Chameleon

Junichuri was feeling different, recently. About life. About relationships. About a new relationship. One he had found himself reeling in joy from but also fear. Fear of a question that had no recognizable solution, and no tangible, sane answer. Over the last four weeks, he had been in communication with a sea creature. And he laughed at himself for it, but he knew deep inside, he was falling in love, and he didn’t care. He brought the extra paper to the beach. His note began: How can you write me when you live in the water? How do you breathe? Are you a real person? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s only that whenever the dawn hits, and I wake up, I feel alive again— because I know I will see yet another addition written here for me. I write to you now, hoping this isn’t some childish prank or a teenager who wants to jerk me around. In the middle of a world, my world, where I have no one, this is literally the only thing I have to look forward to. My family is all dead. I’m an old man. Not too old, mind you. How do you measure time? Age? How did you make this book? Out of black seaweed and discarded dried paper? It looks so delicate, and yet the tide cannot find it. I used to be a physicist, that worked for a university back about fifteen years ago. My research was grounded in teaching Space psychics and studying space weather patterns for NASA at one point, and other such relevant research facilities. How do I know English? I only know English because of my father. He was a diplomat for the Japanese government. He traveled across Europe and the United States, and he taught me English. I wish I could meet you. I wish we could be together, even as I don’t even know what you look like. If you are a woman, even. But, I feel something so strong within these last few letters between us. I noticed your writing has a phosphorescence to it, and I wonder if that has to do with the algae. I won’t tell you my name yet, but it’s not because I’m mysterious or trying to be secretive. I just want to know you are real. If you could give me another physical sign of your existence please, show me. I live by myself, and you sound in distress at times, and I am in a way, feeling distressed as well. I will help you if I can. Even if we never meet, I want to know more about you. Your friend, Always. The moon rose in the sky, and was blood red, shining like a mysterious shadow. The sea below the jagged rocks and mountain rose high for about two minutes, but went quickly to low tide, glowing menacingly, a bright teal and green. Under the rock, was their carefully hidden message book. The colors of the book were black, of the earth and the sea, mixed with green and grayish-white, where they shared a bond but couldn’t reach one another. The pages of mixed together seaweed and raw dried paper hardened together to form the most makeshift form of a book, that looked rudimentary and strange but felt right in his calloused hands. Junichuri felt like his own heart had hardened him over the last twenty or so years, and though he had never had any children or wives, or anyone to call his own, and despite feeling betrayed by everyone, he longed for a companion deeply. If asked by an acquaintance that he happened to pass by if he would ever meet someone, he would shrug, and be on his way, back to his pristine house near the mountain by the sea. He felt like nobody, and that once he passed away, he would be forgotten very quickly, much like sand being swept by a random current, and once replaced, no one would notice. Even as he knew his work in Space physics was very important and he had made many important discoveries, including some prominent essays on space-time and plasmas, he was long forgotten now by his self imposed exile and by being incredibly anti-social. He had once believed that his career would skyrocket him out of obscurity, and he would finally become someone worthy of love. But, alas, that moment never happened for him, and now, he was alone more than ever. So, that one day he was walking along the beach and found that strange collection of seaweed and dried paper, and read the scrawled out writings of what appeared to be a creature that needed someone to truly be their friend, to see them not for what they were but who they were, he could not say no. He was too old to be skeptical and toss it aside like he would’ve done years ago. He needed this. He didn’t need money, he had his health, but what he didn’t have was someone that needed him. He felt as though he reached the peak of insanity, however, believing that this relationship could be real. That some kind of aquatic sea creature was capable of creating something that resembled a notebook, that it could write, and communicate, and that he actually wrote it back. A sad, sorry, small little black seaweed book full of ill-shaped pages, with scratched out little drawings for letters. He really felt like a fool. That night