II

A week later, Yuri had not seen Yukio, nor had another incident with her fire alarm going off. She had decided to stick to pot noodles only, having ordered trays and tray worth of them. In fact, most of her cupboard space was dedicated to her ramen pots. Occasionally, the odd box of tea leaves appeared, but mainly it was ramen noodles. Her fridge was bare, except for a single bottle of cool purified water she kept. All the salt intake from the ramen made her thirstier than normal.
  In that week since her bizarre encounter with Yukio Tanaka – and more importantly, her first response to someone online as Auntie Suzi – she had got back a reply from the young boy she had sent advice to.
  His reply, luckily for her, was positive:

‘Dear Suzi,

  So many thanks for the advice!

  Me and the girl clicked well. I bumped into her in the canteen, and we realised we have a lot in common. In fact, it’s boosted my social profile.

  I feel so much more confident than I did before!

  Many thanks again!

     SINGREEN (0.0)’

Yuri grinned manically as she read over the cheer y message again and again, her heart bumping wildly in her chest, a feeling of satisfaction coming over her.
  It felt like the time she had given advice to Akiko, almost the exact same elation, the same feeling of being the God out of the machine. She had inputted herself into the computer, and came out the other side successful. She shed a tear. It was a beautiful thought to her, the idea to be able to influence the lives of others from behind a computer screen. No one would ever know it was her, but that was point.
  Who would listen to Yuri Kikuchi normally? Most people ignored her. Auntie Suzi however, she had authority, she had power. And, by that, Yuri Kikuchi had power by proxy. In control, that’s what she felt, in control.
  She feverishly scanned the rest of her notifications.
  Two new ones had popped up.
  They too, where relatively pedestrian.
  The first one was a woman who thought her husband was seeing someone behind her back. Yuri scanned over the message, but decided to come back to it. She was not sure if she was ready to tackle such a big one.
  The second one was a bit easier going:

‘Dear Suzi,

  There is this amazing guy that works in the local grocery store here in Osaka. I fall in love on sight of him! Every time I walk into the shop, he beams at me. I think he likes me too.

  Only, the problem is, he’s around 10 years younger than me!

  I’m 32, he must be about College aged, and I feel so wrong in my affection towards him.

  Would it be perverse to ask him out on a date? Or should I try and find someone my own age.

  Thanks!
  YuM_YuM_10’

Yuri squealed excitedly as she read it.
  32! Going after 22!
  How scandalous. Is this the sort of gossip she missed out on when she was growing up?
  She calmed again, waving a hand in her face to cool down her flustered self. She read the message over again, ready to key in her reply.

  ‘Hi YuM_YuM_10

  You’re both adults right?
 
 He doesn’t need mother and father’s permission does he?

Find out if he feels the same way, talk to him properly! Get to know him outside the shop, maybe he might surprise you.
 

  All I can say is go for it! I wish I did when I was your age!

  Good luck! And Many Thanks!

  Auntie Suzi.’

Another person helped.
  With a quick click of the mouse, she sent the message on its way. She felt even more impressed with her character. ‘I wish I did when I was your age!’ What a great line! That was sure to fool them.
  The same rush.
  This was becoming addictive.
  She took a moment, going into the kitchen to brew herself a mug of tea. She would go over the first question she had read.
  How could she tackle suspicions on infidelity?
  She had not had her heart broken by a boy, let alone married.
  How could she confront such a tricky situation, without causing a bigger riff, or ruining a possibly very good relationship by adding to this anonymous individual? It was a tough minefield to walk through, but as she sucked in a strong sip of warm tea, the steam bending into the void of her mouth, she decided on her reply:

  ‘Dear SukiSan1967

  I hope that you are not in too much turmoil.
 

I don’t want to force any hands without knowing many details. But, I will say this.

  Are things the same as they were?

  Are you, primarily you, happy in the relationship, or is this a wedge that you feel purposefully put in-between you and your husband a sign that, maybe he’s not cheating on you, but has just reached the end of the line for the relationship.

  In life, we have to be selfish sometimes, and that selfishness can be a great thing. What do you want from life, and your relationships? Do you honestly feel you deserve to be alone? Or, at worst, be taken for a fool?

  I would confront, and then assess.
 
  It might just start a new chapter for you.

  I hope this works.

  Aunt Suzi.’

