Chapter 7

A week passed. Naoya was sitting in the backseat of a car along with the bag he had packed with changes of clothes and so on. The car’s heating worked well, making it a bit stuffy inside. Naoya took off his scarf and gloves and sat back as the vehicle continued smoothly down the highway. “Miss Ruiko told me her parents are both from Tokyo, but three years ago, they decided to quit their regular jobs, buy an old property in Yamanashi, and turn it into a bed-and-breakfast! I guess they won some money on a lottery ticket, and that kicked things off. Isn’t that amazing? Miss Ruiko has been there helping out since last weekend, so we’ll get to see her once we’re there.” Looking back over his shoulder from the front seat, Takatsuki spoke with enthusiasm. The car was headed for the bed-and-breakfast that Ruiko’s parents owned. Two days prior, Naoya had gotten a call from Takatsuki, asking if he wanted to come along. “Miss Ruiko said there’s a cave dedicated to a demon nearby. She’s been there once and thought it had a great atmosphere. I definitely want to take the chance to check it out. Why don’t you join me, Fukamachi? It’ll be a three-day, two-night stay, and we’ll have a lot of fun! I’m excited to try Miss Ruiko’s mother’s cooking, too.” Takatsuki’s invitations were always accompanied by assertions like “It’ll be fun.” Perhaps he was just trying to lure Naoya into making some happy memories, like he was constantly talking about. But even if that was the case, it was hard not to be drawn in when the invitation was delivered in such a genuinely happy voice. Besides, Naoya didn’t have any particular plans for his long spring break, so the thought of hot springs and good food was appealing, too. The last time Naoya had seen Takatsuki, a week ago, the older man had been hurrying out of his office. Naoya had been worried about the injured Sasakura—and about Takatsuki, whose face had been drawn and anxious as he left for the hospital that day—but the professor didn’t touch on the topic at all over the phone. Too shy to bring it up himself, Naoya had merely agreed to go on the trip before ending the call. And now they were Yamanashi-bound. Naoya had been picked up on the drive out of town, just like when they visited Okutama. “It looks like Lake Yamanaka is nearby, so why don’t we make a little stop there before the bed-and-breakfast? We could have houtou for lunch while we’re at it.” “Houtou, huh? Now that you mention it, I’ve never had it. It’s like flat udon, right?” “Yep. It’s flavored with miso, and they put lots of veggies in. It’s delicious; plus, it’ll warm us right up. Oh, but I’m wearing a white sweater today… I wonder if the broth will splatter. Maybe it’ll be fine if I’m careful. Hey, Fukamachi, do you like houtou? Have you tried it before?” “I haven’t. But, um…” Naoya leaned forward a little to speak to the two men sitting in the front seats, casually talking about houtou. “Why is the person who got stabbed last week driving as if nothing happened?” Takatsuki turned to look at him. At the wheel, Sasakura merely glanced at Naoya in the rearview mirror. His gaze was, as ever, so intense that it made Naoya worry for a moment that he shouldn’t have said anything. Sasakura’s usual all-black attire, this time including a black down jacket and black sweater, only exacerbated his frightening aura. “…I didn’t get stabbed. I was cut.” Sasakura’s voice was subdued. At first glance, he looked like the type of guy to be involved with the mob or some other unsavory business. In truth, Sasakura was a detective with the First Investigative Division of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. He explained that, while working a case the week before, he had happened to stumble upon the culprit. Worrying that the perp would escape if he waited for backup, Sasakura had moved to apprehend the guy by himself, but the man had been carrying a carving knife and managed to leave a slice in Sasakura’s left thigh. Takatsuki had called him just as the hospital staff had finished treating the wound. “This guy’s just too melodramatic. I was talking to him on the phone, no problem, so he had to know I was fine, but then he has the nerve to show up all beside himself.” “How could I not panic when you say something like ‘I’m at the hospital right now because I got attacked with a carving knife’?! It’s not exactly an everyday occurrence, is it?!” Takatsuki snapped back in indignation at Sasakura’s statement, and for once, Naoya was inclined to agree with him. Sasakura should have been more careful with his wording. “You know, Fukamachi, even if that’s how this guy feels, it was a pretty violent scene, according to his colleague. When he rushed in to assist, he found KenKen pinning the culprit to the floor in a rage, surrounded by a puddle of blood. The guy was almost in tears, face smushed into the ground, a bloody kitchen knife stabbed into the floor less than an inch away from his nose. The other detective said from an outside perspective KenKen looked like a ruthless psychopath who had only half finished his attack.” “That sounds like a recipe for trauma. And ‘a puddle of blood’? Doesn’t that mean it was a pretty serious injury?! Are you really okay to drive?” “It’s on my left leg; it doesn’t affect my driving. Plus, I got my stitches out yesterday, and the doctor even cleared me to take a bath.” “You recover fast, huh…?” “Guess I’m just built different… Anyway, my boss put me on desk duty, said I couldn’t go back to the field until I was healed. But I have a bunch of vacation days saved up, and I’d have more fun if I went on a trip instead.” “You guys both just live to have fun, don’t you?” “That a problem? You should try it sometime.” “Sure. I’ll do my best.” Takatsuki and Sasakura were totally different in both appearance and personality, but this one aspect, at least, they had in common. Apparently they had been friends since they were children because they lived in the same neighborhood, and maybe that was the reason they were still close as adults. In preparation for driving out to the snowy countryside, Sasakura had evidently even taken the trouble of putting snow tires on his car. He clearly intended to enjoy his vacation. “Well, you should take it easy anyway, KenKen, since you’re injured. I can drive if you get tired. I remembered to bring my license and everything!” Takatsuki smiled brightly. Naoya had a feeling, however, that Sasakura had little intention of letting his friend take the wheel. The professor claimed to be a good driver, but if a bird ever flew by the windshield while he was driving, the chances of a major accident occurring were pretty high. After all, he was so terrified of birds that they made him faint. As someone who had watched Takatsuki pass out several times already, Naoya thought it was for the best if he didn’t operate a vehicle anytime soon. Traffic was light on the highway, and they made good time. They hadn’t gotten any snow in Tokyo proper, but before Naoya knew it, the landscape he could see through the car windows was just a blanket of white. The sight made the fact that he was going on a trip more real, somehow. The weather was fine, and when Takatsuki looked out the window and smiled, he declared it was a “perfect day to be traveling.” They arrived at Lake Yamanaka in the early afternoon and had lunch there. Naoya and Sasakura watched attentively as Takatsuki—in his fluffy white sweater—tried to eat houtou without getting any on himself (which he succeeded in). Once they were full, they decided to take a short walk along the lakeside. There were piles of snow everywhere, but the areas where tourists walked around had been shoveled. Sasakura seemed to be walking with a slight limp; he moved slower than usual, but it didn’t seem to hinder him otherwise. On the other side of the lake, Mt. Fuji stood covered entirely in snow and was positively stunning. Parts of the lake were said to freeze in the winter, but as far as they could see that day, the surface remained unencumbered by ice, and the sun’s rays sparkled brilliantly as they bounced off the distant shore. The bone-rattling wind coming from across the water was cold enough to numb their fingers even through their gloves, but it was also so crisp that it seemed like something entirely unlike what they experienced in the city. With every breath, Naoya felt the staleness in his lungs being replaced with air that was clean and fresh. After they more or less finished all the sightseeing they could do and were discussing whether it was time to head to the bed-and-breakfast, Takatsuki turned his attention to the gift shops lining the roadside. “Ah, sorry, could I take a quick look at the souvenirs? I want to get some for the other faculty and members of the registrar’s office, and I thought it might be easier to buy them now.” “Yeah, I should probably get some, too.” Adults had to be mindful of their workplace relationships, apparently. Unsurprisingly for Yamanashi shops, shingen mochi—a treat made by a local manufacturer—was the predominant item available for purchase. Other traditional Japanese snacks and packaged houtou took up much of the remaining shelf space. Naoya went with the two older men to browse the storefronts. He didn’t have anyone in particular to give souvenirs to, but he thought he might find something for himself. There, all at once, Naoya realized he was having a nice time. Perhaps because the three of them had traveled together before, he found it easy to spend time with Takatsuki and Sasakura. They both knew about Naoya’s circumstances, and neither of them told lies. Despite the considerable age gap between them, they didn’t really make Naoya feel like a burdensome little kid or a third wheel, and he was grateful for that. After Naoya’s hearing changed, even vacations with his family became a bit uncomfortable. Outside of school field trips, he had never traveled somewhere for fun with friends his own age. More to the point, he didn’t have any friends he knew well enough to take a trip with. …Was it really okay for him to be having this much fun? An abrupt, chilling unease gripped Naoya’s chest, making him shudder. You will be lonely. That’s what was said to him the night he gained his ability. The words were a judgment, and the ability was his punishment. For the crime of participating in that forbidden festival, he was sentenced to live out the rest of his days all alone. That’s how Naoya saw it. And yet he wasn’t alone right now. He was spending time with others, and he was enjoying it. But…was he allowed to have fun like this? Would he be forgiven, even though he was sentenced to loneliness? “That’s enough! I told you: I’m not buying it today! We’re going home!” The sudden sounds of an angry voice and a crying child snapped Naoya out of his thoughts. He looked to the next shop over, where a young child seemed to be throwing a tantrum over a toy. The little one’s mother looked furious and was trying to drag her child away by the hand, only to be foiled by small, stubborn feet digging into the floor. “No, nooo! I want it, I want it!” “Fine, okay! I’ll buy it for you next time!” As the mother crouched in front of the child, attempting to negotiate, her voice cracked and warped. “You can have it the next time we’re here, okay?! So let’s go!” “No, you’re lying! You’re lying, I don’t believe you!” “Good grief! It’s not a lie! I’m telling you: I’ll buy it for you next time!” “No, you’re lying! Noooo, I want it now!” The child was bawling in earnest. In his head, Naoya told the child, You’re right. She is lying. Suddenly, Naoya started to notice the people around him. The gift shops were pretty busy, despite the cold. There was a man and a woman who seemed to be a couple— “When are we going to go to that restaurant we talked about?” “Oh, right, that place. I tried calling, but I guess they’re all booked up. We probably won’t be able to go anytime soon.” A father and his kids— “Dad, Mom is looking for you!” “Give me a minute; tell her I’ll be there after I take this work call.” A man dressed in typical office attire talking on his phone— “Yes, they were actually quite understanding, but as for the ordering period—” Once he was conscious of all the chatter, it was too late. Naoya became hyperaware of each and every voice, which he had apparently been able to filter out naturally up until that moment. He fumbled in his pockets for his headphones but came up empty; his MP3 player was probably in the car. Desperate, Naoya covered his ears with his hands, but that wasn’t enough to block out the noise. Someone walked by just behind him, speaking in a voice like the horrible racket of an unskilled theremin player. Naoya stared at the floor, anxious to keep the awful chills washing over him at bay. This was surely, as Naoya had feared, the world trying to lock him out. It was right there in his ears, screaming at him: You don’t belong here. You aren’t worthy of being here. You should have stayed cowering inside your little walls, all alone. When he was with Takatsuki and Sasakura, he tended to forget that this was how the world worked for him. Somehow, Naoya managed to drag his gaze up to search for Takatsuki and Sasakura. They had wandered farther into the store without his noticing and seemed to be chatting about something as they perused the souvenir-stocked shelves. I have to get over to them, now, Naoya thought, but as if they had been tied down, his feet wouldn’t move. Then— Out of nowhere, someone yanked on Naoya’s scarf from behind. The fabric encircling his neck tightened, and his breath stuttered in his throat. Naoya grabbed his scarf in a panic and held on, trying to keep it from digging any harder into his windpipe. A hand clamped down on his shoulder next, accompanied by a voice in his ear that reeked of tobacco. “Yo, kiddo. Long time no see.” The whispered greeting only made Naoya more confused. His arm was forced behind his back and held there firmly. Whoever was grabbing at him used that arm to steer Naoya into a shadowy section of the shop, sandwiched between a shelf and the wall. “Hey! Wh—?! Let me go…!” “Oh-ho? Don’t tell me you forgot about me… That stings, y’know? I remember you real well, Seiwa University student Naoya Fukamachi.” “Huh…?” Pressed up against the wall, Naoya managed to get a look at his captor. He was a man, face partially obscured behind sunglasses, who appeared to be in his late thirties. He had curly, disheveled hair and an obvious five o’clock shadow. He looked down with his pointed chin jutting out, and Naoya felt like he had seen that face before. With a sneer that made his already downturned eyes seem to droop even more, the man raised his sunglasses. “How d’you do? It’s me, Iinuma, freelance journalist.” Realization hit Naoya when the man said his own name. Iinuma was a gossip mag reporter Naoya had had run-ins with before. When Takatsuki had gone to investigate some ghostly activity at the request of a famous actress, Iinuma had taken pictures of the professor and the actress together without their permission. “What are you doing here…? You’re not still investigating the professor, are you?” After his photo and corresponding article about Takatsuki and the actress was crushed, Iinuma had taken an interest in Takatsuki. He had looked into Takatsuki’s past, including the kamikakushi incident, and even approached Naoya hoping to get more material. But Iinuma shook his head nonchalantly at the question. “Nah, it’s not like I have that much free time. I’m here for another story. There’s an actor and a fresh-faced little anchorwoman having an affair in a villa around here, so I just came to get some pictures. Thought I would make a visit to the hot springs before going home, since I’m done with work, but who did I just so happen to see? You and that professor. Felt like this must be fate—or my journalist’s intuition at work.” Blabbering on and on about things Naoya hadn’t even asked about, Iinuma lifted the large camera hanging around his neck. “…So listen. What’s the deal with that professor?” He stuck the camera out in front of Naoya with the screen facing him. One of Iinuma’s photos was on the screen. It was one taken from behind: of Naoya, Takatsuki, and Sasakura walking around. He must have been snapping pictures in secret while the three of them had been strolling along Lake Yamanaka. “I used a telephoto lens for this, y’know… So why was that guy looking right at me? He spotted me right away and kept glaring at me. It freaked me out.” Iinuma tapped a button on the camera, cycling through pictures that had likely been taken in succession like a little frame-by-frame playback. With the press of a button, the Takatsuki in the first photograph went from having his back toward the camera to turning and staring straight at it, gaze sharp. Come to think of it, Naoya remembered that once or twice while they were sightseeing, Takatsuki seemed to be preoccupied with something behind them. “See? Look at this—I told you, his eyes are blue. I’d really like to know what that guy’s deal is.” In the picture Iinuma pointed out, Takatsuki’s eyes were a deep indigo. His interest piqued once he noticed that the professor’s eyes occasionally changed color like that, Iinuma had been poking around in Takatsuki’s business. “Listen, kid, you wanna reconsider passing information along to me?” Iinuma spoke in a raspy voice, peering at Naoya. “I’ve been doing a lot of research on him since last time, and it seems like there’s some fascinating stuff to be found. I think it would make a great story if it was handled by a professional. I’ll pay you. Whaddaya say?” “Not a chance. Please let go of me.” “You’re as cold as ever, kiddo. But are you sure it’s a good idea to turn me down? You know, I have some dirt on you, too.” Iinuma’s voice distorted. Naoya grimaced. “What’s the point in threatening me when you don’t actually have anything to back it up?” “Oh? And what makes you so sure of that? There’s nobody more honest than me. Well, I guess if you don’t care, I’ll just tell all your little friends what I know.” The roiling pitch of Iinuma’s voice was sickening. It was like the man’s filthy hands were riffling sloppily through his brain. Pressed against the wall, Naoya struggled to take even breaths. He lifted his aching, heavy head with all the strength he could muster and glared at Iinuma. “…Shut up… You’re so annoying… You liar…” “No one ever taught you not to speak to your elders like that, huh?! Is this what college kids are like these—? Yeow!” Iinuma let out a sudden yelp. In the same moment, the hand holding Naoya in place disappeared. “What exactly did you think you were doing with my assistant just now?” The sound of that familiar, clear voice made Naoya gasp. It was Takatsuki. When had he shown up? He had Iinuma’s arm twisted behind his back and didn’t seem to be using much force to keep it there, but the other man was making a point to complain about it quite loudly. “Ow! Ow, it hurts, it hurts! What are you doing?! You’re gonna break my arm! Someone, help! I’m being attacked!” “Police. What’s going on here?” Sasakura appeared, looming over Takatsuki’s shoulder. Iinuma continued to yell, his arm still in the professor’s grasp. “Oh, officer! You’re just in time! This man was assaulting that boy, so I tried to stop him! I think he even secretly filmed him. The proof is on that camera.” “Oh, a voyeur, huh? Let me take a look.” Sasakura reached for the camera hanging from Iinuma’s neck. “W-wait a sec! Are you really a detective?! Wait, I’m sorry! I said I’m sorry, so let me go already!” The moment Takatsuki’s grip loosened, Iinuma darted away, cradling his injured arm. While the other tourists looked around to see what the fuss was all about, Takatsuki and Sasakura both turned to peer into Naoya’s face, their interest in Iinuma’s whereabouts already used up, it seemed. “Are you okay, Fukamachi?” “Hey, Fukamachi, was that him? The journalist you mentioned before?” “I…” Naoya looked up at the two of them. His knees trembled, and when it looked like he was about to sink to the floor, they moved to support him on either side. Takatsuki’s voice was full of regret. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you got separated from us at first. And I never imagined you’d be getting harassed by some creep.” “Oh… No, it’s my fault. I got distracted…” The hands holding him up were big and reliable, and listening to undistorted voices made him feel like he could relax. And even more than that was the overwhelming sense of relief—like a knot in his chest had come loose. Naoya gave a great, shuddering sigh. Just minutes ago, breathing had been so difficult. Now it was so easy it seemed unbelievable. Urging his shaking legs to hold him upright, Naoya stood on his own and bowed his head slightly to Takatsuki and Sasakura. “I apologize. I’m okay now. It seems like that guy saw us here by chance and was following us. I guess he tried talking to me because we had spoken before.” “You look pale. Did he do something to you?” Naoya shook his head at Sasakura’s question. “I’m fine. But I think he’s digging into the professor’s background again.” “…Damn. Shouldn’t have let him run off, after all.” Sasakura turned to look in the direction Iinuma had run, his already fierce-looking features twisting into an even more vicious expression. Squinting a bit, Takatsuki stared off that way, too. “It’s all right. He’s gone. Let’s come up with a plan for the next time he comes around.” “Good idea. Anyway—for now, we should get to the inn. I want this kid to lie down. Come on, let’s go.” As he spoke, Sasakura grabbed Naoya by the base of the neck. He started toward where the car was parked, dragging Naoya along with a firm grip… Naoya, as usual, wished Sasakura would stop escorting him like a criminal every time he led the way somewhere. Ruiko’s parents’ bed-and-breakfast was an elegant, Western-style building situated in the woods. The sun had already set by the time they arrived, but the warm glow of the building’s lights helped it stand out from its surroundings. Flowerpots arranged here and there on the property housed violets, pansies, ornamental kale, and other vivid winter blooms. Inside the front door was a considerable lobby, furnished with upholstered couches and a table. Directly across from the entrance was a large wooden reception counter. A well-built middle-aged man standing behind it looked up at them and smiled. “Ah, are you Professor Takatsuki, by any chance?” “Yes, I’m Takatsuki from Seiwa University. Thank you for your hospitality. Your inn is lovely.” “Thank you very much. And I’m the one who should be thanking you for always looking after our daughter.” Speaking in a calm, deep voice, Ruiko’s father bowed his head. At that moment, Ruiko—dressed in an apron with her long hair tied back—appeared from out of a corridor to the right of the counter. “Ah! Professor Akira, Fukamachi, Mr. Sasakura, welcome! Let me show you to your room!” Guided by Ruiko, they took the staircase to the left of reception to the second floor. She led them to a spacious room usually meant for families. Like the one they stayed at in Okutama, it was a blend of Japanese and Western styles, with two beds and a section of tatami flooring large enough for a futon. There was also a small bathroom. Naoya put down his bag on the tatami mats right away, figuring that once again he would be the one taking the futon. Whether it was rock-paper-scissors or anything else, he doubted he would beat Takatsuki and Sasakura. “Dinner is in about thirty minutes. If you go down the hallway next to reception, the dining room is on the left. The hot springs are opposite that. Relax and enjoy yourselves, okay?” “Thank you, Miss Ruiko. Does your family run this place by themselves?” “Oh, no, that would be impossible. They have employees. Since I only come back to help out a little during long vacations, my parents are always calling me an ungrateful daughter and so on. By the way, I made tonight’s predinner appetizer, so I hope you like it!” With that, Ruiko bustled out of the room, as she apparently still had work to do. Half an hour later, the three of them made their way to the dining room, where two other groups of customers were already seated. The tables were covered in white tablecloths and adorned with small candles. Takatsuki and Sasakura ordered a bottle of red wine from the list Ruiko brought to them. Sasakura shoved the nonalcoholic drinks menu at Naoya, apparently having no intention of letting him get away with underage drinking, but Naoya just asked for water. Dinner was a multicourse Italian affair. Ruiko’s appetizer turned out to be a serving platter of small, assorted dishes, from liver pâté to marinated vegetables. It was so splendidly arranged it reminded Naoya of a tray of patisserie sweets. “Whoa, you really made this, Miss Ruiko?” “Don’t look so surprised, Fukamachi!” Ruiko replied, setting plates out for each of them. “No, I just meant it looks like something you’d get from a professional chef… It kind of caught me off guard.” “That’s because my mom taught me to cook. She used to be a chef. Even after she got married, she taught cooking classes. Thanks to her, I can at least have confidence in making food.” Ruiko puffed up with pride. Naoya remembered her mentioning that the cake at Takatsuki’s birthday party wasn’t store-bought, but rather another dish she was responsible for. His first impression of Ruiko—lying face down on the ground in Takatsuki’s office with impressions from the floorboard seams clear across her cheeks—was so strong, Naoya never expected her to have a special skill like cooking. Naoya took a bite of the appetizer—it tasted as good as it looked. He wasn’t the type to obsess much over food, but nonetheless, he could appreciate being served a delicious meal. Honestly, Naoya was glad he came on the trip after all. Takatsuki and Sasakura had cleared their appetizers already, and they, too, looked content as they sipped their wine. The next course was pasta: Dishes of penne topped with bright-red sauce were brought to their table. This looks delicious, too, Naoya thought, picking up his fork. At that moment, Ruiko’s father walked into the dining room, new customers in tow. “Please sit here. Your food will be out shortly.” “We’re so sorry we were late.” Bed-and-breakfasts like this one typically had fixed mealtimes, but Ruiko’s father led the guests to their table with a gentle smile as if he wasn’t bothered in the slightest. Despite the moderate distance between their tables, Naoya could hear what the new guests were saying. “My husband tried to hurry me along, but I was late getting ready, you see. But these days, whenever we come to stay at the villa, I always make it a rule to eat here at least once. The food is so delicious.” “We’re very grateful for your repeated patronage, Mrs. Kirishima.” Ruiko’s father bowed politely to the table before heading in the direction of the kitchen. It seemed the new customers owned a vacation home nearby and had only come for the food. Naoya sneaked a look at them. There was a broad-shouldered man and a plump woman, both getting on in years, who seemed to be a couple. Takatsuki also glanced over, but the moment he got a look at them, his eyes widened and he turned his face away. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Sasakura asked. Keeping his face hidden, Takatsuki answered in a low voice. “…Sorry, KenKen, but would you swap seats with me?” Sasakura frowned but immediately did as Takatsuki asked. Newly seated with his back to the older couple, the professor let out a small sigh. Sasakura spoke up again. “You know those people?” “Yeah, the woman… She used to visit my mother’s place a lot.” Hearing that, Naoya’s gaze inadvertently strayed toward the couple again. They were busy perusing the wine menu, apparently oblivious to anyone else’s attentions. Takatsuki had told Naoya once that after he came back from wherever he had disappeared to, his mother had dubbed him the Tengu’s Child and essentially deified him. His mother’s father was the president of a massive corporation, and someday that title would be passed to her own husband. She was always surrounded by the wives of company executives and business partners, and evidently, she had wanted to spread belief in the Tengu’s Child to those women as well. The older lady sitting across the dining room from them at that moment had known Takatsuki when he was the Tengu’s Child. “Ugh, what terrible luck… I didn’t expect to run into an old acquaintance in a place like this.” Takatsuki grimaced. “You sure it’s the same person? It’s been, what? More than twenty years since you last met? Could be somebody else.” “You should know I never misidentify people, KenKen. I remember her name, too—Mrs. Ayako Kirishima. That woman, she’s probably gained around forty pounds over the years, but her face hasn’t changed much… The problem is, neither has mine.” “That’s true.” Sasakura nodded. In other words, there was a chance the woman would recognize Takatsuki, too. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter if she sees me. Still, I’d rather not run into old acquaintances.” For once, Takatsuki looked disheartened. “Right now, just focus on eating your pasta before it gets cold. That couple isn’t staying here. Once they leave, you probably won’t see her again.” “That’s right. And I’ll give you my dessert when it comes out, so please cheer up.” “…Thank you both. But, Fukamachi, that kind of encouragement is a bit…” “You will eat it, though, won’t you, Professor?” “Of course, if you’re going to give it to me, I’ll gladly eat it, but… I’m your teacher, and I’m older than you…” Fork in hand, Takatsuki started stirring up his penne, grumbling under his breath. Naoya thought he had some nerve acting all mature when all it took was sweets to cheer him up. Besides, it wasn’t like Naoya had another way to make Takatsuki smile. Even with the slight damper on the mood, all the food was delicious. Naoya felt that both the pasta and the main course—roast pork—were better than he could have gotten at any nearby restaurant. When he passed the gelato he was given for dessert to Takatsuki, the professor accepted it with a radiant smile and his thanks. Making him happy really did require no more than a sugary treat. Coffee was served after the food was cleared away. A woman wearing a chef’s uniform emerged from the kitchen along with Ruiko. The two of them looked so alike that Naoya knew instantly that the woman was Ruiko’s mother. Coming over to Takatsuki’s side, Ruiko’s mother gave a polite bow of her head. “Thank you for always looking after my daughter, Professor Takatsuki. And for coming all this way. Was today’s meal to your liking?” “Indeed, everything was absolutely splendid. I expected no less.” Ruiko’s mother turned lightly pink in the face of Takatsuki’s bright smile. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it… Professor, my daughter doesn’t cause you any trouble, does she? She’s so disorganized, you know. I worry about her, as her parent.” “Not at all. Miss Ruiko is a very good, helpful, attentive student. She’s quite enthusiastic about research, too. She does occasionally fall asleep on my office floor or leave books lying around everywhere, but I can tolerate that much.” “Professor Akira!” Ruiko interjected, eager to stop the grinning professor from continuing to describe her behavior at school. Her mother gazed earnestly into Takatsuki’s eyes. “At any rate, Professor, I had heard as much from Ruiko, but you really are quite young and handsome, aren’t you…? Perhaps, if you wouldn’t mind, would you consider marrying our daughter? Ever since she was young, she’s only ever been interested in ghost stories and demons, and even now that she’s grown, I’ve never once heard her talk about romance. When she was a child, you know, she always used to tell me, ‘I’m going to marry GeGeGe no Kitaro!’” “Mo-oom, stop talking nonsense!” That time, Ruiko interrupted her mother, who chuckled and said, “Though, if she actually had brought Kitaro home to her family, I would have accepted it in the end.” Hold on, you’d accept it? Naoya thought. This was Ruiko’s mother, after all. Well, what mattered most was that her family seemed to get along well. …This could be bad, though, Naoya thought, casually glancing around. Just as he feared, all the other patrons were looking their way. It made sense. The chef coming out of the kitchen with her daughter to greet a customer would get people’s attention. That Kirishima woman had also turned toward them in interest. She was murmuring something to her husband and taking the occasional sip of wine. From where she was seated, she wouldn’t be able to see Takatsuki’s face, but there were other potential risks. After all, his name had come up during the conversation. Peeking quickly at the professor, Naoya got the impression that, even though he was smiling as he responded to Ruiko’s mother, he was also keenly aware of Mrs. Kirishima’s attention. Nevertheless, once the meal was over, Mrs. Kirishima and her husband would return to their villa. If they stayed a little while at their own table after the older couple vacated theirs, they could avoid a run-in. That was the plan, at least. But…their hopes were too high. “You there! Could I have a moment?” The three of them watched the couple leave their table and waited a short while before doing the same. Despite that, the moment they set foot in the lobby on the way back to their room, a woman who had clearly been watching for them stood up from one of the couches. It was Mrs. Kirishima. She hurried over to them with a smile, her plump form swaying slightly with the movement. Takatsuki’s shoulders jolted minutely, and Sasakura stepped out in front of him like a shield. Unfazed, Mrs. Kirishima simply veered around him and stared up into Takatsuki’s face. “My, my, what have we here? I thought it was you—Tengu-sama!” At that, Takatsuki’s whole body stiffened so clearly that, even standing beside him, Naoya could tell. Sasakura looked down at Mrs. Kirishima with disgust. “Excuse me, but that’s not his—” “Ah yes, I’m sorry. What was it again…? Right. Akira, isn’t it? I heard your name during dinner just now, and it brought back such fond memories! My, look how you’ve grown… Oh, you probably don’t remember me anymore, do you? We met several times, ages ago, at your mother’s tea parties. How is your mother, by the way? I heard she was doing poorly some years back and haven’t seen her at all since. I’ve been quite worried.” Mrs. Kirishima prattled on, unaware of Takatsuki’s discomfort. What was worse, in Naoya’s opinion, was that she was gazing at the professor like he was a dear old friend, without a scrap of malice in her expression. Even if they wanted to put an abrupt end to the situation, they could hardly push past her—she was just an old lady. And then… “Oh, I remember you, Mrs. Kirishima.” …Takatsuki started to speak. “I remember you very well. You had a favorite blue floral dress that you wore often, yes? It suited you. I also remember agreeing to help you find something you’d lost—your wedding ring. You told me you wanted to find it before your husband found out. I offered you a theory as to its whereabouts. ‘Is it not in your car?’ I said.” A sweet smile spread across Takatsuki’s finely shaped mouth. Still seated on the lobby sofa, Mr. Kirishima looked at his wife with his eyes wide. Flustered, Mrs. Kirishima glanced back at her husband, waving a hand dismissively and saying, “Oh dear, that’s not right.” But Takatsuki continued talking as if to deliberately drown out her words. “I’m glad you found your ring back then. But it wasn’t a result of me having clairvoyance or anything like that. I merely happened to see you shortly before that, down the street in your car with a young man. I was a little far away, but I have excellent vision, and I could see that there was no ring on your finger at the time.” Mrs. Kirishima gaped at him, then snapped her mouth shut. Looking down at her with eyes that flickered with indigo, Takatsuki spoke in a gentle voice. “I’m very sorry, but I can’t tell you how my mother has been lately. I’ve cut ties with my parents’ house completely, so I haven’t even seen her face in years. Now then, if you’ll excuse me.” With another broad smile, Takatsuki gave a small, graceful bow to Mrs. Kirishima before heading toward the stairs. Naoya and Sasakura went after him without a word; Mrs. Kirishima did not follow. Back in their room, Takatsuki made a beeline for the bed, sitting right down on top of the sheets with a whump and staring at the floor. “Hey…” “What am I supposed to do…when someone asks me about my mother out of the blue?” Cutting off Sasakura, the professor started talking with his gaze still pointed downward. “I can’t even remember the last time I saw her. After all, I was handed some severance money and told never to darken my parents’ doorstep again. It was inevitable, I guess, since it’s my fault my mother ended up like that. But…” Takatsuki, his tone all matter-of-fact until that point, suddenly went quiet. With a big sigh, he ran a hand through his own hair and glanced up at Sasakura. “…That was pretty childish of me just now, wasn’t it?” “Who cares? It wasn’t that bad.” “Okay,” Takatsuki murmured, flopping fully back onto the bed. He stayed that way for several seconds, silently staring at the ceiling, then snapped back to a seated position to look at Naoya. “I’m sorry, Fukamachi. That must have been unpleasant for you.” “It wasn’t… Not really…” Feeling awkward, Naoya shook his head. He was roughly aware of the effect the professor’s kamikakushi incident had on the Takatsuki family’s state of affairs. He knew Takatsuki’s refusal to be the Tengu’s Child led to his mother having a total breakdown, and that his father, unable to stand it, had sent Takatsuki overseas for a time to live with a relative. But the part about the severance money or whatever it was—Naoya hadn’t heard that before. Takatsuki’s smile was bitter. “…I look like I’m quite rich, don’t I? What with the place I live and all that—those are the arrangements my father made for me when I returned to Japan. He said, ‘Starting today, your home is here. Nowhere else.’ He gave me that and a bankbook with a considerable sum of money recorded in it.” The professor shrugged slightly, his tone casual like the topic was of no importance. But his father’s words—essentially, he had told his son he was no longer welcome in their house. “You know, I think my family had been rather close, before. But ever since everything that happened—what hope did we have? We’ll probably never go back to the way things were. Surprisingly, there may be people from that circle who don’t know anything about the state of affairs. People who talk to me as if nothing has changed, just like Mrs. Kirishima… It’s really…frustrating.” Once more, Takatsuki hung his head. Naoya realized he could hear every soft breath Takatsuki exhaled trembling a little, and his chest tightened painfully. “Professor…” He started to say something but faltered, realizing he had no idea what would be appropriate. Takatsuki looked up with a somewhat pitiful smile. “I’m sorry for bringing up something like that. Right—why don’t the two of you go to the hot spring? Take advantage of it while you can.” “…Yeah. Maybe now’s a good time for a bath.” Sasakura nodded and agreed with Takatsuki, so Naoya grabbed his yukata and towel. Takatsuki didn’t accompany them to the first-floor bathhouse. Naoya understood why… But still, it made his heart break just a little. Late that night, something happened. Naoya woke with a start, feeling like some kind of noise was to blame. Confused, he turned over in the futon, looking blearily up at the ceiling. He didn’t hear anything odd. Checking the wristwatch he wore to bed, he saw it was past two o’clock. No one was awake. Naoya chalked it up to his imagination and tried to go back to sleep. Then… “…!” A faint cry and the thud of a duvet being thrown aside shocked Naoya back to consciousness. It had come from one of the beds, a short distance from the tatami flooring and futon he was sleeping in. Takatsuki had taken the bed closer to Naoya, and Sasakura’s was a little farther away. Naoya turned quietly to look in that direction. The overhead lights were off, but there was just enough of a glow from the still-lit baseboard lights to get a dim view of the room. He saw Takatsuki, on top of the nearer bed, curled in on himself. The professor had his back turned to Naoya and both arms wrapped tight around his own torso. He was trembling, his breathing ragged, scoring his long fingers over and over down his yukata-clad back, nails digging in. It was like he was checking for something. He sounded utterly petrified. Just as Naoya was considering waking him, he saw Sasakura rise from the other bed. “…Hey. Akira.” Grabbing Takatsuki by the shoulder, Sasakura gave him a gentle shake. Takatsuki’s whole body jolted. “…Ah… Ken…Ken?” Eyes opening, Takatsuki straightened up. His voice was hoarse. “Sorry… Did I wake you? I…must have been dreaming…” “You okay now?” Sasakura asked. “…Yeah, I’m okay.” Takatsuki’s reply was horribly distorted. Naoya’s breath caught in his throat; it felt like someone was sitting on his chest. Like he was trying desperately to calm his own breathing, Takatsuki said the words again and again. “I’m okay. I’m okay, I am. I’m totally fine. I’m all right… I’m not dreaming anymore, so I’m fine.” The more he repeated himself, the less warped Takatsuki’s voice became. For some reason, listening to it made Naoya want to cry. Liar, he thought. The truth was, Takatsuki wasn’t okay in the slightest. He kept saying those words to convince himself, forcing the lie to become reality, the lone competitor in a cruel game. And Naoya knew all about it. He felt ill. He couldn’t bear it. He wanted to rip off his own ears and throw them away. That kind of understanding—Naoya didn’t want it. Even Takatsuki would never want that. “Think you can get back to sleep?” Naoya heard Sasakura ask Takatsuki another question. The professor answered, his voice free of distortion. “Yeah. I’m okay. You go back to sleep, too, Kenji. Sorry for waking you… I didn’t wake Fukamachi, too, did I?” Takatsuki looked over his shoulder, and Naoya quickly pretended to be sleeping. He felt both of their gazes on him for a little while, but before long, it sounded like they were putting Takatsuki’s duvet back in place and lying down. Naoya heard the rustle of fabric and the creaking of bed frames. Not at all tired, Naoya buried himself in the futon and stared into the murky darkness, trying to stifle his shaky breath. He had heard about Takatsuki’s nightmares before. Dreams in which huge black wings burst through the torn-open skin on his back. But that was just one of the nightmares the professor had. Whatever he had seen just now wasn’t necessarily that. Regardless, it was probably caused by his running into Mrs. Kirishima after dinner. The name she had called him—Tengu-sama—was likely the trigger. Remembering how Takatsuki’s voice had warped minutes ago, Naoya covered his ears and curled into a ball. He squeezed his eyes shut; the urge to cry was so strong. Naoya had never seen the scars on Takatsuki’s back. He knew Takatsuki didn’t want anyone—not even Naoya—to see them. Takatsuki was always smiling. He had his childish moments, but he was still a reliable adult and a strong human being. And yet, even now, Takatsuki was a prisoner of his past. He was suffering. There was a month of that past missing from his memory. Years later, Takatsuki still could not recall what had happened during that month. He was living with unknowns—but that meant he was also living with fear. All he could do was guess what he might have experienced in that time. He was looking for an “interpretation” to his own “phenomenon.” So far, though, it seemed that