This story represents an exception in a lot of ways. For starters it was written as a surprise project during NaNoWriMo 2015, although I tend to stick to my original plans when it comes to NaNoWriMo. And this is a dated story, taking place (mostly) on the dates I wrote the actual story itself. And therefore, although I strongly prefer to let stories sit for a while after writing them so I can be fresher and more objective when I edit, I'm rushing to get this one released. Hopefully I'll be able to stick to the schedule exactly – this is actually in honor of Fuji's birthday 2016, since we have a February 29th this year.
This story's title was the bane of my existence for the last few weeks. I tend to have at least a working title for every project. This story's working title was "Untitled," which tells you just how much trouble I had coming up with any sort of title at all. And after about three dozens of words I considered, and half a dozen title candidates that were really out there, I'm back to the most unimaginative title possible, for which I barely survived my beta's wrath. This is probably going to be one of those stories whose title I dislike but can't think of anything better either.
The story was written from November 9, 2015 to November 16, 2015. The first chapter takes place on Tuesday, November 10, 2015. The last chapter takes place on Monday, November 16, 2015.
Thanks for reading!
One Week
[Released Tuesday, January 19, 2016]
Chapter 1. Tuesday
Fuji Syuusuke considers himself a reasonably easygoing person. He's always had a good grasp of common sense and logic, and while imaginative, he doesn't often allow his flights of fancy to get away from him. Which is why, when he finds himself face to face with a floating feetless apparition that unceremoniously appears in his kitchen on Tuesday, he feels justified in feeling – just a little bit – put upon.
"Well," Fuji says, conversational. "This is awkward."
"What is this place?" demands the apparition. "How did I get here?"
Rather imperious for someone who is intruding, supernatural affiliation or no, Fuji thinks. Still, if one found himself a disembodied spirit in someone else's kitchen with no recollection of how any of this came to be, Fuji supposes one could be forgiven some impatience. So he says helpfully, "You're in my kitchen." That doesn't seem to reassure the apparition very much, so he adds, "In an apartment in Tokyo, twenty minutes' walk from the Shinjuku Station. What's the last thing you remember?"
The apparition frowns. "I..." With an impatient shake of his head, the apparition pins him with a sharp brown gaze. "What day is it today?"
"November 10, 2015. Tuesday..." Fuji pauses to look at the kitchen clock. "...Seven forty-two in the morning. What brings you here, anyway?"
The frown deepens. "I don't know." Then, after a pause, the apparition asks, more hesitantly: "Who are you?"
Fuji ignores that question. "Do you at least remember who you are?"
This time, the pause is longer. "No."
"Great," Fuji sighs. "Look, I have to get to work. If you're still around when I get home, we'll sort this out then. Have a good day."
Before the apparition can protest, he walks out of the kitchen and heads straight to the bathroom. What little appetite he'd had this morning is gone, and he really is running behind the schedule now. He lets the water run for five seconds and steps under the spray.
"It's not fair of you to haunt me of all people, anyway," Fuji murmurs, and reaches for the shampoo.
The workday is long and terrible, even by his standards. By the time Fuji gets home, he is in no fit mood to deal with impertinent interlopers, disincorporated or otherwise.
The apparition looks exactly as it had in the morning, although before Fuji flips on the kitchen light, it looks almost solid in the darkness. Still no feet, however; Fuji swallows a sigh and switches on the light.
Under the glare of the overhead light, the apparition looks more faded. Or maybe it's the slightly sheepish expression the apparition wears. "I can't seem to leave," it offers.
"The kitchen? Or my apartment?" Fuji tosses over his shoulder as he opens the refrigerator.
"The kitchen," it clarifies, and the mixture of wariness and resignation makes Fuji turn around and face it. "I seem to be bound to this place." Then, the piercing regard in the brown eyes returns in full force. "I know you."
It is not a quite a question. But it isn't interrogation, either. Fuji sighs, and relents. "For you to have ended up here of all places, the experience must have been traumatic. Though, if you were going for an old acquaintance, I'm sure there were better choices."
"I came here for a reason."
"How did you arrive at that conclusion?" Fuji isn't actually all that curious. But it's kind of fun watching the apparition off-balance. And it is off balance. He can tell.
"I'm a..." A slight pause, almost unnoticeable, then the apparition continues. "...Disembodied spirit. Spirits don't haunt random places. Did I die here?"
"What? No!" Fuji is actually startled enough that his answer is completely honest and unfiltered. "For your information, we haven't even seen each other for the last ten years. So no, whatever happened to you, it had nothing to do with me."
The apparition actually looks pleased. "I thought so. If I had, this place would have more negative feelings associated to it." It looks around the kitchen with a distinct air of having done it dozens of times. "It doesn't feel repulsive, to be here. I think I have a good reason to come here."
He hasn't had nearly enough tea to deal with inquisitive but analytical unearthly intruders, Fuji decides, and makes himself a pot of soothing chamomile. With honey. It's one of his particular favorites that his mother used to make for him. The apparition watches him in silence, and waits politely (for a spirit) until he finishes the first cup.
"Green tea. I think I prefer that."
Fuji raises an eyebrow at the comment. "I'd offer you some, but I don't think you're exactly in condition to enjoy it."
"No." The apparition doesn't quite lean on the counter, but stands (floats?) close enough so its pose looks deceptively casual. "You know me."
"In the literal sense? Or as in a personal acquaintance?" Fuji smiles, but knows it isn't a nice one. "Or in the Biblical sense?"
The apparition remains annoyingly unperturbed. "You already said old acquaintance, so the first two are presumably correct. I don't remember anything, so even if you were to tell me the last is also true, I wouldn't have a way to confirm."
Fuji laughs despite himself. "You know, I think most spirits in your position would be more curious about themselves than you are."
The apparition considers it. "Am I very different from the person you know – knew?"
"No," Fuji admits. The way the apparition corrected itself – it makes everything seem final. Irrevocable. "I would have preferred never to know you this way, I think."
There is a tiny quirk of mouth that might pass for a smile. "Is that your way of saying you regret my fate?"
Fuji finds himself on his feet before he quite realizes it. "You know what? I just had a rather long and terrible day at work. I think I'll turn in early."
"If you say."
There is no discernible hint of accusation or even irony in the calm voice. But that makes him even more irritated. "Look, I don't owe you any answers," he snaps.
"No, you don't." The apparition doesn't sigh, because the person it was before – he never would have. He was never that transparent about his feelings. "I cannot leave this place. And I've tried." Fuji takes in a quick breath. He knows it's telling the truth. It probably tried all day, unceasing, untiring, just as it would have in life. "For what it's worth, I apologize for imposing. Good night."
Fuji releases the breath he didn't realize he was holding. And with it, he feels both the tension and the irritation drain away. For an irrational moment he wishes he could hold on to the irritation, but dismisses the thought. "Fuji," he says softly. "My name is Fuji."
"Fuji," it repeats. "Thank you. I would return the courtesy if I could."
Fuji cannot help another short laugh. "Ask me tomorrow."
"And you will answer?"
"Maybe," Fuji replies, and the smile he feels tugging at his lips feels genuine for the first time since the morning.
"I thought so." The apparition doesn't sound terribly vexed. "Good night, Fuji."
"Good night."
End Note: Any and all resemblance to a certain song of the same title...is totally all in your head. :P Also, please note I have no earthly CLUE on actual geography of Japan period, let alone detailed one of Shinjuku area. Let's all pretend it makes sense somehow, yes?
