Chapter 7

Book 4 A Summer Running Wild with Fifteen Boys “I wanna go on an adventure!” In a lively, boyish voice, he insisted, “I want to drift away to a deserted island with no adults, where we dig out caves to make our homes, and fish and hunt for food, and gather shellfish and fruits to survive, and explore the interior of the island, and fly through the sky tied to kites, and fight bravely against villains of all sorts—I want to have a thrilling, heart-pumping adventure like that!” That’s exactly what’s written in your story, you know, I thought as I listened to him. But that fact did little to dull his enthusiasm. Summer vacation had just started, and here in the town library, a “recommended summer reading” section had been set up for students of all ages who needed to write book reports for homework. One of those books had started speaking to me. On its cover was an illustration of a group of boys holding things like spyglasses and muskets. Still glossy and bright, it must have been a recent acquisition. The title on the cover read The Story of Fifteen Boys. It’s an adventure story for boys written by the French author Jules Verne in the late nineteenth century, also known as Two Years’ Holiday. The voice seemed to belong to an abridged version, written succinctly so that it would be easy for children to read. Next to it sat a hardcover edition of The Story of Fifteen Boys. This version was quite old and was already missing its cover. Its pages were yellowed, and it was heavy and thick. Whether because it found the chatter of the fresh newcomer to be annoying, or it reckoned that young books couldn’t help but gab, the old tome was silent. The new copy passionately appealed to me. “I may have happened to be born as a book, but the blood of an adventurer runs through me! I’m not meant to sit in a safe, air-conditioned room being read. Let’s break our bindings and strike out on the sea! Hey, you with the glasses, you can hear my voice, can’t you? Get me out of this place! Let’s go on an adventure together!” I answered the book in my mind. Sorry, I’m an indoor person. Then I stood up and left. I thought that would be the end of it, but— “Adventure on a deserted island? Sounds great!” Later, when I told Haruto about meeting an unusual book, he leaned forward in excitement. “It’s perfect timing—we’re just starting summer vacation, and I happen to know of several deserted islands, so I’ll ask around. I’ll contact you with the dates later, but it would be great if you could go borrow that copy of The Story of Fifteen Boys, Musubu.” Huh? Wha—? Deserted islands? Huh? Whaaat?! Haruto told me he had some idea of what to do about lodgings and that I should leave everything up to him, or something like that. In any case, my participation seemed to be taken as a given. I was still panicking when I got a message from Haruto later that day. In it, he told me an acquaintance of his owned a deserted island that he hadn’t used since he bought it, and we were free to use it as we pleased. My plan to spend summer vacation in an air-conditioned room, lost in my books, was no more—we would be shipping off to a deserted island. Three days later— I clung desperately to the rail of a boat being tossed about by violent waves and pelted by rain that fell like stones. “Why did we have to choose a day like this to leeeave?” I whined. “And why did we transfer to this tiny boooat?” When we left the port in the Himekura family’s large yacht, I had felt relatively safe, figuring a little rain and wind would be no problem in such a fancy vessel. The cabin inside was comfortable, with fluffy couches and everything, and I didn’t even feel seasick. And then, once night fell and the rain started coming down harder— “Okay, from here on, it’s just us guys going.” Haruto had insisted we make our own way to the deserted island in a tiny boat—one that didn’t even have a roof—being thrashed by the waves. The only saving grace was that we didn’t have to row ourselves with oars. The Campus Prince himself served as our driver. “I got my small-boat license last month!” he told me. So you’re basically a beginner! Wait, can high schoolers even get boating licenses? “Whoa! The waves! There’s water in the boooat!” “Calm down, Enoki. Toss it back out with the bucket.” One of the underclassmen in the orchestra club, a first-year student like me named Wakasako, whom Haruto had somehow roped into our outrageous outing, handed me a