Reality is comprised of three attributes-
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The mortal plane, where all the physical concepts humans know can be distinguished through their basic senses.
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The spiritual realm, which goes beyond what people normally perceive as it relates to one’s soul; which holds no physical properties but is as palpable as it is influential to an individual’s individuality.
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And the metaphysical, a dimension filled with concepts, elements, and other wonders that surpasses our level of comprehension but serves as the ultimate connector.
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Of all of them, the average life in the living world is most conscious of the events on the mortal plane for its simplicity to understand compared to others. Only a minuscule amount of the spiritual realm is truly grasped in any sense during a lifetime, and by definition, aspects of the metaphysical are inconceivable.
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Horrendous! Two-thirds of what makes up reality, mired in unawareness and ignorance. No solace could be taken in our knowledge of the mortal plane either, as there are still many properties we’ve yet to realize or want to accept. Simply, horrendous.
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With an imbalance of this disproportionate chaos, disaster, confusion, and tragedy commonly occur.
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Yet, there’s a plane of existence where this trio of attributes has equal opportunity to be perceived and understood by those who inhabit it.
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A whole new world, ripe for the utilization of people connecting to all aspects of their existence.
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Traveling through this different analogous world was a Masked Wanderer, dressed in black with a red and gold cape coat.
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The field she was walking on was quiet and barren, not an uncommon kind of scenery but isn’t the only one. From her travels, she has encountered variations of many lands from deserts to grassland, mountains to forests, and a slew of other environments that are in flux with each other.
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While traveling, The Masked Wanderer went unbothered until she suddenly snapped her head toward a certain direction as if something caught her attention. Though her eyes weren’t visible behind the mask, the way her head was moving showed she was trailing something in the air but nothing new from her surrounding had appeared. Regardless, she went off full speed in that direction.
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For a while, The Masked Wanderer ran in a direction with no clear road until finally, she came across a devastated farm estate. Scouting the area, she saw how tarnished this land farm was. From the irregular marks and debris, this estate wasn’t abandoned but attacked; recently judging from how fresh the tracks were.
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The ground shook and a loud shout came from one of the partly destroyed buildings causing The Wanderer to rush over. Right as she was arriving, a woman carrying a young boy came running out, in a hurry the mother tripped and tumbled onto the ground.
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“Help, somebody, help,” weakly groaned the woman on the floor, slowly recovering from the fall. She already seemed weary from her tattered clothes and bruises.
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The Masked Wanderer came over to help, which caused the woman to jump up from the ground, grabbing one of The Wanderer’s hands. A move made purely out of her intense distress as she quickly became terrified seeing the masked face off this stranger. The long white horns sticking out from the temples and empty black eye sockets were frightening for the stressful situation the woman was in.
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‘A-another monster?’ the woman immediately thought, her body screamed for her to try running away. With everything she was currently dealing with, another potential threat was a nightmare scenario for her.
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But something felt different.
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Aside from the superficial physical reaction to seeing the mask, something deeper told another story. Holding this wanderer’s hand in her own made the woman sense not animosity or malice but warmth; the feeling of being able to ask for help.
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With shaking arms and tears streaming down the poor woman’s face, she gave a trembling cry, “M-monster! My, m-my husband! He- oh god! Please, my husband needs help in there!”
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A bellowing roar came from inside the building, the cracking of wood quickly followed as some beast was ravaging inside of there.
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The Wanderer looked down at the young boy who wasn’t conscious before turning her attention back to the older woman.
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Still breathless, the woman continued to beg, “Please, please, please! I don’t know what to do.”
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Seeing the desperate look in the woman’s eyes, The Wanderer returned the firm grip on her hand as a gesture. Exchanging no words, the woman felt assured her plea would be answered, convincing her to release The Wanderer’s hand so they could act.
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While The Masked Wanderer stepped toward the building, the haggard woman quickly attended to the unconscious boy, moving him out the way from the soon-to-be danger zone.
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Another booming noise erupted as the echoes of destruction increased, signaling the coming threat was drawing near. Preparing herself, The Wanderer got into a ready stance for whatever was heading her way.
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For a moment, the noise stopped and all was calm. But no one felt safe as danger could still be sensed.
