February 3. Setsubun.
By three thirty, the sun was already pretty low in the west.
Sakuta was outside a three-story apartment building about ten minutes on foot from Kanazawa-hakkei Station.
“This the place?”
The lot number on the utility pole matched the address he’d scribbled on a Post-it Note.
He’d taken that from the message Touko had left on his answering machine two nights earlier. He’d called back to see what was up, but she hadn’t answered.
With no other option, he’d gone where she told him to.
He had to talk to Touko, either way.
The note specified room 201.
He went up the stairs and checked the door. Number 201 was at the far end.
No name on the tag.
Just a blank, utilitarian door.
He had no clue who lived here.
If he rang the intercom, he might find himself face-to-face with a total stranger.
But hovering around outside a random apartment just made him look suspicious. He quit dithering and pressed the button.
He heard a bell ring inside.
The button worked, at least.
“Hope I’m not stepping into the lion’s den.”
Sakuta perked up when he heard footsteps inside coming toward him. They stopped at the door, and he heard the lock turn. The door swung open.
A familiar face popped out.
Touko, in her miniskirt Santa duds.
The very girl who’d called him here.
“I came like you said.”
“Drop these in the dumpster below,” she said, handing him two very full bags in lieu of a greeting.
“What are they?” he asked. They were both very heavy.
“Go on,” she said, not answering. The door closed.
Standing outside with two bags of trash made him look so sketchy. He didn’t want a neighbor calling the cops on him. Nene was invisible and would not be able to vouch for him.
That left him carrying the trash back down the stairs he’d just come up. The plastic was transparent enough that he could tell it was mostly clothing.
Quite a lot of it.
A few years’ worth.
This that decluttering thing?
He reached the bottom of the stairs, located the metal container where the residents disposed of their trash, and opened the lid.
He picked one bag up and tossed it in. As he threw the second in, he heard a clunk.
“Hmm?”
He was unaware of the contents, and curiosity got the better of him.
This might not be something that should go in the regular trash. She’d asked him to do this, but he was the one dropping it here; best to sort it properly.
He yanked the bag back out of the dumpster and checked the bottom. Something gleamed through the bag. By the sound of it, not anything plastic. Glass or at least plexiglass.
He opened the bag to double-check.
And soon identified the object.
“Her beauty contest trophy.”
The name of the contest was carved into the side.
And no surprise, the winner’s name was Nene Iwamizawa.
Was this something you threw away?
Presumably, she thought so, or she wouldn’t have put it in the bag.
Sakuta thought about it for a minute, then tossed the bag of clothes back in the dumpster. If he threw the trophy out here, that would make it his fault.
He went back up the stairs, inspecting the trophy for any damage. Outside her door, he rang the bell again.
“Took you long enough,” she said grumpily.
“Most people would say thank you first.”
“Thank you, you were such a help.”
“And did you mean to throw this out?”
He showed Touko the trophy.
She looked down at his hands. Right at it.
“Do you often put things in the trash you don’t mean to throw away?” she asked.
“I don’t.”
“Good! We’re the same.”
“Isn’t this important, though? To Nene Iwamizawa?”
He gave the name on the trophy a pointed glance.
“Who’s that?” she asked, like it wasn’t her.
“Your name.”
“What are you talking about? I’m Touko Kirishima.”
Touko was acting entirely natural. Reacting to his words. No interest in the trophy at all. She’d barely glanced at it. Didn’t seem to be feigning indifference. Just didn’t care, like it wasn’t hers to begin with. Touko didn’t seem to have any attachment to the trophy at all.
On Nene Iwamizawa’s social media, she’d sounded beyond thrilled to win the competition. Expressed her delight, thanked everyone who’d made it possible…
This trophy was proof of that accomplishment. Would she really just toss it out?
Touko’s attitude was all too clear, and that’s what bothered him. Something felt wrong. Unsettling.
She’d said “Who’s that?” like they were talking about a stranger.
He’d picked up on nothing like this on their trip to Motomachi.
But Sakuta wasn’t really sure what the nature of this oddity was.
He knew something was wrong, but not what.
Arguably, Touko had always been kinda weird about this stuff.
“Come on in,” she said, opening the door all the way.
“Thanks,” he said, putting his doubts aside. He stepped through the door, figuring she hadn’t called him all the way here just to take out her trash.
“Use those slippers.”
The doormat had a Christmas tree on it, and the slippers were adorned with reindeer. Certainly matching the miniskirt Santa theme.
It didn’t seem weird yet.
He just figured it was her thing.
Just past the entrance was a small kitchen, with three doors leading out. Two were likely to the bath and the toilet. Touko opened the third door, which led to the main room. A decent-sized studio.
“Make yourself at home,” she said, moving on in.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
Sakuta started to follow her—but soon ground to a halt.
“……”
The moment he caught a glimpse of the room beyond, surprise ripped through him, and he stopped on pure reflex.
For the simple reason that the interior was beyond his wildest imaginings.
The object in the center first drew his eye—a Christmas tree, decked out in gold and silver ornaments. It was about the same height as Sakuta himself.
On the shelves by the wall were pine cone trees, snow globes, and Santa dolls. Among these was the tin reindeer she’d had him buy in Motomachi. There was a little sled filled with gift boxes.
The only normal objects in the room were the sleeper sofa and a work desk, on which sat a laptop with a fruit logo. Everything else was coated in Santa Claus and Christmas.
Definitely not your typical college-girl pad. He could have dealt with this if it had actually been that time of year and she was having friends over for a Christmas party. But it was February 3. Setsubun—a completely different holiday.
“Don’t just stand there. Come.”
“A very unique room,” he said.
Arguably, this was the kind of place a miniskirt Santa would live.
From the description alone, it might even sound festive. Children might like it! But after seeing it with his own eyes, fear was winning out.
Sakuta looked around again, and a stuffed Santa looked back at him. Beady little eyes, staring. He wanted to turn around and go home. Prolonged exposure to this place might drive him mad.
“Put this together.”
Oblivious to his state of mind, Touko moved a folding table from the corner to the floor by the tree.
On the table were toy blocks made by a Danish company. Pieces were everywhere, and the set was only half-assembled.
“Boys are good at these things, yes?”
“I imagine not all of us.”
“But you?”
“I do all right.”