Takatsuki, Ruiko, and Yui all looked at Naoya and smiled. “Come on, Fukamachi. Let’s go.” Naoya went after them, leaving the assembly room. As they made for the exit, Ruiko and Yui declared they were going to make a pit stop at the bathroom, so Naoya stayed with Takatsuki in the hallway, waiting. “…Um,” Naoya said. “Just now… That voice?” “Hmm? Ah yes. That.” The corners of Takatsuki’s mouth turned up in a smirk. He looked amused, but not very worked up. Seeing this, Naoya thought, He doesn’t seem to be biting. If Takatsuki wasn’t showing much interest in it, then—that voice… Out of nowhere, the professor started talking nonsense. “Fukamachi, are you familiar with ‘Furuyamori’?” “What’s that?” “An old folktale. Outside a house, there’s a bandit or a wolf secretly keeping an eye on what’s happening inside. The bandit or wolf or what have you is planning to take and eat the residents of the house or steal their livestock.” “Well, that’s disturbing.” “It’s an old folktale, after all. So unaware of the threat, the old couple inside is indulging in a relaxed conversation. Before long, the topic turns to ‘scary things.’ The old woman asks, ‘Of all the scary things you’ve experienced, what scares you the most?’ To which the old man replies with either ‘bandits’ or ‘wolves.’ Outside listening to the old man’s answer, the bandit or wolf thinks, Aha! I’m your worst nightmare.” But then the old woman says, “If you close the door, thieves and wolves can’t get inside. But that doesn’t work against furuyamori. That’s why I’m most afraid of furuyamori.” “When the old man hears this, he nods and says, ‘That’s certainly true.’ And then he follows up with ‘Aah! Furuyamori is going to come any moment now! I’m so scared!’ Still eavesdropping outside, the bandit or wolf is shocked. There’s something scarier than me? it thinks in alarm. I don’t know what furuyamori is, but they say it’s scarier than me, and it’s almost here? What do I do?! I’m scared! And the bandit or wolf ends up running away.” “…So what is furuyamori? Some kind of big monster?” “It’s when the roof of an old house springs a leak.” “Pfft.” Naoya burst out in a chuckle, which made Takatsuki laugh, too. “I said before that there are various theories about the origin of the Night of One Hundred Horrors ritual, right? Actually, one theory is that the setting in ‘Furuyamori’ led to the birth of ghost stories and the ritual.” “Huh?” “Samurai retainers were made to keep watch all night to protect estates from frightening outside forces. It’s believed that, while they did so, they probably told scary stories to demonstrate that there were even scarier things around, or that they had experienced more terrifying things.” Intentionally creating something scarier that existed inside to dispel their fear of what existed outside—it was like a sort of spell, perhaps. Humans, powerless against a myriad of threats, tried to fight fear with fear. “When you consider ‘Furuyamori’ as the origin of the ritual, the dual narrative of ‘inside’ versus ‘outside’ is really intriguing. You have people inside telling scary stories, and outside—there are even scarier things listening to them.” Takatsuki flashed another grin. “So then I wonder what sort of terrifying things lurked outside while we sat indoors telling scary stories?” “Professor…do you mean…?” Just as Naoya started to reply, Ruiko and Yui returned. “Sorry to keep you waiting!” “Come on, let’s go! It’s fireworks time!” The girls urged them onward, so the conversation ended there. It seemed, however, that Takatsuki had some kind of inkling about the ghostly voice from before. They went outside to find some of the students already lighting their fireworks. They were squatting on the ground, watching the sparks fly with rapt attention. “Hurry up, Professor! It’s going to be dawn soon!” Hayama called. And indeed, the eastern sky was already starting to lighten. Their group offered their apologies and accepted their sparklers, three per person. They were also given some candles and matches, and the four of them formed a little circle a short way from the other students and squatted down. “I didn’t know fireworks were used to ward off evil,” Naoya said. “In a broad sense, they were,” Ruiko responded. “Since ancient times, fire has been considered a sacred thing that burns away impurities. It’s used in pacifying departed souls, too. I mean, we light fires to welcome and send off spirits during Obon, right?” “Plus,” Yui chimed in, handing each of them their three sparklers, “haven’t you ever heard, Dog Boy? The story goes that the Sumidagawa Fireworks Festival began after the great famine and pestilence of 1732 as a ritual to pacify the souls of those who died, and as a prayer to drive away disease. It’s said the loud noises scared off evil spirits, and the fireworks appeased the departed. It turns out this story about the festival was only created after the fact, but its very existence is proof of how many people believed fireworks had that kind of power. In which case, surprising as it may be, it might be possible to ward off evil with fireworks. And they’re a lot of fun. Isn’t feeling joy the best way to escape from bad things?” Takatsuki lit the candles and poured some of the melted wax onto the ground, using that to stand the candles upright on their own. “Although, sparklers are a bit meager compared with actual fireworks. But I couldn’t allow anything that would make loud noises or send off flashy sparks, naturally. Sparklers aren’t actually allowed, either, but we’ll just have to be thorough in putting them out. Okay, here we go!” Following Takatsuki’s instructions, they took turns sticking the tips of their sparklers into the candle flames. Once Naoya’s was lit, he pulled it back toward himself. How many years had it been since he’d last played with sparklers? The acrid smell of smoke filled his nostrils. Watching it closely, he could see the sparkler’s pointed tip melting in the heat of the flame, hissing as it curled. Once a vermilion ball of fire was formed, all he had to do was hold it still. The little red sphere began to tremble while it burned. The first spark burst out with a pop. “Ooh! It’s going!” “So pretty!” Ruiko and Yui cheered. Naoya found himself captivated by the stick in his hand, too. Pop, pop pop pop, pop pop—intricately branching golden sparks flew from the little red ball of fire in every direction. When they started to shoot out far enough that his hand was in danger of being singed, Naoya adjusted his grip on the sparkler. The sparks danced, never once maintaining a singular shape. One moment, they looked like a shining golden kirin in the darkness, then they were an expanse of tangled synapses, and the next moment, the fire contracted before the next sparks scattered furiously. Naoya’s hand must have twitched while he was engrossed in his sparkler; the ball of flame fell from the stick with a plop, and the sparks ended. Feeling terribly disappointed for some reason, Naoya looked down at his feet. He wanted to keep the next one going for a bit longer, he thought as he lit his second sparkler. But then… “An opening—” “—What? Hey!” …Takatsuki joined the tip of his sparkler with Naoya’s. “Do you have to be so childish?” “Come now, it’s fine. Just don’t move. We’re in this together now.” The professor looked like a mischievous child as he spoke. At the end of the two sparklers, a big ball of fire started to swell up with a hiss. “See, like this, you can create much bigger sparks. KenKen and I used to do this as kids. You’ve never tried it, Fukamachi? One time, we even lit ten of them together at once.” “This kind of thing? No, I’ve never done it. I mean, it says right on the packaging not to, doesn’t it?” “Sure, it does. But telling kids not to do something makes them want to do it.” The first sparks burst from the ball. Just as Takatsuki had