all Takatsuki’s guessing had culminated in was nightmares. His mother had imposed on him the vision that he was carried off by tengu and nearly turned into one himself. She believed the skin on his back was ripped away when his wings were taken from him. The other, more realistic theory, as Takatsuki himself had worded it, was that he had been kidnapped by a common pervert, used as a plaything, and eventually had the skin peeled from his back. Either of those options had the chance of being correct, but there was also the possibility of the truth being even more sinister. At any rate, Takatsuki’s nightmare wouldn’t end until he found answers. Perhaps, eventually… Maybe even sometime soon, the day would come when Takatsuki would know the truth and be freed from his past. Naoya hoped so. And he wished—from the bottom of his heart—that when that day arrived, it would come not with cruelty, but with peace. “Let’s go to that demon cave today!” It was the next morning. Takatsuki was beaming across the breakfast table. “Apparently, it’s not on any maps, but Miss Ruiko drew one for us, so we should be fine! I’ll leave that to you, if you don’t mind!” As if it was the obvious thing to do, Takatsuki handed the piece of writing paper with the map on it to Naoya. “…You had no intention of trying to read the map yourself, did you, Professor?” “Well, there’s no way I would be able to find the cave even if I did!” “It’s important to know your own weaknesses, I suppose…” With Takatsuki smiling as though nothing had happened overnight, Naoya had no choice but to behave as usual. Sasakura’s face didn’t look any different, either… A furrowed brow and a scary expression were normal for him, after all. Ruiko had wanted to accompany them to the cave, but she was buying and preparing groceries that day on her mother’s orders. The three of them would be checking out the cave alone. “What’s that? You’re going to see the cave? It’s not all that impressive, you know. It’s in the mountains, and there’s probably all kinds of snow… Would you like to rent some boots?” Ruiko’s father provided them with snow boots he loaned out to guests who wanted to explore the area on foot. Since there was nowhere to get food near the cave, Ruiko’s mother also gave them some homemade sandwiches along with disposable hand warmers. They were very attentive hosts. It would apparently take thirty minutes to reach the cave by car. On the way, with Sasakura at the wheel, Takatsuki told them about local folklore. “There’s a famous cave in Otsuki City in Yamanashi Prefecture called Oni no Iwaya. They have a legend about the folk hero Momotaro, too.” “Huh? I thought the Momotaro story was based in Okayama?” “That’s true; nowadays Momotaro is generally associated with Okayama Prefecture, but there are actually many similar tales from all over the country. The story of Momotaro itself is said to have taken its basic form in the oral tradition by the end of the Muromachi period. As publication developed during the Edo period, the story was transcribed and spread. According to the version told in Otsuki City, the peach didn’t tumble into the river and float down on the current—it was found in a tree by an old man and an old woman, who brought it home. When they tried to cut into it, they discovered a baby boy inside. Once he was older, Momotaro enlisted a dog, a monkey, and a pheasant as his servants and went to slay the evil demon that lived in Mt. Iwadono. Oni no Iwaya is the specific location where that demon is said to have dwelled.” “So does the cave we’re going to have a legend like that?” “No, according to Miss Ruiko, the story of this cave is that the murderous demon who lived there was slain by villagers. There’s a village called Sakai near the cave. Once, when Ruiko was helping out at the bed-and-breakfast, she made friends with a girl from Sakai, and that girl shared the story with her, it seems. Some research didn’t turn up tales regarding demons in Sakai, so it’s possible this legend is only passed down in that community… Ah, it’s so wonderful how many legends and folktales there are yet to discover in this world!” Looking back over his shoulder at Naoya from the passenger seat, Takatsuki smiled with what appeared to be genuine joy. Somehow, seeing that made Naoya feel relieved. The incident from the night before had still been weighing slightly on his mind. If Takatsuki was fine now—if he had accepted that it was just a bad dream and wasn’t letting it plague him through the morning—that was a good thing. The sight of his earnest excitement and twinkling eyes helped Naoya relax as well. “Hey, look at that.” Sasakura slowed the car a little. Up ahead on the edge of the road, they could see a group of people walking. There were five, maybe six men, all dressed in winter clothes and each carrying something long and thin. Looking closer, Naoya was startled to realize the objects in their hands were hunting rifles. “Oh, I wonder if they live around here. Maybe they know about the cave; let’s ask.” At Takatsuki’s suggestion, Sasakura pulled the car up alongside the men and stopped. The professor rolled down his window and called out to the group. “Hello! Are you deer hunting?” “Yeah. There’s tons of ’em around here.” They seemed to be members of a local hunting club. Naoya, who had never seen anything like a rifle outside of TV, stared at them with wide eyes through the window. Takatsuki continued. “If we go straight down this road, we’ll get to a place called Sakai, right?” “Yeah, that’s right… You all have business in our village or something?” The men’s gazes turned suspicious. Evidently, they were from Sakai. “Yes. We heard there was a demon cave around there and thought we would go see it while we’re in the area. Do you know it?” “…Where did you hear about that?” The men were scowling at Takatsuki with increasingly dubious expressions. It was quite a frightening sight, what with the rifles in their hands. But Takatsuki just smiled as he always did, showing no signs of being perturbed. “Oh, my apologies. I teach folklore studies at a university. I would love to learn more about the demon cave’s story if I could. Is there anyone who’s particularly knowledgeable about the legend? If possible, I’d like to interview them.” In response to Takatsuki’s smooth, easy tone, the group looked a bit hesitant. A few of the men took turns giving their input. “You don’t say…? A university professor, huh? To take the trouble to come all the way out here…” “It’s not all that big or deep, even though it’s called the demon’s cave. There’s just a teeny little shrine inside it. Just somethin’ kids sneak into on dares and such.” “They say there’s a demon’s head enshrined in there. Everyone in Sakai grows up hearing about it, but if you want details… Well, your best bet would probably be the Kitou family.” Takatsuki leaned slightly forward out the open window. “The Kitou family, you say? How is that spelled?” “With the ki character for demon, and the tou for head. Legend has it that a long time ago, when a demon came to the village, the family’s ancestors killed it by breaking off its horn and decapitating it. Ever since then, the Kitou family has worshipped the demon shrine.” “They broke the horn when they killed it! How incredible!” Takatsuki’s eyes were alight with excitement. For a place that didn’t even attract tourists, the cave seemed to have a surprisingly fleshed-out legend. “And what sort of household is the Kitou family descended from? Village peacemakers or something similar, perhaps?” “No, nothing like that. No lofty position. They were moneylenders.” “Ah. Moneylenders?” “We’re talking ages ago. They had the biggest, most expensive house in Sakai. Thanks to that, people from the village still have a chip on their shoulder about it… Old ladies around town used to say, ‘Don’t go near that house over there, it’s full of man-eaters.’” “Man-eaters?” Suddenly, the conversation turned quite dark. Takatsuki looked even more keen. “I wonder what they meant. Certainly not literal cannibalism, one would think. After all, if that were the case, they wouldn’t be a family who worships a demon—they would be demons themselves.” For a moment, Naoya’s mind was filled with a scene inspired by Takatsuki’s words: images in an old house of a knife-wielding demon who butchered and devoured humans. It was like the legend of the demon woman of Adachigahara. But the group of hunters just laughed at the professor’s musings. “No, no, can you imagine? People probably just started calling them man-eaters ’cause they hounded folks who didn’t pay their loans back. They aren’t even moneylenders anymore. It’s all just old gossip… If you’re going to Sakai, you should park your car somewhere on the road just before town. The roads inside are real narrow, so they can be hard to drive on if you’re not used to it.” “I see. Thank you for your help.” “Sure thing. Bye now. Hope you don’t run into any bears who just woke up from hibernation!” That parting comment about the bears seemed to be a joke, and the men all roared with laughter as they started walking again. They were a rough-looking bunch, but kind nevertheless. After driving on a bit farther, the view ahead suddenly opened up to reveal a number of houses clustered together in a valley, forming a little settlement. It had to be Sakai. According to Ruiko’s map, the only way to the demon cave was through the village. Heeding the hunters’ advice, they left the car on the main road right outside town. With every exhaled breath turning into a great plume of white smoke, the three of them gratefully opened the hand warmers they had been given and started walking. “Do you see the roof on that building over there, Fukamachi? Doesn’t it look like it has another roof sticking out of it?” Takatsuki pointed out someone’s house along their trek. Many of the houses in the area had gabled roofs, probably because of the heavy snowfall. The home Takatsuki was talking about had a roof shaped like an open book but face down, with a smaller, slightly more elevated roof in its center. It wasn’t quite tall enough to be a third story, instead giving the impression that it was built as a spacious attic area. “That style of roof is a holdover from an old silk farm. Silkworms would be kept in the attic, with the roof raised for ventilation and lighting purposes. This used to be a thriving sericulture region.” When Naoya looked around the area, he noticed a good number of houses had such roofs. It was likely that few, if any, of those houses still raised silkworms, but by retaining their original design, the townscape itself seemed to create a link between the past and the present. At the village edge, they came across a path that continued into the mountains. The demon cave was down that path. Even with all the snow, a certain amount of people coming and going on foot had compacted the roads to some extent. Still, as expected, mountain paths were difficult terrain, and a moment’s distraction could end in being buried past one’s ankles in snow. The cold persisted, but the physical demand of walking in unfamiliar conditions helped gradually warm Naoya’s whole body. “Are you okay, KenKen? Don’t push yourself if your leg hurts, okay?” “Yeah, I’m fine…,” Sasakura muttered, staring at the ground. “Looks like someone came through here before us.” There were fresh footprints in the snow just in front of him. Takatsuki nodded. “It looks like they belong to a child. Two… No, three, I think. Maybe they come here to play. Brings back memories, doesn’t it, KenKen? We used to play in a mountain like this, too.” A nostalgic smile broke over Takatsuki’s face as he spoke. Naoya cocked his head in confusion. “Huh? You both grew up in Setagaya, didn’t you? Are there mountains around there?” “Oh, no, it was a mountain by my family’s vacation home. We used to go when we were kids during summer breaks. The house was in Karuizawa, totally surrounded by forest. We’d catch bugs from morning till night, pretend we had secret bases, and one time we got lost in the woods and all the adults came looking for us.” “You, getting lost?” “We were really young then. Oh, that’s right! At the time, in the forest, KenKen—” “Akira. Isn’t that it?” Sasakura interrupted before Takatsuki could finish what he was saying. A short distance ahead, the path started sloping downward. A shallow stream weaved its way through the snowcapped trees. And beyond that, they could see the rocky gray mountain and an opening in its face that looked like the entrance to a cave. Just then… …the sounds of children screaming tore through the air. Alarm clear on his face, Sasakura sped up the path, Takatsuki and Naoya following behind him. Three children—two boys and one girl—came dashing out of the cave mouth, nearly falling over themselves in the process. They were somewhere around elementary or middle school age. “Hey! What happened?!” The kids had splashed their way across the stream and were rushing in their direction when they caught sight of Sasakura. Their faces and feet both froze. Naoya couldn’t blame them. Some middle-aged man they didn’t know—one who had a scary face, no less—had called out to them all of a sudden. Takatsuki appeared from behind Sasakura and addressed the children, too. “What’s wrong? We heard a scream; was there a monster?” When Takatsuki asked them that, stooped forward a little to meet their gazes, the children looked at one another. Trembling, the little girl opened her mouth. “…No. It wasn’t a monster. It was the demon.” “The demon?” “Yeah. We found it.” The two boys nodded along to her answer. The children had come to the cave as a test of courage. The hunting club had mentioned doing something like that themselves. For the young people of Sakai, the demon cave was probably that type of place—somewhere to sneak off to without telling the adults, somewhere they went when their usual games had gotten boring and they wanted to do something just a little bit scary. It was a special place to play, even to kids who had seen it countless times. “A few days ago, there was an earthquake. We were talking about how we hoped the cave didn’t collapse, so we decided to come look. We thought it would be a good test of courage even though it’s winter. So we went in there and saw that the shrine inside was broken, and—” “And the demon’s bones had fallen out! Well, its head anyway!” “My grandma wasn’t lying! She told me ‘The skull of a slain demon is in that shrine!’ I’ve never seen anything like that before! It was so cool!” Brimming with excitement, the two boys chimed in as well. “A demon skull?” Takatsuki asked. “You saw that?” “Yeah! It was just like Grandpa said! There was even a mark on its forehead where its horn was broken off!” At that, Takatsuki’s brow furrowed a little. To the children, he said, “Got it. Now, we three are going to go check it out, so you all should head home. Make sure you keep warm; you don’t want to catch a cold.” Takatsuki started walking. Making good use of the snow boots, he stepped right into the stream like the children had. Sasakura and Naoya trailed after him. On the other side of the water, there was something of a small clearing. With the mountain rising up to fill the entire space behind it, the clearing almost felt like a movie set. The children’s snowy footprints, overlapping and in disarray, seemed to be urging them toward the dark, open mouth of the cave. The entrance was about ten feet wide and six feet high. A thin rope—like the ones strung across Shinto shrines—had been hung at the top of the opening. Strangely, just inside the cave, someone had placed a large rock that was approximately Naoya’s size. Though the gaps on either side of the rock were big enough for an adult to fit through, it was impossible to see past the rock into the inner part of the cave itself. It was like someone had obstructed the entrance on purpose. No, Naoya thought. That’s not it. What the rock was blocking wasn’t the way into the cave—it was the way out. That idea came unbidden, and it was hard to shake. It was said the skull of a defeated demon was enshrined inside the cave. Didn’t that mean the demon had been sealed inside? Beheading the monster wasn’t enough to keep it from ever coming back to life, so they had to block the exit and hang a talisman. That thought gave the murky darkness on either side of the large rock an oddly sinister aura, and Naoya’s feet froze without his telling them to. As if he could sense something, too, Sasakura also came to a halt in front of the cave. Takatsuki, on the other hand, performed nothing more than a cursory look around before slipping past the rock and into the cave’s interior. “H-hey!” Sasakura watched him go with exasperation all over his face, but that turned into resignation as he went in after Takatsuki. For a moment, Naoya hesitated. Then, deciding he also didn’t like the idea of waiting outside by himself, he followed Sasakura. Skirting around the rock at the entrance, he set foot inside the cave. The second he was over the threshold, the air seemed to grow heavy, and Naoya almost stopped walking again. Perhaps because there was no way for it to circulate, the air felt somewhat stagnant—as though it had been sitting unchanged in the dim cave since the moment that demon had been sealed inside. Naoya’s breath stuttered. He could hardly believe Takatsuki had merely strolled through it without any signs of worry. Reluctantly, he proceeded deeper into the darkness, thinking the professor was probably oblivious in more ways than one. Visibility was limited but not totally absent inside the cave, which only reached about ten feet back. The walls and floor were rough, but the space felt more artificial than naturally formed. At the rear, someone had placed another rock, this one around waist-high and shaped vaguely like a pedestal. The shattered remnants of a shrine littered the ground in front of the pedestal. It had likely sat on top of the rock originally, before tumbling down and breaking. Among the collapsed shrine fragments, they could see smallish hunks of stone, which may have been responsible for knocking the structure to the ground. And there, beside the debris, something else had fallen—something that wasn’t a rock. Straining to make out the object in the low light, Naoya almost gasped in shock when he recognized it. It was a demon’s head—a skull. Lying on its side and stained the color of dirt, the skull was half wrapped in some faded red cloth. Its empty, hollow eye sockets stared up at them from where its fabric covering had come loose. The skull seemed to have been kept inside the shrine but was thrown from it when it collapsed. Without hesitation, Takatsuki reached out and picked it up, fabric and all. He pulled the murky red—the color of dried blood—cloth away from the skull gently. The legend stated that the demon was killed by having the horn broken from its forehead and its head cut off. There was indeed a hole in the demon’s skull. Countless fissures splintered out from the site, which looked a bit sunken in. It gave the bone, which was devoid of flesh and skin, a resentful countenance. The jaw was slightly open, and the oddly misaligned teeth seemed almost to gnash at the air, as if at any moment right there in Takatsuki’s grasp, the skull would wail with bitter hatred. “Hey,” Sasakura said, his voice low. “Akira. That’s…” “Yeah. Probably. I think so, too.” The professor nodded and looked at Sasakura. “What is it?” Still cradling the skull in both hands, Takatsuki answered Naoya’s question. “This isn’t demon bone.” “Huh? Then—what? It’s a fake?” “No. It’s human.” “Eh…?” Takatsuki held the skull aloft, staring into its gaping sockets at eye level. “This isn’t some demon’s skull. It’s ordinary human bone.” Though Naoya had no idea how they had ended up in such a situation, they had no choice but to call the police once they found what they believed to be human remains. Their cell phones were out of range in the cave, so they returned to the village, where Takatsuki explained the situation to a resident and asked to borrow their phone. He suggested eating their sandwiches while they waited for the police to arrive. They walked back to the car for an early lunch. Takatsuki really did seem to have nerves of steel, calmly eating his sandwich after handling human bones—even if he had been wearing gloves at the time. In the end, however, thinking it would be a waste not to finish the food he was given, Naoya ate his entire sandwich as well. By the time the police showed up, the area was in quite an uproar. Locals wondering what the hell was going on and apparent rubberneckers from nearby gathered, following the police and Naoya’s group back to the cave. The two officers who responded to their call goggled in awe when they learned Sasakura was a detective with the Metropolitan Police Department. “Huh?! Why is the MPD here?! Did you get an anonymous tip or something?” “No, I’m just here on vacation.” “Finding human remains even though you’re on vacation; now, that’s something! Your detective’s intuition kicked in, huh?” “No. I would have liked this to stay a regular vacation, actually… Dammit, I’m definitely gonna get chewed out if my boss hears about this.” Sasakura started grumbling, and Naoya felt a little bad for him, seeing as this was supposed to be his chance to travel and recover from his injury. Takatsuki and Naoya were made to wait outside the cave while Sasakura took the two officers inside to explain the situation. On the other side of the little stream, the crowd of onlookers had spread out along the bank. They were probably keeping some distance so as not to end up in the way of the investigation, but the mildly amusing result was that it made the stream look like some kind of force field. Naoya leaned over to Takatsuki and spoke in a low voice. “Um, does this mean…that this is a murder case?” “I’m not sure. The skull looked quite old, but their actual age and whether there was any