Chapter 201

Chapter 4—A Dwindling Back, Not Even a Footfall Tohko argued for taking a bus that ran only once every hour, but I convinced her to take a taxi. The place we were headed was a tiny hospital. It probably also served as someone’s house. The three-story hospital and a one-story house stood in the grounds enclosed by a low fence. There was a sign that read INTERNAL MEDICINE, OBSTETRICS, GYNECOLOGY. “I was born here.” Tohko’s eyes narrowed with a deeply emotional smile. Now that she mentioned it, I recalled that the musical birthday card in the closet had been sent by a hospital. “Is this the first time you’ve come back?” “Yes.” “But you’ve visited your parents’ grave a bunch of times, right? How come you never once came here?” At that, Tohko got a conflicted look on her face, and then she smiled ambiguously. “… I was in a hurry.” I had a feeling it wasn’t just that, but I couldn’t ask her about it. “It would be nice if the doctor remembered me.” “You were a baby, right? Your face and body have all changed. There’s no way.” “But this doctor delivered my father and grandfather, too.” “How old is this doctor?!” As we were talking in front of the sign, a middle-aged, heavyset nurse came out. “Oh—can I help you?” Tohko, who was never timid with anyone, faltered uncharacteristically. “Um, I-I was born at this hospital. I wanted to say hello to the doctor.” “You’re in high school, aren’t you? How old are you?” “I’m a third-year in high school. I’ll be eighteen soon.” The nurse frowned sadly. “Then you won’t want Mamoru. It’ll be his grandfather, Kiichi. I’m very sorry, but the doctor passed away last year.” Tohko’s face fell visibly. “Oh…” “I’m so sorry, after you’ve come all this way. If you don’t mind, may I ask your name?” “My name is Tohko Amano.” At that, the nurse’s face shone. “Why, little Tohko! Tohko after Legends of Tono, wasn’t it?” Tohko’s cheeks flushed with happiness, too. “That’s right.” “I knew it! Ah, now that I know that, you look just like your mother. You really do take after her in the nose and around the eyes. I assisted at your birth.” The nurse who introduced herself as Ms. Hayashi invited us inside and even told us that the room where Tohko’s mother had stayed was open right now, and she let us see it. In the small private room on the third floor, we could look out over a rolling landscape from the window next to the bed. “Your mother’s name was Yui, wasn’t it? She would often look out this window. You said your father was an editor? He was busy with his work just then and wasn’t able to come visit her. Your mother must have been uneasy, having to give birth all alone in a strange place. Her face seemed so sad… It looked like she was worrying over something. Even so, she kept her spirits up and never uttered a word of complaint. “The first time she held you in her arms, she smiled so happily! “She pressed her face to your cheek and called your name—‘Tohko’—in a gentle voice. She said she’d taken it from Legends of Tono. Apparently they’d decided to call you Tohko if you were a girl. Your mother truly seemed so happy. She was overjoyed at your birth with all her heart. And now here you are, all grown up.” Tohko listened to Ms. Hayashi’s story excitedly, her lips curved in a smile. As if she were listening to a beautiful symphony. To be honest, I’ve been jealous of your ties with Fumiharu, Kana. Because when Fumiharu proposed to me, he said something to me. He told me, “The stories you write are like home-cooked meals. “Simple and warm and soothing to the spirit, but the flavor is too weak to market them; I don’t think you could be an author for everyone. “But you can be my author. I love you and the things that you write. So please, be my author. Just mine.” And then, right in front of my eyes, he ate a piece of paper I had just written on. I was able to become a wife for Fumiharu, but I couldn’t become an author for the editor Fumiharu Amano. Fumiharu was kind enough to call me his author, but that’s because his author is really you, Kana. That hurts— While Tohko was inside me, I was very nervous and tense—worrying that when Fumiharu didn’t come home he might be with you. That the two of you would go somewhere far away that I wasn’t able to go while I was waiting perfectly alone in my room. My world crumbled bit by bit from within, and one day it went completely dark. Why don’t you come home, Fumiharu? You promised we would go shopping for things for the baby on Sunday, so why did you go off to work when Kana called you? Yesterday you were talking about naming the baby Tohko after Legends of Tono if it was a girl, and you had such a gentle look on your face, so why? Why—why did you go to Kana again? Pained, suffocating, feeling as if I was slowly sinking into darkness, irrevocably—Tohko was the one who saved me from that hell. When I held the small, soft, freshly born life in my arms, I was enveloped in such happiness as I had never felt until then and I smiled. She was so precious to me that I cried. I was so thrilled. I was happy. But my joy made you miserable. “My dad is from Iwate, which is the setting for Legends of Tono.” As we walked side by side down a raised path between the rice fields, dyed by the sunset, Tohko told me about it with a