said, much bigger and more dazzling sparks were flying out. Crackling and popping, they danced fiercely, brilliantly, vividly. Worried it would all end if his grip so much as shook, Naoya stared at his hand a little nervously. He never knew sparklers could create such a showy display. His hand grew restless as he held it in midair, and the radiant sparks made his eyes burn, but looking away would have been a waste, so Naoya just kept staring. Next to them, Ruiko and Yui had also joined their sparklers together and were laughing. Before long, the sparks were spreading out less and less, a sure sign that the end was near. They rained down like water droplets in little puffs before finally disappearing. The big fiery sphere trembled and fizzed before it, too, fell abruptly to the ground and vanished. “Aww, it’s over. Just one more now,” Takatsuki said, lighting another sparkler. Naoya held his over the candle flames as well. Watching the sparks intently, he felt an odd sense of relief. Maybe Hayama had the right idea with lighting fireworks after the Night of One Hundred Horrors ritual. He could hear people laughing all around. Naoya cast a glance in Narumi’s direction and found her smiling as she lit sparklers with Nanba. The fear from the dark assembly room seemed to have dissipated completely with the sparks from the fireworks. “…Ah.” The ember on Naoya’s third sparkler never fell; the sparkler merely burned out. Standing, Naoya looked at the sky. The sun didn’t appear to have risen yet, though his view was obscured by buildings. Nevertheless, the night was already on its way out. The indigo of the night sky faded right before Naoya’s eyes as light began to filter through it. The thin clouds hanging in the east started to turn a pale crimson. It looked like they were going to have another day of lovely weather. Thus, the night of one hundred ghost stories drew to a close. It was three days later that Nanba asked to speak with him. The campus was still open during summer break. Naoya was spending his time in the library because he could save on his home electricity bill that way. The library was air-conditioned, after all, and there was Wi-Fi. The reading room was also much less crowded than usual, so he could stay there for long periods without being a nuisance. He was at a desk in the corner of the first floor, finishing up his part-time work correcting essays when, suddenly, Nanba was at his side, peering at his face. “Hey, Fukamachi… Um, can I talk to you for a minute?” “Yeah, sure. I don’t mind. I was just thinking about going to get some food.” “Really? Then let’s go to the cafeteria. I’ll eat, too.” The main cafeteria on campus was also open during the break, except during certain periods. The food was cheap and tasted pretty good, which made the cafeteria a key location in the lives of students. They both ordered some chilled noodles, which were only served during summertime. As soon as they sat down, Nanba started to talk. “Phew, I’m so glad you’re here, Fukamachi! I went to see if I could maybe find you in the library, and it worked! What a relief!” “Did something happen?” Naoya asked, and Nanba hesitated a little. “Listen… Would Professor Takatsuki take a phone call even though it’s summer break?” “Huh?” “Well, it’s just, I wanna talk to him about something.” According to Nanba, one of his juniors had been acting a bit strange since the night of the storytelling ritual. It was the pale first-year boy from before. His name was Ooishi, and he was in the Law Department. When Nanba saw him during tennis club the day before, Ooishi had seemed off, so Nanba asked if he was okay. And then… “Ooishi, he said… He said he thinks his sister came to his place.” “What? But I thought his sister was…” Naoya stopped slurping his noodles for a moment and looked up at Nanba without thinking. Nanba frowned and nodded. “Yeah. She died in a traffic accident when they were kids, he said. During the ritual.” Ooishi’s voice hadn’t distorted at that time. He hadn’t been lying. His little sister had undoubtedly died in an accident. “You remember his story? About finding a flower by his pillow after her death?” “Yeah. The gesture of forgiveness?” “Yep, that. He said when he got home the night of the ritual, there was a flower by the garden door.” Ooishi had said he lived in a first-floor apartment. That was why he had a garden. And in it, right in front of his sliding glass door, a single flower had been left behind. “Couldn’t it just have been blown there by chance by the wind?” “Apparently, it wasn’t a kind of flower that grows in his garden. The same kind does grow in a neighbor’s flower bed, but he said there was no way the wind could have brought it from there to his door, no matter which way it blew.” “…Someone playing a prank?” “If it was, who would do that? Plus, you know, right at the end of the ritual, we heard that weird voice, didn’t we? It said, ‘big brother.’ Ooishi seems to think it was his little sister’s voice.” “But that voice was…” Given Takatsuki’s lack of interest, Naoya had been assuming the voice wasn’t a real supernatural phenomenon. But if that was the case, then what was with the flower in front of Ooishi’s apartment? Nanba looked worried. “Ooishi can be a real space case, y’know? I’ve got a bad feeling about this. I was thinking maybe there’s something Professor Takatsuki could do. Could we ask him?” “Sure, but…he’s probably in his office.” Naoya took out his phone and waffled for a moment over whether to call or send a message. He settled on a phone call. Takatsuki answered right away. “Hello? What is it, Fukamachi?” “Oh, um…are you busy right now? Nanba has something to ask you.” When Takatsuki said he had time, Naoya gave the phone to Nanba, who repeated the story. The professor was silent on the other end of the line for a little while, as if he was thinking. And then— “—I see. In that case, it may not be a good idea to just leave well enough alone. But your timing is perfect. I’ve also been trying to get in touch with Hayama. I forgot to ask for his phone number, so I sent an e-mail, but he didn’t reply.” “Oh! I have his number and his LINE info!” Nanba replied. “Then would you mind contacting him for me? Ask him to come to my office with the recorder he used during the Night of One Hundred Horrors ritual.” “Yeah! No problem! I’ll call him right now!” Nanba took his own phone out. Naoya hung up and focused on eating his chilled noodles. “Ugh, man, that guy never checks his LINE anymore. Calling him is probably useless, too… Whatever. Might as well try.” Clicking his tongue, Nanba called Hayama. Naoya, wondering if Hayama was in the cafeteria by any chance, decided it couldn’t hurt to look around. The university cafeteria was open to nonstudents as well. Possibly because the number of students eating there decreased over summer break, there seemed to be more customers from outside the school than usual. A handful of the men and women around the room were clearly office workers. Naoya couldn’t see Hayama anywhere. It would have been a pretty big coincidence if he had. Despite that, Naoya let his gaze meander around the cafeteria a little bit longer, and just then, he noticed someone he could not believe he was seeing. His eyes grew wide. On instinct, he shot to his feet, his chair clattering. Ignoring Nanba’s dumbstruck expression, Naoya headed straight for her. Waist-length hair. Classic Japanese features like a beautiful porcelain doll. A mole under her right eye. The last time they met, she was in a T-shirt and well-worn jeans, but today, she wore an off-white shirt dress. There was a large bowl of udon in front of her. When she noticed Naoya, she lifted her head so that the tremendous amount of noodles she had been slurping was hanging out of her mouth. Sucking the udon down, she gave him a broad smile. “Ah-ha-ha, uh-oh! You