Hisako found herself breathless as she surveyed the world before her.

  It was massive; a mountainside town that Hisako couldn’t see the end of. The world went all the way up the mountain—Hisako saw a large structure high above, bathed in snow. Below the mountain was a town—a sprawling American town.

  It was populated, too; dozens of cars drove along expansive roads, and people went in and out of single-floor shops. It was awfully inefficient, Hisako lamented. There were large gaps between buildings, and some lots were empty—it was no wonder people in America drove more than they walked.

  She turned around to watch the others join her and saw that the door had appeared in a hotel of some sort. She was on the second floor, and the hall was open to the air. The sign below was in English, so Hisako could only recognize the letters, not understand the words: “BLACK PINE MOTEL.”

  “Oh, how unique,” Koko breathed as soon as he entered.

  “An American then,” Dr. Moon said, “Or someone with a penchant for…”

  “American 90s television,” Kamui chuckled.

  “Do you recognize this place?” Hisako asked.

  Kamui shrugged. “Eh, it bears resemblance to a few settings of 90s shows I know of. I’d bet the owner of the door is an American—an expat working in Japan.”

  “Which means, they may be in here,” Dr. Moon said.

  “The door was still there, though. Is it different in America?” Hisako asked.

  “Doors are not banned in America. They’re rather common, in fact. Americans are taught how to avoid them—the comfort they have with the door, along with the education they’re given, makes the doors stay present in both realities.”

  “Hmm, but because of the door’s position, they had to stay inside or be in their apartment? That’s why they’re still in the door?”

  “It could be that. Doors are meant to draw their owner in for the Doorwalkers to devour. American doors aren’t traps like ours are—their doors have to make an effort to keep their owner inside.”

  “So this is the owner’s dream?” Hisako asked.

  “Something like. A reflection of the heart’s desire,” Dr. Moon replied. “It has to be more alluring to draw the owner deeper in.”

  Hisako looked out over the town. The people—Doorwalkers—all looked pretty happy. A barista handed a woman a mug of coffee, and they smiled and chatted at length. Two young men struggled to do tricks on skateboards, and a family eating at an outside table clapped at each success and encouraged at each stumble.

  There were doors everywhere, as well. Doors to the coffee shops, doors to the stores, and even the windows were small doors. Nobody seemed bothered by it, but everyone seemed cautious enough of the doors; they opened them and waited a beat, then stuck a hand through before following it.

  She frowned, wondering if America was really like this.

  Kohaku hadn’t mentioned that doors were normal in America; she wondered if they were okay. They’d looked okay, but they hid their troubles well, and sometimes they didn’t even know they were in trouble until it was too late.

  “Am I allowed to ask for your advice on clearing the door?” Hisako asked.

  “It’s always encouraged to listen to your team and discuss ideas together,” Kamui replied.

  “I think we should attempt to clear the door as if the owner is not in here with us, but to keep an eye out for them,” Hisako said.

  “I’m good with that plan,” Kamui said.

  The others nodded.

  “Okay, then. We’ll head through town. Kamui, can you advise when you find something? You’re the most familiar with the setting. Doctor, please advise as well if you think of anything. Of course, any insight helps, from any of you.”

  “Very polite,” Koko purred. “Flattery and kindness go a long way in Chubu.”

  Hisako bowed her head, cheeks a little red, and led them downstairs onto the roads of the town.

  The people stared. Children stared, and parents chided, even though they stared too. Workers gossiped as the Doorkeepers walked by, and passersby tried to watch them subtly. They all spoke in English—the only understanding was in tone, and it conveyed only the gist of the idea.

  “What’s at the core of this kind of show?” Hisako asked after a few blocks of what amounted to sightseeing.

  “Depends on the genre,” Kamui replied.

  “Feels like a drama. Seeing as how it’s a door, maybe a supernatural drama?” Koko suggested.

  “Set in small-town America?” Kamui chuckled. “Sounds exciting. If so, then maybe a home, or a workplace?”