criminal activity involved can’t be determined without a proper investigation.” “Isn’t the skull kind of like a sacred object, since it was enshrined? Is it okay to just take something like that out and run tests on it?” “Mmm, well, that is a bit of a complex question of ethics. But since it’s been found, they really don’t have a choice. It’s no different than if we’d found a corpse. They can’t just put it back and call it a day. Besides, there’s a chance they could find out who it belonged to.” “I guess that makes sense.” Just as Naoya said that— A commotion broke out on the other side of the stream. They heard an angry voice yelling and saw a rift open in the throng of onlookers. An old man had pushed his way through the crowd. His hair and beard were both pure white, and he carried a cane in one hand despite his tall, sturdy build. Beneath his stark facial hair, the man’s face was as grim and forbidding as a gargoyle’s. He lumbered across the stream, ranting and raving at an impressive volume. “What the hell are you all doing here?! Don’t you know you risk Onigami-sama’s divine wrath if you enter his cave without permission?!” “You wouldn’t happen to be Mr. Kitou, would you?” Takatsuki asked. The Kitou family was said to be the ones who enshrined the demon in the cave. The old man nodded. “That’s right! My family has worshipped Onigami-sama in this cave for generations! Outsiders can’t just barge in here and touch it as they please!” “I’m very sorry about that. However, some children who came here on a test of courage found that the shrine was destroyed by the recent earthquake and that the bones had fallen out of it. By the looks of things, the remains might be human, so we had no choice but to report it. I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion.” Takatsuki’s tone was the epitome of politeness. Hearing the words test of courage, Mr. Kitou’s eyebrows shot up. He glared over his shoulder across the stream, where the three children from before were watching among the adults. They ducked down, cowering away from his gaze. Just then, the crowd opened up again. “Father!” The second figure to emerge from the onlookers was a petite, slender woman in her late twenties or early thirties. She hesitated briefly at the water’s edge before seeming to brace herself and stepping right into the stream. The woman lost her footing slightly as she made to climb out on the opposite bank. The old man held out a hand to steady her. “What are you doing here, Miwako?!” “You ran out of the house looking all strange, Father… And then everyone was saying a corpse was found in the demon cave, and the police were on the way. I’m here because I was worried.” “It’s not a corpse—just some bones! These men desecrated Onigami-sama’s shrine! I don’t care if they all end up cursed!” “Please calm down, Father. Try not to shout so much…” The woman he had called Miwako tried hurriedly to calm down Mr. Kitou. Sasakura and the local police came walking out of the cave. “Hey, what’s going on out here?” “Oh, KenKen. Everything taken care of inside?” “Yeah. They’re gonna take the remains back to test their age and origin.” Mr. Kitou’s eyebrows went skyward again. “Where do you think you’re taking Onigami-sama?! Give that back; it’s demon bone!” Carrying a bag with the skull inside it, one of the officers responded to Mr. Kitou. “Well, sir, we’ve heard the story about the demon head being enshrined in that cave for years from that detective there. But that aside, there’s a high probability these remains are human. As far as the police are concerned, we can’t just leave things as they are. We’ll run some tests, and if we determine that it is demonic in nature, we’ll make sure it gets returned to you.” “I’m telling you: It’s a demon! The story has been passed down for generations!” “As I’ve said, we’ll know for sure once we investigate.” No matter how much Mr. Kitou fussed and howled, the police officer’s response didn’t change. The two officers thanked Sasakura and headed back down the mountain path, bag of bones in hand. A stream of onlookers trailed after them, but several from the crowd remained, still watching from across the water. One of the stragglers…was Iinuma. He locked eyes with Naoya and gave a light wave as if to say hello. “Mr. Sasakura.” “Yeah. I see him.” Naoya called out to Sasakura instinctively, and the other man glowered fiercely in Iinuma’s direction. “I don’t think he’s been following us this whole time,” Takatsuki said. “I never saw him around the bed-and-breakfast… Well, it seems like he’s quite interested in me, doesn’t it?” Iinuma had probably just been hanging around the area and followed the patrol car he saw out of curiosity. Perhaps from his view of things, happening upon Naoya and the others was just a stroke of good luck. From Naoya’s perspective, though, it felt like being the victim of a bad prank. Sasakura turned to Takatsuki. “What do you wanna do? Rough him up a little while we have the chance?” “A detective shouldn’t be saying disturbing things like that. You can’t detain someone who’s just standing there, so just leave him be for now… Besides, there’s something I want to talk to that old man about.” With that, Takatsuki called out to Mr. Kitou, who was about to cross the stream and go home, presumably. “Excuse me! If you don’t mind, would you be willing to tell me the story of Onigami-sama?” Mr. Kitou and Miwako turned around, the former with a dubious glare and the latter with a puzzled expression. Unbothered, Takatsuki walked up to them, flashing his bright smile. “I teach folklore studies at a place called Seiwa University. Whether the bones in the cave belong to a demon or a human, it doesn’t change the fact that a legend about the demon has been passed down here. If you’d be so kind, I would love to hear all about it.” Unexpectedly, Mr. Kitou agreed to the professor’s request. “…Sakai’s demon legend has been something for this village alone, but after all that fuss, I doubt it’ll stay that way. That means it’ll be necessary to make sure the tale is told properly even to outsiders.” The old man decided he would tell them the legend back at his house, so the group followed him down the path in succession. Along the way, Naoya looked over his shoulder to find that Iinuma seemed to be following, too, but he tried his best to ignore the man at Sasakura’s urging. They had been told the Kitou house was the largest in the village, and that turned out to be rather an understatement. It was significantly bigger than any of the other homes and seemed pretty old, too. Sitting by itself on a hill overlooking the village, the house looked like it was half swallowed up by the mountains when viewed from below. It also had the sort of roof Takatsuki had pointed out earlier, though Miwako informed them it had been many, many years since anyone raised silkworms inside. “Now we make a modest living cultivating the land out back and get by on the money my husband sends us.” “Your husband doesn’t live here?” Miwako replied with a somewhat lonely smile to Takatsuki’s question. “No, he’s a researcher at a company in Tokyo. He’s busy, so he can only come home once in a while.” It turned out that Miwako was from Tokyo, and that was where she had met her husband, Masaomi. The two of them had lived in the city together for a while, but just last year, Masaomi’s mother—Mr. Kitou’s wife—passed away. They couldn’t let Mr. Kitou stay by himself, so Miwako had moved to Sakai to live with her father-in-law. “Masaomi wanted his father to come live with us in Tokyo, but…Father refused to be parted from Sakai. He’s quite stubborn.” “Miwako! Don’t talk about that nonsense!” Mr. Kitou looked over his shoulder to shout at her, but Miwako just shrugged a little like she was used to it and said, “Yes, all right.” The two of them seemed like a raging father-in-law and a shrinking violet of a daughter-in-law at first glance, but on closer inspection, they seemed to get along better than expected. They were led through the foyer, deeper into the house. The wooden-floored hallways were dimly lit, and the atmosphere inside felt stuffy. The building was probably pretty well sealed, since the area got so much snow. But for some reason, the stuffiness reminded Naoya of the air in the demon cave. He stared hard at Mr. Kitou’s back as the old man walked ahead of them. This house had prayed to the demon in that cave for a long time. This man’s ancestor killed the demon, decapitated it, and enshrined it in the cave. But now it was possible that the demon’s head was actually human. What the hell did it all mean? Miwako served them tea and snacks in the back room of the house, where they sat on the tatami floor to hear Mr. Kitou’s story. The hunting rifle lying beside the low table caused Naoya a great deal of concern at first, but Mr. Kitou explained that he had been cleaning the gun when a neighbor came to tell him the police were in town. He had rushed out of the house at the news, leaving the half-cleaned rifle on the floor. “The deer are always destroying the fields. After we’re done talking, I have to go check on them… And if I’m lucky, I’ll get us some dinner.” Realizing he meant the deer would become a meal, Naoya thought that made sense, considering they were living in the mountains. People in the city turned their noses up at food made from wild game, but in this village, shooting and eating deer was probably a common occurrence. “Now then, would you share the demon legend with us?” Munching away happily on one of the steamed yeast buns Miwako had set out, Takatsuki brought them back to the topic at hand. The old man let out a long, contemplative groan, crossed his arms, and started to speak. “It was a long, long time ago.” The story took place in a time when the village of Sakai was still called by its former name, Sakaimura. One day, a demon came to town. It was a hideous beast with a single large horn growing from its forehead. The villagers closed up their homes to try to keep the demon out. As a result, the demon went on a rampage in the village, attacking livestock and stealing what it could. The people who lived in this very house couldn’t bear to watch the town be reduced to rubble, so they invited the demon into their home. They plied the demon with food and alcohol, and satisfied, it fell asleep, whereupon the family bludgeoned it over the head with a millstone. The demon’s horn broke off, and the beast died, but the family feared the slain demon’s wrath. And so they cut off its head at once, tossing it down the waterfall in the back of the house. When they went to check the next day, they found the demon’s head had floated down the river and washed ashore in front of a mountain cave. The family then collected the head, built a shrine inside the cave to store it in, and changed their own surname to Kitou. “Ever since then, the Kitou family has always worshipped the demon enshrined in this land. By enshrining the demon, its calamitous power was transformed into a blessing that protected the Kitou household and Sakaimura. That’s why no one should set foot in that cave. If the demon is resurrected, it could bring disaster with it.” With that, Mr. Kitou’s story seemed to be concluded. Takatsuki had questions. “Do you know when exactly the demon-slaying part of the story took place?” “I’m not sure. No specific era was ever mentioned in the telling. Just ‘a long time ago.’” “I see. In other words, it’s passed down purely as legend. By the way—when I was talking to some other people about this earlier today, they told me this was once a family of moneylenders. Would that have been from before the time in the story?” “No, probably later. The Kitou family prospered under Onigami-sama’s divine protection. That’s why they loaned out the wealth they gained to the villagers.” “I also heard there were those who referred to this as a house full of man-eaters?” Mr. Kitou snorted derisively at that. “That’s just drivel made up by people who couldn’t pay back the money they owed. The land around here is limited, crops weren’t growing well, and there were many who lived in poverty. Anyone who couldn’t pay their loans back by the appointed date was apparently made to work hard manual labor for the Kitou household, and some resentful bastards spread those nasty rumors on account of it.” “I see, so there was no butchering and eating of humans after all! That is a bit disappointing, I have to say.” Sasakura’s hand shot out from the side to smack Takatsuki in the head when those words left his mouth. Naoya got to relax more with Sasakura around, since most of the “Voice of Reason” responsibilities fell to the older man. While Takatsuki rubbed his head, Naoya took the chance to ask Mr. Kitou a question. “We heard people from around here go to that cave often—children on dares, and things like that. Is the part about the demon’s retribution not as well-known?” “Everyone from Sakai knows everything I just told you. But the young ones are hopeless. They don’t believe in the story itself, for one thing, or in the existence of curses… The fact that you folks know the story of the demon cave is proof enough of that.” “Huh?” “For starters, this story wasn’t supposed to be told outside this village. The demon’s protection was for Sakai, and if outsiders learned about it, the village’s blessing would be snatched away. And look, that’s exactly what’s happened. Outsiders have stolen Onigami-sama’s head. If we all perish under his wrath, so be it.” The old man practically spat out his sentiment. It certainly was true that the police might never have gotten involved if Naoya, Takatsuki, and Sasakura hadn’t gone into the cave. “That was a fascinating story,” Takatsuki said. “Thank you very much for sharing it. Since we’re already here, would you allow me to investigate the cave just a little more? The demon’s head may have been taken away, but there might be something else to discover there.” “Like what? What else could there be?” “Well, who knows! Perhaps some item of the demon’s, or something used to enshrine it, or something that would tell us how long ago the shrine was built.” “…There’s nothing like that there. Even if the head is gone, it’s not a place for outsiders to go waltzing in whenever they’d like.” Glaring at Takatsuki, the old man gave him a flat refusal. “We’re done talking. Don’t ever set foot near that cave again, you understand?” With that, Mr. Kitou grabbed his rifle, muttered “I’m going to the fields” to Miwako, and left. After Mr. Kitou was gone, Miwako apologized to Takatsuki with a slightly embarrassed expression. “Um, I’m sorry for how rude my father-in-law has been.” “Not at all. I think I’m the one who has been impolite,” Takatsuki replied. Miwako held the small tray she had used to serve tea in her arms and sighed quietly. “He’s not a bad person. When I first started living here, some of the neighbors judged me for being from the city, but he stood up for me, saying, ‘Don’t treat my daughter-in-law like an outsider!’ He’s stubborn and he’s blunt…but he’s kind.” Somehow or other, that impression had come across. When Miwako had almost slipped trying to cross the stream in front of the demon cave, the arm Mr. Kitou held out to steady her had been a gesture of concern. “…But isn’t it hard? Living here alone with that old man, apart from your husband. The way of life is totally different than in Tokyo, too, right?” At Sasakura’s question, Miwako smiled and shook her head. “I was totally lost at first, but I’ve gotten used to it. Life here isn’t bad at all. Besides, I lost my parents at a young age, so it’s nice to have a sense of family. I’m glad I get to live with my father-in-law. I do often wish Masaomi was here, too, but…he’s busy with work, so it can’t be helped. He wasn’t even able to come home this past New Year’s, in the end.” “Not even then?” For someone to be that busy seemed improbable. No matter how hectic work was, the average company would be closed at year’s end and over the holiday. “Apparently, the timing overlapped with a sudden overseas business trip. It seems like he’s always holed up in the lab, and I worry about his health.” “Does he contact you regularly? Over the phone or through e-mail?” “Masaomi has never liked talking on the phone. He says it doesn’t feel natural to converse with someone who isn’t there in front of him. He does send e-mails, though, and he has mine and Father’s favorite foods delivered to the house.” “Then why don’t you go to Tokyo to visit him? Your father-in-law would be fine by himself for a day or two, I’m sure.” Miwako looked just a little excited at Takatsuki’s suggestion for a moment before giving them another awkward smile. “…No, I don’t want to be a nuisance.” As she spoke, she turned her head to look at the chest of drawers in the corner of the room. A framed picture placed on top of the dresser showed Miwako, Mr. Kitou, and two other people—an older woman and a young man with glasses. The man was probably Masaomi—and the woman, his departed mother. With his slender features, Masaomi resembled his mother more than his gargoyle-like father. “It’s okay. If I wait, Masaomi will come back someday. He’ll come home to this house, to Father and me.” It sounded like Miwako was trying to convince herself more than her guests. For some reason, Naoya started to doubt that Miwako and Masaomi shared equal affection for each other. The situation made it seem like Miwako was being taken advantage of as a caretaker for Mr. Kitou. Work demands aside, wasn’t it a bit cruel not to come home for New Year’s and not even call? If it turned out that Masaomi was actually living in Tokyo with another woman or something like that, it would be absolutely awful for Miwako. But in the end, these were the affairs of someone else’s family. It really wasn’t a matter for outsiders to butt into. Neither Takatsuki nor Sasakura seemed to have any intention of getting further involved, either, so perhaps it was time to head home. “Ah, that’s right. The waterfall from the story earlier—does that actually exist? The one the demon’s head was thrown into.” They were in the foyer, being shown out by Miwako, when Takatsuki asked that question. Miwako nodded. “Yes, it’s in the mountains behind the house. We call it a waterfall, but it’s not especially high… Would you like to go see it?” “Could I?!” Takatsuki lit up. Seeing his childlike wonder, Miwako hurriedly looked to the side, holding back with what seemed like significant effort from bursting into unintentional laughter. “P-Professor Takatsuki, you’re really passionate about your research, aren’t you…? Ah, please, follow me. I’ll lead the way.” Miwako stepped outside, still suppressing a smile. Behind the house, a field had been created by carving out a section of the mountain. They could see Mr. Kitou, hunting rifle in hand, walking through a grove of trees around the field. He froze when he saw them, so Miwako called out loudly, “I’m showing them the waterfall!” It looked like the old man gave a slight nod in response. After a trek of about five minutes into the mountain, the waterfall came into view. The flow of water came down from farther up the slope and cascaded over a cliff directly ahead. Naoya had been picturing a small stream of water trickling down a rock face at most, but in actuality, the falls comprised a considerable amount of water that splashed and roiled like rapids at the bottom. Their height, however, was not especially great—perhaps about fifteen feet—just as Miwako had said. If the legend was correct, the stream by the demon cave could be traced back to this waterfall. “The water level is actually quite low right now, because of the season. In the summer, the falls are even more robust. When Masaomi first brought me to this town, he told me this was a hidden gem that only the people of Sakai knew about.” Interest clear on his face, Takatsuki peered out over the cliff to the base of the waterfall. “This is amazing! That cave, this waterfall—all these well-known local places that people from out of town have never heard of! Doesn’t the pool at the bottom seem like it would be fun for kids to swim in during the summer?” “Oh no, it’s rather deep, and just beneath the falls, the current can draw you under the surface, so I think swimming in it would be pretty dangerous. Also, since it relates to the demon legend, it’s not generally somewhere anyone wants to go. Not many people would want to swim in waters where a demon’s head was discarded, right?” “You think so? I would be thrilled, wondering if I might see the ghost of just a demon’s head. Plus, it’s fun to imagine how the head would have bobbled around the base before eventually floating down the stream! Ooh, I wonder how much blood there was. Is there maybe some element to the story about the demon’s blood dyeing this pool deep red? That sort of thing is quite common in folklore, you know!” “U-um, well… I’m not sure. I haven’t heard of one.” Miwako stared at Takatsuki, whose glittering gaze was fixated on the water with an indescribable expression. Refraining from saying what he would have liked to say—“I’m sorry, this guy is just a bit of a weirdo”—Naoya settled for tugging back on the professor, who was leaning so far forward he looked like he could fall over the edge at any moment. He wished the man would act a bit less like an overexcited child, given that he was thirty-five. Then, suddenly, Takatsuki frowned. “Hmm. That man is still around.” “Huh?” Following Takatsuki’s line of sight, Naoya spotted Iinuma near the pool, apparently taking pictures of the waterfall. When he noticed them watching, he waved like he was greeting friends. “Yo! I was just wandering around here and happened to find this place. Can you believe it? It’s nice to do some landscape photography now and then!” Iinuma yelled up at them over the noise of the falls. Naoya felt like they had acquired a stalker—exactly how long was this man planning on tailing them? Takatsuki patted