As he looked at the books on the tiered shelf, he heard a bell at his feet. Sumi had come over to him from wherever she had been hiding. He bent down and held out the back of his hand to her, and she rubbed against it.
Now that Keiichi thought about it, he realized that he hadn’t seen Haruka. Where had he gone, leaving a person who wasn’t used to tending the store and a literal scaredy-cat alone?
Keiichi looked around the shelves. Triple Sec only had three books left on it. The rest had sold within five days. Back when he’d first started owning his shelf, he’d thought that even selling a couple a month would be good, so this was surprising. Still, he was thankful that there were people who were interested enough to pick one up. Renting a shelf at a shared bookstore was one of the little ways he could show his fandom as a booklover.
The Hammock Cat was selling steadily as well. He picked up a book from the shelf. It was a book about urban design, with a photo of the streets of Paris on the cover.
Rintarou was unaware of this, but his broad interests and ability to accept things so honestly was a strength. If he managed to get an interviewer who could pick that sort of stuff out of a conversation, then he shouldn’t have any trouble getting a job. The kid was worrying about it, but it really felt like he just needed to meet the right people.
Keiichi decided to buy the book he was holding, to contribute to Rintarou’s sales. It might not have been a book he would have usually picked up, but knowing the seller’s background made him interested. It felt like that alone made it exactly the sort of book you’d buy at Frère.
Just as he was about to head to the next shelf, he heard thunder roar. He looked over to the window to see the wind was blowing the pounding rain against it, making it shake like a curtain. The woman minding the store was watching it from her spot behind the register counter.
Bending down, Keiichi peeked at the Sayokyoku shelf. The memo block was gone, and there were now two handmade books with red paper covers. They were bound using a method called “four-hole binding,” where you would poke four small holes along the spine and sew them together with string. From the sags in the binding string and the bends in the spine, he could tell at a glance how shoddily made they were. They were clearly a small-scale publication by the creator.
He looked the book all over, but there was no title written on it. There wasn’t one on the pricing card either. When he flipped through the pages, he found the author’s name on the table of contents. It said “Sayaka.” She’d made the books.
When he stood up with one of the books in his hand, he heard the sound of footsteps behind him.
“Do you live in the area?”
Turning around, he found Sayaka standing nearby. She was clutching a navy-blue foldable umbrella, the same color as her dress, in her hands. “It’s really coming down out there,” she said simply, pushing the umbrella toward him.
He didn’t remember there being any spare umbrellas in the store, so was she giving him her own? Baffled, Keiichi answered calmly, “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“But the book. The one in your hands, I wrote it,” she said, frowning with a serious look in her eyes.
Keiichi nearly laughed in shock, turning his head away. Here, he’d thought she was sacrificing herself by giving a stranger her umbrella, but it was to protect her book.
“If the rain doesn’t stop soon, I’ll just come to get the book tomorrow,” he said, gently turning her down. Her gaze remained focused on the floor, hands shaking as she clutched the umbrella. Maybe his height was making him look intimidating. Intentionally softening his voice further, he asked, “You bound these yourself? That must have been difficult.”
He’d thought that maybe talking about something she was interested in might help make her less nervous, but Sayaka raised her face, opening her tightly sealed lips. “I think whether it was difficult or not depends on the person doing it.”
Well, yeah. Was she answering in a general sense rather than a personal sense because she didn’t want to reveal how hard she’d worked? Or was she trying to say that she wasn’t going to answer anything about herself?
“I’ll read this, then.”
When he headed for the counter, she followed behind him, slipping behind the register. When he asked how much it came to while pulling out his wallet, she just handed him the book, telling him that she’d give it to him.
“That’s a bit…”
Keiichi pulled out the sales card from the books, put them on the register, and placed the added sum on the coin tray. She nodded and started tapping away at the calculator to make sure it was correct. She then messed up, started again, and messed up a few more times.
Thinking him watching her was the problem, he looked away, only to see three of the books from Triple Sec stacked under the register. The sales cards were already removed. Haruka almost never read novels, so he was pretty sure he hadn’t bought them. That meant she had.
“Um. I’m Kajiwara, the shelf owner of Triple Sec. Those were off my shelf, right? Thank you.”
She turned back to face him, completely flustered and her gaze swimming nervously. It almost felt like she hadn’t wanted him to see the books at all.
“There’s a piece of paper at the very back with my impressions, so give it a read once you’re finished if you like.”
He’d said it with a smile, but Sayaka’s eyes started welling up. She apologized, voice quivering as she turned away. She then took off her glasses and rubbed at her eyes. Sniffles soon followed.
Wait. Did I say something to upset her?
Keiichi thought back over what they’d said so far, not knowing how to continue. Still turned away from him, Sayaka wordlessly shoved the drink menu his way.
“Oh, no, that’s okay. I’ll just be on my way.” He had no idea why she was crying, but it looked like it was his fault. He’d refused the menu in an attempt to be considerate, but it was still pouring rain outside. “Is there anywhere I could leave my books for now?” he asked.
“Please order a drink. I want to talk to you,” she begged, voice still teary.