  “If this person likes American television so much, what about a theater?” Hisako asked. She pointed to a large screen visible over a laundromat. “It’s an outdoor theater.”

  “A drive-in theater,” Kamui corrected.

  They rounded the corner of the laundromat, and Hisako learned what a “drive-in theater” was.

  The “theater” was a dirt-and-grass field with a handful of cars parked before a massive projector screen. Nothing was playing—it was way too light out to show—but people were picnicking and hanging out.

  It was mostly couples and families, so the lone, strange man sitting at the back of the field in the grass stood out. Hisako honed in on him.

  Fair skin, brown hair, and blue eyes, unfocused but fixed on the screen. An American. He didn’t look like a movie star or a visiting celebrity; he just looked like some guy. Perhaps a little thin for his height, or a little dour, but a normal guy nonetheless.

  The most remarkable thing about him was that he was wearing a suit—a simple, modern American suit, as the businessmen wore in news segments on TV. It was anachronistic and out of place.

  She knew this was their man.

  “Sir?” she said as they approached him.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  He turned those dull eyes on her, and she watched them sharpen, and his face brighten just a little. Unlike Kohaku and Hajime, he looked at ease and pleased in his door.

  He opened his mouth and spoke English as he rose to his feet.

  It sounded positive, maybe even curious, but Hisako couldn’t begin to guess the contents of his message.

  “Do you speak Japanese?” she asked.

  He asked a question back. She recognized the word “English.”

  “No. No English,” she told him. “Yes, Japan.”

  He pointed at himself, yet he still didn’t seem concerned. “No, Japan.”

  “He doesn’t speak Japanese,” Dr. Moon sighed.

  Kamui grunted and crossed his arms in thought, and Koko chuckled and sat on the hood of an empty, nearby car.

  “Hey, hey,” Hisako said, to catch his attention.

  She pointed at one of the many doors around them. She mimed opening it and making a run for it.

  “Help you,” she said slowly. She gestured to herself and her team. “We—” she cupped her hands and lifted them toward him. “—help you. Leave.” She mimed escaping the door again.

  His face brightened, and he nodded excitedly.

  She gave a thumbs up, and he copied.

  She looked around, miming scoping out the doors, then shrugged. “Which one? Which one is yours?”

  He tilted his head in confusion.

  “Which door?” She mimed again, pointing to each door, shaking her head “no,” and then finally shrugging.

  He began to nod slowly. He thought for a moment, then pointed up. Up the mountain, to the structure hiding behind the trees, and a cable car that rode up, over what had to be a ski slope.

  “Ah,” Kamui sighed. His sharp eyes slid to Koko. “Koko doesn’t do well in enclosed little coffins in the sky.”

  “We can crack a window,” Dr. Moon said lightly. “This world has doors; might as well use them.”

  “It’ll be fun,” Koko assured Kamui.

  Hisako gestured for the man to lead the way, and they began walking along the sidewalks. She fell into step beside him.

  “Hello,” she said gently. She pointed at herself. “I’m Hisako.”

  He blinked at her without understanding.

  She pointed at herself again. “Hisako.” She pointed at the others. “Dr. Moon. Kamui. Koko.” She pointed at him. “You?”

  “Sylvain.”

  She mouthed the name back, then spoke. “Sylvain. Okay!”

  She gave a thumbs up, which he reciprocated, and they fell into silence.

  With Sylvain by their side, the Doorwalker citizens of the town didn’t really stare.

  “They’re not hostile,” Hisako mentioned. “Hajime’s weren’t really hostile either. Is this normal?”

  Dr. Moon eyed them. They weren’t just not staring anymore; they were practically ignoring them, including Sylvain.

  “It’s not not-normal,” the doctor replied. “Sometimes, when the door’s world is more peaceful, the only hostile walkers are the larger, more important ones. The rest are just avatars of the world’s image.”

  “So, if this is a TV show, then they’re just extras,” Hisako thought aloud. “The ‘real’ walkers are important characters. What does that make Sylvain?”

  “He’s very well adapted,” Dr. Moon said. “When you were in your friend’s door, the walkers were all hostile, correct?”