With a shaking hand, she sent this one off, her free hand biting her finger nails as the ‘sending…’ message flashed up on screen, quickly accompanied by ‘Message Sent!’ Her heart fluttered. She had not even really read her reply properly. Was it genuine sounding? Did it work well with her character?
  She was not sure.
  She would wait for the replies.
  Suddenly, feeling zapped of energy, she looked at the clock. It was nearing 12 am and she knew she wanted to be up bright and early. She would probably have a few more messages by then, and she had begun to like the mornings for their carefree breeziness.

Yuri awoke at her usual time of 8 am. The sun was creeping ever closer up in the sky, and Tokyo’s skyline was a perfect black outline. The vivid lights that lined the offices and buildings were now overtaken by the pale white of the morning, the bright blue skies indicating a clear day.
  She had slept fairly well, but in her subconscious mind, she had vague visions of messaging, feelings of something big happening without her knowing it. Suddenly, she felt as if she was not in control. It was an old feeling, felt anew in the odd context of her new life.
  A few times, once at 3 am, another just before 6 am, she had awakened, stirred by the thought that someone was unhappy with her, or she was about to be booted out of bed and thrown away. She would look in the corner of the computer, having to stop herself from crawling out of bed to load it up and see if anyone had replied to her messages. She reassured herself that no-one would be replying at this time.
  Indeed, she also felt a sudden loneliness in the pit of her stomach.
  Sat up in bed in the darkened room, the entirety of Japan, even the world, outside her door, she chose to view it all through computer screen. She believed it was her way of engaging, without having to get too close. She remembered those close her leaving, getting up and walking out, abandoning her. A poisonous pit of anger bubbled in her stomach. She could feel herself frowning every time the thought crossed her mind. Then, she would calm. She had helped someone. The Yin-Yang of life, the Karmic balance being restored. For every slight against her, something positive would come, and visa-versa.

  The thought calmed her enough to sleep again. The second time she had awoken was by the fact she needed to pee. Any disturbed stirrings she had felt were slowly lost in the task of going to the toilet.

It was a month since opening her blog, and she was already getting 100’s of hits a day.
  News spread fast online, in the forums, the private chats, of this new person, ‘Aunt Suzi’ and her personable way. Her character was an online myth. Some idolised her quick efficiency, while others praised the down-to-earth and open way she discussed matters. She was turning into the internet’s go-to for advice, even prompting some Journalistic Bloggers to begin writing up on who this mysterious woman may be. While the praise was high, however, a few commented on the ethics of strangers needing validation from strangers. That, and a slew of copycats had begun to spring up. Aunties and Uncles, Uncles pretending to be Aunties, Aunties pretending to be Uncles, all were trying to catch the successful wave that ‘Auntie Suzi’ had been riding, and seemed to be balancing on, rising ever higher over the horizon.
  In truth, the cold reality she lived in however, Yuri was begin to fray.
  Her fame did not change her current situation.
  While she prided herself on being a success, on channelling her horrid life so far up to now, into a positive force to help herself and others, it was beginning to become overwhelming.
  She was only one person, and the weight of her advice giving was beginning to take its toll. Pedestrian topics were slowly becoming more and more controversial. ‘Should I get a sex change?’ one asked, ‘My husband hits me, should I stay?’, ‘I’m pregnant, and can’t have the baby, what should I do?’
  All these heavy topics flowed through her computer screen, their desperate and pleading tone causing despair in Yuri’s heart. Sometimes she cried when reading horrid tales of young girls being groomed by older men, sometimes even their fathers. Others were young boys, who had been taken advantage of by older men and women. It was all so morbid. She never expected any of this. She wondered for a moment, what drove people to be so public about such serious issues. She looked at their user names, the names burning into her brain as she read.
  She always wondered if they were real.
  Or, did the anonymity give them a sense of protection.
  Did logging on as someone else; their avatars sometimes cute cartoon characters, or cute animals, or artsy, well framed and modelled shots of themselves, give them a feeling of being someone else?
  Indeed, Yuri thought of her own desire to be Auntie Suzi. Was she just doing the same as these desperate souls who sought after her advice? She reflected on her introverted nature, the way that she had been through her life. It had been so liberating at first to find a way to communicate to the masses. She blamed the anonymity entirely. A bizarre sense of unreality came over her as she looked at the lie she had crafted for herself.
  She had to regain control.
  Getting up out of the chair, for the first time in a while, she turned on the large room light.
  She stood in front of the mirror.
  A gasp.
  She looked awful!
  Her bright eyes had become sunken, hollow looking. Her clothes hung off her body from all the weight she had lost, the ramen failing to offer her filling, nutritional meals. Her hair looked tangled up and greasy, when it had once been flowing. Her skin too, was pale. It had once been a glowing gold. However, with the lack of sun, the sunken darkness had enveloped her, causing the skin to pale slightly. Her room had made her look as if she had suffered a thousand winters, when in fact, it was the height of spring.
  Suddenly, she felt very ill, a sickening wave of dizziness overcoming her. She sat down on the bed. Her legs trembled, her body shook. She looked up again at the frail being in the mirror. She had begun to lie to herself, so much, through the computer, she had forgotten who she really was. Her persona of being a chubby, cheery woman had infected her. In reality, she was an ill, nutrition and sun deprived introvert.
  She felt tired again, the shock slowly draining from her system.
  As she drifted into sleep, she made a promise to herself.
  She would go outside, for a short walk along the front of the apartments. She remembered the fat landlord had said that there was a nice garden that she could go to down front. She did not even know it existed. She decided, in her last conscious thoughts that she would go down there tomorrow, and sit in the sun, away from the computer.