Naoya gently on the back. “Don’t let him get to you, Fukamachi. Guys like that, they hang around for a while, but before long he’ll find something else to do… This isn’t the first time I’ve experienced something like this. People who won’t stop asking questions, people who want to write ridiculous stories—this world has no shortage of them. But when they don’t understand any of the answers they find, or the stories they write are suppressed and never see the light of day, they all eventually get fed up.” Thinking back, Naoya remembered Sasakura saying something similar to him the first time he had a run-in with Iinuma. Something about that not being a new phenomenon in Takatsuki’s life. There must have been other people like Iinuma who had snooped around Takatsuki and written nonsense articles about the incident in his past. And without a doubt, Takatsuki’s father had crushed those stories, too, before anyone ever saw them. “But if he starts harassing you again like he did yesterday, tell KenKen or me right away, okay? I would hate for you to be bothered on my account.” “…Yes. I understand.” All Naoya could do in response to Takatsuki’s earnest gaze was nod. The thought of Iinuma continuing to buzz around the professor like a fly for a while longer was awful, but there wasn’t much to be done at present. “Hey,” Sasakura said. “Isn’t it about time we get out of here? That weirdo is around, and I’m beat.” “You’re right.” Naoya turned, ready to follow after Sasakura, who had already started turning back the way they came. But realizing right away that Takatsuki wasn’t with them, Naoya looked back. “Professor? We’re leaving.” “Oh, yeah, just a minute. There’s something over there—” Takatsuki was still peering down into the pool of water below. Just as Naoya was about to tell him it was dangerous to lean that far out when there was no fence, a sudden, thunderous boom rent the air. Everything happened quickly. Naoya flinched instinctively—for a split second, he had no idea what the noise was, because he had never heard it before. The sound reverberated in his ears, and he realized almost immediately that it was a gunshot—Mr. Kitou’s hunting rifle. But before any of them could blink, a second sound filled the air. A horrible, dreadful noise, worse than any gunfire. The cacophony of wings—many, many wings. A flock of crows had been startled by the gunshot. The jet-black mass of feathers took off in unison from a surprisingly close cluster of trees, scattering through the air just overhead, almost low enough to touch. “…Professor!” Through it all, Takatsuki was still next to the cliff’s edge. One moment, he stood ramrod straight in fear—and the next, he was lurching sideways. “Akira!” Racing over the snow-covered ground, Sasakura reached out with one desperate hand. All at once, an image popped into Naoya’s mind. One that should have had nothing to do with the scene in front of him. Takatsuki’s office. The paper dolls, fluttering almost gracefully toward the floor, swept up in a sudden gust of wind. As he tumbled over the precipice, Takatsuki looked exactly like those dolls. “Akira!” Sasakura shouted, and Miwako shrieked. Down below, Iinuma was yelling something, too. Coming back to himself with a jolt, Naoya hurried to look over the cliff next to Sasakura. For a heart-stopping second, he couldn’t see Takatsuki at all. But then he spotted a flicker of something under the falls that looked like the professor’s coat. Iinuma yelled again—“You gotta be kidding me!”—and Naoya saw him jumping into the pool and swimming toward Takatsuki. He had managed to pull Takatsuki out from under the cascading water and was attempting to swim back toward the shore. Then, suddenly, both Iinuma and Takatsuki disappeared below the surface as if something beneath the water was trying to hold them down. The current would pull you under, Miwako had said. Iinuma was struggling to keep his head above the water. At this rate, both of them would drown. “…Shit!” Sasakura tore off his down jacket and shoved it into Naoya’s arms. Just like that, he jumped off the cliff into the pool. “Mr. Sasakura!” Naoya could see him, along with the desperate Iinuma, tugging Takatsuki toward the bank. He was paddling through the current with one arm while the other held on to the professor. “This way! We can get down to the bottom through here!” Miwako grabbed Naoya’s arm. Clutching Sasakura’s jacket, Naoya took off down the mountain path behind Miwako at a run. Mr. Kitou appeared from out of a grove of trees along the way, shouting, “What happened?!” Miwako explained, and the old man’s face immediately blanched. “Go this way! It’s faster!” He pointed to a narrow staircase that had been built into the cliff. The stairs were covered in snow and made for treacherous footing, but Naoya flew down them to arrive near the base of the waterfall. “Professor! Mr. Sasakura!” Sasakura had only just made it to the shore. He was trying unsuccessfully to shove the unconscious Takatsuki up onto land first. Stripping the professor of his waterlogged coat, he tried again. Rushing over, Naoya and Miwako grabbed on to Takatsuki’s arms and clothes and pulled. Together, they managed to haul him ashore and lay his completely soaked form out on its side. Looking down, Naoya jolted in surprise. Dragging Takatsuki out of the water had caused his sweater to ride up slightly, exposing a small section of his back. Naoya could see them, just a little—the scars carved into Takatsuki’s pale-blueish skin. He reached out to pull the sweater back into place without even thinking about it, feeling like he had done something wrong, somehow. When he did, his hand brushed against Takatsuki’s skin, which was shockingly cold. “P-Professor? Professor, are you okay?!” Giving Takatsuki a small shake earned no response. He can’t be, Naoya thought, but a loud sloshing noise drew his attention. Sasakura, with Takatsuki’s coat in his grasp, was crawling up out of the pool, Iinuma following behind him. Sasakura had one hand pressed to his left leg. Something red was oozing out from between his fingers, and Naoya gasped. “Mr. Sasakura, your leg…! It’s bleeding!” Instead of replying, Sasakura went to his knees next to Takatsuki, turned the man over onto his back, and started to check for breathing and a pulse. Eventually, he slapped Takatsuki lightly on the cheek several times before letting out a long, trembling breath. “…Just unconscious. He’s breathing, and I got a pulse.” Naoya felt his entire body sag in relief at those words, like a puppet with its strings cut. Glancing to his side, he saw a shivering Iinuma wringing water out of his own coat. He had been the first person in the pool after the professor fell. If Iinuma hadn’t gotten Takatsuki’s head above water that quickly, he might have drowned. “…I didn’t expect that. You, saving someone.” “’Scuse me?” Teeth chattering, Iinuma stared at Naoya. “You idiot. You know, if that guy died, all my hard work would be for nothing… Besides.” Iinuma suddenly cut himself off. “Besides, what?” Naoya prompted, and the journalist scowled. “Shuddup! I’ve just had more than enough of seeing people drown in front of me, okay?! Dammit, getting in the water in the middle of winter is no joke!” With that, Iinuma picked up his camera and phone, which he had tossed to the side before jumping in after Takatsuki, checking that they weren’t damaged. Naoya blinked, feeling like his impression of Iinuma had just changed a little bit. He had thought the man was nothing but a lowlife, but perhaps even Iinuma possessed hidden depths of his own. “Anyway, why did Teach suddenly fall off the cliff like that? Also, is there something on his back? I think I got a peek just before, but—” Without warning, Iinuma reached out midsentence toward Takatsuki. Realizing he was aiming for the professor’s clothes, Naoya hurriedly made to stop him. Before he could, however, Sasakura slapped Iinuma’s hand away hard. “The hell? That hurt! What’s with you?! I just wanted to look a little!” “…No. Don’t touch him.” Sasakura returned Iinuma’s churlish glare with his own ferocious gaze. Looking briefly intimidated, Iinuma quickly switched to a snide smile. “Oh-ho, what’s with the attitude? You know I saved that guy’s life, right?” “I’m grateful for that. But did you forget how I dragged both you and Akira out after that?” “Is that what happened? I don’t remember it at all.” Sasakura continued to scowl at the other man, who just sneered. Well, he was still Iinuma—and still a jerk—after all. “U-um…?” Unable to fully follow what was going on by herself, Miwako interjected in a confused tone. Her voice startled Naoya into looking back down at Takatsuki. Even though his life didn’t appear to be in danger, they had to get him somewhere else quickly. At that point, Mr. Kitou finally made his way to the bottom of the cliffside stairs. “Hey, is everyone okay?! Come on, let’s bring him to the house!” With only one good leg, the old man had probably struggled with the staircase. He was staggering in their direction when he called out. Shooting one more glare at Iinuma, Sasakura lifted Takatsuki up in his arms without a word. With Naoya’s help, they managed to carry Takatsuki back to the Kitou residence. Iinuma followed them, but not even Sasakura was going to stop him. He was drenched, too, and everything else aside, he had helped save Takatsuki’s life. Miwako set about drawing a hot bath and preparing a room for them immediately. She brought them a large stack of towels and two kerosene space heaters. Sasakura and Iinuma began drying themselves off around one heater, and Takatsuki was laid out by the other. Naoya decided to try using one of the towels to dry Takatsuki off a little for the time being, but he got the feeling nothing would really make a difference unless they got him out of his wet clothes. “Um, are you sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance?” Miwako was looking down at Takatsuki with concern, but Sasakura shook his head. “He’s just unconscious, so he’ll wake up soon if we just leave him be. Could I borrow your first aid kit later, though?” “Y-yes, of course. I’ll go get it.” She left the room, and Naoya looked at Sasakura. “Is your leg okay? The wound opened up, didn’t it?” “It’s fine. I just need to sterilize it.” Not surprisingly, Sasakura didn’t look great. Naoya could hear his teeth chattering, which made sense for someone who had jumped into a snowy mountain stream in the winter. Iinuma had been sneezing repeatedly for a short while, as though he had already come down with a cold. “…Hey. I laid a futon out in the next room. After you’ve changed him, put the professor to bed.” Mr. Kitou appeared and handed an old kimono to Naoya, who accepted it gratefully. “Thank you. I’m sorry for troubling you like this…” “Don’t be. He fell because of the gunshot, didn’t he? That makes me the one who’s responsible for the trouble. With things as they are—you’ll stay here tonight.” The old man withdrew after delivering that blunt sentiment. As if they were taking turns coming and going, Miwako showed up immediately after that to let them know the bath was ready. Iinuma stood up, sniffling and sneezing. Sasakura got to his feet as well, but before heading for the bath, he went over to Naoya and spoke in a quiet voice. “Listen. Can I leave changing Akira’s clothes to you?” “Huh…?” “Sorry, but I’m at my limit. I need to warm up some, or it’ll be bad… Besides, I don’t want that guy around when Akira gets changed.” Glancing in the direction that Iinuma had just gone, Sasakura continued. “Just wipe him down and change him. I’d actually rather bring him into the bath to get warm, too, but there’s no way I could physically support an unconscious person right now… Sorry, thanks.” With that, Sasakura left for the bath. Alone in the room with Takatsuki, for a moment, Naoya was at a loss. He spent it wishing the professor would just wake up already, but Takatsuki didn’t show any signs of stirring. When Takatsuki had collapsed in the past, Naoya had asked Sasakura how long it typically took for him to regain consciousness. The answer was: It varied. Sometimes he woke up after only an hour; other times he was out for more than half a day. “…Ugh, fine.” He reached for Takatsuki’s clothes, praying the man would at least stay unconscious while Naoya was changing his outfit. It was difficult, but eventually he got every sodden, clinging article of clothing off Takatsuki. His body was still freezing to the touch and trembled minutely. It would probably be dangerous for his body temperature to drop any lower. After dragging the space heater a little closer, Naoya started to wipe the professor dry, rubbing hard with the towel to warm him. Even then, Takatsuki didn’t so much as twitch, and Naoya felt like nothing he did could possibly wake him. According to Sasakura, when he was like this, Takatsuki was like an overloaded circuit breaker with a blown fuse. Still, Naoya thought, this level of vulnerability was a bit too much. When he was done with Takatsuki’s front, he hesitated for a second, then turned the unconscious man over onto his stomach. Then, at last, Naoya had an unimpeded view of the scars on Takatsuki’s back. They were just as Ruiko had described them before. Like marks left behind by wings being torn off. His skin had been peeled off in two long, narrow triangles that started over both shoulder blades and extended down close to his hips. That was what Naoya had been told, but the reality was so much more terrible than he had imagined. He could hardly bear to look. There was a distinct divide between the unharmed part of Takatsuki’s back and the scars, which were sunken in where sheets of his flesh had been torn away. They were the reddish-brown color typical of old wounds, but against the professor’s otherwise pale, unmarred skin, they seemed like deep, filthy stains that could never be washed away. Jagged around the edges, like Takatsuki’s skin had been removed with tremendous force, the scars—already more than two decades old—still looked raw and painful. Naoya picked up a towel. He wiped the damp from Takatsuki’s back, repeating the motion over and over. He knew the scars wouldn’t disappear no matter how many times he rubbed at them, but he kept scrubbing anyway, fighting the urge to cry. If it weren’t for these scars, Takatsuki’s life might have been a little different. Perhaps his mother would never have become obsessed with the idea that her child had been stolen away by tengu, and maybe for Takatsuki himself, living would have been just a bit easier. But once a scar was carved into the skin, it could never be erased. The past couldn’t be changed. And as for Takatsuki’s past, there was no one who knew the truth of it. For the first time, thinking about that past—and about what awaited Takatsuki at the end of the road he walked—made Naoya feel afraid. Lifelong scars, indigo eyes, a frightening memory and intellect, and…an unusually intense fear of birds. Imagining who or what was responsible for all of those things was enough to make Naoya quake with fear. “…Seriously…what on earth happened to you…?” The professor’s prone, unmoving form couldn’t answer him. But then, even if he had been conscious to hear Naoya’s question—the one person who wanted an answer to it more than anything else was Takatsuki himself. Sasakura and Iinuma returned from the bath just as Naoya had finished wrangling Takatsuki into the kimono Mr. Kitou had brought. The two of them were also wearing kimonos, though Sasakura’s was quite short for his frame. “—Sorry,” Sasakura said, catching sight of Naoya’s face. “I owe you one.” He patted Naoya on the shoulder just once, lightly, with one big hand. Was his own expression that wretched? Naoya wondered, quickly looking down. “Open that for me, would you?” At Sasakura’s request, he slid back the screen door to the next room and helped move Takatsuki to the futon Mr. Kitou laid out. A short while later, Miwako brought them dinner. “I’m sorry it’s just basic dishes.” She looked terribly embarrassed, but both the warm soup and simple stewed sides tasted like comfort and seeped into every inch of their tired bodies. After they had finished eating, Sasakura and Iinuma both spread out their own futons and went right to sleep, obviously spent. Takatsuki didn’t seem like he would be waking up anytime soon, either. “Why don’t you take a bath, too, Fukamachi?” Miwako had returned to clear their dishes, and Naoya decided to follow her much-appreciated suggestion. Then, just as he was getting out of the bath, he realized far too late that there was something crucial he had forgotten to do. He had never contacted Ruiko’s family’s bed-and-breakfast. Naoya took out his cell phone in a panic, only to remember that he didn’t get service in Sakai. Finding Miwako in the kitchen, he asked to use the phone, which she agreed to with a smile. The house phone sat in a Western-style living room, and as he dialed the number for the bed-and-breakfast, Naoya was incredibly grateful that he had thought to record it in his cell, just in case. After three rings, the call connected. Ruiko answered it. “U-um… Miss Ruiko, it’s Fukamachi.” “Ah! Fukamachi! Where are you? I haven’t been able to get in touch with Professor Akira or Mr. Sasakura, and I didn’t know what to do! You didn’t even come back for dinner!” Ruiko’s voice blared through the receiver, and Naoya held the phone away from his ear for a moment. They had really worried her, it seemed. “I’m sorry. It’s just, um… There was an incident. It doesn’t look like we’re going to make it back to the bed-and-breakfast tonight.” “An incident? What happened…? Wait, why is it you calling and not Professor Akira?!” This is bad, Naoya thought as Ruiko’s voice rose in pitch. “Fukamachi— Did something happen to Professor Akira? Where’s Mr. Sasakura?” “Um, well…” If he answered honestly, she was bound to think they were in serious trouble. Naoya forced his clumsy tongue to move. “They’re…fine.” As the words left his mouth, Naoya was aware that he was telling a lie. They weren’t fine. Takatsuki was still unconscious, and Sasakura had been practically gray when he went to sleep. “It wasn’t anything serious. It’s just that the two of them are in the middle of something right now.” Naoya’s ears couldn’t discern when he himself was lying. His own voice didn’t distort. But in that moment, Naoya was decidedly a liar. “…You promise it’s not serious?” “Yes. I promise.” His voice came out as clear as ever, but Naoya’s face twisted with discomfort, and he covered it with his free hand. “…” On the other end of the call, Ruiko had fallen temporarily silent. Then he heard her voice through the receiver again. “…Hey. Fukamachi?” “Yes?” “He is actually coming back, right? Professor Akira?” “Eh…?” Naoya made out the faint sound of Ruiko sighing into the phone. “You know, I don’t know why, but sometimes I have this fear… This fear that Professor Akira is going to disappear someday.” Ruiko continued. “So every time I go to his office and see him sitting there smiling over a cup of cocoa, I feel so relieved. Like, thank goodness, he’s still here; it’s okay… He is okay, right? Professor Akira is going to come back, right?” “Miss Ruiko…” Feeling like there was an iron vise around his chest, Naoya laughed, grateful his face couldn’t be seen through the phone. “Gosh, where did that come from? Where on earth do you think he’s going to disappear to?” “Sorry, it’s just…” “Ah, that’s right, in your mind you picture Professor Takatsuki as an angel who had his wings clipped and fell from the sky. You think he’s going to return to the heavens someday?” “H-hey! Fukamachi!” Ruiko sounded a little flustered at having the thing she had said to him before brought up like that. Even she felt it was embarrassing, apparently. “I really didn’t picture you as a romantic, Miss Ruiko.” “W-well, excuse me for being a romantic! Even though I’m a bit too old for that now, you know!” “We’ll be back tomorrow,” Naoya said. Ruiko stopped talking, then asked once more as if to make sure. “You mean it?” “Yes. Please have some cocoa on hand for Professor Takatsuki. Mr. Sasakura and I will be fine with coffee.” “Got it. Tell him I’ll have some marshmallows set aside especially for him.” “I will. See you tomorrow.” After hanging up, Naoya had the urge to curl up into a ball right where he sat. He sighed. He ran his hands roughly through his still-wet hair, mussing it every which way, and when he finally hauled himself to his feet, he returned to the room where Takatsuki was sleeping. He peeked in at Sasakura and Iinuma as well, but they both seemed to be out cold. Naoya didn’t know what to do with himself, so he sat in a corner of Takatsuki’s room and hugged his knees to his chest. He was tired, but he had no desire to take out his futon and go to sleep. The conversation with Ruiko was probably to blame; suddenly, Naoya wished he was in Takatsuki’s office. The smell of a used bookstore, with the scents of cocoa and coffee mingling throughout. It was the smell of that room—the one that was familiar to Naoya now. And a smiling Takatsuki, sitting in a folding chair with both hands cupped around his blue mug. In Naoya’s memories, Takatsuki was almost always smiling. The expressionless man sleeping in front of him that very moment looked like an entirely different person. “…Please wake up soon, Professor.” Unable to bear the stillness of the room, Naoya broke it with a whisper. “Miss Ruiko was really worried. So was Mr. Sasakura… And me. So hurry up and open your—” Turning his gaze to Takatsuki as he spoke, Naoya jumped in surprise. Takatsuki was sitting up on the futon. Naoya hadn’t heard a sound. He had no idea how long the professor had been awake. A little embarrassed, he wondered if everything he had whispered to himself had been overheard. Half out of the covers, Takatsuki sat with his head drooping forward and eyes downcast. He had one hand pressed to his brow. “Professor…? Does