If Shota’s that good at making sushi, what else can he do with those hands?
Pushing that dirty thought out of my head, I grabbed the notepad Janet had left on the counter and quickly reviewed it to make sure there weren’t any outstanding orders. All of her tables looked to be taken care of, but as I glanced around the room, I noticed there was a man sitting in the corner by the circular window who hadn’t been served. Hell, he didn’t even have any water or anything. Weird. Janet was usually on top of her customers.
Hating to keep a customer waiting, I went over to help him, but as I approached, alarm bells began to go off in my head. The guy had long silver-gray hair that he pulled back into a high ponytail, and instead of normal clothing, he wore a black and silver haori and hakama—a kind of Japanese-style coat and pants. I half-expected him to be carrying a katana, but instead he held a sketchpad and paper, and his wizened old eyes were trained out the window, as if he was sketching the view.
“Konnichiwa,” I greeted him, defaulting to Japanese. “Would you like to see a menu?”
The man started, then twisted around in his seat to face me, faster than I would have expected for someone his age. “You can see me?” he asked, astonishment filling his voice as he looked me up and down.
“Umm. Yes. Why wouldn’t I?” Now that the man was facing me, I was struck by the odd color of his eyes. He was Japanese, like me, and normally we weren’t very creative in the eye color department. But instead of dark or light brown, his eyes were a brilliant vermillion—the exact same shade that we always painted the torii gates outside our shrines and temples.
The man beamed at me, and a curious sensation enveloped my body as I stared into them. It was almost as if his smile had parted the clouds, and the sun was shining directly onto my body. Except that didn’t make sense, because I was inside.
“You are the one I’ve been searching for.” He set his pad and pencil down, then leaned back in his booth as though he’d just eaten a very satisfying meal. “I can return to the Heavens now, knowing my duties are done.”
“What are you talking ab—” I began, but the man was already out of his chair and across the room. How the hell had he moved so fast? I was about to shrug it off, but then I noticed he’d left his pad and pencil behind. Snatching them up, I raced out of the café as fast as I could, hoping I could catch up with him in time.
“Mister!” I shouted as I burst through the door, whipping my head left and right. I caught sight of him halfway across the street and rushed to the corner. “Mister! You forgot your stuff!”
He turned toward the sound of my voice, and that was when the bus plowed straight into him.
Chapter Two
“Mister!” I screamed as I watched the bus plow into the man. Holy crap, the driver hadn’t so much as tapped on his brakes! My heart in my throat, I leapt forward, fully intending on using my petite frame to stop traffic. Someone had to make sure he was okay—
Except there was no body in the street. The old man was gone.
“Guh…” I sputtered, trying to process what I’d just seen. How was that possible? The old man had been standing right there. He’d turned his head to look at me right before he’d been run over.
And yet there was no body on the asphalt. Not so much as a single finger. It was as if he’d never been there.
As traffic continued on like nothing had happened, I became vaguely aware that I was clutching something in my hand. Frowning, I looked down to see that I was still holding the man’s art supplies. Ha! Proof! He was totally real. The pencil in my left hand was solid, and the sketchpad in my right…
“What the…” I mumbled, my eyes going wide as I stared at it. I brought the cream paper closer to my face, certain that the light was playing a trick on me. But no.
The sketch was of a Japanese woman in an elaborate kimono embroidered with large sakura blossoms, her hair done up in an elaborate style that even a geisha would be envious of. That wouldn’t have been weird, except her face was a carbon copy of mine—my long-lashed, almond-shaped eyes, my small, slightly rounded nose, my wide cheekbones and square-shaped face.
Hell, even the tiny beauty mark at the corner of her left eye was identical to mine. Had this man been sketching me the whole time? But then why had he been looking out the window?
“Aika!” Janet’s high voice startled me out of my state of muddled confusion, and I turned to see her hurrying down the front steps of the café toward me. Her face was the picture of concern. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“I…” A glib response sprang to my lips, but it died instantly as Janet’s form flickered before my eyes. Instead of a young woman in her twenties, I was looking at a creature with sunken lips and eyes, leathery skin that looked like it belonged on a mummy, and an enormous distended belly that threatened to burst her orange uniform dress open. My mouth dropped open, and the image flickered away, replaced by Janet’s normal, pretty face.
“What are you staring at?” Her eyes narrowed, and a chill ran down my spine. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was looking at me with suspicion.
“Nothing.” I pressed a hand against my stomach as nausea roiled in my gut. Why was I hallucinating? “I… I guess I don’t feel well.”
Janet’s expression softened. “Of course. You’ve been super stressed. Go home and spend some time with your mom,” she said, and her face changed again, back to the leathery mummy. I choked down a scream as she reached out with an impossibly long, narrow arm and patted my shoulder with a stubby, four-fingered hand. “Make sure to get plenty of rest. We need you back tomorrow!”
“Y-yeah, sure,” I stammered. Janet turned around to go back in, and I swallowed at the sight of her long neck and bulbous head. Had I eaten something strange today? Had Shota put something weird in the sushi? A chill ran down my spine at the thought. What if he’d drugged me?
Don’t be ridiculous, I scolded myself. Shota wasn’t that kind of guy. Sure, we didn’t know each other that well, but I was a decent judge of character. Shota might want to buy my mom’s business, but that didn’t mean he’d resort to dirty tricks like this to get it. Besides, I hadn’t noticed anything off about the food he’d given me.
Shaking my head, I went back inside, grabbed my stuff from the closet behind the bar, and headed out. Maybe Janet was right, and the stress was finally getting to me. A cup of tea and a good night’s sleep were all I needed, I assured myself firmly as I hopped onto my bicycle.
But as I pedaled up the narrow streets toward the apartment I shared with my mother, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant had happened to me this afternoon. And that the universe wasn’t quite done doling out surprises for me yet.
Chapter Three