“Wh-what’s so funny?!”
“Oh, wow, it’s so soothing to see you reacting so meekly. I’m glad I took Konoha out. It really cheered me up.”
“I don’t understand a word you’re saying, Maki!”
Tohko stood up, her face bright red.
“Besides which, Konoha is my underclassman, so I’d appreciate it if the president of the orchestra didn’t take him around with her wherever she pleases.”
Maki grinned slyly.
“Oh no, are you jealous?”
“No! As his president, I have a responsibility to protect Konoha so bad people don’t reel him in and lead him into immoral conduct. Konoha’s mother even asked me to keep him out of trouble!”
My mother asked her to…? That was just something people said to their kids’ friends!
And “lead him into immoral conduct”? What decade did she think this was that I was an at-risk youth?
Hearing the contentious voices, the people in the mansion began to gather and listen in. This was more embarrassment than I could stand. And being glared at by Uotani’s cold eyes made me uncomfortable.
“You were sound asleep, so I didn’t tell you. Besides, just going to town for a little bit isn’t immoral conduct.”
Tohko pulled her mouth into a frown and looked at me unhappily.
Maki took the opening.
“That’s right, Konoha. We had SUCH fun. We should go on another date.”
She even gave me a saucy wink to provoke Tohko.
Tohko stamped her foot.
“Oh, I see! I’m so glad you had fun! I got the chance to read at the front door with some quiet, too, and it was so, so, SO pleasant and cool and SO MUCH FUN!”
Exactly how long had she been in the doorway?
After Tohko had lashed out like a little kid, she whirled around, turning her back on us, and stomped off.
Beside me, Maki was holding her sides and laughing.
As I passed by her, Uotani launched a shot at me—“You’re foul”—and I snuck back to my room.
While I worried over whether something in my fortune said I would have trouble with women, I wrote an improv story on a piece of lined paper and took it with me to Tohko’s room.
I knocked on the door and called, “Tohko, it’s me.”
There was no answer. Nearly an hour had gone by since it all happened, but I guess she was still mad.
“I’m coming in.”
When I turned the handle and opened the door, I saw her long braids and small back.
It looked like she was sitting on an antique chair with her knees pulled up to her chest, reading. The book resting on her knees had an old and yellowed binding. She’d probably taken it from the shelves.
As proof that she’d heard my voice, the instant I stepped in, her shoulders twitched slightly.
But she continued her stubborn silence.
“That’s from the library, right?”
When I spoke over her shoulder, she twitched again.
I caaaaarefully looked at her bent profile and saw that she wasn’t pouting.
In place of the expression of rage, her eyebrows hung down slightly, her mouth was pressed into a frown, and she wore a dejected, embarrassed, troubled look.
She probably regretted losing her temper and ranting in front of everyone. She might have wanted to make up but couldn’t come up with a good opening to say so.
Sometimes Maika would hug her knees with this same look.
Geez…and Tohko was way older than Maika, too.
Compared to Maki or Kotobuki, Tohko was easy to understand.
And, I thought, because of that I was able to be with her even though she’d jerked me around like crazy and caused me all kinds of problems up till now.
Because she was someone who could easily say, “I’m sorry” or “Thank you.”
I peeked down at the page from behind her and read it out loud.
“…I carry one secret in my heart, you see. Rumors have it that anesthesia makes one speak deliriously, and so I fear the consequences.”
“Eek!”
Tohko jumped and turned around. When our eyes met, she turned visibly redder.
“Old writing really is tough to read. What book is that?”
Her face still red, Tohko answered, fidgeting, “‘The Surgery Room,’ by Kyōka. It’s a short story that was published in 1895—the twenty-eighth year of the Meiji emperor’s reign—and it got good reviews and introduced Kyōka to the world.”
Leaving my hands on the back of the chair, I moved beside Tohko and listened. She still seemed a little embarrassed, but her voice told the story without hesitation. The air that enfolded us changed to a gentle golden color.
“The doctor, Takamine, is put in the position of performing surgery on a beautiful countess. But she refuses to use anesthesia and asks him to simply cut into her. She tells him that she has a secret and since she’s so consumed by it, if she becomes disoriented with anesthesia, she’s sure that she’ll talk about it. Takamine listens to her request and presses his scalpel into the countess’s chest…”
Tohko suddenly lowered her eyelashes and bowed her head.
Her face reminded me of the sad look I’d seen at dawn and my heart skipped.
“What happens to her?”
“…She grabs onto Takamine’s arm, lays her hand on the scalpel, and slits her own chest open. Appealing to him, ‘You will not know me.’
“That instant, Takamine says, ‘I’ll never forget you.’”
Tohko’s lips trembled slightly.
Her fingers tightened on the book and the tips of her nails turned white.
A sharp impact ran through me, as if I, too, had been stabbed in the chest with a scalpel.
“You will not know me.”
“A contented, innocent smile came over the countess’s face and she breathed her last.
“In fact, nine years earlier the two had encountered each other only once—without ever exchanging a word for only the briefest of moments. And in that one moment, they were drawn to each other… They fell in love and kept their feelings secret in their hearts.
“Though probably neither one of them ever considered that the other knew of them…
“They were both unable to forget that time like a momentary dream.