found me.” “…I’m not the one who found you, Miss Sae.” It was, indeed, Sae. The woman he had met in June at Inamuragasaki. Naoya sat down across from her. “What are you doing here?” “Eating udon, as you can see,” Sae replied, slurping up some more udon with gusto. It seemed certain the broth would have splashed, but there was not a single stain on the chest of her dress. Despite the vigor she ate with, her chopsticks were very tidy. “Hey there, glasses boy. How’ve you been? The summer heat hasn’t got you down?” “I mean, I’m fine…and you?” “Me? Well, I’m right as rain, can’t you tell? The udon here has a great consistency, and it’s so good. People really shouldn’t underestimate cafeteria food.” “Well, um…” “Yeah? What is it?” Sae smiled, tucking her long flowing hair behind her ears with her fingers. Not sure what to say in the face of that smile, Naoya kept his mouth shut. There were so many things he wanted to ask. After the mermaid incident in June, Sae’s whereabouts had been a mystery. All she had left behind were riddles. Was Yuuko really a mermaid? Was it really Sae in that old photograph? And if it was, why hadn’t Sae aged? There were so many questions, but they were all hopelessly stuck in Naoya’s throat. Because really, every one of those questions boiled down to— What the hell are you? But Naoya didn’t know if that was actually an acceptable thing to ask. After all, he would have a lot of trouble answering it, too. What would he say if someone who knew about his ears asked him, “With a power like that, what the hell are you?” As Naoya hung his head, at a loss for words, he felt something touch his head softly. He looked up, startled, to see Sae had her hand stretched out toward him. “Wh-what is it?” “Hmm. I wanted to pat you on the head.” “Huh?” “You’re a good kid, glasses boy. Yep, a real good kid.” As she spoke, Sae actually did pat his head with her hand. Naoya pulled away quickly to escape her touch. What was she up to? “Oh my, sorry, sorry. You didn’t like it? But you know, I just love nice boys like you.” “Wh-what do you…? It’s not like I’m particularly kind or anything.” “Mm, but you are, though. After all, you’re so attentive to a little old unidentified creature like me.” Sae’s eyes narrowed, looking like crescent moons. In an instant, her gaze turned pitch-black, and Naoya gasped. Sae leaned forward a little, her dark eyes drawing closer. Naoya’s instincts screamed at him not to stare too deeply into them, but he couldn’t turn his gaze away. It was a lot like how it felt to look at Takatsuki when his eyes were indigo. And yet it was different. Takatsuki’s eyes were like a night sky scattered with millions of twinkling stars. They were deep and dark, but they held a cold, clear radiance. By comparison, Sae’s held no light at all. It felt like looking into an endlessly deep, bottomless abyss. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the narration from a documentary Naoya saw years before sprang into his head: “Because the sun’s rays cannot reach it, the bottom of the deep ocean is a world of absolute darkness.” Surely, the blackness of Sae’s eyes was just like that. “…Hee-hee. You’re quite intuitive, aren’t you?” Sae said, still leaning forward, her hand moving. She snatched something up in her chopsticks and, before Naoya could even blink, shoved whatever it was into his mouth. “Here.” “…?! Wh-what?!” Naoya covered his mouth with a hand unconsciously, and Sae gave him a smile. “Don’t worry. It’s just a fish cake.” “F-fish cake?” “I don’t like them. So you can eat them for me.” She picked up another piece of kamaboko from the udon and thrust it toward him again while cooing, “Say ‘aah’!” “I—I don’t want it! Please stop!” Seeing Naoya shake his head furiously, Sae shrugged and set the fish cake aside on the edge of her bowl. Naoya was still holding the first piece in his mouth, genuinely unsure whether he should eat it or spit it out, but ultimately, he decided to swallow it. There was no way the udon made by the nice cafeteria ladies had anything weird in it…or at least, he wanted to believe that. Sae sat back down in her chair and resumed slurping up her udon. She had a really strong appetite for someone so slender. Then suddenly, the conversation pivoted. “By the way, how is Professor Takatsuki?” “Huh? Oh—yeah, he’s fine. I think.” “I see. Then could you give him a message for me?” “A message?” “Yep.” Sae munched and slurped her noodles, then picked up the bowl and drank down the broth. And then she said— “Tell him I don’t live there anymore. So there’s no use looking for me.” “Huh…?” Naoya blinked at her words. “Wait a minute. Do you mean…?” “He’s come to Inamuragasaki by himself a bunch of times since then. You didn’t know?” Naoya didn’t. But come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Takatsuki at all outside class during July. Between assignments and exams, Naoya himself had been busy, and the professor hadn’t contacted him. Now he knew why. But why? he wondered. Had Takatsuki really gone there alone? He wouldn’t get lost somewhere he had been before; that was only a risk the first time he visited a place. But still. “He must be looking for me or Yuuko,” Sae said. “But I told Yuuko that she had to stop coming out where people could see her for the time being, and I’ve already moved. That guy saw some kites flying around and looked like he was gonna faint on the spot. He shouldn’t push himself like that.” It made sense. Someone who was afraid of birds was bound to struggle at a seaside where the sky was full of black kites. If things went badly enough, he could even have lost consciousness. And yet Takatsuki had gone there by himself. Without saying a word to Naoya. For some reason, it felt like something was burning and shriveling up deep in Naoya’s stomach. He took a quiet breath, trying to push the feeling down, and looked at Sae. “…You’re worried about Professor Takatsuki.” “Yeah, well. Thing is, I’ve taken an interest in both Professor Takatsuki and you, glasses boy. Even now.” Setting down her chopsticks, Sae put her hands together in thanks for her food. At some point, she had emptied the bowl completely save for one piece of kamaboko. She was up out of her seat in the next moment, so Naoya followed Sae out of the cafeteria. Sae was stretching, her arms overhead, looking content. “Um. Are you going to see him?” Naoya asked her. “He’s probably in his office right now.” “What? No way! What a pain that would be.” “A pain?” “Because he’d just give me the third degree.” She was probably right. Takatsuki had a mountain of questions he wanted to ask Sae, which was likely why he had knowingly risked going to Inamuragasaki to find her. “Then why did you bother to come all the way here to our school?” “Because—” In a flash, Sae was leaning in close to Naoya again. He tried reflexively to pull away, but she held his face between her palms. “—I wanted to see your face.” They were so close to each other that they could have kissed at any moment, and Naoya froze in spite of himself. Her eyes, one with its accompanying mole, and her lips, which were red even though she was probably not wearing makeup, were right there. So, so close. Naoya didn’t know what to do. He wanted to push her away, but she was so small. Was it okay to push someone so thin? Then a scent brushed softly against the tip of Naoya’s nose, and he thought, Oh. It wasn’t perfume. It was a smell he knew. One he had smelled just the month before, on the beach at Inamuragasaki. That’s right. She smells like saltwater, even though we’re nowhere near the sea. As if she could read the subtle shift in his expression, the corners of Sae’s lips twitched into a smile. It wasn’t her usual bright grin, though; it was far more bitter. “Hey. Do you remember?” she said. “When I read your palm that time?” “Read my palm?” Now that she mentioned it, Naoya