Remember to Forget to Remember

Chased by a ghost in Shinjuku, Tokyo (fiction)

Hi friend! 

This week’s story is inspired by my exploration of Shinjuku City. It’s a ghost tale that attempts to capture the sensual overstimulation of one of Tokyo’s busiest districts while investigating themes of guilt and cyclic trauma. 

We’ll have three more newsletters centered around Tokyo before moving on to other places in Japan, namely the Izu Peninsula and the Kansai region. 

The first will be a fictional piece set in a Japanese jazz bar (also inspired by one of my recent excursions).

The second will be a travel essay about the history of Asakusa Kannon Temple.

And the third will be a personal essay about my experience volunteering at an international language cafe for the past month. 

For now, enjoy today’s story! After reading, feel free to comment your thoughts or send me a private message. I’m always open to feedback. :) 

Kindly, 

Macy 

P.S. If you’re enjoying Macy Sees The World, consider supporting this newsletter by upgrading your subscription for just $36/year. Paid benefits include access to Author Notes and monthly bonus short stories. Click the button below to learn more. 

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Remember to Forget to Remember

“Wait! You don’t understand! I have to tell you something!” 

The voice felt familiar yet distant, like an echo from a recurring dream. It repeated itself, only this time fainter, its words smothered by rumbling vehicles and chattering pedestrians. Within seconds, it’d completely succumbed to the cacophony of the cityscape. Still, the memory of that voice gnawed on my nerves. Where have I heard it before? 

I skid to a stop before a group of tourists dressed in heavy winter jackets, lungs burning as if someone had poured brimstone down my throat. 

One gave me a quizzical look but didn’t step out of the way. I wove between him and another woman, nearly knocking a pastry from her hands. He said something in Japanese, but I ignored him, shouldering my way through the group, earning wave after wave of angry looks. 

I didn’t care. He was close—too close. I could sense him from the way the tingling sensation was spreading from the back of my neck down my back. My breaths escaped me in sharp puffs. My fingers felt as brittle as icicles. The light blinked green ahead. The crowd surged. I allowed the momentum of rushing bodies to carry me forward. 

Shinjuku, Tokyo. I didn’t remember when I arrived. I didn’t remember when I began running from Him. I only knew that I had to keep moving. Couldn’t let him catch me. Couldn’t face him after what I did. 

I veered to the left and found myself on yet another crowded street stippled with neon signs advertising cafes, restaurants, clubs, pachinko slots, and clothing stores in a script that left my head reeling. 

Banners depicting steaming bowls of ramen flashed under the glare of passing headlights. A gust of wind caused a row of red and gold lanterns to sway against a storefront plastered with posters of half-dressed anime characters. The scent of warm cream pastries filled the air as I darted past a group of people huddled outside a bakery. 

Laughter echoed in the air. Heels clapped the pavement. Women dressed in parkas, their eyes aglow with glitter, stood outside clubs and restaurants handing out flyers to passersby. I twisted to avoid ramming into one, only to fall and scrape my palms against the asphalt instead. Wincing, I heaved myself to my feet. 

A purple and pink archway bearing the words “Kabuki Central Road” greeted me ahead. Beyond that, a model of Godzilla glowered from behind a movie theater. The tingle on the back of my neck intensified into an ache. 

This was the last place we went before returning to the hotel. I could still remember the way the light from the lamps shimmered like liquid gold on His cheeks. I glanced over my shoulder, searching for that shimmer. Nothing. Not yet. But I knew he couldn’t be far. Maybe he was standing on one of the side streets. Or maybe he was watching me from one of the second-story restaurants. The beating in my chest quickened till it hurt. I swallowed a cry of frustration and pressed onwards.

I didn’t mean for it to happen. It wasn’t premeditated. He must know that, right? He must. Even if I had tried to call an ambulance, it would have been too late. He’d have died anyway. There’d been only one logical thing for me to do, and I…I…Why didn’t I move? My hands knew just the right amount of pressure to apply. I could have easily finished the maneuver. Why didn’t I? 

The deluge of people thickened in the upcoming intersection until it became nearly impossible for me to squeeze through. Overhead, a 3-D billboard displayed a spaceship that popped out from the screen. Lasers blasted a smaller spaceship in the background, causing it to erupt in a bloom of fire and debris. People ooed and ahhed. Fingers pointed. Cameras shuttered. 

