Chapter 2

University summer break was long. Two months long, to be precise. There were some students who were spending their break busy with part-time jobs, travel, and training camps, but for students who weren’t involved in anything like that, it was a little bit unbearable. Students like Naoya Fukamachi, for example. “It’s…so…hot…” Naoya muttered vacantly while lying on the floor of his rental studio apartment in Nishi-Kanda. He flapped a paper fan at himself, trying to cool down. A huge chorus of cicadas was singing outside. They sang so vigorously it surprised Naoya—and made him wonder at how many cicadas there were, even in Tokyo. The sun blazed relentlessly, scorching the asphalt. Every day the weather forecast contained the phrase “record highs” in spades. Naoya tried to use the air conditioner as little as possible to save on electricity, so he spent his afternoons in the library, but on days this hot, one had to prepare to meet their maker when simply stepping outside. It was days like this that made Naoya think seriously about the gravity of global warming. It had already been about one month since summer break had begun. Which meant he had another month of summer heat ahead of him. If he had classes to go to, he could at least summon the will to leave his apartment, because he had no choice. But with nothing to do, he didn’t even want to go outside. Then his smartphone vibrated from where it lay on the floor. He had a message. It was from someone in the language class group message on LINE. “Heeey. Anyone wanna go to the beach? I have a friend working part-time at a beachside club on Enoshima, and he invited me. He could give us a little discount.” Language courses were the only college-level classes that shared a similar vibe as the ones taken in high school. Since they were compulsory, there weren’t many students who skipped, and the format was similar to high school English classes as well. Because of that, there was a feeling of camaraderie between classmates. Those in the same language courses hung out a lot more than students who shared other courses. They’d often go out drinking or do things together. That was why the group LINE message had been created. Naoya stared at the message for a little while and watched as the first replies and emojis started rolling in. “I’m in!” “Sorry, I can’t.” “Of course I wanna go, but I’m gonna look bad in my swimsuit unless I lose a few more pounds.” Naoya quietly sent in his own response amid the frenzy of conversation. “Sorry, I’m broke, so I can’t go. Send pictures, though. I want to experience the summer memories, too.” He had to be careful when declining an invitation. Refusing too bluntly could cause offense. He could be labeled a bad egg and get shunned for it. The necessary elements for a good refusal were: a light apology, an excuse that made the other party think it couldn’t be helped, and a sentiment that made it seem like he really wished he didn’t have to miss out… As expected, being so calculating made Naoya feel a little disgusted with himself, but he had grown accustomed to doing things that way in his life. Someone immediately replied to his message with an OK! emoji, and Naoya let out a little sigh when he saw it. The sea, huh, he thought idly. He hadn’t been to the sea in a long time. All the people in his language classes were nice. They would probably have a great time. Running barefoot toward the water’s edge through the scorching sand, screaming in excitement along the way, then plunging into the sea. Eating ramen at the beach house after swimming to their hearts’ content. Maybe even splitting watermelons and playing beach volleyball. Closing his eyes, Naoya thought about how much fun it would all be. Don’t think about it. Activities like that happened outside of his walls. In any case, Naoya’s plans for the summer amounted to grading problem sets and correcting essays part-time for elementary and middle school students. He had signed on as a subcontractor for a remote-learning cram school, because it was easy to do the work from home or the library. He didn’t have plans to go anywhere in particular. It was difficult to travel alone, and he really didn’t have a lot of money. He thought it would at least be nice during his break to see a few of the movies that had piqued his interest. He had an excessive amount of time on his hands. Summer vacation can’t end soon enough, Naoya thought. His smartphone vibrated again. He planned to ignore it if it was a text, but the phone kept vibrating. Someone was calling him. He reached for the phone and saw Takatsuki’s name displayed on the screen. For a second, he hesitated—then resigned himself and answered the call. “…Yes, hello?” “Ah, Fukamachi, hello. It’s hot again, isn’t it? Would you like to go see ghosts with me?” The voice coming through the phone was pleasant to listen to. But the conflicting statements delivered by the voice were an odd match, to say the least. Naoya hadn’t seen Takatsuki since his last lecture before summer break. In the month since then, it seemed like, for better or for worse, the professor hadn’t changed at all. Naoya pressed a hand lightly to his forehead, thinking. Things probably made sense in Takatsuki’s head, but an ordinary person like Naoya needed some kind of connection between topics to understand. “…Um, are you talking about work? Did you get another ghost-related investigation request?” “No, not work. It’s just a normal invitation to go see ghosts. It’ll be fun!” Even though he was a grown adult, his words were childish as usual. But what did he mean by “going to see ghosts”? “Wait, Fukamachi, are you at your parents’ house for summer vacation, by chance? Or maybe you’re in the middle of reveling in your summer break, getting all tanned at the beach or the pool with friends or a girlfriend? If so, I’m sorry! You won’t be able to join me, right?” “I have not gone back to my parents’ house, I do not have friends or a girlfriend, and I don’t like summer, so no, I have not been ‘reveling’ in my summer break, nor do I intend to.” “…I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have asked any of that, should I?” Well, it seemed he had enough sense to worry that he may have hurt someone’s feelings. Naoya let out another small sigh and shifted positions. His own body heat had started to warm his spot on the floor, so he moved to another area that was still cool. “What do you mean ‘going to see ghosts?’ Like an abandoned ruin? Or sneaking into a dilapidated hospital in the middle of the night as a test of courage? That sounds pretty good, actually; it probably wouldn’t be so hot.” “Ah, no, we’d be going during the day, but not to those places. I want to go see ghost scrolls.” “Ghost scrolls?” “Yes. Paintings of ghosts on scrolls! You can only see them at this time of year!” On the other end of the phone, Takatsuki’s voice bubbled with excitement. It’s nice that he always seems to be having fun, Naoya thought as he lay spread out over the floor. Takatsuki had invited him to the Yanaka Encho Festival. Throughout the month of August, at the Zenshoan temple in the Yanaka neighborhood of Tokyo, an exhibition of ghost scrolls collected by a man named Sanyutei Encho was open to the public. Sanyutei Encho was a rakugo storyteller and author who was active from the end of the Edo period to the Meiji period. His representative works included “The Tale of the Peony Lantern” and “The True View at the Kasane Marsh.” Naoya read about him at the library after Takatsuki mentioned him, and his plays seemed pretty scary. People tended to think of rakugo as a comedic medium, but Encho’s specialties had been ghost stories and emotional plays about human nature. Naoya couldn’t go to the sea with everyone, but Takatsuki’s invitation did interest him a bit. It seemed like a fun idea to go see the scrolls, since they could only be viewed once a year around this time. And anyway, he didn’t really want to be someone who stayed sequestered indoors all summer. So on a day in late August, Naoya made his way to Nippori Station. It was his first time going to Nippori, which was a spectacular train station with retail venues inside and tons of people milling about. He was meeting Takatsuki by the north ticket gate. While listening to the music streaming through the earbuds he had jammed into both ears, Naoya reached into his bag for his transit card. He went to swipe it at the ticket gate—and stopped short unintentionally. Takatsuki was standing by the wall opposite the ticket gate. Even though it was summer break, he was wearing a suit, as usual. Because he was already quite tall in addition to being dressed that way, he stood out considerably from the people around him, who were outfitted as one would expect for summertime and showing a lot more skin. But that wasn’t what made Naoya pause. There was another man standing next to Takatsuki. At first glance, Naoya thought, He’s huge. The man was even taller than Takatsuki. On top of that, his body was so well-built that you could tell from miles away. His short-sleeved shirt showed off his solidly muscled arms. Moreover, like some kind of finishing touch, the man was wearing sunglasses. Quite frankly, he was scary. The frightening man was talking to Takatsuki about something. The professor was smiling as he always did, but no matter how he looked at it, Naoya couldn’t help but worry that Takatsuki was being harassed. What should he do? Should he get help? As Naoya fretted, Takatsuki’s gaze landed on him. He beckoned Naoya over with a smile, and seeing no other choice, Naoya reluctantly went through the ticket gate and approached the two men. “Hi, Fukamachi! I’m glad you came. It’s warm today, too, isn’t it?” “…Speak for yourself, Professor, aren’t you hot in that? Wearing a suit and a jacket, even.” “Well, I’m a gentleman! And gentlemen wear suits in public. Besides, it’s made of lighter fabric, so I don’t think it’ll get too hot, you know?” Takatsuki chuckled as he spoke, and sure enough, he didn’t seem to be sweating much. Maybe he was someone who didn’t mind the heat. The scary-looking man with the sunglasses didn’t speak as he watched the exchange between Naoya and Takatsuki. Was the fact that he hadn’t walked away a sign that he was here with Takatsuki? The professor had said some of his graduate students might join them, but this man didn’t look anything like a graduate student. “Ah, I haven’t introduced you, have I? Fukamachi, this is KenKen!” Noticing Naoya’s gaze, Takatsuki made the introduction with a bright grin. But there was no way this guy was called KenKen. Had he actually introduced himself that way to Takatsuki? Not a chance. Then Naoya realized that name—KenKen—sounded familiar. Oh, right. Wasn’t that the person who had taught Takatsuki self-defense? The scary-looking guy opened his mouth. “…You go to Akira’s school?” He spoke in a low, slightly husky mutter. Naoya hurried to reply. “I’m a first-year at Seiwa U. My name is Fukamachi.” “…Kenji Sasakura. I’m an old friend of Akira’s.” As he talked, the scary-looking man—no, Sasakura—took off his sunglasses. His face gave the overall impression of sharpness. Both his straight, distinct eyebrows and his slightly almond-shaped eyes turned sharply upward at the outer edge. With or without his shades on, the effect was the same. His facial features weren’t bad, but the look in his eyes was too cutting. It was frightening. Still smiling, Takatsuki gestured to his intimidating friend. “KenKen lives nearby, and we’ve been friends since we were little. He just happened to be off work today, so I asked him to come. I know his face is scary, but KenKen isn’t a bad person, okay? He’s a detective, after all!” “…Akira. Don’t say my face is scary.” “Ah, sorry. Um, then, your presence is scary?” “That’s worse.” Sasakura glared viciously at Takatsuki, who only smiled back without flinching. This was normal for them, it seemed. Naoya really was surprised to hear Sasakura was a detective, though. If anything, he would have said the man looked like he belonged to a more unsavory profession. In any case, Naoya was glad he hadn’t alerted the authorities earlier. Just then, Takatsuki looked over Naoya’s shoulder and beckoned in a “come over here” motion. It seemed like someone else who was joining them for the day had just arrived. “Sorry I’m late!” A girl wearing a light-blue dress was running toward them, her silky hair swishing back and forth as she moved. She was delicate-looking and quite pretty. She was probably one of the graduate students Takatsuki had invited. “Ah, you’re right on time; it’s just that we all got here early. Besides, Miss Yui isn’t here yet. Hirosawa said he couldn’t come because he had to fill in last-minute at his part-time job.” “Oh, Yui told me she wouldn’t be able to make it today, either! Apparently, the chocolate banana she bought at a local festival stand was bad, and she’s got horrible diarrhea.” “That’s rough. I’ll send her a ‘get well soon’ email later.” “Oh no, you can’t! She told me not to tell you! She said it’s embarrassing… I guess I did tell you, though, didn’t I? Geez.” “Yep, you sure did. Well then, I’ll go with a gentler phrasing. ‘I heard you’re not feeling well,’ or ‘How are you doing?’ Something like that.” “Yes, something like that! Yui really likes you, Professor. She even told me she would rather die than have diarrhea with you around!” The girl pressed her hands together as if in prayer while she recounted the conversation. It probably would be quite embarrassing for a girl’s favorite teacher to find out she was having tummy troubles. Then the graduate student turned her gaze to Naoya. “Huh? Are you the one I met at Professor Akira’s office before? Fukamachi, was it? Long time no see!” Naoya was momentarily confused by her cheerful greeting. He couldn’t remember meeting her at all. When had he met someone this pretty? “Ah, do you not remember me? Maybe because I’m wearing contacts today instead of my glasses. It’s me, Ruiko Ubukata. Remember?” The girl—Ruiko—pointed at her own face. Frantically scouring his memory, Naoya almost gasped when he remembered. That’s right; he had met her before. The female student who had been sleeping on the floor the first time Naoya was invited to Takatsuki’s office. The way she had looked then, with floorboard marks on her cheeks, messy hair, and glasses askew, did not at all match her currently perfectly made-up face. “Fukamachi, I understand what you’re feeling. Miss Ruiko is beautiful, but she usually looks fairly unimpressive…” “Uh-huh… Women sure are amazing…” Naoya nodded a little, answering in a small voice. It was like seeing a metamorphosis. “What I meant to say is: Your memory is amazing, Miss Ubukata. You were half asleep that time and had to leave so quickly; we only met for a moment, but…” “Ah, I’m not as good as Professor Akira, but I remember people’s faces well. I teach part-time at a cram school, so I have to match my students’ faces with their names pretty quickly,” Ruiko replied. Apparently, she worked for two cram schools geared toward middle and high school students, and it was essential for her to be able to recognize each student so she could communicate with them. As everyone who was expected to arrive was present, it was time for the group to get moving. “On that note, Professor, are you okay with the roads around here? You won’t get lost, will you?” “No, I’ve been to Yanaka many times, so I’m fine. I remember all the roads… Now then, since we’re here, let’s cut through Yanaka Cemetery.” In high spirits, Takatsuki headed for the small staircase to the immediate left of the west exit, which led to Yanaka Cemetery. But Naoya didn’t understand why they were purposefully going to walk through a graveyard. Was this a test of courage or something? Walking at his side, Ruiko noticed Naoya’s expression. “Fukamachi, you’re not familiar with Yanaka Cemetery, are you? It’s actually a tourist attraction.” “Is that true? Even with the graves?” “Yep, it’s especially popular with foreign tourists. A lot of famous people are buried here. The most famous is the grave of Tokugawa Yoshinobu. Yokoyama Taikan, the artist, is here, too, among others. I mean, even Japanese people go abroad to see the catacombs and visit the graves of famous monarchs and writers and such, right? Don’t you think that’s pretty much the same thing? Oh, here—bug spray. There are tons of mosquitoes here, so you should put some on.” Ruiko took a small spray bottle out of her bag as she spoke. She was well prepared. “Thank you, Miss Ubukata.” “Just Ruiko is fine. Actually, call me that, please. Everyone calls me Ruiko.” After Naoya was done, Ruiko passed the bug spray to Takatsuki and Sasakura. It felt a little cooler inside the cemetery than it had outside of it. Perhaps because of all the trees. Or maybe it was that the thought of a graveyard somehow made people catch a chill. He was told there were famous people buried here, but from Naoya’s point of view, as far as the eye could see, there were only regular graves with family names engraved on them. “By the way, this is a famous haunted spot in Tokyo, so be careful, okay? Hee-hee.” Ruiko laughed mischievously as she and Naoya walked side by side along the path between the headstones. “Although, all the stories about this place are the same old spooky clichés like seeing a translucent figure walk by or hearing voices, so we can’t be sure how much truth there is to them.” “If all the ghost stories are clichéd, does that mean they might not be true?” “In general, yeah. I mean, stories are things that spread, right? It’s quite common for a ghost story told in one place to take root in another, similar place. The Seven School Mysteries are a good example. Anatomical models moving in the middle of the night, the bleeding Mona Lisa, Hanako-san of the toilet, the thirteenth stair, and so on. Every school’s Seven Mysteries are similar. Who even knows how many Hanako-sans there are in the whole country, at this point? That’s another example of a story that spread to other places, ‘school’ being the common denominator in that case.” Listening to Ruiko talk was a bit like attending a lecture, as one might expect from a graduate student. Her lively voice and crisp enunciation were lovely to hear. “What kind of research are you doing, Miss Ruiko?” Naoya asked. “My research centers on classifying urban legends and rumors. Rather than their contents, I categorize stories based on how and when they appeared. That’s why I read a lot of stories online. Relatively recent creations frequently come from internet forums and Twitter.” “Creations… In other words, made-up stories?” “Right. Untrue stories that someone came up with.” The word untrue made Naoya scowl automatically, and he tilted his head to the side in thought. “If something is a lie, can it still be a research topic?” “Absolutely! Lies can be quite interesting. I mean, that famous photograph of Nessie was fake, right?” “Yeah, um, the ‘surgeon’s photograph,’ right?” Nessie was probably the most famous UMA (unidentified mysterious animal) there was. A plesiosaur-like creature spotted in Loch Ness in the United Kingdom. There had been many sightings of her, among the most well-known being the so-called surgeon’s photograph, which was later proved to be a fake. That news had probably been disappointing to the whole world. “The photo was fake, but because it became famous, the entire world believed in the Loch Ness Monster. A simple lie becoming such a huge story, that alone makes it an indisputable legend, worthy of study. Plus, we can’t deny the possibility that any legend started out as nothing more than a hoax.” Ruiko continued. “I think when you encounter a fake story, you have to think about why it was created and why it spread. It could have just been a joke, or in modern times, a story that got a lot of likes on social media. It could be that someone just wanted to share the story they wrote with others. But if a story doesn’t have what it takes to go viral, it won’t spread that far. The reasons behind that and the prerequisites for it, that’s key… That’s the core of my research. What do you think? Interesting, right?” She grinned at Naoya, one corner of her mouth lifting. Ruiko looked a lot like Takatsuki then, with her eyes sparkling as she talked animatedly about her interests. She was still something of a budding scholar, but Ruiko would surely someday become a true academic after continuing to follow the path of her research. “…What you’re studying certainly is interesting.” “Right? Hey, Fukamachi, you’re also majoring in folklore, right? Are there any topics you’re interested in researching?” “Oh, um, no, I haven’t chosen a major yet.” “Really? I thought you must be aiming to join Professor Akira’s research seminar since you’re so attached to him.” “I’m not attached! Professor Takatsuki got attached to me!” “…That sounds a little fishy, y’know?” “It does not! And what do you mean by that anyway?!” “Heh-heh-heh, so suspicious! Hey, Professor Akira, what’s the real truth here?” With a delighted laugh, Ruiko started talking to the professor. Takatsuki looked back at her, puzzled, then matched pace with her so they were walking side by side. Naoya overheard their conversation as it turned to Ruiko’s research, and he was somehow overcome with a sense of relief. Sometimes he really didn’t understand what women were thinking. Feeling an unexpected gaze on himself, Naoya lifted his head to find Sasakura staring down at him. Sasakura had been walking alongside Takatsuki until a moment ago, but he had switched places with Ruiko since she had gone to monopolize the professor. Sasakura spoke. “Hey, kid.” “…It’s Fukamachi.” “Fukamachi. Are you into that stuff, too? Urban legends and ghosts and monsters and whatever?” He might have been trying to communicate normally with Naoya in his own way, but since his voice was so intimidating, Naoya felt like he was being interrogated. “Not really. I do think Professor Takatsuki’s class is interesting, though.” Sasakura scowled at his response. Yikes. His stare was really intense. “…You know, you don’t have to be so scared. I’m not trying to glare at you; my face is just like this.” “That must be difficult.” “I don’t need you to pity me over it.” Now he really did seem mad. Behind them, Ruiko and Takatsuki were chatting excitedly. If he didn’t know better, Naoya would say they might seem like a good-looking couple on a date. But listening closely, he could hear them talking about urban legends like the wriggling kunekune and the cursed child-stealing puzzle box, the kotoribako. Well, if they were enjoying themselves, it was fine. Suddenly, Sasakura turned right down the path between the graves. Wondering what was happening, Naoya followed him as he made a left turn soon after. Sasakura was now walking down a path parallel to the one they had started on, one row of graves over. Wondering if something had been blocking the first path, Naoya turned to look. He immediately understood. On the original path, some ways ahead, several crows had gathered. The crows were pecking at the ground with their large black beaks, perhaps looking for dropped food. They had changed lanes for Takatsuki’s sake. He was afraid of birds. “…Has Professor Takatsuki been afraid of them since he was young?” Naoya directed his question at Sasakura. The other man scowled at Naoya again. Naoya met his stare, trying with all his might not to flinch. Sasakura let out a sigh. “…Just so you know. Akira isn’t good with birds.” “On campus, once, I saw him almost faint when a dove flew by.” “…He wasn’t like that when he was a kid. He even had a pet sparrow in elementary school. The fear came on later.” Sasakura’s voice was low enough that the pair behind them wouldn’t overhear. “Does that mean something made him like this?” “Why do you want to know?” Surprised by the rebuttal, Naoya snapped his mouth shut. Sasakura looked down at him with his sharp gaze. “You’re old enough to know there are some things in this world you can ask about out of simple curiosity, and some things you can’t, right? What I’m saying is: Drop it. It’s not a fun story to hear.” His voice was quiet, but the division it was drawing was clear. It was the same type of line Naoya often drew. The wall that said “No entry beyond this point.” He was being told not to pry into personal matters. Sasakura’s voice struck like a wooden sword. Direct and solid but subdued enough not to cut like a metal blade. Listening to him speak, Naoya thought he must really care about Takatsuki. At that moment, Sasakura was poised to protect his friend. But then, with a huff, the tone of his voice changed. “…Although, Akira seems to have really taken a liking to you.” A wry smile combined with an exasperated tone made Sasakura sound just like an elder brother looking out for his much younger sibling. Even though he was probably the same age as Takatsuki. “For the time being, he’s going to keep spending time around you. That means he might actually collapse in front of you someday. So take this, just in case.” Sasakura took out a business card and handed it to Naoya. Seeing that it said TOKYO METROPOLITAN POLICE DEPARTMENT on it, Naoya was taken aback. And CRIMINAL AFFAIRS DEPARTMENT—1ST INVESTIGATIVE DIVISION, no less. This man was like the kind of police officer only seen in TV dramas. “My cell number is written on the back.” Sure enough, when Naoya flipped over the card, a phone number had been handwritten on the other side. “If something bad happens, call me. Doesn’t matter what time.” “Something bad…?” “If Akira collapses, you won’t be able to carry him alone, right? Besides, you probably know this since you’ve been around him a bit, but on top of his interests being fundamentally dangerous, his way of thinking is a little weird, too. In a situation where a normal guy would give up, there’s a possibility he would just rush in wildly without batting an eye.” Sasakura continued. “If you’re thinking of cutting ties with him, do it sooner rather than later. That’s in your best interest. But if you want to stick close to him for a while longer… If anything happens, call me. Got it?” “Yes… Understood.” Something occurred to Naoya as he stared at the handwritten phone number. He remembered what Takatsuki had told him before: “…There have been lots of kind people in my life.” Surely, one of the people he had been talking about was Sasakura. He looked scary, but he was actually a nice person. So nice that he wasn’t just looking after Takatsuki—he was looking after Naoya as well. After continuing for a while, they came to a large road. Although, it was still bordered on both sides by the graveyard. The cemetery was considerably vast, it seemed. There was a signpost stating that graves of famous people could be found in this section. As Ruiko had said, there were people who had simply come to visit gravestones as one normally did, but they also passed quite a few people who looked like foreign tourists. Japanese cemeteries were probably a novelty to them. They walked about, looking in all directions, guidebooks and cameras in hand. Although, perhaps Naoya’s group wasn’t that different from the tourists, since it wasn’t like they had come to visit a grave, either. After coming out of Yanaka Cemetery and merging back onto a normal street, they didn’t have to go much farther to reach Zenshoan. At the gate, a sign advertising the ghost scroll exhibition stood. Zenshoan was built by Yamaoka Tesshu during the Meiji period to memorialize those who died in the national conflicts of the Meiji Restoration. However, the building itself was fairly modern, probably because it had been recently rebuilt. The group took off their shoes, stepped onto the cool wooden floor, and entered the exhibition room, where the ghost scrolls were lined up, hanging side by side. Many of the pieces were by artists so famous even Naoya had heard of them: ones like Tsukioka Yoshitoshi, Maruyama Ōkyo, and Kawanabe Kyōsai. There were a lot of attendees at the exhibition, since the collection could only be seen in the present time of year. Even though they were called “ghost” scrolls, each artist had their own way of imagining the subject matter. Some of the scrolls were utterly terrifying, while others contained nothing more than a woman wearing a white kimono. There was even an optical illusion of a painting that Naoya thought only showed the moon, clouds, and willow trees, but when he looked at it from farther away, those elements made up the face of a ghost. “…There’s a lot of variation in these, isn’t there?” Naoya spoke in a low voice, and Takatsuki, who was standing next to him, nodded. “The man who collected these, Sanyutei Encho, hosted storytelling rituals in his lifetime. It’s said that in connection with the one hundred stories ritual, he began a collection of one hundred ghost scrolls. Although, if you look into it later, you can see it looks like there are paintings mixed in with his collection that there’s no way Encho could have acquired himself.” “Everyone likes scary stories and ghosts and such, don’t they? There are a lot of supernatural-themed TV specials in the summer, too…” “Generally speaking, during extended periods of peace when a culture matures, ghost stories flourish. That was true in the Edo period, and it’s true now. We’re talking ghost stories for mere entertainment, not those told for moral or religious reasons.” “Ghost stories are popular when things are peaceful?” “It’s strange, isn’t it? I think it’s probably because, in times of war like the Sengoku period, when corpses were everywhere you looked, death couldn’t just be a fantasy.” “A fantasy?” “I mean, I don’t think any of the artists who painted these actually saw ghosts, right? These images are all products of the imagination.” Come to think of it, that had to be the case. There may have been artists who did see actual ghosts, but most of these ghost scrolls depicted things the painters thought up. They weren’t real. “And yet the reason we all look at these paintings of fake ghosts and think That’s a picture of a ghost is because there’s a shared understanding of what ghosts are. Most people have never seen a ghost but still have an image of what one looks like in their heads. The artists who painted these scrolls created images characteristic of their own imaginations within them.” Naoya looked at all the hanging scrolls lined up along the walls of the exhibition room. A number of ghosts, some resentful, some wearing a smile, some expressionless, all haunting the white spaces of their paintings. All of them born from the minds of artists who lived long ago. But even modern humans recognized them as spirits and specters. Even without ever seeing a ghost, everyone understood: This is what ghosts look like. “I like this painting. She’s very beautiful, and there’s a tinge of sexuality to her, but there’s also a loneliness in her that’s very ghostlike, in my opinion. If I ever meet a ghost, I hope it’s one like this.” Takatsuki pointed at a painting