Tara Perez leaned against the window, watching the colors of the Japanese countryside speed by as the sun reflected off of the snow. The light dappled her coffee colored skin through the double paned window of the train.
Her skin, nearly completely covered, itched. Despite the cold outside, the itch that flared across her burns had nothing to do with the temperature.
It had been almost three years since the fire. Three years of surgeries and agonizing physical therapy. This trip was supposed to mark the end of it all, a celebratory trip to visit the calm Japanese countryside, a trip to see her husband’s family. It was supposed to be a way to finally close this chapter of their lives. To finally let go of the trauma of her burns and scars.
As much as she wanted to feel excited, the cold air caused her skin grafts to tighten, and each movement seemed to pull and stretch in little uncomfortable places like a patchwork blanket of scars.
Kenshiro Perez, her husband, sat beside her, scrolling on his phone. His eyes, occasionally glancing up with the kind, soft, attentive gaze she had fallen in love with years ago. He smiled at her, a small but encouraging smile, before flitting back to his phone, annoyed at something on it.
Ken’s hair was longer now, framing his face in gentle waves, and he had a habit of absentmindedly pushing it back when he was lost in thought. He was always thinking, always planning—whether it was a project at work, some coding problem, or some side hustle he was trying to make work.
Since her accident Ken never sat still. Between medical bills, cooking, cleaning, making the house more comfortable, doctors visits, and working out, he was always on the move.
Tara reached out and softly touched his hand, interrupting his scrolling. “You okay?” she asked, her voice soft, but laced with concern.
Kenshiro looked up, his thumb pausing mid-scroll.
“I should be asking you that,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his tired eyes. “We didn’t have to come in January, I just… I want you to be able to relax.” he said, putting his hand sweetly on top of her wrist, avoiding the scars on her hand that were obviously irritating her.
She chuckled, but it felt hollow. “Stop. I’m fine. The cold is just causing things to feel a bit tight. I’ll be okay.”
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
He squeezed her wrist, his grip warm and steady. “Are you sure you’re okay? I don’t think either of us are over the jet lag and I know you need sleep.”
The train rattled as it sped through another stretch between small neighborhood train stations. Tara shifted in her seat, trying to ignore that persistent itch crawling up her left leg. Her body was ‘healed,’ but it wasn’t the same. The skin grafts across her body coated her leg and ankle, crawled their way up across her torso and covered her left arm. The web of tight skin was a constant reminder that her old self was long gone.
She adjusted the miniature Gameboy keychain on her bag, an old relic from her time working as a graphic designer and a reminder of a life before everything changed. She tugged on her gloves, fidgeting.
Ken leaned forward, popping a Mintia mint, his eyes scanning his phone as he translated the messages from his sister Aiko.
Ken murmured, half to himself. “Aiko says don’t forget to text her before we hit Abiko, so she can be there to pick us up. The stations should have English above the kanji so even Tara should be able to read them.”
“Why does she say stuff like this?” He grumbled.
“She’s making it sound like I can’t even read. I’ve been to the house, what? A hundred times? Just ‘cause I didn’t go to school here doesn’t mean I can’t navigate Osaka.” Ken muttered.
Tara listened, letting the sound of the train and Ken’s chatting distract her from the little pains and aches. She put her head on his shoulder as the train rumbled across the tracks. Trying to relax and rest.
As the train clacked along she began to hear a small whistling or whirring sound. The sound was something between the metal on metal of the train tracks and something else that didn’t quite fit, like a faint whistle or odd bottle rocket. She tried to push the thought away but something just didn’t feel right.
The train lurched slightly, just enough to make Tara sit up straight. She glanced around the car. A few older passengers exchanged nervous looks, their faces drawn tight with concern. The lights flickered again, this time dimming for several seconds before returning to their usual brightness.
“Ken…” she started, but he was already looking up, noticing the shift in atmosphere.
The familiar hum of the train had changed. It was subtle, but there was a new tremor beneath the noise—a vibration that rattled through her seat, the whole train, and into her bones.
As the vibrations grew, the train jerked violently to the left, throwing passengers against their seats. Tara gripped the edge of her chair, her heart hammering in her chest. The world outside blurred as the train picked up speed and the flickering lights above them blinked erratically.
“Ken!” Tara shouted, her voice drowned out by the screech of metal grinding against metal.
The train shuddered again, and this time it felt like the entire world tilted. Passengers screamed. Bags tumbled from overhead compartments. Kenshiro threw himself over her, his eyes locked on hers.
“Tara!”
Then everything went white.