gentle face. “The legends told through the years in this place were collected into a book like fairy tales. “In Legends of Tono, a lot of goblins and benevolent spirits appear… like water-dwelling ghouls or bird-winged warriors with long noses… benevolent, childlike imps watching over houses… creatures unlike humans, who lived in the same land as humans, interacting with them. But you know what? There aren’t any stories about a creature who gobbles up books.” She whispered in a quiet voice, her emotion plain and her eyes softly luminous. “My father, and his father before him… and his father… back and back for ages, they all ate stories to stay alive. No one told of what to call a creature like that, so I don’t know. So that’s why—” Tohko’s steps came to a halt, and she turned her face in my direction, catching me by surprise. And then she puffed her chest out cheerfully. “I am simply a high school girl and, as you can see, a book girl!” I know that her voice making that upbeat declaration and her shining smile were both things that Tohko had won through the years she’d lived. I knew how many meanings were packed into the name book girl. “I am not a goblin! I’m just a book girl.” “I am a book girl who loves books so much that I want to devour them.” That it was a life different from most people’s. That fact had probably hurt her and caused her worry. Even so, she was wearing a brilliant smile. She pouted and sulked. “I’m not a goblin.” She turned the pages of a book and talked exuberantly about it. My chest grew hot at her radiant smile. I was sorry for being mean and calling her a goblin… If I said that, I knew Tohko would just puff out her flat-as-a-board chest even more and laugh. “As long as you get it now.” So I walked beside her in silence. We caught a taxi to the train station, and yet again I had to convince Tohko. “A bus is fine. Let’s do that.” “That’s an overnight trip, though! It doesn’t leave for a long, long time! We’d get there tomorrow morning!” “But it’s cheaper than the bullet train.” “Time is just as important as money. You’re studying for your exams, right? You shouldn’t be sparing one minute or even one second.” “That’s true… but I don’t have the money to go back on the bullet train.” Obviously I wasn’t going to cast her off by telling her to take the bus by herself, so I wound up saying, “… I’ll pay.” “What? No way!” “I want to. Don’t say a word.” “Th-then… let’s at least connect on a local train and—” “Service is going to stop partway today.” As Tohko dithered again, I groaned. “It’s an early birthday present.” Tohko’s eyes popped. “You remembered my birthday?” “… It’s March fifteenth, right? You forced me to buy a present for you half a year late. I’m not going to forget that.” I said it bluntly and her cheeks turned red. When I saw that, I got embarrassed and turned my back on her. “So we can take the bullet train home, right?” “Konoha…,” Tohko whispered. “I can walk home. So buy me books with my share.” I toyed with the idea of letting her jog home by herself. Even after we were on the train, Tohko seemed rueful and kept saying things like, “Let’s not transfer to the bullet train; we could stay on this one and take the local train as far as we can,” or “If we hitchhiked from here, would you buy me a book with the money we save?” “You have exams to take. Why don’t you memorize some math formulas or something?” “It’s fine. There’s no math on the second-round tests.” “If you take it too lightly, you’re going to fail.” “Agggh! Don’t say I’m going to fail or slip up or any of that!” So she was worrying about it a little, evidently. Outside the window, the sun had gone down and it was now pitch-black. There was no one in the train car but me and Tohko. Sitting on the opposite side of the box seat, oblivious, Tohko looked out the window and murmured, “But… the overnight bus is romantic and wonderful, too. The only light comes from the emergency lighting in the floor, and lights stream by outside the window. It’s like you’re driving through the stars.” “Like in Night of the Milky Way Railway?” As soon as I said it, I remembered that night at the planetarium. I got an image of my spirit suddenly separating from my body and flying through the night. The domed sky. The starry expanse Miyazawa had seen twinkling on all sides. Tohko telling the story of Giovanni and Campanella in a clear voice. “Let’s go together, Campanella.” Had Giovanni and the others gazed at the rushing stars from the window of their train, too? Tohko was still looking out the window. Her somber face was reflected in the scenery passing by. My heart squeezed tight. “… I wonder where Campanella went after that, all alone?” Giovanni was left behind, and Campanella left him. It resembled Jerome and Alissa. The one who made the decision was always the one who left. No matter how much the one left behind cries and begs, it accomplishes nothing. Had Tohko connected Alissa and Campanella, too? In a gloomy voice, she whispered, “Yeah. Maybe Campanella went through the narrow gate…” The gentle vibration… rattle-rattle-ing… came up through my feet. It was very quiet inside the car. Neither of us spoke. What was Tohko thinking about? She’d been able to talk lightly before, like she used to, but would