Oba had finished his dinner and drank the last of his water before retiring to his corner of the bedroom. Ever since he was little, he had shared the room with Osamu. Approaching his mid-seventies, Oba peered on as Osamu wrote in the opposite corner of the room. He knew Osamu did not like to be disturbed and so he remained in his own corner of the room. He had a deep yearning for Osamu tonight; but no matter what he thought of attempting, he knew it best to remain in his corner of the room. Curiosity caused his mind to speed off into different worlds. This was exciting, however tiring all the same. Despite how tired he was, Oba knew he needed to remain awake for Osamu tonight.

Oba was one with nature, like a free spirit. Every morning for the past seventy plus years, Oba would wake up before the rising sun and go for a run. Osamu always accompanied him and it was exhilarating. The adrenaline high was a great feeling for him, though the greatest of all was experiencing that high with Osamu. Seeing Osamu laugh, smile, and shower him with praise – this is what he lived for. He did not care that Osamu left for long periods of time every day, leaving him responsible for the home. Little did he care that Osamu had a tendency of never eating at the same time as he did, where the opportunity to make eye-contact and conversation could arise. All these things were of no concern to Oba. The only thing that mattered were those early morning runs and the late evening walks, where Osamu would tell the strangest stories about other people. The stories were often morbid, though Wallace understood that they reflected what was current in that day’s society.

Oba sensed something odd about Osamu’s habits tonight. Osamu remained at his desk writing for an extended period, without pause, without looking at the clock, and without a glance towards Oba. Unable to remain at rest for long, Oba sat up from his corner and began making the rounds about the home. He checked to make sure everything was prepared for the next day’s routine. He even checked the Butsudan to ensure nothing was amiss – forbid the spirit of the Rokujō emerge, he thought to himself – though no evidence of such a thing occurring showed itself. Oba believed that in just in a few years he would be memorialized in the very same shrine as Osamu’s ancestors.

Oba sat in front of the Butsudan for a moment and gazed at its center. To have lived past seventy years and die happily next to Osamu was his ideal death wish. He would not want it any other way. He refused to think about alternative possibilities. He knew that a death next to his life-long companion was exactly what he wanted. He looked to Osamu’s parents. Though he knew nothing of them, he believed they died peacefully next to one another. He could just tell by looking at their photographs that they were the kind of people who would not have wanted it any other way. Oba found solace within this thought. At every anniversary of their deaths, Oba and Osamu would offer fresh fruit. Oba hoped he had made it quite clear to Osamu that nothing should be offered to him in the afterlife. He wished to be remembered for the years of companionship he offered to Osamu. To make good on this wish, Oba lived each day with Osamu as if he had just met him. Oba could not remember the first day he had met Osamu. It had been decades ago, and his poor, old, and weary mind was unable to recollect such a detail.

“Oba-chan? Sanpo ni ikimashō.”

Oba was startled to see Osamu standing on the precipice of the shrine room. Osamu had previously chastised him for spending too much time in there, but tonight Osamu seemed to be in a forgiving mood. Oba stood up, stretched, and made his way to the door. He waited while Osamu readied himself for tonight’s stroll. But why an extra walk tonight? Was there something important Osamu wanted to speak to me about? “Oba, tonight I am meeting with Tomie. It will be our last night together.” Oba did not quite understand this statement. Is this Osamu and Tomie’s last night together? If so, why? He did not dare to speak at this moment, for he felt Osamu had more to say. He waited so impatiently for Osamu to speak more about tonight, but Osamu just continued his stride – which was unusually brisk.

Oba did not enjoy Tomie’s company, nor did Tomie enjoy Oba’s – in fact, they abhorred one another. They bickered throughout their entire relationship, though Oba’s voice was louder and more aggressive than the meek Tomie’s. She occupied Osamu’s time and prevented him from spending much needed time with Oba. Tomie never had a kind word for Oba, often referring to him as a lousy, inbred beast. There were numerous occasions where Oba would get the best of her, staining and ruining her summer kimono with urine – how was that for an inbred beast, he would think to himself and run away from the scene. If Osamu spent an exorbitant amount of time on Tomie, Oba would stake a silent protest: there would no runs, no dinners, no walks, and no casual conversation until the woman was gone.

Oba’s reasons for disliking Tomie were not without reason. She seemed to bring out the worst in Osamu. Ever since he had met her, he was prone to melancholy and would lash out to an empty audience. Oba, hearing the commotion from the other room, would run into the workspace to find Osamu in a drunk-like state. Upon seeing Oba, Osamu would banish him from his workspace and slide the doors shut violently. The next morning, Osamu would wake up crying and begging Oba for forgiveness. Oba was the most forgiving being, for his deep loyalty and love for Osamu was unwavering. He would go on to write stories inspired by these episodes. Oba would listen to these stories from morning to night, though he secretly disapproved of them. These incidents would occur several times during Tomie’s reign on Osamu’s attention. Oba wanted nothing more than for this sick, evil-spirited tart to be gone.

Osamu sensed the aura of anxiety in Oba. He stopped, patted his head, and said “daijoubu, daijoubu.” Oba was once again filled with excitement, for this surely meant that it was Tomie’s last moment with Osamu. They were to be no more. Oba was extremely excited at the thought, though wondered why the sudden change of heart within Osamu. He could hear water rushing nearby, which meant they must have walked far toward the Tamagawa. Oba enjoyed watching the water during the daytime, especially when the blossom trees were in bloom and their petals were falling into the river. The night was too pitch-dark to see anything of the sort, except to hear the water rushing unusually violent tonight.

 

“I’m here, Shūji,” a woman’s voice.

“I’m here, too, Tomie,” replied Osamu.

Oba shouted.

“Why did you bring this beast with you? Is he coming with us?” asked Tomie.

“He needed the walk,” said Osamu.

“Let him go, Shūji. He can’t follow us.”

Osamu took the collar and dog tag off from Oba and threw it into the Tamagawa. He took off his shoes and placed them aside. “It’s awfully violent tonight, as I expected. It should work this time. Are you prepared?”

“May we flow with the spirit of the river and may we blossom once more.”

Oba watched in desperation as the two climbed the ledge of the bridge and leap into oblivion. He ran, with all four paws dashing as if he were once again a puppy, to the banks of the river, though his body gave out as his age imposed its will. His joints buckled, and he howled and whined in desperation. He waddled on his stomach for what seemed like an eternity, before he realized all was lost. The weight of his sorrow was too much to bare, and he collapsed in his newfound loneliness.

– Luis Roca