did remember. At the restaurant they visited in Inamuragasaki, they had their palms read in turns by Sae the first time they met her. But was that actually palm reading? It wasn’t Naoya’s palm that Sae had seemed to be looking into back then, but his eyes. “There are trials ahead… Make sure you don’t get swallowed up, okay?” Recalling what she had said to him then, Naoya suddenly felt a weight in the pit of his stomach as he stared back at Sae. “…Miss Sae. The fortune you gave me that day—is it still the same?” “Yep. It hasn’t changed.” Sae nodded firmly. That’s what I figured, Naoya thought. When he considered what the “trials” were, there was only one thing that came to mind. “I’ll say it again. I’ve taken an interest in both you and Professor Takatsuki. Enough to be pretty upset at the thought of something happening to you. So—this is a warning. Make sure you don’t forget it.” Sae put her lips close to Naoya’s ear. “You must not be mistaken in whose hand you take…not ever.” The words sounded like a prophecy. Flinching, Naoya pulled away from her. He pressed his hand to the ear Sae had whispered into. It felt like her warning, along with her breath, was still lingering there. “What does that mean?” “Who knows? What, indeed?” Sae replied, flashing him another smile. Then, abruptly, Sae looked past Naoya to somewhere behind him. She stuck her tongue out quickly, then said, “Yikes! Oh no! I’ve been spotted! Well, gotta run!” “Huh? What, hey, wait! Miss Sae!” “See ya, glasses boy!” Without warning, Sae dashed away. She sprinted across the campus in the direction of the station, her long hair flapping behind her. She was fast. How could she move that quickly in those dainty little sandals? And what did she mean when she said she had been “spotted”? Sae disappeared from view while Naoya was too busy being surprised, and he just stood there for a moment, stunned, until suddenly, someone smacked him on the back. “Fukamachi! Who was that?!” It was Nanba. Oh yeah. Naoya had completely forgotten about him. “Ah, sorry, Nanba… Did you get ahold of Hayama?” “Yeah, he said he’d be right over with the recor— Wait, hold up, who cares about that right now?! I wanna know about that woman! Who the hell was that pretty older girl just now?! Did I see her feed you something all cutesy-like?!” “It wasn’t anything like you’re thinking! She just crammed a fish cake into my mouth without asking! Anyway, she…she’s just an acquaintance of Professor Takatsuki.” “Yeah right. You seemed a little too close with her for that.” “She’s like that with everyone.” Naoya himself wanted to know who the hell Sae was. But he hadn’t asked her, in the end… He should have asked her. Takatsuki would have done it without a second thought. “What are you?” he would have said. At that moment, Naoya was grabbed from behind yet again by someone else. He whirled around in surprise to find Takatsuki standing there. His hair was a little disheveled, and he was breathing heavily as if he had just run a race. His expression was quite frantic. Takatsuki gripped both of Naoya’s shoulders hard, heaved a few more breaths, and gripped him again. “…Just now! She was here, right?! Miss Sae!” “Sh-she was, but…she left already.” “…………Aaauuugh, geez…!” The professor sank into a crouch as though all his strength had left him. He was still breathing hard. “P-Professor? Are you okay?” “…I saw her…from my office window…so I ran over as fast as I could…but I was too late… Fukamachi, why did you let her get away…?” “I’m sorry… Wait, you ran here? From your office?” He didn’t doubt that Takatsuki would have been able to see Sae with those eyes of his, but still—just how fast had he moved to get here? Exactly how good at running were he and Sae? Nanba looked down at the crown of Takatsuki’s head in confusion. “Huh, um? What’s wrong, Professor? Uh, are you, like, good?” “…Right, Nanba… Did Hayama…answer the phone…?” Takatsuki staggered to his feet and wiped the sweat running down his chin with the back of his hand. Naoya didn’t think he had seen the man this sweaty before; he must have really been going at full steam. “Yeah, he picked up,” Nanba answered. “Hayama said he would come right away.” “I see. Then let’s wait in my office. Both of you, come with me… Fukamachi, let’s talk about Miss Sae later.” “Good idea… I have something I need to say to you, too, Professor.” Naoya spoke in a quiet tone and stared hard at Takatsuki, who looked back at him in shock. “Huh? What? Why do I get the feeling you’re angry at me for something? I’m sorry, okay?” “If you know your actions are going to make someone upset, don’t do them in the first place! Anyway, an apology from you is basically worthless. Stop thinking everything will be forgiven if you just apologize!” “…I’m sorry,” Takatsuki replied dejectedly, and Naoya glared at him some more. Looking like a scolded dog, Takatsuki started walking. Naoya followed him in silence. He could tell that Nanba, alone in not understanding the situation, was trailing after them in confusion, but there was no way to explain, so Naoya just clammed up even more. …Sorry, Nanba, Naoya thought. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said such things to Takatsuki when he was guilty of doing the same. Sometimes, all one wanted to do was apologize. Takatsuki and Naoya visited Ooishi’s apartment the next day. It was located in a quiet residential neighborhood a little ways from the station. Nanba had contacted Ooishi in advance for them, so the boy knew to expect a visit. “Hello, welcome. It’s a small place, but please come in.” Ooishi’s face when he greeted them was much brighter than anticipated. According to what Nanba said, he had been so absent-minded that it was worrying. But that wasn’t the impression he gave now. His studio apartment was clean and tidy. He must have been the organized type, as he had his textbooks and magazines stored neatly in a veneer bookshelf. There was a laptop on the low table in the center of the room, but Ooishi immediately put it aside and brought out some cold barley tea from the refrigerator. It wasn’t the kind that came in a plastic bottle; it looked homemade. At the end of the room was a sliding glass door. Next to it sat a bag of dry cat food and a cat toy. Kneeling at the low table, Takatsuki cast his gaze toward the glass door. “You really do get cats here, don’t you? And that garden—is that where the ‘woman in white’ you mentioned was crawling around?” “Ah, yes. But other than the part about the cats, that was all made-up, of course.” Ooishi gave a wry smile. Takatsuki grinned back and nodded. “But the story about your sister’s ghost visiting you wasn’t made-up, was it?” “…That’s right,” Ooishi replied, casting his eyes down slightly. “Did you save that flower?” Takatsuki asked, his voice gentle. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to see it.” “Sure.” Getting up, Ooishi took a travel-sized law-compendium book from the shelf and flipped open its cover. Inside was a pressed flower affixed to some backing paper. “My sister always made these out of the flowers I gave her to apologize. This time, I made one, too.” “Yes, it’s lovely. Ah, this is an impatiens; you see these a lot in summer flower beds. But why are there three of them here? I heard it was just the one. Your making-up tradition only involved one flower, yes?” There were three pressed flowers, each on its own paper with its round, pink petals fixed in place. “Well,” Ooishi said. “There’s been another flower every day since then… I haven’t seen one yet today, though it may show up in a little while. Really, what is she thinking…?” Smiling softly, he looked down at the flowers. There was no trace of confusion or fear in his face. His sister’s spirit was bringing him flowers. He seemed to be accepting that strangeness at face value. Carefully returning the pressed flowers to their place, Ooishi came back to the low table. He knelt, his posture upright, and suddenly turned to Takatsuki with an anxious expression. “…Um, do you think I’m crazy?” “Hmm? Why do you ask?” Takatsuki asked with a soft chuckle and a tilt of his head. Ooishi scratched his own head and continued, “I mean, after I said my sister’s ghost came here, Nanba got worried that I might be insane, right? That’s why he sent you here.” “Well, Nanba is indeed worried about you. But I don’t think you’re crazy. I just wanted to hear what you had to say.” Takatsuki picked up a glass of barley tea and smiled. “Although, if it really is a ghost coming here, I’ll be quite jealous. I’ve still never seen a real one.” “…Oh yeah, you study scary stories, don’t you, Professor?” Ooishi’s expression was hard to place. It seemed like he couldn’t make heads or tails of a university professor being envious of a ghostly visit. Naoya knew how he felt. In the beginning, he hadn’t even considered ghosts or urban legends as topics for academic research, and he still couldn’t relate to Takatsuki’s obsession with the supernatural. “Aren’t you scared, Ooishi? Of being visited by your sister’s ghost.” “No, not really.” Ooishi answered Takatsuki’s question readily. “I guess I was a little scared at first. But once I reminded myself that it’s just my little sister, I stopped being so frightened… During the Night of One Hundred Horrors ritual, I ended up talking about her because I couldn’t think of another topic. While I was talking, it was like I was overcome with a feeling of guilt.” His sister had died when she was still in the early years of elementary school, but he… Ooishi, her older brother, had safely become a college student and spent his days having fun. Most days, he barely even thought about his little sister. During the ritual, Ooishi had felt from the bottom of his heart that he was a horrible big brother. He thought his sister must be furious that he still got to enjoy life. That was why, he said, she must have come to him on purpose. “I think she’s leaving me the flowers to say, ‘Don’t worry about it anymore. I’m not angry or anything.’ Obon is coming up, so she must have returned early.” Takatsuki listened to him, nodding gently. At his side, eyes slightly lowered, Naoya listened, too. Both he and Takatsuki already knew—the voice they heard at the end of the storytelling ritual didn’t really belong to Ooishi’s sister at all. The day before, Takatsuki had called Hayama to his office and asked him all about it. When he first arrived at the office, Hayama looked rather proud of himself. He assumed he’d been asked to bring his digital recorder there because Takatsuki wanted to use his recordings of the Night of One Hundred Horrors ritual as research material. “Ah, I’m really sorry, Professor! You e-mailed me, didn’t you? I’ve been a little busy. I’m so sorry I couldn’t reply! Here’s the recorder from before. People don’t do the Night of One Hundred Horrors ritual often these days, so I suppose it’s a valuable resource in that sense. Please feel free to make copies of the audio.” “Right, thank you, but I don’t need a copy. I remember it all.” Takatsuki smiled brightly at Hayama as he was handed the recorder. “Huh, you remember…?! What, all one hundred stories?! It took about eight hours, you know?!” “Yep. My memory has always been a bit better than the average person’s. Please sit, Hayama. Would you like some coffee? Or maybe some hot cocoa today?” “Oh, coffee, please… Wait, you’re serious about remembering it all? That wasn’t a joke?” Hayama lowered himself into one of the folding chairs, looking incredulous. Having likely visited the office before to discuss the details of the ritual, Hayama was unfazed when he received his coffee in the Great Buddha mug. He looked more interested in Naoya and Nanba, who were sitting across the table watching him. He didn’t seem to know why they were there. Sitting down in the seat beside Hayama, Takatsuki smiled again. “I’m sorry for calling you here while you’re busy. During summer vacation, too—that must be rough. Are you working part-time or something like that?” “Oh, no. I’m editing the audio from the Night of One Hundred Horrors ritual.” “Editing?” “Yeah! I really love ghost stories, and I want to start a video channel! There were a lot of interesting stories in the ritual we did, plus what happened at the end. So I was thinking of making a video where I listen to the audio with friends and give commentary. Oh—and if you want to, you could make an appearance, too, Professor! I’m sure the channel’s views would skyrocket just from having a good-looking guy on it! Please say you will!” “Hmm, sorry, but that’s not really my sort of thing. I like watching ghost story videos, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to appear in any myself.” Hayama’s plea was enthusiastic, but Takatsuki politely turned him down before turning his attention to the digital recorder Hayama had placed on the table. “Hayama, if you’re going to upload that audio to the internet, you should get permission from the ritual participants. Even though it would only be their voices and not their faces, you’ll want to be on the safe side.” “Oh, really? Well, I guess the internet is a scary place… Got it. I’ll send everyone an e-mail.” “Also, be sure to delete the last bit.” “Huh?” Hayama looked at Takatsuki in shock. “Huh?! ‘The last bit’—you mean the voice at the end? But why?! Delete a recording of an actual ghost?! What, do you think that uploading an actual ghost’s voice to the internet might mean I’ll be cursed? If it does, that would make a good topic for a video in and of itself, so I’d be pretty pleased.” “If it were the voice of a real ghost, I would happily make a copy of the audio and listen to it every day. But sadly, I’m not interested in fake ghosts, and I don’t know that it’s a good idea to pass that off as real and put it online for entertainment. It really would be an inappropriate topic for a video, something you planted like that. You should really reflect on your actions, Hayama.” Takatsuki’s reproach was delivered calmly but clearly, his smile never once faltering. Eyes wide in alarm, Hayama started frantically shaking his head. “What? What do you mean?! I didn’t plant anything!” His voice distorted wildly, like a poorly played chord on an electric guitar. “How would I even have done that to begin with?! It’s impossible—I was in the room with everyone else the whole time! Somebody definitely would have noticed if I did something weird!” “Yep, and that’s why you’ve been found out.” “Huh?” Hayama looked comical with his mouth opened wide like that. “It feels silly to even explain, really. You fiddled with your phone a few times during the ritual, didn’t you? You turned down the brightness and hid it under the table, so you probably thought no one would see, but no matter how soft the glow, it was still visible. It was also faintly reflected in your glasses.” Takatsuki gestured to Hayama’s rectangular frames. The professor spoke as if anyone should have noticed Hayama using his phone, but in truth, Naoya hadn’t at the time. With the orange light cast by the candles on top of the tables, it wouldn’t have been easy to spot another light source underneath them regardless. Takatsuki’s eyesight was simply better than other people’s. Glancing sideways, he saw that Nanba also looked astonished. From Hayama’s perspective, though, it must have been freaky to have one’s actions revealed so easily. He opened his mouth again, speaking in a very agitated tone. “B-but! It would have been obvious if I played audio from my own phone! Plus, it was really dark in the room at the end! Just like you said, Professor, someone would have noticed if I was messing around with my phone in the pitch black! The people sitting next to me would have seen or