∗∗∗
KANSUKE Mishima had felt the lingering remnants of the power Akari had invoked in him dissipating.
And yet, it seemed he could still roam freely around this Bookhouse. He felt no particular inconvenience from the lack of power. Why not stay awhile?
Kansuke found his thoughts returning to the girl who’d summoned him.
Black hair tied neatly back, a little poor looking. The kind of girl you could find anywhere. And yet, the way the words had rolled so lightly off her tongue as she’d narrated his Kotogatari…it resonated with Kansuke’s very soul.
In the few days he’d spent around her, it had become clear that she had no interest in stories and that she’d received no training as a Narrator.
But her narration… It was a perfect composition, like a traditional poem. An invocation of the gods. A true narration.
Kansuke had never been able to remain materialized for so long from just a single narration.
And he found himself glad…glad to still be here. How odd.
When he looked into her earnest, deep-brown eyes he recalled his sister, not his lord. Perhaps that was why.
Akari had called Kansuke a “hero among warriors,” but he knew he was worthless. His sister, however, used to say the same thing.
“You are the finest hero in all the land, big brother.”
Whenever Kansuke left for one of his lord’s certain-death missions, she was the only member of his family to come and see him off. And each time, her words gave him courage. When his lord had started to become corrupt and Kansuke was preparing for what had to be done, his sister was by his side. But he hadn’t been able to save her, in the end.
Just remembering what happened made the blood rush to Kansuke’s head.
When his lord had forced him to look upon his sister’s corpse, laughing at him, Kansuke had indeed felt his soul sink to the depths, felt himself becoming a demigod. Yes, his soul had been tainted; there was no denying that.
Yet, even while knowing that about him, Akari had given him a glowing narration.
And that narration had done something to him. It had brought the memory of his sister’s lovely smile back to his heart.
If Akari refused to become a Narrator, then that was her business. But Kansuke had made a decision: to be the sort of man she’d described as she narrated his book.
Perhaps he had unfinished business here after all.
Kansuke ascended the stairs and reached the second floor of the Bookhouse, where a shadow stepped forth.
It was Tomohito, glowering at him. Kansuke raised a hand in greeting.
“Nice night, eh, Tomohito?”
“What are you doing? There’s nothing on this floor except for Mistress Akari’s room.”
Akari may not have been familiar with this cold, unflinching stare of Tomohito’s, but Kansuke knew it of old. Never before had he seen Tomohito so desperately devoted to any human, though…
Not wanting to get into an argument, Kansuke got straight to the point.
“I didn’t come here to see the young girly; I came to see you.”
“Well, I don’t want to talk to you. And it is an improper hour to be visiting a lady in her room, so please go back downstairs at once.”
So she’s been teaching you about the customs of human ladies, has she? Kansuke fought back a smirk.
Then he jerked his chin at the white gloves Tomohito wore.
“Not going to take those off?”
“…I am still on duty.”
“Never mind that. Show me your hands.”
Tomohito’s face fell as Kansuke regarded him solemnly. The young Kotogami curled his white-gloved hands into fists, perhaps unconsciously.
Kansuke had already noticed that Tomohito had been wearing the gloves constantly for the past few days. And Kansuke knew what the Kotogami was trying to hide too.
“Why don’t you take them off?”
“There is no real reason.”
Kansuke narrowed his eyes at Tomohito, who remained stubborn but seemed to waver ever so slightly.
Why was Kansuke here, anyway? His Kotogatari was a banned book. How had it ended up in this Bookhouse? Actually, Kansuke knew why. It was because of this Kotogami. He had been brought here as insurance, as defense against Tomohito, if the worst-case scenario should occur.
The samurai Kansuke Mishima had been the strongest force against evil spirits and demons that had ever walked the earth. As such, his Kotogami could be considered physically superior to all the others in existence. If one possessed the original Kansuke Mishima Kotogatari, one had nothing to fear, even in a house full of book spirits.
This was even more true because he was an original text and not a copy. And yet he had been left to linger on a shelf.
The Kotogami Tomohito Yagyou, however, had been wandering about calmly and freely and, more importantly, unguarded ever since Kansuke had been brought to the Bookhouse.
None of the Narrators who had been assigned here had noticed anything strange.
Tomohito had always kept himself at a reserved distance from those Narrators, and as such they had confused him for a weak spirit, only fit for clerical work. Even while helping Mayoi, he had made sure to keep himself inconspicuous.