titled Ghost in front of the mosquito net by Hirezaki Eiho. It was a picture of a woman in a white kimono standing before a mosquito net that was illuminated by a standing paper lantern. Her bound hair had come slightly loose, her downturned face was pale and beautiful, and she was gazing sidelong toward the viewer. It wasn’t a frightening painting, and Naoya had a feeling he might not have been able to tell it was a picture of a ghost if he hadn’t been told, but—just as Takatsuki said, it really was quite a lonely image. “Do you think ghosts ever feel lonely?” “If you had to remain in this world as a ghost, that would be a very lonely experience, don’t you think? You’d become something that isn’t the same as the living.” Takatsuki continued, elaborating. “The dead and the living are separate entities. Their existences don’t mesh. Say, for example, you became a different creature from someone you loved—I think that would be quite sad—and lonely.” For some reason, as he spoke, Takatsuki’s expression became just as lonely as that of the ghost in the painting he was staring at. A phobia of birds, an excellent memory—the reason he wanted to move out of his parents’ home as soon as possible. Takatsuki being who he was, he probably carried some complex burdens within. But if he wasn’t going to say anything more, Naoya had no intention of crossing that line himself. He didn’t even need to be told by Sasakura. Naoya wasn’t the type to pry like that. “Well, why don’t we go look at those next? The paintings on that side are interesting, too.” Takatsuki’s eyes were tinged with the color of the night sky as he looked at Naoya, who thought he made the right choice deciding not to ask anything more. After the exhibition, they decided to walk to the Yanaka Ginza shopping district and have some tea. Once again, it was Naoya’s first time in the area. He had a feeling he had seen the so-called Sunset Staircase, the entrance to the district, on television before. The shopping district had a retro feel, but it was a bit surreal to see a Turkish restaurant lit by multicolored lamps upon first setting foot past the entrance. Perhaps because the area was associated with cats, there were shops here and there selling cat-themed goods, and some places even had cat statues on their roofs. They bought cake donuts in the shape of cat tails and had decided to keep strolling a bit as they ate when a voice called out to them. “Ah, Professor Takatsuki!” The voice came from behind. When they turned, there were two girls standing a little ways away. One of them was tall, with a slightly bold-looking face and long black hair tied up in a ponytail. The other was a petite, slightly plump, mild-mannered-looking girl with brown hair cut in a short bob. “Ah, you two are in Folklore Studies II!” As expected, Takatsuki remembered the faces of every student taking his class and waved at the two girls. The two of them rushed over with happy expressions. “I can’t believe it—running into Professor Takatsuki in a place like this; it’s like a dream!” “We just went to see the ghost scrolls at a place over there called Zenshoan!” Takatsuki smiled and nodded. “Is that so? We just came from there as well. Did you find the scrolls interesting?” “Yes! Some of them were pretty scary, and it felt like going to a haunted house!” “The scene Seiu Ito drew from The Ghost of Chibusa Enoki was so scary I feel like I’m going to have nightmares about it…” The girls took turns telling Takatsuki about the experience. The professor was really popular with women. They both seemed genuinely happy to run into Takatsuki, even if it was only by chance. Then, just as Naoya was thinking that the bold-looking girl’s expression had suddenly turned serious, she spoke again. “Professor, I’m sorry, but I think it might have been some sort of fate for us to meet here, because, actually… There’s something I want to ask you about.” “Hmm? What is it?” Takatsuki’s face was kind as he prompted her to continue. “Um… You’re investigating strange incidents and the like, right? I saw something like that written on your website.” “A-Aya! Professor Takatsuki is out with his friends right now; we shouldn’t bother him!” The mild-mannered-looking girl gestured to Sasakura and Ruiko. Apparently, Naoya didn’t register in her field of vision. Was he so plain that he faded into the background? But the girl called Aya shook her head with a determined look. “Kotoko, you say that, but I don’t know when I’ll see Professor Takatsuki next! If things go on like this until the end of summer break, I’ll go crazy!” The fact that she saw Takatsuki’s website and got the idea to consult him meant she was experiencing some kind of mysterious phenomenon. There was a sense of urgency in her voice, just as there had been in Nanako’s when they dealt with her case before. It was a bit thoughtless to interrupt someone’s private free time to approach them for help. But it was possible that what she was going through was so frightening that she had no choice. The girl named Kotoko glanced at Takatsuki with a troubled expression. “B-but, well, why not just make an appointment for now and meet another day…? We don’t want to be rude…” Her voice was shy. Takatsuki looked between the two of them before nodding once. “It seems like something is really bothering you, yes? If that’s the case, I’d rather you tell me about it right away.” Somehow managing to find enough seats for the whole group in a café at the end of Yanaka Ginza, they decided to settle in there to listen to the girls’ story. Naoya thought, as Takatsuki’s assistant, that he would be the only extra person in attendance, but Ruiko and Sasakura tagged along as well. Ruiko seemed interested in the girls’ story, while Sasakura just seemed to have time to waste. The girls—aside from Ruiko—looked a bit reluctant to sit with the very intimidating Sasakura, but nevertheless, they started to open up by the time their orders arrived. The strong-willed girl’s name was Ayane Harasawa, and the shy one was Kotoko Makimura. The two had been friends since middle school and seemed remarkably close. They were both first-years in the Literature Department, but they were in different language classes than Naoya, so he wasn’t acquainted with them. The one having trouble was Ayane. “Um, Professor, before, you gave us extra credit if we wrote about a weird experience on our report, right? Do you remember what I wrote on that assignment?” She was talking about the report that got Naoya caught up in Takatsuki’s work to begin with. Taking a sip of his iced tea, which was loaded with sweetener, Takatsuki nodded. “I remember. You included a photo as well, didn’t you? Right, it was like this.” He suddenly looked off into the air. “Last week, I went to the large stage at Hibiya Park Concert Hall with friends to hear a performance, and on the way home, I took a little walk in Hibiya Park. I thought, since it was nighttime and quite dark, it would be like a test of courage and might be fun. “Then I found a straw doll on one of the trees in the park. There were tons of needles stuck into it, giving me the strong impression that it was used to curse someone, and I was afraid of it. I took a picture of it just in case, so please take a look. (And thank you for the extra points!)” Ayane and Kotoko were astounded. “…Wow, that’s amazing! Professor, you memorized what I wrote?!” “Yep, my memory is rather good. I remember the photo, too. There were twenty pins, ten ordinary needles, and one nail stuck into the body and head. The doll itself was quite well-made, so I didn’t get the feeling it was something crafted out of resentment by an amateur. I thought they might have bought it online or something.” In modern times, where anything could be ordered from the internet with the click of a button, it seemed even cursed items could be easily acquired. Whether that was a good thing, well, it was hard to say. “So has something happened related to your report?” “Ah, well… Um, I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but…ever since I saw that straw doll…needles have…” “Needles?” “Needles have been falling, all over…” Ayane explained the situation. She told them that, for example, sometimes when she stood up after sitting, pins would fall from the hem of her skirt to the floor with a tinkling sound. Or if she looked around after getting up, dozens of sewing needles would be strewn over her chair. When she was walking, she would suddenly see a flash of silver light over her feet—an embroidery needle falling. The type and number varied by occasion, but before she knew it, needles were falling randomly from all over and around her body. She told them it had happened countless times. “That is scary. Have you been injured by them at all?” “I haven’t, but… They really are just falling, but somehow, it freaks me out. It’s like the needles are haunting me.” Ayane wrapped her arms around herself as she spoke. At her side, Kotoko began to speak in a trembling voice. “Um, the friend Aya mentioned in her report was me. I saw the doll, too. When Aya told me she was going to take a picture of it, I asked her to stop. But she said she was going to write about it for her report and didn’t listen to me…” Takatsuki cast his eyes downward and lightly combed through his own hair with one hand. Then he lifted his gaze and looked between Ayane and Kotoko for a little while. “Miss Makimura, you saw the doll as well, yes? Have needles been falling from your body, too?” “As for me, no… Nothing strange has been happening to me.” Kotoko shook her head, underscoring her reply. Takatsuki’s head cocked to the side. “That’s odd. You were together when you saw the doll, so why is Miss Makimura unaffected, I wonder? The only thing that separates you is…that Miss Harasawa took a picture and wrote about it in her report, I guess?” “So that is the cause, then?!” Ayane’s face was scrunched up like she was about to cry. She put her elbows on the table and held her head in her hands. “I thought that picture was interesting at first, so I set it as my phone background, but then it started to creep me out, so I deleted it. The needles, too—I throw them away as soon as they appear. But I’m telling the truth! Professor, do you believe me? I don’t know what to do anymore…!” “…It’s all right; I believe you.” Takatsuki’s voice was soft. Ayane raised her head to look at him, and Takatsuki smiled kindly in return. “Of course I believe you. It’s me we’re talking about here.” “Professor Takatsuki…” Ayane looked at Takatsuki, relief and trust swirling in her gaze. The tears in her eyes shone with reflected light. At the same time, Takatsuki’s eyes were also sparkling as he stared at Ayane… Though, of course, that was due to his curiosity. Suddenly, Takatsuki leaned forward over the table and began to speak in an excited tone. “Modern ghost stories are my area of expertise! As a normal story, the needles just falling is a little simple, but it makes for a wonderful ghost story!” Ah, this could be bad, thought Naoya. If an object of interest was placed in front of Takatsuki, he would throw himself at it without reservation. Ignoring other people’s feelings and the circumstances surrounding the situation, he would become absorbed in it like a child. Takatsuki himself seemed to believe that he did this because he “lacked common sense,” but Naoya’s theory was that the man’s thoughts about his research may well be running out of control. In any case, it put other people off, and Takatsuki couldn’t control it well on his own, so it was a burden on him. Somebody had to put a stop to it at a suitable time. “I’m curious as to where these needles are coming from. Do you know how many needles there have been so far? If it matches the number of needles that were stabbed into the straw doll, that will tie up the story nicely, but— Ouch!” Suddenly, Takatsuki let out a cry of pain. The table shook with a clatter. It seemed like Sasakura had kicked Takatsuki in the shin. The professor glared at his friend tearfully. “That hurt! What are you doing, Kenji?!” “Shut up. You’re being loud.” Sasakura himself spoke in a low voice. “Calm down a little. You’re the only one getting excited here.” “…Oh.” Looking back at Ayane, Takatsuki’s expression turned into shame. Ayane was sitting with her back pressed into the back of her chair, as if she had been pushed away by Takatsuki’s energy. She looked bewildered. So did Kotoko. “I… I’m sorry, KenKen. I did it again, didn’t I?” “If you’re going to apologize, say it to her, not me.” Sasakura jutted his chin toward Ayane. “Um, well, I’m sorry, Miss Harasawa! Your story is very interesting, so I got all excited all of a sudden… But this is a difficult situation for you, so I apologize.” “Oh, no, it’s okay… I’m just happy you believe me, Professor.” Ayane waved away the apology, but her face still looked a little off. Apparently, just like Naoya, Sasakura was one of Takatsuki’s sensible people. Since they had known each other for such a long time, Sasakura didn’t show him any mercy. After clearing his throat with a small ahem, as if to start the conversation over, Takatsuki said, “Um… Anyway, I believe your story, Miss Harasawa. I would really like to solve this mystery, but…there are some peculiarities.” Ayane frowned in response. “What peculiarities?” “It’s strange that things are only happening to you and not to Miss Makimura. And even stranger—why needles?” “Huh?” Ayane blinked. Kotoko’s expression showed that she, too, wasn’t sure what the meaning of the question was. Naoya and the others as well looked at Takatsuki in confusion. Takatsuki explained. “I felt a bit uneasy when I saw that the straw doll was stabbed not just with nails but also with needles. Because, as a rule, nails are used on straw dolls, you see. And even if we try to separate the matter of the doll from what’s happening to Miss Harasawa, the question remains—why needles? In this day and age, needles aren’t that common. In the past, hand sewing and mending was much more common, so needles and sewing kits were both quite familiar items. But now we really only use them to attach buttons, right? The average person doesn’t have many opportunities to get their hands on a needle.” “Ah— But we—” Ayane started to speak before snapping her mouth shut. Takatsuki inclined his head, prompting her to continue, and Ayane and Kotoko shared a look. It was Kotoko who opened her mouth to answer. “Um… We were in the crafting club all the way through high school. Aya and I both. So needles might be more familiar to us, comparatively speaking.” “But I don’t remember handling any needles irresponsibly or anything! I’ve even been to the Festival of Broken Needles! So the only thing I can think of that caused this is…” The straw doll. “It really was a bad idea to use that picture as my phone background, wasn’t it? It’s like all the needles from the doll are coming back to me…” Ayane’s gaze roved anxiously, and her voice trembled. Kotoko pat her back to try to comfort her. Crossing her arms over her chest, Ruiko hummed contemplatively. “I wonder about that. Ordinarily, I’d say this is someone harassing you, but if that were the case… What would be the point in planting needles on someone? As some kind of warning?” “…That doesn’t make sense. A warning is meaningless if the target doesn’t know what they’re being warned against. From what I’ve heard, these guys are scared because they don’t know why this is happening,” Sasakura said. Naoya turned to Takatsuki. “Are there any other stories like