Yuri nudged the mounting pile of junk letters from her front door, clearing the path for her to leave.
  It was 10:00 am, and she was relatively sure that she would be able to leave the flat undisturbed and spend some time down in the garden. She still craved being alone, being one, but she needed to leave this damned apartment! More importantly, that damn computer! She looked at it before she left, eyeing it through the open door of her bedroom. A wave of guilt swept over her. She felt, in some way, that she was abandoning her child.
  She had decided not to switch it on that morning. The problems of Japan could wait. Auntie Suzi was on her tea break.
  Yuri made a thermos of warm Jasmine tea, gathered her keys and shakily made her way down to the garden. Looking over the edge of the railing, on the balcony that lined and connected the fronts of the apartments to the stairs, she could see the lush greenery. The grass looked real, and indeed the trees did too. They were starting to bud with the blossom of May. It was late April, and they would start blooming. The effect was much like snow, lingering on the trees in the winter. The way it whirled and wheeled on the cool Spring air was near hypnotising.
  Yuri remembered, when she lived in Hokkaido, the vibrant pinkish-white of the blossom as it lined the rivers and bridges in the rural parts. She was fascinated by how lush, how refreshing it made everything look. Eiko Yoshinobu had said that blossom was a sign of vitality in nature, the rebirth of life in the area. Eiko had said to Yuri, that in spring, she always felt ten years younger. She attributed that to the blossoms that hung onto the tree.    
  Much like people, they were delicate, and in balance. They could be torn away at any moment, carried away and left on the ground, to be swept up again by blustering wind. However, when treated right, and with the care and gentleness, the blossom would reach a natural end, coming away from the tree of its own accord. Yuri remembered nodding profusely at this.
  Maybe the elderly woman was not a nihilistic as she thought. Or, maybe she was seeing nihilism in beauty, and had attached herself to it as the perfect symbol of how weak people really were.
  Either way, Yuri saw it as a ‘glass-half-full, glass-half-empty’ opportunity. People would see however they felt.

