Stranded in the Future

Chapter Twenty-Six: False Alarm

Ichiro leaned against the kitchen counter and buried his head in both hands. He wasn't sure what to make of Futoshi's confusing request, nor was he capable of making his way over when the old man hadn't even bothered to give a location.

Damn it, what should I do? I'm not ready to wander around on my own...

The mere thought of walking past noisy and gassy cars without Kumiko to lean on for support filled him with nausea, yet Ichiro knew that he had to take the risk sooner or later. He was a grown man, and it would be pitiful if he kept clinging to her like a frightened child with their mother.

There had to be another course of action he could take. Ichiro remembered how people had once kept correspondence through letters and messengers, and though he didn't have access to either, the telephone was less than a foot in front of him.

I see. I could just call Futoshi back...

Ichiro extended an unsteady hand to pick up the phone receiver and bring it towards his ear. "Hello?" he shouted, only to hear nothing but crackling. Seconds passed before he swallowed in shameful realization and found the courage to let his other hand hover over the twelve buttons that each displayed a so-called number.

He spied a small notebook with a coiled spine resting to the left of the telephone, then realized that it was the same one Kumiko flipped through when she wanted to call someone. Therefore, it was reasonable to conclude that the notebook contained the names and details of various correspondents. A landlord like Futoshi had to be important enough to be listed as well, so Ichiro turned to the first page and tried to decipher the rows of outlandish characters.

Ichiro didn't know which pertained to his landlord, so it seemed that he would have to try all of them until the right person answered. He eyed the buttons on the telephone and sucked in a breath. Here I go...

He entered the corresponding numbers of each contact to the best of his ability. The first turned out to be a man whose brusque way of speaking irritated him beyond belief.

"I'm sorry, we're not taking any more tour bookings today. Call tomorrow if you're still interested!"

"I see. I'm sorry!"

With a click, the crackling from earlier returned and made Ichiro frown in discomfort. It was truly an unpleasant noise, so he slammed the receiver down, then struggled to shift it back in the proper position. This is troublesome. How does Kumiko make it look so simple?!

He directed his gaze to the next entry in the book while bringing the mouthpiece up again. A cold sensation became present behind his neck, and Ichiro discovered it wasn't just his anxiety when the ghostly form of none other than Tsutomu drifted in through the kitchen door. 

"Trying to call someone?" the former salaryman questioned without offering a polite greeting. "I didn't think you'd start using a telephone so soon."

Ichiro gnashed his teeth and gripped the telephone mouthpiece harder. "This isn't funny! Futoshi is in trouble, and I don't know what to do!"

Tsutomu raised his eyebrows, then huffed in sympathy. "I understand. There's no need to panic."

"What do you mean?" Ichiro asked, relaxing his voice and body.

"I overheard Hideo and Futoshi talking this morning. If my guess is correct, they went to Yukari's place to make amends with her. Knowing her, it probably isn't going well."

Ichiro glanced at the curved instrument in his hand. "Is that not a cause for concern?"

"Well, we have a tanuki, a shinigami from the Underworld, and a flesh specter. I think they can work something out themselves."

"Are you sure?"

Tsutomu smiled in an almost paternal way. "I'm sure. Besides, you shouldn't stress yourself out like this when you have all the time in the world. Wait until Kumiko comes home, and she can help you sort things out."

"But I don't want to keep relying on her. It's pathetic..." Ichiro bunched up his left hand, feeling tempted to punch the wall in his brewing frustration. 

"As I said earlier, you have plenty of time. And, even then, what man doesn't depend on his wife from time to time? Nobody is really self-sufficient..."

Ichiro sighed and placed the receiver down for good. "I suppose you have a point. I shouldn't expect so much from myself..."

******

Futoshi returned to the living room after getting off the phone. He laid eyes on Yukari sitting upon the couch with a pensive expression, then glanced at a still blood-covered Hideo leaning against the wall by the television.

"So," he announced, drawing bitter glares from both of them. "I might have to make a trip back home to find proper clothes, but even then, I doubt they'll fit. I'm not the tallest guy around, as you can see."

Hideo slumped his shoulders and inched away from the wall. "If that's so, I'll have to return home. A shame, since I was looking forward to seeing more of this modern world..."

"Hey, there's always next time. Right?"

Yukari raised her head with a start. "Shut up. Don't even think about it."

"What?"

"I just wasted money on a flight I didn't take. And it's all your fault, you bloody geezer."

Hideo sprung forward a couple of steps. "Am I hearing this right? You wanted to take a plane to get away from me?"

"No," Yukari denied, only to realize that lying was futile. "Never mind, it's true. But I'm not telling you where I was planning to go."

"Suit yourself," Hideo murmured as his eyes became glazed with defeat. He looked down at his soiled clothing. "This won't look good on my performance appraisal, but I shall take my leave for now. See you another time..."

He turned around and used none other than his palm to form a black swirling mass. Yukari blinked in disbelief. She felt confident that her eyes were deceiving her as the mass grew to encompass much of the wall beside the television and almost reached the ceiling. Shrinking back against the couch, she watched as Hideo clambered into the void and disappeared from her sight.

"What's happening?" she whispered, glancing at the equally gob smacked Futoshi.

"I don't know..."

The swirling void collapsed upon itself with a rushing sound, leaving them both staring at the blank wall in awkward silence. Yukari managed to force herself up with both legs. "Does this mean I'm free again?"

"I suppose it does," Futoshi nervously agreed. "Can I go now?"

"No." Yukari threw a steely look in his direction when she remembered the trail of blood leading from the front door all the way to the bathroom. "You're going to share responsibility by helping me clean this mess."