- The Beginning -

For the next few weeks, it was largely the same. I had found a cheap hostel that's more like a house with a cramped damp, moldy smelling room to stay in, far in the outskirts of the city. It's a kind of quiet, homely place that speaks of poverty more than comfort. Most people wouldn't realize there's a hostel on the street because it is so out of the way.

I wake up in the mornings at seven thirty, listen to jazz, do exercises and head down to the common room. A fourteen year-old girl and her mother who runs the place would prepare breakfast for the guests. On some days it would be a simple English breakfast and others maybe rice porridge, salted mackerel, omelet. The hostel only had four other guests and half of them would sleep in or stay out often. Two of them were foreign students on exchange from Canada studying international relations. The other two were local businessmen on a budget. On occasions, we would try to converse in English if we had a chance. But for the most part, it was an exchange of greetings before rushing out for the rest of the day.

On the news at night, there was a constant mention of new demonstrations led by the Cause. The major stations of the JR Yamanote train line had been occupied at one time for seemingly no purpose. Tokyo, Shibuya, Shinjuku, Ikebukuro, Akihabara. When the police intervened, there was a violent clash resulting in injuries and two deaths. At this point, the government was to make a statement and issued a stricter policy against aggressive protests. However, it was also a backhanded strike on the anti-Cause opposition who had learn to become more outspoken and assertive themselves. The cases didn't stop there however. In fact it grew worse. It scattered activity into random acts of violence and harassment. There were propagandist posters and hacking all over the city and the internet. One high school girl was reportedly raped and beaten by nine boys dressed in the attire of the Cause. She committed suicide not too long after. They were arrested and discovered to have no real relation with the movement, which began to reveal another surfacing issue of what or who was authentic. There doesn't seem to be any official leadership over the Cause that could make any claims or maintain any stances. Their membership seemed to grow exponentially, yet no one knows for sure what their ideals or objectives are. Each individual or faction would essentially do whatever they saw fit. And no one really cared. Sure, there might be a deep nauseating feeling in the gut when something incredibly wrong occurs but as long as they weren't caught up in the middle of a scene, they would be fine. Worse, I didn't care either. They had a cycle and stability to maintain. So did I.

Perhaps it was because I had my own share of tiresome things to worry about. I had quit my old part time job already, so savings dwindled like a dish of water left out in the scorching sun. For some reason, in terms of searching for a new job, I was out of luck – nothing seemed to be hiring. The market had suddenly dried up and shut its doors. It could be the fear of accidentally hiring members of the Cause. But members of the Cause probably wouldn't go undercover, without their rigid ironed suits.

Every day, I continue to await new messages arriving or a call or something, but nothing came. My phone was entirely silent. No sign of the Fox. I got on the internet a few times, searching and browsing social media websites, finding nothing. Our picture had long since disappeared and I wasn't about to dig around for it again. Soon, New Year's had passed with the Kouhaku and without Shizuka and January was almost over. On the trees, flowers were beginning to bloom. They bloomed slow and arduous, like they were struggling against some unseen force. It was still much too cold but there they were, blooming. Of course no one else could notice it but me.

Shirayuki was still there right beside me, sometimes wandering off to look at something but always back to pipe in and make snarky comments. Those, I ignore in the presence of others. She wanted to befriend the fourteen year old girl, but there was no way for her to communicate. At times, I had to ask a few questions on her behalf, which proved to be awkward.

On the other hand, Shirayuki was a blatant reminder that Shizuka was still missing. With Shizuka, were the pictures we had taken. I began to forget her face, how she felt and how she sounded like. The same dream happened a few more times and I woke up soaked in sweat, but there had been no new developments. We never finished what we started, and she never grew any clearer. As the days wore on, rather than losing feeling though, my chest grew heavier and more painful, and I found it difficult to breathe every now and then. But even so, I was filled with more hope than before. The pain nudged me onward. I preferred this pain than despair and emptiness. I endeavoured to recall Shizuka every day, as a daily exercise. If the flowers could bloom, so could I. There was sure to be a way out.

The last week of January was when I finally came to a realization that there must be something I could be doing. Something was better than nothing. I wasn't sure whether it was my newfound awareness of cyclic repetition and Etiquette but each passing routine no longer gave any comfort. Stability gave me no security. It felt like I was in the eye of the storm, not knowing when the rest of it would overtake me, swallowing me up whole. It was like the ring of a hammer and nail in my head. The ticking of time. Each day the nail would be driven deeper into my skull. All the while there was no anesthetic.

