It’s the feeling of shaking that finally wakes me up and sends my eyes flying open. I’m sure it’s not just the usual vibration of the car. I glance at the seat next to me. Daijin is awake, too, looking around.
“Did the car just shake?” I ask Serizawa, turning toward the driver’s seat.
“Look who finally woke up,” he answers lazily. “Your aunt’s sleeping now.”
I crane my neck around to look in the passenger seat. Tamaki is leaning way back in the cushion, breathing steadily.
“Guess both of you needed some rest,” he says, half laughing. The phone next to the steering wheel dings.
“…Hey, you’re right. There was an intensity three earthquake. It’s hard to feel it when you’re driving.”
My phone buzzes, too, and I check the message. It says an intensity three earthquake occurred one minute ago.
“Stop the car!”
“What?!” Serizawa replies as he slows down and stops the car.
I jump out on the shoulder of the road and look around. Lush, tall weeds extend on both sides. There’s a sign that reads DIFFICULT TO RETURN ZONE, DO NOT ENTER and a steel fence. A narrow road buried under grass leads away on the other side. Beyond that, I can see a small hill.
“Hey, Suzume, what are you doing?” Serizawa shouts.
I ignore him, slip through a gap in the fence, and run up the hill.
When I get to the top of the hill and look back, everything is green. Houses and electric poles are hidden between the trees like they’re holding their breath. Breaking out in a light sweat, I scrutinize the scene.
“I don’t see it…,” I murmur. A second later, the ground rumbles beneath my feet. I look down, and the earth is shaking very slightly. Pebbles buried in the weeds are clattering together softly. As I stare at them in surprise, the shaking stops. I raise my head and scan the landscape again.
“Still don’t see it,” I murmur again.
The worm is nowhere to be seen. The rumbling has stopped.
Souta is holding it down, I think. Now that he’s the Keystone, he’s keeping the worm sealed underground. I remember the Gate I saw in Tokyo—the black hill with the chair stuck into it. My chest fills with emotion. It was such a lonely sight.
Suddenly, the grass rustles.
“…Daijin.”
The cat must have followed me. It’s sitting at a slight distance, its bony back to me as it stares down at the town.
“What do you want?” I ask harshly. The kitten doesn’t turn around. “Why aren’t you talking? Hey!”
There’s no answer. I squeeze the ribbon at my chest, gripping the Closer’s key underneath my shirt along with it.
“I was wondering,” I mumble, not expecting an answer. “Can anyone be a Keystone, even if they’re not a Closer…?”
“Heeey,” someone calls out in a laid-back voice, and I raise my head to see who it is. Serizawa is climbing the hill, his hands in his pockets. “What’s up? Are you okay?”
He peers at my face as he walks. He doesn’t sound very worried.
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m fine. We’d better hurry…”
As I start to walk down the hill, he passes me coming up. I stop and watch him. He stands at the top, stretches his interlocked hands over his head, and takes a deep breath.
“Man, I’m stiff. Wonder if we’re halfway there yet.”
He takes out a pack of cigarettes, puts one in his mouth, and lights it. He looks down at the town, his face sweaty, and inhales with obvious enjoyment.
I give up on getting anywhere in a hurry and look out at the town, too. I’d forgotten he was driving the whole time I was asleep. I was too preoccupied to even think about it. I’m still anxious to get moving, but—
“This wind feels great. Think it’s a little cooler here than in Tokyo,” Serizawa says.
Green rice paddies and fields surround us. The wind bends the grass, filling the air with a sound like waves on the shore. The noontime sun glints brightly off the rooftops. A truck drives slowly through the landscape, like it’s drawing a line between the two sides. I can make out a thin blue horizon in the distance. Somewhere, a cuckoo cries.
“I never knew this was such a beautiful place,” Serizawa says, squinting in the light.
“Really?” I say despite myself, trying to figure out what he’s seeing. “You think this is beautiful?”
In my mind, the memory of white journal paper covered with black crayon is overlayed on the scene before me. That’s why his words come as a genuine surprise. Beautiful?
“What’s with you?” Serizawa says, turning me. But I don’t have time to explain.
“I’m sorry,” I say, starting down the hill again. “We have to hurry,” I mutter. Daijin follows silently. I can hear Serizawa walking behind me, and I imagine him throwing his hands up.
“Hey, you, cat!” he calls out to Daijin. “Your family’s got some serious issues.”
…I can hear you, you know.
I glare back at him and see a thunderhead flash in the distance. A moment later, the sky rumbles. When I look up, black clouds are rushing across the heavens like something sinister is chasing them.
“What are you searching for? Is it something hard to find?”
All the songs Serizawa plays on his phone are old. I don’t recognize many of them, but this one I’ve heard somewhere before. Oblivious to his passengers’ moody silence, he’s humming along as usual and occasionally chiming in.
“Didn’t find it in your bag, didn’t find it in your desk…”
“It’s raining,” Tamaki suddenly says from the passenger seat.
“Seriously?!” Serizawa says, for once sounding upset. I look up. The sky over the convertible is completely covered in gray clouds, and black dots are filling up the asphalt. A big drop falls on my forehead.
“This sucks…,” he says, strangely melancholy.
“What? You must have a roof—why don’t you hurry up and close it?” Tamaki says.
“Ah… Right… Guess I’ll do that,” Serizawa says, pressing a button next to the gearshift. A motor whirs behind me. I glance back. The trunk pops open, and a folded roof slowly emerges. I watch with rapt attention as it transforms into top and bottom sections, and the bottom part fits neatly over my head.
“Wow…,” I say like a little kid. Convertibles are amazing. The top part slides forward and covers the front seat. But then, with a bang like something has caught, the roof stops moving. The back seat where I am is completely enclosed, but there’s a gap around thirty centimeters wide over the front seat.
“What’s going on?” Tamaki asks suspiciously, just as the sky opens up. The rain is pouring down onto Serizawa and Tamaki. His jacket and her knit top are both darkening. I think I hear Serizawa laughing.
“Guess it’s not fixed after all. Ha-ha.”
“That’s not funny!” Tamaki screams. “What are you going to do about this?!”
“No worries! There’s a rest stop just ahead!” he says, still laughing as he fiddles with the navigation system.
“The next rest stop is in forty kilometers. You will arrive in approximately thirty minutes,” the automated voice says cheerfully.
“That’s not exactly just ahead!” Tamaki shouts. As if in response, lightning flashes. The rain is pounding down even harder.
I sigh, slumping in the back seat. I should have taken the Shinkansen by myself. But it’s too late now. We’re not that far from our destination.
“Do you want to take a trip into your dreams, into your dreams?” a voice sings confidently over the car stereo like a fortune teller predicting the future.