bucket. He remained calm even as the boat was tossed about to the point that we were taking on water, and he briskly set about scooping up water in the bucket before tossing it back into the sea. “Our mast has broken, but she’s still sailing along with no dip in speed, so leave it to me.” Haruto spoke as if he were a character in The Story of Fifteen Boys. “We never had a mast to begin with!” “Enoki, watch out! A wave’s coming from behind! Hold on tight!” “Don’t you start playing make-believe, too, Wakasako— Ah, you weren’t kidding!” When I turned around to look, all I could see was a massive wave bearing down on us like a huge black bear with both arms spread wide. The water came crashing over me, flooding my nose and mouth with salty brine and making my head spin as if I had just been sucker punched. With the inside of the boat inundated, I was sure we’d be done for if another wave like that came over—we’d definitely sink. Fighting my fears, I desperately scooped up water in my bucket and heaved it over the side. A delighted voice rose from my jacket pocket. “That wave was amaaazing! This is what I was talking about, this right here! You can’t experience this in a box at the library. This is the thrill and adventure I’ve always wanted!” Wrapped snugly in waterproof plastic, The Story of Fifteen Boys, or Fifteen for short, was in high spirits. “This is about the point when Moko gets himself entwined in rope and is about to be strangled to death, before Briant finds him and cuts the rope with a knife to save him. Musubu! Do you think you could get a rope out of the luggage and wrap yourself up in it?” I was starting to consider throwing Fifteen overboard. But another wave was bearing down on us, and I was working feverishly to bail out the water with my bucket. “Ahhhhh!” I shouted. “I don’t want to end up in the newspaper—‘Three High School Boys Capsize and Die, Boating on a Stormy Night!’ Aaaahhh!” “You’ll be fine! Go, go, go!” Don’t tell me to “go, go, go,” you! “I really, really thought we were gonna die back there.” The three of us sat on the beach in a daze, having finally reached solid land. “Distance-wise, it’s actually not far to this deserted island,” Haruto mused, “but Musubu was acting way too scared, so I took us for a few spins around the island for his sake.” He grinned devilishly. “I’m pleased to see I got you to enjoy the ‘shipwrecked in a stormy sea’ section of our adventure.” Are you kidding me? Who would ever enjoy that?! Unlike me, Wakasako had kept his composure. He was busy pulling all our luggage off the boat. “Where are we going to set up camp?” he asked Haruto. “We’ve got plastic sheets, so we should be able to put up some tents pretty easily.” “Tents, huh?” Haruto nodded. “I was planning to find a cave somewhere, but that works, too.” “All right, I’m going to get water from the river,” Wakasako said. “Let’s boil it before we use it. Before that, we need to gather tree branches and build a fire…” “You sure know your stuff. Have you been stranded on a deserted island before?” Haruto asked. “Yeah, right!” Wakasako shrugged. “I was in the Boy Scouts in elementary and middle school, and we went camping every year, so I’m used to it, is all.” “Oh really, that’ll come in handy!” Wakasako beamed at Haruto’s praise. If Haruto was the main character Briant, with his heroics and leadership, maybe Wakasako was the calm, cool, and collected Gordon? No, maybe he was the devoted and eminently capable sailor’s apprentice Moko? For the time being, I seemed to have been pressed into the service of a couple of adventure maniacs. “All right, we’ll leave pitching the tents to Wakasako—Musubu, you help him. I’m going to go procure some food.” I nearly leaped as Haruto pulled a rifle from his luggage. “Wait! That’s a violation of the Firearm and Sword Possession Control Law!” “Worry not. I regularly go shooting at foreign gun ranges, so I’m confident in my skills. Didn’t you know, Musubu? In America, you can even buy guns in children’s sizes!” This is Japan! I nearly exclaimed. But then I stopped myself. Were we even in Japan anymore? From inside my pocket, Fifteen hassled me as I puzzled it over. “All riiight! Let’s hunt up plenty of game! Tonight we eat rabbit stew!” “No, stop it! Briant and the other characters from the book may hunt with guns, but we can’t! Even if you shoot a bird or rabbit or something, we can’t clean it! Just thinking about tearing out feathers or fur or