I scanned for an opening and felt my heart skip a beat. There, across the street, there He was. I’m sure it’s Him. Despite the brilliance of the lamps and advertisements, darkness clung to His limbs, obscuring His features, making Him resemble a living shadow. The tide of people flowed around Him, oblivious to His presence.

I grabbed a man in a long overcoat and pointed toward where He stood. Couldn’t he see? There! Right there! That shadow! The man threw me an alarmed look and yanked his arm back.

When I looked across the street, He had disappeared, leaving a glaring gap in His place. I sprinted towards the railway opening. A train screeched to a halt overhead. The lights in the tunnel flickered, casting the crowd in and out of oblivion.

I broke free from their ranks only to get elbowed into a tight alley covered with skateboard stickers and littered with cigarette butts. Two men with scraggly beards and nicotine-stained nails glanced at me as I passed, holding a stitch in my side. It took everything in me not to slow down and beg for a smoke.

The sweetness…how I’ve missed it. Just one puff. One puff wouldn’t slow me down that much, right? Something clattered behind me. I groaned and tore my eyes off that tiny ember of light glowing between their fingers.

He used to give me hell for smoking. It got especially bad the last time. I wondered if things might have turned out differently if we didn’t have that conversation. I’d been doing fine before he started nagging me again. He knew how delicate I was at the time. It’d only been three months since the accident. He knew not to talk about it. He knew it was his fault I didn’t help him as he lay writhing on the ground. He knew. The glint in his eyes gave it away.

“I thought getting your M.D. would change you.”

“We’re adults now. You can stop being the goody-two-shoes,” I said.

It was our last night in Tokyo, only a few hours before our flight back to the states. We were on our way from Kabukicho Road to the hotel. Our parents and his wife were coming from the other end of Shinjuku. Nola, his daughter, was with them.

The thought of her round, ruddy cheeks stretching into a smile as she skipped beside her mother and grandparents made my veins crackle with rage. Bailey would never get to skip again, never feel the warmth of her parents’ embrace. I took another drag to keep my hands from shaking more than they already were.

“I’m just looking out for you, Marcus,” He replied.

“Like how you’d promised to look out for Bailey?” I demanded.

He fell silent for a few minutes. I lit another cigarette during that time. Sucked that down to a stub. Then lit another.

“I’ll never forgive myself,” He said.

“You shouldn't,” I said.

“Mom still can’t look me in the eye,” He said.

“Good. She shouldn’t have to look at a murderer,” I said.

“Marcus—”

“I wish it’d been Nola,” I spat. He flinched on hearing his daughter’s name. “I wish she’d been the one to fall overboard and drown. I wish you were the one who had to lower your child’s body into the ground.”

“The boat was rocking too hard,” he said quietly. “Bailey was on the other end. I couldn’t save them both.”

“Trusting you was the worst mistake of my life,” I said.

He exhaled sharply through his nose. “I’m sorry.”

I ground the cigarette beneath my sole, though it was only halfway finished.

“I hope you never find peace, brother,” I whispered.

I slipped as I rounded the corner into another alley. Gasps of surprise rippled the air. Questioning glances swung my way. I scrambled to my feet, searching for a way forward.

Light from izakayas bathed the space in a harsh glow. Glasses clinked. Meat sizzled. Stools scraped tiles as people got up to leave. A canopy of faux cherry blossoms bobbed in the wind above the crowd, their translucent petals flashing from pearl pink to blood red.

This street was tighter, like a clogged capillary about to burst. I doubt I could bulldoze my way through the flow of bodies like I had on other streets. The lanterns in the adjacent alley flickered. I glimpsed a splotch of darkness slithering through the crowd behind me.

An icy sensation ran down my spine as if someone were caressing me with frozen fingers. I shivered, though my pits were drenched with sweat. My throat tightened. How did He find me so quickly?

Gritting my teeth, I launched into a sprint. Above the commotion of people eating and drinking, a voice—deep and garbled like far-off thunder—followed me as I ventured deeper into the labyrinth. He was saying something. Maybe a curse. Maybe a question. Maybe my name. I didn’t want to find out.

What would He do once he caught me? Yell in my face? Shove me as I did to Him? I breathed deeply as I dodged a couple pushing a stroller, trying to calm the panic surging in my chest. It was an accident! I didn’t mean for it to get that far. Nobody could have foreseen what happened next. The judge ruled I was innocent.

Mom and Dad…They knew. Somehow, Mom and Dad saw right through me. They didn’t say anything, but the way they would stare at me with that frightened look as if they couldn’t believe they’d birthed a monster told me everything.

