The Songwriter's Funeral Song

XXVIII. That Time When I was Reincarnated as Mugi

The Songwriter’s Funeral Song
That Time When I was Reincarnated as Mugi

“Wondering why I’m still alive?” Mugi asked with a daring tone. I remained silent while focusing my vision in front. Mugi was driving back to my apartment. The events that happened earlier stuck in my mind. Even the smell of the room clung to the hair of my nose and left a sharp carving on my skull. What I wondered is if I could sleep that night.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, making me look at her.

“My curiousness is beyond your expectations. If you would like to discuss things with me, do as you please. I won’t be interrupting the pending information.”

Mugi drew a smile on her face. “Excellent.”

It would only take fifteen minutes to drive home. It would be enough to finish her story if she would only tell the truth.

“When I was falling that time, I can feel my blood escaping from my head then crawling to my feet,” she started, “I’m glad that I’m almost there to the freedom I wanted. But I missed the chance of having it. The devil thought I’m too cruel that I didn’t deserve hell.” She giggled. “Yurima… she’s the angel that punished me more, letting me go through to even painful, morbid life.

You see, the waters in the river were making their entrance into my lungs. I was going to die. My eyes were already shut. The pain I felt was already guiding me slowly at rest. But there I felt a heavy, continuous push on my chest. As I opened my eyes, I saw a lady with a concerned face on me, but that didn’t make me happy. I thought to myself, I will make her pay for saving me.

"Though, Yurima taught me a lot of things. I felt a little kind of guilt. I haven’t thanked her for making me experience a crappy life again. So that’s it… Miyako became a crooked Mugi in her second life.”

Just as she finished, she pulled the van’s handbrake and turned off its engine. She looked at me and smiled. “You have to take a good rest now. I will just prepare the things that I will be needing tomorrow. Don’t worry about me. You see, serial killers don’t sleep.”

Silence is what I could reply to. I only have a little time left. A word with her won’t change her instantly. Perhaps, she needs to be stabbed again and fall on the river. A bitter person like her will always be bitter.

I went off the van, leaving Mugi inside. Then I entered the apartment like I always used to. Knowing my end, felt like something was scratching my spine. Unmotivated to breathe… seems like there are no more things that I would like to fulfill. I won’t escape. I wanted this in the first place. Mugi would be my savior… saving me from this torturous life. I should calm myself now and have a good night’s sleep.

○●○●

Give me a pillow that’s soft and tender
And a white blanket that’ll serve as a cover
In my wounds, I’ve been counting over
Sing me a lullaby that’ll put me to sleep forever

“You like this kind of song, Senior?” Kaede asked as she watched me listen to the song from the Walkman.

“No,” I shortly replied and turned it off. It’s been three weeks since the investigation of Miyako’s case was dismissed. I’ve been sent to custody because of what happened but proven not liable due to lack of evidence. My sister’s body was still not found. I lost her, and what I got in return was my mother’s resentment.

“I couldn’t believe that our club president agreed to publish that song. It’s disturbing. Who would even like that song?”

“The ones who were depressed, obviously,” I replied and handed back the Walkman to her, but she refused to take it.

“No, keep that, Senior. That’s Miyako’s. I just borrowed it and failed to return it to her.”

Kaede—she came to visit me. I didn’t know the reason. It’s certainly not for Miyako, and it’s not because of the Walkman. It’s not for me either. It’s for the news to tell others, I thought. That’s how I read her deceitful aura.

“Thank you for visiting me, but please allow me to be alone this time. I’m not in the mood to have visitors.”

“I understand. I hope you’ll see her soon.” She got up and left my quiet room. It was so quiet that I could hear her footsteps on the stairs, the ringing bell from the bicycle outside, and the sound of the soaring plane in the sky. It felt so real. It felt like I was alive. What would dying feel like? Does it hurt? Does it hurt like cutting a wrist?

A ring on my phone cut my daydreaming. It was my workmate calling. It took me seconds to finally answer the call, but I let her speak first.

“Yuru! Glad you took it! How are you? I’ve heard, you’re done with your sister’s case. Are you going to return here? It’s been weeks now. We missed you already!” a jubilant tone rang in my ear.

“Is that it? Sorry, I couldn’t. I’m afraid I’ll quit. I know you understand.” Everyone would be glad after all. People rumor about me with their wrong accusations. They wrecked me, and they’re glad that I’m into pieces now. A word, like a wrecking ball, could destroy a strong person. I, myself applied that to Miyako. I saw her fall into pieces. I thought that if I could destroy her old self and build her new, it would make her even better. But I realized that I became in control. It was my fault. Miyako would be better if she built herself with her own hands. I should have trusted the process. I should have trusted her. Seemed like I was the one who was afraid of the future.

“But you have to return! We need—”

“Enough! If I said it, that’s it! I don’t need more talking.” I ended the call and threw the phone on the bed. I hated it. I started to hate people. I started to hate everything. Am I empathizing with my sister now? This is what she wants, right? Drive me crazy into this world? Convince those pretentious people that life really sucks? Life really sucks? Well, life really sucks!

“Yuru! Are you rotting yourself in that room?! Stop slacking and do your work! Dang, it! So useless!” Mom’s voice vibrated through the door. I didn’t inform her about quitting my job. I’ve just told her that I’ll be working at home. But if I would say that to her, she’ll blow in madness and will send me out of the residence.

If I quit my job, what would be my source of income then?

I started writing office documents and sent them to my clients—employees. I applied as a Whitehat hacker as well, and my income was not far enough from the pay I used to have when I was an engineer. In fact, Mom believed that I still have the work from that engineering department. But keeping secrets doesn’t last forever. Mom’s friend told my mom about my job quitting. Then a strange turmoil came in between.

“You liar! Now I’m so sure that you killed Miyako! You killed her! You killed your sister!” She threw everything that she could hold at me, and all I could do is to dodge and talk. But even with my talking, she’s not listening!

“Get your ass out of here! I don’t have a murderer daughter!”

And so, I left with my father’s old guitar—a buddy that I’ve been with since I quit my job. With its help, I could survive life outside the walls.

Then… I saw Miyako again, but a different Miyako this time.

●○ 葬儀の歌 ○●