she get awkward again when we reached Tokyo? But this time we’d never see each other again? After we’d both slipped into silence, Tohko said abruptly, “I’m… hungry.” “I haven’t had anything since breakfast, either. Try to ignore it.” “But I’m so hungry I can’t even believe it.” Her face fell and she looked like she was about to cry. But actually, it would be kind of problematic if I wrote an improv story and she crunched it up right here. Even though, unlike the overnight bus, there weren’t any other passengers around. The inside of the car was brightly lit, though. I tried once again to tell her to be patient, but Tohko rummaged through her bag and pulled out a paperback. I saw the title and gasped. Alt-Heidelberg—! The book I’d given to Tohko. The one stuffed under her mattress the day I’d nursed her out of illness. When I’d tried to tear it up and make her eat it, she had stopped me with tears in her eyes— “Not that book. If I eat it… I won’t have it anymore… Alt-Heidelberg is all I have left. It’s the only one.” Of the nearly two-thirds of the pages that had been left, she’d gone through more than half. When I saw that, a sharp pain shot through my chest. I said good-bye… I thought… as long as I didn’t eat the rest of Alt-Heidelberg… When the pages were all gone, maybe Tohko would forget about me. That unresolvable panic welled up in me. Tohko turned the pages of the book, and in a whisper of a voice she expounded on it. “Alt-Heidelberg is a play written by the German author Wilhelm Meyer-Förster. It was published in 1901. It’s a famous story that tells of the joy and sorrow of youth through the meeting of Crown Prince Karl Heinz of the kingdom of Karlsberg—though he’s formally called Heinrich—and a girl at his boardinghouse named Kathie. It has a sweet taste, like biting into candied violets… a melancholy taste… a bitter taste… “As the heir to his uncle the grand duke after his parents died young, Karl Heinz had had a strictly regulated life enforced on him ever since childhood. He winds up studying abroad in Heidelberg, the city of students, and his heart thrills to the life of freedom of a college student. “Kathie is a girl who works at his boardinghouse. She gives Karl Heinz a bouquet of flowers to welcome him and recites a poem. The two of them quickly fall in love.” Her slender fingers had stopped above the page, not moving. Whenever she talked about a story, she was so excitable and happy, and yet now her downcast eyes were sorrowful and moist. “His first love… his first days of freedom… He made a lot of friends, too, and experienced days that he would never trade for any price—of such happiness as he had never before known. “Yes… like the fragrance of violets that spreads through your mouth the moment your teeth break the brittle candy shell. “But it didn’t go on very long… The grand duke’s illness worsens and Karl Heinz must cut short his studies and return to his country. “Two years go by and he’s become grand duke. Overcome by nostalgia, he returns to Heidelberg, but it’s no longer the Heidelberg he knew.” Tohko’s voice was hoarse. At the same time, her fingertips slid hesitantly over the page and stopped at its edge. She couldn’t possibly be in the mood to eat—! She was being so careless! She would never usually dare such a risk. I heard a riiip of paper. A white scrap between her fingers, she slowly brought it to her lips. If she ate it, it would be gone! She would forget! Unable to bear the pain crushing my chest, I stretched out a hand. I stuck my hand between Tohko’s lips and fingers and squeezed her hand to stop it there. It was impulsive and startled Tohko, too, and she abruptly shut her mouth. She bit down hard on the soft part at the base of my fingers. “—Rkk!” “Konoha!” Tohko pulled back quickly. She set the book in her lap, clasped my hand, and rubbed the reddening bite marks with her fingers. “Why did you stick your hand out all of a sudden? Oh no, you can see tooth marks. That must have hurt…” The thought occurred to me that this was the second time she’d bitten me hard enough to leave tooth marks, and in an angry tone I told her, “Because you were going to eat the book.” Maybe she sensed something in the emotions packed into my voice. Tohko looked up at me with sad eyes. I glowered back at her even more fiercely. “Why are you eating it?” “Well, it won’t keep forever. If it gets too old, I won’t be able to eat it anymore. And you bought it for me.” She spoke to me in a tone like an older sister lecturing her unreasonable little brother, and through irritation that seemed to scrape at my chest, I got indignant and grabbed the book off Tohko’s lap. “E-even so—you’re not supposed to eat in trains. I don’t care how much of a glutton you are, you should know better. What if someone saw you?” Tohko drooped dramatically. “… I’m sorry.” My throat burned painfully. I felt desolate and antsy, and I didn’t understand myself very well anymore. What did I want to do? What did I want to say? I turned my eyes away and glowered sulkily at the bite marks Tohko had left on my hand. Then suddenly, Tohko put a finger to the furrow in my brow. She peeked into my surprised face and whispered, “That’s an awful wrinkle.” “Wh—!” “Is what Kathie says as she strokes the