Chapter 19

The seemingly endless heat of summer eventually subsided, and September was drawing to a close. The long summer vacation was finally over, and students were returning to campus. There were some who were walking through the university gates for the first time in weeks, all of their faces glazed over with post-break sluggishness, having forgotten somewhere the patience and concentration needed to endure a ninety-minute lecture. Both their suntanned skin—worn like proof of a well-spent vacation—and their hair, which had changed color and shape over the break, were nothing more than the vestiges of that bygone period of hare that stood out strangely in the everyday setting of a classroom. The fact that they had made it to university at all was still an accomplishment, as there were some students who were extending their summer break of their own accord. The attendance rate for every lecture was far lower than usual. That held true no matter how popular the class. “Hmm, it’s like this every year at this time, but it is unfortunate.” Standing at the lectern, Takatsuki looked around the classroom with a microphone in one hand and a knowing smile. It was Thursday, fourth period. They were in Building 2, room 302. In Modern Folklore I, a specialized course in the History Department, it was usually hard to find an empty seat. Today, however, there were plenty of open spots, and a somewhat listless atmosphere hung over the students in attendance. “Everyone here seems a bit sleepy. I suppose you’re tired, having just come back from break? I thought it might be nice to cover something fast-paced at a time like this, so that’s the kind of topic I chose for today’s lecture. I’ll distribute the materials, so please pass them around.” Takatsuki handed a stack of papers to the student sitting closest to the front. As the materials circulated, little giggles gradually spread through the formerly lethargic air. When the papers finally reached him, Naoya almost burst into laughter as well. This is what he meant by “fast-paced”? he thought. When it came to the examples in the materials, well… “So today, I’d like to begin by talking about Jet Granny!” Takatsuki declared proudly, and the classroom erupted in earnest laughter. Smiling broadly, Takatsuki continued. “Jet Granny is an old woman who runs at remarkable speeds. She’s so fast that she overtakes cars driving on roads and highways at night, as though she’s equipped with a jet engine. There are many variations of the story about this old woman, as well as various monikers for her, such as Turbo Granny, Dash Granny, and Fast Granny. Old women are generally thought of as slow-moving, so this disparity of one running at the speed of a jet plane is interesting! Such women usually run on two legs, like normal people, but Turbo Granny sometimes runs on all fours and has a piece of paper with the word ‘turbo’ written on it on her back.” Though hardly what one would expect an associate professor to stand in front of a classroom and say, Takatsuki’s lectures pretty much always started off like this. The materials he had passed out contained a number of examples of the fast-running old ladies he had just introduced. The cited sources included a collection of ghost stories for children and a subcultural encyclopedia of urban legends. “The ghost stories about these women are often simple and short. Example one: ‘I was driving my car, when suddenly there was a knock on the window from outside. I looked and saw an old woman running alongside my car. My speed at the time was sixty-two miles per hour.’ Example two: ‘I was driving on the highway, when an old woman came running from behind at a tremendous speed and passed me. As she passed, our eyes locked, and I could see that she was grinning.’ In some cases, accidents are caused on account of the old woman, but most of the stories are just sightings or encounters. The reason the stories stand on their own, as simple tales of seeing or coming across, is probably because the appearance the women make is impactful.” Takatsuki spoke cheerfully in a soft, gentle voice. In his well-tailored three-piece suit and with a friendly smile on his model-like face, he looked just like he had before summer vacation. Watching him from a seat in the middle of the classroom, Naoya thought the professor looked well. He seemed to have made a safe recovery since the matter at the amusement park. “Now, are there any stories about supernatural beings who move at high speeds like this other than old women? Yes, indeed. There are cases where the person is an old man rather than a woman, as in Supersonic Grandpa. But nevertheless, in these types of stories, it’s overwhelmingly common for the person to be an old woman—one who runs at incredible speeds. That’s something I’d love to encounter sometime.” Takatsuki picked up some chalk as he spoke. Once again, there was scattered laughter around the room. Takatsuki often drew characters from urban legends on the blackboard, but everyone was already well aware of his lack of artistic talent. However, as Takatsuki put the chalk to the board, he stopped. “Well, since we’re talking about her, I’d like to draw Jet Granny, but… In truth, it’s not easy to do, because we don’t know what she looks like.” The students looked puzzled at his words. Inwardly, Naoya was confused, too. She was an old lady, so wouldn’t drawing a picture of an elderly woman be enough? Instead of drawing a picture, Takatsuki wrote “Jet Granny” on the board in his neat handwriting. Beside that, he wrote two bullet points: “old woman” and “runs incredibly fast.” Then he turned back to the class. “Those are the two defining features of Jet Granny. Or rather, those are her only two features. But then, exactly what sort of old woman is she? What hairstyle does she have? What does she wear?” As he posed those questions, the students glanced down at the materials they had been given. But in every single example, it simply said “old woman.” There was almost no description of her appearance. “In stories about the slit-mouthed woman, for example, in addition to stating that she wears a mask, there are often details about her physical features and clothing, such as ‘long hair,’ ‘wears a raincoat,’ ‘wears a red coat and white pants,’ and so on. For Toilet-Bound Hanako-san, it’s ‘has bobbed hair and a red skirt’ or ‘wears a red kimono.’ For Hikiko-san, it’s ‘eyes and mouth split at the corners, very tall, wears a tattered white kimono.’ Including a description of their physical appearances immediately makes them scarier and easier to imagine. So why is there no such description for Jet Granny? And why are there so many stories about old women running, when we don’t even know what they look like? The reason—is nothing more than the fact that they are ‘old women.’” Takatsuki tapped on the blackboard with his knuckles where he had written “old woman.” Though there had been a listlessness in the air at the start of class, at some point, every student in the room had begun paying attention. No one was dozing off or playing with their phones; they were all listening intently to Takatsuki. “In psychology, there’s a concept called ‘gerontophobia.’ It is the irrational fear or hatred of aging or of elderly people. Even when it’s not a phobia, people feel some degree of unease or disgust toward old age. Growing old means getting closer to that which humans fear the most: death. That’s why old women, which bring to mind aging and death, are popular ghost story motifs. And there’s another strong image that old women evoke. It’s a more concrete and folkloristic image than the vague word death. I’m talking about the beings we all heard and read about as children, onibaba and yamauba.” Saying this, Takatsuki drew an arrow from “old woman” on the board and wrote “yamauba.” “I’ve said many times before in lectures that even seemingly new modern urban legends can be traced back to old folktales and legends, yes? Yamauba lives in a house deep in the mountains, catching and eating anyone who passes by. And yamauba is also very fast. As in ‘The Onibaba of Adachigahara’ and ‘Sanmai no Ofuda,’ she chases the protagonist at incredible speeds. To us, living in the modern era, the yamauba that attacks travelers and temple monks is nothing more than an old legend. However, when she comes from deep in the mountains into areas of human habitation and finally down onto the highway, a new ghost story is born. Jet Granny is a continuation of the yamauba’s—that is, the running old woman’s—lineage. That’s why, even if all we have to go off of is ‘an extremely fast old woman,’ we can naturally picture what she looks like, because we already have the image of her