“My bad decisions caused my death. Perhaps Taniguchi was right to get revenge.”
Shinji shook his head. “Taniguchi carried a ten years old grudge and acted on it. He suffered; that I understand. But killing his former classmates—” Shinji looked at the other three ghosts. “—wasn’t the answer.”
“They don’t remember much,” Ishida said. “I don’t know why.”
Shinji knew why. Taniguchi’s spiritual energy must’ve been so strong, it tampered with whatever feeble connection Yamato, Ozawa and Miura had with the mortal world. Ishida remembering was atypical after what he went through. Even though he said he deserved Taniguchi’s revenge, maybe, deep inside, he didn’t want to be dead and held on to the last shred of his connection to this world: his memories.
Shinji exchanged a glance with the Shinigami, who shrugged. She probably didn’t want to burden them on their last day here.
“I’m sorry,” Shinji said.
“Thank you.” Ishida bowed. “We don’t even know each other, but you helped me.” White tears rolled down his cheeks, vanishing beyond his jaw into thin air. “I wish I was still alive. I had applied to the Traffic Division again. They accepted me back. I was supposed to—” He stopped the flow of words abruptly. “Never mind.”
Shinji pressed his lips together wishing there was more he could do. He turned to the woman who raised her arm and, with a twirl of her hand, released four thin tendrils of white energy. Bringing forth hisreiryokuShinji held onto the tendrils, tying them to his energy, effectively linking the ghosts to himself. It was an ability Shinigami possessed to make sure they wouldn’t lose the ghosts or to keep them under control in case they were dangerous.
“Come with me,” Shinji said toward the spirits.
He bid the Shinigami goodbye, not wanting to spend any more time than necessary under her scrutinizing gaze and he walked back to the car, where Teruo waited.
“Done?” he asked as Shinji climbed into the driver seat.
The ghosts settled one next to the other on the backseat, the four of them lowering the temperature inside significantly. Shinji turned on the heating before pulling the car onto the road.
“Almost. We’ll go to Musashino where my jurisdiction is. I’m not allowed to do the ritual anywhere else.”
“Jurisdiction?” Teruo blinked. “That sounds weirdly bureaucratic.”
Shinji laughed. “Oh, you have no idea.”
Teruo gave him a side eye, then nodded. He tugged the overcoat tighter and lit a cigarette, glancing in the rearview mirror from time to time. The question probably lingered on the tip of his tongue, but he seemed apprehensive.
Finally, Teruo cleared his throat. “Are they, uh… ” He waved a hand aimlessly in the air. “You know…”
“Yes,” Shinji said. He couldn’t help but chuckle at Teruo’s way of asking about the ghosts.
“Hm. I see.”
Ishida, who sat between Yamato and Ozawa, leaned forward and looked at Teruo. “Can the chief see us?”
“No,” Shinji said.
Teruo whipped his head. “What?”
“Sorry, not talking to you. Ishida asked if you can see them.”
Silence fell for a few heartbeats as Teruo stared from Shinji to the backseats and then back to Shinji. He ran a palm over his face then slumped in his seat. Whatever conflict took place in his head didn’t last long and Teruo straightened up.
“I’m sorry,” Teruo said, his gaze focused ahead. “For not being a better partner to you. For not saving your life.”
“It’s not your fault, sir,” Ishida said. He turned to Shinji. “I always got in his way. The chief tried to be patient, but I’m just…”
“Patient?” Shinji smiled, trying to lighten up the mood. “That doesn’t sound like the chief.”
“He’s a great officer. I was useless.” Ishida’s shoulders slouched. “I hope he forgives me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” Shinji reached for Teruo’s arm and tapped him. “Right, sir?”
Teruo turned, looking somewhere between the seats, wavering, not knowing where to settle his gaze. “You did nothing wrong. On the contrary, you helped us with this case. You did well. Thank you.”