Chapter 6 of 16
The very first thing I did was find a cheap hotel to stay in. Upon my asking, the front desk said that since it was out of season so the place was nearly empty and I'd have no problem extending my stay at the last minute. I settled for three nights, after which I'd either find another place to stay or extend my stay... or leave.
I was given the key to my room and I was able to go up before check in time. It was a very simple room. A tiny bed, a television set, and a bathroom. Not much room to move around in, but I didn't need much. I'd be out most of the time. I quickly unpacked some of my things and changed into warmer clothes. I then set out. I was going to find Miki's house.
I wandered around the town for over two hours. It seemed to be devoid of anyone under the age of sixty. Since it was a workday, everyone was off at their companies or restaurants or schools, while the old, retired people were left to wander around town and putter about. This was good for me because none of them recognised me. I could go about my business in peace.
At just past one o'clock, I found Miki's neighbourhood. I'd taken some wrong turns, so while the town was quite small, getting lost made it seem quite big.
At half past the hour, I found the Fujimoto residence. Or at least the Fujimoto residence of my memories. The nameplate read "Saito". I tried not to break out into hysterics, but it was really hard to do that. When your best friend's family home suddenly didn't exist anymore, things got a little hopeless. I circled the neighbourhood countless times looking for the Fujimoto nameplate that I remembered. I couldn't find it anywhere.
I grew more and more hopeless and I decided to give up while I still had a thread of sanity left. I walked away slowly. I spent the rest of the day walking. I probably covered the majority of the town. It wasn't very big. I recognised some things - shops, restaurants, and parks that I'd visited before - but no Miki, no Fujimoto family members. In a town of just less than fifty-thousand, it wasn't a great surprise. However, I'd been silently hoping that I would run into someone familiar who could give me a clue as to Miki's whereabouts.
It began to grow dark, and I started to feel hungry. I hadn't eaten anything in a long time, and my hunger was getting to the point where I was in pain. I felt faint and my stomach began to growl ferociously in protest against my refusal to stop and eat. It hit me like a wave, and I almost fell over.
Clenching my teeth, I dragged myself down the street and to the first restaurant that I saw. It was just past six o'clock.
The outside of the restaurant looked plain. There was something almost dodgy about it, but I didn't care. I needed food. The inside was surprisingly warm and light. It looked friendly and not at all like what the front of the building had suggested. The only somewhat negative point was that there was nobody in the room save for an older woman sitting behind the counter. She reminded me of my late grandmother, and I felt a twang in my heart as I remembered the dear old woman whom I'd loved so much.
"Welcome," the woman greeted me, standing up politely.
I greeted her with a warm smile and took a seat at the counter. I picked up a menu and ordered the first thing I saw - an eggplant and ginger stir fry. It sounded like it could be whipped up quickly. The woman set off to prepare it after bringing me a glass of water. I drank half the glass and felt sick as it poured into my empty belly. I decided not to drink anything else until my food came.
I watched the woman out of the corner of my eye. She moved slowly, and I wondered if she worked alone. As if in response to my question, someone walked out of the backroom. It must have been her husband. He looked about her age and carried himself with the familiarity of that of a husband. I could instantly tell that he was a friendly man. I noticed him smile when he saw me. He went over to the grandmother and muttered something to her. She responded. He picked up a squash and went back where he came from. I continued to watch the cooking process.
It took longer than expected. I caved in and drank more water, although this time it didn't shock me like the first few gulps had. My food came just in time to prevent me from gnawing off my own arm, and I dug in ravenously. After the first bite, I cried out that it was delicious. Grandma looked pleased and thanked me. I had never eaten something so tasty. Then again, I could have been eating raw asparagus and I would have been happy as a clam. Hunger really was the best sauce.
I was about halfway through my meal when the outside door slid open violently, sending a loud crash sound reverberating throughout the tiny restaurant. It also managed to freak me out of my mind. I didn't jump, but I jerked up and dropped a chopstick on my plate.