predecessor, the yamauba, in our minds.” And indeed, Naoya realized that when he pictured Jet Granny in his head, she didn’t look like his own grandmother or any old woman he saw around town, but instead like a kimono-clad demon woman with disheveled white hair. She looked exactly like the yamauba he had seen illustrated in picture books and in folktales as a child. It seemed that in modern society, deep in the mountains was no longer yamauba’s active zone. Even so, Naoya felt like there was no need for her to come all the way to the highways to taunt drivers. “Incidentally, why do you think it is that yamauba run so quickly in the first place? There’s actually another lineage we can trace here.” Takatsuki turned back to the chalkboard. This time, he drew an arrow from “runs incredibly fast” and wrote “woman who pursues” at the end. “Jet Granny usually appears from behind and chases your vehicle. The yamauba in old tales also chases after story protagonists as they flee. There are many stories with this ‘woman who pursues’ motif. An old example comes from the ‘Yomi-no-kuni’ chapter of the Kojiki, when Izanagi is chased by Izanami and the Yomotsu-shikome.” Pursued by the demon hags of the underworld that Izanami let loose, Izanagi had thrown down a hairpiece and the teeth of a comb. Wild grapes and bamboo shoots sprouted from the objects he threw, and Izanagi had escaped while the Yomotsu-shikome feasted on them. “The story of Izanagi making his escape by throwing talismans has been passed down in various ways in subsequent stories. In the old folktale I mentioned, ‘Sanmai no Ofuda,’ a temple monk being chased by a yamauba throws paper talismans to create streams and fires in much the same way. There are no such incidents involving Jet Granny, but there is another famous urban legend that inherited this element. Does anyone know what it is? How about you there?” Takatsuki pointed to a female student sitting several rows from the front. Flustered at suddenly being singled out, the girl hesitated, and Takatsuki tapped lightly on his own mouth. “Your hint is: mask.” “…Oh. Um, the slit-mouthed woman?” “Correct.” Takatsuki smiled at her and wrote “slit-mouthed woman” on the board alongside “woman who pursues.” “The slit-mouthed woman also runs very fast, doesn’t she? But there are specific incantations and talismans you can use to get away from her, such as saying the word pomade three times or throwing hard candies at her. Another feature of the slit-mouthed woman is that she is ugly. In this, she echoes the image of Izanami, with her decaying body, and the demon hags of the underworld. In the case of Jet Granny, she is never directly described as ugly, but we can assume ugliness is included as a part of her ‘old woman’ distinction. Furthermore, although it comes from a different lineage from the tale of Izanagi’s escape, there is a perfect example of the ‘woman who pursues’ trope in the famous story of Anchin and Kiyohime from the Dōjōji legend. A young woman falls in love with a traveling monk, and as she chases after him, she transforms into a giant snake, eventually burning him to death by heating up the temple bell he has taken refuge in. This is another widely spread story that has spawned many variations, but the face of the woman-turned-serpent is usually depicted as ogre- or dragon-like. These women who chase after their targets with tremendous speed are always ugly and terrifying… So then why is this the case? What on earth is the source of this fear?” Putting down the chalk, Takatsuki brushed the powder from his fingertips. He turned back to the students. “As you might expect, this fear originated from the male perspective. Japan used to be a patriarchal society, much more male dominated than it is today. Moreover, in Buddhist thought, women were considered impure. Women were weaker beings of lower status than men. Or rather, I should say that they were expected to be weaker than men. Beings rejected from the core of society in this way are easily transformed into monsters, because those in power are constantly in fear that the societal value system will be reversed. In other words—they fear that the oppressed will rise up against their oppressors.” The students, both male and female, listened to him with solemn expressions. Takatsuki looked around at them slowly as he went on. “The men of the past, when confronted by a being they expected to show deference to them instead of opposing them and displaying extreme obsession and selfishness, probably shuddered with fear at what they saw as unthinkable. Then they likened said being to a monster. The conferment of ‘ugly’ as an attribute was also an expression of their contempt and fear. Their feelings gave rise to numerous ghost stories, and those stories permeated people’s way of thinking. As a result, even in today’s world where male-dominated thought is fading, the fear of such female supernatural phenomena continues to be passed down as a story format and an archetype.” Just then, for only a moment, Naoya thought he saw Takatsuki frown. Curious, he followed the professor’s gaze to the back of the classroom. The university’s lectures had unreserved seating. In most courses, the seats filled up from the middle to the back, but Takatsuki’s always filled up from the front, perhaps because of his good looks. With today’s low attendance, Naoya had thought the back few rows were empty. But now that he looked, he saw that there was a man in a suit sitting in the corner of the very back row. His face was unfamiliar. He seemed relatively young, like he was perhaps a graduate student or faculty member from another university who was dropping in on the class. He didn’t really give off the vibes of a researcher, though. Naoya continued to look over his shoulder, wondering who the man could be, when Takatsuki gently cleared his throat. Hastily turning back around, he locked eyes with Takatsuki, who was continuing with his lecture as though nothing had happened, for just a moment. Naoya shrank down into his seat, feeling like he’d been scolded with a look. Takatsuki was, as always, very observant. “Hey, Fukamachi! Long time no see!” After class, as Naoya was packing up his things, a voice called out to him from behind. He turned around to see Youichi Nanba, another student in the History Department, standing there. “It’s been a while… Wait a minute. Don’t you take the same class as me during second period, too?” “I overslept. It was past two o’clock when I woke up.” “Two o’clock…?” “Come on, you can’t expect my internal clock to reset to pre-summer vacation time that quickly.” “Make it reset. I mean, what were you even doing over summer break?” “You should be praising me for doing my best to make it to Professor Takatsuki’s class, at least,” Nanba said, puffing out his chest. Offering Nanba some half-hearted praise, Naoya looked back to see that the man in the suit was already gone. Takatsuki also seemed to have left the classroom in a hurry. Picking up his bag, Naoya left the room with Nanba. “As usual, Professor Takatsuki’s lectures are so interesting!” Nanba said, stretching both arms over his head. “I’m seriously thinking of majoring in folklore, starting next year. I want to write my thesis on Jet Granny!” His arms and his face were both much more tanned than they had been before summer break. Looking at his darkened complexion, which spoke to just how much he had enjoyed his vacation, Naoya asked, “Nanba, you’re really tan. Did you go on a trip?” “Ah, this is from my club’s training camp. We went to the beach, so I got seriously cooked.” “…Wait, remind me what club you’re in again?” “Tennis.” “Why would a tennis club go to the beach for training camp?” “We played tennis, too. I mean, technically. Our club is pretty laid-back. We do actually practice and play friendly matches with other clubs, but it’s not like we train hard and try to enter tournaments or whatever. Our motto is ‘Let’s enjoy our youth!’” Nanba grinned. That kind of saying certainly did seem to suit him. “You’re not that tanned, Fukamachi. Didn’t you say you were going on a trip? You went with Professor Takatsuki on some fieldwork, right?” “Oh yeah, I did. But we went to the mountains, not the sea.” “Huh. So then how did it go? The fieldwork.” “…Well. A lot happened. But I managed to make it back.” “What’s that mean? Did you go somewhere super deep in the mountains? Like to some scary haunted ruins?” “There were no ruins… But I guess you could say there were ghosts.” “Wait, really?! What? Come on, spill— Ah, sorry.” Nanba took out his phone. It looked like he had a LINE message. “Oh crap, I gotta go. Tell me about your trip sometime soon! See ya!” Nanba ran off in a hurry. He was