whatever… Aaahhh!” I gripped my shoulders with both arms and trembled. “I just can’t do it! If you have to go catch something, catch fish!” “But we came all this way to a deserted island… Besides, I didn’t bring a fishing pole.” Haruto looked at his rifle regretfully. Wakasako offered a helping hand. “We can make the rod and hooks from tree branches or vines. For the line, we should be able to unravel some rope to get thin strands. I’ll make it.” “Wow, really? In that case, I want to try making one myself,” Haruto said. “Would you teach me how?” “Sure thing. I think we should also be able to set traps in the river.” “Great! Show me how to do that, too.” I breathed a sigh of relief once Haruto’s interest turned away from hunting. “Awww, we’re not going hunting? I wanted to eat roast duck! The kind dripping with fat!” Fifteen was making a fuss, but he couldn’t even eat anything anyway. And that is how our life on a deserted island began. While Haruto went to fish using the pole Wakasako had helped him make, Wakasako and I put up the tents, gathered wood, and built a hearth. Perhaps “Wakasako and I” was generous—he did about ten times as much work as I did. He really is like Moko, isn’t he…? “It’s a good thing you’re here with us, Wakasako,” I said. “If it was just me and Haruto, he probably would have gone shooting, and I’d be sitting here plucking out rabbit fur and crying. But you really got on board with the plan to play The Story of Fifteen Boys on a deserted island, huh? Though I’m not much use.” “You weren’t excited about coming, Enoki?” “I’ve always been more of an indoor kind of guy.” “Oh really? But Haruto told me this was your idea.” “My idea…? When I was talking about The Story of Fifteen Boys, Haruto said it sounded fun, and everything snowballed from there.” “Ah, right. You told me you and Haruto are book buddies.” “Mm, sort of.” Wakasako didn’t know I could speak to books. But he was very grateful to me after the “Rashōmon” incident, and we had gotten along ever since. “I’m sure Haruto reached out to me because he was thinking of my standing in the orchestra club. I caused that whole mess right before summer break, so even now a lot of people in the club see me as ‘the psycho who snapped and tore off an upperclassman’s clothes before running away yelling.’ I think that as the leader of the orchestra club, Haruto took the initiative to invite me on a personal holiday as a way of showing everyone that he still believes in me.” Thanks to Haruto’s efforts, nobody trash-talked Wakasako anymore, at least not in the open. He told me he was grateful for everything Haruto had done for him. “Haruto isn’t just the chairwoman’s son. He’s also a natural leader. That must be why everyone always follows Haruto’s lead.” It seemed Wakasako had a great deal of confidence in Haruto. Just as I suspected, Wakasako isn’t Gordon—he’s Moko. By the time Haruto returned to camp, we had finished pitching the tents and building the hearth and had started a huge fire going to boil our water. “Look at all this fish!” Haruto was exuberant as he presented us the fish overflowing in his bucket. Back in the music hall, Haruto had always played the part of an elegant prince who carried himself with the grace befitting his noble lineage. But now, with the sleeves of his half-soaked shirt rolled up to his elbows and bare feet beneath his shorts, carrying a handmade fishing pole and a bucket while guffawing with his mouth open wide, he was the spitting image of a mischievous little grade schooler. “Wow, amazing! There are so many!” “Big catch! It’s a big catch!” Fifteen was also in high spirits. “I wanna go fishing, too! I wanna catch a fish!” Sure, okay, next time. “Wakasako, I want to skewer and roast these. What’s the best way to do it?” Haruto asked. “First we have to take out the guts. If we’ve got disposable chopsticks, those are good, but we could also use twigs as a substitute. Put the sticks in through the mouth and twist them around and around to try to wind the innards up,” Wakasako instructed. “All right, let’s give it a try. How about it, Musubu?” “Uh, I’m a little uneasy when it comes to innards…,” I replied. “I’m an indoor kind of guy, so—” “Aw, don’t say that. We came all the way out to a deserted island. Here.” Haruto found a good-looking twig and handed it to me. Fifteen was making a racket in my pocket. “Let’s do it! Twist up the guts!” Ewww… W-well, I guess it’s still better than having to