face of Karl Heinz, who’s grown tired of his role as grand duke and come back to Heidelberg.” Her braids swung and the scent of violets tickled my nose. A warm smile came over Tohko’s face and she softly stroked my forehead. “Come on, give me a smile again.” Her gentle fingers slipped from my forehead to my cheek. She touched me gently, as if to cheer me up. “Once more the way you did before. Smile, Karl Heinz. Come on, smile for me.” Tohko’s eyes were reflected in mine. Her pure gaze, like a violet— My cheeks grew hot, as if a fire raged within them, and at the same time my chest filled with melancholy, and then I, too, opened Alt-Heidelberg and began to read Karl Heinz’s lines. “Kathie, everything was how it used to be—the Main, and the Neckar, even Heidelberg. Only the people had changed. There’s no one here who’s the way they used to be.” I was sure when I thought back to this later, I would be embarrassed to death and roll around on the floor in my room. But that was a hundred times better than watching Tohko eat the book I’d gotten her down to the last page right in front of me. A look of surprise came over Tohko’s face; then her eyes immediately grew sad. “You’re the only one, Kathie. The only one still the way they used to be is you.” Tohko smiled in silence. It was a smile so pretty that it squeezed my throat tight. My voice caught naturally. “—You’re the only one—” My heart clogged up and I could no longer speak. Tohko gave me a bright, teasing smile, and then she stood up smoothly and shifted to my side. She wrapped both hands around my arm and pulled me toward her, then read Kathie’s next line. “Go on then—I still remember the day you departed—we had decided to go to a forest in the Odenwald together.” I nodded, following the stage directions. Tohko’s eyes gleamed even more teasingly. “And then we would ride in a carriage to Neckargemünd—and after that would be Paris. Remember?” The stage direction said, “She smiles,” and Tohko followed along, crinkling her eyes. At the next direction, she even pressed her face to my chest. I felt Tohko’s weight directly above my heart, and my head spun at the fragrance of violets wafting from her hair. You’re taking this too far, Tohko! Why do you have your eyes closed so serenely?! Unable to follow suit, my breathing weak, I read my lines. “Outside there was a spring storm that night. Everyone was asleep.” Tohko raised her face and gazed at me, enraptured. “You held me tight, I remember.” When I saw the next direction, I jolted to a stop, brutally shaken up. Argh! This scene was no good! There, I saw written, “(He catches her up and kisses her passionately.)” Tohko had become Kathie completely. She was leaning against me and looking straight up at me with a syrupy gaze. My brain was boiling, I descended into breathing problems and an irregular pulse, and I closed the book and set it on the seat. “I can’t do it. I’m sorry.” Tohko pulled away from me and bobbed over to the seat opposite. She picked the book up as she went and giggled. “You were a wonderful prince, Konoha.” I groaned, my shoulders slumping completely. Tohko was watching me in amusement. Then she rested her back against the seat and closed her eyes contentedly. “Thank you. That filled me up.” Her face was serene, as if she’d just had a joyous dream. She hugged Alt-Heidelberg to her chest and kept her eyes closed the rest of the time. Had she fallen asleep? Or was she pretending to be asleep? I gazed at the flowerlike smile on her lips with aching, melancholy feelings. Thinking about what might have happened if I had followed the stage directions and caught her up and kissed her… We transferred to the bullet train, and by the time we arrived at Tokyo Station, it was nearly eleven o’clock at night. We left the station and walked for a bit; then Tohko stopped and said, “Thank you for coming today. We can split up here.” “It’s late. I’ll take you home.” “No, I’ll go home by myself. Let me do that.” The words were uttered with a smile, but they were a clear refusal. A cutting pain ran through my chest. It confirmed my belief that Tohko really was trying to distance herself from me, and the world went dark. Even though she’d been so close to me a little while ago! Even though she’d smiled the same way she used to! Even though she’d leaned against my chest and closed her eyes in contentment! “Good-bye.” She turned her slender shoulders and began to walk off. I shouted out to stop her. “Tohko! What do you want me to do?!” My spirit was a mess, my throat burned, and I couldn’t breathe well. I didn’t know what I should do. Tohko turned around. She looked me in the face and, troubled—sadly—she wrinkled her brow. There was a pungent spasm in the back of my throat, the depths of my heart rocked, and as I approached tears, I begged, “I don’t want to write a novel! I don’t want to become an author! And I can’t write the story like manna that your mother would have written! But—but… if I wrote, would you stay forever? You wouldn’t go anywhere?” The wind rustled her long braids. Tohko’s eyes crinkled, her heart seeming to wrench as she listened to what I said. If Tohko were to tell me right now that she wanted me to write, if that’s what she wanted, if that’s what would change her future—if I didn’t have to lose Tohko— I— I would—! Tohko was the one who stopped the words that threatened to explode from my mouth. “It’s fine.” When her limpid whisper fell on my ears, I couldn’t believe it. Like Alissa telling Jerome she was leaving, Tohko was looking at me with a transparent gaze and smiling kindly. “I wanted to read my mother’s stories again. I wanted to fill my empty stomach with them. I thought that everything would change then and go in a better direction. I thought maybe you’d be able to do it.” A subtle shadow fell over her eyes. “But that was a selfish desire…” Her voice wavered sadly. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth again almost immediately. “So it’s fine. I’m sorry for lying to you up till now.” She clenched her hands into fists against her legs and bowed her head deeply. I was frozen in place, still on my feet. All I could do was bug out my eyes and gape. When Tohko raised her face, she said, “Good-bye,” with a gentle expression, and then left. Her delicate body melted into the darkness. “It’s fine.” Those cruel words echoed in my ears long, long after. Alissa talked about it in her diary, remember? That the path God pointed to was narrow and could never be walked with another— I’m sorry, Kana. I never actually had the right to wish for your happiness. Because I was the one blocking your way to happiness after all. When Tohko was born, I was finally liberated from suffering. And Fumiharu would embrace me when I embraced Tohko, and say, “I’m sorry,” and treat me kindly. My world turned back to light and hope, and I was content, as if I were dreaming on the near side of a broad gate. I had Tohko and I had Fumiharu. Peaceful, warm, average, and obvious. But you won’t come over to me! All you do is stare frigidly when Tohko eats the stories I write, just like Alissa would never go anywhere, even though she knew, “There are countries like that.” Can’t you hear me calling anymore, Kana? Won’t you read the things I write anymore, Kana? If you would walk to meet me—I would give you anything I had, if you told me that’s what you wanted. I don’t know how long I stood there. The sense of loss was stronger even than the cold of the wind striking my cheek. My mind fuzzy, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and checked my alerts. While I was on my way to Iwate, I’d gotten a text from Akutagawa saying that he’d met up with Kotobuki without any problems. I’d sent a text to Kotobuki’s phone then, too, to apologize, but I still hadn’t gotten an answer. She was probably ticked off. It was understandable. The only text I’d gotten was from my mom, which I’d answered, telling her that we couldn’t come back for lunch after all. She’d seemed worried and asked, Did you have a fight with your girlfriend? and told me, Don’t let it get you down! When I pulled up Akutagawa’s number and called him, I heard a girl’s voice. “Konoha?” The fog that had settled over my mind was blown away instantly. “Miu?!” Why was Miu on Akutagawa’s phone?! And at this hour? Visiting hours at the hospital should’ve been over a long time ago. Miu responded to my stupor with a taunting voice. “I heard you blew off your date and ran after Amano. What an awful thing to do. Your girlfriend was crying like crazy. She was saying she hates you and how she’s going to break up with you.” “N-nuh-uh! I didn’t say that!” Suddenly another voice broke in. Kotobuki? “What? But I thought you were swearing up and down that you were done with an unreliable guy like that and that you never wanted to see his face again?” “No, I didn’t! That’s a lie! Don’t believe her, Inoue.” What was happening? I could hear Miu’s voice alternating with Kotobuki’s voice. I stared into space, unable to grasp the situation, when I heard Miu’s voice saying unhappily, “Hey! Kazushi! Give that back!” Then came Akutagawa’s voice. “… Sorry, but it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to have a casual talk on the phone,” he said, sounding disgusted. “So why don’t you come over? Kotobuki and Asakura are both here, too.” When I went through a magnificent, Japanese-style gate and walked up to the front door, Akutagawa met me with a vaguely haggard look on his face. “Did you manage to find Amano?” “… Yeah, it was nothing major.” “Oh. That’s good.” “Sorry to put you to all this trouble.” “I don’t mind that, but…” Akutagawa frowned. Still standing at the front door, I asked in a low voice, “Why are Miu and Kotobuki here?” “Actually… I had plans to go out with Asakura today.” “What?! Really… I’m sorry! I didn’t know—” Apparently after he got my call, he’d called up Miu to say he wanted to cancel their plans. As it turned out, Miu threw a fit and he wound up having to explain the situation and Miu had proclaimed that she was going along. When Akutagawa told her he didn’t have time to pick her up—“Okay, I’ll head over and wait with Kotobuki. Girls need to be together at a time like this. You’re not going to be able to tell her anything that’ll help anyway.”