already at the end of the corridor when he turned around and called, “Sorry!” one more time in a loud voice, causing other students to look around in surprise. Naoya saw him off with a grin. Nanba probably hadn’t called out to him originally for any particular reason, so Naoya didn’t think there was any reason for him to apologize so much. Or more to the point, Nanba was the only person who would call out to Naoya without a reason. Among the other students, Naoya was simply the “plain-looking glasses guy.” Naoya was careful not to get on anyone’s bad side, and he responded normally if someone spoke to him, but he always endeavored to be as inconspicuous as possible, so that the people around him would have no more awareness of him than, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure there’s a quiet kid who wears glasses like that.” The university was a big place with a lot of people in it, so it was easy to go unknown if one wanted to. Naoya was pretty sure that there were very few people, even in his same year and department, who remembered his name. That was the sort of life Naoya had chosen for himself long ago. He didn’t mind it, and he thought it was a bit late to change things now. Originally, his connection to Nanba had been that they were in the same language class their first year. Nanba was naturally the sort of guy to talk to anyone, but ever since a certain incident had happened at the end of the previous year, it felt like they had gotten closer than before. Naoya had even turned to Nanba for help before—and frankly, he was aware that he was breaking the rules. Don’t get too close to anyone. Keep to the lines drawn around himself and don’t reach beyond them. Those were the rules for living with the power of his ears. And yet… Naoya remembered the bright golden sparks that had flashed in his mind in the impenetrable darkness, and he turned his gaze reflexively in the direction Nanba had gone. Nanba had been there, too—in the memories Naoya had recalled at Yomotsu Hirasaka. “Aw, come on. This is what people are supposed to do for each other.” Surely, to Nanba, that moment hadn’t been a big deal at all. But to Naoya…it had truly made him happy. Readjusting his bag on his shoulder and continuing down the hall by himself, Naoya let out a small sigh. “Tell me about your trip sometime soon,” Nanba had said. Naturally, Naoya couldn’t tell him the whole story. Even if he did, there was no way Nanba would believe it, and telling him the entire thing would mean having to tell him about his ears as well. But—someday… Just for a moment, Naoya thought, by some chance—over drinks or something, in a half-joking way, for instance—if he could tell Nanba all about it…that would be fine. Not too long after that, Takatsuki sent him a message. “I want to talk to you about work a bit. If you’re still at the college, can you come to my office?” Naoya had just been about to go home after wrapping up some work in the library. He sent back a “Be right there” and headed for the faculty building. He knocked on the door of room 304 on the third floor. “Come in,” a soft, clear voice called, and Naoya opened the door. Takatsuki was standing in front of a small table with a kettle and a coffee maker on it. He turned with a smile, holding out Naoya’s mug in one hand. “Ah, sorry for the sudden summons. But I’m glad you were still here.” “…Did you have a client?” Naoya asked, seeing the Great Buddha cup sitting on the corner of the small table, looking as though it had been used. That was the mug visitors used when they came to the office. The smell of coffee hung thickly in the air. Most of the requests Takatsuki received came by e-mail through his website, Neighborhood Stories. But this time, unexpectedly, it seemed someone had come to talk to him in person. “Yeah, he just left. He said he wants me to deal with things as quickly as possible, so I thought I would tell you about it right away. Oh—the graduate students brought me gifts from their summer vacations again, so feel free to eat whatever you’d like. There are unsweetened rice crackers.” Takatsuki waved at Naoya to sit down as he spoke. The pile of regional snacks stacked up on the large table was a regular feature of the office after summer break. Naoya gratefully accepted a rice cracker. Takatsuki put a dog-patterned mug of coffee in front of Naoya and sat down beside him with a blue mug of marshmallow cocoa in one hand. “So actually, this request…it came from a relative of mine.” “A relative?” “Yep. I think you saw his face earlier. Remember, there was someone who came into the classroom during the middle of the lecture?” “Oh, him.” The man in the suit. Leaning back in his folding chair, Takatsuki took a sip of cocoa. “He’s my cousin, actually. He’s five years younger than me.” “Huh?” “There’s no need to be so surprised.” Takatsuki smirked. As Naoya apologized, he thought back to the man in the suit. He had been a little far away, and Naoya didn’t remember his face very clearly, but he didn’t think the man had looked very much like Takatsuki. And given Takatsuki’s family situation, it was a tad surprising that any relative of his would come to him directly with a request. “I mean, I was surprised, too,” Takatsuki said, sardonic expression still in place. “After all, I don’t usually have any contact with my family or relatives. The last time I saw my cousin was before I went to England. It’s been over twenty years. We weren’t particularly close, so it really caught me off guard that he suddenly dropped in.” “If that’s the case, what kind of request did he bring to you?” “About that…” Taking another sip of cocoa, Takatsuki frowned. “Fukamachi, do you know what a human-faced tumor is?” “A human-faced tumor…? Um, isn’t it a growth in the shape of a human face?” “Yeah. Well, it seems that’s what’s happened.” “What?! To your cousin?” “No, to his fiancée… Yuuto isn’t the kind of guy who would go out of his way to come tell me something like that as a joke. He’s always been a very serious kid.” Takatsuki began to explain. Yuuto Takatsuki—that was his cousin’s name. Takatsuki’s mother had two younger brothers. The older of the two brothers was Wataru. The younger was Hiroya. Yuuto was Hiroya’s only son. “Uncle Hiroya is the president of a group enterprise that my father runs. Yuuto also works there. It seems a marriage proposal was raised recently. The other party is the daughter of an executive at one of their client companies, a woman named Mikako Takamura. She’s twenty-six.” “Is that what they call a ‘political marriage’?” “Yes, well, I suppose so. So the two of them got engaged shortly after their arranged meeting. They’re still in the dating phase, meeting up when possible and getting to know each other.” “What, they’re getting to know each other after getting engaged?” “It was already decided between their families that they’re getting married. That’s how political marriages work. I mean, they’ve at least been acquainted with each other since they were little because of their parents’ connection. But they only really started talking after getting engaged, and it’s still quite early days, apparently. They were thinking they’d just get to know each other gradually from now on—but then something strange happened.” It had happened several days ago. Yuuto had gone to Mikako’s apartment, where she lived alone, and for a moment when she opened the door to greet him, he had thought she was someone else. “Yuuto had been away on business for a while, so they hadn’t seen each other in a month. Miss Mikako became very thin in that time. She looked pale, too, and Yuuto was worried she had gotten seriously ill or something like that.” Apparently, Mikako had tried at first to brush off his concern with, “I’m fine,” and “I just caught a little cold.” However, seeing that she was also less talkative than usual and in low spirits, Yuuto told her, “If something’s wrong, I want you to tell me about it.” When he did, Mikako burst into tears. As she cried, she opened the front of her blouse and showed Yuuto her right shoulder. Stuck there, on the rounded edge of her shoulder, was some blood-stained gauze. The moment Mikako pulled the gauze away, Yuuto gasped. Sobbing, Mikako had turned her face away from her right shoulder and said, “Look. It looks just like a human face, doesn’t it?” The skin near the top of her right arm was uneven, swollen, and dark red. Once it was pointed out, there was indeed a resemblance between a human face and the irregular bumps of the growth. A vertical bulge down the middle formed the nose, two sagging bumps on either side were like closed eyelids, and beneath that, the gaping slash of split skin looked exactly like a mouth spitting