They'll Be Waiting in the Stars

Earth

I punch out my cigarette against the balcony, my smoke interrupted by the pierce of a ringtone I’m still not accustomed to.

“Now who could that be?” I mutter discontentedly as I head back inside.

It’s late evening on New Year’s Day, the time when most people would have returned from their shrine visits and welcome home feasts to settle into a comfortable, familiar pace- the exact zenith between the awkward arrival period, settling in, and having to return to grueling reality. But I live alone, and moreover, I’ve spent the past ten years abroad, so it’s not like I have any friends who would be up at this hour wanting to talk. As for family, it’s just my parents. And I know they wouldn’t be calling. Especially not today.

Succumbing to the unfamiliar number, with what I hope is an imperceptible sigh I put the phone to my head.

“Hello?”

A woman’s voice, hesitant, slightly muffled, picks up from the other side.

“Hello, I’m looking for Tachibana Setsuka?”

“This is him. With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

“It’s Hisakawa Ana. From the orphanage. Do you remember?”

“Oh? Of course. After all it’s thanks to you we were taken care of. How have you been?”

“Fairly well, actually. I got married a few years back, after everyone left. It’s been a peaceful life.”

“I’m sure, compared to all the trouble we caused you.” At this I couldn’t help but indulge myself in a nostalgic grin. Nostalgia. That was a good way to put it. Thinking back fondly on a past that now can only cause pain. “But that’s old news. What bade you call tonight? It couldn’t have been a simple ‘Happy New Years,’ could it?”

When Hisakawa responded, I finally learned the cause of the hesitancy I had sensed lingering in the back of her voice.

“Oh.”

There was a long pause. Stillness. And then…

“Are they sure?

Yes.

Yes, I understand. Yes.”

I write down a date and address onto a notepad I keep on the coffee table.

“What about the others, were you able to…?

I see.

Well I assure you I will be there. No matter what.”

I never actually hang up the phone, letting it instead melt inside a hand that at some point goes limp at my side. Out of the corner of my eye I can still see the remains of smoke trailing against the stars of the sky. Grey fading meaninglessly into black. I stare at it long after the last ashes have disappeared into the night.

Rikuto… My precious childhood friend. Is dead.

And thus ended January 1st, 2033. And the Year of the Curse began.