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“Hajime-san, how do you write your name?”
“I’m not sure,” he answers honestly. He cleans the glass, turning it carefully in his hand while the dishcloth slid against the surface. “I was never asked to write it.”
Amane looks up at him, brows furrowed. Hajime knows that she was about to go into her string of questions that led to eventual criticisms of people. Even though she is fifteen now, she still holds onto the same habits as when he first met her. “What about when they take your order at restaurants? Or when you have to sign stuff? Or when you get photography jobs? Or—”
“They’ve never asked me to write it. Just what it was.”
“They really never had you write your name?”
“Nope.”
She sighs and lets her forehead hit the countertop with a dull thunk. He vaguely hears her mumble something about how people could be so stupid, even in this day and age. He sets the glass aside with the others forming a neat row. Haruka, who had been wiping down the tables, comes back to rinse the rag she was using. It’s a quiet orchestra of crystalline clinks and wooden knocks and slow drips until Amane props her head up with her chin enough to say, “Why don’t you ask the Human Undead? It was the one who gave it to you, wasn’t it?”
He pauses in his cleaning. He had almost forgotten that the Human Undead bestowed his name upon him, much like he bestowed Hajime with a human heart. “I’ll try. It hasn’t seemed to be in the mood to talk lately.”
“What? That’s weird. Humans love to talk.”
Haruka laughs, “You would know that best, wouldn’t you, Amane?”
“Huh?! Mom!”
Hajime is grateful for them. He is grateful they forgave him when he told them the truth. He is grateful they accepted him despite it. And he is grateful that they try to understand him a little more with each day.
That night he sleeps and tries to summon the Human Undead in his dreams. To his surprise, a face like his appears before him. It smiles knowingly and, before Hajime can even say anything, starts tracing out lines in the air before it manifests into a visible thing. It was a name with several straight edges and few curves: a tree and window for the first character, three lines like rushing water for the second character, and a twined pair of lines next to what looked like a house.
Hajime tries to memorize the lines. He traces them with his finger slowly, trying to mimic the strokes in the proper order. The Human Undead’s smile grows wider as he practices. Hajime doesn’t know why, but a heavy feeling begins to settle in his stomach.
“You need to wake up now,” says the Human Undead in its multitude of voices—and in the next moment, he was in his bed. Hajime blinks awake and sleepily traces the lines of his name into the air before getting up.
He writes it on paper for Amane after they close the restaurant for the day.
“You actually got to talk to it?” Amane asks, grabbing at the paper excitedly. “Let’s see… Wow, this is actually pretty easy to read. I’m surprised!”
Hajime quirks an eyebrow and sat down next to her on the counter. “What do you mean?”
“Well, all the characters for your name are grade school level.” Amane tilts the paper to help him see better as she points to each character. “See, this first one, ‘ai,’ comes from the word for ‘mutual’ or ‘partner.’ The second, ‘kawa,’ is ‘river.’ And your given name, ‘hajime,’ means ‘beginning.’ You pretty much learn all of these by your third year.”
He swallows a lump in his throat as Haruka comes by to also take a look. His mind leaves their conversation of Maybe now you can print out some business cards for your work, Hajime-kun and Now, Amane, this doesn’t mean Hajime-kun can sign your permission slips or bad test grades so don’t even try as he focuses on the three blocks of lines on the paper. Partner. River. Beginning. As his eyes take in each stroke, something else began to reveal itself.
A tree and a window. Rushing water. Twined lines next to a house.
A meeting in a cabin. An oath to protect by the riverbed, beneath the bridge. A pair of two people embracing outside a restaurant, overjoyed at the chance to be reunited.
“Hajime-kun?” Haruka gently touches his shoulder and watches his expression crumple. “Oh, Hajime-kun, what happened? Did we say something unpleasant?”
Sheer emotion overtook his words and all he could do was cover his face with his hands, crying quietly. Amane immediately wrapped her arms around him tightly. Haruka rubbed his back. Hajime is grateful for their presence. But deep within the heart he was given, he hears it—“That should be good enough.”—and he realizes that what he truly wants is beyond his reach.
When he sleeps later on, the Human Undead appears once more. Perhaps it had sensed Hajime’s intense need to speak with it. The Human Undead lets Hajime’s words spill over, changing the air within their shared dream-space.
“Did you do it on purpose?” Hajime asks. “You are the predecessor of the human race—your influence and thinking is ingrained in them. When you genetically guided their evolutionary path enough for them to create a written system of communication, did you foresee this day? Did you foresee our meeting? Did you foresee the end to the Battle Fight that took place five years ago?”
“I am not an omniscient being,” the Human Undead replies. “I cannot foresee futures. I could not have known that we would meet. I could not have known the outcome to the previous Battle Fight. I could not have known that a human would give his life for you. Whatever meaning you prescribe your name is wholly your interpretation and is beyond my influence.”
“Then why you gave me such a name—where its meaning reminds me of what was and its shape taunts me of what could have been? Why did you name me Aikawa Hajime?”
The Human Undead does not speak for a moment. The air is heavy around them. It then answers, “I am a weak Undead. Sealing me would only give you the cosmetic benefit of being able to blend in with your modern surroundings. I could not give you any power. I could not give you any defense. The only other thing I could give you is the humanity that allowed my kind to prosper. And such a thing starts with a name. The first character represents our mutual residency within this body. The second character for the place where you and I first met. The third character is the wish I had for you to begin a new life now that I gave you a human heart.”
Hajime’s body heaves and shakes as he thinks back to five years ago and sees the image of a smiling face that crinkled equally happy eyes.
“Do you hate your name?”
He thinks back to all the times his name had been uttered. The apathetic referrals from fellow Undead. The coldness from Tachibana and Shirai. The mumbles from Kamijo Mutsuki. The familial tones from Haruka and Amane.
“I wish I did.”
He thinks back to that autumn day five years ago, where the warm lilt of Kenzaki’s voice spoke his name like a treasure meant to be cherished. Meanings in shapes and strokes cease to matter anymore because he remembers that ‘Hajime’ is the name Kenzaki called him by.