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From the openings in the house made by the damages, a wicked aura was felt when big yellow eyes with thin pupils appeared from the shade, being the illuminating source in the darkness. It gave way for only its giant mouth filled with jagged teeth that rip apart bodies to accompany the eyes, shown in all its glory.
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A frown appeared on The Wanderer’s face, upset at the sight.
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With a wave, she opened up her cape coat showing off the rest of her black attire. Wrapped around her waist were what looked like chains but they weren’t made of metal or any normal material one usually associates the object with. The way it gleamed white with a thick red outline made it seem mythical in appearance.
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Reaching behind herself, The Wanderer pulled out a weapon. A rather unique spear, quite thin, almost like a javelin. With how sharp the top portion was, many would see it as wielding a giant needle. Ready to pierce any through the core of any creature.
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The monster residing inside the house snarled seeing this, letting out a deep growl and baring its fangs. Truly an unhinged beast.
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Calmly approaching, The Wanderer’s expression remained stern, showing no signs of pleasure as the battle ensued.
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She couldn’t get enjoyment from this even if she tried, not this time.
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A great tragedy had occurred, one of many like it.
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“Can I die already?”
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That was what a tired-eyed man in his early twenties was thinking when he looked down at his buzzing phone. It was chiming the instrumentals from one of his favorite jazz songs, which was meant to bring some form of relaxing and cheerful feeling from the familiarity yet he felt nothing but grief from the tune. This wasn’t his usual ringtone, it was a specialized ringtone assigned to a specific number for the sole purpose of making him feel less miserable whenever that number called; it didn’t work, not even a tiny bit.
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There was a waterfall pouring temptation into the young adult to ignore it for his mental health but something more powerful, concretely embedded deep into his core compelled him to answer it. This was his life’s work after all.
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‘Not like there’s anything better to do right now,’ he thought to himself, making his way through the train station. Taking out his phone, he gave a quick look of disgust at it and with a hesitant thumb accepted the call, “Hello? This is Shikata.”
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“Mr. Shikata, can we meet today!?” a panicked voice shouted from his phone.
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Shikata felt like his phone shook from the noise, thank goodness his phone wasn’t right by his ear, or else he would have hearing problems by now. He calmly replies to his caller, ”Yes. What’s the matter?”
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...
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The proceeding phone call didn’t last long. On the bright side, everything went exactly as he expected and the conversation went smoothly without any hiccups. At the other end of the spectrum, the call went exactly as he expected and now he was dreading the impending event he has to go to today.
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Putting away his phone, the young man sighed before finding himself at his desired terminal. With his train having not arrived yet, Shikata figured he’ll be here for a while. Lady Luck had given him a piece of her kind favor as he immediately spotted an open spot on a nearby bench. The amber-eyed man was surprised to find one so quickly, the station was quite populated today and the benches are usually taken by now.
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“I’m surprised these are free, there are quite a lot of people here today,” Shikata thought, settling himself down on the wooden bench. It felt nice being able to sit down and relax instead of standing for a dubious amount of time waiting for your train to arrive, he only wished it was this nice after work where it mattered more, “Not that I’m complaining. Now I can grieve in comfort.”
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From his satchel, Shikata pulled out a melon bun and went through the news on his phone to see what was happening in the world. He needed to be relatively updated on what’s happening in case any information could be relevant to his work.
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“Let’s see what we got today?” he told himself as he started scrolling, “Someone got brutally murdered and the police don’t know who did it yet, that’s assuring for when I’m out at night alone. Another politician got exposed for corruption and manipulation, doubt he’s going to get proper punishment for it. The country’s debt is continuously rising and inflation doesn’t seem to be stopping any time soon; business as usual I see. What else is there?... Hey, isn’t this the fifth celebrity getting in trouble this week? Wait, I know this guy, used to love his movies when I was a kid! I wonder what he did-..... And there goes another piece of my childhood.”
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Eventually, Shikata had to put down his phone, that was enough news for today. Brushing his dark brunet hair, he stared absently into space with his amber eyes, only a single thought coursing through his mind.
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“Wow, the world is sucking today more than usual.”
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His day already had an impending encounter of grievance coming, he didn’t need anything else darkening his day. It was spoiling his hunger and he couldn’t bring himself to eat his bun yet.
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“I need to lighten my mood or else the rest of today will be the end of me,” Shikata sighed out loud and began reaching into his bag. Eventually, Shikata took out the newspaper he brought for the local news, hoping for something heartwarming to appear.