Harasawa’s? Ones about being cursed after seeing a straw doll—or being haunted by needles?” “Good question. I know of some needle-related stories from the Edo period, but they don’t quite fit this case. As for being cursed after seeing a straw doll… Well, it’s not as if they saw the Hour of the Ox Ritual itself. We could have a huge problem if they did, though.” “What?” “If you witness someone performing the Hour of the Ox Ritual, something bad will happen. There are various theories as to what that means, such as the effect of the curse disappearing or the curse hitting you instead. People also say that to avoid those bad outcomes, the person casting the curse has to kill the person who saw them.” Ayane and Kotoko both went white as a sheet at Takatsuki’s commentary. The two girls took each other’s hands and leaned in close to one another. Their faces weren’t alike at all, but they looked like twin sisters. It seemed their being very close friends was the truth. Ruiko turned to the girls with a calming smile. “It’s okay; what you saw wasn’t an actual Hour of the Ox Ritual, right? There aren’t many stories of people being cursed just from looking at a straw doll, so it’s all good! Now, how about some cake? Here! It looks delicious, doesn’t it?” All three of the girls had ordered pastries with their drinks. Ruiko got a fruit tart, Ayane got chocolate cake, and Kotoko ordered a no-bake cheesecake. Because of the subject of their conversation, no one had touched their food yet. At Ruiko’s urging, the other two girls picked up their forks. Ruiko began eating her cake as well. Takatsuki looked over at Naoya. “Fukamachi, you could have ordered some cake, too, you know? I’m paying.” “I told you: I’m not a fan of sweets.” Naoya pulled his own iced coffee toward himself as he replied. “Speak for yourself, Professor. You have such a sweet tooth, you should have ordered cake or a parfait or something.” “This is hardly the appropriate time for that sort of thing.” “You care about appropriate timing? I didn’t realize.” “…KenKen, I get the feeling Fukamachi is bullying me. Am I imagining things?” “You’re imagining things.” Takatsuki swirled his straw around in his iced tea in response to Naoya’s and Sasakura’s coldness. He seemed to be sulking. Then— “…Ow…!” Suddenly, Ayane cried out in a small voice before covering her mouth with her hand. Kotoko touched Ayane’s shoulder, her expression surprised. “Aya? What’s wrong?” “…” Ayane didn’t answer, but she did take her hand away from her mouth. Something red was dripping from the corner of her lips. “Wha—?!” Sasakura leaned over the table. Ayane lowered her head and spat out the contents of her mouth onto the edge of her plate. Globs of what had just been chocolate cake came out along with bloody saliva. In the dark-brown mess, something shone momentarily—a flash of silver. Takatsuki reached for it without hesitation, picking it up in his fingers. “…A needle.” There in his grasp was a single sewing needle, broken in two. “That was in the cake?! Hey, show me your mouth!” Standing up, Sasakura held Ayane’s chin in his hand and tilted her head back. He peered into her mouth. “…All right, there’s no other foreign object. Drink a little water, then show me your mouth again so I can check the wound.” Ayane followed his directions, letting Sasakura examine her again after sipping from her cup. Kotoko, face pale, trembled and shook as she looked at her friend. “Why…? Why is this happening…? I hate this; I’m so scared…!” Kotoko began to cry, and Ruiko went to her side to comfort her. In the meantime, the people around them had begun to chatter. A café employee approached their table nervously. “Excuse me…? Um, is something the matter…?” “Yeah, actually—” Sasakura began to answer the employee’s question, but Ayane gripped his arm with a quivering hand. She ignored Sasakura when he looked down at her in surprise, instead bowing her head to the employee. “No! It’s not the café’s fault; it’s mine! All of it—it’s my fault…!” Her voice was shrill, the corners of her mouth still stained with blood. Plink, plink. Naoya, hearing a faint tinkling sound, looked down at the floor and nearly jumped out of his seat. Dozens of red pins were strewn about Ayane’s feet. Ayane’s injury didn’t appear to be serious, but to be safe, Takatsuki decided to escort her to a clinic. She told them that the needle must have been inside the cake, and when she bit into it without noticing, the needle snapped and cut her mouth. It was good that she had spit it out, because things could have been much worse if she had swallowed it. When the café employee heard that there was a needle inside the cake, he turned pale and called for the manager, but Ayane insisted the café was not at fault. She didn’t want it to turn into a big incident, so for the time being, no reports were filed. Takatsuki called for a taxi, helped Ayane and Kotoko into the back seat, and closed the car door behind them. Before getting into the passenger seat, he turned to look at Naoya. “I’m sorry, Fukamachi. I invited you for a normal outing, and it turned into this. Maybe my daily wishes are too strong, and I’ve finally started summoning ghosts toward myself.” “…No, well, I don’t mind. And shouldn’t you be happy if that’s the case, Professor?” “Personally, I’m quite pleased, but I hate to see a student get hurt. But more importantly, Fukamachi—” Taking a step toward Naoya, Takatsuki lowered his voice. “What did you see with your powers of observation? Were they lying? Telling the truth?” “They weren’t lying… I don’t think.” “That’s a bit of a vague answer. Are you not sure?” “No… At least, there were no lies in their words.” That much was certain. Neither of their voices had warped. Hearing this, Takatsuki looked at the two girls in the taxi with a murmured hmm. Leaning against Kotoko’s shoulder, Ayane seemed close to tears. Kotoko was crying again, holding Ayane close. “I see… Well, then she may really be haunted by needles. How troublesome.” As he stared at the two frightened girls, Takatsuki’s eyes were once more tinged with blue. That night, Naoya received a call from Takatsuki. “Fukamachi, I have some work for you; is that all right?” “What is it?” “Well, it’s about today’s incident.” According to Takatsuki, Ayane’s wound was minor, but both she and Kotoko were in quite a bit of shock. After being examined by a doctor, the two girls took a taxi home. “Do you want me to look for that straw doll?” “Ah, Ruiko and I will do that, so you don’t have to. It’s in the scope of her research, so. There’s something else I need from you.” “What is it?” “I want you to make some inquiries.” “Inquiries…?” “I want to know, in detail, what those two are normally like. On campus, outside of campus, too.” Takatsuki elaborated. “I had the feeling I’d seen them around campus before, so I dug up some memories. I realized I’d seen them many times from afar, and every time, they were always together. They seemed very close. Even when walking in a group of other girls, they appeared to cling to each other, like they might start holding hands at any moment.” Takatsuki could remember anything he saw with his own eyes in vivid detail. Even when he witnessed the chaotic sights on campus, he remembered it all perfectly. And apparently, his memories could just be leafed through later, like photos in an album. “But lately, there’s been a male student tagging along with the two of them, like an add-on. I haven’t taught him before, so I don’t know who he is. He was carrying a book that said INTRODUCTION TO ECONOMICS on it, so I’m thinking he’s in the Economics Department. I remember seeing his face last year, so he’s probably a second-year. I want to know who he is. Fukamachi, you’re in the same year as the girls, so I wonder if you could find something out through friends?” “I can’t. I don’t have any friends.” “Huh?” Naoya could sense Takatsuki was tilting his head in confusion on the other end of the phone at the flat dismissal. He thought perhaps it was something that someone like Takatsuki wouldn’t be able to understand. “No, well, I have some acquaintances—people I can talk with if we’re in the same place. But no one I’m really friends with. I didn’t even have plans to meet up with anyone this summer.” “…” Takatsuki was suddenly quiet. His silence was a problem for Naoya, since they were talking over the phone. He couldn’t tell what kind of face the other man was making. Was he angry? Shocked? Sympathetic? “Um, Professor?” Timidly, Naoya spoke up, unable to bear the quiet. “…I see. I understand.” Takatsuki finally replied, and more importantly, he said he understood. Naoya sighed with relief. He had avoided having to talk to people. It was a pity he wouldn’t be able to get paid, but not everyone was cut out for some kinds of work. Though, he shouldn’t have been so quick to relax. “If that’s the case, Fukamachi, then let’s host a barbecue party together!” “…Excuse me?” This was Takatsuki he was dealing with, after all. A normal person like Naoya might never be able to understand how someone like Takatsuki thought. Oh well. So in less than two weeks, the preparations for Takatsuki’s “barbecue party” were complete. According to Takatsuki, if it was difficult for Naoya to interrogate people individually, all they had to do was provide a place where he could do it. They would put on the barbecue as a social gathering for students in Folklore Studies II, and Naoya could make his inquiries there. Most of the students in Folklore Studies II were Literature Department first-years. There had to be some people in the class who were friends with Ayane and Kotoko. Naoya might be able to glean some information about the pair from his classmates. They put out the invitation through the college’s social media. Seiwa University regularly used social media to share communications from courses. It was a convenient way to reach a lot of students at once. Although, it was summer break. Many students went on long trips or visited their families. Nonetheless, more than thirty people responded to the sudden invitation showing interest in the event. Probably because Takatsuki was so popular with students. So one day in early September at the barbecue rental spot in Shinkiba Park, Takatsuki’s “exciting barbecue party” was held. Apparently, these days, barbecue rentals offered packages that included equipment and ingredients, so one could show up empty-handed and still join in. It was amazing. “Wow, Professor, you really did put on this crazy event just because you wanted to gather information, huh…?” “Isn’t it better to enjoy ourselves when we can? And it’s the summertime! What’s a summer without a barbecue?” Takatsuki smiled as he looked around at the students who were starting to prepare their grills. Even though it was a barbecue, the professor was still wearing a suit. Naoya wondered if he realized his clothes would probably smell like smoke and food later. “I’m glad more students came than expected. Fukamachi, make sure you use this time to build relationships with everyone, too. It’s an important memory for your first summer at university.” “…I mean, I don’t really care about that kind of thing.” In truth, he would rather stay away from crowded places as much as possible. Still, he was participating in the gathering for two reasons. First, because he was drawn by the chance to eat meat without paying a lot for it, since Takatsuki was shouldering the cost of the event. And second, because he was curious about Ayane and Kotoko. It was hard not to be curious about someone when they spit up a needle right in front of you. The two girls were among the students who were setting up. As could be expected, neither of them seemed to be in high spirits. “So they came, after all,” Naoya said. Takatsuki looked at the girls with an expression of agreement and nodded. “Yep. Just as I thought.” “Huh?” Naoya’s head cocked to the side in confusion. But Takatsuki just looked at Naoya and smiled without answering. “Now, then. Let’s try casually questioning everyone, shall we?” “What…? We’re really doing it?” “Of course we are; that’s why we’re having this barbecue party! I’ll go ask around over there, Fukamachi, so you go interrogate another group, okay? Just keep it casual, and don’t let Miss Harasawa and Miss Makimura catch on to what you’re doing! —Heeey, can I join you at that table?” “Huh, Professor, hey, wai—” Before Naoya could stop him, Takatsuki smiled like Naoya’s childhood golden retriever and ran off to join a suitable group. “Oh, Professor Takatsuki! Come on over!” “Professor, what would you like to drink? I’ll get it for you!” “What do you want to eat, Professor? I’ll grill whatever it is!” Excited voices erupted from the table Takatsuki had joined. He had been surprisingly shrewd in his choice—his group was entirely made up of girls. Reluctantly, Naoya looked around the venue for a table that still had open seats. As he did, his eyes lit upon a familiar head of brown hair. One of his language course classmates, a boy named Nanba Youichi. The person he had spoken to on the first day of Takatsuki’s class. “Hey, Fukamachi. Over here, over here, we have an open seat!” Nanba beckoned to him, his tone seeming friendly. Looking closer, Naoya realized everyone at the table was in his language class. “Yo, how have you been, Fukamachi? What did you do over break?” “Well, it was hot, so I didn’t do much… You went to the beach with everyone recently, right? How was it?” “Ah, yeah, that. There were tons of jellyfish, so it was a bit hard to swim. And the ramen at the beach house was made by amateurs, so it was mushy, y’know? But eating it in a place like that somehow made it taste nice.” A smile spread over Nanba’s face, which was noticeably tanner than it had been before the summer. Usually, Nanba was someone Naoya would talk to if he ran into him, and they had eaten lunch together a few times. He was honest and sociable and didn’t lie much, so he was easy for Naoya to interact with. There were other students at their grill who hadn’t gone to the beach, either. Many of them hadn’t seen each other in weeks, and everybody was enjoying themselves. “Even though we’re not in a seminar, our class gets to have a barbecue party.” “Yeah, I’m so happy. I mean, Professor Takatsuki invited us!” “If given the choice, I would have liked it to start in the evening instead of the day, though! Then we could be drinking, too, y’know? Right, Fukamachi?” “…I think that probably wouldn’t have been an option, since we’re pretty much all still underage.” Even though they had only organized the event to do some digging, the students all seemed to be in high spirits. They were talking loudly and spiritedly, and so far, there had been no sign of any warping, so Naoya relaxed a little and quietly joined the conversations. As each table began grilling meat, a pleasant smell wafted into the air. Here and there across the stations, fierce competitions started to unfold among people with disposable chopsticks and plates in hand. Some people kept only eating pieces of meat, and raised voices sounded from various tables, telling them to “eat some vegetables!” “I’m a growing boy! I want more meat; give it here!” “What are you gonna do if you grow any taller?! I’m shorter; give the meat to me!” “Hey, boys, eat your vegetables! You’re all idiots, so you need to eat some green onions!” Everyone sure is lively, Naoya thought, transferring some meat and vegetables from the serving tray onto the grill. Having lost big-time in a game of