My dear sister Isa,

Until I receive tangible evidence of your existence, I shall be inclined to doubt that you are real. But, if you are, then I feel sorry for you. There is much in this modern world that you could never imagine, like telephones which allow the user to communicate over long distances, televisions that display bizarre little stage plays, and exquisite meals which can be enjoyed by people of all social stations.

I can assure you that being a court lady for the Goddess of Death could never compare, so I will say this. Come up here and meet me face to face. Stop hiding in the shadows like a cow-

******

"Ichiro," Kumiko cut in while taking her pen off the page and glancing up at him. "Are you sure about that last part? It sounds like you're challenging her to a fight."

Ichiro rubbed the back of his head with a sigh. He wanted to taunt his sister into revealing herself, but perhaps his words were too aggressive. Still, he was growing frustrated with the lack of news since Yukari's fight with Hideo, and he wondered if it was right to blame his new friend.

Kumiko rose from her chair, sensing his discontent. She reached out to hold his hands. "It's okay, we'll just continue this another time. There's already enough for us to worry about." Her clear and sympathetic eyes caught his attention, but only did so much to calm his nerves.

"I just want to know if it's all real," Ichiro muttered. "Is that too much to ask for?"

"Not at all." Kumiko let go of him and crept towards their bed. "It's just that stressing out like this isn't good for either of us. We should expend our energy another way..."

"Huh?"

Kumiko smiled seductively. "You know what I mean. Come on..."

"All right..." Ichiro removed his sweater with much less difficulty than his first time. He couldn't avoid letting his mind wander, but he would try his best to keep Kumiko satisfied as always. He approached the bed while fumbling with the hem of his shirt.

I'm sorry, mother and father. You'd want me to find Isa, so I promise to do that once I've dealt with everything else...

******

Wednesday morning arrived, causing Ichiro to dread the appointment with Mrs. Konno's friend Izumi. Not even a warm shower could relieve him, and he ate his breakfast in low spirits while making minimal eye contact with Kumiko.

His conscience urged him to pay attention to her like a decent husband, yet there was still too much weighing on his mind for him to try. He realized that the initial excitement of reuniting with Kumiko must have worn off, and the only thing left now was mundane routine with the occasional chance to prove himself in the bedroom.

They headed out at nine o'clock in their winter coats, since spring had only just begun, and the weather had yet to warm up. Ichiro felt a certain comfort in knowing that while the average city had changed beyond recognition, the four seasons remained much the same. If his guess was correct, cherry blossoms would start to bloom soon, and he would be able to see them with Kumiko if they were lucky.

He envisioned a picturesque scene in which she stood waiting for him beneath a fragrant cherry tree, her soft hair shining in the sunlight as petals landed upon her dazzling red kimono.

What a beautiful sight that would be, Ichiro thought wistfully before confronting the reality in front of him. Kumiko looked lovely as always, but she simply didn't enchant him to the same degree anymore.

A glance around at his soulless surroundings told Ichiro everything. This world had lost its heart, and his wife was just another casualty. He clenched his fists and glared at the dull brown jacket he'd had no choice but to wear. He couldn't allow himself to fall from grace as well, but that was getting more difficult with each passing day. The so-called television and radio held a potent magnetism that threatened to enslave him if he wasn't careful, so he wondered if destroying them for good would be the solution.

"Ichiro," Kumiko called out, pulling him back to reality. "The bus is coming."

Ichiro choked in surprise. "The bus?"

"Yes. Right over there..."

He let his gaze follow her pointing finger. Repulsion flooded through his mind and stomach at the sight of the wheeled monstrosity hurtling towards them. He wanted to run as far away as possible, but Kumiko grabbed his arm and prevented him from taking more than a step. "Relax. There's a first time for everything..."

"No! Let me go!"

The bus slowed to a stop at the curb and opened up its glass doors. Ichiro felt himself dragged up the steps despite his struggles, then nudged into what was perhaps the most uncomfortable seat he had ever been in. "Unhand me right now!" he protested, giving one last push against Kumiko's firm grip.

"Ichiro, calm down. People are staring at us."

"What?" Ichiro stared into Kumiko's frantic eyes right before the bus sped away from the curb and caused the front of her body to slam into his. He gasped for air as she rolled away from his lap to sit beside him, finding the vehicle to be going much too fast for his liking.

"We have to slow down... gah!" The bus came to a sudden stop so that more people could come on board. Ichiro lurched forward while feeling the onset of nausea. He squeezed Kumiko's arm and took several deep breaths to combat the affliction.

"Ichiro?" Kumiko whispered in concern.