something! That’s why, I’m telling you, it wasn’t me! ” “Yep. That voice came from somewhere far from where you were sitting.” “See! See, didn’t I tell you?! So it wasn’t me! ” “It was outside the window, right?” Takatsuki asked casually. Hayama flinched. “I—I dunno, was it? I couldn’t tell where it came from.” “Really? I could. That’s why I checked as soon as the lights came on. When I did, I saw that around where the voice came from, there was a slightly open window.” “S-somebody must have forgotten to close it, right? It was probably just open from the start!” “No, it was closed. I know because I saw it at the start. After all, if you leave windows open in the summer, you get mosquitoes coming in, which is a whole ordeal, you know?” “You must be misremembering!” “As a matter of fact, I don’t misremember anything.” Takatsuki ran a finger smoothly over his own eyelid, smiling brightly. He remembered every single thing he saw as clearly as if he was looking at a photograph. And he never ever forgot what he saw. “You recall I opened that window and looked outside, yes? There was no one there. But—I could smell cigarettes.” “C-cigarettes?” “Yes. There were no butts left behind, though. Why would that location, so far from the designated smoking area, smell of cigarettes at that time? It wouldn’t, unless someone was outside smoking then. So, Hayama—the person who was out there was your friend, right?” “H-how would I know?” “You shouldn’t lie, Hayama,” Takatsuki said, turning his gaze to Naoya, whose hands had been pressed to his ears for some time. “You wanted something supernatural to happen at the end of the Night of One Hundred Horrors ritual no matter what, didn’t you? So you had a friend on standby outside as we were about to finish. You chose a suitable story from among the ones shared and used your phone to tell your friend. An audio-only illusion was your best choice for staging a phenomenon at the time. If you had, for instance, hung a will-o’-the-wisp outside the window or had someone dress up like a ghost and peer inside, someone might have rushed over to the window and exposed the trick immediately. But with just a voice, it wouldn’t be instantly obvious where it was coming from, not to mention the scare factor is quite high. I think that voice saying ‘big brother’ was likely nothing more than an isolated sound from a TV show or an anime or something. My auditory memory isn’t as reliable as my visual memory, but I believe I have heard that voice somewhere before.” At a complete loss for words, Hayama closed his mouth. Nanba, who had been listening with his chin rested in his palm, spoke up in a disgusted tone. “Hey, Hayama. You seriously did something like that?” “I…I mean… Ghost story channels are popular right now, you know? If you do a ghost story ritual seriously and something scary actually happens at the end, it would be good content, I thought…” “Was that the reason you set up the ritual in the first place?” asked Nanba. “…Yes.” Hayama nodded feebly. Having listened to Takatsuki’s lecture and been interested in the Night of One Hundred Horrors ritual, Hayama had apparently thought his chance had come. Actually carrying out such a ritual wouldn’t be so hard with a university population at hand, and he could get a genuine reaction from the participants if he didn’t tell them what he was planning. Just as Takatsuki had said, Hayama had asked the friend he was supposed to start the channel with to wait outside the assembly room window just before the ritual ended. He had sent instructions earlier over LINE on what audio to play in the event. Following Hayama’s orders, the friend had gotten ahold of the file from an online video, peeked inside the marginally open window, played the “big brother” clip just after the last story, and then took off quickly. The decision to use Ooishi’s story had come from nothing more than the fact that it was the easiest to work with. “You…are such an idiot! Don’t you think about other people’s feelings?! More importantly, Ooishi told us during the ritual that the story was true! How could you think it’s okay to use the actual story of his sister’s death as content for a video?!” “You’re right, I’m sorry! I just thought it would be entertaining! I’m really sorry!” Hayama had shrunk into himself as Nanba scolded him. The older boy clicked his tongue, looking away from his junior. He was pretty angry, perhaps on behalf of Ooishi’s feelings, or because of how genuinely frightened Narumi had been at the time. “Listen, Hayama. I touched on this a little in class, but why do you think it is that we tell stories about ghosts?” Hayama looked up when he heard the gentle tone of Takatsuki’s voice, contrasting as it was with Nanba’s harsh one. The professor picked up his mug, took a sip of his hot cocoa with marshmallows, and smiled. “Why do you think there are so many ghost stories in the first place? Naturally, there may be people who have really seen ghosts, though I’m sure some of those cases were living people being mistaken for ghosts. But I believe that ghost stories were originally meant to explain the thing we are most afraid of—death. Just like many religions were created for the same reason. There’s another reason, too. Ghost stories are a way of processing our feeling of longing for those who have passed, which is just as strong an emotion as our fear of death.” “Our longing…for the dead?” Hayama tilted his head slightly to the side. Takatsuki nodded. “That’s right. Death is final. Once a life is lost, it never comes back. But that’s such a miserable, lonely thing to accept. That’s why the idea that the dead can return to this world as ghosts was born.” Even if a life was lost, something would remain. The soul went on existing; not everything disappeared. That reasoning led to ghost stories being told in earnest. “Going back to the Night of One Hundred Horrors ritual, when the ritual first began in the Edo period, it was often held in winter. But over time, it became something we associate with summertime. Even now, we think of summer as the season for ghost stories, right? That’s when you see the elaborate haunted house productions and occult specials on TV. I believe the popular theory is that we enjoy horror in the summertime as a way to cool off, but there’s another possibility that’s quite fascinating.” Hayama stared blankly at Takatsuki, his expression a bit confused. He probably didn’t understand why the professor suddenly sounded like he was giving a lecture. Takatsuki, still grinning, cradled his mug in both hands and went on talking. “One of summer’s biggest events is the Feast of Lanterns, also known as Obon. Originally, it was a Buddhist event meant to save souls who had fallen into the realm of hungry spirits by holding memorial services, but in Japan, it became linked to our belief in ancestral spirits as it spread. They prepared mounts for the spirits, lit welcoming fires, and performed festival dances to pacify the returning souls. To Japanese people, summer is the season for remembering the dead. That’s why we tell ghost stories then. The living share stories in which those who have died appear, others listen, and everyone holds memories of those deceased souls in their hearts. That was probably just one of the ways the living would associate with the dead. In fact, there are a lot of ghost stories whose roots can be traced back to Buddhist tales.” But in the Edo period, ghost stories turned into a form of entertainment. Their ability to appease the dead became less important than their ability to entertain. “We who live in the modern age,” Takatsuki said, his eyes crinkling at the scent of cocoa wafting up from his mug, “have become rather distanced from religion and belief in ancestral spirits. Most ghost stories are consumed for enjoyment. The same holds true for the Night of One Hundred