer. I’d do anything not to see a world like that a second time. Neither

the world I’m in now, or the world of “ ” in my sleep, a place more disgusting

and repulsive than any place I’d ever seen. I still can’t bear the thought

of ever returning there, though I’ve since consigned it to a bad dream.

/ 4 • 29

Yet these eyes tied to that oblivion are proof enough of how real it was.

I point my fingertips at my eyes. They’re only inches away from each

other now. All that’s left for me to do now is make a fast, clean stab, like I

always did in sword practice—

“Hold that thought, friend. Never been told to look before you leap?

Whoops, poor choice of words.” From the door comes a woman’s voice. I

turn my head towards it. I didn’t have time to remember who she is exactly

but whoever she is, I can hear her voice coming closer. I don’t seem to

hear any accompanying footfalls, however. The person stops right beside

my bed.

“Arcane Eyes of Death Perception, huh? Destroying