The Brother Gone
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A great winged figure shot up from the center of the square, a tall white form that flew into the air and rose above the city as though it had been born to soar through heaven. The entire village seemed filled with sound, as every ear was focused on this beautiful apparition.
It soared higher still; in its wake the stone buildings were swallowed by night like tiny black seeds, leaving behind only firelight and silent shadows. The wind blew cold around them now—not so much from the mountain, but because of the Brother gone. Everyone knew what they faced here tonight.
They didn’t need to hear any more words or warnings to know who might be coming for their lives… And yet people shouted out anyway as they fled, not wanting to miss one last chance at warning their neighbors…
And then the winged figure was flying high overhead once more, soaring away over the sea toward the moon. It ascended and climbed until it disappeared altogether against the sky’s dark blue expanse, no longer visible from the earth below. As the man stood there alone watching this momentary glimpse of heaven, a small voice whispered in his mind: “I am done.” Then another, deep and full of power: “You are my son now….”
Then he closed his eyes tightly and knelt down again before the image that waited just outside his door. He clasped his hands together in supplication before him. Tears streamed down his cheeks now without direction; they had no meaning and nor did everything else happening within him.
He prayed silently. A breeze came upon his face, and suddenly his shirt felt cool between his fingers, like water rushing back beneath the ice. There was nothing to say in his heart—he held onto the words he could use. His lips formed the Lord’s name: I am finished.
You are my son, lord God. But as soon as they left his mouth, these too vanished.
He fell forward onto both knees before the symbol standing there beyond the threshold of his life, crying out to an unknowable power whom he somehow understood, even though the thought was utterly foreign to him now.
All these moments came together inside himself, all the many mysteries, one after another flowing through his veins, flooding his body with some emotion he could hardly identify. Then, at the last instant, something gave way within him, a great wave passing along his entire being, taking the shape of love and pain mixed together, leaving behind only confusion, joy, and horror as well. The heat pressed down on him like a fist, crushing everything with it.
When he opened his eyes again, his prayer was already half-forgotten… And yet he realized immediately that things had changed. For a long time thereafter, he kept looking across the space dividing them from each other.
He stepped aside and let the light spill forth to burn off his shadow. Behind him the candles burned upward, making a point of itself where none had ever existed before. Above them stretched a cloudless sky, without a single star.
It was a simple thing, really. Yet everywhere it went, the light moved with gracefulness and certainty. No matter which way he looked, wherever he turned his head, a pure white glow surrounded him. One glance in any direction and all sense of depth began to fade.
In its place, he found endless horizons stretching away endlessly, each containing countless distant points that seemed closer than the ones in the next field.
In those fields the birds sang brightly, calling out from their nests in trees or clumps of weeds growing from the ground. Some even took a flight to return again later with a second song or two—all of which sounded strangely familiar to him.
Everything was already taken care of. This momentary shock was nothing more than that—a brief intrusion of reality, an obstacle to be overcome when this was all said and done. From somewhere above his own body he heard a voice speaking, giving orders: “Be still. Stay exactly where you are. Do not move.”
When he spoke aloud, his voice sounded weak and uncertain—but then it became clear once again how bright he must appear before all the other glowing lights scattered throughout the world. He saw only vast skies spreading far ahead of him, brilliant with colors and shapes until the stars themselves blended right into the horizon… and then the edge of the universe itself reached toward him with a clarity made manifest.
This is what we have all always known. What others seek to deny us. We do not want anything to be different from what it seems—it’s easier that way! And yet even so, if we give ourselves to this simple truth, even a single instant… then there may be no turning back from the true light…
“What do I ask for?” he whispered to himself aloud. How can I possibly answer this? He sensed clearly then that the Lord had asked him a question about his future. He knew no reply to make; the only thing he wanted was to flee, to escape the spell the darkness was weaving around him. If I keep going deeper and deeper into the dark, will it work all the same, even then?
But as the question drifted up from his heart, another presence responded for him. Don’t leave. Please wait. This has nothing to do with you, it’s completely beyond your understanding. This is entirely my doing, and mine alone.
Nothing in you is worthy of consideration. Leave. Go to where the night goes on forever, beyond every other place that exists. Take up residence within the black depths and become one with them. Do me this favor, and I shall reward you by sending back to you all the worlds that await. You need not seek them out yourself. Just tell me if you will remain here or go off somewhere else.