Horrors ritual. In the past, whoever endured all one hundred stories and whatever followed might even have been rewarded, but these days, people expect an ending far more dreadful. Everyone wants something more interesting, more horrifying, more shocking. However, since ghost stories are centered around the dead, you can still find some whose purpose is to honor lost lives.” The ghosts of the forgotten, or the ghosts of those who died with unfinished business—those types of ghosts could be scary. But if the ghost was someone you were close to, or someone you ought to mourn…the expected sentiment inspired by those spirits wouldn’t be scintillating horror. “Ghost stories told after major disasters, for example, are among that set. After the Tohoku earthquake, many people reported seeing ghosts of those who died as a result of the disaster. Regardless of their veracity, the ghosts those people spoke of were by no means the frightening kind that kill and curse people. Those stories were much more about grieving the lives that were lost. To give an easier example, you know how when they broadcast omnibus series about ghosts on TV, they often finish it with a ‘feel-good story’? That’s probably because it helps the viewer to end things on a nicer note, but it’s also a fact that a number of ‘feel-good stories’ about the dead exist in ghost stories. That’s because we mourn the deaths of people we’re close to, people we care about, and because we continue to want connection with them even after they’re gone. I think it’s best that we don’t forget those feelings.” Takatsuki set his mug down with a small thunk and looked at Hayama, who seemed nearly on the verge of tears. After looking first at Takatsuki and then at Nanba, he cast his gaze down again without a word. “Hayama,” the professor continued. “If you want to make a video channel, that’s fine. And it’s okay to upload the audio from the ritual, as long as you get all the participants’ permission. But as for the last section… Well, I don’t have to say it anymore, do I?” Head hung in dejection, Hayama nodded. In a faint voice, he said, “I’ll delete it.” That was the truth behind the voice they heard during the Night of One Hundred Horrors ritual, but— As he and Takatsuki left Ooishi’s apartment, Naoya looked at the other man with an odd feeling. Noticing his gaze, Takatsuki turned to look back at Naoya and stopped walking. “What is it? Is something wrong, Fukamachi?” “…No, not really.” Takatsuki never, not once, negated Ooishi’s story. He simply nodded gently, never mentioning what Hayama had done. He was so understanding that Ooishi even anxiously reminded him, “Um, please don’t tell people about this. I don’t want anyone to think I’m crazy or say I have a creepy complex about my sister.” “Professor, you’ve gotten a bit kinder.” “Well, that’s upsetting to hear. Haven’t I always been kind?” “I just mean, before, once you found out a supernatural phenomenon wasn’t real, you would expose it mercilessly. Although, I guess you did do that to Hayama this time.” “‘Mercilessly’… That’s a harsh way of putting it. Was I really so heartless?” Takatsuki smiled wryly. The old Takatsuki always opted to reveal fake mysteries to the light of day. He always proved they weren’t supernatural in nature. This change in him—it had probably occurred following the way he handled the mermaid incident with Riku. “…In Ooishi’s case, I think it’s okay as it is.” Takatsuki looked back at Ooishi’s apartment. They hadn’t walked far yet, so it was only a few houses away. “I know I’ve said this hundreds of times, but the supernatural is made up of ‘phenomena’ and ‘interpretations.’ In this instance, the phenomena were the voice heard at the end of the ritual and the flowers left at Ooishi’s door afterward. And Ooishi interpreted those things as being done by the spirit of his deceased sister.” “But that’s not what actually happened.” “No, at least not as far as the voice is concerned. It was staged. But Ooishi doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know, so he could only interpret the phenomena that occurred based on the scope of his understanding. After telling his sister’s story, he heard a voice say, ‘big brother,’ and he believed the answer to that riddle was his sister’s ghost. Then, when he saw the flowers outside his house, he once again connected them to her spirit. That fit with his internal logic about the phenomenon that had already taken place. Until he knows the truth, his sister’s spirit visiting him is a fact, at least to Ooishi.” “Even if it’s a fact to him, isn’t the outcome still that the truth is distorted?” “Yes, indeed it is. But I said, didn’t I? Ghost stories also serve as a way for us to process our longing for the dead.” Death came for everyone. Precious family members. Loved ones. No matter how cherished someone was, they would one day be lost forever to death. Sometimes, when that happened, those left behind couldn’t come to terms with it. They were overcome by the hopeless feeling of loss. And so humans dreamed up ghosts. So they could believe that the people who died were still out there somewhere. So they could ask the dead to forgive them once more. “I think Ooishi’s approach is an ideal way of associating with the dead. And it’s not like it’s hurting anyone. He doesn’t seem to want to tell anyone about it, so I doubt it’ll have an impact on anyone else. Even I wouldn’t dream of denying that he’s interacting with his sister in his heart.” As he listened to Takatsuki speak, Naoya recalled Ooishi’s expression from earlier. His face had been cheerful, amiable. There was nothing about him that inspired worry or seemed dangerous. Ooishi just appeared to be genuinely happy that his sister was visiting him. If there was an ideal outcome, that was certainly it. There was no need to ruin it. However—one question still remained. “But, Professor, who exactly is leaving the flowers at Ooishi’s apartment?” “Now that’s something I don’t know…” Looking puzzled, Takatsuki gently stroked his chin. Something similar had happened with the recent mermaid case. There was Riku, who was convinced that his mother had turned into a mermaid and was coming to see him in the dead of night. Fish scales had been left outside his room. There was a definite perpetrator in that incident. It was Sae. For Riku’s sake, she had sung for him, pretending to be his mother, and scattered the scales. But in this case, they didn’t know who was responsible. While questioning Hayama, they had made sure to ask whether he was the one leaving flowers at Ooishi’s residence, but he had denied it. His voice hadn’t warped. Then who was the one doing it, and why? At that moment— “—Fukamachi.” Suddenly, Takatsuki grabbed hold of Naoya’s arm. “Wh-what is it?” “There. Look, there! You see?!” Takatsuki was pointing ahead of them. Or rather, he was pointing forward but also downward. Naoya looked in that direction. At the edge of the road, along the wall of a house, there was— —a cat. A small brown tabby. It trotted toward them with its long tail raised. It wasn’t wearing a collar, but there was a notch in one of its ears, so it had probably been spayed or neutered. “…Oh, okay. So that’s one of the local strays Ooishi was talking about. A brown tabby, just like he said. Wow, it really is cute.” But Takatsuki tugged even harder on Naoya’s arm in response to his words. “No, look closer! Look at its mouth!” “Mouth?” Was there something wrong with the cat’s mouth? The cat was still a distance away, not to mention it was moving. Stooping down a little, Naoya squinted. Noticing his gaze, the cat froze. “—Oh.” Naoya’s eyes widened. The cat was holding a flower in its little mouth. The flower’s round, pink petals looked just like the ones on Ooishi’s pressed flowers. “Wha— …What?! No way!” It seemed it was a mistake for Naoya to speak louder. The