Even though Itsumi had told me to forget about it, I needed to know who the culprit was. There was no mistaking it. It was clear that that bunny had intended to hurt…or maybe even murder Itsumi.
I went to the Event Planning Committee office to put away my statue after the festival ended. Then I checked the schedule on the wall to see who had been assigned to wear the bunny suits. As I had expected, Shiyo Takaoka’s name was on the list.
I went to the salon. Everyone was totaling up the cake sales at the marble table. I wasn’t surprised to see Shiyo counting the coins on the table with her pastel green nails. Itsumi wore a scarf as if trying to hide her neck.
“Oh, Itsumi. Why are you wearing that scarf?” I asked loudly enough for Shiyo to hear. But she continued counting and pretended not to notice. She had some nerve sitting in front of Itsumi, cool as a cucumber.
“Yeah, my neck is a little cold,” Itsumi said, winking at me.
She was bent on protecting Shiyo. I felt a sudden burst of jealousy. Shiyo didn’t deserve to be close to Itsumi, and yet Itsumi would have done anything for Shiyo just because she wrote some stupid novel. While Itsumi always forgave Shiyo’s selfishness and hostile ways, there I was, finally standing by Itsumi’s side, holding back my feelings.
“…I’ll never forgive you. I’ll kill you.” Shiyo’s voice echoed in my head. I wanted to say that to her, myself.
As I faced Itsumi, I whispered in Bulgarian, “Itsumi, I’ll protect you. I won’t forgive anyone who tries to hurt you.”
The last syllable rang sharp with emotion. Itsumi looked up at me and tilted her head in confusion.
“What was that, Diana? What did you say?”
“It’s nothing. Just a spell for good luck. I hope you’ll always be happy.”
“Aww, thank you.” She smiled cheerfully. That ephemeral grin might have been a premonition of the future. Itsumi died just a few weeks later.
✦ ✦ ✦
It’s been hard for me to breathe since Itsumi passed away. I didn’t come all the way to Japan to watch Itsumi die. Why did this have to happen to someone as happy and lovely as she was?
I didn’t see Itsumi’s death; I only saw her lying in the flowerbed with the lilies-of-the-valleys in her hand. I know I shouldn’t say things I don’t know are true, but it is clear that Itsumi was murdered…and it is also clear who the murderer is.
“…I’ll never forgive you. I’ll kill you.”
The scream I heard at the Easter festival won’t leave my ears.
Shiyo hated Itsumi with a passion. The work of a writer, who weaves words out of nothing, breathing life into fictional people and forcing them to fall in love, to despair, and to hate, must be too grueling for an ordinary person like me to even imagine. It isn’t unnatural that Shiyo couldn’t stop until she killed someone she thought had negated her work.
Itsumi told me who the culprit is. Kimikageso is a traditional way to say “lily-of-the-valley” in Japanese. She had said so herself.
I would have rather jumped off the terrace with her than lose her like this. If we had tied our hair together, held hands, and took that leap of faith, I know God would have gracefully turned us to stone. We would have spent an eternity huddled next to each other, like the sisters at the Kaleto. Ahh, my dear, sweet Itsumi…
I will never forgive Shiyo Takaoka.
And I also cannot forgive myself. I cannot forgive my foolishness and my inability to protect her. I will regret this for as long as I live. I regret that I failed to protect the only person I’ve ever loved. I regret that I could only watch her die as I stood by her side.
✦ ✦ ✦
(End)
✦ ✦ ✦
Thank you, Diana.
You’re the only international student in the Literature Club. Since you’re only going to be here for a year, I expected that your story would be the most objective of all.
And it was just what I had hoped. The tension that only exists at an all-girls school…I’ve never consciously felt something like that before. You used “hirihiri” to describe how you felt and then asked if it was the appropriate word, but I don’t think you could have chosen a more fitting one than that. It’s not “pain” you’re describing; as you said, it’s more like your heart is being sanded down to nothing. You’ve really become proficient in Japanese in the three months you’ve been here.
And within that short period of time, Itsumi has passed away. I learned a lot by listening to your side of the story. But all of the readings, including yours, claim something different. What in the world is going on?
✦ ✦ ✦
Your reading was truly music to my ears. That Bulgarian accent makes your Japanese sounds very sexy. Your voice also has a lovely depth to it. And the hometown you described with that lovely voice—the towering, gallant mountains, the historical buildings and landmarks, the Rose Valley, the vibrant sea—vividly appeared right before my eyes.
Your reading was very charming. Thank you very much. Let’s all give her a round of applause.
Is everyone eating enough? Let’s add a few things to the stew. Please feel free to come take another drink if you’d like.
My goodness, what’s all the fuss about?
—What, a watch? Someone brought another watch this year. Who’s the lucky girl who has it?…Oh, Akane Kominami. I’m terribly jealous of you. But it doesn’t mean that it’s as high-quality as last year’s, you know. It was probably cheap. Though we won’t know until the meeting ends and we turn on the lights. Perhaps we will envy you. Or perhaps we’ll see it’s a toy and everyone will laugh at you. This is one of the things that make our mystery stew so exciting. Let’s let our imaginations run wild until the very end.
Could the next reader prepare while I add some things to the stew? Let’s see, was it Sonoko who was next? Ah, yes. Sonoko, please head to the reading corner.