The light standing before his door faded away, returning to its natural color. Far beyond the threshold, the dark depths withdrew their heavy hand back into themselves as though nothing had happened. In the space where it had been, a powerful light shone forth like a ray from the sun, illuminating the entire area with its dazzling brilliance.
His consciousness slipped backward, returning to where it had started, slipping free from the spell the darkness had woven over him. All he’d been able to think of were the myriad questions swirling within his mind.
He felt as though a whole life had just passed him by; he couldn’t remember what it was that had brought him here or what he might have done to prevent it all from happening. A fleeting shadow crossed across his consciousness—his eyes, looking at some unidentifiable object.
It made a strange sound deep inside. His face was pale and strained. There was someone he could hear whispering somewhere. The faint noise was so quiet that he couldn’t quite make out what it was saying. Was I asleep? Had I forgotten something?
As soon as he recalled who was standing behind him, he spun around to discover his grandmother standing there, smiling brightly. Her warm embrace bore no resemblance to the stern image he was used to seeing in her black-and-white photographs.
She wore a long black coat buttoned tightly shut, a thick scarf wrapped around her neck. Snowflakes caught and froze upon her eyelashes and lips as they melted—the very picture of frozen time and season. “Goodness, child,” she said gently, “don’t stare off into space like that. You’re scared, aren’t you? Afraid you’ll end up wandering lost through all eternity. But don’t you know by now that’s impossible?”
She smiled as she talked, but her smile was filled with despairing sorrow. A sob tore at his throat, trying to reach the bottom of his chest. He tried to speak, but something in his mouth wouldn’t let him do so.
Suddenly, the front door burst open violently. Shocking silence filled the room as they both turned toward it. In a white frock covered in snowflakes, a man’s head peeked inside. “I thought I heard crying…” the old woman replied calmly, gazing at the figure.
He bowed slightly, then stepped into the foyer with casual ease. On either side of him, the young girl stood staring silently, wide-eyed and trembling, her breath short and ragged. They looked at each other curiously, then quickly averted their gazes.
As he slowly approached, their eyes fixed on the floor, taking in their surroundings. A modest house constructed of gray stone, adorned with a handful of trees swaying ever so slightly above the ground. Glistening icicles hung from the eaves, dangling down from the roof.
Pristine white snow lay beneath their feet, reflecting back an ethereal glow from the distant streetlamps. Two people moved in the shadowy distance: a tall woman wearing a long coat and a cap whose visor concealed her hair. Their movements stirred up a thick curtain of cold air. With a heavy sigh, the two young women parted to allow the man entrance.
A room much smaller than those they had just walked into; a single table on which sat a bowl full of fruit. The four corners of the room were bare—no chairs or windows. Even the wall had no decorations whatsoever, only a pair of sliding doors that seemed to be an afterthought added later on as a measure against drafts. No bookshelves or desks, just a simple dresser, and closet. These are the apartments he kept for the help he needed to run his business.
Though the furniture didn’t match, they weren’t too shabby—perhaps a little on the plain side, perhaps even a bit tired, but certainly not enough to suggest a person who lived here was a stranger to luxury himself. Perhaps that was why he felt no anxiety concerning where they would put the money.
There was more than enough to cover any unexpected expense he might incur. The five hundred thousand yen was already in his possession, safely tucked away at his office. And, besides, if one ever needed a place to stay, this small room would suffice just fine, he thought. After all, anyone staying there couldn’t afford a better one.
“Hmm…,” he whispered, passing his glance along the walls. “Snowy nights tend to get chilly.” Suddenly he remembered why he’d come home at such an hour. “Hey, you!” he shouted. “Make me a cup of tea, will ya?!”
His grandmother gave him a reproachful stare before turning toward the kitchen. “Here is your tea,” she replied curtly. “Sit yourself down, would you?!”
The old man leaned back casually onto the edge of the bed. His clothing appeared tattered, as though it had been torn apart. His eyes were bloodshot, his face flushed red, and sweat streaked his forehead. He looked weary beyond description, as though he hadn’t slept for several days straight.
What could have caused such a state? Why did he suddenly come home so late? The man wondered bitterly. Whatever happened tonight, he mustn’t say anything about it to anyone. Even his own granddaughter. So he tried to keep quiet and pretend everything was going well like nothing was amiss.