there was a terrible storm. Junichuri had gone outside, as he could not sleep after a particularly intense dream, and had to get some fresh air. He noticed the signs of a geomagnetic storm and saw what looked to be an Aurora Borealis forming in the sky. He was worried that the power would go out and went back inside. “Tonight will be a long night,” he said out loud, sighing. He realized at sixty-two years old, having all the freedom and luxury he could’ve ever needed, with his career and his life never in chaos, he was never once happy. Being alone, he had found tiny ways to feel happy temporarily, but it would subside. His mother was a woman who had from the beginning, been someone who was fun and full of spirit. He remembered her as he decided to go outside again, to check out the storm. His father, not at all. He was rigid about rules to a fault, and never strayed from tradition or schedule, from plans, and had kept himself so in line with what he perceived to be the strong head of the house, he never actually was a father to Junichuri. He remembered one time that really stuck out to him. It was after lunch on Sunday. He was maybe seven or eight years old. His mother was washing up, and whistling a tune. All of a sudden she started to sing. Junichuri didn’t know what the song was. She had a very soft and sweet voice, a high soprano that almost had a trilling quality. Junichuri was just playing with his toys and all of a sudden his father yelled out for her to shut up, and that women shouldn’t be loud. Everything was very quiet after that. He remembered how quickly words cut through his mother’s expressions after that, and even easier, the fun smile he had known her for had left her eyes and the laughter from her voice. But it wasn’t like that, within a year. Or ten years. It was day by day. Hour by hour. Minute by minute. Moment by moment. And he noticed it, the subtle and quiet way a laugh felt out of place. How her hug still would feel warm, yet her smile seemed forced. All of it. But he pretended not to. It was easier to look away from something that scared him. When he saw the strange phenomenon in the sky, he couldn’t help but feel that he should go to the rock, to see if there was a chance he could see his friend. He had no siblings, and his friends had either moved on from him, or they passed away. He didn’t like to socialize much, and people noticed it after so many no’s to social invites and dinner parties. He wasn’t funny, either. He tried, but he just couldn’t make a woman laugh. He attributed it to his strict upbringing. But, his mother had a wonderful laugh. He felt a pang of sadness hit his stomach that felt more like physical pain, and he stopped walking down the beach path for a moment, breathing heavily. He felt his age at that moment. He also had arthritis and his leg was hurting. He decided to go back and wait until morning, going straight to bed. He was retired and didn’t have much to do in the day. His routine was simple: wake up, dust his house, drink tea, morning walk on the beach. Today, he decided to go into town for something to eat. The baker mentioned to him of the strange weather and of how there were odd lights in the sky, to which Junichuri merely shrugged. He realized how abrupt and short he was with people, and he felt a bit ashamed when he left the bakery. He saw someone else that he usually ignored on the way to the store. A young girl with dirt on her clothes, holes in her socks, and whose parents were famous for being drunks and lazy. Her father would constantly haunt bars day and night. He stopped in his routine, feeling bad for her, and said good morning. “Good morning.” She said back, looking at him with stern eyes. He tried to smile at her but felt a bit sad. “Do you go to school?” He asked her. She shook her head. “I stopped going last year. We couldn’t get the payments anymore.” “I’m sorry.” He said softly, feeling out of his element. She looked down and shrugged. “How old are you? What’s your name?” He asked. He couldn’t believe how loquacious he was this morning but for some reason, he felt like he needed to talk to her. “I’m twelve. My name is Sayuri.” She bowed her head slightly. “What is your name?” “Junichuri.” She smiled a bit. “Good name.” “Your name is good too.” He handed her one of the bags he bought from the bakery. “Here, I bought too much today.” She took it and thanked him. He nodded and walked off. He felt brave suddenly as if finally having a conversation with another human being gave him the strength to stand up straighter. A lady who he usually saw him in town immediately noticed a change in the man’s demeanor. Usually, he walked looking downward, his coat covering part of his face, his shoulders slumped, and walked in a small shuffle. Today, he was standing tall with his shoulders back and his face forward. She waved at him and he smiled at her. She was so shocked she almost dropped her groceries but smiled back