blood. When Yuuto asked why this was happening, Mikako had cried and said she didn’t know. She told him her shoulder had felt itchy for a few days before the skin started swelling rapidly, and then the night before, it had suddenly split open. Mikako had shaken her head when Yuuto asked if she had been to a doctor. She hadn’t wanted anyone to see her arm, it was so repulsive, she said. They couldn’t simply ignore a wound that was bleeding, however. Yuuto had wanted to bring Mikako to a doctor, even if he had to drag her there. Mikako had resisted. She had shaken her head back and forth, crying, saying she wouldn’t go, no matter what. “Why is Miss Mikako so reluctant to go to a doctor?” Naoya asked, finding the situation odd. “She clearly has a skin abnormality. And it’s bleeding, so it must hurt.” Takatsuki’s eyes narrowed a little. “That’s because, apparently, Mikako had previously read a book about human-faced tumors. She’s convinced that’s what the growth on her shoulder is. It seems she’s adamant that she doesn’t want a doctor or even her parents to know she has something like that on her body.” “But then… To consult you… No matter how much of an expert you are in folklore…” “As a matter of fact, it was Miss Mikako who wanted to consult me.” “Huh?” “She asked Yuuto to contact me, apparently.” Takatsuki dropped his gaze to the mug he was holding in both hands. Slowly, the corners of his lips turned upward. It wasn’t his usual bright smile, though. Instead, a slightly warped grin formed on his mouth, and Takatsuki said in a dry voice, “Mikako told Yuuto, ‘I’m sure Tengu-sama will do something about this.’” “What…?” Naoya’s eyes widened at those words. —“Tengu-sama.” It was a name Takatsuki used to be called. A fantasy that his mother had forced upon him when he returned from being spirited away. A month’s disappearance and no recollection of that time. Strange scars on his back and eyes that sometimes changed color. An abnormally improved memory and an excessive fear of birds. Takatsuki’s mother had desperately wanted to know what had happened to her beloved son to cause such things, but neither the police nor the doctors had been able to give her a clear answer. With no leads whatsoever, the case went unsolved. Not even the cause of Takatsuki’s eyes changing color was known. And so his mother had escaped. She had escaped into the fantasy that her son had been kidnapped by tengu. In her mind, Takatsuki had been turned into a tengu before having his wings cut off and being returned to this world. That was how she interpreted the scars on his back. And to further strengthen her own fantasy, his mother tried to spread it to the people around her. As the daughter of the president of a large company, she had connections to the wives of the executives at the companies her father managed and to the wives of their clients. She introduced Takatsuki to those women as the “Tengu’s Child” and put his special abilities on display. To those women, the beautiful young boy who could easily pinpoint the location of lost items and solve any problem must have seemed as if he had clairvoyance. Before long, they were devoted to Takatsuki, hailing him as “Tengu-sama.” “Miss Mikako came several times to the tea parties my mother used to host, accompanied by her own mother… I remember her, too. I think she was still in kindergarten then, but she was always dressed up like a doll and holding a teddy bear, listening quietly to the adults’ conversations with a vacant look on her face. She only came to those tea parties a few times, but maybe those occasions left a strange impression on me. It’s been more than twenty years, and I still remember.” Takatsuki sighed softly. To a small girl, Takatsuki may truly have appeared to be a deity—the Tengu-sama who could do anything and helped those in need. Naoya looked at Takatsuki’s profile. “Professor… Did you accept the request?” “Yeah. I did,” Takatsuki said, smiling brightly and turning to Naoya. “If it works for you, I’d like to go to Miss Mikako’s place tomorrow or the day after—” “—You should turn it down.” Takatsuki fell momentarily silent at Naoya’s interruption. Then he smiled awkwardly. “Why? I already said I would take it, so it’s too late to turn it down.” “But I mean…” Takatsuki’s memories of being the Tengu’s Child were likely a big open wound he shouldn’t touch. On a previous trip to Yamanashi, a woman who used to attend those tea parties had called him Tengu-sama, and that alone was enough to give him nightmares. It was bound to be a burden for Takatsuki to face someone who not only referred to him as Tengu-sama, but who was also counting on his “divine” abilities. “…You’re such a worrier, Fukamachi.” Takatsuki’s face crinkled up into a smile. He leaned forward, one elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand, and looked at Naoya through narrowed eyes. “KenKen’s overprotectiveness has totally rubbed off on you. Good grief, I’m surrounded by worrywarts.” “That’s because you’re always on the verge of some kind of trouble.” “I’m telling you, I’m fine… See? I’m not lying, am I?” Takatsuki pointed at his own face. It was true that his voice hadn’t distorted. It was as soft and clear as ever. But this was Takatsuki. There was a good chance he was neatly dodging the truth. And besides, even if he himself thought he was fine, that didn’t mean he was right. Then, after watching Naoya for a little while, Takatsuki made a big show of letting out a sigh and suddenly said, “Hmmm, I see. Since my part-timer isn’t feeling too keen, I guess I’ll just go deal with this request by myself.” “Huh? What are you talking about, Professor?” “Well, you see, Yuuto will come to pick me up anyway, so I won’t need help navigating. And I’m sure I won’t lose my sense of reason and get carried away this time.” “H-hold on a minute—!” Naoya glared at Takatsuki in a little bit of a panic, wondering how they had gotten here. It was obviously way worse to let Takatsuki go on this job alone. But Takatsuki shook his head, looking disappointed, and said, “I’d really like you to come with me, Fukamachi, but if you really don’t want to, then I guess there’s nothing I can do. Well then, sorry for calling you here today, but this time—” “—Augh, fine, I get it!” Naoya yelled, resigned. “I’m sorry for interfering, since I am just a part-timer, after all! I’ll go, too, so please let me accompany you!” Takatsuki grinned triumphantly at him. The man really was so childish. I should tell Sasakura about this, Naoya thought. The following evening, Yuuto Takatsuki came to pick them up in front of the university gates. When he saw Naoya, his brow furrowed suspiciously. Not even getting out of the driver’s seat, Yuuto merely rolled down his window and looked at them questioningly. Takatsuki smiled and introduced Naoya. “Yuuto, this is Fukamachi. He’s a student who assists me. He’ll be coming along today.” “…I intended for this consultation to be private,” Yuuto mumbled. Takatsuki continued to smile. “I accepted your request about human-faced tumors purely as a folklore specialist. You don’t really believe in the whole ‘power of the Tengu-sama,’ do you?” “…” Frowning, Yuuto silently jutted his chin toward the back seat of the car. He seemed to be telling them to get in. Once Takatsuki and Naoya had climbed into the back seat, Yuuto started driving. From his seat diagonally behind Yuuto, Naoya stealthily examined the man. Even looked at up close like this, he really didn’t resemble Takatsuki at all. That fact might have been made even more evident because Wataru, their uncle, looked so much like the professor. Yuuto had stiff, jet-black hair, smooth eyelids, and somewhat thinnish facial features. Even though they were both wearing suits, Yuuto really just looked like an office worker when compared to Takatsuki, who could have been a model… Although Takatsuki and Wataru were probably the ones who were outside the norm. To make matters worse, there was a clear aura of prickliness surrounding Yuuto. Even though he had been the one to come ask for help, he didn’t seem inclined to speak to Takatsuki in the car. On the contrary, Yuuto stared straight ahead, as if to discourage them from speaking to him. He seemed, quite frankly, unpleasant. Despite this, Takatsuki appeared totally unbothered and began to reminisce to Naoya with a smile on his face. “Fukamachi, Yuuto may be like this now, but when he was really little, he was pretty cute, you know. He would call me Aki and follow me around.” “…Is that so?” In other words, Takatsuki was to Yuuto what Kazu was to Naoya. But at least from looking at the Yuuto of the present, it was really hard to imagine him following the professor around and calling him Aki. Even so, Takatsuki smiled nostalgically and went on. “We used to play together at family gatherings. Yuuto was the only cousin I had, so I adored him. This was a long time ago, mind you.” “—It’s ancient history,” Yuuto said in a low voice, still facing forward. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring up stories from when I was in kindergarten now. I’m thirty years old already.” “Unfortunately, I don’t have many memories of Yuuto after that time. At some point, he started to avoid me.” Takatsuki gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. There was no malice in his voice. Yuuto didn’t say anything more but simply turned the wheel a little roughly as he rounded a corner. Watching him, Naoya thought, Oh, he probably never wanted to come to Takatsuki at all. He had had no choice but to do so because his fiancée had begged him. Takatsuki himself had said that he and Yuuto weren’t particularly close, that it had been over twenty years since they last met… That alone was proof of how estranged they were. Perhaps Takatsuki shouldn’t have accepted this request after all, Naoya thought, glancing over at the professor. He didn’t have a very good impression of Takatsuki’s family and relatives. Given what Naoya had heard from Sasakura, Wataru, and Takatsuki himself, it didn’t seem like a single member of his family had been kind to Takatsuki since the kamikakushi incident. Beside him, Takatsuki was gazing out the window at the passing scenery. His usual smile was on his face, but Naoya had long since learned not to trust that smile. Takatsuki was constantly standing on the boundary line. Recently, Naoya had begun to feel that more strongly than before. The boundary between reality and another world, between the ordinary and the extraordinary. And—the boundary between a kind world illuminated by bright light and a dark world so cold, it was almost freezing. Sasakura, Wataru, and Ruiko were in the brighter world. As long as Takatsuki was facing that side, he could keep smiling and living happily. On the other side, however, the darkness surrounding Takatsuki’s past swirled around in an ill-boding maelstrom, stretching out cold, grasping fingers to drag the professor into its midst. Next to Naoya, Takatsuki was still looking out the window. Night was spreading out before his gaze. Rows of streetlamps and car headlights shone through the window onto Takatsuki’s pale cheeks. His eyes seemed to flash blue, and Naoya startled. “…What’s wrong, Fukamachi?” Takatsuki looked over at him, quizzical, and his eyes were the same kind dark brown as usual. Hastily shaking his head, Naoya replied that it was nothing. Eventually, the car stopped in front of a small white apartment building. They followed Yuuto to Mikako’s apartment where, as though she had been waiting for them, the door opened immediately to reveal a long-haired woman. She was a beautiful woman with Japanese features and large, striking almond-shaped eyes. Her hair was down, untied, and deep black. It gave her a somewhat serious appearance but also accentuated the paleness of her skin, making her look just like a doll. Just as Yuuto had told them, however, it was obvious at a glance how thin she was. Her sunken cheeks were prominent enough to make her bone structure stand out. A large diamond ring sat sparkling on the ring finger of her left hand. “Tengu-sama…!” The moment she saw Takatsuki’s face, Mikako covered her mouth with both hands, overcome with emotion. Blood rushed to her cheeks, and her dark eyes shone with heat. Seeing this, Yuuto frowned slightly. Takatsuki smiled amiably. “Good evening. It’s been quite some time, Miss Mikako Takamura.” Both hands still over her mouth, Mikako’s shoulders immediately began trembling, and her eyes opened wide. “Tengu-sama… You…remember me…?” “Of course. I met you a few times at my mother’s tea parties, although we were children at the time. Please don’t call me that, however. My name is Akira Takatsuki. I teach at a university now.” “…Ah, I, I’m sorry. How rude of me!” Mikako suddenly straightened up, as if coming to her senses. She put her hands to her cheeks, like she was embarrassed at herself for getting excited, and bowed her head vigorously. Her hair slipped off her right shoulder, and Naoya couldn’t help but glance at it. She was wearing a thin red cardigan over her white blouse, so it was impossible to tell from the outside whether there was anything particularly odd about her shoulder. According to Yuuto, though, that’s where the human-faced tumor was. “Um, you’re an associate professor at Seiwa University, right? Yuuto told me. Thank you for making time to see me today, Professor Takatsuki. Please come in.” She welcomed Takatsuki inside, and Yuuto and Naoya followed him. The one-bedroom apartment was neatly organized. The furniture and carpet were a soft, calming color, and the casually placed items around the room were all elegant, but for the worn-out, old teddy bear sitting on the sofa. It was charming, somehow. In one corner of the living room sat a bookshelf and a desk that seemed to be for working at, with books on English conversation and interpretation placed on them. “I’ll make some tea, so please have a seat,” Mikako said, offering the sofa to Takatsuki and Naoya. She seemed to remember the bear was there immediately after and hurried over to the sofa to remove the stuffed animal with surprising carelessness. Takatsuki picked up the bear, which had been tossed to the floor. He stared at its rather well-loved muzzle, and Naoya cocked his head to the side. “What’s wrong, Professor?” “Oh, no, it’s nothing,” Takatsuki replied, carefully setting the bear back down on the carpet, before sitting on the sofa. Naoya took the seat beside him. “Do you work as an interpreter, Miss Mikako?” Takatsuki asked, and Mikako gave him a stiff smile from the kitchen where she was preparing the tea. “I used to work at a company, but I studied abroad last year, and now I’m studying to become an interpreter… It seems I’ll be marrying Yuuto before that, however.” “Mikako is a really hard worker. I’d like to give her my support even after we get married.” Yuuto was in the kitchen helping Mikako when he chimed in. “She told me about her time studying abroad with a lot of enthusiasm at the matchmaking session, too. I also studied abroad when I was in college, so we had a lot to talk about. Her younger sister is studying abroad now instead. They’re both very studious. I think it’s great.” As he smiled at Mikako, Yuuto’s face was gentle and warm. Naoya had thought he was a bit of a nasty person in the car, but apparently, he was just cold toward Takatsuki. As the couch only sat two people, Yuuto and Mikako sat down on the carpet, facing each other, with a low table between them. When tea was served, the scent of Earl Grey wafted into the air. “Now, then,” Takatsuki said. “Let’s get to the matter at hand. Miss Mikako—if you don’t mind, I’d like to see the human-faced tumor that you have.” Mikako looked at Yuuto. He nodded, and Mikako took off her cardigan. The blouse underneath was sleeveless. There, on her right shoulder—or perhaps more accurately, in the area of the root of her upper arm—was indeed a human face. No—that wasn’t right. The skin in that area was raised like a keloid. It was discolored, a dark shade of red, and swollen in irregular lumps, merely giving it the appearance of a human face. The problem was, once Naoya was aware of the likeness, it was hard to see it in any other way. The long, narrow bump in the center looked like a nose, the sagging wrinkles on either side of that made for two closed eyelids, and the straight cut running beneath it was like a pursed mouth. The entire thing was approximately three inches in size. It was truly something that could only be called a human-faced tumor. “—Excuse me. Can I take a closer look?” Takatsuki asked, already standing up from the couch to kneel beside Mikako. Takatsuki didn’t seem to notice the startled Yuuto, who had for a moment looked like he was about to object. Grabbing Mikako’s arm and pulling it toward himself, Takatsuki leaned his face in to peer at the tumor. Then he began touching it with his fingers. Unheeding of Mikako’s self-conscious squirming, he pressed the tumor’s various features—the eyelids, nose, cheeks—in turn, just like a doctor palpating something. “Does this hurt?” he asked. Mikako, her expression bewildered, said it didn’t. Lastly, Takatsuki touched the wound that looked like a mouth, and it was only then that Mikako’s face contorted. “That hurts,” she said in a small voice. “I see. Thank you very much.” Takatsuki left Mikako’s side and returned to the sofa. Yuuto turned to Takatsuki while helping Mikako put her cardigan back on. “So then, what exactly is this? Is it really, you know, a human-faced tumor?” “—First, I’d like to hear from Miss Mikako about it for a bit. The professor smiled and looked at Mikako. “It seems you already have some knowledge of human-faced tumors, yes? Which books did you read?” “U-um… In college, I studied early modern literature,” Mikako replied, lowering her gaze. “I read Otogibōko and Ehon Hyaku Monogatari…” At that, Takatsuki leaned forward, his face brightening. “I see, so you’ve read those two! There are indeed stories about human-faced tumors in both. And they’re both very interesting, aren’t they?” “…What books are those?” Yuuto asked, his expression saying he wasn’t following. Takatsuki smiled. “They’re both collections of ghost stories that were published in the Edo period. There’s a story in Otogibōko that is actually called ‘Human-Faced Tumor,’ which tells of a farmer from Ogura in Yamashiro Province who developed a sore in the shape of a human face on his left thigh. The text says the sore is ‘alike to a human face in form, with eyes and a mouth, but no nose or ears.’ That makes it a bit different from Miss Mikako’s, which seems to have a nose.” Takatsuki looked to Mikako with a smile, as if for confirmation. Mikako tilted her head slightly with a baffled face. She probably didn’t understand why the professor had suddenly started talking in such a delighted tone. But Takatsuki was in his element like this. He went on, speaking just as he did during lectures. “This farmer had been sick for six months before the human-faced tumor appeared. He suffered from chills, fever, and pain all over his body. Those symptoms stopped once the tumor grew, but the tumor hurt. If he fed it something, the pain stopped, but if he didn’t feed it, the pain worsened. By the way, Miss Mikako, did you experience any similar illness?” “…No, not really.” “I see.” Takatsuki smiled again. Despite stating that he wasn’t going to get carried away this time, he seemed to be quite enjoying himself. Naoya wondered for a moment whether to stop him. He appeared to be calmer than he was in his usual large dog mode, so Naoya figured it was probably fine to leave him be for a while longer. “In the Ehon Hyaku Monogatari, the story about a human-faced tumor is titled ‘Two-Mouthed Woman.’ Although the term ‘human-faced boil’ is used rather than ‘human-faced tumor.’ The two-mouthed woman is a monster with an additional mouth on the back of her head, but in this book, the extra mouth is said to be a human-faced boil and is treated as a malady. As examples, it cites a woman who starved her stepchild to death and grew a mouth on the back of her head, as well as one who develops a human-faced boil after tripping during an argument with her father, in which the boil is considered a consequence of the woman’s malicious thought. The text says that human-faced boils are a disease seen in callous, wicked, selfish, shameless people… Is this perhaps why you didn’t want your parents or a doctor to know, Miss Mikako?” At Takatsuki’s question, Mikako drew her shoulders in and nodded. Yuuto put a hand on her shoulder and glared angrily at Takatsuki. “Hold on, that’s the kind of woman you think she is? You think that’s why something like this is happening? There’s no way that’s true!” “Of course, the idea that human-faced tumors are a disease that occur as recompense for one’s wrongdoings is an old way of thought. We modern people must interpret them differently.” Takatsuki spoke in a calm tone, returning Yuuto’s gaze head-on. Cowed, Yuuto fell silent. Shrugging his shoulders slightly, Takatsuki continued. “Although a realistic interpretation of human-faced tumors was already given in the Edo period. In Fude no Susabi, a collection of essays written by Kan Chazan, an article about human-faced tumors written by court physician Katsuragawa Hoken is cited. It clearly states that the wounds, depressions, and dents of the affected area merely resemble mouths and eyelids and noses. It also says that any apparent breathing is the result of the area twitching, and that the tumor is called a human face only because of its shape. People are naturally susceptible to seeing things as human faces. For example, we recognize three circles arranged in an inverted triangle as a human face. Or we may associate two entirely different things with each other simply because their visual impression is similar, and those associations may become fixed in our brains. This is the kind of psychological phenomenon that causes us to see a human face in a stain on the ceiling or in a power outlet, or a rabbit on the moon. It’s just an optical illusion. Unfortunately, most pictures of ghosts can be explained this way.” Naoya had learned about this topic in one of the previous year’s lectures. As he recalled, it had been a lecture on dogs and fish with human faces. The three circles was an example of the simulacra phenomenon, and the ceiling stain looking like a human face was due to the pareidolia effect. “Some theories posit that human-faced tumors may have been elephantiasis. It’s a disease caused by parasitic filariasis that was rampant in Japan during the Edo period. There’s a story that Saigo Takamori had it. When you have elephantiasis, your skin thickens and swells a great deal and becomes tough, like an elephant’s. But that’s probably not what you have, Miss Mikako. The symptoms are different.” Takatsuki leaned forward, looking at Mikako. “Now, Miss Mikako, I’m a folklore expert. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to buy all sorts of salves and shove them into the wound on your shoulder like they do in Otogibōko. Even if that’s how human-faced tumors are said to be treated, I really don’t think that will heal your shoulder.” Mikako, who until moments before had looked confused, had at some point lifted her head to stare at Takatsuki. In her eyes, Naoya could see a gleam of passion similar to the one she’d displayed when first seeing the professor. A slight chill ran through Naoya at that look. What in the world was this woman thinking as she gazed at Takatsuki? “So, then,” Mikako said in a lightly trembling voice. “What on earth should I do?” “Please go to a doctor,” Takatsuki answered with a bright smile. “I recommend treatment from a dermatologist. You may be left with a scar, but I believe you could expect some results.” Mikako shook her head slowly. “I don’t want to go to a doctor. It won’t work.” “Ah, so you have already been to the hospital, then?” At Takatsuki’s words, Yuuto looked at Mikako in surprise. From what he knew, she hadn’t been to see a doctor. “Yuuto said that you only developed the human-faced tumor several days ago… But that’s not true, is it? When I touched it earlier, you told me it didn’t hurt in most parts. Only the cut that had bled recently hurt, you said. I suspect this growth on your shoulder has been there for quite some time.” “No, it’s recent.” Mikako’s voice distorted as she answered, and Naoya reflexively put a hand to his ear. The corners of Takatsuki’s lips turned up in a grin. “Miss Mikako, you shouldn’t lie.” “I’m not lying.” “You can claim as much, but a lie is a lie, and I’m not interested in the lie itself. If the growth on your shoulder was like the ones you often see in ghost stories, which talk or something, that would be one thing, but as it doesn’t, it makes no difference to me what condition your shoulder is in.” “Hey…!” Perhaps thinking Takatsuki’s words were too much, Yuuto raised his voice. Takatsuki, however, merely looked at Mikako, paying Yuuto no attention. “What I am interested in is the reason you told that lie. What on earth are you hoping for, to go as far as making up a bizarre story about having a human-faced tumor on your shoulder?” Takatsuki’s gaze was fixed on Mikako’s eyes. “Your aim—it was me, wasn’t it?” Yuuto looked at Mikako in shock. Naoya stared at her, too. For some reason, he had a terrible sense of foreboding. Mikako sat up straight under their three gazes, and—slowly, her mouth turned up into a beguiling smile. “It’s because…I’ve wanted to see you. For so long.” Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes glistened. She called out to Takatsuki, her voice like a sensual sigh. “Tengu-sama. I…wanted to see you.” At that moment, Takatsuki stood up from the sofa. With a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, he looked down at Mikako and said without preamble, “I’m leaving. We will not be meeting again.” “Please wait, Tengu-sama!” “Let’s go, Fukamachi.” Naoya got up at Takatsuki’s urging. Yuuto, unable to keep up with the situation, looked back and forth between Takatsuki and Mikako in confusion. But as Takatsuki and Naoya were heading for the door— “Please wait!” From behind them, Mikako called out. As he stopped and turned to look back, Takatsuki’s face suddenly stiffened. What now? Naoya thought, also turning to look, only to see Mikako standing there holding a large birdcage. “Tengu-sama, I remember. I remember when I met you as a child.” The door to what appeared to be a bedroom had been thrown open at some point, and Mikako seemed to have brought the birdcage from there. Inside was a red bird that looked like a large parakeet. Startled at suddenly being moved, the bird flapped its large wings wildly. The sound echoed in Naoya’s ears. Takatsuki’s body swayed violently, and Naoya hurriedly moved to support him from the side. He wasn’t unconscious, but his face had gone pale. Yuuto shot to his feet in alarm. One hand pressed to his forehead, Takatsuki looked at Mikako with his face distorted in anguish. “Miss Mikako. What are you…?” “Tengu-sama. You’re still afraid of birds, aren’t you? You really haven’t changed at all since those days.” Mikako spoke in a singsong voice. In the cage she was holding, the parakeet continued to flap its wings. Takatsuki shook with powerful tremors. “I wonder where your fear comes from? You know everything, but perhaps this is the one thing you still don’t understand.” Smiling, Mikako held the birdcage out toward him. “Tengu-sama. Auntie waits for you, even now. Let’s go back together, to those garden tea parties… Please, Tengu-sama…” Mikako’s sugared whispers mixed with the flapping of the bird’s wings. Takatsuki’s knees gave way. “Professor!” “…Aki!” Yuuto rushed over to support Takatsuki from the other side. As they held up the professor’s limp form, Naoya looked at Mikako. Still holding the birdcage, Mikako was giggling softly. The shoulders of her cardigan had slipped down, revealing the strange, face-shaped growth. She seemed to have hit it against something, as the wound underneath it was once again opened wide. The red, torn gash looked just like a mouth spitting blood and cursing them. Even though he knew it was just an optical illusion, a chill coursed down Naoya’s spine. He shouldn’t have brought Takatsuki here after all. Leaving Mikako’s apartment like they were making an escape, Naoya and Yuuto carried Takatsuki to the car. Thankfully, Takatsuki didn’t seem to have completely lost consciousness, though he looked quite unwell. At Yuuto seeing him resting limply against the window, breathing shallowly, his face turned pale as well. “Are you okay? Maybe you should go to a hospital or something.” “…It’s like a minor bit of anemia, so I’ll be fine if I rest,” Takatsuki replied with a weak smile. “I’m sorry, Yuuto… I wasn’t much help, and I’ve caused you trouble.” “I’m the one who should be apologizing,” Yuuto muttered. “Sorry for dragging you into it… I never imagined things would end up like this.” The sharpness that had been present in Yuuto’s voice on the car ride to the apartment was gone. “I’m sorry,” Naoya said as Yuuto sat in the driver’s seat. “If possible, it would be really helpful if you could give us a ride to the professor’s apartment.” “Yeah, of course.” Giving an immediate reply, Yuuto made to start driving. The moment he gripped the steering wheel, however, he turned around. “…Where are you living now?” he mumbled, his expression a little embarrassed. When Naoya gave him the address, he nodded wordlessly and took off. Mikako’s apartment receded into the distance. Naoya had the feeling Mikako was watching them go from her window and wished the car would just make a turn already. The sound of her giggling mixed with the bird’s flapping wings seemed to echo in his ears, making him feel ill. The sweetness in her voice when she called Takatsuki Tengu-sama was practically poisonous. What was it? Just what on earth had that woman been trying to do? “…Hey, Yuuto,” Takatsuki said. “Does Miss Mikako still meet with my mother?” Earlier, Mikako had said, “Auntie waits for you, even now.” That “Auntie” was probably in reference to Takatsuki’s mother. “I don’t know,” Yuuto replied. “Because of work, my parents probably have more direct contact with the Takamura family than yours, but…I can’t say for sure that she doesn’t.” Putting a hand to his forehead, Takatsuki exhaled slowly and met Yuuto’s gaze through the rearview mirror. “My mother, what’s she like now…? She wasn’t able to leave the house for a while, I believe.” “She recovered a while back. I’m pretty sure she’s socializing a fair bit. I see her at family gatherings, and—from what I’ve seen—she seems normal.” “I see… Well, that’s good.” Takatsuki’s quiet response came out on an exhalation. Naoya knew that Takatsuki’s mother had once had a complete break with reality. Her delusion that he was the Tengu’s Child was born of her love for her son. It was the only interpretation she could accept to explain the void in his past. But that only ended up driving her son, Takatsuki, into a corner. After all, no one suffered more because of that void than Takatsuki himself. Every time his mother called him the Tengu’s Child or hailed him as a living deity, Takatsuki became even more confused. Was he human? A god? Or a monster with clipped wings? And so, one day, Takatsuki told her— “I’m done.” He said that he wasn’t the Tengu’s Child, that he couldn’t behave the way she wanted anymore. That, however, was a direct denial of the fantasy she lived in. Her already taxed nerves took it as a rejection from her son. She couldn’t bear it, and so she began to deny the very existence of the boy right there in front of her. There was no way her beloved son would have rejected her. The “thing” in front of her couldn’t possibly have been her son—that was what she thought. Takatsuki’s mother found a new fantasy and shut herself away inside of it. In that fantasy, her son had not yet returned. Eventually, she was no longer even aware of Takatsuki. She didn’t reply when he spoke to her, didn’t react when he touched her; she didn’t even seem to be able to see him. No—to her, Takatsuki had truly disappeared. Unable to bear it, Takatsuki’s father had sent him to live with Wataru. Since then, Takatsuki hadn’t seen his own mother even once. Naoya looked at the professor. He was leaning fully into his seat, with his eyes closed. His breathing seemed better than before, but his face was still a little pale. “Professor, are you okay? You’re not feeling carsick or anything, are you?” “I’m fine. I’m already feeling a lot better.” Takatsuki opened his eyes and turned to Naoya with a small smile. “So don’t even think about reporting to KenKen about today, Fukamachi.” “Wh-what do you…? It’s not like I’m a spy.” “Lately, I feel like you and KenKen have formed an overprotective alliance toward me.” “Don’t worry; no such alliance exists,” Naoya told him. Takatsuki shot him a sidelong glance, however, as though he couldn’t trust him. Naoya did his best to keep a straight face. It wasn’t like he had lied. He didn’t recall forming any alliance like that… It was just that, as someone often near Takatsuki, he felt it necessary to share information with his guardian, to a certain extent. As he drove, Yuuto spoke up again. “—Listen. About Mikako.” Takatsuki and Naoya looked at him, and he kept his gaze facing forward. “Just…I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. She’s usually not like that at all. She’s a very kind, sensible person. I think the reason she’s acting strange is because of that weird growth on her shoulder.” “But the thing on her shoulder must have been there for a while,” Takatsuki said. “You said you hadn’t seen her in a while, but that wasn’t something that developed just in the last month or so. It’s a lot older than that… You didn’t know about it?” “That’s because…I mean, until now, she hadn’t told me anything about it,” Yuuto stammered, his tone becoming oddly evasive. Takatsuki tilted his head to the side. “Wait, is it possible you never saw Miss Mikako’s shoulder before this incident?” “Uh, it’s… Well, I hadn’t had the chance.” Yuuto’s stammering grew worse at Takatsuki’s question. Takatsuki looked at him, puzzled. Yuuto wasn’t just dating Mikako on the assumption that they would get married; they were already engaged. Naoya wondered how it was possible to never see the shoulders of the other party in that situation. “Um…Yuuto, when was it that you and Miss Mikako got engaged?” “…July.” “…You’re a late bloomer, huh?” “…Like I said! We’re both busy, so we haven’t been able to see each other that much! We’ve only been on a few dates!” “Yuuto, eyes forward! You’re driving! It’s dangerous!” Bright red, Yuuto had turned around, and Takatsuki shouted at him in a panic. Yuuto quickly faced forward