your head hurt?” At the sound of Naoya’s voice, Takatsuki’s head swiveled abruptly in his direction. The eyes looking at him sideways from under the hand still held to his head were dyed a deep indigo. Those dark night-sky eyes stared, unblinking, directly at Naoya. In that moment, without knowing why, Naoya shuddered. That gaze—it felt like it could see straight through him. Utterly unlike Takatsuki’s usual eyes, they lacked even the merest hint of warmth. Ever so slowly, Takatsuki blinked. The night sky didn’t disappear while it was hidden behind his long eyelashes. If anything, an even deeper shade of indigo took its place, sending another shiver down Naoya’s spine. The hand on Takatsuki’s forehead lowered, making its way to the tatami floor. Then Takatsuki started crawling toward Naoya, his pace unhurried. Naoya jerked away, instinctively trying to flee, but felt his back thud against the wall. Something was wrong. This Takatsuki was not one he knew. It wasn’t just his face—even his presence felt like it belonged to someone else entirely. Was he having some kind of sleepwalking episode? Or— “P-Professor?” The next moment, Takatsuki was right there in front of him, his upper body making a long, slow arc into being upright. With his head tilted slightly to the left, and eyes filled with terrifying darkness, Takatsuki peered at Naoya. Reflexively, Naoya looked away. He had met Takatsuki’s eyes with his own countless times before, but just then, for some reason, Naoya was overcome with fear. No matter what, he thought, he couldn’t look into them now—but Takatsuki wouldn’t allow that. His face loomed in closer, until Naoya could feel the professor’s breath on his skin. The real, genuine night, harboring untold numbers of twinkling stars, stared straight into Naoya’s eyes. “…” Naoya stopped breathing. He had the same thought, every time he saw it: The darkness in that gaze was just like the sky above that midnight festival—the one he had stumbled into as a child. Takatsuki’s eyes opened up into that night, into a place Naoya could only think of as another world. If he looked too deeply into them, he would get dragged to a realm on the other side. He was certain of it. And now, through Takatsuki’s eyes, some other being was watching Naoya, peering into his face. The night was looking back. “P-Professor…” I need to bring him back, Naoya thought, only partially aware of what he was doing. Opening his mouth as if in a gasp, he dragged the air into his unwilling lungs and forced it back out with purpose. “Professor… Professor Takatsuki!” Right away, Takatsuki’s shoulders jerked. He blinked several times in succession, truly looking as if he had only just woken up. In the space of a second, the indigo had vanished from his gaze. “Wh…? Huh?” The murmured voice that came out of that mouth sounded like the normal, everyday Takatsuki. The eyes Naoya knew so well—big dark-brown puppy dog eyes—gaped at him. “Fukamachi? Huh, why—?” “You’re too close, Professor!” Naoya shoved Takatsuki away. The older man sputtered and yelled as a hand covered his face and pushed, hard enough to unbalance him, sending him toppling backward. “Th-that’s mean, Fukamachi! What’re you doing, all of a sudden?!” I should be the one saying that, Naoya thought. He wanted to ask Takatsuki what the hell had been up with him just now, but he got the feeling that wasn’t a good idea. So he reached out to Takatsuki, who was rubbing his nose from where he had fallen, and pulled him upright. And… “…Professor. Do you remember what happened?” …asked him that instead. Takatsuki seemed confused for a moment, then he looked around his surroundings. Understanding dawned on his features quickly. “This…is Mr. Kitou’s house, isn’t it? Did I collapse again?” “Yes, and not just that. You fell over the waterfall.” “The waterfall?!” “You sank underwater, but Mr. Sasakura and Iinuma rescued you.” “KenKen and that guy…? Whoa…” Takatsuki covered his face with both hands. Then, with a start, he looked down at himself, apparently noticing at last that he was wearing different clothes than before. “…Right, I…fell into the water… Um, and my clothes…?” “Ms. Miwako is washing them for you.” “No, I meant, er…” “—I’m the one who changed you.” “I see…” Clutching at the kimono near his chest, the professor hung his head. He knew that Naoya had seen his scars. “Professor…are you okay?” Takatsuki looked up, opened his mouth, then promptly shut it again. Then he smiled. “Where’s KenKen?” At those words, a fire that Naoya couldn’t quite name roared to life from the very depths of his chest. Takatsuki hadn’t answered his question just now. He had changed the subject on purpose. “Is KenKen okay? If he saved me, that means he had to swim. His wound could have opened, or he could have caught a cold—” “Professor.” Naoya cut him off. Takatsuki had stopped talking, but Naoya looked down, not knowing what to say next. He knew why the professor had changed the subject. Because when Naoya asked if he was okay, he had probably been about to say, “I’m fine.” Even though he definitely was not fine. It was just like the night before—when Sasakura asked the same question, Takatsuki insisted over and over that he was okay in that distorted voice. That was the type of person Takatsuki was: someone who lied about being okay when he wasn’t, just to spare other people’s feelings. But Takatsuki had also promised before that he would never lie in front of Naoya. And so when lying wasn’t an option, he deflected. It wasn’t that the professor was truthful 100 percent of the time. He just, for Naoya’s sake, was always careful about it. And it was making Naoya so, so mad. He knew very well how ridiculous that was. Taking offense to someone being thoughtful on his account was stupid. Besides, hadn’t he just done the exact same thing to Ruiko? He hadn’t wanted to worry her, so he lied. So then…why? Why was he this angry? “…Fukamachi, there’s no need for you to make that face, you know?” Takatsuki’s brows were drawn with discomfort, but he was looking at Naoya with a smile. Ah. So that’s it, Naoya thought. Because Takatsuki was always smiling. Even when he was the furthest from okay that he could be, he hid it all behind a smile so no one would see the darkness or fear he held inside. Even though Naoya already knew how much that cost him. “…Why?” The words started coming. “You… Why?” Lifting his head, Naoya glowered at Takatsuki, who looked taken aback. Naoya leaned forward, ignoring the professor’s shock, and simply let him have it. “Why…are you always so unreasonable, you idiot?!” “…Huh, wha—? M-me? Unreasonable? I’m not…” For a moment, Takatsuki was flustered, as if he couldn’t believe he was being scolded without warning. Naoya kept on going, full steam ahead. “You’re old enough to know better than to act so recklessly! It causes trouble for everyone around you! Even me! Do you realize how hard it was to carry and change you when you’re that needlessly tall?! And Mr. Sasakura had to swim in freezing cold water, and his wound reopened, and he’s completely exhausted and sleeping in the next room right now! Even though you couldn’t have known that a flock of birds was going to fly over us, it’s obviously a bad idea to lean that far over a cliff without a railing! Could you at least think about things like that?!” “Ah, um, I—I’m sorry; I’ll reflect…on my actions… Wait, KenKen’s wound reopened? Is he okay? That’s…” “I don’t know! You can ask him yourself later! And…when you’re not okay, could you just say so, please?! Don’t think you can get away with avoiding the question or glossing over things by not answering! That’s no different than lying! How do you not know that?! You’re thirty-five!” “Y-yeah, that’s true, but I don’t really think my age is relevant right now… Anyway.” Takatsuki gave Naoya a small smile. “I see. I’m sorry I made you worry so much.” Naoya didn’t reply at first. He remembered watching Takatsuki tumble over the waterfall, thinking his own heart might actually stop. Looking down with a sigh, he could only whisper his next words. “…You could have died.” “Yeah. I’m sorry.” “You can’t just apologize and make it all better… This is why I told you not to say irresponsible things like ‘I’m here for you’ and ‘I’m not going to let you go.’ If you had died… I would be all alone again.” Just the image of Takatsuki falling was enough to make Naoya’s hands shake. He had been so scared. The thought that this man had actually died—it had truly terrified him. “Fukamachi…” Takatsuki sat up straight. He faced Naoya head-on and bowed. “I’m sorry, Fukamachi. I’m so sorry for worrying you and causing you so much trouble.” “I told you: This isn’t something that can be solved with a simple apology.” “Yeah, I know. But I really do feel awful about it, and I don’t know what else to say, so for now, please accept my apology. Also… Umm… From now on, when I’m not okay, I’ll do my best to tell you that, if possible.” “Wait a minute. You’re just going to casually tack on ‘if possible’ like that? And what do you mean, you’ll do your best? You’re already trying to weasel out of it!” “Aw, come on! I’m an adult! Letting my student see that kind of failing isn’t cool! Let me put on a brave face at least a little.” “It’s especially uncool to pretend to be brave, you know.” “What, really? I’m sorry…” Takatsuki sulked, looking like a dog that had been yelled at. I can’t believe this guy, Naoya thought. “Professor, you basically believe that, as long as you apologize, you’ll be forgiven, don’t you?” “Yeah.” Takatsuki nodded, not even having the sense to look ashamed, and Naoya was floored. The professor got up, saying he was going to check in on Sasakura. He seemed completely back to normal. But even if he was…what on earth had been going on with him before? He had genuinely seemed like an entirely different person. The thought alone sent a chill down Naoya’s spine. Once before, Takatsuki had said that he and Naoya were walking paths that straddled the boundary between reality and the next world. Both of them had abnormal experiences in their pasts—and had become just a little bit unlike normal people. But what if the path Takatsuki was on was far closer to that other world than Naoya’s was? Maybe Takatsuki was in such a precarious position that he was liable to teeter over that boundary to the other side at any moment. Well, so what? Naoya thought, a petulant murmur in his chest. If it seemed like the professor was about to fall into that other world, all Naoya had to do was bring him back. Call his name, like he had just a little while ago. After all, Naoya was Takatsuki’s traveling companion down that between-worlds path. Takatsuki had chosen him. And so, as long as they made the effort to help each other down that road, as traveling companions should do, it would be okay. It was safe to stick a hand or two outside the line he had drawn around himself—only after meeting Takatsuki had Naoya been able to consider that a possibility. If his fellow traveler went too close to the other world, only moments away from disappearing into the darkness, a hand reaching out over that line would certainly be enough to grab his companion and pull him back. At least, that’s what Naoya wanted to believe. The next morning, after Sasakura woke up and put on the clothes Miwako had dried for him, he left in the car to take Iinuma to a doctor. The midwinter swimming excursion had been too much on him, it seemed. Iinuma ended up with a nasty cold, complete with a high fever that spiked overnight. Not helping him wasn’t an option, so Sasakura drove him to the hospital, saying he was also going to take the opportunity to get someone to look at his leg. “How come neither you nor Professor Takatsuki are sick, Mr. Sasakura? Are you just that tough?” “The average person doesn’t train the way I do. After the hospital, I’ll stop at the police station and ask if they learned anything about that skull from yesterday. When I’m done with all that, I’ll come back to pick you up, so until then, you two had better behave.” “Yep, got it. See you later, KenKen.” Iinuma already seemed too sick to walk on his own, so Sasakura half dragged him to the car with Takatsuki seeing them off. After they were gone, the professor turned to Naoya with a look of anticipation. Naoya got a bad feeling in his chest. “…Didn’t Mr. Sasakura just tell you to behave?” “I’m not planning on doing anything crazy, you know. But just sitting around here waiting is boring, don’t you think? So, Fukamachi—let’s go investigate this town’s demons together.” “Huh?” “I mean, while we’re here, we might as well, right?” Takatsuki gave him a bright smile and went to tell Miwako that they would be going out for a short while. Then he and Naoya stepped out into the village of Sakai. As usual, Takatsuki started by gathering information. Most of the people who stopped to respond to the professor’s friendly greetings were on the younger side—mothers of elementary school children, students, and the like. The majority of the older folks he called out to simply ignored him and kept walking. Takatsuki’s popularity with local housewives was unchanged, at least. They didn’t so much as hesitate to answer his questions. “Ah, the demon cave. I heard about all the commotion yesterday… But to think there were human bones enshrined inside? How awful.” “I mean, when I was a child, we used to go in there all the time, playing and showing off! Now I’ll have to make sure I tell my son he can’t play there anymore.” “Doesn’t it seem like the kids don’t really go to the cave much these days, though? Mine told me last time they went over that way, old man Kitou gave them such a scolding. Told them they’d be cursed if they played there.” “A bit late, don’t you think? Kids have always played at the cave.” “That man has been in such a foul temper lately. His son never even comes home anymore.” “You can say that again… I feel bad for Miwako, too, all alone with that obstinate old goat.” On the whole, the neighborhood ladies showed compassion for Miwako. They used to give her the cold shoulder, but recently, the town seemed to have accepted Miwako’s presence. When Masaomi was brought up in conversation, Takatsuki asked more about him. “Are Mr. Kitou and his son not on good terms? Does Masaomi not come home because they’ve had a fight or something along those lines?” “Their relationship is… Yes, well, it might not be so good these days. Masaomi went to college in Tokyo, and now he works there. It makes me wonder if he hasn’t finally given up on this town.” “Surely not! How could he, when his wife is here?” “But it seems the postman overheard those two fighting, you know! Masaomi wanted his father to move to Tokyo with him and Miwako, but the old man blew up on him! All ‘You’ve been in Tokyo too long; have you forgotten your life here? Don’t talk like an outsider!’” “I swear, outsider is that man’s favorite word. I wish he’d stop talking like we’re some old-fashioned, insular little community!” Just one of the happily gossiping ladies—slightly older than the rest—spoke up to discourage the others from talking about Mr. Kitou that way. “Well, I don’t really know what to say about that. My mother always says Mr. Kitou just wants to protect his family—and Sakai, too.” “Protect…his family and the town?” Takatsuki looked a bit puzzled, and the woman nodded. “By enshrining the Onigami-sama, the Kitou family has kept Sakai safe for a long time. I think, even if the bones in that shrine really are human, they must have belonged to a human who was evil enough to be a demon. If it’s for the sake of protecting people, there isn’t much of a difference between slaying a demon and slaying a terrible person, is there? For the Kitou family, protecting Sakai has probably become a matter of pride. That’s why, even to this day, they can’t help but take that sort of attitude toward people around here… If he could reconcile with his son soon, or if Masaomi and Miwako would have a child, Mr. Kitou could probably have some peace of mind.” As she spoke, the woman looked off toward the mountain where the shrine was. “I think he’s anxious, you know, because if things keep going like this, the Kitou family is going to die out. Lately, Mr. Kitou is always over there in front of the cave, putting his hands together like he’s praying—quite a few people have seen him at it. There’s a reason he hollers at anyone who goes near there now, even though he let kids play by the cave before. It’s because he wants to defend the authority of Onigami-sama and his own family. Since Masaomi won’t come back from Tokyo, like he’s forsaking his family, his father is just becoming even more headstrong.” Once they had more or less finished interviewing people, Takatsuki set his sights on the demon cave as their next destination. “Professor, we can’t. Mr. Kitou told you not to go anywhere near it, didn’t he?” “He did, but it’s not like I told him I wouldn’t,” Takatsuki replied, nonchalant. There it is, Naoya thought. His cunning side. Arriving at the cave, the first thing Takatsuki did was look around inside it. It appeared that the police had only collected the skull, leaving the broken shrine as it had been. The professor held up pieces of the shrine and examined them for a while. Then he picked up a bowl that was lying on the ground with the shrine fragments; it looked like a vessel used for offerings, and it was slightly chipped but mostly still intact. “Look at this, Fukamachi. It’s quite clean, isn’t it?” “Hmm…? Oh, that’s true; it is.” The white ceramic bowl Takatsuki held out for Naoya to see was almost entirely free of dirt and grime. It didn’t seem new by any means, which meant someone probably cleaned it on a regular basis. And who could that someone be, other than Mr. Kitou? “It seems the Kitou family patriarch has indeed been coming here to pray a lot recently.” “…Do you think it’s because of what that woman said earlier?” To defend his family’s authority. Not returning to Sakai meant Masaomi was abandoning his family and the village itself. Without him, the Kitou family would eventually be a thing of the past. Perhaps Mr. Kitou was praying at the shrine so often because he was afraid of that possibility. Naoya tried to picture it—the old man, in front of the demon shrine, in endless supplication. That figure, hands pressed together, praying that somehow, in some way, his son would come home to Sakai… It was like Mr. Kitou was casting a sort of curse. From Masaomi’s point of view, at least, it must have felt like one. “If Masaomi knows what his father is doing, that might just make him more reluctant to return. Even though Ms. Miwako is here.” Naoya thought Miwako should go back to Tokyo if her husband wasn’t going to return to Sakai. It would be better for her that way, even if she disagreed out of concern for her father-in-law. No matter how many e-mails or packages of her favorite foods she got, the situation wasn’t fair to Miwako at all. “I see, so that’s your interpretation, Fukamachi? Well…mine is a bit different.” “Huh?” Confused, Naoya looked at Takatsuki, who started to talk as he put the offering vessel back among the shrine fragments. “That woman from earlier said something interesting, didn’t she? ‘Even if the bones in that shrine really are human, they must have belonged to a human who was evil enough to be a demon.’ And she said that ‘slaying a demon and slaying a terrible person’ are the same. The human bones enshrined here—I wonder what kind of person they belonged to. Even though the police are looking into it, we probably won’t find that out at this point.” Getting to his feet, Takatsuki stared at the mouth of the cave. “There are various demon skulls and mummified remains out there. Ordinarily, they’re fakes, things like monkey skulls with cow horns attached. But the one here was human. That rock that was put in the entrance, the one that looks like it’s blocking it off—it might be just like the Chibiki no Iwa.” “What’s that?” “It’s from the Kojiki, in the Yomotsu Hirasaka tale. When the creator deity Izanagi visited the realm of the dead, he ended up being chased out by his wife, Izanami, and her army of the dead. To keep the dead hordes from invading, Izanagi put a huge stone—the Chibiki no Iwa—on the Yomotsu Hirasaka, which is the hill that connects the underworld to this one. Similarly, this rock might have been placed here to prevent any vengeful souls from leaving this cave. In other words, this cave was used to seal up people who died with malice in their hearts.” Come to think of it, Naoya had thought the same thing the first time he saw this place: The stone that seemed to be obstructing the entrance might have been there to keep the demon sealed inside from coming out. “If that’s the case…what is it that man is thinking when he’s out there praying?” Naoya hurried after Takatsuki as he walked out of the cave. He thought maybe they would be leaving, but Takatsuki started inspecting things outside instead. The professor ran a hand lightly across the mountain’s rocky face and examined the snowy ground. Looking closer, Naoya realized there were a number of monument-like stone structures. Most of them were large, engraved rocks—the figures carved into their surfaces might have been Buddhas or demons—but among them was a mound of stones that had merely been arranged in a pile. Crouching in the snow, Takatsuki gazed at the structures for a long time. Gently stroking his chin as he often did, he traced over the worn carvings in the larger stones and studied the simple, piled-up mound that sat beside the rest. The professor made some kind of quiet noise, and Naoya stared at him in surprise. He was pretty sure the man had just laughed. “Professor?” “Oh, how this world doth overflow with curses.” “Uh…?” Takatsuki looked up at Naoya. There on his face, as plain as day, was a smile. For some reason, Naoya shivered. Takatsuki stood up. “Shall we, Fukamachi?” “Huh? Where are we going?” “Well, to slay a demon.” Those words, exhaled on a breath that turned stark white in the cold, spread out through the winter mountain air and melted away. Takatsuki led them back to the Kitou house. When he asked Miwako, who greeted them, where her father-in-law was, she pointed them toward the tatami-matted room. Takatsuki announced himself outside the room’s sliding door, and the old man’s voice called from within for them to enter. It was warm inside the room, but somehow it still felt stuffy to Naoya. On the far side of the low table, Mr. Kitou was sitting and holding a brazier. He jerked his chin at the two of them, prompting them to take a seat. Takatsuki gave a bright smile and knelt down directly across the table from him, resting back on his heels. “Braziers are nice, aren’t they? So elegant. You don’t see them very often in Tokyo.” Mr. Kitou snorted. “Well, some outsiders used an awful lot of our kerosene last night. So I’m economizing.” “I’ll be sure to make up for that. We owe this family a great deal.” “We don’t need money. I’d rather you just get the hell out of here already.” “We will, as soon as our friend comes back to pick us up. But before that, why don’t we talk for a little while?” “Talk? About what?” “The demon legend told here in Sakai.” The old man’s thick eyebrows twitched. “I told you all about that yesterday. There’s nothing more to say.” “Yes, I’ve heard the folktale part of the story. But what I’m interested in are the actual events being concealed behind it.” “…What’re you talking about?” “Much folklore is based in real incidents that would be far too morbid to talk about in a straightforward manner. If someone is murdered in a village somewhere, and that’s how people talk about it, well, that’s just a regular old homicide. But if it’s a demon that gets killed? A beast? A monster? That’s a legend.” Takatsuki stared fixedly at Mr. Kitou as he spoke. “Mr. Kitou. Since the bones enshrined in that cave were human, it means the background for the demon legend circulated in this town is, quite simply, someone’s murder. Or rather—perhaps I should say it’s the murder of the ‘Other.’” “The Other…?” “People who aren’t considered members of a given community, or outsiders, in other words. Those are the Other. In this country, those who come from outside our communities are primarily met with one of two reactions: hospitality or murder. When outsiders receive a warm welcome, they’re treated like divine blessings. You could think of the goddess Toshigami as an example—a being that comes from elsewhere and brings good fortune to the community. Thus, the positive reception. Now then, how about those who are killed? Well—that, in its own way, could result in good fortune. That’s why the Other is killed.” With a fierce scowl, Mr. Kitou glared at Takatsuki. Unfazed, Takatsuki kept talking in his usual gentle voice, no different than if he were giving a lecture. “Are you familiar with the term rokubu killing? Rokubu refers to traveling Buddhist monks. They made pilgrimages all over Japan, leaving copies of the Lotus Sutra at different sacred sites. That kind of travel comes with expenses, meaning rokubu carried a lot of money. Rokubu killing is a folklore trope—it involves villagers killing rokubu to steal their money, which they would then use to amass a fortune. But those villagers’ children would then be born with the same physical characteristics as the rokubu, or speak in the rokubu’s voice, condemning their parents’ crime with things like, ‘It was on a night such as this that you murdered me.’ That’s the general format for many such stories.” “They’re just old folktales.” “That’s correct. They were probably told as stories of karmic justice. Their main focus was the divine punishment received as a result of killing the rokubu. However…don’t you think that this kind of story wouldn’t have been created in the first place if it weren’t for actual instances of outsiders being killed?” “…What are you trying to say?” “I think it must have happened relatively often throughout the country. That is, people who came from elsewhere being murdered for their money. These days, the police could be onto you in no time, but back then it was a different story. If a monk traveling all about the land disappeared partway through his journey, looking for him would be hopeless. Even more so for a missing ruffian or thief. Killing an outside invader who threatens the community is no different than slaying a demon. I believe this is the case in Sakai—the truth behind the demon legend that has been told here.” Takatsuki continued unflinchingly. “I’ve been told that the Kitou family members were moneylenders. They had the biggest house in Sakai because they were the richest. I’ve also heard the Kitou family was called a house full of man-eaters. This house is the only one in the village that stands alone from the others, isn’t it? I suspect the Kitou family’s role in Sakai—ah, in Sakaimura, rather—was to offer hospitality to visitors from elsewhere and kill them if they had an opportunity to do so. They would steal the travelers’ money and possessions, redistributing the former throughout the village. The villagers were indebted to this family, but they also shunned them for their actions. That is why they were labeled man-eaters, most likely. The waterfall out back would have been where the corpses were beheaded, and afterward, the bodies may have been thrown into the pool below. Then the heads would be enshrined in the demon cave.” “…You’re saying there was more than just one killing.” “Yes. There was only one head inside the shrine, but there were quite a few monuments built outside the cave. There are more heads under those monuments, aren’t there?” Mr. Kitou picked up the brazier tongs, leaving Takatsuki’s question unanswered. When he poked lightly at the charcoal fire, red flames burst out from underneath the pile of snow-white ash. “Even if they start investigating now,” Mr. Kitou murmured, “they won’t find out anything about their identities.” Takatsuki’s eyes narrowed. “So there are more heads over there?” “Those who come from elsewhere will bring either good fortune or calamity. And either way, it’s fine to kill them. Because they’re outsiders. That’s what I was always told as a child—it’s how I was raised.” Prodding at the charcoal some more, the old man spoke as if he were making small talk. “The truth is, I saw the head of the family, two generations back, kill a traveler in the middle of the night. I was still young…but I remember it clearly. It was winter. There was disease tearing through the silkworms, and there was hardly any sellable silk that year. To make matters worse, almost all the crops in the area were destroyed by snow, so there was very little to eat in the village. But after that night, large quantities of rice bought from someplace else were distributed around to the villagers. They were all so grateful and kept thanking him over and over.” In this place, killing outsiders like that may have become a part of the established culture. It might have been necessary, in some sense, in order for the people living in an impoverished region to survive. But talking about the facts as they were would have been too morbid, too cold-blooded. And so the local people turned it into a legend about a demon. Murdered travelers were enshrined as deities to seal away their resentment. But that probably hadn’t been enough on its own. The demon legend of Sakai was meant to remain forever within the bounds of the village. Speaking of it outside the village was forbidden. Both the cave and the waterfall were kept secret. Everyone agreed: It was a story that shouldn’t be known anywhere else. As time passed, however, the story became just another folktale. Those who knew the truth of the past died out—and most importantly, the culture of killing outsiders was lost in the modern era. The demon in the story became an “actual” demon, because no one wanted to believe what had happened in the village was just murder. “It’s true; even if we inspected the legend through a pragmatic lens, the police aren’t going to come investigate things now. That’s why, at the outset, I came here intending only to learn about the demon legend before going home. However, circumstances have changed.” Mr. Kitou’s brow twitched again at Takatsuki’s words. The professor smiled back at him. “After all, I expect someone has died quite recently in this village. Your son, in fact—Masaomi.” Naoya gaped at Takatsuki, but the other man merely went on talking as he always did, with a smile. “You know, don’t you, Mr. Kitou? The real reason why Masaomi won’t return to this house.” “I don’t.” The old man’s voice warped. Naoya pressed a hand to one ear. Takatsuki glanced quickly in his direction, then went back to watching Mr. Kitou intently. “People in town told me that lately you don’t want anyone, even residents of Sakai, going near that cave. And that they’ve noticed you’re always outside the cave praying. I wondered—why would you be doing that in front of the cave rather than inside it?” “How should I know? They probably just misspoke.” “No, I don’t think so. There’s a large stone at the cave’s entrance. It wouldn’t be possible from the outside to see someone praying inside, in front of the shrine. Which means, when you were spotted, you weren’t in front of the shrine. You were in front of the cave.” Then, finally, Takatsuki hit the old man with his finishing blow. “Almost all the monuments outside that cave were memorial markers engraved with Buddhist figures. But there was one, a simple pile of stones—a grave that looked much newer. Masaomi is under there, isn’t he? And you’re the one who buried him, yes?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” For the third time, Mr. Kitou’s voice distorted wildly. And then, from the other side of the sliding screen door— Crash! Startled, Mr. Kitou shot to his feet. He threw open the screen, finding Miwako outside it, slumped on the floor. She was surrounded by overturned teacups, a small kettle, and a tray. “Miwako.” “Ah, ummm, I. Um. I thought. I would serve tea…” Her voice trembled. Mr. Kitou sank to his knees in front of her. He grabbed on to both of Miwako’s quaking arms as if to steady her, making her jolt violently. “Miwako. Miwako. You—did you hear all that just now?” “F-Father, it’s. It’s not true, right? Masaomi. He’s not dead, right…? And you, you didn’t kill him, right?!” Miwako’s words escalated into a shriek, but Mr. Kitou didn’t answer her. He simply lowered his gaze. At that, Miwako shoved the old man away and hurried to her feet. He looked up at her, dumbfounded, and sprawled across the tatami. Stepping over him, Miwako dashed across the room and went right out the back to the house’s rear yard. Mr. Kitou shouted after her, but Miwako ran into the snow in her socks, not even glancing back at him. “This is bad. We have to go after her.” Takatsuki stood and started running, Naoya rushing to follow. Miwako had taken off in the direction of the waterfall. They saw her bolting down the snow-covered path, stumbling and falling. But before the two of them could reach her, she scrambled back to her feet and kept running. “Ms. Miwako! Ms. Miwako, please wait!” Takatsuki called out to her, but she didn’t stop. By the time they caught up, Miwako had already made it to the edge of the cliff—to the precise spot Takatsuki had fallen from. “Ms. Miwako.” Miwako turned toward them, startled by Takatsuki’s voice. She stood with her hands clasped together over her chest. “Why…? Why?” Still trembling, she murmured that single word over and over as if in a daze. Miwako looked like she might throw herself over the cliff’s edge at any moment, and Naoya felt frantic. Takatsuki had survived the fall without injury, but there was no guarantee Miwako would fare the same. When he glanced at Takatsuki, however, the man seemed surprisingly composed. He stopped about six feet away from Miwako and started speaking to her. “Are you asking why Masaomi died? I don’t know the answer to that question, either. But if you’re asking why I think Masaomi is dead—it’s because his glasses are tangled up in the waterfall.” “His glasses…?” “You showed us a picture of him yesterday. I saw a pair of glasses identical to the ones he was wearing in that picture, caught on a branch about halfway down the waterfall. My vision is a bit better than average.” Naoya remembered that, just before Takatsuki had fallen off the cliff, he had been looking down as if he had spotted something. Could it have been Masaomi’s glasses? “You told us your husband didn’t come back even for New Year’s. He doesn’t call. Even if he’s never liked talking over the phone, that’s a little odd. You said you received e-mails and packages, but anybody could send those pretending to be someone else. When did you last see Masaomi?” “When…? It was…in August… He came home to visit his mother’s grave.” “And did he suddenly go back to Tokyo in the middle of the night or early in the morning?” “…When I woke up…in the morning. Father told me, ‘Masaomi had to leave for some urgent work matter.’ And…I had an e-mail…from him…” In that case, Masaomi must have died the night before. Takatsuki pointed to the waterfall behind Miwako. “I think you can still see his glasses from there, if you look hard. It’s all right to lean out just a little bit. They’re hanging on a branch that’s sticking out about ten feet from the top.” “Oh…” Turning on unsteady feet, Miwako made to peer into the waterfall just as Takatsuki instructed her. In the same instant, Takatsuki shot forward, kicking hard off the ground. He leaped at Miwako, grabbing her around the middle from behind and dragging her away from the precipice. “—N-no! No, stop! Let go! Let go of me!” Miwako screamed and struggled, but Takatsuki held on firmly. “You don’t have to die, Ms. Miwako. I didn’t uncover the truth behind Sakai’s demon legend for that reason.” “Then why?! Why didn’t you just leave us alone?!” Craning her neck wildly to look over her shoulder at Takatsuki, Miwako shrieked at him. “You should never have said anything! No, you—I wish an outsider like you had never come to our home! I could have kept waiting with Father forever for Masaomi to return! I could have gone on waiting, wondering when I would see him again, forever and ever! But you!” “Ms. Miwako, a lie like that can’t go on forever.” Miwako continued to fight against him, and Takatsuki kept holding her tightly. “The truth is, you had a faint idea, didn’t you? That Masaomi was no longer in this world.” “Stop it! Shut up! Let me go! I’ll die, too! If he’s never coming back no matter how long I wait, I’d rather die!” “You didn’t want it to be true, so you didn’t believe it. You believed Mr. Kitou’s lies instead. His efforts, too, I think they were quite poignant. There’s no cell phone reception out here. So I imagine Mr. Kitou must have purposely taken Masaomi’s cell phone to somewhere it had service so he could send an e-mail to you. And he sent you packages of foods you like. He probably also somehow went through things like resignation procedures with Masaomi’s employer. He did all that, desperately trying to sustain the lie that Masaomi was still alive. For you, Ms. Miwako.” “Doesn’t that mean he’s just been lying to me this whole time?! That all along I’ve been tricked into taking care of the man who killed the person I love?!” “Yes. But you played along with that fiction, with the hope that Masaomi wasn’t dead. All you had to do to know the truth was take a trip to Tokyo to visit him, but you never did. But you know, there’s always a limit to how much life you can live with the thin veneer of make-believe wrapped around you. Neither lies nor dreams last forever. Eventually, they rupture and collapse.” Perhaps that was why Takatsuki had gone ahead and destroyed that fiction before everything came shattering apart in the worst possible way. Naoya wasn’t so sure they hadn’t arrived at the worst possible outcome anyway. Miwako’s heart was in pieces, and the moment Takatsuki let go of her, she would probably throw herself over the edge of the cliff. Then— “—Enough. Let’s end this.” From behind them, they heard Mr. Kitou’s voice. Turning around, Naoya saw the old man standing there with his hunting rifle in hand. For a second, he stiffened, thinking Mr. Kitou was going to open fire on them, but the old man just squatted down in the snow. He took off his boots, put the rifle between his legs, and pointed the barrel at his own throat. “Mr. Kitou! Please don’t!” Naoya rushed to stop him. But Mr. Kitou put a toe on the gun’s trigger, and Naoya instinctively froze. This man truly intended to die by suicide. “…Ever since that day, I had a feeling that this is how I would go out.” Mr. Kitou started to speak, his voice low. “That night, Masaomi and I spoke out here. He asked me to come here because Miwako would hear us if we talked in the house. He didn’t want her to hear us arguing… Masaomi told me to come to Tokyo. He said to leave Sakai and come to Tokyo with Miwako. As if I could do that. The Kitou family is needed in Sakai. Who would pray to Onigami-sama if I was gone? Who would hold services for the heads buried there? Leave here…? How could I?” And so, that night, Mr. Kitou told his son he wouldn’t go. Then he yelled at him—terrible things. “I said, ‘You don’t understand the first thing about our family, you ungrateful wretch.’ Masaomi told me I was the one he couldn’t understand. He went away to Tokyo for college, got stained with the earth of another land, and became an outsider. The Kitou family—it kills outsiders. That’s why. That’s why I… I pushed Masaomi into the falls.” Naoya started in surprise. Just then, when Mr. Kitou had confessed to his crime, his voice had distorted. He didn’t push Masaomi over the cliff. “I killed Masaomi. So I… I should die, too. Because I killed him—” “—That’s not true.” Naoya had one hand pressed to his ear, partially blocking out that warped voice. Mr. Kitou looked up at him from his seat in the snow. “You didn’t push Masaomi off the cliff. You didn’t even kill him.” “Wh-what are you—?” “It’s true that Masaomi is dead. But you didn’t kill him. Perhaps—he lost his footing, all on his own, and fell?” At Naoya’s words, Mr. Kitou shuddered. “Y-you’re wrong. I killed him—” “You’re lying… I can tell,” Naoya said, plainly and resolutely. The old man stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. Without Naoya’s noticing, Takatsuki had moved to stand beside him. He was still holding on to Miwako, but she wasn’t struggling anymore. She looked at her father-in-law and asked, “Why…? Why did you hide Masaomi’s death? Why didn’t you tell me…?” “Miwako…” Mr. Kitou gazed back at Miwako, and his voice trembled. Tears flowed from the crease-ridden corners of both his eyes, disappearing into his stark white beard. “Miwako, I’m sorry… It’s, my fault. I… I was too weak…” Suddenly, the old man gritted his teeth. He readjusted the rifle in his hands, aiming it once more at the underside of his own jaw. “Father!” Miwako screamed. “Please stop!” “The Kitou family kills outsiders.” Chin pointed upward, Mr. Kitou continued. “But I killed one of my own, so I’m no longer a member of the family. I’m the outsider now.” The toe Mr. Kitou put back on the trigger moved. There was a thundering roar. Naoya covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut instinctively at the sound of gunfire so immediately close to him, but despite that, his ears still rang. Terrified at what he would see, Naoya opened his eyes. There, on his knees in front of Mr. Kitou, was Takatsuki. He was pushing hard on the rifle barrel, forcing its aim off to the side, where it had fired into open air. “Wh-what are you…?! Why won’t you let me die?!” “Mr. Kitou, please stop choosing death to escape your lot in this life.” Takatsuki looked at him. “Why do you think death will set you free in the first place? The living don’t know anything about what happens after we die. Is there a heaven or a hell waiting for us? That idea may be nothing more than an illusion created to soothe our fears of the unknown.” “Sh-shut up! Let me die!” “I can’t do that. I didn’t unravel this story because I wanted you to die.” With a sort of sadness in his tone, the professor explained. “I just wanted to break the curse. The one put on you and on Ms. Miwako—the curse of this family. Before you got trapped in the chains of a twisted story, before you yourselves were twisted by it. I wanted you to be free. That’s all.” “Shut up; let me die! I want to die! I’m begging you!” “You want to die that badly? To leave Ms. Miwako alone? Or were you going to take her with you? The reason you kept up the lie all this time—wasn’t it for her sake?” Another great shudder ran through the old man at those words. Takatsuki took the rifle from Mr. Kitou’s hands. Putting it down near himself, he peered into Mr. Kitou’s face. “If Masaomi’s death was an accident instead of a murder, there was no need to hide his body. But rather than notifying the police, you buried him outside the demon cave. Because you didn’t want Ms. Miwako to know he was dead, right? You didn’t want her to be sad.” “No… No, you’re wrong, you’re wrong, I…” Distortion faded in and out of the old man’s voice. “I had…something far more selfish on my mind…” Mr. Kitou pounded against his knee with a fist. Thump, thump—with every hit, more sorrowful words were wrung from his throat. “I just…didn’t…want…to be alone… So I… I…” His fists came to rest on his knees, clenched and trembling. Looking up at Miwako with his eyes and voice both brimming with tears, Mr. Kitou confessed for real. “…If you found out Masaomi was dead, Miwako, you would have left, too, right? Left this house… I didn’t…want to be alone. I lied…because…I wanted to keep you here. I didn’t want you to leave me… It was all…because of how pathetic I am… Please forgive me, Miwako…” The old man curled in on himself and started to sob. Despite his fairly large