"I... I can't take this anymore..." He retched into his hand, and Kumiko fortunately responded by pressing a nearby button. A ring sounded from above and the driver let them depart at the next stop. The fresh air outside allowed Ichiro's nausea to abate, though he eventually found himself fraught with guilt at having inconvenienced Kumiko. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I wish I wasn't such a burden..."

"No, you're not," Kumiko refuted, nudging Ichiro in the back to drive him forward. "We'll just walk the rest of the way. If we arrive late, then so be it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'll tell them that you have motion sickness. It's the truth, after all."

"What's motion sickness?"

"It's like seasickness, but more broad."

"I see." Ichiro glared at a pale blue car that was parked near the footpath. "I suppose it makes sense with all the new forms of transport..."

Kumiko simply nodded and gave a hum of agreement while leading the way. After some time, she turned to look back at him with a proud smile on her face. "You know, I've just thought of a solution."

"Pray tell."

"There's a two-wheeled vehicle that's called a bike. It's difficult to ride, but I think it'll serve as a stepping-stone for you to get used to cars."

Ichiro tried his best to imagine such a contraption and wondered how it could be functionally possible, since a carriage with anything short of four wheels was bound to veer off the road and topple over. He placed his thumb and index finger against his chin in deep thought. "Please explain to me how it works."

Kumiko slowed down to make eye contact with him. "Well, it comes with a saddle, not too different from the ones used on horses. You sit and push your feet against two pedals to move the bike forward, but the real challenge comes with staying balanced. It can take several falls before someone finds the right equilibrium."

"So, it's like riding a mechanical horse," Ichiro remarked in an attempt to sound brave.

"You could say that's a good comparison."

Ichiro swallowed. "Thank you for having my best interests in mind, but I'll have to see it for myself first."

"Fair enough. I'll find a time after today..." Kumiko's voice wavered as if she was unsure of herself. "If we both make it, that is..."

******

An eerie silence greeted them when they entered Izumi's store and observed the shelves filled with lip rouge sticks of varying colors. Like with many other present-day developments, Ichiro was astounded that women had become finicky enough to warrant so many choices, since bright red lips had been the height of beauty for centuries prior to his birth.

"Is there any point to this?" he asked to fill the silence while Kumiko scanned the wares on display. "It's so excessive..."

"I know, but beauty standards have changed. I personally think mauve suits me better..."

Ichiro gave a surprised blink. "What?"

The quiet shuffling of feet sounded from behind the shelf. They both looked up, and Ichiro spotted a head of short black hair in the next aisle.

"Hello?" he said, prompting the shop assistant to straighten up and reveal her face. She appeared no older than twenty, and her eyes were moist with tears. Ichiro wondered if she had been crying.

"Good morning," the shop assistant murmured between hiccups while walking around to meet them. She dried her eyes with the back of her hands. "You must be the couple Mrs. Fukuzawa told me about..."

"Why, yes, that's us," Kumiko answered. "Is Mrs. Fukuzawa the manager of this place?"

The shop assistant nodded. "I... I'll get her for you. Just wait a minute..." She hurried towards the curtained door at the back of the store, leaving Ichiro and Kumiko to turn to each other in concern.

"You noticed her expression, right?"

"Of course," Ichiro admitted, sticking both hands into his trouser pockets. "Is it normal for shop workers to be this distraught?"

"Not at all. Something's wrong here..."

The shop assistant emerged from the curtain door with none other than Izumi in tow. Even as someone who had only met the woman for dinner, Ichiro could sense a change in her demeanor. It seemed like her confidence had been replaced by haughtiness and the irritation in her eyes suggested that she found their presence to be a nuisance more than anything.

"What are you two doing here so late?" Izumi questioned scathingly as she tapped her heeled shoe against the white tiled floor. "We agreed on ten o'clock, didn't we?"

"Our apologies." Kumiko bowed to show her remorse and slipped into their usual pretense. "My boyfriend gets carsick often, and as you know, we cannot help you without his skills as a medium..."

Izumi gave an uncomfortable grimace that made Ichiro even more confused. He extended his hand to repeat the greeting that he had learned in the izakaya last week. "Is everything all right, Mrs. Fukuzawa? I can assure you that I'm trustworthy..."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Izumi said as her expression quickly smoothed over, and she shook his hand in response. "You see, I have a friend staying in my house, and I don't want them to be hurt by your actions..."

"What makes you think we would do that?"

"Just a feeling," Izumi replied, striding forward and forcing them apart in an apparent determination to get things over and done with. "But that's a silly little trifle. Come along and I'll show you the way to my abode. It's only a block away..."