  She made it down the last flight of stairs.
  As she had descended, she had crept quietly, trying not to rouse anyone from their room.
  Looking into the windows of the apartments as she passed, she was fairly sure most people were out and about, probably living their lives out in some office, or off exploring some new part of town. She hoped not to bump into anyone.
  Today was about her, and her recovery.
  As self-fish as I may have seemed, to her she needed to do something for herself.
  She had put in enough good karma in helping all those poor souls online.
  She reached the solitary bench that faced the open expanse of the garden.
  On shaky feet, she sat down on it, taking in a deep inhalation of breath as she grew accustomed to the light of the day. It was relatively overcast, and cold too. She had, luckily, brought a coat, draped over her arm, with her as she presumed with her quick weight loss – and a month’s worth of living within the controlled climate of her bedroom – she would get cold quickly. However she stayed surprisingly warm. The air was still warm. If anything, it was getting clammy and uncomfortable. Still, she did not let that deter her. Sitting in the open, she felt so exposed, yet so at peace. The feeling of warm fresh air on her skin revitalised her. Inhaling in a deep breath, she could feel her lungs expand and contract, almost stinging from the burst of vitality the deep breath had given her.
  How shallow, how unclean was the air she had breathed in her bedroom?
  How unnatural the light from her computer to the low-level grey that now bathed her skin.
  In the open light, she noticed her skin seemed almost snow pale.
  In a way, the trip outside had no other motive than to improve her health, but sitting in the overcast day, she felt mentally rejuvenated too. So many problems she had read, given to her in the strictest confidence, began to make sense. Their overbearing and heavy nature of their subjects did not seem so daunting.
  Eiko had been right.
  While talking about the blossom, Yuri had related the elderly woman’s words to the power of nature itself.
  Man was so obsessed with unnaturally breaking away from their nature, their primal needs for green and open spaces. They were told to prefer to be cramped away into cubicles, tucked away in booths and offices, sitting around long tables absorbing information at frighteningly high speeds. Demand on humans as a commodity was high. Technology had only made this easier. She thought about getting a phone, one that could browse the internet, and connect her to her social media online. But, she decided against it. She had no real friends, due to her circumstances, no family either. No one to immediately contact.
  In a way, at the time, she did not even feel the need to have something to contact emergency services, if needed. She had grown cosy in her own obsession. She would not be leaving the house anytime soon! And, if she was to die, she was going to die at her computer, trying to help, if not for her own sake, but for the sake of the people asking for her help. She would be a martyr to the cause. Or, in some eyes, a victim of her own obsession. Still, if she was meant to go, she was meant to go. It was not like she was leaving anything behind.
  Some of Eiko’s nihilism seeping through.
  The time outside had readjusted her.
  She suddenly felt as if this world, the world beyond the garden, was missing her. The feeling of the grass on her feet, the air on her skin, blowing through her hair, it called to her, begged her to come back out again. She closed her eyes. The peace of the moment took her.
  She had no way of telling the time. Not that she cared.
  She opened her eyes, some minutes, or maybe a few hours later.
  No one else had joined her.
  She held her stomach, a churning beginning to stir.
  She could not tell from the lack of sun what the time was, the overcast shielding her from the time, but she decided to go back up.
  Taking a quick sip of tea, she placed back on her flip flops and sneakily went back to her apartment, quietly opening her door, cursing the loud click of the mechanism in the handle as it activated. Entering her apartment, she was struck by two things.
  The smell and the bareness of it.
  Looking into the bedroom, it only had the computer, the bedside lamp. The bathroom had nothing but a toilet brush, and its fixtures and shower. The kitchen was empty, a lone kettle on the worktop. Not even a chopping board. The TV/Living room area only had a sofa and a chair. The TV did not fill up a lot of the room. The fireplace fixture remained untouched, something that had enticed her so much. More falseness. A psychedelic rabbit hole to hypnotise people into a world of false comfort. More unreality.
  She decided she was going to get some flowers, clean the place up. And most importantly, get some proper cleaning products, and clean.

She had ordered online, fighting the urge to look at her – or ‘Auntie Suzi’s’ - blog. It was important to disconnect the two. She needed to focus on herself. 
  The first step was cleaning the apartment, then it was to venture out more.
  In fact, after lunch, she decided she would go out in the evening. She would go to that bench, every morning and every afternoon. Give herself some structure. After swallowing down a lump of ramen noodles, she looked at the time. It was 3:40 pm. She decided to go back out again at 4:30 pm. Feeling refuelled, refreshed and, for the first time in a while, optimistic, she turned off the computer and went out into the living room. She settled down on the sofa, lying across it, her top half propped up by the arm. Turning on the TV she shuffled through the TV. Reality TV shows, game shows, a few dramas. All another layer of fake on modern life. People, pretending that reality was happening in front of them, while pretending to be other people.
  Like Yuri, the presenter pretended to be someone different, the contestant pretended to be more interesting, the actors pretended to be people living these twisted lives. Even the news felt unreal. The way stories boomed and bombarded her with headlines, experts and interviewees, news hosts pretending to care as they whittled off another list of casualties, or however much money was being sunk into something, or whatever new injustice was meeting the world head on. Some were even talking about the end of the world, the nuclear tensions rising up like the Cold war. This unreal reality, in some ways, depressed Yuri more.
  She turned it off, deciding to bring her trip out forward. She did not want to look at screens. She did not want to look at controlled, filtered, and emotionally manipulative reality anymore. She just wanted the garden, and the peace of being herself, alone.