But no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, the memories rose up within him, threatening to spill out with a wave of nostalgia. It happened every night now. Each time the events rolled across his mind once again, his stomach tensed, and his heart seized.
That terrible sound echoed through his head, almost as though he’d gone insane. Memories came rushing back, flowing like black waters, inundating his body until he nearly drowned.
Until the night…
Ding, dong! Ding, ding, dong!
An icy chill rushed over him when he realized the sound coming from outside had changed. For some reason, the clock wasn’t chiming its usual five o’clock.
He hurried to open the window, the wind nipping at his nose. Snow still swirled around, swirling down, blanketing the whole town under a sheet of pure white. His vision blurred at the periphery, the darkness pierced by faint light radiating from the streetlamps.
The ringing was louder now. Like some monster had somehow managed to escape the shadows and burst forth from the surrounding gloom. Only three times did the bells ring in succession. That made it twenty seconds apart. Twenty seconds, and then a pause. Then again at ten and fifteen past the hour, and another twice at thirty minutes.
It rang for a total of seventy minutes. And in that brief period of time, seventeen people passed his front door—every last one of them walking right on by without batting an eye. Though it was broad daylight, none dared to peer inside to see what the noise was.
The bells continued to ring incessantly, beating at the air without ceasing as a solemn silence overtook the town. Seven children cried and ran behind their parents.
Three adults sat huddled together with clenched jaws, praying under their breath. One older woman picked up her crying grandson and started marching through the slush. Two young girls thirteen and fourteen quietly slipped into the convenience store.
A man stepped off the bus and began making his way down the sidewalk. An elderly couple silently locked up their house. Two people passed him going in the other direction. Still ringing, the bells sounded. All day long the sound never ceased.
Yet still, the people stopped. They went on with their everyday lives, regardless of the ominous rhythm hammering against the ground beneath them. Where did it lead? Into which alleyway or hidden passage did it end up, sweeping someone away from their daily lives before disappearing entirely into the darkness below the ground?
Who exactly was being summoned? Did someone really need help that bad? Or was it merely a test? Was someone calling the lost souls underground?
No one knew for sure. Rumor was that the police conducted investigations using sniffer dogs but had yet to uncover any signs of human activity. Though what exactly the strange sound heralded remained unknown, everyone could agree on one thing: something strange was going on, and it had reached as far as the streets outside. In the blink of an eye, the bells transformed the town into a silent and empty graveyard.
Although he couldn’t put a name to it, there was definitely a lingering sense of unease within the old man’s heart. Despite himself, his spine shivered violently. The familiar sight of the town surrounded by the dark gray clouds floated above.
He sighed at the prospect of returning to bed. He’d spend the next few days pretending it was just another normal summer. When he closed his eyes, the ringing filled the space between dream and reality until he finally fell asleep. But in the morning, all of his warmest childhood dreams evaporated in the light of day. He realized that they might as well have never existed at all.
There was a little girl sitting quietly next to him, staring blankly at him. She looked completely different from before. The childish face, the innocent smile, the gleeful laughter that bubbled up from within the depths of her chest, and the ever-present warmth emanating from both her lips, the tip of her nose, and the tips of her fingers.
Suddenly he recalled every moment he spent with her during those formative years of his youth. Her soft hair tickled his cheeks each night he would sleep beside her. At the end of the school year, they’d throw their graduation parties in their respective homes, accompanied by balloons and flowers, with many a classmate helping prepare the food.
She always sat silently as he danced by her side. A gentle hand grasped his shoulder whenever she spotted an object out of place, while he instinctively held onto hers, unwilling to part. Even as they entered high school, she greeted him cheerfully, took his lunch bag, and watched as he attended class.
When he became involved in extracurricular clubs, she cheered him on the sidelines, her expression brimming with love and concern. A warm feeling overcame him whenever he would lie awake at night, gazing at the moonlit sky over his hometown and wondering where she was.
Every step of the way, he walked alongside her, relying on her trustworthiness, understanding her moods, and supporting her even more than she did. Those were the days when he hadn’t yet learned the art of saying thank you properly.
So he left his seat in her presence to return home and find the right words. And because she had been so patient and supportive, he wanted to take care of her too. It may have all ended much too soon, but the only emotion that lingered was a profound sadness mixed with regret. Yet through all of this, he had never once heard her speak…
The End