After stripping off his clothes, he took a fast shower, put on a pair of pajama pants, and threw himself on the bed with a groan.
Sleep came fast and, along with it, the nightmare. The one he’d been having for the past two months.
He was on a stakeout at night with Haruna—his superior officer. They’d called for backup but it was late. She insisted on going inside the warehouse alone, leaving Shinji behind to watch the exit. He didn’t like it. His chest pounded painfully as he stared at her small frame disappearing into the darkness.
Haruna been the bravest person he knew. Always calm, collected and ready for action. With her long hair tied in a ponytail, her casual attire of T-shirts, jeans and trainers—which she’d often get scolded for yet still continued to wear. She was ten years his senior and he thought of her like the older sister he never had.
She came out of that warehouse with her hair disheveled, chunks of it ripped out, her eyes white and lifeless. This wasn’t his superior officer anymore. There was something inside her. Something evil.
And she lashed at him, biting and scratching. He struggled to push her off. To not injure her. To hold her down until help arrived.
Then a blast echoed in his ears, deafening him. A gunshot. Haruna fell onto the ground.
He grabbed her, shook her, yelled. She didn’t wake up. She would never wake up.
Her chest burst open, a gruesome image of blood and viscera. That thing, whatever it was, left her. Shinji tried to remember what it looked like, but never could. It had all happened so fast. But he was sure that han’t been just a ghost.
When her spirit left her body, it was his duty to guide her to the other side. She wouldn’t go. She wouldn’t leave.
“Why did you let him shoot me, Shinji? Why?” she screamed.
No.
She hadn’t said that. She wouldn’t say that. It was his guilt speaking for failing to protect her from the one who shot her, instead of helping her. A murderer who would never be punished.
When she finally stepped through the gate leading to the other side, Shinji questioned for the first time in his life whether it was truly worth it to do this. His job was the most important one. He helped spirits, he opened the gate for them, guiding them to cross over to the afterlife.
But his job was also the loneliest, as he stood there, watching Haruna go, never to see her again.
That’s what it meant to be a Grim Reaper.
CHAPTER 5
Teruo
Teruo passed by the front desk next morning, picking up two thick envelopes addressed to him, then headed up to his office.
Miyazaki hadn’t arrived yet. There were still ten minutes until the working day began, so Teruo left the envelopes on his desk and went to the kitchen to grab a coffee.
Just before he reached it, Superintendent Yoshida emerged, a steaming cup in his hand, spreading the scent of jasmine tea into the hallway. The superintendent spoke no words, only glared at Teruo and gave him a slight nod when Teruo bowed.
He knew that was the superintendent’s way of saying “I’m watching you.”
Great, Teruo thought.Being supervised like a naughty child is exactly what I need right now.
He added water and a coffee pod to the machine, slamming every button like it personally offended him and waited for the dark elixir of life that would hopefully fill him with much required energy. He focused on the humming sound of the coffee machine, trying to ignore the exhaustion in his bones and slight throb in his shoulder. He had to make do without pain meds, so he could be as clear headed as possible.
When the machine stopped he picked up his cup and topped it with milk. He took a small gulp and sighed satisfied as it warmed up his body.
Returning to his office, he found Miyazaki inside.
“Good morning, sir. Apologies for being late.” He bowed.
“Mornin’,” Teruo said. “You’re only two minutes late. Don’t worry.” At this point he was just grateful Miyazaki was present.
Miyazaki turned back to shuffling files on his desk. From the bags under his eyes, the loose tie, and the bed-head hair, it seemed he’d slept in.
“Rough night?” Teruo asked. He opened the window and lit a cigarette, breathing out the smoke into the chilled autumn air.