Seemingly impressed, Hikaru sighed and said, “Huh. No wonder they call you Emil.”
Yoshiki wasn’t entirely sure who had given him the nickname “Emil” from the short story “Das Nachtpfauenauge” in their language arts textbook.
Yoshiki had never been an exemplary boy, nor was he particularly good at collecting specimens. It was just that at one point, he was influenced by something he saw online and started saying “I see, I see” as his standard way to indicate he was engaged in a conversation, and that somehow turned him into Emil. He couldn’t even remember if Emil actually used that phrase.
But Hikaru remembered those sorts of things.
There was also the time Yoshiki got another weird nickname after someone went around telling people that the moles on his face made the same shape as the Big Dipper. Yoshiki was sure that Hikaru remembered that, too. He didn’t know it, but he remembered it.
He looks just like Hikaru, but whatever he is, he ain’t Hikaru.
Yoshiki unconsciously gripped the handles of his bicycle.
This whole thing’s crazy. He’s crazy, and I’m just as crazy for accepting him.
His palms were damp with sweat, and he wanted to scream, “Just what the heck is that thing?!”
I’m so, so scared. Please, just stop already. You’re seriously creeping me out.
And as he wrestled with those fears, there was another thought in his mind.
But I don’t wanna be alone.
Even as he repeatedly apologized to someone in his own head, the thought remained.
“Oh! That reminds me!” Hikaru piped up. “So, I was thinkin’ next time, I could keep readin’ Master + Master at your place…”
Hikaru started to casually chat with Yoshiki, seemingly unaware of the struggle and turmoil happening within the boy.
“Sure. Fine with me,” Yoshiki replied. “Oh, so how far didja read?”
“Ron just left the island.”
“That’s barely anythin’ at all. You’re basically at the openin’ stage.”
If they were talking about the fairy tale of Momotaro, the old man wouldn’t have even gone to the mountains to gather wood—he’d still be lying in bed at home.
“All right. S’fine if you come over and read ’em next time you come by. But I’m missin’ volume three.”
“No worries. I’ll figure somethin’ out for that. But I was kinda wonderin’ why you got eleven copies of the first volume.”
Just as Yoshiki was about to explain that, a shrill voice launched at them from down the road. An ear-piercing scream that sounded like rough nails scraping against frosted glass.
It was Old Lady Matsuura, standing frozen with terror at the end of the road. Even though it was the middle of summer, she was wearing a long-sleeved sweatshirt. Now that it was evening, the temperature had cooled, but Yoshiki could still see from a distance that her forehead was beaded with sweat.
“Ah…ahhh… Whyyy…?” she moaned.
Her eyes, shriveled like dried grapes, trembled as she looked at them.
Actually, she was looking at Hikaru.
“Nounuki, don’t tell me yer down here nooow!”
As she wailed, Old Lady Matsuura’s hands, which were more wrinkle-and-bone than skin-and-bone, rattled, causing Hikaru’s eyes to widen.
“Whoa. The heck is that? Scary.”
“Eeek! Stay back! Go away! I said, git!”
Her voice wasn’t particularly loud. But the way she screeched, with a distorted quality that made it seem like she had forgotten how to scream, caused Yoshiki’s face to scrunch up with displeasure.
“Don’t pay her no mind,” he said. “I really hate this kinda stuff.”
Old Lady Matsuura would act like that sometimes and say strange things while wandering outside her house. The villagers felt bad for her because of that, and Yoshiki shared their sentiments, but being confronted by her like this was more than he could handle.
“Let’s go,” he urged Hikaru.
Without bothering to fix her disheveled white hair, Old Lady Matsuura continued to stare at them, trembling with each breath. Yoshiki turned his back to her, and Hikaru quietly followed, saying, “Ah! Wait up!”
Though it would be a bit of a detour, Yoshiki decided to take another route home. The sound of the cicadas faded away. Now the boys could hear only a loud chorus of croaking frogs coming from the orange-tinted rice paddies.