I leaned against a table jutting from the mouth of an izakaya, gulping air yet feeling as if I was stuffing cotton down my throat. Was this how He felt right before He—

The ache in the back of my neck returned. He was getting closer. I lunged into another street, legs pumping so fiercely I could barely feel them.

And Cheryl…When was the last time she’d let me hold her? Kiss her? Did she hate me for failing to protect Bailey? Or because she’d figured out the truth as well? A vague memory of her waving some papers in my face edged to the forefront of my mind.

Tears streaked her cheeks like sparks from a dying firework. She was saying something, but I couldn’t remember what. This was the night I’d driven off, face burning from shame as much as from alcohol. The road had looked too bright as I’d made that left turn. Strange, I couldn’t remember where I’d woken up the next day. Or had I woken up here, in Shinjuku? I…I…Why don’t I remember?

I slowed. The rumble of traffic softened into a susurrus. I could hear my own breath. Even the sound of my heels hitting the ground sounded wrong—too loud, too isolated. I spun around. Where were the people? Where were the swaying lanterns, the steam billowing from the izakayas?

This street—I frowned as I observed a painting of a female character wearing a stiff, yellow dress. Her candy cane-striped legs extended into matching yellow boots, the paint chipping at the toes. Those eyes—They were as black as a starless night, as depthless as a parent’s grief. Why did they feel so familiar? I shuddered and hurried on my way. Perhaps I’d walked down this street the last time I was in Shinjuku. Was that before or after I failed to save Him?

“Have one,” He’d said, handing me a strawberry.

Its slick, perfectly sculpted shape repelled me. They’d been Bailey’s favorite. I stubbornly stuck another cigarette between my teeth instead. He sighed and chewed on the fruit.

“You’re not supposed to do that in here,” He reminded me. “Management might kick us out.”

I blew smoke at the floral patterned wall. “Whatever.”

“There’s no making it up to you, is there?”

I took another drag, resisting the urge to slap him. He had a habit of thinking He’d said something original when all He’d done was state the obvious. It was like that even when we were kids.

“This was a mistake,” He continued. “Mom and Dad were wrong. All this vacation has done is make things worse between us.”

“No,” I said, turning to face Him. “They were right. Spending time together was exactly what I needed. It showed me the truth: you’ll never accept that there’s no fixing what you did. You think Bailey’s life was cheap? Like a lost item whose absence you can cover up with some cash and time?”

My hands trembled. Red blurred the edge of my vision. “No matter how much I hate you, I’ll always hate myself more. You may have failed her as an uncle, but I failed her as a father.”

“Nobody could have known the waves would get that rough,” He replied. “It’s impossible to control everything, Marcus.”

“I should have known,” I said. “It’s my job as a parent to do the impossible.”

The alley narrowed till both walls brushed my shoulders, leaving me with barely enough space to keep moving. Grease from exposed pipes rubbed against my skin, leaving a dark, sticky trail that felt oddly reminiscent of another recent experience. Had there been blood on my chest the night I’d driven off half-drunk?

My teeth chattered. A window of warm, buttery light waited at the end of the alley. Colorful silhouettes signaling a busy crowd flickered in and out of sight. A few more steps, and I'll be free of the alley's oppressive gloom.

“Daddy!”

My heart skipped a beat. Bailey.

“Daddy!” She cried again.

Somewhere within that sea of faceless silhouettes, she waited for me. I envisioned her with arms outstretched and brows upturned, looking as she always did when she wanted to be held. Tears blurred my vision, and my breath escaped me in sharp gasps.

As I got close enough for the light to warm my skin, I felt Him. His nails bit my shoulders, shackling me in an iron grip.

The last time I saw Him, He'd been gasping, twitching on the floor. I’d held His hand and stared Him in the eye, watching His skin turn ashen, then a sickly blue.

He’d clawed at his throat where the strawberry had lodged like a plug. It’d happened so fast. I didn’t even know He had the fruit in His mouth when I’d shoved Him.

How could I? I had my back to Him only moments before. I didn’t see. I didn’t think. I didn’t even realize what was wrong until His eyes bulged and He began making that airless, rasping sound.

I’d hoisted Him into an upright position so I could perform the lifesaving maneuver, but then…the image of Bailey’s bloated body blazed through my mind. Bits of river grass clung to her neck like remnants of a noose. Foam crusted her ears and the corners of her eyes. The flesh lying there, slowly decaying under the morgue's fluorescent lights, wasn't Bailey. It was a prop. A mirage of truth. A thing.

