What is this mark?
“You still up for sparring today after classes?”
“Of course, Sayaka-chan! I look forward to our bout!”
Mei and Sayaka met each other as they did most school days; before the large Torii that marked the entranceway of Kageoka Central Station, as they walked together to the train which they rode to Higan Academy. The sun shone through the glass ceiling, the sunbeams keeping the building warm, while the lofty ceilings ensured that the temperature never reached uncomfortable heights. The architecture of the place combined the practical, utilitarian aspects of a railway designed for steam locomotives, with the aesthetics of the traditional Japanese construct.
Throughout the plaza, there were several vendors, selling food, drinks, magazines, and anything else that a train passenger with a high time preference could be convinced to overpay for. The smells of a hundred different items wafted through the air, enticing the nostrils to open the wallet, as newspaper stands ensured the most salacious and attention-grabbing headlines were on display, and their owners called out to tempt further investigation.
Such cries, however, were drowned out at distance, as the sheer volume of the throngs of people present echoed and blended, becoming a loud, indiscernible, background thrum.
Through this organized chaos, the two students made their way to the turnstiles. After finally getting the machine to recognize their passes, the two took their tickets and began walking toward the steps down to their station.
The station was crowded, as it always was. This line was not exclusive to Higan Academy; many people depended upon it to get to and from work. Salarymen and women milled around, waiting for the train to arrive. It was due in 4 minutes, so the driver had 4 minutes and 20 seconds until he would have to issue a public apology for tardiness.
No sooner had they stepped down into the crowded mass, than they heard a scream tear through the from the adjacent platform.
“What was that?” exclaimed Sayaka, as she began to shove her way through to the edge of the platform. Mei followed in her wake, pushing to the front to the disapproving looks and murmurs of the crowd, until the two were able to see the tracks.
About 10 meters up the opposite track, a girl – no older than them – had fainted, falling over the edge, and had collapsed onto the rails. The screams had come from the girl’s friends, who instead of helping, simply panicked at the sudden emergency.
Fools thought Mei, before the worst possible sound echoed through the station. A train that was not scheduled to stop was sounding its horn; the screeching, high pitched wail a horrible omen of what was about to happen.
Time slowed to a crawl, as Mei’s mind accelerated to unbelievable speeds, the need to respond allowing her to enter the zone. Normally, Mei was not one for calculations, but when it came to the realm of athleticism, her mind could move even faster than her body.
She saw everything and took everything into consideration. The distance to the girl, her distance from the train, the speed of the train, its braking as sparks danced in slow motion through the air.
OK. 10 meters to her. Run, grab her, jump out of the way. Call it, two seconds, tops. Next, the train. 80 meters away. Speed? Roughly 120 kilometers an hour. That’s 100 meters in 3 seconds. Close, but train is braking. Yes, I’ve got time.
With her mind set, Mei leapt down onto the tracks, and sprinted as fast as she could to the comatose girl. More screams emanated through the space as those with faster reactions saw someone presumably throw their life away.
A second later, Mei was at the girl. Sliding to one knee, she hooked one leg to her shoulder, before rolling across the girl’s torso, bringing her limp form into a fireman’s carry. The sound of the train – from its squealing brakes to its shrieking horn – filled her ears, as it barrelled down on them, like some monster out of a nightmare. There was no time to think.
Mei jumped.
Within the train, Hoshino Taro pushed the brake as hard as he could, futilely hoping that the extra force would slow the train down enough. He had seen the girl fall onto the tracks, and even though he slammed the brakes to full power, he knew it would not be enough to stop in time. He was in control of hundreds of tons of metal, with only a few square inches of contact with the rails. But twice he had seen what happened to a human body hit by a train, and he prayed to all the gods that may be listening, that he would not have to see it happen again.
Those memories flashed before his eyes. The first was not long after he had started this career. She had been a young woman, not much older than this girl, and had thrown herself in front of his train as he went under a bridge. He hadn’t had even a second of warning, before the glass was covered in red. He remembered how long it took for the train to stop, of just sitting there, looking at the blood. He found out later that her boyfriend had dumped her, and in her grief, she took a permanent solution to a temporary problem. He was given a couple of weeks off, then it was back to work.
The second was a decade ago, when the asset bubble burst, and had been in this exact station. He had been going through, when a young guy shoved an older man in front of him. He had apparently been a new hire, and with the crash, among the first to be fired. The victim had been his manager, had fired him without any pity at all, and so the young man took a stupid and rash action. He was still in prison, having avoided the death penalty in exchange for confessing.
Both times he had witnessed death, he had been angry with the people involved. Both times, the decision of someone else to take a life had made him the tool of death, forced him to be involved. It was this that allowed him to move past those events. It had not been his fault, someone else was the killer. But that wasn’t the case this time. This time, he could see it coming, he should have stopped sooner, and in his mind, he would be a killer.
He was two seconds away from impact.