Meanwhile, the face Old Lady Matsuura had made as she called Hikaru “Nounuki” remained seared into Yoshiki’s mind and wouldn’t leave.
“See ya tomorrow,” Hikaru said, standing in front of Yoshiki’s house.
“Hey…,” Yoshiki began. Then, before he could stop himself, he asked, “Hikaru really is dead, huh?”
He avoided looking into Hikaru’s eyes, but he could still feel Hikaru’s gaze on his bangs.
After a long, drawn-out silence, Hikaru finally nodded and said, “Yeah.”
Then he put his hand on his chest as he murmured steadily, firmly, “This body has a pulse and warmth to it, but it’s already dead.”
It’s already dead—those words dragged something out of Yoshiki that he hadn’t been able to confront until now.
“So, did you…?” Yoshiki started.
“Oh, no way! He was breathin’ his last when I came upon him. No doubt about that. I ’member wanderin’ ’round the mountains for some time. Was like that for a good long while—just not feelin’ anythin’. I was pretty much like a machine on autopilot all that time.”
It didn’t sound like Hikaru was making excuses. He wasn’t the one who killed Hikaru. Yoshiki had a vague sense of that.
“Then Hikaru was about to die, and before I knew it, I was like this.”
“And you like me?”
Yoshiki’s abrupt question caused Hikaru to gasp and respond, “Huh…? What?”
Yoshiki wasn’t expecting an answer.
But as Yoshiki reached for his front door, Hikaru clearly said, “I do.”
He actually said it.
“I’m crazy for you.”
The setting sun illuminated one side of Hikaru’s face, while the other half was cast in shadow. As a result, Yoshiki could see just half of Hikaru’s expression, but he could tell that Hikaru was smiling.
Hikaru never said a thing like that before, was Yoshiki’s honest impression. He swallowed those feelings and took a breath.
“If that’s so,” he said, “then never disappear on me ever again.”
Yoshiki didn’t look at Hikaru’s face after that. He opened the glass door at the entrance to his house and closed it behind him. The sound of it shutting was louder than he expected.
And beyond the orange-tinted frosted glass, all he could hear was the sound of croaking frogs.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Stay away! Stay awaaay!” Matsuura shouted at her front door from under a comforter pulled over her head. Her muffled breath caused sweat to trickle down the tip of her nose.
The floorboards at her house’s entrance gently twinkled in the moonlight that filtered through her glass door, making the woodgrain lightly visible. Above it, her skin-and-bone hands trembled.
It was just past midnight. With all the lights out, her home was dark and silent. Matsuura’s breathing was the only sound.
And yet…
“Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! I’ve got a delivery for you. Mrs. Matsuuraaaa?” a young man called out from beyond the pitch-black entrance. It wasn’t the voice of Satou, the deliveryman who usually delivered packages here.
In the quiet night, when everyone in Kubitachi was fast asleep, the man’s voice was all that echoed through the village.
“I ain’t openin’ the door…!”
After Matsuura managed to force those words out from the back of her throat, something hit the edge of her comforter with a clatter. The dish of salt at the entrance of her house had been knocked over.
In the darkness, the talismans posted on her walls glowed white. But the voice did not stop.
“Ohhh? Maybe she’s not here? Hello! Delivery…!”
“There ain’t no way a package’d…c-come this late…”
She tried to get the words out, but her trembling throat wouldn’t let her. Her breath was shallow, and cold sweat ran down her cheeks.
“You’re home, aren’t you? We’re both gonna have a problem if I don’t deliver this package, you know… Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa!”
The voice wouldn’t stop.
“Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa! Mrs. Matsuuraaaa… Mrs. Matsuuraaaa!”
“I—I—I…”
She began to stutter something, but as soon as she managed to say, “I won’t let’cha in,” she heard a cheery voice from behind her.
“I’m already inside.”
When she turned around, there was nothing but a dark hallway.
There was no sound, no sign of anyone—just the dark hallway.