startled animal hunkered down for a moment before crossing the street to avoid them, where it took off at full speed toward Ooishi’s apartment. Watching it go, Naoya felt somehow like he’d been let down. He looked up at Takatsuki. “P-Professor, that…” “Ah-ha-ha-ha! The mystery is solved!” Takatsuki burst into delighted laughter. “Huh, but why would a cat be carrying a flower in its mouth? Is that a thing cats do?” “It’s common for cats to carry things in their mouths, but I imagine flowers aren’t common. Ah, although, I once read an article online about a neighborhood stray in England that constantly brought flowers to a house’s back porch.” Wondering how there could really be such a similar case, Naoya turned back once more to look in the direction the cat had gone. The cat was already out of sight; it had probably disappeared into Ooishi’s garden. And then, perhaps, the cat would place the flower it was holding in front of the garden door and meow. Hearing it, Ooishi would pop his head out to the garden to feed the cat, only to find that another flower had arrived. “No, but…hasn’t that cat been getting fed at Ooishi’s place for a while now? Why did it just start bringing flowers these past few days?” “We can’t know that unless we ask the cat. I expect there was some kind of impetus, though. Ooh, maybe that cat is his sister’s reincarnation, and she only recently regained her memories of her past life!” Eyes sparkling again, Takatsuki started talking more nonsense. Would Ooishi ever know the truth? Would there come a day when he would see the cat with the flower in its mouth and think, So it was you? And if he did, would Ooishi be disappointed to learn it wasn’t his sister’s spirit? Or would he laugh to himself at his own misunderstanding, petting the cat’s head while it looked up at him curiously? “In any case, that’s not a bad way to wrap things up. Ah, I knew the Night of One Hundred Horrors ritual would be fun! Hayama’s little plan was hackneyed and in poor taste, but considering the event as a whole, I think it was really good! I learned what trends exist in the ghost stories that modern students know, and we even had fireworks! Maybe I should arrange for it to happen every year from now on.” “If you advertise it during your classes, you should be able to drum up plenty of people.” “That’s true. Will you participate next year, too, Fukamachi?” “…If I’m free, maybe.” “Yes! I’ll be expecting you, okay?” Smiling, Takatsuki started walking toward the station. He seemed serious about making the ritual a yearly event. Naoya followed after him. “—By the way, Professor.” “Hmm? What is it?” “What were you thinking, going to Inamuragasaki by yourself?” Naoya asked, his voice low. Takatsuki looked at him, startled. The day before, between Nanba being present and the Hayama issue to deal with, Naoya and Takatsuki never got a chance to talk about Sae. “How do you know about that…?” Takatsuki asked, his expression painfully awkward. “…Ah, I see. Miss Sae?” “Miss Sae told me to give you a message. She and Yuuko aren’t around there anymore, so you’re wasting your time looking for them. She said to stop going there if you’re just going to nearly faint.” “Yeesh,” Takatsuki said, his voice a peeved mutter. “Does that mean Miss Sae was watching me from somewhere? That’s annoying. I guess she has me beat.” But Naoya was more concerned with another question. “—Why did you go alone? You would have collapsed for sure if a kite had dive-bombed you! If you were going to go, you should have called me!” “B-but, you know, you seemed really busy in July.” “Sure, but what would you have done about it if you suddenly passed out in the middle of the street or something?! Please stop doing things like that!” Naoya didn’t hold back as he scolded Takatsuki, who snapped his mouth shut before— “…I’m sorry, ’kay?” Tilting his head with a remorseful look, he offered that apology. Naoya hated when Takatsuki did something that reminded him so strongly of his old dog, Victor, like that. And when Naoya had told him so many times that he couldn’t just apologize and expect everything to be forgiven. Takatsuki was an unbelievably intelligent thirty-five-year-old man, but he never learned his lesson when it came to these sorts of things. “I’ll make sure to call you next time, Fukamachi. Oh, but if Miss Sae isn’t there anymore…then I won’t be going again, so it’s fine. I’m sorry for worrying you.” “I’m going to tell Mr. Sasakura about this later.” “Ergh, I wish you wouldn’t… He’s definitely going to dis me. And call me an idiot.” “Your guardian should reprimand you properly as well.” “Aw, come on…” Takatsuki looked really pitiful. Naoya thought he deserved every possible rebuke he could get. For one thing, the professor was the type of person to invite people along to any and every occasion, so it was especially bad that he’d gone by himself under such circumstances. …Even more infuriating was that Naoya could more or less guess why Takatsuki had gone alone. It wasn’t a lie that Takatsuki hadn’t called him because Naoya was busy. Takatsuki didn’t lie in front of Naoya. But that probably wasn’t the sole reason. It was because of Sae—because she was probably the real deal. A real supernatural being. Though he had chosen Naoya as his companion to walk the border between their world and the next, every so often, Takatsuki would abruptly lose his nerve. Sometimes, he looked unsure of whether it was really okay to take Naoya along with him wherever he was headed. But it was too late now for Takatsuki to leave Naoya somewhere safe and step into the eye of the unknown by himself. It was against the rules, Naoya thought. Uncovering the truth together—that was the promise they had made. For a while after that, the two of them walked in silence toward the train station. Takatsuki was the first one to speak up. “—So what else did Miss Sae say?” “Apparently, she’s grown real interested in us. She said she’s taken quite the liking to both you and me.” “I’m flattered. Though, I would have liked to hear it directly from the source.” “Also, she said that my fortune from before hasn’t changed… The ‘trials ahead’ one.” “I see.” “She said one more thing, too—something strange.” “Strange?” “…She said, ‘You must not be mistaken in whose hand you take.’” Takatsuki stopped walking and looked at Naoya. Also stopping, Naoya looked back at him. Takatsuki’s intent gaze turned indigo right before Naoya’s eyes. When his irises were fully subsumed by the color of the deep, dark night sky, he looked nothing like the childish, dejected person Naoya had been walking alongside until moments ago. With the bottomless night sky in his gaze, Takatsuki’s handsome mouth turned up in a smile. “I wonder what in the world that must mean.” “…I don’t know.” Naoya shook his head. He forced himself to turn away from those eyes and down at his own outstretched hands instead. “I don’t know, but…I’m going to make sure I don’t forget those words.” Would he be forced someday to choose whose hand to take? If so, would Naoya be able to make the right choice? Looking down briefly, Takatsuki closed his eyes. His eyelids, hemmed with his long eyelashes, covered up the night sky. When he raised his head again, his eyes had returned to their usual brown. The professor sighed deeply, as if exhaling from the very bottom of his chest, and then gazed back at Naoya once more. “Fukamachi.” “Yes?” “Our trip… Are you excited?” As he spoke, Takatsuki’s eyes narrowed a little. Tooyama had told him not to go. Sae had basically said that trials awaited him if he went. Perhaps not going was the better option. Maybe this moment was his last chance to call it quits. And yet… “…Yeah, I am.” After a long moment, Naoya answered. Yes—if they were going to uncover the truth, it was going to be together. Next week, they were going to Nagano.
Chapter 13
56 min read