"I'm sorry I'm late!!" a girl's voice practically yelled.
I choked on a bit of eggplant after trying to gasp.
Long, messy, brown hair, my height, half-closed eyes, hastily done makeup, clothes thrown on in a rush... Miki.
That last word stuck in my mind.
Miki was standing at the entrance of the restaurant where I was eating. She was messy, sweating, trying to breathe at a normal pace, and a little skinnier than I remembered her, but she was undoubtedly Miki. I just knew.
My jaw dropped open, but I quickly closed it before all my half-chewed food fell out.
How?? What??!
Miki didn't seem to notice me at all, though, and she launched into a panicked rant.
"I swear I just meant to take a twenty minute nap. I didn't mean to sleep past-" she went on and one, making up every excuse under the moon.
My eyes were practically bulging out of my sockets, and I was ready to scream something out loud (although I have no idea what. Probably a mess of random syllables and unintelligible noises).
"It's okay," Grandma said simply, cutting Miki off with a smile.
The girl's shoulders relaxed, and she stopped talking a mile a minute. She shrugged her jacket off and turned to see me for the first time. I thought she would look surprised, maybe run at me and hug me and ask me what happened... but nothing of the sort occurred. She hardly acknowledged me. She gave me the barest hint of a nod and then moved off behind the counter to put on an apron while I sat there gaping.
What the hell was going on?!
This had to be Miki. She didn't just look like her. She was her. But somehow she didn't know who I was.
I looked down at my food. Eggplant. An eggplant was an eggplant. I knew that from experience. I'd seen an eggplant once, and from that point on, I knew what an eggplant looked like. Miki was Miki. I'd met Miki once, and from that point on, I knew who Miki was. It was simple.
I was so distracted that when someone appeared beside me, I almost jumped again.
"More water?" Miki asked.
I looked up at her and nodded dumbly. My behaviour didn't phase her, and she poured me a new glass of water. She moved off behind the counter and started to clean up the mess of eggplant remains. I kept an eye on her, occasionally poking at my food to make it look like I was still eating.
The old woman left the front room after ten minutes, telling Miki to take care of things while she went into the back to help Gramps.
It was just me and Miki. I couldn't hear any of my thoughts because there were three trillion of them playing at the same time. It sounded like radio static.
I watched Miki's every move. She had sat behind the counter on a stool, and she was reading a big book. Once in a while, she looked up to see if I needed anything, and then continued reading. When she did this, I quickly looked away and pretended to be observing the decorations in the room. Then I would go back to staring at her once she'd become engrossed in her book.
She looked very tired. As if she hadn't slept the night before. And she was definitely skinnier. Not enough so that just any person would notice, but I arguably knew her better than anybody else, so I could tell. I kept staring until she put her book down and stood up. I quickly refocused my eyes on my meal and forced myself to eat a bite. I heard her walk up to me.
"What?" she asked.
I had thought that she would refill my water and then leave. I hadn't expected her to confront me like that. I began to sweat.
"Huh?" I shot back at her weakly.
Instead of backing off, she took a seat beside me, and I wondered if she liked to intimidate all of the customers. No wonder the place was empty.
"What is it? You keep staring at me," she elaborated.
Her voice didn't sound offensive or challenging. She sounded simply curious. Not any more curious than I was, however. I had so many questions.
"I, um-" I stuttered, "-you look like someone I know."
The lamest excuse in the history of time. If I'd been a man, she would rolled her eyes and shot down a line like that.
"Really?" she asked with a bored look.
Her voice belied her interest, however. She wanted to know more.
"Really," I replied unnecessarily.
There was a pregnant pause in our conversation. I hummed one of my songs in my head, replacing every lyric with the word "awkward".
"Sorry," she finally said. "It's the first time that someone like you has come here."
She looked away nonchalantly and scratched at her nose.
Someone like me? What was that supposed to mean?
