Tamahome awoke not out of his own accord, but aware of a faint presence in his room. Everything was dark around him, and he looked at the large clock. It read 1:00. Tamahome sat up sharply, now alert at what was going on. By the foot of his bed stood a very strange man. His hair, which was short around his head, but his bangs stuck up in a bob, was a light, sky blue, and glittered slightly. His face was young and cheerful looking, sparkly cheeks and a thoughtful expression, and had not a wrinkle on it. He wore a pure white tunic with a dark, beautifully detailed belt, and held a long, gold staff in his hand. He was all a glow and light shined around him.
“Are you the spirit whose coming was foretold to me?” Tamahome asked in a shaking voice.
The spirit looked at him for the first time and replied, “I am no da.”
“Who, and what are you?”
“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past no da.”
Tamahome looked at him strangely, “Why do you say ‘no da.’?”
The Ghost of Christmas Past looked startled, for he’d never been asked that question before, “I...I...uh..no da...?”
“Never mind. Long past?”
“No. Your past no da.”
Tamahome thought, “What business do you have here?”
“Your welfare na no da. Rise and walk with me.”
Tamahome got out of his bed and walked cautiously over to the blue-haired ghost. The Ghost pulled out a kasa suddenly, “Step in no da,” he instructed. Tamahome regarded him with a skeptical look, but the Ghost, getting rather frustrated with this miser, reached over a hand and pushed him into the kasa. Instead of falling to a flat bottom, Tamahome fell through it and disappeared inside of kasa-space. The Spirit stepped in after him and disappeared also. They next reappeared out of the kasa and just outside a small school house. The Ghost instructed Tamahome to look in, and Tamahome widened his eyes at what he saw.
“This is the school I went to!” he exclaimed. He saw boys and girls running around and laughing happily. They all ran out and Tamahome’s eyes followed them longingly, perhaps wishing to be that young again.
“The school is not quite deserted no da,” the Ghost said softly, and Tamahome saw in corner a young boy, neglected by all the other children.
“It’s...it’s me!” Tamahome’s voice was soft as he gazed at the boy, himself at that age. The older Tama’s lip quivered and he shed some tears.
“Why do you cry no da?” the spirit asked him curiously.
“The boys and girls... they called me a monster! They called me Obake-chan! Nobody liked me!” Tamahome sobbed, recalling all this.
“Are you sure it wasn’t because you were mean and rotten to them no da?”
“No!” Tamahome yelled, angry, “I was nice.”
“Sure you were no da,” the Ghost murmured under his breath.
“I wish...” Tamahome started, still staring at his younger self, “...but it’s too late now?”
“What’s the matter no da?”
“Nothing. There was a boy singing a Christmas carol at my door last night. I should like to have given him something, that’s all.”
The Ghost smiled at this, and waved a hand, “Let us see another Christmas no da!”
They stepped into the kasa and came out at another scene. They found themselves in a large, warm room, and Tamahome spotted an old friend.
“Why; it’s old Nakago! Bless his heart; it’s Nak...” Tamahome trailed off, looking down and shaking his head. He looked up to the sky/ceiling/whatever and said, “Okay. Amiboshi I can forgive. But you cast ****Nakago**** as my old best friend??!!! What the f*** were you thinking???!!”
{Tamahome!} the author cried, {that kind of language is *not* allowed here. What the f*** were *you* thinking?}
“YOU CAST NAKAGO AS MY BEST FRIEND!!!!!???”
All that could be heard from the author was a soft, but maniacal snicker. Tamahome glared further, “You can’t do this to me, you know!”
Silence.
“Hey! You can’t ignore me!!”
Silence.
“You are *so* unfair!!”
And yet, more silence. Tamahome scowled, but decided the author wouldn’t answer him. He also decided there was nothing more to do but just go along with it.
“Old, Nakago. Bless his heart.” he said, almost flatly.
