Day One
Hands, sun soaked and loose from gripping the steering wheel all day, steadily smoothed back and forth over its worn leather. Shaded hazel eyes searching languidly swept across the dry ungraded road for their expected turn-off. Chalk-like dust swirl whirlpools in his rear-view mirror.
The sun, now low, painted warm red and orange across the gentle hills and valleys of Touka's sleeping form across from Ken in the passenger seat.
Sakamoto Kyu crooned over their subdued radio.
Gentle sighs and coos hushed from the centre booster seat; his daughter sleeping in a nest of softness.
Sighting and turning into their assigned lot, his whistled along with Sakamoto.
Day two
Ken sat deeply in his camp chair; his mind blank as soft wind feathered through his hair. Their electric heater hummed reassuringly at his feet.
Touka had called it goose hair that morning.
She was stood over their camp stove, cast in a cozy glow from the string lights they set up on arrival. The scent of synthetic 'steak' flowering like sweet fruit ladened vines through the campground.
Ichika was in his lap trying to determine the nature of the wooden puzzle he'd given her, rugged and near swaddled in her parker and blanket. When she gave up, her head thudded into his chest – her blue eyes searching for a new distraction.
Light bugs silently flew above pulling his and her gaze further into the night, past the treeline and the nearby mountain. They could even see some stars peeking through.
"Why is it so pretty?" Ichika mumbled.
Day three
Touka rolled into wakefulness slowly, her arms reaching out in a stretch for that point of nirvana and upon its rediscovery, they held the stretch as she beamed.
Where she lay half curled into her husband – Ichika atop his chest – she silently made note of what had become her favourite sight of this trip.
Powder red in the morning rays, made opaque in the rising sun, their tent was bathed in endless light. She'd never seen light like this. Knowing now that in the world hid forms of light she'd never seen, never even considered?
She took a deep breath, fighting as she had each morning, to hold this sight in her mind.
Day four
A sponge carpet of pine needles covered the trail. It cushioned their soles and absorbed the sounds of their footsteps through the park's foothills. Ichika steps quick even when stumbling to follow her mother, the two linked hand to hand. Both of their faces reflecting honest concentration.
Ken watches as the two boulder what must be the trails tenth, rather large, rock, Touka's movements graceful as flowing water while Ichika relied more on her ghoulish strength. He couldn't help but chuckle at how serious his kid seemed squirming up and over the obstacle.
Her declaration of success: "Whoah", followed by the heaviest sigh the three-year-old could manage.
Ken 'hmed' an affirmation.
Day five
Touka stretched up, arching her back with the aid of their car's boot, watching Ken pack away their red tent into its respective bags. Ichika watched alongside her, with a hand fisted into her mother's baggy cargo jeans.
The tent was their last item to pack up before the drive home. She moved to close the boot and secure Ichika as Ken approached the driver's side.
With moss green land flashing passed her window and slow thoughts occupying her mind much like they had when she was a high school student unable to study, she found herself returned to a loose way of being, barely tethered but for the occasional conversation, explanation, or toilet brake. Her eyes couldn't fight to stay open while they drove.
Ken, however, was panicking.
See, at this point they'd been driving for six and a half hours – they'd just entered the outermost regions of Tokyo; just entered their neighbourhood. They should be home now. He just drove down their street now.
Expect where their home had been, was now a field. An empty field. An empty field without even a driveway.
He glared intently at the rather offensive sight, checking for the twelfth time that this was the correct property. It was. And it wasn't. Afterall, he and Touka had only just finished shovelling out the driveways gravel last month.
And now there wasn't even a house.
On waking, Touka took the news well. Ken rationalised that she had the right of it. He'd missed a turn, or perhaps this was a duplicate property. Or something. They kept their eyes peeled as they drove around the outskirts of their town, looking for something to indicate their mistake, but as the sun began setting and Ichika began asking about dinner and home they had to pull into a restaurant for a meal. Rather, a meal for Ichika.
And while their daughter was delighted to have sweet fruit juice, katsudon, and even daifuku mochi, they quietly panicked.
The TV was reporting on decade old news as if it were current affairs.
A newspaper on the bar had the wrong day, month, and year printed.
And serving alcohol behind the bar, was an alive, if rather young, Koma Enji: The Devil Ape.
"It's not possible."
"No, it's not."
"We shouldn't even consider it – it would just distract from whatever is actually happening."
"Your right. We could waste time."
"Hm. Literally imposable. Paradoxical. Ridiculous even."
"Right"
"…"
"…"
"…"
"I think we're eighteen years in the past?"
Touka glared at Ken.