"Someone like me?" I asked with a frown.
She looked at me with a strange expression.
"Yeah. Someone like you," she repeated.
"What does that mean?" I asked, genuinely confused and wondering if I should be offended.
"Well, maybe you didn't notice," she started tentatively, "but you are kind of famous. Right? Or did I mistake you for...?" she trailed off.
Oh my god. Of course. She knew who I was. But to her I was a celebrity, not a friend. This cruel, cosmic joke was going on far too long. I wanted to scream out to the sky for it to stop.
"Oh," I said, looking down disappointedly. "Yeah. Me."
"It's a bit hard not to recognise you when I see your face six times a week on our fridge," she shrugged, gesturing towards the refrigerator behind the counter.
I looked and was surprised to see an old tea advert that I'd done years ago. The edges of the picture were a little yellowed with age, but the face was intact.
"Oh," I said with surprise.
Miki stood up and backed off a bit.
"Um, sorry to disturb you," she said quickly, moving away.
She'd most likely taken my disappointment as an indication of me not wanting to talk.
"No, it's not- um, a problem. I was just surprised. I haven't seen those pictures in a long time," I said quickly.
There was another awkward pause. Miki smiled warily and headed back behind the counter to wipe what was most likely an imaginary dirty spot off the counter while I tried to think of a way to keep talking to her.
"So what about you?" I asked into the silence. "What is someone like you doing here?"
She stopped "cleaning" and looked over at me with her eyebrows furrowed in the cutest way that made me want to squeal and hug her. Had she been my regular Miki, I would have. However, it was quickly sinking in that this girl in front of me was not the Miki I knew. Maybe it was true that everyone in the world had a twin. Maybe this was an unrelated girl?
"What do you mean someone like me?"
I shrugged.
"You don't look like the type to work in a restaurant."
She shrugged back. We did a lot of shrugging that day.
"I go to school. I have to make money somehow."
She went to school? What school? What was she studying? Why so late? She was twenty-five already. Shouldn't she have finished school by that age?
"School?" I asked.
It didn't strike me as weird to be asking someone who was supposedly a complete stranger these questions. My curiosity outweighed my social etiquette.
"Yeah. School. I'm a part time university student," she explained just as two customers walked in.
She gave me an apologetic look as she went to tend to them, give them water, taking their orders, and so on. I stared in front of me as she bustled around. She finally called for the elderly woman to help her with the cooking, and I watched amazedly as Miki chopped up meat like an expert and did all sorts of fancy things with it that my own mother couldn't even do.
This couldn't be Miki. Not my Miki. My Miki couldn't cook that well. My Miki didn't have the patience to study at university. And yet her attitude, mannerisms, and looks were exactly the same. She was laid back, not afraid to talk to strangers (which I unfortunately was to her)...
I wanted to wait until things slowed down at the restaurant, but they only got busier as more customers came in. I had to eat and get out of there, or else I'd be there all night. Frustrated with my situation, I stood up and went to pay the bill. As my poor luck would have it, Miki was off somewhere doing something, so the woman rang up my bill. I thanked her and tried to prolong my stay, but I had to eventually leave.
I stepped out of the restaurant, dejected and in a state of disbelief. I had found Miki, but everything had been out of my control. There was nothing I could do but try again later. The next day.
Or maybe I could wait until later in the evening. Maybe if I stayed outside and waited for all the customers to leave, I could go back in under the pretence of... of...
I thought hard. What sort of non-creepy excuse could I use to go back in there to see Miki again? I could pretend I'd forgotten something. The old tried and true method. I'd do that.