I’d gagged. My vision had turned a violent red, then darkened. I thought I would drop dead beside her. Why didn’t I? Why didn’t I join her then and there?

My hands dropped to my side, and He fell with a thud, lines of shock crinkling his forehead.

“Shhhhh,” I’d whispered as I closed his eyelids to hide that terrible, terrible light glinting in his pupils. “It happened too quickly. You’d stumbled. I was in the bathroom. I didn’t hear you until I got out. I’d tried to save you. I really tried, but it was too late. You were unmoving by the time I got to you.”

The lies tasted sweet as I spoke them but bitter when I finished.

I held his hand as his chest fell still. A single tear glistened at the corner of his eye. It slipped down his temple like sparks from a dying firework—slowly, with regret. I pulled him into my chest and waited.

Though it’d been years since that night, I still haven’t been able to wash the bitterness from my mouth.

A horn honked around the corner. I steeled myself and shook myself free from the past. Bailey was still calling for me, her voice growing fainter by the second. I whirled around. A dozen excuses buzzed on my tongue. 

“Marcus?”

My blood turned to ice. That voice—that wasn’t my brother’s voice. No, it belonged to someone I dreaded even more. The shadow cloaking His features began to dissipate like a puff of breath in the breeze. It couldn’t be. Not Him. Please, not Him.

The face I loathed emerged from the darkness. First, that unshaven jaw. Next, those smoke-stained lips—pressed so tightly they melted into a crescent line. Finally, those hollow eyes, as black as a starless night. My eyes. 

I stumbled. Were it not for His hold on my shoulders, I’d have fallen. Even His uneven gait and the way He hunched His shoulders bespoke His true identity. Why didn’t I realize it before? I’d have run faster. I’d have run like I was running from hell itself. 

“I thought I was chasing—” He released me, eyes wide with bewilderment. “I…I…Where’s my brother? He was right here. I need…I need to apologize.” 

I stared him in the eyes. His grip loosened as understanding twisted His countenance. His lips parted. He stepped back. Without warning, He darted in the opposite direction, back into the shadows, away from the monster standing before him. 

I glanced over my shoulders. The light—I could still feel its warmth. And Bailey’s voice. She was still crying for me. My little girl. So close. I could just walk towards her and forget how much I loathed the person behind me, the person I’d become, the person I was. Her fingers reached through the light and curled around my wrists. 

“Daddy.” 

My breath hitched. She’d know the moment she looked me in the eyes. She’d know her father was a murderer. I could live with hating myself. Mom and Dad can hate me…my wife…my niece. The universe can throw me into an eternity of damnation for all I care. But I couldn’t live with Bailey seeing the truth. No, not my Bailey.

I tore my hand from hers and turned around. Something clicked in the back of my head, like the sound of a windup key returning to its original position. 

The alley walls softened into a haze. Beams of light sliced the ground into jagged pieces of stone and dirt. Colors blended like paint dissolving in water. I could hear horns honking and tires grinding against asphalt. Headlights flared like tongues of flames in the night. Heels clicked. A train screeched on its track. Neon signs bearing a foreign script blinked in and out of oblivion. 

Above it all, footsteps echoed around me like the ticking of a clock. Urgent yet rhythmic. I stumbled forward. There was something behind me that I was forgetting. A window of light, maybe. A voice. But who did it belong to? Was it more important than following those footsteps? I couldn’t remember. 

Another step brought me into a wide street brimming with pedestrians. Advertisement panels and neon storefronts drowned everything in a piercing glow. The light blinked green ahead. The crowd surged, and I allowed the momentum of rushing bodies to carry me forward. 

Shinjuku, Tokyo. I didn’t remember when I arrived or when I began chasing Him, that shadow whose presence felt all too familiar. I only knew that I had to keep moving. 

Guilt twisted my guts. It drew bile into my mouth and weakened my limbs. But He was close. I could feel it. That shadow. It must be Him. My brother. I had to find Him. Apologize. 

I twisted and peered at the wave of bodies undulating across the street. There! Beneath the purple and pink archway bearing the words “Kabuki Central Road”. I spied Him weaving through the crowd, panic radiating from him each time he glanced over His shoulders. 

“Wait!” I shouted. “You don’t understand! I have to tell you something!”