once she got over her surprise. He went to the store to buy his stuff and then ate some breakfast. He was excited to go to the beach and find the new message. They wrote back to each other every single day like clockwork. He remembered one of the first things he had read from the notebook, a reply from something he wrote back: I have seen you before and I want to know you. You peoples fascinate me, and I particularly like how you pick up shells, look at them, and put them down. I hear you sing. I sing, too. I will sing one day for you. The writing was very crude in the beginning and written in scratches, but he could read it. The grammar and spelling were off a lot, too, but he didn’t mind. Some of the writing was in cuneiform, which he did know a little. The one thing he read that actually got him to believe it might be real was that someone had heard him sing. He sang low, so lowly, so softly, with no one else around for miles, and he knew it was impossible for anyone else to know he sang except if there was someone listening to him in the ocean. He did like to have some evidence to support his insanity even if it was very rudimentary. After all, even as a prank, it was very elaborate and well done, and he appreciated it nonetheless. He thought of Sayuri as he finally reached the beach. When he died, what would become of her? He looked at the immensity of the ocean, and it terrified him as much as it made him feel dizzy and fully aware of his mortality, he languished a bit, sitting there by the seaside, immersed in the beauty of it all. He finally got up, stumbling a bit toward the rock. He lifted it and saw the book. And yes, to his delight, there was indeed another entry. Dear friend, You ask for answers yet you will not give me your name. I am not offended by what you said, but I will say in my culture there would never be a discussion of what defines a person or not. I’m not ageless, but we do not have ages here. Time is different here, too. I cannot describe it. One day, I will show it to you. I will tell you my name. Akiho. I made this book in hopes that you and I could communicate. I see you walk by here. I see you, and I think you are someone I feel connected to, very much. I do not need any help. I just wanted to know you. I have no one, just like you. There is something about my world I want to share, and now I know more of you, I know this was really meant for something more. You study space. I know space. I know it, I can travel through it. I can alter things in my world, not time but physical things. In this world. Please, tell me your name. I do not know what is going on inside of me, but I know that between us, there is something strong that I cannot hide. Yours, Akiho. He was so shocked and happy, but scared, reading it over and over again. He wrote back immediately, but he brought the fresh paper to do it, sitting down and started fervently scribbling his reply. He was so excited he broke his pen. He cursed under his breath, using the half-broken pen to finish the letter. Akiho, My darling, my name is Junichuri. You live in the ocean, but also in space? Between two plains of existence, you can alter your reality? Could you explain that further? It’s not that I don’t believe you, but it’s just something I never heard of. I talked to someone today. I never do that. This little girl is all alone too. She is poor, and she has parents who drink too much and she cannot go to school. I feel like I must help her, too. I do not know how. Are you a female or a male? I am a man. What do you look like? Also, if you heard me sing, what was I singing? I am not a trusting person, but I want so badly to trust you, Akiho. I think the strong feelings you have inside of you are love, and I feel this way, too. For you. As a friend, I love you. I think if we could live together, we would be happy. I never had a wife, just a string of girlfriends, and they all left me. I’m sorry for all my questions as I am just so shocked by all of your answers. They leave me more curious than ever. Yours, Junichuri. He carefully placed the letter inside the book, and then under the rock again. He stayed at the beach for a while, praying that maybe he could catch a glimpse of Akiho. He realized that name could be a male or female name. He really didn’t care anymore. He just wanted a friend. Tired, more like exhausted, he decided to go home. He took a long nap when he got inside his home, and dreamt of being underwater, weightless, and with Akiho, traveling through space and then swimming in the sea, happy and free. He stayed in bed, decided to skip lunch, but got up to have a light dinner. He really just wanted it to be the next day, so much so, he didn’t realize there was another geomagnetic storm that night, and all the power went out for several hours until the morning. When he woke up, he didn’t do anything but get dressed to go to the beach. He didn’t even know his food in the fridge had gone bad