But I couldn't stand still and wait outside. My warm Kansai blood was starting to freeze up. I went for a long walk. For the whole time I threw out theory after theory in my head. I was certain that I had gone crazy. It had to be true. There was no way this could happen. There was no other reasonable explanation. I must have bumped my head really hard somewhere at some point and wound up in this world. Maybe like that girl in that American movie about scarecrows and lions. The name eluded me at that moment, but I could remember that the girl had travelled to a colourful world and had journeyed all around it, only to wake up back at home and find out that it had all been a dream induced by a bump on the head. The same must have been happening to me. I was dreaming and would wake up soon. Maybe Miki would wake me up and I'd be able to tell her all about this silly dream.
But I knew this wasn't true either. It felt too real. I pinched my skin. It hurt and left a white mark on my arm for a few seconds. I shoved my hands into my pockets in order to stop myself from repeatedly pinching myself to see if I'd wake up. I'd mutilate myself if I kept it up.
The streets were deserted, but I felt no danger. I kept up my brisk walk so that I'd stay warm. It lasted for an hour. I ended up back at the restaurant. I didn't want to go in because I was sure it was still full. I tried to peek in through the frosted glass of the door, but I had no luck.
Just then, I heard movement coming from the alleyway. A can was knocked over and there was the sound of rustling plastic. Alarmed, I looked to my side and took a step back. Out from the alleyway walked Miki. She was carrying two bags of trash. She noticed me immediately and let out a surprised "oh." She crossed the street, dropped the trash off in the collection area, and then came back to me. I stood there, my hands in my pockets, absolutely still.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
That was a Miki-ish thing to do. Get straight to the point.
"I, uh-"
I was going to lie and say I'd dropped my wallet somewhere, but I found I couldn't stand lying to someone who acted and looked so much like Miki.
"I wanted to say thanks," I continued. "For the meal and for the chat."
I sounded like the world's biggest moron, but was slightly comforted when she smiled.
"You're welcome, although all I did was pour water for you and annoy you by recognising you."
We stood there silently. She wiped her hands on the butt of her jeans and I crinkled my nose in distaste. She should really wash her hands after taking the trash out...
"As for your question about what a person like me is doing working at a place like this," she continued. "The answer is that it's actually a family friend's restaurant. These folks are friends with my grandparents, so they let me have a job to help me pay my way through university."
One thing that struck me odd about this girl was that she was being too open with me. The Miki I knew wouldn't talk to strangers like this. But I wasn't going to complain. If she wanted to talk to me, I wanted to listen. I wanted to know if she was the Miki I knew. Or part of her.
"What's your name?" I asked out of the blue.
"Fujimoto," she answered without blinking. "Miki."
"Nice to meet you. I'm... well, you know," I said in a defeated tone. She laughed loudly.
"Nice to meet you, Matsuura-san."
There was more silence. This silence was really getting to me.
"Miki-chan!" came a low, muffled voice. "We need some help."
It was Gramps. Miki smiled in apology for the second time that day.
"Duty calls," she said, ducking away.
"Oh, wait," I said before she went back inside.
She turned around and looked at me questioningly.
"You live in this town, right?"
"Yeah."
"Can you recommend some things around here that I can do now?" I asked, desperately trying to keep her outside for any extra time I could manage.
She thought hard.
"No," she finally said.
My face dropped.
"But if you want, I can show you some things tomorrow. That is if your schedule's not full. It's a little hard to get around this town when you don't know anything about it."
Never would I have guessed that I would hang out with this strange, otherworldly Miki. I had a feeling it was a bad idea, but I nodded.
"That would be great of you to help me. I have nothing on my schedule. At all," I assured her.
Miki studied me closely. Did she believe me? Why was she offering to hang out with me?
"Well, then. Meet me here at eleven tomorrow," she said, and without waiting for my answer, she turned on her heels and went inside the restaurant.
That evening I returned to the hotel even more frazzled than I'd been upon my arrival that morning. Nothing made sense. I had found a Miki who didn't remember me. A Miki that was almost the exact same Miki, but with some key differences.
And despite the fact that it was clear she was not the Miki I knew, I found myself helplessly and utterly nuts over her. Spellbound in the most pleasant, scary, stomach-tingling way.