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As he searched, the amber-eyed man heard a gravelly voice muttering to him, “I doubt that’ll do much good.”
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“Wouldn’t kill me to try,” Shikata replied, taking a glance at whoever was addressing him. After identifying him as a man in fairly casual clothes considering his older age, he went back to his business, looking for a feel-good story, “Robbery foiled due to the intervention of a dog and a courageous driver crashing his car into the criminals. Justice was quickly served to the robbers as they were apprehended and taken into custody soon after. The driver is still in critical condition after the car crashed and hasn’t woken up but the hospital staff assured reporters that he’ll be fine and stable. A reward was given to the dog, who was unharmed from the crash, for its valorous service.”
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…
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With a shrug, Shikata said, “Alright, I’ll take it. Happy the dog is doing well.”
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Laughter erupted from the man next to Shikata, he tried to collect himself but a few gleeful chuckles escaped him while talking, “That was the most bizarre display of buoyancy I’ve seen in years! If these eyes of mine were blind I would’ve assumed it came from some wide-eyed child.”
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“I wouldn’t take it that far,” replied Shikata, facing the older man, “Misfortune is always happening in the world and there’s nothing I can do for every issue, so why sulk on them? The best I can do is cope and slug on, making myself miserable won’t help.”
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“That’s one way to look at things, but it seems hollow to live by.”
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“Better than the bottle,” sassed the young man. During the small pause in the conversation, his impulsive habits kicked in, and Shikata already had a meticulous profile about this person he had only started talking to.
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This older man’s ragged clothes were torn and misfitted for his size. But above all else, in the current work culture of Japan, it was strange seeing a man below fifty at the train station at this time of day not looking prepared for a day of work.
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Without a doubt, Shikata knew this man was poor and jobless; his assumption was that he was homeless for quite a while. Enough time where he had gotten used to it and found a system to coast by. From how his coat was wrinkled but not absolutely filthy, aside from a few dry stains, Shikata thought he did a good job in washing his clothes. Deciphering the older man’s age was the trickiest part, his face had certainly seen better days. It seemed to have aged more from decay rather than being drained from the stress of labor. With his body posture in consideration, Shikata could only pinpoint his age to be in his late to mid-forties.
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“Stop it,” he told himself, pausing his discourteous analysis of a sitting stranger. Yet, he couldn’t ignore what he found out, “Though this does explain why the seat was empty. People don’t like sharing spaces with others that are less favorable in their eyes.”
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The older man stared at the ground as he said, “You know, that might’ve not been the worst way to ride through hardship. I wish someone would’ve told me that.”
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“Hindsight is always twenty-twenty,” sighed Shikata, resting his back.
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“Ain’t that the world’s greatest cruelty. Such a mythical tool to have yet no one can use it in time,” commented the older man, his body shuffling as he moved to stand up, “Well, I’ll leave you alone. You seem to be having a tough day so I don’t want to disturb you any further.”
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“Hm?” the younger man asked, looking confused, “No you’re fine, stay. I’m doing nothing while I wait here.“
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“You sure? You don’t seem to be in a talking mood.”
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“Why so?”
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“Well uh, your face looks… irritated.”
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“My face?” question Shikata, touching the part in question. He felt out the facial structure of an utterly blank and stern face, “Oh, my face! Sorry about that, I always look like this.”
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This has been a problem the young man has been facing for the last couple of years, how he looked. He wasn’t unappealing by standards of beauty, people before have tried to convince him to be a veiled looker, it was the presentation of his features that would make him offputting to some bystanders. Often his face would be stolid and devoid of showing a variety of expressions, not the most welcoming foot forward to open up a conversation.
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“Really?” the older man asked, a bit amazed, “You must have it rough making new friends.”
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“Meh, I have a few acquaintances. They have often joked about the ‘apparent’ rare appearances of my smiles, but they’re full of shit and do it to mess with me.”
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“They sound lovely.”
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“It’s a pain! That’ll be more irritating than hearing you speak.”
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There was a small pause before Shikata held out his hand, continuing, “That reminds me, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Shikata Kokoro. Yours?”
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“Ah-” there was a small quiver around the old man’s lip as something wanted to come out but its escape route was shut down with the closing of his mouth. Hollow eyes stared at the pavement as inanimate words leaked out his mouth, “You shouldn’t worry about the name of someone like me.”