Nakago sat in a chair in the room, waiting. Soon, guests began to enter the ballroom, including Nakago’s beautiful wife, Soi. Also, came in a young Tamahome with another man. They approached Nakago, and Nakago cried happily, “Yo ho, there, Tamah..” he too trailed off, seeing who was his best friend. He didn’t put up as much of a fight as the older Tamahome had, but cast a death glare towards the sky. The author shrunk back against the chair she was sitting in in terror. {Don’t kill me Nakago-sama! I’m sorry!!} she sobbed, for she was deathly afraid of Nakago and his great and awesome powers. Nakago ignored her {whew!} and went on.
“Yo ho, my boys. No work tonight. It’s Christmas Eve.” Nakago said, eying the young Tamahome warily.
“Yes, ‘tis a fine party you have, Nakago.” the young Tamahome replied, lacking all feeling an giving Nakago the same glare.
“Thankee very much, Tamahome,” Nagako answered. They looked at each other with detesting expressions, then both made excuses that they had to go and greet other guests. The older Tamahome watched all this, then turned to the Ghost, “I remember this party clearly! It was jolly good fun!”
The Ghost nodded, but pointed to where the young Tamahome was now, talking to a young lady. She had shortish red hair and bright green eyes and she seemed happy and optimistic.
The older Tamahome’s breath was caught as he spied the young lady, “It’s..why, it’s Miaka.”
“You know her no da?”
Tamahome half smiled, “Know her? She..she was my first real love...”
The Spirit watched him, but turned his gaze back to the party, where the young Tamahome and Miaka had begun to dance. He turned back to Tamahome, “My time grows short na no da. Quick!”
Tamahome reluctantly left the party and disappeared into the kasa. They came out in a room that looked very much like Tamahome’s present day counting house. An older, but still young Tamahome sat at the desk, and Miaka stood before him with tears in her eyes.
“I have been displaced,” she said softly to him.
“What idol has displaced you?” he asked. But Miaka didn’t answer. She was soon glomping Tamahome, crying, “Oh, I love you still! Let us never be apart!!”
{Miaka! You are *not* suppose to be glomping Tamahome! He is a mean, cold, money grubbing jerk! You don’t like him! You’re mad at him!}
“How can I be mad at him?” Miaka exclaimed, “he’s Tamahome!!”
{Miaka!! Let go of him this instant and be sad again!!}
Miaka hesitated, but reluctantly let go of him and stepped back. Tamahome, who’d been listening to the author and Miaka argue neutrally, straightened his collar and began again, “What idol has displaced you?”
“A gold one.”
Tamahome sighed boredly, “There is nothing harder than poverty, and nothing can condemn it but the pursuit of wealth.”
“You fear the world too much,” she answered gently.
“Even if I have grown so much wiser, what then? I have not changed towards you, have I?”
“You are changed. The contract we made when we were young and poor and in good season, when you were a different man.” she retorted, her voice rising a bit.
“I was a boy.”
“Oh, Tamahome! I forgive you!!” Miaka glomped him again.
{MIAKA!!}
“All right, all right,” Miaka sighed and stepped back again. She got sad again and, replied, holding back tears, “Very well. I can see I am released from this contract. May you be happy in the life you have chosen!”
She turned and left swiftly, slamming the door behind her. The young Tamahome barely watched her go. The older Tamahome shed more tears and cried to the Ghost, “Spirit! Take me home! I wish to see no more!”
“I told you these were shadows of the things that have been no da. They are what they are. Do not blame me no da!”
“Leave me! Take me back! Haunt me no longer!” Tamahome cried.
Without another word, the Ghost pulled out the kasa and pushed Tamahome in. Tamahome fell through kasa space and landed on something soft. When he looked around him, he found he was in his own bedroom, fallen on the bed. He sighed deeply, glad to be back, but disturbed by the visions he had seen. But he didn’t have time to ponder them, for he fell into a heavy sleep.