Taro wanted to shut his eyes, to block out what was about to happen, but he couldn’t look away. He was frozen. Time slowed for him, as though his mind was forcing him to sear this into his memory, so he could never escape the guilt. All he could see was the space where a girl lay, motionless and about to die.
Suddenly, there was not one girl, but two! Some fool was attempting a rescue, but at this speed and distance, it was nothing but suicidal. He saw her move like rushing water, getting the girl onto her shoulders, but it must be too late. The train was too close.
He braced for impact.
Nothing came.
The train shrieked through the platform, not coming to a stop until it had passed beyond the end, yet there was no BANG. There was no red explosion. There was nothing.
Hoshino Taro scrambled out of his cabin as soon as the doors would open, all but falling over as he ran back to the station, all the while frantically looking under the carriages for any sign of impact. There was none. Had a miracle happened?
Mei panted as she gently placed the girl on the floor. It had been close, too close for comfort, but she had done it. Jumping out of the way at the last moment, the train had torn through less than a foot from her. She began to notice the world around her again, her perception widening after being so focused. She saw that she was surrounded by onlookers. Her sense of sound began to return to her, as the screams that had been present gave way to relieved sighs from most, and a few cheers from other teenagers.
The girl’s friends pushed their way through the throng. As they broke through, seeing their friend unconscious yet alive, they burst into tears. One began to bow as she thanked Mei.
“Thank you, thank you, oh, thank you so much!”
The others began to speak as they found their voices.
“How did you do that?”
“Misaki-chan! Misaki-chan! Please, wake up!”
“Thank the gods.”
A new, familiar voice broke through.
“OK, OK, give them some room!”
It was Sayaka. Whether she had run across to this platform, or had just jumped across the tracks, Mei did not know, but her presence was most welcome. The blonde martial artist shooed the onlookers back, before coming over to Mei, the girl (who was presumably Misaki), and her friends.
She knelt down beside Mei, looking down with concern, before turning to the other girls.
“What happened to her? Did she say anything? Eat anything strange?”
The gaggle were confused.
“N-no, nothing! She just started stumbling and then passed out! We thought she was – was…”
They broke down again, hugging and comforting each other, as Mei and Sayaka looked at each other.
“Strange. Think she’s just been starving herself to be skinny?”
“Perhaps. Do you happen to have my bag? I dropped it before I got her.”
“Right here.”
Sayaka gave Mei her bag back. She rummaged through it, past her schoolbooks and school stationary, until she found what she was looking for. With a flourish, she pulled out a strange talisman – a fulu – and, much to the protests of the friends, lifted the back of Misaki’s shirt.
“Ehh?! What are you doing?”
“Do not worry, this will help your friend. It will give her a boost to her vitality, and while it won’t cure whatever is ailing her, it ought to at least awaken her.” Mei said, trying to reassure the group. As she spoke to them, Sayaka stared at the Misaki’s back, seeing something that shouldn’t be there.
“Uh, Mei? What’s that?” She asked, shaking Mei’s shoulder to get her attention.
“Hmm? Oh, my.”
The two gazed down at a bizarre mark upon Misaki’s pale skin. It was tiny, hidden in the small of the back, and would be difficult for her to see in the mirror even if she knew it was there. It was a butterfly, pitch black in color, with four wings.
Sayaka and Mei looked at each other. They both had enough knowledge on the hidden and esoteric to know that this was as bad an omen as one could have. 4 was shi in Japanese, the same as death. Black butterflies themselves were harbingers of death, a sign that a soul was about to be guided to the afterlife. Combined? This was a bad, bad omen.
Before either of them could voice their concerns, harsh and demanding voices came booming in, bolstered by the use of megaphone.
“Move back! Move back!”
It seemed the railway staff were fast approaching.
Not wanting to miss the opportunity to aid the victim, Mei turned her attention away from the mark and back to the work of the talisman. She carefully placed the fulu between the shoulder blades, ensuring full contact with the skin, before quickly pulling the shirt back down.
Within moments, Misaki began to stir from her stupor, eyes fluttering open. As she began to sit up, the staff pushed through the wall of people around them. Immediately, they moved to take over the situation. One with a first aid kit began pulling out bandages, as Sayaka and Mei were shooed away.
“We shall handle it! We shall handle it!” was all they would say, as they guided Misaki to the back offices, out of sight of the public.
With no other option, Sayaka and Mei returned to their original platform. Their train was due in less than a minute, and if they missed it, they would have either a long bus ride, or an even longer walk as their options.
Once sitting down, on their way to school, Sayaka was the first to break the silence.
“Sooo, what do you think that mark was?”
Mei frowned. She did not know, having never seen such a mark, but it could not be anything good. It was no tattoo, that was obvious. It was a stain, a mark of the supernatural, something that had spilled over from the other world.
“I do not know. When I get home, I shall ask Grand-Mama. She is venerable and wise, surely she will know.”
“Great!” Smiled Sayaka, slightly too forced, but Mei did not notice. Nor did she notice Sayaka surreptitiously rub the small of her own back.
There too, branded on her flesh, was the same four-winged black butterfly.