THE ENTRANCE TO THE SCHOOL was deserted.
When she reached the bicycle parking area, she hesitated to leave her bike in the space reserved for her class, and instead parked it in the eighth graders’ area.
It still hurt to remember what Miori and her boyfriend had done to her here last spring.
But today, no one was around. And it was another season.
She could hear the sound of lessons taking place inside the school. The sound of teachers lecturing. Not many students speaking, though.
She slipped off her shoes in front of the cubbyholes at the entrance where students stored their outside shoes.
The action was so familiar, but as she located her cubbyhole, an invisible force made her chest tighten.
She felt a gaze from the side, and when she glanced over, her eyes widened.
The other girl’s eyes widened, too. It was Moé Tojo. The girl who lived two doors away on her street.
They were both speechless.
Tojo-san was wearing a jersey and carried a school-approved satchel. She seemed to have just arrived too. She was as pretty as ever – with her perfect nose and her round eyes with a touch of light brown, an almost European look.
If there had been plenty of students around them, Kokoro could have looked away, but it was just the two of them.
A physical pain ran across her shoulders, down her back, through her entire body.
And she was reminded, Ah – this is how it feels.
She had intended never to forget the pain, but now she realized she had actually begun to forget. Until last May, she’d had this sensation every single day. Her stomach heavy and aching.
I don’t want to go in, she shouted inside. But then Tojo-san made a move.
She suddenly reached out to retrieve her slippers from her cubbyhole. She put them on, averting her eyes from Kokoro, and without a word started walking briskly down the corridor. Heading towards the stairs that led to her classroom.
Moé had left her behind, completely ignoring her.
Her figure grew smaller before she disappeared up the stairs. She’d definitely given Kokoro a good look. Those mesmerizing, doll-like eyes, which Kokoro once felt so compelled to stare at, had swiftly blanked her.
So you’re back, eh?
She’d been expecting some remark, even if it was sarcastic. Just a word or two.
Things around her started spinning.
Her breathing grew shallow. As if she were in water, drowning. Moé had once delivered handouts every day from school, she thought, but now she can’t even say a word to me?
Why would she be here at the school entrance at this time of morning? This is the only time I could bear to come in. But you – you can just march in any time you want.
She’d been so looking forward to seeing Masamune and the rest, but that happy anticipation now began to wither. Someone, help me! She felt weak as she leaned against the cubbyholes.
Kokoro had been picturing her slippers, and her desk, covered in graffiti. The depictions of bullying on TV always showed such things happening. The kid who wouldn’t come to school always found her chair and desk with vicious messages like Die! scrawled all over them.
No matter how often she told herself that what was between Miori Sanada and her wasn’t bullying, she was still terrified of it happening to her.
But nobody had written graffiti on her slippers, or filled them with thumbtacks. Instead, she spotted a letter.
An envelope with a small bunny sticker on it.
Hand trembling, she picked it up.
The sender’s name was on the back of the envelope.
It was from Miori Sanada.
A deafening noise rang through her ears, a smashing of glass as if the world was splintering. She ripped open the envelope.
Dear Kokoro Anzai,
I heard from Mr Ida that you would be coming to school and he advised me to write a letter to you, so I have.
I know you hate me. But I’d still like to meet you and talk.
You must think I’m horrible for suggesting it.
I know you’re upset by what happened with you-know-who (but don’t worry, I didn’t tell Mr Ida about him. Actually, I broke up with him in the summer. I thought if you still like him, I’d cheer you on).
Miori
Her hand shook even harder.
What the hell is this?
She recalled the laughing, playful banter: Mr Ida, do you have a girlfriend? Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you! She remembered Tojo-san’s cold eyes, and how she’d blanked her, and then she began to hear her own blood boiling in the veins of her temples.
She screwed the letter up tightly and put on her slippers. She pushed her toes right inside, squashing down the backs with her heels, and headed off to the nurse’s office.
If she could get there quickly, she’d be able to breathe again.
She shut her eyes and took a gulp of air, but no matter how many breaths she took her chest still hurt, and she felt herself drowning all the more.
If only she could get to the nurse’s office, Masamune would be there.
Her friends would be waiting.
All of them.
She wanted to show Masamune the letter, and hear him say, ‘What a load of crap. What a moron she is.’
My thoughts exactly, Kokoro thought.
