“Here.”
Miori took him to the south gate of Ofuna Station. They were outside a tonkatsu shop on the first floor of the building opposite.
“Why tonkatsu?”
“I’ve got you with me, Azusagawa. Figured I’d try a place that’s hard to enter on my own.”
That was a very college-girl sentiment.
“Hellooo!” she cried, stepping in.
“Clearly not that hard,” he muttered to no one in particular, then followed her in.
“Welcome!” the waitress said cheerily. She led them to a four-top, and they settled in. It was only just past five, so the place was still pretty empty—just a pair of suits in the corner. Likely salesman wrapping up their shift. They looked the type.
Since he was here, he’d have to order something. Sakuta glanced over the menu and went with the classic pork loin katsu. Miori dithered for ages and then ordered something called the Black Katsu Curry.
“So what did you wanna talk about, Mitou?” he asked, after taking a sip of water.
“Gimme a sec.”
Miori reached for her tote bag. Pulled out the laptop with the fruit logo.
She booted it up on the table next to them.
Tapped a few keys and turned it sideways so he could see.
“This,” she said.
She had a video-streaming site pulled up, with a triangular play button in the center.
The still frame showed only darkness.
“I can’t see anything?”
“You’re about to,” Miori said, hitting the play button.
The video opened on a smallish indoor venue. The stage was being filmed vertically from someone’s phone. The stage reminded him of something.
“Isn’t that our college?”
“Yep. This is the beauty contest from last year—or I guess the year before last, now.”
She had the volume turned down low, so he leaned in to listen. There was a crowd murmur, like a theater before the movie. Everyone waited with bated breath.
“There, see?”
Miori pointed at the screen just as a college girl entered from the wings. She wore a pure-white dress, her back ramrod straight, her heels clicking on the floor. Nene Iwamizawa, doing a classic model walk.
The MC said, “Entry number one, Nene Iwamizawa. Demonstrating her talent.”
To a round of applause, Nene sat down before the piano.
She took a deep breath.
And the noise of the crowd died away.
A moment later, Nene’s fingers danced across the keys, playing a melody he’d heard before.
“That one of Touko Kirishima’s songs?” he asked, glancing at Miori.
She nodded wordlessly, eyes on the screen.
The long intro ended.
Nene closed her eyes, and her voice softly rippled out across the room. An invisible wave of song, washing through him.
The feel of it lapping at him came after, a rush of emotion rising up from his feet and cresting at the top of his head.
The crowd was rendered speechless. Everyone there had likely meant to cheer, to clap, to go wild…to get themselves hyped up. Instead, they were overwhelmed.
Her voice was just that powerful.
Sakuta’s own jaw dropped and stayed that way for the duration of the video.
Nene’s song ended, her talons still in the heart of everyone present.
The piano part ended shortly after.
But still the hall stayed silent.
Only when Nene rose to her feet did they erupt. Excitement was evident in their roars.
“Wow!”
“Amazing!”
“Like the real thing!”
Call after call. People whistled.
The applause went on and on.
Their enthusiasm showed no signs of fading.
It seemed ready to last forever.
The video ended first.
It cut to black while the crowd was still at a fever pitch.
“The replay number is nuts,” Miori said, pointing to the stats.
“Two million…”
That’s what it said.
“And these comments,” Miori said, scrolling down.
So good.
She’s legit great.
And sounds just like Touko Kirishima.
Their voices are identical.
Is she the real deal?
Someone prove it!
She’s clearly Touko Kirishima.
“The last comment was left in April. Ten months ago.”
“After that, no one could perceive her?”
That was probably an accurate guess.
“Do we have Touko Kirishima singing this same song?”
“Right over here.”
Miori had the URL ready. She must have known he’d ask.
She pressed play.
A music video started playing. A tin reindeer toy sat on a swing in a children’s park. He’d seen that toy before.
“That reindeer…”
The one Nene had him buy on their trip to Motomachi, in the Yamate Santa house.
