Transfer: To Board or to Alight? No One Will Tell You the Answer.
On his way to his grandmother's funeral, Makoto Shiomi wakes up on a bench at an unfamiliar, unmanned station. The sign reads "Kamitsuji"—a station name he's never heard of. A clock frozen in time, lights that smell of oil, and a single cat. Its collar bears the name "Haru," and the handwriting looks strangely familiar. When a train pulls in, the destination board displays the name of the town where his grandmother lived. The ticket in his hand already bears the punch mark of scissors. There is
Transfer: To Board or to Alight? No One Will Tell You the Answer. - "The Ticket: Only a One-Way Fare Was Printed."
The train car was warmer than expected.
The light hanging from the ceiling was not an electric bulb, but an orange glow that seemed to come from oil. The seats were upholstered in wine-red velvet, and only in the worn patches could the wooden base be seen beneath. When Makoto settled into his seat, Haru sat down beside him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The sound of doors closing came from outside the window. Before he could turn around, the train had already begun to move.
After a while, footsteps approached from deeper within the car. Navy uniform, gold buttons, an old-fashioned bag. A conductor walked slowly between the empty seats, approaching each one. When he reached Makoto, he silently extended only his white-gloved hand.
Makoto shouldn't have had a ticket. Yet when he slipped his fingers into the inner pocket of his jacket, he felt the stiff texture of paper. When he pulled it out, it was a ticket he'd never seen before. Departing from "Kamitstiji," destination the same three characters as before. The ticket punch had already left its mark.
Even turning it over, there was no return stub on the back.
The conductor held the punch without moving for a while. The blades hovered just above a blank space that hadn't yet been marked. His gaze flicked once toward the door behind Makoto, then returned.
Houses without lights drifted past the window. Only the roof lines were faintly outlined by the fading light.
Haru placed his front paws on Makoto's lap and stared up at him for a moment. Then, with sudden force, he pressed his forehead once, hard, against the back of Makoto's hand.
Makoto offered the ticket himself toward the conductor's punch.
The conductor nodded slightly and snapped the punch closed. A second hole appeared in the ticket.
The lights in the houses outside the window went out one by one. The warmth inside the car clung to Makoto's cheek, unchanging.
He recognized that warmth. It was the same temperature as the heater that had been burning in the room where his grandmother slept, last night.
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