As the day dragged on, Makoto got so hungry his stomach actually began to cramp.
The fifth-period English teacher had strong features. Today, because his hunger brought him to a near-delirious state, the teacher almost looked Indian to Makoto, and his lecture on grammar began to sound as if it was another language.
“Would you like some curry? Will it be chicken curry? Beef curry? Pork curry? Seafood curry? Vegetarian curry? Curry is spicy and quite delicious. We Indians never lie.”
Makoto was hearing things. He also felt as if he was being assaulted by hallucinations. He saw a turban-wearing Indian with a very suspicious-looking moustache. The Indian was riding an elephant and was headed Makoto’s way. He was saying something.
“Hm? What’s that?” Makoto asked.
“What are you doing, Hayama?” the Indian asked back. “Wake up!”
“Wake up? Ha ha ha ha!” Makoto laughed. “You sound like my older brother, Mr. Indian.”
“Wake up…! Hayamaaaaaa!!”
But it wasn’t an Indian. It was his teacher, whose angry voice was ripping through the relative silence of the afternoon class.
“What happened, Makoto-kun?” Toiro asked Makoto, who was sprawled on his desk after fifth period ended. He had been magnificently scolded. Again. Not only had he interrupted class, but he was also reprimanded for being a slacker.
“Uh, nothing…” he told her. “It’s just…”
He couldn’t possibly tell her his hunger had made him hallucinate about an Indian man. But then, he didn’t have to tell her. It turned out she was a very perceptive girl.
“Maybe it was because you were hungry?”
“Er…” he stammered. “W-well… That may be true, or maybe not, or maybe yes…”
“Ha ha! You’re so funny, Makoto-kun.” She smiled a carefree smile at him. “Well,” she continued, “I heard you got paged during lunch break, so I was thinking maybe you didn’t get to eat lunch.”
Makoto could only laugh ruefully as she spoke. Thinking about hunger made his stomach growl even more.
“Well then, if you don’t mind…” she volunteered, “I do have some leftover lunch…”
“Are you serious?!” he asked, incredulous. It didn’t matter anymore if it was freshly cooked or leftovers or whether or not it was curry, anything would do as long as it could subdue his growling stomach.
“Oh, and I haven’t touched my onigiri.”[2]
“Oh no, no, no!” he said emphatically. “I don’t mind at all!”
“Okay, good. Then, here.”
“Yes! You’re a lifesaver!” he gleefully exclaimed.
Gratefully receiving the bento[3] box from Toiro, Makoto quickly untied the yellow handkerchief it was wrapped in. Opening the lid, which had a cute illustration on it, he saw that there was still over half left. There was even some food still left untouched.
“Aaggghh!”
He was no longer able to speak words; he could only utter animal-like sounds. Makoto pounced on the food and finished it in an instant.
“Whew…” he sighed happily. “That was very satisfying! Thank you!”
Makoto bowed his head in deep gratitude, bumping it on the desk while he was at it.
“Ha ha ha!” Toiro couldn’t help but laugh; she found it terribly funny. She was pretty cute after all. He now saw why all the boys in class were going nuts over her. He thought this over while placing the chopsticks back into their case.
Hm? Chopsticks? he thought. Why am I holding chopsticks? Whose chopsticks? What is this…?! Oh no!
“S-sorry!” he said out loud. “I used your chopsticks without asking!”
While it was true Makoto was dying of hunger, he still had to apologize for his lack of manners. This was one of those rare moments when he regretted his upbringing.
“Oh, that’s okay,” she reassured him. “I don’t mind. Besides…”
“Besides…?”
“If it’s you,” she continued, “then it’s okay.”
Her cheeks reddened bashfully. Holding her bundled-up bento box, she hurried back to her seat. Her steps pitter-pattered as she ran. Her skirt, which was a little bit longer than the other girls’, fluttered with her movements.
He knew he shouldn’t look, but he just had to. He was, after all, a guy. But because he was looking up her skirt, Makoto noticed a large purple bruise on her thigh.
Maybe that’s why she wears such a long skirt, he thought. To hide that.
For some reason, his memory struck a dissonant chord.
Throb, throb…throb…
—Try to remember.
The scar is still there, isn’t it?
✦ ✦ ✦
This morning, he had met a shinigami. That would make it the second time he had experienced such an encounter. The first time was when his father died.
At that time, the shinigami appeared in black, and he felt extremely fearful. Since then, he had been able to see things he did not want to see.
Today, he had met that little girl, another shinigami. The girl, Momo, was a strange one.
“I’m an outcast,” she often said.
Momo wore a white outfit and red shoes. Her face was childlike, beautiful and strangely compelling. She did not seem like a shinigami at all. She was definitely different from the shinigami he had seen long ago, the shinigami who took his father.
“Have you come for me?” Makoto asked, half-jokingly.
“No,” Momo answered.
“You’re not on the list yet,” added Daniel.
“Oh, really?” He smiled wryly.
“Why? Are you so eager to die?” Momo asked.
“No… I have no intention of dying now…” Makoto said. “No intention at all.”
There were still some things he wanted to do. No, there were still some things he must do.
“Well, that’s a normal response.” Momo brushed away the strands of white hair that had fallen on her face.
“A lot of people are killing themselves these days,” Daniel related. “It’s a lot of work for us.”
Daniel folded his arms—or rather, forepaws— while talking. He skillfully kept his balance by using his tail. Makoto found the sight quite funny and snorted a tiny laugh.
“Pfft…” he giggled.
“You’re an odd one yourself,” Momo said to Makoto, who was still stifling a laugh.
“Am I?” he asked.
“A lot, don’t you think?” she told him. “Look around you.”
“Around me?”
Makoto did as he was told and looked around. He saw that passersby were giving him cold stares. The humid air instantly felt chilly. Shivering, he began to wish there was a heater nearby. When someone met his gaze, they would turn away and quicken their pace.
Oh, right, he thought. They can’t see what I can…
“Well, uh,” he said aloud, “Guess I’d better be going… huh?”
Momo and Daniel were already gone. Somehow, it made him feel even emptier inside. The people in the street probably thought the heat had made him crazy, talking to himself like that. In any case, he really was “odd,” just as Momo had said.
Eventually, he would meet them again, the little girl who administered death and the black cat who summoned ill tidings.