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“If you say so,” Shikata replied, retracting his hand since it wasn’t being accepted. He was being a lot laxer than his usual conversations, “I’m off the clock, no need to pry every detail.”
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Besides, there was no mystery when the answers were this blatant. The unwanted in society can’t help but feel disposable, waiting to permanently expire and be forgotten by the passage of time.
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Basic stuff that’s always cycling through Shikata’s thoughts.
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Taking up his melon bun again and unwrapping it, he states, “But I’ll tell you now, you’re only worth as much as you put yourself as.”
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After a bit of pondering, the older man asked, “Do you mind listening to this fool’s story then? I’m curious to see what you’ll have to say afterward.”
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Putting down his uneaten bun once again, Shikata nonchalantly answered, “Eh, go nuts. I’m all ears.”
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“...Well--”
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CHOO!
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The whistling off of a train horn echoed throughout the station as the metal beast of modern industrialism rolled its way in.
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CLICKETY-CLACK!
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“Oh, it’s here,” Shikata thought to himself. The thought only persisted with him for a moment before turning back to the older man to continue their conversation, “As you were saying?”
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“Isn’t this your train?” was the homeless man’s response.
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“Yeah, but I got time before I need to get on. What were you saying?”
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…
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Switching his view between Shikata and the train, the poor man told him, “Hmm, you better get on. Good seats are hard to come by.”
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“Oh... ok. Are you sure? I don’t care about seats.”
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“It’ll be a story for another time... if we meet again of course. Have a fun day at work,” the older man responded, his eyes once again glued to the floor. They couldn’t lift themself back up, a self-deprecating feeling weighed them down by the tons. In his mind, “I shouldn’t muck up the fresh working cogs of the world with my troubles. I’ve had my chance to do it right.”
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“Alright... see ya,” Shikata told him, taking out a small stack of cards from his pocket. After a quick moment of shuffling, he handed one off to his interlocutor.
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The older man couldn’t accept it as he was unable to lift his head to see it was being offered. Glaring down at him, Shikata apathetically tossed the card onto his lap to spare breath convincing him to take it. While cold, the younger man did spare time to give some parting words.
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“I meant every word I said, about what determines your worth. I don’t know what your past is but there’s one thing I do know, you’re alive. As I see it, as long as you can still move, act, speak, and think, you have the ability and the chance to make something out of your life. There’ll be no point to this modern world of advancements if there wasn’t something, amirite?”
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Gathering his bag and making sure he didn’t forget anything important for the day ahead of him. As Shikata left for his train, he said, “Take care of yourself, oh and you can have the newspaper. I’m done with it.”
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At the lap of the older man, he was able to read what was given to him. Quickly he discovered this was a business card of the young man.
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Kokoro Shikata660Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5UtCrJlSBS
Social Worker
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On the back were a few handwritten names, numbers, and addresses to a variety of places he should call. Recognizing some of these places and what they could mean for him, he turned to where the younger boy was sitting before and spotted the newspaper. Left sitting on top of the neatly folded articles was the still uneaten melon bun, its wrapper recovering it though sloppily.
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Trembling bruised hands went to pick up the confectionery, feeling the sweet treat warming his soul. For this young stranger to consider his pride as if it was still sacred, he couldn’t let such a kind gesture go without some form of appreciation back; yet his pocket was barren of any value.
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“H-hey! Shikata!” the older man called out. By the time he built the strength to speak, Shikata was already stepping into the train. But still, he called out to him hoping it’ll be heard from the noisy crowd, “My name is Jenerikku Hinkon!”
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At first, Jenerikku couldn’t tell if Shikata heard him. So many people had started gathering behind the young man. Between the multiple conversations going on and the rumbling noise from the metal beast, whatever he, a single man of no importance, said could easily be drowned out. Just before Jenerikku believed this possibility, the hand of Shikata raised up. The young man continued forward without turning around as he waved back.
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The sentiment was successfully received.
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“Well, at least it was a pleasant unexpected encounter today,” Shikata thought to himself as he moved throughout the train to find a preferable seat. Having something alleviating before he starts his day made him think to himself, “Maybe I can plateau the feeling for the rest of the day.”
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He would later die that day.
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Another tragedy had occurred, one of many like it.
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