Chapter One
The post-office is thick with the smell of its abundance of paper, and the Mailman takes it all in. The sweet smell of his work, his everyday routine (aside from those dull and trivial Sundays), his pride and joy. It is all he needs, and all he will ever need. It's what brought him to his feet, and sent him off to the real world once again. After that long and dark period…
"Ah! Early as always." The receptionist segues after the brief dark thought. In one hand, she presents a pile of letters, all tied together with string. In the other, a smaller pile. He knows without thought what these two piles are, and who they're for. He knows, like it's part of his nature. The two Sohma locations; the two secluded areas – Sohma Shigure's house, and the larger closed-off area, the Sohma estate.
"I'll be off…" he says, his tone mysterious – this is what he always says to the receptionist, and yet she is still found unknown to his secrets. Who are you, mystery mailman…? The receptionist sighs that same wistful sigh as she watches the back of the Mailman as he walks out those doors, will she ever know why he seems so different to the other mailmen she comes across?
There is only one reason for that. The Sohmas.
First, he makes way to the smaller location. Sohma Shigure's home – with the two boys and that one girl. Ah, yes. But isn't there a rat, a cat, and a dog too? Of course, he could never forget the sophisticated stare of the dog that handed him the wallet that one morning, it was almost as if he was in a trance… He was so mesmerised, so intrigued, so… enthralled by that dog's stare! He longs to find that dog again! But of all his journeys to that house, his eyes have never caught sight of it ever again!
There is only one of the four that waits on the front terrace; Sohma Shigure – a man who's similar age to the Mailman, but there's something of Shigure that makes him think otherwise. Perhaps it's the cigarette affixed between his lips, or the traditional clothing that hangs loosely. But whatever it is, the Mailman feels intimidated – less wise, even. It's almost like that dog's stare…
"Something bothering you today?" The man speaks, and it takes the Mailman off-guard.
"O—oh, nothing… I mean, I'm particularly troubled…" he says, his voice dropping to a quiet whisper, "…by the past." Though the stillness of their surroundings catches these last words, as if he said this clearly.
How strange. It's not like the Mailman to be so open – especially to those he delivers his mail to! Well, the only people he delivers his mail to are the Sohmas… but still! He finds himself taken aback by his own words, and suddenly, he's lying along one of those long chairs – like in those therapist's offices, and as he looks up… Shigure in a suit, sitting in a chair beside him with a clipboard and pen?! What just happened?!
Has he just been pulled into another trance?
"Tell me, Mailman. If that is your true name!" Shigure bellows, as if his voice had become myriads of different demonic-sounding voices, and the Mailman's ear rings for at least ten minutes.
When his sight and hearing adjusts to normal once again, Shigure is now crimson-skinned with thorns at his temples.
"Now… let me start again. Tell me, what is your past? How did you get this far? To succeed as… a mail man?"
"Now, Shigure… That is a very good question. But it started long ago, on a late-winter's night, and spring was soon to arrive at the door, with cherry blossom trees and such to be delivered… I was merely a man back then, not yet a mailman."