I began with the realization that I never had any true active interest in why Shirayuki was here. There must be a reason she was here, a purpose to fulfill, as she had said. I was too focused on Shizuka and my own plight. The answer might not be given without prior searching.

So on a Saturday we head to the public library out in Minato Ward. It is a large and old one, run by the municipal government. Along the way I once again feel the familiar sensation that I was being watched. They are curious, observing and watching my every step. So I let them. I brush off the feeling, and no longer run away. I will do what I have to do and then get out.

In front of the library, a series of trees line up and they are showered with little pink blossoms here and there. Blossoms that should only appear in April.

We stand there and look at it for a while.

"You see them too?" There's an old woman beside me, wrinkly and bent, a purple hat on her head.

"The blossoms?"

She nods and smiles. "Strange things are happening."

"Yes, strange things are," I say as I open the door for her.

Shirayuki says nothing but quietly follows behind.

The library is enormous, soaring up with several floors, marked by glass divisions and furnished with polished hardwood. It's all at once sleek and modern, but held the aura of an ancient Japanese temple.

From our viewpoint we can make out the stacks: rows and rows of books, lit by a heavenly golden light. It seems to filter down from the ceiling through the skylights but also from other unintelligible sources.

There aren't a lot of people, not surprisingly. People don't really read these days. Some seniors and families sit at tables absorbed in newspapers and periodicals, and children play on computers. College kids have occupied most of the cubicles and are quietly studying away. Because the library is so massive, sound reverberates through the air even more gently than at the university. It sounds like the quiet whisper of spring showers in the distance.

At the base of the library, I realize I don't know where to start. What on earth am I doing here? I ask myself. Perhaps it is a natural tendency that draws me to books that brought me here.

"What are we here for?" She asks the question for me.

I keep my voice low enough that no one else can hear. "I don't know; to read."

"We've been reading a lot already. Why this library? You're looking for something aren't you?" She adjusts her glasses.

"Maybe you can help me out."

"Sometimes it's like my head isn't fully here but I can pick out some blurry ideas. So you've decided you want to start with me. Good choice really, we should've done this a long time ago. I wonder why we didn't."

"All answers can be found in books." I quote from somewhere. "Do you know your full name?"

"You're going to run a search on me." She laughs. "What a creeper!" Fortunately, no one else can hear her.

"Shirayuki," she pauses, as if she has to think. I wait. "Maybe it was something like Kozue," she says after a long while. "I think that's my first name."

I head to the computer lab and sit down in front of one. It's a state of the art PC, screen sweltering with crisp resolution and millions of pixels. Hundreds of these computers are planted like rows of trees in an orchard throughout the grand hall. Above, the ceiling seems to have no end, soaring up and up. Shirayuki sits down at another beside me. I see her playing around with the computer, but to someone else, I doubt they would be able to see anything. No one glances at us, but I feel eyes on me still. Someone somewhere is watching, is what they're trying to tell me. Don't step out of line. I ignore them and navigate to the browser, and on Mixi, Facebook, Twitter, Ameba, I type in Kozue Shirayuki. I give each ample time. Of course, as expected, I find nothing. I hadn't expected anything to be easy. It's only going to get increasingly difficult. Thousands of accounts flood the screen, display pictures, usernames, descriptions, half of them aren't even real photos. Many prefer to hide behind borrowed images. Which is clever, but how many borrow images because they have no true personal identity of their own? Out of them all, there is not a single Kozue Shirayuki. Next I use a few search engines to look for her name. Other than a few singers and voice actresses named Kozue, there's nothing else. Shirayuki on the other hand, brings up various anime characters and pseudonyms. Come to think of it, it had never been a real last name, had it?

"You're probably not going to find anything," she says.

Is Shirayuki your real last name? I type onto the screen. It is much too quiet to speak.

"I don't know."

There are many things you don't know.

"And also many things I know. You're not going to find anything like that. You ought to start with something you know already, something that is much closer to you."

If you know something why can't you just tell me what it is.

"Well, I know some things and at the same time I don't. You've wrenched me from some place I belong so I have only half my wits. I can get the vibe or feeling of something but not really hard facts and illustrations. So take what you can get, you know?"

I nod. Something I know already huh, I type. She smiles.