The door was not the door.
It was not Kohaku's door that stood in a tiny clearing past a low bush.
She was drawn to it, a mindless curiosity and fear. She pushed through the bush to look at it more clearly.
It was entirely different from Kohaku's stained glass door. It was a white wooden door with a clean, silver lever handle. There was a peephole at about eye level, and a mail slot at the same level as the knob. It had six panels, four vertical rectangles, and two horizontal ones across the top above the peephole.
It didn't look like any door she'd seen in paintings or pictures from the past–not ones from Japan.
She stared at it for a long moment. Carefully, she reached out and touched it. The wood was smooth and cool to the touch, as was the handle. She didn't dare put pressure on it, nor did she get close to the mail flap.
She pushed against it finally. It was just standing in the woods–no frame, nothing to hold it up, but it didn't budge at all. She circled it and saw nothing on the other side.
Someone had just placed a door in the woods. Maybe it was drilled into a concrete base buried underneath the seamless grass. Maybe.
The chiming sound had stopped, but it couldn't have come from anything other than the door, as impossible as it was. The woods did not chime.
Hisako stared for a long time as if waiting for another ring to confirm it.
It didn't come.
She backed away slowly, keeping her eyes on the door like it might move. As soon as she made it past the clearing, she ran home.
She slowed only to avoid alarming her security guard, then sped up the stairs into the safety of her apartment.
For the second night in a row, she was too rattled to game. Instead, she ate her food, staring out the window at the park.
She was sure it was her imagination, but if she strained her ears, she felt she could hear the wind chimes. The sound was drowned out by the thunder of her shower and the brushing of her teeth, but when she lay in bed, it haunted her.
She fell asleep, too worried to remember she ought to call the police and report the door.
She woke feeling no better than she'd gone to sleep. She ate sparingly and left for work early, too uneasy to putter around in her apartment before work.
At work, she must've looked ghastly enough for the forewoman not to question her, because she was left alone throughout the entirety of her shift, as far as she knew.
If anyone had approached her, she would've been too stuck in her own mind to notice them. Her mind ran in circles, fearing for Kohaku, fearing for herself, and fearing the doors.
She didn't know what to believe. She'd never heard about people going through the doors, but she believed Kohaku had gone in. She did not doubt it anymore; as Kohaku was drawn to that door in the alley, the door in the park called to her.
She walked out of the site, distantly surprised she hadn't made any mistakes. Any other day, she would've been thinking about what game to play and who to play it with, or maybe she'd be walking to get dinner with Kohaku.
It had taken two days for her whole world to be upended, and, for as frightening as it was, somehow, she felt more present than ever before.
As she reached the park again, she strode towards the door. The door had taken Kohaku. A door, at least. She wanted them back. If they were in danger and she went back to her life, gaming and working, she'd never forgive herself.
At the very least, she could investigate the door and then report it, and then beg the police to find Kohaku's door and find them inside. She knew the police didn't go through doors–nobody did–but maybe if she helped them, they'd try.
She came to the door in the park once more. It didn't chime to draw her in; she was doing a good enough job of it herself.
She approached it without caution. She knew it was just a piece of wood, more or less. She shoved it again, with more abandon than the night before, and then again. It didn't budge, didn't open, didn't do anything.
How did it work? Did it open? Doors were supposed to open; she knew that for sure.
She kicked the mail flap with her boot toe, and it swung open, revealing a ray of sunlight. She jumped back in surprise at the sudden beam, which flickered and then faded as the flap swung and then closed.
She reached out with her hands, holding it open to peer through. She gasped.
On the other side, there was an endless field. Wind rippled a sea of golden-green grass, and the sky was blue above it. She couldn't see the sun, but it was radiant and warm in a way Hisako had never felt before.
It was a fantasy world–an uncanny fantasy of real life; nothing was ever that beautiful or that peaceful. It was too ideal, too perfect.
It had to be a trick, but she also had to know.
She put her hand on the handle. She gripped the slender lever and–
"What are you doing, miss?"
She jumped, slamming into the door out of fright. She released a sharp scream and a grunt upon the impact, then she scrabbled to turn around, back against the door.
There was a man in a thigh-length black coat, a simple white dress shirt, and black slacks behind her. He was probably around twice her age, with salt-and-pepper hair a bit shorter than Kohaku's and a trim, well-kept beard. He was quite lean but stood casually, making himself look smaller than he probably was.
Hisako did not know the man, nor was he familiar to her.
"What?" Hisako stammered, too stunned to remember to be polite.
"Were you going to open that door?" the man asked, a smile on his lips.
Hisako didn't know what there was to smile about, but it seemed genuinely eager and warm. It unnerved her anyway.
"N-no."
He smiled wider. "It's alright." He withdrew a badge from his coat.
Hisako didn't recognize the crest or the agency, but she could read the man's title.
Doorkeeper Amajiki Masaru. A-Grade.
"Doorkeeper?" she read.
"That's right. I was sent here to destroy a door," he said. "But not this one. There was another one, but its reading faded, and another appeared. This one."
"Th-the door in the alley."