rock-paper-scissors, he was put in charge of grilling. Surprisingly, he found himself enjoying it. Everyone gathered at his table watched over the grill with bated breath as the food sizzled. When he noticed the ingredients starting to change color, Naoya flipped them over one by one starting from the beginning of the row. The other students still kept watch. Then, when the meat was cooked just right, everyone’s chopsticks shot forward at once with the speed of a chameleon’s tongue snagging its food. Those who missed out on the meat reached for the vegetables in resignation, and they seemed to prefer the corn over the carrots and bell peppers. Having grasped the situation after the first go, Naoya deliberately switched up where he placed the meat and vegetables to try to give people who failed to grab the meat last time a better chance. He made sure to figure out the timing so there wouldn’t be much of a pause between rounds. This kind of position may be called a grill master, but it felt more like being a mama bird feeding hungry chicks. “Hey, Nanba. That meat isn’t ready yet. Put it back.” “Whaaat? It’s fine! I like it like this!” “Nope. You get a penalty for making a false start. Eat that pepper.” “Damn, you’re strict, Fukamachi.” Then, looking up, Naoya saw Ayane and Kotoko at a table across the way, and he froze. Crap. He had gotten so caught up in grilling that he almost forgot the reason they were here in the first place. Just then, one of the girls offered to take over for him, and Naoya gratefully let her. He looked around timidly at the other students at his table. “Um… By the way, is anyone here friends with Harasawa or Makimura?” “Huh? Where’d that come from?” Nanba cocked his head in confusion at Naoya’s question. “Um, well, it’s just, when I went out the other day, I saw them crying. So I was just wondering if something had happened.” It wasn’t like he could say he saw Ayane spit out a needle, after all, so he tried to explain without letting that unpleasant information slip. Nanba looked even more puzzled. “Fukamachi, are you friends with Harasawa and that group?” “W-we aren’t close, or anything… You could say we’re acquaintances. We’ve just talked a little.” “If you mean Ayane Harasawa and Kotoko Makimura, I’m in the same club as them.” The girl who had taken over grilling for Naoya spoke up. He was pretty sure her surname was Aoki. “Which club? Crafting?” “No, English club. They’re both nice girls; they hardly ever skip club activities.” Aoki skillfully placed meat on the grill as she spoke. “Ah, but now that I think of it, they did say they were in the crafting club up through high school. You sure know a lot, Fukamachi.” “Oh yeah… I heard them talking once about doing crafts as a hobby.” “But it seems like they still carry around sewing kits, I guess? Ayane dropped some pins once. Right when she got up from her chair, pins came tumbling down. When I asked her what happened, she said the hem of her skirt was frayed, and she had pinned it up temporarily and forgotten about it. It kinda surprised me, though, like, who would do that sort of thing, usually? If you were in the crafting club, you could sew it up in no time, right?” “Ah…I see…” By chance, Naoya had encountered eyewitness testimony regarding Ayane being haunted by needles. Saying she had used pins to temporarily fix her hem didn’t really seem like an effective way to not appear suspicious to the people around her. “Hey, Aoki. Do you happen to know who those two are friends with?” “Hmm… Everyone in our club gets along pretty well, I think. Although, Ayane and Kotoko are always attached at the hip, so I don’t know if there’s anyone else… The only person who comes to mind is Takasu. He’s a second-year. That’s a bit different, though, I guess.” “Different, how?” “Takasu is an upperclassman in our club. He and Ayane started dating around May. He’s a nice person, so he’s careful about not hurting Ayane and Kotoko’s relationship. Apparently, he even invited Kotoko to join him and Ayane on a date.” “Ah… I see. So does that mean Makimura isn’t dating anyone?” “Kotoko? No, I don’t think she is. She’s a lot shyer than Ayane.” “Right…” Just in case, Naoya also asked what department Takasu was in. He really wanted to ask for Takasu’s contact info, but it would have been weird to go that far. Suddenly, Naoya was thumped hard in the side, making him jump. “Wh-what are you doing, Nanba?” “Fukamachi. Could it be? Are you blossoming?” “What?” Fixing his dislodged glasses, Naoya looked back at Nanba. The other boy chuckled creepily and grabbed Naoya by the shoulders. “Which one? Which girl are you into? Harasawa? No, she’s spoken for. Is it Makimura?” “…Nanba, it’s not like that, okay?” Naoya removed Nanba’s hands as he answered. But Nanba was undeterred and grabbed at him again. “Aw, come on! You hardly ever ask about other people! Or it’s not like you to do that, more like. You don’t seem interested in anyone else, usually.” “Oh…” Nanba’s words were surprisingly dead-on, and Naoya was momentarily shocked into silence. “W-well, that’s because, um—” He tried to think of some excuse, but Nanba shook his head. “I’m relieved to see you’re just as curious about the people around you as anyone else would be. I mean, I was surprised to see you here today. You should come to more of our drinking parties and stuff, you know? I know you never come because of money, but I found a cheap place we can go, so—” “Ah… Yeah. S-sorry…” As they talked, more meat had been cooked and was ready to eat. In an instant, the expression in Nanba’s eyes changed. He drew his chopsticks with the quickness of a bolt of lightning. But the other students didn’t intend to lose, either. Having already fought this battle countless times, they had learned each other’s tendencies and movements. Multiple chopsticks met over the grill top, and after a fierce fight, a piece of meat flicked off someone’s chopsticks and into the air. People started yelling, and without thinking, Naoya screamed along with them, chasing the still airborne meat with his chopsticks. Takatsuki had told him to build some relationships, and Naoya had said he didn’t care to. He didn’t need summer memories or friends. But…he couldn’t deny that this wasn’t so bad, really. As the barbecue party was wrapping up, Takatsuki and Naoya met in front of the restroom to report their findings. “I’ll go first.” Takatsuki raised his hand slightly. “Several of the students said they had seen Miss Harasawa’s phone background when it was the picture of the straw doll. They said she changed the picture reluctantly because people were telling her it was in poor taste. It seems Miss Harasawa is a rather spirited girl who likes to do strange things, and Miss Makimura watches over her antics from the sidelines while admonishing her with a smile. They both went to the same private all-girls high school, and apparently Miss Makimura wanted to go straight on to the affiliated women’s college. But because Miss Harasawa wanted to come here, Miss Makimura changed her plans and came to Seiwa as well. Miss Makimura is seemingly always saying ‘I’m helpless without Aya,’ but according to the girls around them, it’s Miss Harasawa who is helpless without Miss Makimura.” As expected, Takatsuki had been able to question the girls’ group he had joined because he was so popular with them. He had gathered a lot of information. “They’re awfully close, they’re in the same club, and they usually do everything together. The other girls said it’s like they continued on with the vibe from their all-girls school, but I wonder if that’s what all-girls schools are like? Incidentally, it seems the reason they’re in my class isn’t because they have an interest in folklore, but because of my looks.” He had gathered some trivial information while he was at it. Though, Naoya suspected that most of the girls in his class were taking it for the same reason. “But as for the male student who recently started hanging out with Miss Harasawa and Miss Makimura, none of the girls in my group knew anything about him. Only that they had seen him before. Is no one interested in who their friends are dating?” “Ah, I figured that out in my group. He’s Harasawa’s boyfriend. He’s a second-year in the same club named Takasu.” It was Naoya’s turn to raise his hand and add on to Takatsuki’s information. “Ah, so someone in your group did know something. So Miss Harasawa is the one he’s going out with?” “Yes. But apparently he’s wary of getting in the way of their friendship, so he invites Makimura to come along with them on dates.” “I wonder if that way of handling things is the right choice… And? Did you learn anything else?” “A girl in the same club as Harasawa and Makimura saw pins fall from Harasawa’s skirt. Harasawa told her she had used pins to temporarily fix a frayed hem.” “That’s a bit far-fetched as an explanation, isn’t it? But then, just as you said, the two of them weren’t lying. Miss Harasawa really is being haunted by needles,” Takatsuki said. “Is it the curse of the straw doll, after all?” Naoya asked. “Yeah… In a way, I suppose you could say that.” Takatsuki’s reply was vague. Naoya wondered if the professor had already figured out what was going on. “Professor, what are you planning to do? An exorcism or something?” “I wonder. It seems we’re already at a point where we can’t just let things be. If we don’t do something—” But something interrupted him. “—Huh, oh no, hey, are you okay?!” Someone was shouting. Looking over at the barbecue area, they could see a girl crouching down, clutching her arm. The other students were gathered around her anxiously. Takatsuki murmured. “That’s…Miss Makimura.” “What, Makimura?!” Takatsuki immediately broke into a run toward her. Naoya followed. When they reached the table, it was indeed Kotoko they saw stooped low to the ground. Her left sleeve was rolled up to her shoulder. One glance at her was enough to see what was wrong—her left bicep was bright red and inflamed. “What happened? Did you get burned?” Takatsuki questioned her, but the one who answered was Ayane, who stood at Kotoko’s side, her face pale. “No. Kotoko suddenly grabbed her arm and looked like she was in pain… When I rolled up her sleeve, her arm was all red and swollen…!” “Let me take a look.” Takatsuki knelt beside Kotoko and took her arm. He leaned in close, examining the swollen area carefully—then, suddenly, he frowned. “P-Professor? What is it?” Ayane’s voice shook. Looking up at Ayane, Takatsuki gave her a smile. “Somehow or other, it seems Miss Makimura was stung by a bee.” Takatsuki’s voice warped. Startled, Naoya put his hands over his ears without thinking. Takatsuki had just told a lie. She hadn’t been stung by a bee. Or at least, Takatsuki didn’t think she had. But a slight sense of relief fell over the group of very anxious students surrounding them. Seeing that, Naoya remembered what Takatsuki had told him before, about people fearing the unexplained. A mysterious swelling was creepy and scary, but if it was chalked up to a simple bee-sting, the group was more likely to calm down and think, “A bee, huh?” Standing back up, Takatsuki looked around at the students. “They should have a first-aid kit in the management office over there, so I’ll take Miss Makimura over. The rest of you should start to clean up here.” At Takatsuki’s words, the group erupted into chatter—“What, seriously?” “Were there bees around here?”—and returned to their separate tables. Takatsuki used his hands to support Kotoko’s shoulders and help her stand, then he looked at Ayane. “Miss Harasawa, do you have a sewing kit on you?” “Huh? I do, but…” “Does it have tweezers in it?” “A small pair, but yes.” “Good. Then grab it and come with me. You too, Fukamachi.” They walked like that with Takatsuki supporting Kotoko—and Ayane and Naoya following behind. Takatsuki found a bench out of sight of the barbecue area and had Kotoko sit there. Ayane looked puzzled. “Huh, Professor, weren’t we going to go to the management office?” “Yes, we’re going. We’ll need to get this sterilized. But before that, I need to check something. Miss Harasawa, your tweezers, please.” Once again, Takatsuki reached for Kotoko’s arm. With his fingers, he pressed carefully against the inflamed skin. Kotoko screwed up her face, and something small could be seen pushing out of her skin. Using the tweezers, Takatsuki nimbly pulled out the object. It was a needle. A small silver sewing needle. As soon as she saw it, Kotoko let out a small moan. Her pale face crumpled, and her eyes filled with tears as the others looked on. At Naoya’s side, Ayane sank down hard in shock. Covering her mouth with trembling hands, she began to speak in a shrill voice. “Why…? Why Kotoko, too…?!” Kotoko looked at Ayane from her seat on the bench. “Aya…” On the verge of breaking down into tears, Kotoko reached out a hand toward her friend. Blood swelled up into a bead at the spot on her arm where Takatsuki had removed the needle. Before long, the bead of blood turned into a single trickling drop that flowed down her pale arm, reaching all the way to the hand she held outstretched toward Ayane. “Hey, Aya, what should I do…?” Ayane stared, trembling, at the blood dripping from Kotoko’s fingertips. Then, all at once, as if coming to her senses, she reached out and grabbed on to her friend’s hand. “Kotoko! Kotoko, it’s okay, it’s going to be all right… It’s okay…!” Knees shaking, Ayane stood, then sat down beside Kotoko on the bench. Like that, she wrapped her arms around the other girl and started to cry. Naoya watched them, feeling utterly baffled. The curse was spreading. And not just spreading. It was getting worse. It had started out with needles just falling around, and now people were getting hurt. What was Takatsuki thinking? Naoya wondered. How would he interpret this mystery? Naoya looked at the professor. Takatsuki was staring at the needle he had just extracted with great interest. He looked exactly like an entomologist who had obtained a precious specimen. Why does it look like he’s smiling? Naoya thought with a shiver. “P-Professor?” Without meaning to, he spoke up. Takatsuki looked at him. When he did, he was well and truly smiling. “Hey, Fukamachi. I know a story terribly similar to this one.” “What…?” Naoya’s eyes widened with surprise. Takatsuki carefully wrapped the sewing needle in a handkerchief and tucked it into his pocket before turning to kneel in front of the girls on the bench. He peered into their faces from up close, then spoke in a gentle voice. “Miss Harasawa. Miss Makimura. Somehow, the situation has become quite serious. We can’t let things go on like this. So let’s do an exorcism.” “E-exorcism?” “Would you be the one doing it, Professor…?” Ayane and Kotoko were blinking at him in surprise. Takatsuki smiled and nodded. “I’d like the two of you to come to my office tomorrow. Fukamachi, you come, too, okay?” When Naoya arrived at Takatsuki’s office the next day, Ayane and Kotoko were already there. Takatsuki was nowhere to be found. The girls, their faces tense, were sitting on folding chairs at the center table. White gauze was taped to Kotoko’s left arm. “…Come to think of it, why are you here?” Brow furrowing slightly, Ayane scowled at Naoya. Kotoko tugged at the edge of Ayane’s clothes, scolding her with an “Aya.” But Kotoko was also looking at Naoya with a little suspicion in her eyes. Well, as far as the two of them were concerned, Naoya was just an unrelated party who happened to be there when they asked Takatsuki for