Casey stared at Asuhara, whose face suddenly held the seriousness and gravity she would expect from a sensei.
“Quickly, now,” he said, “before Tami comes back. Unless, of course, you want her to hear the story, too?”
Casey looked at Death, who shrugged. “It’s up to you. Spill or split. I think those are your choices.”
“Our friend puts it very succinctly,” Asuhara said. “Spill or split evokes just the right spirit.”
Casey choked. “You can see…that?”
“That?” Death said. “Have a little respect.”
Sensei Asuhara rose, and bowed deeply. “You are most welcome in this room, Shinigami. I was not sure, when I first arrived, whether or not you were here for me, but I see now you travel with this lost soul.”
Death acknowledged the bow with a slight nod. “I seek to ease her path, sensei, although most often she does not view it that way. Now please, sit.”
Asuhara sat back down on his pillow, turning again to Casey. “Please, my dear, explain to me how you come to be in this place, with such an exalted companion.”
Again she looked to Death, who nodded gently. “Tell your story, love. Go on.”
Casey’s chin shook, and she pressed her lips together. “I…lost my family in an accident. I wished to follow them, but Death…won’t take me.”
“I see. And how long has it been since you have been home, to those others who are left, who know and love you? Parents, perhaps? Siblings? Friends?”
“I don’t know. A long time.”
He studied her face. “And as you think back on this long time, what challenges can you recall?”
A rush of memory flooded Casey’s mind—seemingly endless cold nights alone; miles of unfamiliar roads; days turning into weeks, turning into months. But more recently, passion in the back of a theater; Pegasus, scouring the earth to find her; a mobster bleeding onto the street; a good-hearted group of teenagers; the smell of Omar’s knit cap; a trucker, dying in her arms; Andrea’s blood on her clothes…
She shuddered. “There have been too many challenges to name, sensei.”
“I see. And how were you able to overcome these challenges? To go on?”
She gave a small, painful smile. “By following my own advice.”
“Which is?”
She closed her eyes and breathed through her nose, acknowledging the exhaustion in her body, in her mind. “To run. To always, forever run.”
“There was no other option?”
She pressed her hand against her mouth to stop the trembling. “I guess the other option would have been…to stay.” To turn herself in to the cops, to face Eric, to take the blame, to be with Ricky, to live in her own town, her own house, her own bed. To learn to live without Reuben.
“But of course you had your reasons to act as you did,” Asuhara said.
Of course she did. It was all about the pain. The pain of loss. Of living alone. Of realization. Of acceptance. And, ultimately, of moving on. That involved more pain than would be bearable.
Asuhara leaned across the table and cupped her chin in his hand. “And, tell me…” He looked at Death.
“Casey,” Death said.
Asuhara’s eyes softened. “Tell me, Casey, my dear, if you could, what things about this chapter of your life would you change? If you could go back to just after the accident?”
Casey’s chin trembled again, and her eyes filled. “I don’t know, sensei. I don’t know what I would change. If I should change it.”
The beads in the doorway clacked together, and Tamille swept in, holding a fork as if it were the Olympic torch. She bowed with a flourish, holding it out. “Your silverware, sensei.”
He let go of Casey’s chin, patting it gently. “Thank you, my dear. That should make things a little easier.”
Casey swiped at her face with her napkin, looking down at her lap.
“I’m sorry,” Tamille said, the fork dangling from her fingers. “Am I interrupting—”
“Not at all,” Asuhara said. “Come in and sit.”
Tamille returned to her pillow, and Casey could feel her eyes upon her. Casey forced herself to look up and attempt a smile. She could tell it didn’t fool Tamille.
A loud, tinny melody began playing in their small paper room, competing with the ambient Japanese music. Casey looked at the speakers, wondering why the restaurant would do such a thing. Tamille and Asuhara, however, were looking at her.
“Um, you gonna answer that?” Death said.
Casey blinked. “What?”
“Your phone,” Tamille said. “At least, that sound is coming from you, so I assume it’s a phone.”