—she’d decided unilaterally and he hadn’t been able to refuse. “And actually, Kotobuki was incredibly depressed, so it was a good thing that Asakura was there.” They’d moved to Akutagawa’s house after that, and the two girls had gotten into it with each other, just as they’d done when they answered the phone. “It got late, so they both decided to stay here tonight. My dad is gone for work and both my sisters understand. We got permission from the hospital and my sister called Kotobuki’s family, so there’s no problem.” Akutagawa’s face was tinged with fatigue. “Er, I… I’m really sorry for causing all this trouble.” As I began my apology, a voice sounded from the top of the stairs. “What’re you doing, Kazushi? Konoha’s here, isn’t he? Bring him up here already!” Urk. “Go on then! Tell him what you wanted to say! Reasonable girls go to the bottom of the priority list. Then they wind up switched out for another girl. Not that I care if that does happen to you, of course.” “I-I haven’t been switched out!” “That’s true. Even if that’s what’s going to happen soon, for now at least you’re his girlfriend. Though it doesn’t look like you’re getting the girlfriend treatment at all.” The second I set foot in Akutagawa’s room, Miu started nudging Kotobuki toward me. Kotobuki was struggling against her and turned her gaze on me with a troubled, angry-looking face. “I’m sorry, Kotobuki.” I apologized meekly and Kotobuki’s voice choked off. “You’re not seriously going to let him off the hook with just that, are you? If you act that indulgent, no question he’s going to do it again. You’ve been getting played for a fool from the start.” “Th-that’s not what happened!” “Wow. Konoha never once broke a promise to me, you know. Not even to go play with his friends. He put me first and turned them down.” “Urk… is—is that true, Inoue?” “Umm, well…” “Not to mention weighing another woman against his girlfriend and then deciding to ditch his girlfriend. That’s out of the question. If he did that to me, I’d never speak to him again.” “Inoue had his reasons, Asakura. He was really worried about Kotobuki. To the point that he sent me to her. That’s proof that he cares about her.” Akutagawa took up the battle for me. “I really am sorry. Ryuto called me up, sobbing that Tohko was in trouble, so… it threw me off…” “You get tricked by Sakurai so often, I dunno if you’re innocent or if you just don’t learn. That’s called being stupid.” “… Why don’t we excuse ourselves, Asakura?” “But then there wasn’t any point in waiting for him to get here. You can go wherever you want by yourself, can’t you, Kazushi? Right, Kotobuki?” Holding herself up on her crutch, Miu suddenly shoved Kotobuki forward with her other hand. “Eek!” “Agh!” I hurried to catch Kotobuki as she toppled over. “A-are you okay?” As I looked down at her, holding her in my arms, Kotobuki’s eyes watered and her jaw locked. A shock went through me, seeing her look as if she might burst into tears any second. “I… didn’t tell you I get superjealous, Inoue?” “Wh—? Uh… yeah.” Suddenly there was a loud noise and my cheek burned. Her right hand still in the air, Kotobuki glared at me, lips pursed. I was dazed as she said, all in an angry rush, “You jerk! You’re such a jerk! Why did you go see Tohko?! E-even if you do have a reason, it ticks me off… I was looking forward to the movie! And then we were supposed to go to your house afterward—I was looking forward to it… so, so much. And then you did that! I ate all the cookies I brought with me! Even though I made them for you! I hate, hate, hate you! You two-timer!” She walloped me in the head again, this time with her hand squeezed into a fist. Behind her, Miu shrugged her shoulders and Akutagawa was gaping. Kotobuki was panting, her shoulders heaving, when suddenly her face crumpled and her expression became dejected and sad. “I… I’m really angry. It feels like my chest is going to rip itself apart, I’m so jealous of Tohko.” Hearing those words, seeing her face, it felt like my heart would break apart, too. I made Kotobuki sad so, so often. Even though she was my girlfriend. “I’m angry… about a lot of stuff. So I don’t mean this forever, but… don’t talk to me for a little while!” She dropped her clenched hand and spun on her heel. Unlike Tohko, her small frame was obviously shaking. “Y-your bathroom?” she said roughly to Akutagawa. “I need to use your bathroom.” “R-right…” Akutagawa went with Kotobuki out of the room. She kept her eyes turned away, trying not to look at me. Her face was trembling with frailty, even in profile. Out of nowhere, I got hit on the cheek again. There was a sharp crack. It was Miu who’d hit me this time. Her large eyes shone with displeasure. I stood dazed, and this time she scratched me right across the face. “You’re a real professional at hurting girls, Konoha.” “Miu…” A chill went through my spine at the coldness in her voice. I felt like there was loathing in Miu’s eyes. That fact threw icy water over my body. “You’ve still got a spaced-out look on your face. Why don’t you wake up for a change? You still haven’t picked up on it? Tohko Amano is someone who doesn’t exist in the real world.” My heart gave a jolt. “Is that… from Kanako’s novel?” Her expression still hard, Miu stared straight into my face and said, “Yes, it is. I read The Immoral Passage. Toco is a girl who doesn’t exist—but it’s more than that. At the planetarium, she recited the last scene from Like the Open Sky from memory. But it wasn’t in the