I have a pet suspicion that planes are really temporal devices in disguise.

Every time I have been on a plane, the flight either takes only an hour, or what feels like twelve, irrespective of the actual amount of time the flight is slated for. What it is that makes this happen, I’m not entirely sure. You could certainly put it down to how you feel about your destination, or maybe what activities you have on the way there, but I don’t buy it.

For months I’ve been in a fugue state, content to sit and contemplate nothings rather than go out and get at ‘em. So, it was strange to me that a flight to Japan, a pretty lengthy flight, felt so short.

I made this decision to move to Japan quite radically, not a usual mainstay of my personality, for sure.

I’m what you would call risk averse. Maybe there are good reasons for me being that way, but when it really comes down to it, it’s usually out of self-preservation or apathy. Maybe I keep it well hidden from others, or they choose to ignore it out of politeness, but these emotions, or maybe states of being is more accurate, rule my life.

Nowadays I’m a little better. The benefit of good parents, I guess. Socialisation, the case worker had called it. Socialisation and learning to trust.

In the end there I really did try. I tried everything I could, but I’m not sure that I changed all that much from who I was back then.

There was a sharp sound as a crackling noise came over the plane’s PA system. The unassuming voice of the captain came over the speaker and talked about landing, and I just zoned him out, content to sit in my bubble and relax my brain before what was bound to be chaos for at least a few hours.

“Are you alright, sir?” I heard someone say from directly on my side, before gently tapping me on the shoulder. The feminine voice was heavily accented English, so much so that I wasn’t entirely sure that she was capable of having a nuanced conversation in English, having probably learnt the phrase for the job.

To avoid a possible misunderstanding, I looked in her general direction, smiled and nodded. That seemed to pacify her, and she bustled off to probably go tell that guy a few isles back to quiet down again.

Over the course of the next twenty minutes I felt the plane slowly tilt downwards, a strange experience for everyone, I’m sure. Thrilling in its own way. The moment before touchdown is my favourite, the strange little lurch before the pilot feels comfortable committing to putting down the wheels of the plane was something I adored for signalling the end of a long flight.

Not that I hated flying, but more that I’d rather be in a hotel room sleeping.

The plane touched down and slowly pulled into the little airport that Karakura had. Thankfully they had one, otherwise I’d be forced to endure another two, almost three hours of travel from the nearest airport. From here it was only a good ten minutes and I was where I needed to go.

Ten more minutes of taxiing the plane to wherever it needed to be, and I was gently tapped on the arm again.

“Sir, we have begun disembarking, do you require help retrieving your bag?” This was another feminine voice, smooth and unhindered by an overly strong accent. She was obviously much more learned than the other air hostess. I pushed up the thick lensed glasses that had fallen down my nose ever so slightly.

“Yes, thank you. Will I be passed off to someone else after we get off the plane?” I asked. I didn’t really need to know, but conversation never hurt anyone.

“No, I will be guiding you to retrieve your luggage and then to a taxi if needed. After that, it’s the end of my shift.” She said, a hint of tired joviality in her voice.

“Ooh, lucky.” I put on a faux jealous face and she laughed. “I’m Grayson, by the way.” Sticking out my hand in a rough approximation of where hers would be.

“Suzumi, nice to meet you.” She grabbed my hand and pulled it farther to the right. Almost had it.

“What brings you to Japan, Grayson? Meeting with family?” A question I’m sure she’s asked a million times, but a helpful one nonetheless.

“Oh no, I might be a half,” I gestured to my vaguely Asian features, broken by blue, lidded eyes and strong jaw, “But I don’t have family here that I know of. It was a diversity visa, apparently. Wanted a big change in life, and it seems like Japan decided to open its doors to any sort of diversity it could get for the first time in, well… ever.” I laughed, and Suzumi followed with her own peal of laughter.

“Ah, I’ve heard of it. Quite controversial at the moment. Many purists are not happy, but they are old now, new governance is making a push for a ‘better Japan’. Has been a long time coming.” I nodded thoughtfully. I had always heard that, at least in the past, Japan was relatively xenophobic due to relative global isolation and extremely low population diversity, but it was good to see that not everyone held the same values.

“Good to hear. The whole world seems to be going through a big change in governance these days. Politicians are quite a fair bit younger than previous decades. Almost everywhere is receiving some much-needed progress.” I could feel that she was nodding along. A progressive minded person it seemed.

While chatting about minor changes in the world she gently helped me from my seat and guided me towards the exit of the plane, leading me down a long flight of metal steps. The height of it definitely worried me, entirely too uncomfortable with not knowing how high up I was and feeling the warm, slightly humid air bushing past my face.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

As we slowly descended the stairs, one arm held tightly by Suzumi and the other clasping the metal handrail that I swear was too flimsy, Suzumi spoke again.

“A lot of Japanese business and business culture is opening up to outside influence. There is probably a political reason for this, but many people’s lives are changing rapidly in their workplace, and they are reflecting it into their regular lives. Its…” she paused for a moment, thinking of the right word as we stepped down onto the tarmac and she guided me towards the door into the international terminal, “endearing. It’s endearing to see the world change like this.” She said, her voice proud of her usage of the word. I laughed gently.

“Well, it’s allowed me to be here, so I’m not going to complain.” Suzumi laughed and quickly talked in Japanese to, assumedly, another employee before leading me through the terminal once again.