Yuri was in that peaceful place once again. The feel of nature around her, the cooler breeze, the deepness of the dark, suggested to her that it was nearing night fall. She could swear she could hear a voice calling her.
  “Yuri.” It sounded close. “Yuri?” Even closer. In her head?
  “Yuri, are you awake?” It was right next to her.
  Yuri’s eyes fluttered open, and she was surprised to be caught in a pool of light. She was even more surprised to find the voice had not come from her head, but from the side of her. She turned slightly to her right, the face of another slowly fading into view, caught in the half light of the garden floodlight.
  It was Yukio.
  He had a dumb smile on his face, his lit up eye glinting gently. “It’s almost 7 at night!” He said.
  Yuri shook her head, as if to negate what he had just told her. In response, he raised his watch to her face, the back light illuminating the black digital numbers. It was indeed 7 pm, 7:12 pm to be precise. Yuri looked confused, first at the watches face, then past it to Yukio, who sat eagerly waiting her reply.
  “So?” She responded.
  Yukio blinked several times. He was struck by her bluntness.
  “It’s getting chilly. I thought you might like to come inside?”
  She looked at him, as if he were some sort of alien.
  Yukio wondered if Yuri was high on something, or in the throes of some drunken stupor.
  “I was just enjoying the garden. Not my fault time slipped away from me.”
  She turned back to face out over the green garden, to be met with the softly illuminated rim of the gravel.
  “Uh, I don’t think you’ll be seeing much else tonight.” Yukio responded awkwardly.
  Yuri hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with the young man. She wondered what he was still doing here. “I saw you leave earlier today.” He paused. “It’s good to see you out around.”
  Yuri ignored him.
  “After the fire alarm thing, you didn’t appear for a few months. I did come by to check in on you, but it always looked like you weren’t in.” Yukio said, a dry croak in his voice. He was nervous, his palms clamming up.
  “Is that so?” She responded curtly.
  “Yes. I, was worried about you. Even my mother was, and she’s never met you. I, wanted to make sure you were alright. You know? In fact, you’ve been rather hard to forget.” He slid up closer to her, shifting his buttocks up towards her. “You are quiet, and shy, and I rather like that. So many girls now a days are loud, and brash. They’re all on that social media buzz and wasting time talking to guys online. I’m starting to think we’re losing the human touch.
  “In fact, I think meeting you was a blessing really. Since a month ago, all I’ve been able to do it think about how you’re getting on, how you’re doing, what you’ve been up to. Have you even left that flat Yuri? Please tell me you’re as perfect as I imagined you to be?” He had crept even closer now, leaning in towards her cheek, his hand resting on her leg.
  Yuri sat, her eyes wide open, and her body bolt upright, as if being shocked by 10,000 volts. Her mouth went dry, her skin cold. She suddenly felt very sick. She felt her left hand, hidden behind her hip, clenching.
  Yukio was surprised at how close he was to her. Her soft skinned cheek just an inch away from his nose, away from his lips. He had never been this close to a woman before! The only other person was his mother, but even that did not crackle with the same intensity as it did now. That was his mother, this was Yuri. The girl he had always dreamed of, but never knew he had dreamt of until seeing her. She was a subconscious thing of beauty, something from his ancestral mind, a goddess, or past lover from an old life, back lit by apartment floodlights, shimmering like a jewel in the wards of Tokyo.
  Yuri snapped.
  Her clenched fist went flying, smashing the young man in the gut.
  Yukio folded in on himself, retching violently. Spittle flew from his mouth as he fell to his knees.
  Yuri stood up, shaking with rage.
  “Don’t touch me you creep! Leave me alone!”
  She walked past his quivering heap, sobs rising up to her. She ignored them.
  Yukio found the strength to begin to crawl. He felt sick. Trying to stifle vomit, he leant on the arm of the bench, digging his knees into the ground.
  “Yuri! Please! You’re all I think about! I love you so much, I need to make this work! Yuri? I’ve never known any other woman except my mother! It’s true!”
  Her silhouette hastened away up the steps, leaving Yukio shaking against the bench, crying out loudly. From a balcony, and elderly man leant. His face glared.
  “Hey! You little shit! Quit crying! What are you? A queer?”
  Yukio collapsed humiliated, as Yuri slammed her apartment door shut, fastening the bolt and holding it in place, leaning against the door.
  She needed a long, hot shower.     

Next Chapter: Part 4 - Bloom: I