book. I wondered how she knew about your first draft, and it bugged me. “I found out from Sakurai that his mom writes stuff. I never suspected she was Kanako Sakurai. But after what happened at the planetarium, I read your book over again and saw Kanako Sakurai’s name in the judge’s reviews and that made me realize. Tohko Amano is the baby Toco from Kanako Sakurai’s novel. “And if she had a connection to Kanako Sakurai, then it wasn’t strange for her to have read your first draft, either. She would also know that you’re Miu Inoue. But she was at your side, hiding that knowledge. She’d been keeping a secret from you—” Akutagawa and Kotobuki still hadn’t come back. Miu’s expression grew sharper and sharper. To the point that I thought maybe she still hated me— “Why didn’t she tell the truth? In order to make you write another book, right? The kind president who’s been at your side this whole time, protecting you—Tohko Amano who’s been with you for two years—is a convenient illusion!” Her fiery shout rose up alongside the pain that crushed my body. It wasn’t true! Tohko had kept quiet about the truth, but the kindness and warmth she had shown me were all genuine, too. And yet I hadn’t been able to forgive her one betrayal and had attacked her. I hadn’t tried to understand the pain or suffering Tohko felt, driven to such extremes that control of emotions was impossible. I’d run away, wanting to make myself the only victim. Even though Tohko had always been kind to me—always—and had constantly worried about me! Miu’s face crumpled suddenly and took on a sad, sympathetic look. “… Don’t make that face, like an abandoned puppy. You should face reality sooner rather than later. Because you have a girl who isn’t an illusion.” And then her eyes crinkled in an even sadder smile. “You know… Kotobuki didn’t cry once. There were a bunch of times she looked like was about to while she was waiting for you, but she stayed strong in front of us and she didn’t do it.” I realized now the reason why Kotobuki still hadn’t come back. She was obviously crying, alone in the bathroom, hiding her sobs… I hung my head and Miu kept talking. “Konoha, did you know that there’s a sequel to The Immoral Passage? It’s a short story that ran in a magazine and it was never made into a book, but…” The pitch of her voice grew slightly lower. “The doll of Toco grows up little by little, even though she’s a doll, until one day she moves of her own volition and kills Arisa.” The sliding door rattled, which made me shiver. I realized that Akutagawa and Kotobuki had returned, and the sweat that had broken out over my skin dried with a shuddering chill. Kotobuki’s eyes were red. When I saw that, a stab went through me. “Why don’t you stay the night, too, Inoue? It’s late. Asakura and Kotobuki, you two should head to bed soon. There are blankets in the guest room. You don’t mind staying with me, right, Inoue?” “Thanks. But I’m going to go home.” Her back turned, Kotobuki’s shoulders jerked. Akutagawa knit his brows. “You won’t be able to catch a cab in this neighborhood.” “I’ll work something out.” “Use my bike. You can just ride it to school, then.” “Thanks. I’ll do that.” Outside, it was bone-chillingly cold. It was nearing one o’clock at night. “Thanks for everything today, really.” “Be careful. Don’t get into any accidents.” I nodded and had set my feet on the pedals when Kotobuki came through the gate, her lips pursed. “I’ll see you.” Akutagawa patted my shoulder and walked away. Kotobuki’s face tightened and she was glaring at me, but she stuck out a hand without a word. Gloves? “… Your hands are going to get numb on a bike.” “You brought these out for me?” Without replying, she whipped her face sharply away. I accepted them and slipped them on with a feeling that warmed my heart. The cutesy pink gloves enveloped my hands in warmth. “Thanks.” Her face still turned away, Kotobuki bent her lips. Then all of a sudden, she said in a blunt voice, “I-I’m still mad, so don’t try and talk to me at school or anything. And I’m going in by myself in the morning, so don’t wait for me. B-but… if you think you still want to go out with me, then prove it.” “… Prove it?” Kotobuki looked up at me, glowering, and there was something vulnerable there—and yet she seemed to have planted her feet. “In return for what I did on Valentine’s Day… I want you to call me Nanase on the fourteenth. If you do that, I’ll trust you. Until then, I’m not going to talk to you.” She finished her blunt speech, turned her back, and ran off through the gate. After watching her go with a dismal feeling, I started pedaling the bike. The dark road, sunk in the silence of night, was like the limitless pitch black of outer space. As I lightly pedaled, I thought back over what Miu had said with a pain that twinged relentlessly. “You should face reality sooner rather than later. Because you have a girl who isn’t an illusion.” “The Tohko Amano who’s been with you for two years—is a convenient illusion!” My heart pounded heavily. The breath clinging to my face was lukewarm and white, and though my body was cold, the back of my throat was hot and prickly. I knew perfectly well who I should choose between Kotobuki and Tohko. “It’s fine.” The view of Tohko’s resolute