A burst of flames filled the sky, orange and blue and climbing up in an explosion. The prayer plaques held their distance against one another, clacking in unison before falling back down in a breath. It was the end of the summer festival, yet the red shrine still glowed against the torii gate.
A haze had been driven in my mind since then, a dagger wedged between my memory. All that I had remembered of years past was a blizzard of static in my vision and the lightness of my head. The bell still rang relentlessly in my head, with no end seeming near. The fortunes were still ready, and the brush of ink was still wet.
The summer heat was unbearable at this time of year. The layers of my kimono soaked into my body as July became one with my own. I had only the faintest idea of incense or yen, perhaps the glowing of fireworks had possessed me. Echoes of children in the distance held my breath tight as the shrine heaved towards heaviness.
Innocence of a new year had become my embodiment once more. I had no such want for a past or a view of the future, for every such year had become molded in my instability. The night had taken away the privilege of knowing what difference light makes to the emptiness.
I gathered the wooden fortune slips and put them in a circular tube to be shaken and exposed to the world with feeling. But the creaking of my heart gathered on and the itching of my body persisted.
The birds had long since stopped their singing and the insects no longer held their incessant buzzing. This I knew. A foreign noise had tainted but a young woman before. I was held to exclusion.
“Excuse me, miss?” a voice rang out in the open forest.
It was dark now, the fireworks gone and chatter farther away. The lights of stalls had faded into obscurity, and the line between life and death was apparent once more.
“I know it’s far past midnight, but if possible, may I pay respects?”
I nodded to the woman in front of the torii gate. Her hair shone against her yukata, and her almond eyes looked like porcelain in the orange light of lanterns.
“Ah, thank you! My husband is waiting, so I won’t be long.”
“It’s no problem,” I said, my voice tight. It felt as if my vocal chords were cut too short. My breath had shortened and taken my faded words into the wind as she bowed at the red gate in front of her.
I watched as she came to the entrance.
“You don’t happen to have green tea incense, do you? It was my father’s favorite.”
I looked downwards at the small cavity in the wood below me and brought forward an incense stick with a wooden holder. The stick stood upright and standard as I struck a match near its face. The green burned as I lit it, then shook away the embers from my hand.
“Thank you. How much would that be?” The woman asked, the smoke spiraling towards the sky.
“300 yen.”
She handed me a wad of cash and went to the offering box covered by a sloping roof. She simply put the incense on the box and placed a 5 yen coin inside before bowing deeply with her hands closed together.
She was peaceful at that moment. The lingering sound of a bell had almost faded until she looked back at me.
It was as if I saw my own battered reflection in her eyes. The mask I wore had kept me tight and only the tearing of my flesh could cause my escape. That reflection drew me back in her gaze before her body hit the concrete below her.
The incense had burned out, leaving nothing but the smell of ash on the tray. The look of blood had looked nothing but ordinary in the sea of red in the temple.
Yet, as this mask fell out of my world, that blizzard of loss had cleared, and the bell had stopped ringing. And the crunch of a bone took me to sleep. And the mask had broken once more, yet would be all the same in the next morning. The kitsune it had depicted was nothing but a liar for fools. I had nothing more to say to the wind as I faded towards the night.
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