from the power outage, from his enthusiasm to go to the beach. He ran to the rock and saw no reply. It worried him, and it made him think maybe it was all a prank after all. On the off chance it wasn’t, and Akiho was real, maybe something happened and they were hurt. It made him feel scared that he was all alone again. But it made him want to find a way to help Akiho, and make sure that they were okay. He never worried so much at that moment then right as he lifted the rock, not seeing a single word of reply back to him. He ran about the beach, looking to see if there was any sign of his friend, or of distress, but no one was on the beach or in the water that he could see. “Akiho!” He yelled. As soon he called the name, he felt himself recoil at his foolishness. He might be calling out a fraudulent person, a fake, a setup, and he found himself worrying and caring about this fictitious person that lived in between the space and the sea, so much, he was willing to die for them. He stayed for a while, feeling incredibly depressed. He was starting to feel hungry, but he waited just a little longer. They had been talking back and forth for about four weeks, and this was the first time they hadn’t replied. He felt hurt, but still, tried to stop from thinking it was intentional. He went into town and got something to eat. That was when he saw the strangest thing. Sayuri, in a brand new, pressed uniform, her hair done and clean. New socks, new shoes, and she was with her mother. Her mother looked sober and clean. He was so incredibly floored by this, and as he saw Sayuri hug her mother goodbye on her way to school, he felt as though his feet were stuck on the ground. She saw him and came over. “Good morning, Junichuri!” She said, smiling. He nodded. “Good morning. How are... how are you, Sayuri?” He felt a bit flustered. How can someone’s circumstances change overnight? She grinned. He never saw her so happy, and it made him happy. “I’m going to school!” She jumped up and down. Then all of a sudden, she looked around and whispered, “My father found something very weird by the beach.” She sighed, and her eyes narrowed. “A Mermaid’s purse.” Junichuri felt his heart thud in his chest. “What?” He asked with a raspy voice. “It is one of those egg pouches that resemble a satchel or a purse. It’s black. My father said his colleague from school called it a Mermaid’s purse. It had no eggs in it. Or fish. But, it had gold!” She said excitedly. “Real gold!” His eyes widened. “How very fortunate,” He said, but he felt sick and nervous, and also had a very odd feeling that his friend had something to do with this. “And it was worth twenty thousand dollars!” She said, her grin wide as ever. “Now I can go to school. It was a very odd coincidence the bar he was at had to shut down because of the power outage last night. But, a good coincidence, after all!" “I’m sorry, Sayuri, I must go. Have a good day, please, excuse me,” He said, and her expression fell but she nodded politely. He walked quickly and didn’t know where he was going, but felt like he had to go somewhere far away. He walked for almost a mile, far away from the town, and the ocean. Then, feeling frozen, the anxiety of it all became too much, and he felt dizzy and tense all over. He needed to go home and rest. It started to rain, and he cursed his luck. He was soaked by the time he got home, and when he cleaned up and finally changed, he felt too tired to do anything else the rest of the day. He decided he wouldn’t bring this up to his friend. He hoped to God that Akiho was still alive. He also hoped that he wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t sure which he hoped for more. But, after lying in his bed, he fell asleep slowly, having nightmares of strange noises and being strangled by a creature with a strong human likeness and a mermaid’s tail, and a large mouth with sharp teeth grinning at him. That made him wish he was crazy. What if his friend looked like that? What if his friend was actually a foe? He woke up early and decided to take another walk into town. Sayuri was not there, but he saw other people he usually ignored. He said hello to several people he had worked at the university with, and one of his old colleagues had actually been looking for him. He had been reading over one of the scientific journals that Junichuri had published years ago and was wanting to work on a project with him on plasmas relating to medicine. It overlapped on his own theories and could be applied to something practical already done in hospitals. He was very excited by this prospect and would talk to the gentleman later in the week on it, to collaborate further. He also talked to a florist for a few minutes, and they shared a laugh, which made him buy some flowers. She asked him who he was buying the flowers for. He wanted to say it was for Akiho. Instead, he said it was for Sayuri. And when he saw her, walking to school, he gave her the