Tojo-san had spotted her, so the news that she was at school would surely reach Miori’s ears, and quickly too. Lessons had begun, but Kokoro could picture Tojo-san scuttling over to Miori’s desk the moment the bell went.
‘Hey, you know what? She’s here.’
Kokoro felt faint.
I know you hate me. But I’d still like to meet you and talk.
Her body literally shook.
She turned the door handle to the nurse’s office.
If some of her friends hadn’t turned up, that would be OK. To see just one of their faces would be such a relief she might break down in tears.
She pushed open the door.
The nurse was sitting at her desk. Alone.
There was a space heater emitting a red glow. The nurse was seated in front of it. Kokoro knew the school nurse by sight but had never talked to her. She seemed to be expecting Kokoro. Mr Ida must have let her know.
‘Anzai-san?’ the nurse asked, looking at her in surprise.
‘Is Masamune …’
She was gasping, her voice reedy and trembling.
She looked over to check if anyone was lying on the bed. But no one was.
‘Hm?’ the nurse said, inclining her head. ‘Masa – who?’
‘Masamune … kun. In eighth grade. Did he come here today?’
Which class in eighth grade was he in?
He’d told her, but her mind was so jumbled she couldn’t recall. Fuka was, she was sure, in Classroom 3. Kokoro’s speech sped up.
‘Did Fuka-chan in eighth grade, Classroom 3 come too? And Subaru-kun, and Aki-chan, both in ninth grade?’
As she got the words out, she realized that without their last names the nurse would have no idea who she was talking about. Unless you were particularly close to someone, students didn’t call each other by their first name. Kokoro suddenly reddened at having called Masamune by his first name to the nurse.
Still lingering in the doorway, she decided that if no one appeared, she’d go to Subaru’s classroom, where he said he’d be waiting. She could see him, easy-going, cool. ‘Hey, so what’s up?’ he’d say.
‘Anzai-san, please don’t stress, come in and sit down,’ the nurse was saying.
‘Then what about Ureshino-kun, from seventh grade?’
Kokoro suddenly remembered that she knew Ureshino’s full name. After his incident last semester, the teachers must surely remember him.
‘Haruka Ureshino. Did he come by to see you today?’
As she spoke, an uneasiness came over her.
Masamune, Aki, Subaru, Kokoro – weren’t the teachers surprised all these kids who’d been absent so long suddenly turned up on the same day? Wouldn’t their parents contact their homeroom teachers, as Kokoro’s mother had done with Mr Ida?
The school nurse gazed patiently at Kokoro, a look of confusion in her eyes.
‘Ureshino-kun?’ she said. ‘I’m sure there’s no seventh-grader with that name.’
Kokoro felt like a huge gust of wind had struck her. The nurse looked genuinely perplexed.
Haruka Ureshino. An unusual first and last name. She had to know him.
A sudden thought hit her – what if Ureshino had lied? What if he was the only one who wasn’t at Yukishina No. 5 Junior High but had lied about it to go along with the others?
The school nurse frowned doubtfully.
‘And I don’t think there’s anyone with the first name Masamune in eighth grade, either. Aki-chan, Fuka-chan – I’m trying to think if I know them. What are their last names?’
‘Their last names …’
Instinctively, she knew. She knew it for certain. Not in her mind, but in her gut. They’re not here.
Why she knew this, she wasn’t sure. She became convinced she would never be able to see Masamune and the others in their world outside the castle.
‘Masamune,’ she said quietly. ‘What am I supposed to do?’ And she felt that she was about to cry.
What the hell? Are you trying to show me how heroic you are by saying you’ll go in with me, even with all that crap that happened to you? Are you trying to show me how hard it will be for you?
She remembered Masamune’s snarky reaction.
Masamune had agreed to come because he thought they’d all be there too.
This means we’ve betrayed him.
A picture came to her, clear as a bell, of Masamune alone, dazed, in the nurse’s office. She felt like making a run for it in search of help. And then someone said her name:
‘Kokoro-chan.’
It was a soft voice. She turned around. In the doorway stood Ms Kitajima.
She reached out a warm hand and touched her shoulder, and all Kokoro’s tension drained away.
‘Ms Kitajima …’
A faint sound came out of her, as if air from deep in her throat were being expelled, and then Kokoro collapsed to the floor. With a crack, everything went black.