frame when she had smiled and turned her back on me and Kotobuki’s precariously trembling back came to mind simultaneously and my throat hurt even worse. Tohko trying to leave me. Kotobuki coming toward me clumsily, persistently. Even though there could hardly be anyone but Kotobuki who would walk with me down the wide, warm path I wanted. Why did I end up thinking only of Tohko like this? “The doll of Toco grows up little by little, even though she’s a doll, until one day she moves of her own volition and kills Arisa.” What was it Miu had been saying? A doll killing someone? Toco killing Arisa? Tohko killing Kanako? No—that couldn’t be anything but fiction. To think of Tohko, who clung to Kanako almost despairingly, killing her— I stopped the bike in front of my house. Someone was crouching down beside the gate, hugging one knee to their chest. The lamp on the bicycle shone on Ryuto. He slowly lifted his head, and the face that looked up at me gave me a shock like a slap in the face. Ryuto was crying. It wasn’t the violent crying like when he’d come to my house before, clinging to me and bawling. It was quieter than that. Transparent tears fell over his cheeks from wide-open eyes. They were vulnerable tears that seemed to vanish in the air. His hair and clothes were disheveled, and sorrow and tortured pain hovered in his moist eyes along with deep despair. Was this another trap? Although this looked nothing like an act. Ryuto seemed so shredded and full of suffering that he honestly couldn’t stand. He made no sound; he didn’t even twitch. His tears simply continued flowing. I approached Ryuto, rolling the bike alongside me. In the still darkness, the rattling of the tires could be heard. “… What’s the matter?” Ryuto was looking up at me, his tears still flowing. A gaze ripe with suffering, as if begging for salvation, that seemed to say, “If I can’t have that, then kill me and let me be at peace.” He whispered powerlessly, his voice hoarse. “Konoha, there’s some things… you’re better off not knowin’. And once you find out… you can’t go back.” A tear dripped onto his knee. His torn jeans sucked the tear in and changed color. “I… can’t tell Tohko… nngh…” His throat trembling, he buried his face against his knee and wept quietly. The sight of him was so agonizing it dug at my heart. What had Ryuto found out that he was this tortured by it? “What can’t you tell her?” His face still lowered, Ryuto shook his head from side to side. I parked the bike in front of the gate and then laid a hand on Ryuto’s shoulder. “Let’s go in the house. You’ll catch cold.” Ryuto shook his head again and sobbed low. “Konoha… thank you for chasin’ Tohko down today. I can’t do anythin’ to save her now. I want her to be happy…’cos…’cos she’s special. But I can’t do it… I’ve been with her since I was a kid… but when it came down to it, I couldn’t do anythin’.” Ryuto’s tears were dropping into my heart, too. With each one, a soft region deep inside my chest burned. The almost irritating sense of melancholy made it difficult to breathe. Ryuto lifted his face, wet with tears, and looked at me. With a voice that threatened to break off, with an expression that did the same, he pieced his words together. “Konoha… please write. For Tohko. You’re the only one who can save her… Tohko made her decision a long time ago. I can’t stop her. But you’re her author… so if you write… nngh… that’s all I’d ever ask.” Sadness washed over my body. Ryuto… Tohko told me I didn’t have to write anymore. She said it was fine. She smiled quietly and turned her back. Seeing my face tight and silent, Ryuto seemed even more deeply despondent. He dropped his head and scrubbed at it, curling into a ball and weeping at my feet. Finally he stood sluggishly and stumbled off. “Ryuto…” Even when I called to him, he never turned around as he departed. Do you think I’ll ever be able to see the narrow gate, too, Kana? Do you think I’ll have the courage to return everything I own to where it belongs, to say everything that needs to be said, to trust myself to the person I must trust and pass alone through that gate? I was brushing Tohko’s hair, thinking about that, when suddenly I felt as if my heart was breaking, and I held Tohko in my arms and cried. Tohko was so surprised. I told her, “I love you, Tohko, I love you so much,” and Tohko did her best to tell me, “I love you, too,” and then my chest hurt even more. “Why are you crying, Mommy? Did you have a fight with Daddy? Did Daddy do something wrong? Huh? Mommy?” “No… no, it’s not that. Mommy’s happy. She’s so very happy that it made her cry.” I don’t know what I should do, Kana. I’m the one who triggered it. If I hadn’t acted so stupidly, nothing would have happened between us. Fate turned around somewhere beyond my reach. I know it’s not good for me to be with you. I’ll stop you from growing. I’ll get in the way. I know that, but I can’t help wanting to be with you. Like before, just the two of us, forever and ever— I don’t have to write. As long as we can be together, I never have to write a novel! I want to scream that. God, please never make me say that. If that day comes, I hope that I’ll be able to smile sunnily, as if I had nothing at all to be sad about, and go through the gate.