pull out rabbit fur? Suddenly, I shrieked. “Um, my fish is alive! It’s still alive!” “Yeah, they’re so fresh, they’re still jumping!” Haruto grabbed a fish and thrust his stick in through its mouth. “Eeeeeep!” “Oh, Haruto? It’s easier to twirl everything up if you put two sticks in and move them at the same time. Here.” “Thanks, Wakasako.” Haruto took the second stick from Wakasako and thrust it right in! “Gaaaaaah!” “What’s wrong now, Musubu?” I should be the one asking you—how can you do that without any hesitation? Twisting sticks and pulling out guts like it’s nothiiiiing?! “All right, we’re getting them out pretty well. Hey, you try, too, Musubu.” “Twist and turn! Faster, faster!” “Uuugh.” Whenever I grabbed one of the frantically thrashing fish from the bucket with my bare hand, the slimy texture gave me goose bumps. “Ew, ew, ew!” Halfway in tears, I inserted my two sticks into the fish’s mouth as it tried to escape. As I twisted them around, the fish gradually stopped moving. Then, I wrenched the bloody, mixed-up innards from the fish, along with an awful stench, screaming all the while. “Augh!” “Wow!” “Hyahhh!” “You got a lot out!” “Gyehhh!” “Musubu, do that big one next!” Fifteen sounded as if he was having the time of his life in my pocket. This is the last time I eat fish… Or so I thought, but by the time we got the innards out, skewered the fish on sticks made from tree branches, sprinkled them with salt from the boat, and stuck them upright around the campfire to start roasting them, the appetizing aroma drifting up around us, my stomach was growling. Ah…somehow it smells good. Wow, the skin is all crispy and looks delicious. And the fat is dripping down… Mmm. “All right, that should be about good. They’re hot, so be careful, Enoki.” Wakasako handed me one of the piping-hot fish. Haruto had already sunk his teeth into the biggest, most tender one, starting from the head. “This is the greatest!” he raved. “It’s even better than what you get at one of those Michelin star restaurants.” I couldn’t resist the mouthwatering aroma that wafted up from the skewer in my hands, and I bit into the middle of the fish. “Whoa!” “What is it, Musubu?” “Enoki, was there a stone or something in yours?” “Is it a poisonous fish?!” Trembling, I groaned, “…Damn, it’s so good.” “Told you.” “Don’t scare us like that!” “Me too, I want to eat some, too!” The atmosphere around the campfire had turned as warm as the flaky fish. The rice porridge with mushrooms, herbs, and canned beans that Wakasako had prepared for us was equally delicious, and we all ate ravenously. Once the sun had set and night had fallen, the stars sparkled brightly across the whole sky. “Wow…when people write about night skies that look like they’re strewn with diamonds, this must be what they mean.” Lying by our bonfire on the beach, we looked up at the sky with wide eyes. You can’t see these kinds of stars in the city. Wakasako pointed his finger upward and identified a few constellations. “That one’s Lyra, the one over there’s Aquila, and that far one is Cygnus.” “Lyra, Aquila, and Cygnus, wow!” Fifteen listened in rapture. Haruto seemed to be enjoying himself as well. “I’ve got a proposal,” he announced. “If we’re going to live here together, we need a leader, right? How about we decide on a president?” he suggested. I suppose he wanted to do it because there was a scene in The Story of Fifteen Boys where they choose a president, but in that book, there are fifteen of them, whereas we counted only three among our ranks. Really, there was no need to choose a president, as Haruto had already naturally assumed a leadership role as the oldest. What’s the point of even bothering with an election? Hang on, I think he just wants to have someone call him “President.” I had my jokes all lined up, but Wakasako happily went along with Haruto’s suggestion. “Sure. Should we put it to a vote?” Fifteen revved up again from inside my pocket. “A president!” Well, okay then. We decided to hold the vote by putting our marks on a rock—a vote for Haruto would be one line, a vote for Wakasako was two lines, and a vote for me was three. “Me too! Me too!” Fifteen was adamant, but I calmed him down. “You’ll sit this one out,” I told him and put my stone in the bucket. Once everyone had put his stone in (there were only three of us, mind you), we counted. The result was one stone with one line, one stone with two lines, and one stone with three lines…