One thing that, without fail, throws me off about other first world airports is the ‘familiar, but not the same’ sensation. Simply being here, the smells were similar, mostly, the same flooring was used for basically any airport, either tile, weird carpet, or that weird plastic wrap stuff that I couldn’t honestly describe if I tried. But there were differences as well. The way crowds moved, the realisation that someone wasn’t speaking English in a private conversation, the smell of food as we walked by a storefront. The smell of a different chemical being used to clean the toilets than what I’m used to. All these things compound to give an uncanny valley experience, something that I prepare myself for every single flight, but always managed to affect me unduly. Suzumi tapped me on the shoulder gently.

“Grayson? Are you alright?” She asked politely, but there was an undercurrent of concern. I smiled towards where she stood beside me.

“I’m just acclimatising. Maybe coming to terms that this is possibly going to be my home for a while.” I could feel a spike of concern from Suzumi, a flicker of something entered the murkiness of my vision, but I pushed it down. My tone had been a little sadder than I had meant it to be.

“Are you sure?” She struggled for words after that, but simply let the question stand. I slowed the pace of my walk for a moment and thought.

Was I sure? Was I okay? Was I alright?

“No, I’m probably not alright, Suzumi,” I looked towards her and smiled again, trying to be as genuine as possible, “why else would anyone be so ready to leave their home and go somewhere else?” I laughed gently, politely even. Maybe she understood, maybe she didn’t. I couldn’t see her face to tell.

There was silence for a moment. I wasn’t a man uncomfortable with my own emotions, but I was unsure what Suzumi’s reaction would be. I could have potentially committed a terrible faux pas and would be forced to commit seppuku along with nine generations of my family, if they can find them anyways.

But it became apparent that it was contemplative silence. Maybe she knew a lot of travellers like me, seeking the new to drown the old, and had prepared a long speech over the course of several showers and restless nights.

“I see.” She said simply.

Or not.

But I could tell she cared about what I had said. It was… refreshing. Over the course of our short interaction I had uncovered a woman who cares, truly cares, about a total stranger. I could feel a bond form that escaped direct words, as she gently held onto my arm and slightly increased the tightness of her grip, I could tell that she had that same gripping attention.

It was then that a ribbon formed, directly in front of my eyes. I looked at it and felt an odd wave of calm. I tried to push it down and, as expected, I wasn’t able to. I could never actually push down the important ones. A soft peal of laughter escaped me as I looked at the ribbon that directly lead back to Suzumi. I could feel the concerned look but used my other hand and waved it away.

“I’m sorry, an old friend just popped into my head.” I grinned. I heard a rustle of hair and clothes, which I presume was a nod or some other gesture, before she realised.

“Oh, sorry. I nodded.” I laughed again, and I swear I could feel the blush on her face through the ribbon in front of me.

“It’s alright. It happens more often than you’d expect. We say so much through our bodies, it is hard to separate language from that. Even I do it on occasion.” I smiled kindly, directly towards where the ribbon led, shrugging for effect. There was a moment of silence where I felt a very specific question brew. I could tell it was coming, so I decided to take the pain out of it.

“Degenerative neurological disorder of some kind. They think.” I chimed in. There was a short, shocked pause.

“Oh, I’m sorry…” She trailed off, lost for words, the ribbon in front of me gaining a little bit of tightness to it. It sounded really scary to be fair. I just laughed.

“No, don’t worry about it. There is a reason for the ‘they think’. Honestly, they have no clue what it is that I have. I may well be the only person in the world with this specific set of symptoms. I even see ribbons, apparently as some sort of weird workaround for my brain to visualise people.” I shrugged. The ribbon loosened, relaxing to a happy state.

“I’m unsure if that is a good or bad thing.” She said, her voice still laden with concern, but with a joking edge to it.

I looked forwards into the murky fog that was the remnants of my vision. A cloud of murky grey, lights, and shadows. Suzumi’s ribbon drifted into my vision once more, vying for my attention. I chuckled.

“Why does it have to be either?”

We simply walked in a comfortable silence, enjoying the short smattering of words between us as we waited for my luggage at the unloading area. Then slowly made our way towards a booth that was going to link me up with a business that was effectively bankrolling my stay here, in return for me being a worker in their office. I had heard the term ‘white monkey’ jobs being thrown around, but it wasn’t like I was going to care if they picked me for such a simple reason.

Suzumi gently guided me along, surprisingly considerate of things that normally weren’t thought of by those with sight. No sudden jostling or pulling, gentle suggestions and not a single time were my feet were stepped on, or was I pulled out of the way of anything suddenly.

We arrived at the small booth and I greeted the person that I assumed was behind the counter. There was no response initially, so I tried another few times before I realised that the attendant probably just didn’t know any English and was effectively avoiding having a conversation with me.

I turned towards where Suzumi was standing behind me and she moved forward and began to speak rapid fire at the employee. It was a moment later that I heard some of the only Japanese that I know.

“What is his name?” The employee asked Suzumi in Japanese.

“Grayson Carter.” I said to the employee, lightly startling them, and then slowly going back to spell out the name letter by letter.

There was a moment of silence before the employee spoke some words that included “I’m sorry.”

I felt a strange foreboding sensation before Suzumi even turned to look at me.

“Grayson… The company that was accepting you went bankrupt a few days ago.” An existential dread pierced me, anxiousness hitting me in a moment. “Do you have anywhere to go?”

That one single question cut deeper than I expected it to. An open wound simply being cut wider out of pure circumstance. I closed my eyes for a moment, leaving only the pure white ribbon floating in my vision, radiant against the darkness of the eyelids. I opened my eyes and looked directly into the source of the ribbon.

“No. No I don’t.”