stature, he looked very small—just like a child. He was just a lonely old man. Even within the village, the Kitou family was isolated. He had lost his wife, then his son. Truly, the only person he had left was Miwako. “But then… Why did you say you had killed Masaomi?” Miwako asked. Mr. Kitou didn’t reply. He shook his head, still cowering. Miwako knelt at his side and put a hand on his shoulder. “Tell me, why…? Why would you lie about that? About killing him?” Again, Mr. Kitou didn’t answer. Miwako shoved at his shoulder, shaking him. “That’s so cruel, Father. Did you just want to hurt me even more?!” “That’s not it, Ms. Miwako.” Takatsuki interjected. Miwako turned her head to look at him, and he spoke to her in a quiet voice. “He lied about that—about killing Masaomi—to make you hate him.” Mr. Kitou jolted. He lifted his snow-covered face to look at Takatsuki. “…Stop. Don’t say that.” But the professor just turned back to Miwako, ignoring the old man’s plea. “When we lose someone dear to us, having someone to blame for it makes things just the slightest bit easier. There’s no one to blame for an unforeseen accident. So Mr. Kitou probably decided that, when the time came, he would assume responsibility for all your resentment and hatred and end his own life. That was his way of closing the book on the Kitou family and setting you free.” Mr. Kitou had said, “…Ever since that day, I had a feeling that this is how I would go out.” He had carried that resolution for months. In exchange for lying to Miwako, he intended to accept the hatred he assumed she would feel and die by suicide. He hoped that, by doing so, Miwako’s heart could feel some relief, even if it was only a little. “Of course, that was his ego speaking. But even so, I think that was the last show of concern Mr. Kitou thought he could give you, Ms. Miwako.” “…Stop it.” Miwako’s voice came out quiet and bitter. Naoya looked at her in surprise. “You keep saying that— For my sake. What the hell were you thinking?!” “Ms. Miwako,” Takatsuki said, trying to calm her. Miwako shook her head, cutting him off. “Is this some kind of joke?! You thought you could save me even a little by doing that? Masaomi dead, you dying by suicide, and me, left alone…? You wanted me to live the rest of my life hating my father-in-law, who I would never even see again?! How is that any different than a curse?!” Miwako glared fiercely at Mr. Kitou, whose face was crumpled in despair. But then, the very next moment, her eyes welled up with tears. They fell down her cheeks, and Miwako rubbed them away obstinately, trying to glare at the old man anew—and failing. Miwako’s anger was eroded, eaten away bit by bit by the tears that would not stop coming. That anger became something else. “You’re really…so, so stupid. All you had to do was tell me.” “M-Miwako…” “That’s all. You could have just told me Masaomi had died. I would never have abandoned you… You’re… You’re so stupid…!” She spat out the words, trembling, her voice dissolving into tears. All at once, Miwako threw her arms around Mr. Kitou and started to cry loudly. Caught off guard by being wrapped in her thin arms, Mr. Kitou flinched back at first. But soon after, his face collapsed into grief. Quiet sobs escaped him, and he slowly, timidly hugged Miwako back. Burying her face in Mr. Kitou’s shoulder, Miwako shook and wept. Then a breeze blew from across the waterfall. It seemed to carry something away with it—something that had been confined in that land for a long, long time. The wind was marvelously clear and strong, as if it came to wash away in one fell swoop all the stagnation that had been accumulating endlessly in the demon cave, in the Kitou house, and inside the people who lived there. The two people who had become prisoners of the house that enshrined demons sat with that wind blowing all about them, crying as openly as children. There were no more lies between Mr. Kitou and Miwako—there was only the unbelievably sad truth. For a moment, the wind wrapped around them. Then it blew away over the pure-white snow, continuing on and on, far and wide, until it disappeared. That just may have been the moment when their curse was lifted. Not long after, Sasakura returned to the house. Before following them to the waterfall, Mr. Kitou had called the police, so Sasakura and a patrol car arrived at almost the same time. Sasakura had left Iinuma at the hospital, where he had apparently been admitted. As soon as he heard what had happened, Sasakura seized Takatsuki by his shirt collar and yanked him forward with the sourest expression Naoya had ever seen. “…I told you to behave, didn’t I?” “Yep. That’s why I didn’t do any more diving off of the waterfa— Ow!” Takatsuki yelped as his friend’s fist made aggressive contact with the top of his head. Naoya looked on from the side, thinking how childish the two of them were being, when Sasakura whirled around and landed a hit on his head, too. “…Ouch! What are you doing, you thug detective?!” “Shut it. I told you both to behave. Doesn’t he pay you to be his common sense? The other guy brought out a hunting rifle, for crying out loud! What the hell were you two doing?!” “I’m not working right now! I just came along on the trip! The Voice of Reason is on vacation!” “Don’t give me that bullshit excuse, you little bastard—” “KenKen! I’m sorry, I was in the wrong, so stop bullying Fukamachi! I’m sorry; it was all my fault!” Takatsuki hurried to intervene as Sasakura hauled Naoya up by his shirt collar next. A police officer nearby gave them a questioning look. Though Mr. Kitou hadn’t killed Masaomi, he had indeed failed to alert the police to the presence of a dead body, which was its own crime. They were going to take him in for questioning. As the old man was shepherded into the patrol car and driven away, Miwako watched. Her eyes stayed fixed on the car for a long while. “Ms. Miwako.” Takatsuki called out to her, and she responded without turning around. “—You were right, Professor. I had wondered whether Masaomi was already dead. Father took the bankbook for the account Masaomi’s salary was deposited in—it was then.” “…I see.” “He told me he was doing it because he was the head of the family, but… For some reason, when that happened, I thought, I wonder if there’s any chance Masaomi isn’t alive anymore. But I didn’t try to find out… You were right about everything. I was afraid to know the truth. I wanted to believe it couldn’t be true.” Miwako spoke in a detached, calm way. She sounded totally composed, but there was no telling what expression she was wearing on the face she refused to show them. “Ms. Miwako, what are you going to do now?” Takatsuki asked. Miwako answered, “I don’t know. I’ll probably stay in this house until everything is settled with Father. But after that… I still don’t know.” It struck Naoya as he listened to her reply that, despite everything, Miwako still referred to Mr. Kitou as Father. She continued to stare down the road the police had driven away on. Not even the patrol car’s red taillights were visible anymore, but Miwako kept gazing in that direction. Mr. Kitou had said he didn’t want to be alone. That was probably true for Miwako as well, Naoya thought. Perhaps that was why she had bought into Mr. Kitou’s lies. Maybe it wasn’t just that she didn’t want to believe Masaomi was dead. A large hand patted Naoya once on the head. It was Takatsuki. “Well, Fukamachi—shall we?” “…Yes. Let’s go.” It was time to return to the bed-and-breakfast. To go back to where Ruiko was waiting for them with a special cup of cocoa and two cups of coffee. “…Whoa, that’s really something.” “Wow.” “It’s so cute!” The marshmallows Ruiko had set aside specially for Takatsuki turned out to be shaped like adorable cats. Each one appeared to be a contentedly smiling cat face, eyes closed, with a paw held up on either side of its head. Floating around in the cocoa, they looked like they were enjoying a fun little swim. Ruiko smiled as she served each of them their drinks in the inn’s dining room. “Hee-hee. I saw them online and thought I had to give them to you, Professor, so I went ahead and ordered them as a surprise. I really wanted to get dog-shaped ones, but I couldn’t find any! Oh, but there were panda ones, and those were cute, too, so I’ll give them to you later.” “Thank you, Miss Ruiko!” Takatsuki waited until Ruiko disappeared back into the kitchen, empty serving tray in hand, before promptly taking a sip of the cocoa, smiling excitedly. “Ooh, it’s delicious, too. I’m so happy.” “But the marshmallows are going to start melting, aren’t they? Won’t they look a bit grisly after a while?” “Don’t say that! It’s cocoa, so it’s not like I can stop them from melting!” “I mean, they’re so cute I wouldn’t even really expect a thirty-five-year-old man to be having them, but…” “Why are you always bringing up people’s ages, Fukamachi?! Who cares what I drink?!” Sulking, Takatsuki took another sip of cocoa. Naoya really could not see him as someone in his midthirties when he was in the middle of licking melted marshmallow off his lips. The dining room was empty except for their group; there was still time before dinner was served. The cocoa and coffee were prepared expressly for them by Ruiko, who was in the middle of preparing food with her mother. Naoya tasted his coffee, too. It was delicious—superior in aroma and flavor and everything else to the kind he normally drank in Takatsuki’s office. And yet… For some reason, in that moment, Naoya kind of wished he was drinking that coffee instead. “Y’know, how do I put this…? This trip turned out to be pretty crappy, didn’t it?” Sasakura muttered that after taking a sip from his own mug. He sounded a bit tired. They had certainly planned on having a relaxing vacation before everything that happened. It would have been nice to enjoy a peaceful little getaway—instead, they discovered human bones and experienced the dangers of amateur cliff diving. “Professor, do you think—? Do you suppose the chain letter you got from Nanba is why things ended up this way?” “Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?” Naoya’s half-joking question put him on the receiving end of Sasakura’s fierce glare. Reluctantly, Naoya explained the whole incident, though he thought if anyone deserved to be glared at it was Takatsuki, not him. He told Sasakura about Nanba consulting with Takatsuki over the chain letter he had received—and about the professor’s solution. He still couldn’t shake the image of those paper dolls fluttering in the wind—or the sight of Takatsuki tumbling over the waterfall the same way. Just thinking about it made him shiver. “Dammit, why would you do something so reckless…?” That time, Sasakura did turn his glare on Takatsuki, who looked back at him with a puzzled expression. “Well, I mean, one of my students came to me all depressed because he thought he was cursed. I had to come up with something; I’m his teacher.” “Okay, but why the hell would you decide to curse yourself?” “I’m telling you: I don’t think I am cursed. Although—Fukamachi seems to feel differently.” Takatsuki looked at Naoya with a wide smile. Naoya’s head drew back slightly at being so easily found out. Takatsuki read him like a book. But then a horrible thought occurred to him. Nanba’s curse was drawn in by Nanba himself thinking I am cursed after receiving that letter. Which meant, in this case, couldn’t one posit that Naoya was responsible? Even if Takatsuki didn’t consider himself cursed, what if Naoya, beside him the whole time, had invited disaster by entertaining that thought over and over? What could he do to fix it? Takatsuki leaned in a little toward Naoya. “Say, Fukamachi, have you ever heard the superstition that a bunch of crows cawing on the roof of a house is an omen that someone in that family will die soon?” “Huh? Ah— Um, now that you mention it, I think my mother said something similar a long time ago… There was a whole flock on the roof of a neighbor’s house. I’m pretty sure she said it then…” Momentarily thrown by the sudden change in topic, Naoya blinked and tried dredging up some old memories. That was right—years before, his mother had seen a swarm of crows cawing incessantly at each other on a nearby home, frowned, and said, “How eerie. It’s like someone is about to die.” No one actually had died after that, but ever since then, when Naoya noticed a group of crows congregating on a particular roof, it creeped him out. “Yes, things like that are fairly common folk beliefs—‘Crow song is an evil portent of death’ and ‘Crows gathering on your roof is bad luck.’ Coming across a flock of crows is something I would obviously hate, but I think these superstitions spread because many people—not just me—find that kind of sight scary or off-putting. Now then…as for you.” “What? Me?” “I bet you feel guilty toward me right now. You’re worrying that you yourself may have cursed me by wondering if the chain letter is to blame for my falling off the cliff. Am I right?” Takatsuki was peering right into Naoya’s eyes. He was also entirely correct. In a mumbling, inarticulate tone, Naoya responded. “…I mean, the way those paper dolls fell and the way you fell were just too similar.” “That’s true. But chronologically, it doesn’t quite make sense, does it?” “Chronologically?” “You clearly saw the paper dolls get blown around by the wind. And when I fell, that memory came to the fore. Because the two events were strikingly similar, your brain drew a correlation between them. But if your recalling the curse resulted in my being cursed, it would have to have happened before I fell over the waterfall. It doesn’t make sense chronologically for the consequence to occur before or at the same time as the cause. The cause has to come first.” He was right. The image of the paper dolls fluttering in the air came to Naoya just as he realized Takatsuki was going to fall. At that point, the professor had already gone stiff with terror at the sound of the birds flapping their wings. By the time Naoya connected the curse to the situation, it was already a done deal. “Japanese people have a long history of assigning omens to events retroactively. The superstition about crows on roofs is a good example of that. In reality, it’s just people remembering seeing crows squawking on the roof of a house after someone in it dies and thinking, You know, that did seem inauspicious to me at the time. Since that connection was made after the fact, it cannot by nature be an omen. But as long as the circumstances fit to some degree, a causal relationship will be established. That’s how the superstition about crows was born. Many other ‘curses’ in this country are the same—they’re retrofitted to the circumstances when someone notices them. Rest assured, Fukamachi, you weren’t the one who cursed me.” That had been true in Nanba’s case as well. Once he made the connection to the chain letter he received after a few unlucky incidents, all of his recent bad luck was attributed to the letter’s curse. Naoya had the feeling it was the same for Mr. Kitou and the declaration he had made several times: The Kitou family kills outsiders. He had probably lived his entire life very keenly aware that members of his family had murdered people from outside of town. So when his son died tragically in front of him, that thought must have been quick to surface. Mr. Kitou had derided Masaomi—whose way of thinking was so different from his own—as an outsider. That memory became associated with the family history of “killing the Other” in Mr. Kitou’s mind, resulting in a curse that kept the old man imprisoned. He must have thought Masaomi’s death was his fault, that he might as well have pushed his son over that cliff. “At any rate, you were pretty cool this time around, Fukamachi.” Takatsuki smiled at him. “It’s a rare sight, isn’t it? You, calling out someone’s lies right to their face without even trying to hide your ability.” “That was…” For some reason, Naoya faltered. “I mean… When it seems like someone is going to die right in front of you, how you might be perceived isn’t actually important, is it?” “Sure, but still—it made me a bit happy, seeing you act on your own initiative like that.” “Oh? I would’ve liked to see that.” Sasakura was smirking, his eyes narrowing at Takatsuki’s words. “This brat with the perma-frown and hands practically glued to his ears showing some growth, eh? Isn’t that great, Fukamachi? Let’s tell Ruiko so she can light a celebratory candle or something.” “P-please don’t make fun of me!” Naoya said, taking another drink of his coffee to escape the conversation. He wasn’t a fan of having two adult men looking at him with amusement on their faces. They were watching him like proud parents rejoicing in their child’s development. Naoya hated it. “A-anyway! You’re always being way too reckless, Professor! Doing something like that today even though I just yelled at you about it the night before! What would you have done if Ms. Miwako actually jumped or Mr. Kitou shot his rifle at us?! He was on the verge of killing himself as it was!” “There was no reason for Mr. Kitou to shoot us, so I figured he wouldn’t. I did think there was the possibility for suicide, but I thought it would be fine as long as I stopped him from doing that.” “‘As long as I stopped him,’ you say, as if it’s that easy.” “Well, isn’t it? There are people who can kill themselves without hesitating, but the majority will waver a bit before doing anything. I mean, look! I was actually able to stop him, wasn’t I?” Takatsuki smiled, waving the hands he had used to grab ahold of Mr. Kitou’s hunting rifle. Naoya didn’t understand how someone could have the nerve to calmly hold on to the barrel of a gun in a situation like that. The professor really was strange in all kinds of ways. Sasakura was glaring at Takatsuki again. “Look at you sitting there acting like it’s all okay just because you managed to pull that crazy shit. You really need to reflect on your actions this time. You’re always saying you regret your behavior, but you never change a damn thing! Does that brilliant brain of yours forget about everything except the stuff you’re interested in the minute it’s not right in front of you?” “That’s right! It makes things a lot harder for us, you know! I really wish you would stop thinking everything will be forgiven as long as you smile and say you’re sorry!” “Don’t expect me to do any more midwinter swimming, got it?” “And I won’t be changing your clothes for you again! It was ridiculously difficult, okay?!” Sasakura and Naoya laid into Takatsuki from both sides. But for some reason, Takatsuki just sipped his cocoa while looking slightly pleased. If he were a dog, his tail would have been wagging. “What is with you, Professor? How come you’re smiling even though you’re in trouble?” Takatsuki’s smile only grew at Naoya’s exasperated tone. “How could I not be happy knowing there are two people who care about me this much? Plus, I think this trip was pretty fun. I mean, we got to eat houtou, and Miss Ruiko’s mother’s cooking is so delicious! And we went sightseeing and got to have so many valuable experiences!” “There should be a limit to how stupidly optimistic you can be.” Though he was even more annoyed, Naoya thought, But that’s just the type of person Takatsuki is. Always trying to see the positives over the negatives. Always trying to offer an interpretation that was even the slightest bit kinder than the bitter, sad truth. As if doing so could turn a curse into a blessing. Curses and blessings certainly were two sides of the same coin. What mattered was how someone looked at something—one circumstance could be seen in two entirely different lights. Maybe Takatsuki had been trying to teach that to Naoya this entire time. However, that didn’t excuse him from feeling even a shred of remorse. “…I see. Then I’ll stop worrying about you altogether.” “What? Why?!” “Because it’s a waste of time worrying over someone who is so openly unrepentant.” Naoya turned his head away and sipped pointedly at his coffee. “—You know,” Takatsuki said. “For someone who hates lying so much, Fukamachi, you do it surprisingly often.” “Excuse me? What do you mean?” “You lied to me back when you first started as my assistant, too, didn’t you? You said you observed people as a hobby to hide your ability. That’s a lie.” “Th-that was…!” Flummoxed at being on the receiving end of the type of criticism Takatsuki didn’t normally deliver, Naoya looked back at the professor without meaning to. What on earth could he say in response? Eyes narrowing a little, Takatsuki continued. “And just now, that was a lie. You’re going to keep worrying about me a whole bunch even after today. You’re not the kind of person who abandons others, no matter how coldhearted you like to talk. That’s why you brought Nanba to me that time.” “You’re wrong! I was just paying Nanba back for letting me borrow old exam questions! And I’m already done caring about you one way or another, Professor! I mean it!” “Don’t be silly, Fukamachi. I’m a teacher. I know, of course, that you’ll pursue classes in the History Department next year! That means you intend to major in folklore studies and be my advisee!” Takatsuki pointed at Naoya with a flourish like he was a genius detective from a manga. But Naoya just shook his head. “Ah, that’s incorrect.” “Huh, how?!” Takatsuki wailed, aghast. “You picked the History Department because my class left a huge impression on you and made you think folklore studies was fun, right?!” “I did enjoy your class, but the Japanese history course I took was just as interesting. I’ve chosen a department, but I haven’t settled on a major yet.” “B-but…” Looking utterly dejected, Takatsuki sank low in his seat. Amused, Sasakura started flicking one fluffy whorl on the professor’s head. Watching them, Naoya wondered—if his ability worked on himself, would his voice have sounded distorted just then? Not even he could be sure.