From his shelf, Kansuke had been surprised when Tomohito began wandering the city, and even more surprised when he had brought home a human. Not just any human either, but a human woman at that.
Even from within his Kotogatari, Kansuke had observed how Tomohito fussed over the young lady. His estimation of Tomohito had come crashing down when he’d seen that.
The Tomohito Yagyou whom Kansuke knew was a crafty beast. And dangerous too.
He’d been docile so far, but he could change in a second if he found something that interested him. But why had he brought that ordinary-looking woman to the Bookhouse? Kansuke had been burning with curiosity at first. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course.
Tomohito frowned at him now, still grasping the hand that had been burned by Kansuke’s mystical sword.
“Please do not tell Mistress Akari how bad it is.”
“You’re bound to her, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
Before that girl had come along, Kansuke had never seen Tomohito act so human.
But he’d already figured out why.
“Even though she’s the reason you were enshrined in a Kotogatari in the first place?”
All expression drained from Tomohito’s face.
Kansuke continued before Tomohito could say anything else.
“I saw flashes of what went down between you two when I was inside her body.”
“Ah, I see now. You and Akari joined souls in one body, sharing minds, memories. I have heard of such things occurring.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I understand why you did what you did. But I can’t figure out your endgame. If you wanted to finish her off, why bring me along for protection? And why bring her here in the first place, if not as a potential Narrator?”
Kansuke kept pressing as Tomohito’s shoulders relaxed just a little.
The samurai had only been able to view disjointed fragments of Akari’s childhood memories, but if what he saw was true, then he knew why Tomohito was so fixated on the girl. And yet, his actions were so contradictory.
“What do you intend to do to her?”
Kansuke touched the sword hanging at his waist as he pushed the issue further.
At a range this close, and with Tomohito being the way he was right now, Kansuke could take him down. And if he really did mean to harm the girl, then Kansuke had no qualms with executing him right then and there.
Nevertheless, despite seeming to pick up on Kansuke’s readiness to murder, Tomohito merely smiled beautifully.
“I will do nothing to her. My only wish is to see that sweet child happy once more.”
That sweet child…? Kansuke was taken aback.
“A story has to have a happy ending, after all, don’t you agree?”
As Kansuke gazed at Tomohito’s angelic face, the meaning behind those words began to sink in.
“Human beings need family, and a happy home. I took both away from her. But she has a tendency to attract the attentions of beasts. I wanted to be prepared, just in case…”
In his mind, Kansuke could see a little girl crying out from loneliness: Akari. And the cause of her loneliness was…
“Don’t tell me…you manifested Mayoi and me just for…”
“Leave Mayoi out of it. As for you…I don’t much like you, but I do respect your strength. You’re the only one who could take me on, after all.”
Kansuke grimaced as Tomohito shrugged glibly.
Does this Kotogami realize what he’s saying? Kansuke thought.
In other words, Tomohito trusted Kansuke’s strength. This warmed the samurai’s heart a little, he had to admit, as Akari’s trust in him had also done. But Kansuke pasted on a scowl to hide his blushing.
“There was never any guarantee I’d take to the young girly. I could have snapped her neck just as easily, you know.”
“No, I knew you would like her. There is no more conscientious reader alive than Mistress Akari. But I broke that part of her, and I intend to put it right.”
Tomohito’s smile was warm, inviting trust. But Kansuke still frowned.
Was Tomohito not aware of the pain and anguish that was so clearly visible behind that smile?
No, surely he was not. Kansuke sighed, running his hands through his hair and tugging at it.
“All right, all right. But you get this one favor, got that?”
“Why the attitude? As far as I see it, I’ve done you a favor and got you out of your musty old book.”
“That snotty, oblivious attitude of yours is why the young girly is always losing her temper with you.”
“Is it?!”
Kansuke took his hand off his sword, snorting a little at Tomohito’s bewildered expression.
“So, how long have you got?”
“It shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“Make sure not to leave any regrets.”
“You don’t need to remind me.”
Kansuke patted Tomohito on the shoulder and headed downstairs to his own room.
This was their story—Tomohito’s and Akari’s. Kansuke knew that. It wasn’t for him to understand. And so, he would withdraw.
“I wonder what the young girly would make of it all if she knew…”
She went around telling everyone she hated stories, not realizing the truth.
What would she do, when she found out the truth about the real identity of Tomohito Yagyou? This innocent girl, who had been unable to believe the worst of a cursed old samurai like him?
That night, Kansuke thought deeply about it all, rubbing his jaw distractedly for a long time.