  “Right.”

  “Your friend was troubled. Doors of troubled people tend to appear more often, but often, the average door will have a good percentage of non-hostile walkers. If the door is the representation of the heart, then the walkers are the representations within the idea of that world. A peaceful small town will have peaceful walkers, and only the troubles within that idea will be hostile—every town has its black sheep, for example.”

  “My big walker—the tiger—helped me last time I was in my door,” Hisako said.

  “You’ve come to terms with what the tiger represented. Your heart no longer fights to show you that issue,” Dr. Moon replied.

  “So, is Sylvain… homesick?” Hisako asked, looking around.

  “Old shows are nostalgic,” Kamui said. “If he’s homesick, he misses something that never existed or will never exist again.”

  Hisako frowned and eyed Sylvain as subtly as she could. He didn’t look bothered. He looked entirely at peace. Was this normal for Americans? All the doors around her were making her skin prickle, but that was just how Japan had made her.

  “He’s odd,” she whispered. “How can he be so calm?”

  “It’s better than being locked in his apartment,” Koko said. “It’s peaceful, too.”

  “I don’t like it,” she continued. “It feels fake.”

  “We don’t have to like it,” Kamui replied. “But it’s good to listen to your instincts. Don’t pretend everything is fine just because he’s acting like it is.”

  Hisako nodded.

  The city was thinning out as they approached the foot of the mountain. The buildings gave way to an empty road and a parking lot as big as two blocks, yet it was home only to an empty passenger van, a few personal cars, and a small gaggle of teens smoking at the edge of the lot.

  The cable car station was just as empty. They walked up the steps into the open-air platform, and found the operator wasn’t present—perhaps they were one of the teens outside.

  Sylvain stepped into the awaiting car, so they followed. Hisako looked around warily, then yelped when the doors closed, and the car jerked as it began to climb.

  “How is it going?” she asked. “Nobody is operating it!”

  “Noone from this end,” Kamui said, looking out the window.

  Their destination was but a speck on the mountain, but she could tell there was no car approaching them. The car had started just for them.

  “Maybe there’s a camera system at the station,” Koko guessed. He didn’t seem very bothered—none of them did.

  Kamui shoved one of the windows as open as it allowed, which wasn’t wide enough for anyone to climb out. He pulled Koko over to it by his coat, and the Doorkeeper stuck his head out happily.

  “He starts getting ideas in small spaces like this,” Kamui chuckled. “Not a good thing to be around him while he’s bored.”

  After a few long minutes, Hisako was sure she’d get bored if she weren’t so on edge. Koko had begun to snap his fingers out the window, watching as small sparks fell to the slope below and kicked up little bursts of snow—little explosions.

  A hand on her shoulder startled her. She nearly reeled back and punched the offending person until she realized it was Sylvain trying to get her attention.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, lowering her fist. “Sorry.”

  He didn’t look bothered in any way. It made her skin crawl all the more.

  He pointed at Koko and mimed an explosion with his hands, then tumbling. He pointed at the mountain and then made more tumbling gestures. He said a word, over and over, but Hisako wasn’t familiar with it.

  It clicked when he mimed something being crushed.

  “Avalanche,” she said. “Avalanche!” She shot up. “Stop, stop, he says you could cause an avalanche.”

  “Ah.” Kamui grabbed Koko again. “No more of that.”

  “It’s like fifteen more minutes,” Koko groaned. “Can I just go up?

  “No explosion, period. For now,” Kamui said.

  “Ugh.”

  He sat down with a huff and went to fiddling with the hems of his coat. Kamui sat down next to him, and Koko took his hand, running their fingers together along a stitch coming undone from what looked like wear.

  Hisako took a deep breath and turned to watch the town below fade into the distance.

  It was a sight she’d never seen before, and probably wouldn’t for a long time in the real world. Maybe one day, Kohaku would see a place like this and climb a cold mountain like this. She’d like to do that with them.

  It was a soothing enough ride, thinking about new things and old friends, but the feeling that something was deeply wrong would not fade.