flowers. “Good morning,” He said, and handed her the flowers. “Good morning! Thank you!” She smiled. And he forgot about Akiho for a little while. But then he went back home and felt so angry at himself. He really did forget to check on the notebook, completely, and he realized why. He actually went out of his comfort zone to talk to people. He felt good and bad from the experience, equally, and decided to take a day off from going to the beach. The next day he went straight to the beach and went to the rock, his heart thudding and his breath shallow. He turned the pages and saw their whole story together. All of their words, and their commitments and stories, and slowly, he felt like he was truly in love. Then he saw a long message. A new one. My dearest Junichuri, I know I missed our last communication, and I missed you, too. I had to do something. It took me a while, and when I came back, I saw you didn’t write me again either. I hope you didn’t think I didn’t want to talk to you. I did. Thank you for telling me your name. And that emotion, love. I think I love you, and it feels like the strongest riptide is pulling my whole body and soul toward you, and we collided by chance, but now, it cannot be undone. I am glad you gave me a chance now to help you, and though it was difficult, I know it was very important. I used to think that things that were important to yourself only mattered, not other people, but you really let me see that others are important too. I live in a dark galaxy, where there is no light and almost no stars. Where there is dark matter, which is much of space, and then the small filaments that make up the webs of our galaxies, our worlds, there are channels that can be crossed for certain periods of time. I am composed of spectral light there, and when I am here on earth, I live in the sea. I can breathe air and water, for short periods of time. I do not understand what male and female is, at least, for my people. In my life, I never felt like I wanted to help anyone, but when you told me of the poor girl, I wanted to. In a dying star, the most beautiful, dangerous thing happens. The process of supernova can create heavy metals like gold, and I heard that is valuable to humans. I found a way to acquire some of this gold for your friend. It took a tremendous amount of effort to not let it be hurtled randomly somewhere else in space, but once I got back to the sea, I put it somewhere a human would be curious to look. I cannot control everything, but knowing that you told me the parents drink, I started another storm that could knock out the power, so the bars would close. He stopped reading it right then and dropped the book. He was so much in disbelief at this point, he felt conned, and almost stepped on the book angrily. But he stopped himself. He picked it up again and skimmed it to the end. It said: You sang beautifully that day. You were singing about a Pennsylvania with a lot of numbers in it, and something about your hair, I couldn’t make it out, but I liked it. I like you, and we can both meet tonight. Then you will see what I look like. Midnight. Here. Love, Akiho. He swallowed hard, feeling his mouth go dry. He wrote back quickly. Akiho, okay, I hope so. Thank you for everything you’ve done. And I was singing a Glenn Miller song, Pennsylvania 6-5000. It’s my favorite song. I will see you then. Yours, Junichuri. He put the book back under the rock and walked back home. He decided that he would make up his mind tonight about what to do. And he thought of everything, from start to finish. He thought of the black seaweed book that they both wrote in, the progressive way they communicated with more and more openness and understanding. Junichuri loved the way Akiho’s writing had gotten better and more expressive as the weeks went by, with more attention to detail and emotion. He thought of Sayuri and how her father had found that gold in the Mermaid’s purse, and how Akiho had gone through much trouble to retrieve this gold. All because Akiho realized the importance of other people, because of their relationship. Because of Junichuri. He was thinking about everything from start to finish, and he realized that in the end, if it was a prank, it wouldn’t actually do anything to hurt him, technically. But what of Sayuri? How did that actually happen? How does gold just appear out of nowhere from the ocean? How did Akiho know what he was singing that day? That he was even singing at all? He had to know. And he was lying to himself if he told himself that he didn’t care, or that it didn’t matter to him. It mattered to him more than anything. Akiho mattered to him. For the longest time, he had ignored humanity, and even down to his own mother, he had pretended to not notice anything and everything because he didn’t want to be close enough to be hurt or hurt anyone else. He realized that was cowardly, and he didn’t want to be that way anymore. Did he really need Akiho?