12:00 AM.
Away from the bright lights in downtown Tokyo, we come upon a dark room. Barely any light penetrates through. The blinds are half-shut. Soon enough our view adjusts to this new scene, and we realize that there is a bed before us. There laying absolutely motionless is Shi Seien.
We know who this person is at first sight because he is already introduced to us. Thirty minutes later, Ran Shuuei will say that he had a beautiful face. We realize that his use of the past tense is inappropriate. He has a beautiful face. Almost as if every contour and angle was carved by a master artist to perfection. Pewter hair nestles evenly on his face. White pajamas. Hands evenly straight on both sides.
We decide to observe him more. Nothing seems to strike us as unusual. We hear the midnight breeze blowing beyond the windows. The trees rustling to its direction. Even the faint hum of cars driving through the village streets. But none of these sounds figure in to this room, or to Shi Seien.
He is silent. Silent as the grave.
We close in on him. Is he breathing? Our instincts say no, but this is easily disproven as we see a slight, yet sure rise of his chest, which descends immediately. Is he really alive? His eyelids are shut solid, his lips are pursed tight. No part of his face twitches. He is perfectly still, but it is too perfect. Apart from the minimum breathing, there is no evidence that consciousness still remains in him.
We zoom out a bit to gain an overview of the room. It is moderately spacious. A flat plasma TV is directly in front of the bed. A tall, wide shelf filled with books is beside it. To its right is a door, probably leading to the bathroom. Another door is on its right angle, likely the way out. Towards right there are three wooden cushioned chairs flanked around a mahogany table. We look harder and see there is a plate on its top – a portion of rice, salmon, vegetables. A glass of water by its side. The meal is presented well, so we conclude that it has been undisturbed. The glass is almost full.
A tall night lamp is in the corner. We turn right and come to the bedside counter. A notebook computer, a Mont Blanc pen, and a picture frame. We stare at it and see a living Shi Seien with his younger brother Ryuuki. He is smiling, a small smile, but one nonetheless. Ryuuki in contrast is beaming brightly, holding a frame with both hands containing paper with a decorative ribbon. He also wore a few medals. It must have been his high school graduation. Beside it is a digital clock, its green light declaring the time. 12:25.
We end our tour of Shi Seien's room with Shi Seien himself, lying in a bed with a classic, expensive-looking wood frame, still peaceful in his otherworldly slumber. His room doesn't tell us much about his personality – we can infer from the obvious that he is a very serious, career-driven individual. But nothing in this room gives us a clue as to how he ends up this way.
We cannot ask him the reason for this, for we are merely observers. Our countenance is like an invisible camera – zooming in and out, catching the best possible angle of every situation. Through our sight, we see everything and decide with the judgement bestowed on us from above what these things could mean. We do not intervene. We do not leave any trace behind.
A light suddenly flickers in the room. We think at first that a vehicle sporting halogen lights passed by, causing the disturbance. Light flashes again, and again, and we soon find ourselves to be mistaken. We turn and see the large plasma TV flickering. Is the wake-up timer sounding off? Highly unlikely – the remote is situated near the top shelf of the bookshelf, not anywhere near Seien. The TV continues to flash, but this doesn't seem to faze Seien's slumber at the very least.
We stare at the TV. It flickers, then static. Flicker. Static. Flicker, then suddenly, less static. Slowly, the noise fades, but the screen is still a blur. A flicker occurs again, then the blurry image remains. An image taken by day. The view sharpens slowly. It is a room, flanked by sunlight in stark contrast to the dismal one we are in. Could be a warehouse, a classroom, or a ridiculously large vacant flat. We look harder and see a figure at the center. Seated. A black fedora hat masks his face. Black trenchoat. Black slacks. Black shoes. The figure is watching the scene beyond. Based on his hand gestures, he seems to have been observing intensely. But now that he has revealed his existence, he still refuses to move. He must find the view quite interesting.
We look at the four corners of the television, trying to find an NHK, BS2, CNN, National Geographic, HBO, any logo of all channels in cable or otherwise known to man. There is none.
The screen breaks up for a split second, but comes back to same scene – a scene that looks still, but is a definite moving picture, the movements just happen to occur in the intangible. It stabilizes, fades, and resumes.
From the judgement given to us by the cosmos, we are certain that a change is coming to this room. A change that is of great significance.
