Kaori set down her teacup. For once, she looked Shoko right in the eyes.
“I’ve always meant to ask you…”
“Yes?”
“Is that painting authentic?”
“Huh?”
Kaori was pointing at a poster hung on the living room wall. It was on the cover of a bestselling book that had gone on sale during Shoko’s school days, a painting of a seaside town done by an English artist. The image was very famous.
Huh? The picture was very well known. No one would believe a poster was “authentic.” Whatever original existed, it was either in the author’s possession or in some museum. Shoko had only a printed copy on the wall.
“No, it’s not… It’s a poster.”
“Oh. I see. So it’s not the genuine article.”
This one really irked Shoko. Before she could think better of it, she snapped, “That’s rather rude to say, isn’t it?”
“Oh, it’s just, I know the painter, so I thought maybe you did, too.”
“Huh…?”
Shoko’s throat, her very features, seized up. However, some part of her deep down jumped with excitement.
I’ve been waiting for this.
I’ve been waiting for you to try acting better than me. You’ve foolishly challenged me, and now I can smack you down. You’re bragging. They all saw it. They all saw you try to one-up me.
She started it, so I have the right to answer. I’ve never liked you, and you’re going to know it now.
But Shoko didn’t have the chance to talk back before Kaori said, “It’s this painting, right?”
She had taken out her phone again, an old flip one. Really? In this day and age? Worse yet, the screen was cracked.
The image on the screen was of the picture hanging on Shoko’s wall.
“Oh, and I found this, too.” Kaori switched to a different image: the very flower-print skirt that Shoko had on. Although not too expensive, it was a new item from one of Shoko’s favorite brands. Kaori had the official website open. A model displayed the same skirt, and underneath the picture was the tag showing the price: 37,000 yen.
This is what she was doing with her phone earlier? Looking these things up?
“That’s a pretty expensive skirt. I was just thinking of changing my style. Maybe I should copy you.”
The rest of the group had gone very quiet. Shoko was openly staring at the other woman.
Is she actually insane…?
The doorbell rang.
Shoko jumped a little, surprised.
The tea party guests were already here. Shoko wasn’t expecting anyone else. Who could it be?
Shoko got up and pressed a button on the intercom. “Hello?” She expected the camera to show her who had come by, but again, she was surprised.
There was no one there.
Not a soul was visible on the screen.
“Oh, that’s strange,” she remarked aloud. And then something happened.
All the women in the room sucked in a sharp breath. There was an unfamiliar person present.
A young man wearing a uniform with a tall collar. From the look of him, he was in high school. Somehow, he’d entered the home without a sound.
“Huh?” Shoko’s eyes went wide.
The young man stood before the table and raised his right hand. Then there was a clear, crisp ringing. Wholly befuddled and frozen in place, Shoko could only listen to the chime.
Ding…
There appeared to be a silver bell in his hand.
A faint scent wafted through the room, too. Something different from the rose-based fragrance that Shoko used. It was fresher and greener—like bamboo, almost.
No one quite knew what to do. The tea party guests were trapped between looking at the uninvited guest and looking at Shoko, the host.
However, one person in the group was more rigid than the others.
Kaori Kanbara’s eyes blazed, staring with intense focus at the bell in the young man’s hand. She looked like she couldn’t believe what was happening.
The boy rang the bell, cool and clear, once more. The sound brought Shoko back to her senses, and she rounded on him.
“Excuse me, young man…”
But she didn’t have time to ask him what he was doing in her home before a scream drowned her out.
“Eeeyaaaaaagh!”
It was ear-splitting. Deafening.
Kaori, who had been stock still with her eyes trained on the young man, slammed her head on the table. Her teacup cracked. The whipped cream served with the cake splattered on her forehead and hair.
Shocked and terrified, the other women cried out “Kaori!” But Kaori put her hands over her head and pulled at her hair, like a toddler throwing a tantrum.
It was so startling that one of the housewives beside her rushed to help. She placed a hand on Kaori’s shoulder, then pulled it back with a shriek, as one might after touching a hot stove.
“You shouldn’t touch her,” cautioned the young man with the bell. He was very calm.
And the surprises didn’t end there.
“Hyip!”
A dog barked.
Shoko reeled. Animals like dogs and cats had always set her on edge. She was just about to demand the dog be taken outside when she saw the woman holding it enter from the room behind the young man. The two people looked similar in age, but the woman didn’t seem nearly so calm, staring wide-eyed around the room in apparent fright.
The dog jumped out of her arms. The little brown thing was quite bold, and there was a red collar around its neck.
It rushed forward and jumped onto the table, weaving its way around the scattered silverware and headed straight toward Kaori.
“Hyip! Hyip!” it barked.
“Gyap!” It got even louder.
Shoko was sure it would attack Kaori, who was still slumped over on the table, and she looked away. But instead, the puppy focused on Kaori’s hand. It leaned its little face near her fingers.
“Hyip! Hyip! Hyip!”
It seemed to be trying to send a message. Its bark resembled a call or summons, a desperate calling of someone’s name, not an attack.
Kaori was still in agony. The flip phone slipped out of her fingers and fell onto the floor. Perhaps the screen picked up a fresh crack from the drop. Kaori’s unkempt hair was strewn everywhere. She refused to lift her head. The agonized rocking slowed.
The only sounds in the quiet living room were the puppy’s barks and Kaori’s labored breaths. She was gasping for breath, struggling even. The dog licked her hands and hair concernedly.
“Ritsu Mikishima,” the young man said.
Whom was he talking to? His eyes were fixed on Kaori Kanbara, still collapsed on the table. He called out to her.
“Ritsu. Come back to us, Ritsu.”
He rang the bell again.
The stunned tea party could do no more than watch as Kaori’s cheek twitched at the mention of the name Ritsu. She had one side of her face pressed to the table, and her upturned eye was shot wide. Whipped cream dirtied her hair.
“Hyip!” the dog barked again, then promptly began to whine, sidling up to Kaori’s cheek. “Heww, heww, heww,” it mewled through its nose.
Kaori’s open eyes caught sight of the dog. At last, they found focus again, and they leaked tears.
“H…atch…”