help. The night before, Naoya had received a call from Takatsuki. He wanted to talk about why Naoya would be present at the exorcism. Takatsuki had asked Naoya to tell him if the girls lied. “If you notice the two of them lying while I do the exorcism, I want you to give me a signal. Something as natural as possible; something they won’t notice. How about, if Miss Harasawa tells a lie, touch your right ear, and if Miss Makimura lies, touch your left ear?” But it wasn’t like Naoya could tell the girls that. He sat in a chair apart from them, in silence, feeling a bit uncomfortable. “Ah, sorry I’m late! Thank goodness, everyone is already here!” Right then, Takatsuki opened the office door and walked into the room. He looked over the three of them seated at the center table and smiled. “Well then, shall we begin? Can each of you take one of these, please?” As he said that, he handed the several sheets of paper he had been holding to Ayane, who was closest. Ayane frowned, looking doubtful. “Huh? What is this…? Are we not doing the exorcism?” “No, we are! That’s why I had you come here, after all.” Takatsuki was still smiling brightly. Looking at the paper Kotoko had passed him, Naoya also felt confused. It was just like the materials Takatsuki used in his lectures. It was an old story that seemed to have been copied from some book. “Right, starting now, I will be exorcizing Miss Harasawa and Miss Makimura.” After making that declaration, Takatsuki sat down in the chair across from Ayane and Kotoko. The girls looked at each other, baffled. There was nothing in the office that fit the image of an exorcism. Takatsuki was wearing a suit as usual, and the office was filled with the scent of old books. It was still summer vacation, so it was quiet on campus. In the silence, Takatsuki’s voice echoed softly. “Even though I say ‘exorcism,’ I’m not an exorcist, so I’m going to do this in the style of a lecture. This strange incident involving needles that’s happening to Miss Harasawa and Miss Makimura—there’s a similar story that appears in a book from the Edo period. That’s what’s on the materials I just handed you. The book is called Mikikigusa, and it was written by a man named Seishin Miyazaki. It contains accounts of incidents and disasters from that time period, as well as romantic and scary stories that Miyazaki collected. Among them is a story he recorded under the title ‘Mysterious Illness.’” The two girls, still looking perplexed, glanced down at the papers in their hands. However, the story copied to the papers seemed to have come straight from a book that was published during the Edo period, and because it hadn’t been printed, it was difficult to read. Takatsuki continued talking. “Well, I’ll have you read the materials thoroughly later, but I’ll give you a brief introduction as to what the story is about… A fourteen-year-old girl named Ume complained of pains all over her body. Then, when someone poked at a spot where it hurt, the tip of a needle popped out from under her skin.” Kotoko’s shoulders jolted. The exact same thing had happened to her only a day before. “Several needles were recovered from various parts of Ume’s body. The nape of her neck, her knees, vulva, solar plexus, and mixed in with the saliva from her mouth, as well. The symptoms began when Ume began apprenticing under a pharmacist named Matsuya. They attempted to treat her without success, and ultimately, she was sent home from her apprenticeship. She recovered after convalescing for a while at home, so the following year, she began a new apprenticeship, but her condition worsened soon after. When her mother was asked if she had any idea what might be causing the illness, she said that around the time Ume left to be Matsuya’s apprentice, a group of weasels ran all around Ume while she slept and urinated in great quantities beneath her futon, and maybe that was the source. She also said it could have been the work of another trickster spirit, like a fox or a tanuki. Of course, from a modern perspective, the mother’s answer is nonsense. Needles coming out of someone’s body has nothing to do with the existence of foxes, tanuki, or weasel spirits. But at the time, that explanation was plausible. In those days, it was common for people to think strange illnesses were caused by being possessed by foxes. That was their interpretation of the situation.” Come to think of it, Takatsuki had told Naoya once that the unexplained was made up of two things: phenomenon and interpretation. People in the past interpreted the phenomenon of needles coming out of the body as a strange consequence of foxes and tanuki making mischief. That was as good an explanation as any, for people without a sufficient knowledge of science or medicine. “But…we’re not possessed by foxes or tanuki or weasels.” Ayane spoke up. “This is Tokyo. There aren’t any animals like that here, Professor. What are we supposed to be getting from this story?” She glared sharply at Takatsuki. “Aya,” Kotoko said, tugging on her friend’s clothes again. “Well, tanuki and weasels are found even in Tokyo, you know. But what you’re saying is understandable, Miss Harasawa. We have to approach this mystery with a modern interpretation.” Not at all perturbed by Ayane’s scowl, Takatsuki kept smiling. “A mysterious condition where needles come out of the body. A condition that only surfaces when the sufferer is living as an apprentice—and that goes away when she returns home. A normal interpretation would postulate that this is a case of cruel mistreatment. Perhaps the fellow apprentices, or else the lord or lady of the house, stuck needles into the body of the new apprentice girl as a form of punishment. That would be a reasonable assessment… But I think there’s another possibility.” “What is it?” “I think it’s possible that Ume stabbed the needles into her own body.” At Takatsuki’s words, the two girls stiffened up. Takatsuki was still smiling. Even though what he was saying was horribly gruesome, his radiant smile didn’t budge. “The reason being: Ume was sent home from her apprenticeship thanks to her mysterious condition. When she recovered and was once again sent off to work, the same condition resurfaced, and again she was sent home. It’s quite reasonable to speculate that Ume stabbed herself with the needles because she wanted to go home. Maybe she couldn’t adapt to her apprenticeship, or maybe she was being bullied. Perhaps she just wanted sympathy from those around her. Whatever the reason, I can’t rule out the possibility that a desperate fourteen-year-old girl would take a needle from a sewing kit and either swallow it or stab herself with it.” There was a small crinkling sound. Ayane was gripping the edge of the paper Takatsuki had handed out. The paper was crumpled in her grasp. “…In other words, Professor, you’re saying we did this to ourselves?” “Yes. That’s exactly right.” Takatsuki nodded. Immediately, Ayane’s cheeks flushed crimson. Beneath her tightly drawn brows, her strong-willed eyes were glaring furiously at Takatsuki. “How cruel. Kotoko and I have both been injured. How could you say such a horrible thing, Professor?!” “Naturally, I don’t think all of it was self-inflicted. But at the very least, this isn’t a straw doll curse.” As he spoke, Takatsuki placed a single photo on the table. It was the picture Ayane had submitted with her report. It was dark and hard to make out, but it was just possible to see the dim image in the center of a straw doll with nails and needles stuck into it. Takatsuki pointed at the straw doll. “Because this photo…is a fake.” Ayane’s eyes widened dramatically at his frank assertion. In an instant, the blood drained from her scarlet cheeks. Takatsuki continued in a calm tone. “You bought this doll yourself and stuck it with nails and needles, right? And the story that you saw it in Hibiya Park was also a lie, wasn’t it?” “It… It wasn’t a lie!” Ayane’s screaming voice distorted violently. Naoya grimaced and touched his right ear. If Ayane tells a lie, touch the right ear. That was the signal for Takatsuki. Takatsuki glanced at Naoya before carrying on. “If it’s not a lie, can you tell me where in the park you saw it? You said you were heading home from a concert at the time. What concert did you see?” “That’s… I don’t remember anymore! It was ages ago! And the park is big; I don’t remember exactly where!” Her voice was still extremely warped. Everything she was saying was a lie. Naoya continued to touch his right ear, wondering what was going on. The straw doll story was a lie. He asked himself why he hadn’t realized that before, but then he soon understood. When he first heard the story, it wasn’t Ayane who had recounted it. It was Takatsuki. Naoya could only discern lies when they came directly from the source. If Ayane had told the story herself, he would have known, but he couldn’t tell if the contents of a story were untruthful just from someone else reading it aloud. “Can I tell you my honest impression of this picture from when I first saw it? It was, ‘Oh, this is a fake.’ First of all, it’s done incorrectly, using both nails and needles to pierce the doll. Today we have computers at hand to look up anything we want, so if you really wanted to curse someone, ordinarily you would look up the proper method. Also, a shrine somewhere would have been fine, but as a location, Hibiya Park is pretty careless. The real kicker is that this doesn’t look like it’s been nailed to a tree. You might have thought I wouldn’t be able to tell because the background was darkened, but it looks like it was placed on the ground. Although it’s not like I analyzed the image or anything, so I can’t confirm that.” Takatsuki had been suspecting Ayane’s story was fake ever since she had submitted the photo along with her report. Thinking it over, if Takatsuki had believed the straw doll story, he probably would have called Ayane to his office just as he had Naoya. Also, looking back on when they had first heard the story in Yanaka, Takatsuki hadn’t seemed all that keen on straw dolls. It made sense, if he thought it was all a hoax. “This kind of thing is Miss Ruiko’s specialty, so I had her read Miss Harasawa’s report. She came to the same conclusion, that it was just a made-up story. Nevertheless, I had her do some research for me for the time being. She scoured the internet to see if there were any other stories of people seeing straw dolls at Hibiya Park—and even went with me to the site to investigate. But our conclusions didn’t change. There were no other eyewitness accounts aside from Miss Harasawa’s, and there were no traces of anything at the site. Moreover—you said it yourself in Yanaka, didn’t you? ‘It’s like all the needles from the doll are coming back to me…’ ‘Coming back’ only makes sense to say if you’re the person who stuck the needles in the doll.” Ayane didn’t reply. Her face was bright red again, and she was glowering at Takatsuki. It seemed Takatsuki was correct. Who knew if she wanted the extra credit, or to get Takatsuki’s attention, or if it was just a simple prank? Regardless, she had really made herself a nuisance. But suddenly, Naoya frowned. Just a little while ago, Takatsuki had said “…I don’t think all of it was self-inflicted.” Which meant… “Now, let’s get back to talking about needles instead of straw dolls, okay? From the beginning, it wasn’t the doll that interested me, it was this.” Again as he spoke, Takatsuki placed something on the table. It was a small plastic bag with two needles inside. They seemed to be the broken needle that Ayane had spit out and the one that came from Kotoko’s arm. “After submitting her report on the straw doll, Miss Harasawa began to experience needles falling from all around her body. This matter isn’t related to the straw doll, but you could say it was inspired by it. The common thread is, yes, needles.” Takatsuki picked up the plastic bag with his fingers. Inside the bag, the needles shifted as if to show off their sharp points. “Miss Ruiko said it herself that day in the café. ‘Ordinarily, I’d say this is someone harassing you…’ Since the straw doll wasn’t genuine, of course this mystery would be a hoax as well. And when it comes to people near Miss Harasawa who have a connection to needles, well… There’s only one person who comes to mind, isn’t there?” Takatsuki smiled and pointedly tilted his head. The person he had turned his gaze on—was Kotoko. Ayane turned her piercing gaze on the other girl. Kotoko said nothing. She just kept looking straight up at Takatsuki. Takatsuki went on. “Both of you were in the crafting club, right? And when Miss Harasawa cooked up the straw doll idea, you were with her, weren’t you, Miss Makimura? Because you’re always together. Maybe you even stabbed it with needles together. Miss Harasawa was just playing around, making a fake straw doll, taking its picture, making the picture her phone background, and at her side—Miss Makimura, what were you thinking?” Takatsuki’s eyes bored into Kotoko. Ayane’s gaze was fixed on her as well. Suddenly, Kotoko let out a small “Heh.” She looked like she was laughing. “I mean… Aya doesn’t listen to me even if I tell her she shouldn’t do something.” Her tone didn’t change at all. Her voice was gentle, mild-mannered, sweet. But her facial expression had changed completely. For a girl like Kotoko to have eyes that looked like that… Staring at her, Naoya felt fear. There was sweet poison in her gaze. She started to speak. “Straw dolls are for cursing people, right? I didn’t think it was right to fool around with one. So I thought maybe it would be good for her to have a bit of a scare, just a little one. It’s like you said, Professor. After Aya stood up, I would secretly scatter pins on her chair, then I would say something. Like, ‘Aya, there are needles everywhere. What’s going on?’ It was only supposed to be a little prank. Ah-ha.” Kotoko laughed a little as if remembering. Ayane’s expression hardened. Narrowing her eyes at her friend, Kotoko continued talking. “But, Aya, you looked so bewildered. Even though you had fun making a straw doll yourself, you can be surprisingly cowardly at times. So I said, ‘Oh no, maybe the needles you stabbed into the straw doll are coming back for you. You really shouldn’t have done something like that as a game.’” Kotoko’s voice didn’t warp in the slightest. She really had said those things to Ayane. She truly did act like the needles she had planted herself were the consequence of the straw doll’s curse. “Ah—that is precisely what a curse is.” Takatsuki picked up the photograph of the straw doll again. “Straw dolls are used to cast curses. It’s wrong to use them as toys. That knowledge is deeply rooted in most Japanese people. That’s why people feel like they’ve done something taboo after playing around with such things or just dabbling in them. Miss Makimura struck on that feeling within Miss Harasawa. Her words turned the fake straw doll into a real one. Miss Harasawa believed her, and the curse became a reality. She interpreted the phenomenon of needles appearing around her as the result of the straw doll’s curse.” The unexplained was made up of two things: phenomenon and interpretation. Unexplained phenomena are frightening. People are afraid of what they don’t understand. That’s why they interpret their realities. Kotoko had guided Ayane toward a misleading interpretation. If, at the time, she had said, “Maybe someone is bullying you?” even Ayane wouldn’t have thought she was cursed. “But, Miss Makimura,” Takatsuki said. “Why didn’t you stop scattering needles around your friend? If you only wanted to scare her a little, surely doing it a few times would have been plenty.” Kotoko went back to being silent. Takatsuki narrowed his eyes slightly. His gaze casually swept over to Naoya. Keeping his eyes on Naoya, Takatsuki continued to direct his words at Kotoko. “Maybe you felt good seeing Miss Harasawa scared? I wonder if you would say the relationship between you is always equal. Is Miss Harasawa, who can be a bit pushy, the slightly superior one? Or maybe it has something to do with Miss Harasawa getting a boyfriend?” “You’re wrong.” At that point, Kotoko’s voice started to distort. Naoya touched his left ear. He saw Takatsuki stop speaking for a moment and take a small breath. Once more, the professor fixed his gaze on Kotoko. “Miss Makimura. You and Miss Harasawa were always together. Always together—and very close. But when you entered university, Miss Harasawa got a boyfriend. Your relationship with her was deteriorating. You couldn’t let that happen, right?” “You’re wrong.” Face stiff, Kotoko shook her head. As before, her denial twisted and warped. “I expect needles are familiar and very memorable objects to the two of you. You were in the crafting club together for all that time. The straw doll was probably what got you thinking about leaving needles around Miss Harasawa. But within that, I suspect, was the message, ‘Don’t forget about me.’” “You’re wrong!” Kotoko’s third denial tore at Naoya’s eardrums with a metallic screech. Naoya kept his hand pressed to his left ear as his face twisted. As he did, he thought about the feelings of the girl who had strewn needles around her best friend. He imagined what it felt like to Kotoko when she couldn’t help but curse her closest friend, who she was supposed to love. They were so close that she had changed her own future plans so they could go to the same college. So close that everyone around them thought: Ayane must have Kotoko, and Kotoko must have Ayane. It was like their own little paradise. A world no one else could enter, a happy place with just the two of them. Kotoko might have thought that would continue forever. But things changed when they left their all-girls high school and went to a coed university. Ayane got a boyfriend. Another living person—one of a different gender, no less—came into what should have been their private paradise. Out loud, Kotoko had almost certainly said, “How nice.” Maybe even, “I’m so glad you got such a cool boyfriend.” Ayane’s boyfriend was a kind upperclassman. He even looked out for Kotoko’s feelings and invited her to join them on a date. What was Kotoko really feeling during that date? Was she concealing needles in her hand, waiting to scatter them in a chair after Ayane stood up—or onto her skirt? Small needles wouldn’t hurt someone seriously. But with their sharp points, they certainly could make someone feel threatened. Don’t forget. You’re mine forever. Don’t leave me behind. We’re supposed to be together forever. If Kotoko really had been thinking those things while she sowed her needles, then it was definitely a curse. Her own special incantation to keep Ayane at her side. “However, Miss Harasawa is no fool. It didn’t take her long to realize that the needles were Miss Makimura’s doing,” Takatsuki said. Kotoko’s shoulders jolted, and she turned to look at her friend. Ayane was wearing a somewhat exasperated expression. “…It was so obvious; of course I would notice.” Her voice was low. “I mean, the needles only appeared when I was with Kotoko. They never did when I was by myself.” “Aya… Then…at the café—the time in Yanaka…” Kotoko’s voice was trembling. Ayane nodded. “Yes. I put the needle in the cake at the café in Yanaka. I put it in my own cake.” Her confession came out in a rush. Her voice didn’t distort at all. “Right. That was the day this story got complicated,” Takatsuki declared. That day, a chance encounter between Takatsuki and the girls changed the situation. Having caught on to Kotoko’s actions, instead of telling her directly to cut it out, Ayane had the idea to get Takatsuki involved. “It caused trouble for the café, so I can’t condone what you did, but, well… Your approach was rather original and interesting, Miss Harasawa. By consulting me, you could label the story of the needles as a mere mystery. You tried to make it the straw doll’s curse, rather than Miss Makimura’s work. In doing so, you were, for the time being, protecting her.” When Takatsuki said “protecting,” Kotoko glanced at Ayane again. Ayane didn’t return her gaze, but she also didn’t refute Takatsuki’s claim. “And then, to top it off, you ate the needle yourself. It’s the kind of act that makes you wonder how someone could do it, but Miss Harasawa must have felt like she had no choice. You’re the kind of person who speaks her mind. But even so, you couldn’t tell Miss Makimura ‘stop’ to her face. Rather than accuse and reproach your friend, you chose to make yourself bleed. You probably thought it would shock Miss Makimura into stopping… And in fact, Miss Makimura did receive a shock. Why had a needle come out of Miss Harasawa’s cake, when she hadn’t put it there herself? It must have been quite a surprise.” Kotoko’s fear and confusion when she saw Ayane spit out the needle had been real. She had looked as though she had seen a ghost. “Of course, later, Miss Makimura also realized it had been Miss Harasawa’s own doing. But at that point, the story became a very serious matter. Miss Harasawa had gotten me involved and spat out a needle in front of several other people, so it was no longer something that could end as nothing but a minor prank.” Ayane’s actions had driven Kotoko into a corner. By putting the needle in her own mouth, she had called out Kotoko. But Kotoko had probably thought she was the only one who realized the message behind that incident. Because at the time, the tide of events was flowing entirely toward the idea of the straw doll’s curse. “And so Miss Makimura decided to take advantage of the barbecue party I held. Just like Miss Harasawa, in front of other people, to show her friend that she herself had been cursed by needles—she inserted the needle into her own body, to settle everything as the fault of the curse.” After Takatsuki had extracted the needle, Kotoko had said, “…What should I do…?” There hadn’t been any distortion in her voice. She really hadn’t known what to do anymore. She stabbed her own body with the needle. What on earth had that felt like? To want to do something about the circumstances in front of her, but not be able to think of any other way? Ayane and Kotoko both took up needles and harmed themselves. Ah, Naoya thought. It was just as Takatsuki had said. Ume in Mikikigusa. If she had stuck the needles into her own body, perhaps she had felt the same way these two girls did. Unable to express herself honestly to the people around her, she stabbed herself with small, thin, sharp needles, hoping it would change something. Some who saw it would say she had a mysterious illness. Some would say she was cursed. Some kind of divine punishment. But the truth—the reality might have been something like this. “…Aya,” Kotoko said. Ayane stared at her. Kotoko’s mouth snapped shut, as if intimidated by her friend’s blank gaze. Withdrawing the shaking hand she had stretched toward Ayane, Kotoko hung her head. One at a time, large teardrops welled up in her eyes and fell. Seeing that, for a moment, Ayane’s face faltered. Head still bowed, Kotoko spoke. “I’m sorry, Aya… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… I did something stupid. I’m really sorry…” “You really are a dummy,” Ayane whispered. Kotoko’s shoulders shook in surprise. But Ayane reached for her trembling shoulders and held them. “You should have just told me if you didn’t like Takasu. You’re so stupid, dummy… But it’s okay now.” Ayane hugged Kotoko as she talked. “You like me so much that you thought of all that.” “Aya…” In Ayane’s arms, Kotoko lifted her head and started to sob. Ayane laughed, gently patting Kotoko’s hair. “It’s all right. I forgive you, Kotoko.” Ayane’s voice warped violently as she peered into Kotoko’s face. Naoya shuddered and, without thinking, pressed his hands to his ears. “…Fukamachi?” Takatsuki was looking at Naoya. Unable to answer, Naoya stared at the two girls, dumbfounded. They were hugging, their arms wrapped around one another’s backs. “No, Aya. I’m the one who was wrong. You didn’t do anything.” “That’s not true. I think I’m at fault here. I neglected you.” “Let’s be friends forever, okay? I’ll never do anything to hurt you again.” “Of course. We’ll always, always be friends…” Their exchanged promises warped into a chaotic dissonance. I don’t blame you at all. It was my fault. We’ll be friends forever. They lied, over and over and over. Naoya felt dizzy. Nothing they were saying was true. Nothing was actually resolved. But the two of them held one another like they were acting out a passionate movie scene, spitting up nothing but sweet, gentle lines back and forth. In twisted voices that sounded like the warbling cacophony a broken record player would produce. It was awful. Nauseating. The warping voices penetrated Naoya’s eardrums. It felt like they were assaulting his brain, making it churn wildly. He couldn’t stop shaking. Stop it. Don’t make me listen to your vulgar voices. I don’t want to see for myself just how foul human beings are, that they can lie as easily as they breathe. Naoya covered his ears with both hands and looked down. He could hear Takatsuki calling his name, but his head was so heavy that he couldn’t look up. He felt so terrible. Bit by bit, his consciousness was slipping away. He felt someone put a hand on his shoulder. Takatsuki’s voice was in his ear. “Fukamachi, are you all right?” Those words—in that clear, beautiful voice—were all he could hear. He tried to maintain consciousness by clinging to that voice, but it was no use. Naoya felt his body slump over as his consciousness tumbled down into the bottomless dark. When he came to, Naoya found himself lying on a rudimentary couch made from several folding chairs pushed together. When he tried to get up, he heard Takatsuki’s voice. “Don’t get up yet. You should lie down a little longer.” Nevertheless, Naoya managed to sit up, causing a damp handkerchief to fall from his forehead. It probably belonged to Takatsuki. Naoya’s glasses had been removed and placed on the table. Takatsuki was sitting on the edge of the table, looking down at Naoya worriedly. Ayane and Kotoko were no longer in the office. “You collapsed suddenly, and it surprised them. But for now, you and I have done all we can for them, so I sent them home.” As he spoke, Takatsuki held out a small plastic bottle that had been left beside him. It was mineral water. “Drink it if you feel up to it. I think it’ll make you feel a bit better.” The bottle was well chilled and covered in condensation. It looked like it had been bought from a vending machine. Naoya gratefully accepted it and took a drink. “I’m sorry, Fukamachi.” Out of nowhere, Takatsuki apologized to him. Naoya stared back at his professor. His vision wasn’t that bad, even without his glasses. In truth, his glasses weren’t even that strong. He only wore them because, for some reason, he wanted to view the world through glass. Takatsuki looked at Naoya with his eyebrows lowered and a truly remorseful expression. If he had been a dog, his ears might have drooped. “I’m sorry for pushing you so hard. But I really needed you for today’s ‘exorcism.’ That power of yours, to recognize lies.” “…Why?” “Because those girls needed the truth,” Takatsuki said. He continued. “Their curse came from not being able to tell each other the truth. So they needed the truth forced upon them… Somehow, I was able to guess what was happening to the two of them, but it was still just a guess. It wasn’t fact. I can be ignorant about other people’s feelings, and I couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t make an error in that situation. I knew that even if I proceeded with the story, if my assumptions were incorrect, those girls would never open up.” That’s why he had chosen his words while looking at Ayane’s and Kotoko’s reactions and comparing them to how Naoya responded to that. So he could confirm and reinforce his guesses. “But I didn’t realize lie detecting would be such a burden on you… Hey, Fukamachi, I’m sorry if I’m wrong, but I think it’s about time I know the truth about you, too.” He leaned toward Naoya just a little. “In actuality, you… It’s not people’s mannerisms or words, is it? You can tell when someone is lying just from hearing their voice, right?” Ah, Naoya thought, hearing that, I’ve been found out. He must have been exposed ages ago. There was no way this perceptive man hadn’t figured it out. So Naoya gave a small nod. “I see; so that was it,” Takatsuki muttered. “How does it work? Hearing the lies, I mean,” he asked. “The voice sounds…warped. Like some chaotic sound filter has been put over it. That’s why it feels awful to listen to.” “I see. But you weren’t born like this, were you? Something must have triggered it. Or so I assume.” Takatsuki’s tone as he questioned Naoya was soft, gentle, and kind. His concern was clear in his voice. Naoya went silent for a moment. He could feel something rising in his throat. Something painful and warm blocking up his throat and chest. He knew he was about to cry. It was all the fault of Takatsuki’s gentle voice. He wanted to entrust everything to that voice. “The night of the festival, when I was ten.” When he opened his mouth, the words poured out automatically. It was like blood starting to pour from a wound, and there was no longer anything Naoya could do to stop it. “The one I wrote about in my report. That festival. It all started then.” “Yes, I’m listening. Tell me everything.” Takatsuki nodded. Naoya spoke. About the day he couldn’t go to the festival because he had a fever. About hearing the thundering of the drums in the middle of the night. About running alone to the festival grounds where everyone was dancing. Everything, even what he hadn’t written in his report. “When I was watching the festival dance, someone grabbed me by the shoulder. When I turned around, I saw a man in a fire-breathing jester mask… He said, ‘…What are you doing here?’ and ‘You shouldn’t be here…’ It was…my grandfather’s voice.” It was his grandfather. Even with his face covered by a mask, Naoya had known right away. The grandfather he loved so much. “My grandfather had died the year before that.” It was exactly as Takatsuki had said. That festival was for the dead. The attendees were likely all spirits of the deceased. Even though Naoya was alive, he had slipped in among them. Even though he shouldn’t have. That’s why he was made to pay a price. Most likely, if he hadn’t paid, he wouldn’t have been allowed to leave. “I was taken to a stall and told to choose a sweet. There was a candied apple, a candied plum, and an amber-colored lollipop.” Then his grandfather had told him— If you choose the apple, you won’t be able to walk. If you choose the plum, you’ll lose your words. And if you choose the lollipop— “‘If you choose the lollipop, you will be lonely.’ That’s what my grandfather said.” “Lonely…?” “Yes. I didn’t really understand what he meant. I thought ‘loneliness’ meant no more than being by oneself. That’s why I chose the lollipop right away. I was afraid of not being able to walk or talk. I had to eat the lollipop right then and there. I don’t remember anything after that. When I woke up, I was back in my futon.” From that point on, all lies sounded incredibly warped to Naoya. Maybe if he had picked a different sweet, he would have developed some other power. Instead of being unable to walk or talk, a different ability may have come forth. But there was no way it would have been something good. Because his ability was a punishment for his crime. The crime of trespassing in the festival of the dead as a living person. That kind of price couldn’t be something insignificant. “People lie so much. And they hate it when you point that out… I was still a kid… I didn’t really understand that. When I noticed someone lying, I would say, ‘You just told a lie.’” None of the people whose lies he exposed were understanding. Instead, they would scold him, saying, “Don’t be ridiculous.” Some of them would even turn it around on him and say he was the one who was lying. And as time went on, gradually, everyone distanced themselves from Naoya. “You give me the creeps,” they would hurl at him. He stopped liking sweet things after that. Every time he recalled the sweet flavor of that amber-colored lollipop melting over his tongue, he was hit with a rush of regret. Countless times he wished he had not gone to that festival. “The worst incident was with my parents… When I was a first-year in middle school, my father was having an affair. He would say he was going on a business trip, but he would really be meeting up with another woman. I think my mother had known for a while, although she never openly accused him. Then one day, when my father said, ‘I’m leaving for a business trip tomorrow’…without thinking, I said, ‘Liar.’” Naoya would never forget the looks on his parents’ faces at that moment. Their eyes opened wide, their faces stiff and twisted as they stared at him. At that moment, they knew, too. They knew Naoya could hear when someone was lying. With a single word, Naoya had made his father’s affair, which his mother had been pretending she didn’t see, into something real. He destroyed his father’s lie in an instant. “…It’s not like they got divorced or anything like that after. Their relationship was a mess for a while, though. At least they managed to maintain the appearance of being a family… But—” The words stuck in his throat. Naoya took another drink from the plastic bottle. Takatsuki was listening intently. Naoya continued. “But instead, both of them stopped speaking in front of me…almost entirely.” Their son who could expose any lie. He wondered what his parents felt when they realized that. If they told a lie, their son would cover his ears in disgust. With that, whoever they were talking to would also know they were lying. Everything would’ve been fine if they just didn’t tell lies. There would’ve been no problem. But human beings are liars. They spew lies without even really being conscious of it. Living without lying was difficult—so there was no choice but to speak as little as possible in front of their son, who could tell when they were lying. That’s probably what his parents had thought. That was why Naoya wanted to leave his parents’ house as soon as he could. No wonder his parents let him move out without a fuss. With a son like him in the house, how could they feel at ease? “I get it now, what my grandfather meant when he said I would be lonely. No one wants to be around me knowing I can tell when they’re lying. Not even my parents.” If that’s how things were going to be, Naoya thought he would be better by himself. He listened to music so he wouldn’t have to hear anything unpleasant. Wore glasses to keep the world on the other side of his glass field of vision. Built a wall around himself that said DO NOT ENTER. Allowed no one else to come inside and, in return, didn’t let himself leave, either. “I also don’t—especially don’t—want to hear the voice of a liar. I don’t want to be around someone who lies. It’s awful, having to keep hearing those distorted voices… Having someone whose lies I exposed look at me as if I were a monster, it’s…” If you choose that one, you will be lonely. That was how it was. That was exactly how things had turned out. His vision blurred, and Naoya wiped at the corners of his eyes roughly. Pathetic. A college student on the verge of tears. But he couldn’t stop. It was the first time he had ever told anyone the whole story. He had probably always wanted to talk about it. Wanted someone to listen so badly he could barely stand it. Someone who would take him seriously. Someone who would believe him. “Here, a handkerchief. It’s damp, but use it.” Takatsuki spoke up. At the same time, a large hand patted Naoya on the head. “Thank you for telling me… I’m glad I was finally able to hear your story.” Naoya dabbed at his tears with the handkerchief that had been on his forehead only a short while ago. He still couldn’t stop crying. “I don’t have ears that can hear lies like yours do, Fukamachi… But I think everything you told me was the truth. I believe you.” His voice was clear and undistorted. “I’ve been wondering about you for a while. You’re alone most of the time. I noticed you in class and around campus. I wondered at first if you couldn’t be bothered with others—or didn’t like people in general. But when I actually spoke to you, you were unexpectedly kind. Caring, too. But I got the feeling you were deliberately taking care to get involved with others as little as possible. So…this is the reason.” His large hand gently stroked Naoya’s head. I’m not a child; you don’t have to do that, Naoya thought. But even so, for some reason, it didn’t occur to him to brush the hand away. “Fukamachi, if it bothers you, I swear I will never lie in front of you. So can I ask you for one thing in exchange?” “…What is it?” “I want you to stay by my side from now on.” Naoya looked up at him. He blinked slowly, staring at Takatsuki. Eyes the color of the night sky were calmly looking back at him. A genuine night sky, one that Naoya thought he could even see the twinkling of stars in, if only he looked hard enough. Deep, alluring, endless night. Who was this man, really? Questions sprang up in his chest, completely out of place. What did the world look like, reflected in those eyes that held the night? What do I look like to him? Naoya wondered. “…Doesn’t it disgust you? What I can do.” He repeated the question he had asked once before. With a small pfft, a smile appeared on Takatsuki’s lips. It was a rueful smile, completely different from the bright one he usually wore. “If someone is disgusted by you, I’m sure they would be disgusted by me as well, you know.” “Huh…?” Before Naoya could ask what that meant, Takatsuki spoke again. “Hey, Fukamachi. Someday, let’s figure out what happened to you. Together!” His tone was back to being excited and full of curiosity. His eyes returned to being brown, and his smile shone once more like a clear, sunny day. As he spoke, he leaned toward Naoya, swinging his legs back and forth like a child. “I don’t know if your ears will ever return to normal, but let’s find out what that festival you went to really was. For that reason also, I definitely want you to stay by my side! Is that okay? It’s okay, right?” Momentarily taken aback, Naoya blinked again. A tear that had clung to one of his eyelashes fell at last. Ah, he really is this kind of person, Naoya thought. He didn’t know him well at all, but… Even so, that golden-retriever-like smile—Takatsuki’s smiling face, which Naoya was so acquainted with—there was no mistaking it. “…If you go to that festival, you’ll have to pay the price, too, Professor.” Takatsuki replied, his smile crinkling at the corners. “That’s fine. If it happens, I’ll choose something different than you did.” “It would be better if you didn’t choose one at all, though.” A smile surfaced on Naoya’s face as well. He had a feeling that Takatsuki really would be able to figure it out someday. He’d uncover the truth of everything that happened that night. Naoya grabbed his glasses from the table and put them on. He thought about returning the handkerchief to Takatsuki but decided to hold off. “Um… I’ll wash this and return it.” “Oh, it’s fine. You don’t have to do that.” Takatsuki held out his hand, but Naoya put the handkerchief in his pocket. He was pretty sure he had also gotten snot on it while he was wiping his tears. “But I guess I can’t use you as a lie detector anymore, can I? I didn’t know it would be that painful. I made a mistake there; I’m sorry.” “…No, it’s fine; I’m not mad. I’ll be okay if it’s only every now and then.” As he replied, Naoya realized the materials Takatsuki had prepared were still on the table. The girls hadn’t taken the papers with them. Well, he hadn’t really expected them to anyway. “…What will those two do from now on?” Hearing Naoya murmur while he was picking up the materials, Takatsuki turned to look over his shoulder. “What do you mean?” “I mean, they were just lying back and forth to each other. Even a statement like ‘We’ll always, always be friends…’ was a lie. I wonder if they really can keep being friends from now on.” “Well now…who can say?” Takatsuki made a neat stack of the papers he had gathered. “They may well be able to continue getting along just fine like that, surprisingly enough. Women are generally more complex than you or I. Even if things don’t go as perfectly as they have until now, they might be able to be fairly close as friends.” “Do you really think so?” “Yep. At the very least, they still had enough heart to worry about each other.” “Even though they lied?” “Because they lied.” Naoya’s head cocked to the side in confusion. He didn’t really understand what his professor was saying. Takatsuki slid the papers between folders on his shelves. “You know, Fukamachi… I think there’s such a thing as a necessary lie.” “A necessary lie?” “Yes. A lie told for the other person’s sake.” Takatsuki smiled broadly. “For example, let’s say a mother with a small child catches a cold. She has a fever and feels awful. Naturally, her child will anxiously ask her, ‘Mama, are you okay?’ The mother in that situation would probably answer, ‘I’m fine.’ Even if her fever is actually over a hundred, and she’s not fine at all, she wouldn’t want to make her child worry.” Surely that wasn’t true. It wouldn’t really happen. But he understood what Takatsuki was saying, more or less. “I think it’s the same with those two. They could have ended things by hurling insults at each other. But if they had, they would have hurt themselves as well as each other. To keep things as peaceful as possible and to avoid hurting one another, they deliberately lied.” That was Takatsuki’s interpretation. After hearing that everything the girls had said then was a lie, this rationalization of Takatsuki’s was the result. Whether it was true, Naoya didn’t know. But, he thought, it wasn’t a bad way to interpret things. Takatsuki had told him before that the important thing was how one interpreted a phenomenon. If that was true, it might not hurt to try believing in Takatsuki’s interpretation. It felt a lot better than the alternative: believing that the two of them came to the worst conclusion after leaving. “Fukamachi. I have to attend to something at the registrar’s office for a little while, but please rest here a bit longer. When you feel better, feel free to go home. Don’t worry about locking up. I’ll do it later.” That said, Takatsuki left Naoya in his office and went out. He was feeling a lot better, but Naoya appreciated the invitation to keep resting, so he decided to do that. Takatsuki’s lab, with its used-bookstore smell, was comfortable and quiet. He lay back down on the makeshift folding chair couch and closed his eyes. For a little while, he slept. He woke with a start to the sound of the door clanging open. Confused, he sat up. He wondered if Takatsuki had come back, but it was Ruiko who was looking back at him. She had her glasses on today, instead of contacts. “Oh, Fukamachi, you’re here? What’s wrong? Are you sick?” “…Yeah, sort of… I was dizzy. Professor Takatsuki told me to rest.” “I see. I’m sorry, did I wake you up? Professor Akira said that case with the two girls would be settled today, and I was curious, so I came. It’s already over, isn’t it?” “Yeah.” “How did it turn out? Was it a knockdown, drag-out deal?” “No, I feel like things ended peacefully…I guess.” “Is that so? Well, I thought it might go in that direction, you know. Professor Akira is a kind person, after all.” Ruiko turned to face the bookshelves. She ran her finger along the spines of the books and pulled out a few. Apparently, she had also come to borrow materials. Naoya nodded in response to her statement. “He really is a kind person… Professor Takatsuki, I mean.” He had a feeling there had been a high chance of things ending differently between Ayane and Kotoko. The girls had ended up worrying about one another, even if they were lying, but it wouldn’t have been unexpected if, as Ruiko had said, things had devolved into a fistfight. Takatsuki had chosen his words carefully and guided the two of them to avoid that outcome. He pointed out that Ayane had protected Kotoko and said they were both feeling cornered. Naoya wondered if he himself had been helpful to Takatsuki. In the end, he had collapsed, but even so, if Takatsuki was able to successfully make use of his ability for his “exorcism,” then, well. That was something to be happy about, just a little. Because it seemed as though his ears, which had only ever caused him grief, could be used for something good. “Absolutely, Professor Akira is so kind. He’s like an angel… Or rather, he might actually be an angel.” Ruiko murmured those words in earnest, with the books she had picked out clutched to her chest. Naoya almost burst into laughter. “What, an angel…? Miss Ruiko, you’re surprisingly romantic, aren’t you?” “I am not! I didn’t mean it like that, I just—I mean, I saw it, once.” “Huh? Saw what? Not wings, right?” Naoya smiled sarcastically. Ruiko started to reply, then closed her mouth. She looked around, then even stuck her head out the door to make sure no one was in the hallway before coming back. Just as Takatsuki had done a short while before, she perched on the edge of the table. Pushing up her glasses, she spoke as if she were about to reveal the world’s biggest secret. “…Listen. This absolutely cannot leave this room.” “Wh-what is it?” “Once…I saw Professor Akira’s back.” “H-his back? When would you have seen that?” “I-it’s not like I was undressing him or anything! We went to a research seminar together last year and got caught in a downpour!” Ruiko had turned bright red. She might really be a secret romantic. “Neither of us had an umbrella, and we got soaked. And it was summer, so I wasn’t wearing anything over my blouse, and it became see-through… Professor Akira noticed right away. He took off his own jacket and let me wear it. Because he’s a gentleman!” The rain had come down hard that day, and Takatsuki’s white button-down was soaked through. Enough for his skin to be visible through his wet shirt. That’s when Ruiko saw it, she said. Saw them. Two huge scars on Takatsuki’s back. Scars spread wide over both sides of his broad back, starting at his shoulder blades and ending near his hip bones. “It was like he had…wings, but they got ripped off.” That’s why, Ruiko said, with an earnest expression, Takatsuki might be an angel who fell from the sky.