TITLE: Shinigami Eyes
It's not like I killed him, so why are they treating me like this? As if I'm a frigging convict being shipped away. At least I'm going to Tokyo and not some small village devoid of civilisation.
My cousin, Haruka—someone I haven't seen in nearly ten years—walks down the aisle of the train. She's still dressed in her navy blue skirt and shirt with a navy neckerchief that makes her school uniform look like a sailor uniform. I follow, pulling my large suitcase along behind me.
A shudder runs up my spine as I hear the soft patter of anxious and excited feet that bounce along at my rear. I force myself to focus on where I'm going, and ignore the small Japanese girl with long black hair swishing behind her in time with her bouncy steps and pretend she doesn’t actually exist.
"Can you believe we're here?" The small girl, Misa gasps. For the last ten years the six year old hasn’t aged, and refuses to go away. "I've always wanted to come back to Tokyo."
Haruka lets me slide into my seat first, taking the window seat, and I force my bag into the gap between my legs and the seat in front of me. I rest my head on the black and grey chequered headrest and push the earphones into my ears, turning the music up to block out all of the unwanted noise —namely the loud talking from the girl who's not meant to exist.