"Yes." He looked at her closely. "I arrived too late to see it, but you did, didn't you?"
She nodded shakily. "My friend. They went into it."
Amajiki's eyes narrowed, and he regarded her with even more curiosity. "And you wanted to go into your door after seeing them go into theirs?"
"I-I didn't see them go in, but they must've. They're missing, and they-they were curious about the door. They explore a lot. Where else would they be?"
Amajiki nodded. "So what was your plan here? Go inside, find your friend? Doors aren't connected, you know."
"I don't know! I-I was just going to try to understand things. I've never met anyone who's gone through a door! The police don't!" She took a breath. "I just want my friend back."
"That's not true," Amajiki said. "You've met me now." He bowed gently, and she bowed back hurriedly. "Amajiki Masaru. A-Grade Doorkeeper."
"You go through doors?"
"I destroy doors for a living. That involves going inside, yes."
"Can you find my friend?"
"Perhaps. But they entered their door, and the door has disappeared. It's not so easy to get the door to appear again without them."
"But it's possible?"
Amajiki shifted his stance and crossed his arms. "Okay, how about this: if you go through your door, we'll go and get your friend."
Hisako blinked. "What? I'm not going through that door–Kohaku isn't there."
"You were going to do it, though, weren't you? Before I got here?"
She frowned. "That was before I knew you walked through doors for a living! How about this: if we go through Kohaku's door first and find them, I'll go through any door you want me to."
He smiled widely, and it scared her again. "You'd do that for a friend?"
"Yes," she said through gritted teeth. "Of course. Kohaku is my best friend."
"Best friend," Amajiki echoed. "Good. Follow me."
He turned and left more suddenly than Hisako anticipated. She had to stumble after him to catch up.
He led her back to the alley, but when they arrived, the door was still not there.
"Show me where the door was," he ordered.
She approached the wall, recalling exactly which bricks it had sat on. She palmed the rough brick. "Here."
"Describe the door."
"Dark blue. A big painted glass window in it. A round handle shaped like a flower."
"A window?"
"A big window." She nodded. "And you could see a strange city through it."
Amajiki nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, interesting."
"Doors… go places, don't they?"
Amajiki smirked mischievously. "Why ask questions? You're about to find out." He pointed to the wall. "Open the door."
She stared at him. "How?"
"You know where it was, what it looked like. It's still there."
He held up his phone. A strange radar application was open. A blip pinged faintly in front of a triangle icon, sluggish and dim. On the border of his screen, a stronger ping in the direction of the park pulsed urgently.
Hisako turned back to the wall. She felt along the bricks, finding where the handle had been. As she did, the air against the wall suddenly solidified.
Before her eyes, the door faded back into view. It returned in peels and tears, like watching a piece of paper unburn itself.
She flinched back as it became solid under her hand. "What–"
"You are their best friend," Amajiki said. "Only someone close to the door's owner could do that."
"What did I do?"
"You summoned the door back to our world."
"Our world?" Hisako echoed.
"Questions," Amajiki said, "and answers." He gestured towards the door. "Open it."
Hisako reached out carefully. She met the cold metal of the knob and took a deep breath, body tense and heart thumping.
She pulled, and the door opened with a rush of cool air.
On the other side was another city. The glass had distorted nothing; the city twisted and turned like a rock wall.
She stepped through with Amajiki on her heels. She was lost in wonder, looking around, turning in a small circle
The city looked like theirs, but frozen in autumn. The leaves in the trees were amber and shed dancing leaves endlessly. She stared at a tree for a moment; the leaves peeled from their original and fell, keeping the tree full.
A cool autumn breeze made the leaves whirl and kept the air crisp.
"Kohaku's favorite season," she breathed. "It's our city, but…"
"But perfect for Kohaku," Amajiki finished. "The world beyond the door is a person's heart given shape."
"It's beautiful."
Birds flew overhead in a marbled blue sky, and the sun burned gently on them. Their favorite konbini seemed to be on every corner, and gentle music filled the streets.
Cicadas chirped loudly from every direction, and jungle crows hopped around amicably.
She turned around to the door, and found it gone. They stood in the middle of the street–there was no alley wall, no place for the door to stand.
She hurried to where she remembered it being and threw her hands around, feeling for it. "It's gone!"
Amajiki nodded. "Of course. We're inside now. You only leave if it lets you."
"What? Kohaku has to let us out?"
He shook his head. "If it was that easy, Doorkeepers wouldn't be needed, would they?"
"Kohaku can't leave either?"
"Did you think they left you on purpose?" Amajiki chuckled sympathetically. "No, they passed through the door, and it disappeared in our world and this one. Getting in is always easier than getting out, isn't it?"
"What do we do now?"
"We find Kohaku and make the door let us out."
"How do we do that?"
Amajiki gestured around. "You're their best friend. Where would they go in this world?"
"And to make the door let us out?"
"This world is all the good and all the bad," Amajiki said. "There are darknesses to dispel."
"Darknesses?"
Amajiki gestured forward once more. "Lead the way. Questions and answers, miss."