As he was distracted by that, the prelude ended, and the verse began. The first syllable alone grabbed his attention. That’s how similar it sounded to Nene Iwamizawa’s own performance. The first and second verses, the chorus, even the bridge—none of it sounded any different.
If he hadn’t known better, he’d never even have suspected they weren’t the same singer. He’d have simply assumed they were.
It was plain as day why those comments had been full of people claiming Nene was the real deal.
“Based on this alone, I’m inclined to think she is Touko Kirishima.”
“Lots of people online thought so, too.”
Comparing the two videos had only made it more convincing.
“Nene Iwamizawa’s account got a lot of posts asking if it was true.”
“You sure looked into this, Mitou.”
“I mean, if only you and I can see her—that’s pretty scary.”
A very valid point.
“So what’s your take?”
“On what?”
“Whether they sound alike.”
“They do?”
But that sounded like a question.
“You don’t think she’s the real thing?”
“See, I also found this.”
Miori reached out and switched to a new tab.
This showed a whole list of posted videos. She scrolled down, and it went on for a while—there were easily over a hundred of them.
Every thumbnail had Touko Kirishima’s name.
Miori clicked one at random.
The song playing was the same one they’d just heard in two separate versions. On-screen was what looked like a recording studio, and the girl singing was in her early twenties, with long hair. The camera was placed directly to her side.
Her voice sounded just like Nene’s. Or just like Touko Kirishima’s.
At the least, a single listen was not enough to declare it different.
“What is this?” he asked, giving Miori a baffled look.
“Totally normal videos you find when searching Touko Kirishima’s name online. There’s hundreds of them.”
“And they’re all just like her?”
“Mm-hmm.”
She nodded emphatically.
“And the comments are sure they’ve found the real one.”
Miori’s finger slid down the track pad.
This one’s real!
We found Touko Kirishima!
We’ve got her this time!
More or less the same things as on Nene’s video.
“Play count is roughly the same.”
Miori didn’t seem to know what to make of this.
“Two million?”
She nodded.
“The upload dates are all over the place, but on every video—the comments abruptly die off. Just like they do with Nene Iwamizawa.”
Miori was even less sure what to make of that information.
Sakuta was starting to get her point—but also didn’t know what to do with it. If he’d looked in a mirror, he would’ve seen that his expression was the spitting image of Miori’s.
“I find this hard to believe…but do we think nobody can see these people, either?” Miori asked.
A strained smile appeared on her face.
“I sure hope not…”
Not wanting to finish that thought, Sakuta trailed off.
It felt possible.
And that was why Miori was asking.
And why he could only answer with an awkward wince.
The silence was excruciating.
“Yikes.”
“Yikes, indeed.”
Nothing they could say would alleviate their concern.
All they could do was give each other forced smiles.
At which point…
“Here you are,” the waitress said, setting two trays down.
One had Sakuta’s pork loin katsu set.
And the other had Miori’s Black Katsu Curry.
“Uh, excuse me…,” he said, catching the waitress’s attention before she turned away.
“Yes? What is it?” she asked, smiling.
“Mind watching this video for a moment?”
He glanced at Miori, who held up the laptop for the lady to see. The video was already running.
It showed the same twentysomething girl they’d been watching.
“Video? Sorry, I’m not seeing anything.”
“Do you hear any music?” he asked. Miori turned the volume up.
Loud enough to be heard throughout the shop.
“I might not be young enough,” the lady laughed. “Is this the mosquito-alarm thing? Oh dear, I’m not ready to be old!”
“Thanks,” he said. “Bit of a weird ask, but it helped.”
“Oh? Well, enjoy.”
She saw someone new come in and went off to welcome them.
Miori quietly closed the laptop and put it back in her bag.
“Extra yikes.”
Her smile was very strained.
He imagined his was, too.
He really meant it when he said, “Yikes is the word.”
Miori lost half her smile.
Sakuta’s was surely faltering just as much.
“Guess we should eat.”
The one salvation here—the pork loin katsu and the Black Katsu Curry both looked very good.
“Yeah. Let’s do that.”
“Let’s.”