again, but it was clear even from behind that he was blushing all the way to his ears. Exchanging glances with Takatsuki, Naoya almost burst out laughing. He had thought Yuuto was an unpleasant person at first, but it turned out he was actually surprisingly adorable. By the time they arrived at the apartment, Takatsuki’s complexion had improved considerably. His legs no longer seemed wobbly as he got out of the car. Yuuto also got out and turned to Takatsuki to apologize once more. “I’m really sorry about this… I’ll meet up with Mikako when things have calmed down and talk to her. She really isn’t normally like that. I’m sure something must have happened. I’ll listen to what she has to say and try to find a good doctor for her shoulder issue.” “Yeah, sure. I think that would be a good idea,” Takatsuki said, nodding. Then, looking at Yuuto again, he smiled brightly. Yuuto, tucking his chin in slightly, stared back at him. “Wh-what is it?” “I was just thinking that you must really like Miss Mikako.” “…What’s wrong with that?” “Nothing. It’s just that when you first came to consult with me, I thought it was because you felt you had to, as her fiancé, or that it was for the sake of the company… I thought it was just a political marriage arranged between your families, but could it be that she was actually your first love?” “Sh-she wasn’t my first love!” Yuuto said, blushing again. Takatsuki glanced over at Naoya, who shook his head to convey that Yuuto wasn’t lying. There was no distortion in his voice. As if to say, “That’s no fun,” Takatsuki shrugged, like he was bored. His sense of humor was twisted. “…I mean, I’ve at least known what she looks like since we were kids. But she wasn’t my first love, and the first time we had a proper conversation was at the matchmaking session.” Yuuto averted his gaze and mumbled as he spoke. “But at the matchmaking session… You know, there’s the point where they say, ‘Why don’t we leave the young people alone to chat?’ We were walking by ourselves in the hotel garden, and… As soon as we were out of the others’ line of sight, she suddenly stretched her arms up really high and said, ‘I actually don’t like tofu salad.’” “Tofu salad?” Feeling as though the conversation had taken an abrupt turn, both Takatsuki and Naoya blinked at Yuuto. Still red in the face, Yuuto continued in a mutter. “They served tofu salad in the meal at the matchmaking session. When we were eating, she ate every dish like it was delicious and left no food behind.” But when she was alone with Yuuto in the garden, Mikako had said with a wry smile, “I pretended to enjoy it because it was a matchmaking party. Growing up, I was taught to be good at lying like that when necessary. So I’m sure I could pretend to like you, too.” Yuuto had been quite taken aback at her unexpected remark. But Mikako hadn’t been done speaking. “But I think it would be tiresome to keep lying to my spouse my whole life. I don’t want to pretend to like you. I want to actually like you, if I can. So could we try speaking more candidly? We can start with just the time it takes us to make one lap around the pond in this garden. During that time, if we can find even one thing that we like in each other, then we might be able to live a bit happily together.” For a while, Yuuto had been speechless, staring at Mikako with a dumbfounded expression. This was an arranged marriage, where the option to refuse was off the table from the start. At the matchmaking session, Yuuto had only been thinking about as far as the fact that he was glad his future spouse was at least someone he knew the face of. “Hey. Did you hear me?” Coming back to his senses when Mikako waved a hand in front of his face, Yuuto had opened his mouth in a panic and said— “…P-plum dressing.” “Plum dressing?” “No, I mean, well…I…I don’t like pickled plums. So plum dressing is…” Immediately afterward, Yuuto had realized he should have said something more tactful. It wasn’t like they were supposed to be sharing foods they didn’t like with each other, but Yuuto had just sort of gone along with that after Mikako had said she didn’t like tofu salad. Mikako had stared at him with wide eyes, and Yuuto had shaken his head and both hands back and forth, flustered. “No, I mean, I meant to say!” At that, Mikako had doubled over and started laughing. She ended up laughing until she was in tears, and with no way to explain himself, Yuuto had thought it was all over. He was certain that, rather than liking him, she would think he was stupid. But as she wiped away the tears at the corners of her eyes with her fingertips, Mikako had said, “Until a moment ago, I thought you were kind of stiff, serious, and boring, but… You’re actually surprisingly cute.” “C-cute? Me?! I’m a guy!” “But your face is bright red… It’s cute,” she had replied, pointing at his face and smiling. Her expression in that moment was bright and somehow so lovely, and that was when Yuuto first thought, Ah. I like her. “—So that’s how it went, and that’s why we were talking about how we could grow to like each other little by little, and it would be fine. Our parents had said that as long as we got engaged, they didn’t care if the marriage came later on, so we figured, let’s not force it, we can meet whenever possible, get to know each other a little at a time, and build our relationship while liking each other in degrees…” Yuuto sighed. He must have been quite confused by Mikako’s recent behavior. Indeed, even from the story they had just heard alone, Mikako seemed rather different from the person they had met earlier. “I don’t know why Mikako just remembered the Tengu-sama thing now… But even I can kind of understand why she would think Tengu-sama could help her when something strange is happening.” Yuuto looked at Takatsuki as he spoke. “I was brought to those Tengu-sama tea parties a few times as a kid, too. Back then, A— …You seemed godlike in some way even to me when I was a child. No matter what anyone asked of you, you had an answer right away. It felt like there was absolutely nothing you didn’t know.” “…I was only pretending to be like that,” Takatsuki said with a bitter smile. “I’m not the Tengu’s Child. I don’t have the power to help anyone and everyone. That’s the truth.” “Yeah, I know… I’m going to tell Mikako that, too.” “I’d be glad if you did. Oh—hey, Yuuto?” Suddenly, Takatsuki looked as if he’d just thought of something. He held his hand out toward Yuuto. “You’ve been on a few dates with Miss Mikako, right? Show me some pictures of your dates.” “Wh-why should I have to show you something like that?!” “As your cousin, I want to see you deepening your relationship with Miss Mikako bit by bit. It’s no big deal, right? So why not?” Takatsuki smiled widely, snatching Yuuto’s phone from his reluctant grip. “Let’s look at them together,” the professor said, so Naoya peered in from the side. The photo app had several shots of Yuuto and Mikako together saved to it. There weren’t many, since they had only been on a few dates, as Yuuto had said. But even so, it was clear from their expressions in the photos that the distance between the two of them was gradually lessening. “Oh, you went to Disneyland. Those Mickey Mouse ears look good on you, Yuuto.” “W-well! Mikako insisted that I wear them!” Takatsuki looked quite happy as he swiped from one photo to the next. Kazu came to Naoya’s mind, for some reason, and he wondered if all older cousins were like this. He felt sure that Kazuya would say the same thing as Takatsuki if Naoya ever got a girlfriend. It was at that moment— Abruptly, as if startled, Takatsuki turned around. Curious, Naoya turned his head, too—and his eyes landed on a face he had never wanted to see again. “Good evening, sir. I take it you’ve been well?” Straight-backed posture. Jet-black hair that was neatly combed back. A dark suit that seemed to melt into the nighttime darkness. A shallow smile plastered to his face for appearance’s sake only. It was Takatsuki’s father’s secretary, Kuroki. The man in charge of keeping an eye on Takatsuki. “What are you here for today?” Takatsuki asked in a low voice, handing Yuuto’s phone back to him. “Oh, I had some business nearby, so I just came to see how you were. But that aside—” As he approached them, Kuroki’s gaze turned to Yuuto. His eyes were strangely sharp in his plain, nondescript face. “My, my. What on earth are you doing here, sir?” “…” Yuuto’s expression had gone blatantly stiff. Kuroki, his superficial smile still in place, went on. “I hate to find fault with some cousinly bonding, but…I can’t say I think much of what’s happening here. Does your father know about this?” It was as though he was scolding Yuuto for meeting with Takatsuki.