"I'm home!" I shout with a straight face as I wrench open the white, painted cast iron gate, fetching my phone from my bag as I enter. 

"Welcome home!" I hear my mother's muffled voice shout from somewhere upstairs as I squint at the screen.

It's a message from my boyfriend.

"Didn't catch you at the usual spot after school today. You sick or something? What's up?"

The microwave that explodes in my chest whenever I see his name on my screen is replaced by a empty fridge. I can't think of anything to reply to him as I stand in the entranceway; instead, I stare at the key she gave me—a small, old-fashioned brass piece, shining dully in the red waves of the dusk blanketing the sky as the sun turns over the mountains. I roll it over in my hand, considering her request. 

With a deep sigh, I pocket the key, take off my shoes, and head upstairs to my room. The house is quiet, almost too quiet, as if it's holding its breath, waiting for my decision. I drop my bag with a thud by my desk, the sound jarring in the silence.

I lay on the bed, staring at the poster of Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin as the springs creak softly under my weight. My phone bounces lightly against the mattress as my arms fall flat beside me. I should text him back, let him know I'm fine, but words feel like too much effort right now. Instead, my fingers brush over the cool metal of the key, tracing the intricate pattern etched into its surface.

"Mari, it's dinner time!"

After undressing and slipping on a pair of blue jeans and a large t-shirt, I exit the room and shoot my boyfriend a short message.

"Sorry I didn't go to the roof after practice. New girl on the team needed someone to walk her home, and she had nobody else to go with her. That's all."

Before I reach the stairs, I get another notification from him, as if his eyes had been glued to the screen ever since he sent me that message. I've seen him become still as a statue whenever he feels uncomfortable, which doesn't happen very often, maybe once every couple of months or so, but whenever he gets uncomfortable, he gets really uncomfortable.

"Oh, I see." he replies, and for a moment, the text message bubble hovers and then disappears. The "typing..." indicator flashes for a few moments more before the final message comes through. "Wait, you mean Otogawa?!? The rich girl?!? No fucking way!!!"

I sigh and stick my phone in my pocket before heading downstairs; I can hear the echoes of my dad blasting a Sylvie Vartan song through the thick soundproof walls of his record room--La plus belle pour aller danser; he's probably leaning out of the window and toking on a cigarette right about now.

"How was school today?" my mom asks as I sit down at the dinner table.

"It was okay," I reply, picking at the food on my plate, my appetite as absent as my mind.

"That's good," she smiles, unaware of the storm brewing in my thoughts. "You've been so busy lately. You're allowed to relax sometimes you know, Mari."

I neglect to say anything in return; instead I shovel the food into my mouth mechanically, forcing myself to eat as swiftly as my stomach can manage.

A few minutes later, I excuse myself from the table, wiping my face with the napkin, attempting to deliver the plate to the sink before my mother wrenches it from my hands with a faint smile. I nod to her gently and close my eyes as I turn around; the next thing I know, I'm lying in bed. I had fallen asleep. I glance at the clock and it's 8:00PM. I still haven't replied to my boyfriend, but as long as he's not freaking out, I don't care. The moments of silence between us are more meaningful than small talk.

Immediately I pull out my phone and start typing.

"Hey, about Otogawa..." I say, muttering "dot dot dot" to myself as I type.

Ten seconds later he replies.

"Yeah, what about her? Did something come up?"

I begin to have second thoughts about telling him, but he's a background character at school just like me. It should be fine. I just won't tell him the details.

"She asked me to meet up with her at Taiki Park at 9PM, says she wants to show me something. Think she's up to no good?"

"No, never." he replies without hesitation, "Otogawa's no bully, she wouldn't even hurt a fly. Plus, what could she possibly have against you? Star softball player, that's about it. She could be getting competitive with you, maybe that's it, or maybe she wants to learn from the best; but I've never heard of her getting into fights with anyone, unlike Itoh, but she doesn't even know you exist."

"I'll keep you updated." I reply, before grabbing my things.

I grab a coat and slip on a pair of my boots as I walk out the door; the moon looms in the direction of Taiki Park, just above Mount Ibuki. The wind breathes through my hair as I exit the gate, but it's not very strong. I turn the corner and it's roughly twenty minutes 'til I get there, at the pace in the direction I'm headed, supposing there aren't any drawbacks. I might be early; hopefully I am, so I can hide behind a tree and observe, but if my boyfriend is right, then I won't have to worry about anything at all.

The streets are calm, and the occasional rustle of leaves beneath my boots is the only thing that I can hear; I forgot to bring my earphones with me, but if she really is stalking me, then maybe it's for the best that I listen closely to my surroundings. The air is crisp, heralding the coming winter; I pull my coat tighter around me. My mind is racing, playing out different scenarios of what could transpire at the park.

Taiki Park is familiar, yet it feels different at night—more secluded, more intimate. The moon casts shadows that sway with the gentle gusts of wind; I find a sturdy oak to lean against, with a trunk wide enough to conceal my presence. From here, I can see the park entrance and the carousel near the edge of the woods where Otogawa and I agreed to meet. The metallic paint on the umbrella fades more and more with each passing year; the umber patterns on the horses decay, chip away and float into the wind but the contraption still blends with the autumn leaves like a sepia tone filter. The clock strikes 9, and I watch the time on my phone with the brightness turned all the way down so as to not give myself away; five minutes later, nobody shows.

"What gives?"

Ten minutes pass. Fifteen. Twenty. Still no sign of Otogawa.

Finally I emerge from between the trees as the howling wind shoots past me, but as I search all three hundred and sixty degrees with an eagle's eye, there's still no sign of her. I resolve to go and dig up the time capsule myself, and it isn't very long before I find a crudely dug hole near the base of the carousel, just below a horse's head. The cold dirt stings my skin as I drop to my knees and shovel with the bare tips of my fingers, and a minute later, my pinky touches a rusted metal box. I dig in a rectangle around the top of the box and then jab my hands into the hole before wrenching it from the ground completely. The box is not locked but it struggles to open after years of exposure to rain water and sediment. The rusty hinges groan as I pry it open to reveal the contents inside.

There are only three items in the capsule, a photograph, a necklace, and a folded letter, though the paper is soft and worn at the edges. I unfold the letter first, neatly to avoid tearing it. The writing inside is faded but still legible, penned in neat and deliberate hand. 

"Godspeed you, partaker of my evil deeds!"

Before I can turn the photo over, I hear what sounds like an animal snorting, and in the corner of my eye, I see a black shape standing atop the horse; my heart jumps, though the black shape is not a boar or a bear, but Otogawa, fast asleep. She had been here the entire time, waiting hours perhaps, for me.

As the box rests in my hands I look at the photograph, and there are two girls, but I can see neither of their faces. One is a black hole, and the other is a white wall.