The man blinked at her wordlessly, his long lashes shining faintly. With every blink, strange patterns spread in the air, then faded away.
“Are you the friend he was talking about?”
His long, wide-collared white jacket slowly spread out from the top down, revealing his tight pants, boots, and gloves. Dressed from head to toe in all white, he glowed in the dark like a ghost.
“Good heavens, you look just like her,” Sanetoshi commented without smiling. “I was scared, you know. I had this feeling that as long as you and that diary still existed, Momoka-chan was going to get my goat all over again.”
“Who are you?” Ringo demanded, more firmly.
“Nice to meet you. I am a ghost,” he replied, slowly and purposely. Then he moved his right foot back, pressed his right hand to his chest, and bowed, gracefully extending his left hand outward at his side.
“A ghost?” Ringo repeated.
But right as the words left her lips, the teddy bear exploded, sending her flying into the wall of the plaza. Her bag tore, and the diary half fell to the carpet.
There amid the smoke, Kanba appeared without the slightest sound. He walked up beside her and picked up the diary with both hands. Then he stared down at her limp, lifeless body.
“Stunning,” Sanetoshi grinned, applauding. “Now then, go ahead and burn both halves. I’d do it myself, but I can’t touch them.”
Silently, without batting an eye, Kanba tossed Momoka’s diary into the uncontrolled flames. Sanetoshi watched, entranced, as the cover warped and the pages turned to ash. His pale face and clothes were tinged red by the light of the fire.
“Now no one will ever know the fate transfer spell.”
Using the last of her strength, Ringo turned her head. When she saw the diary was on fire, she pushed herself up and reached out for it.
“You still haven’t given up, hmm?”
She glanced in Sanetoshi’s direction, but otherwise ignored him, grabbing at the two burning diary halves sitting in a stack on the carpet.
“Let me guess: you think the power of love will save the day?” Sanetoshi watched curiously as Ringo crawled along the floor at his feet. “Well, I’d think again if I were you. It’s nearly burned to a crisp now.”
“No! I’ll never give up on Himari-chan!”
As she shouted, smoke filled her lungs, and she fell into a coughing fit. But she refused to give up on the people she cared about. She was going to save Himari’s life, and heal Shoma’s wounds, and maybe even get Kanba back.
Sanetoshi bent over, hands on his knees, leaning in close to her face. “For the record, it’s for your own good. If you recite that incantation, you’ll pay the price, and the flames of the curse will burn you…just like this.”
He looked at the diary, which was now burned up beyond recognition. Beside it, Ringo lay motionless, her hand and sleeve both singed black.
“If you burn away, you’ll cease to exist. Surely you don’t want that, do you?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t understand what he was talking about, and even if she did, she couldn’t breathe well enough to speak.
Stretching slightly, he called out to Kanba: “Now then, let us be off. The train of fate awaits us.”
In response, Kanba walked right up to him. Together, they turned away from Ringo and headed into the forest of fish tanks. Struggling to stay conscious, she watched them disappear. What did he mean by “the train of fate”?
When she finally did pass out, her last thoughts, like the majority of her other thoughts, were of Shoma. There was still so much she hadn’t told him… She hadn’t even finished packing clothes for him.
Himari-chan…Momoka…I’m sorry…
But even her shakiest thoughts were absorbed by the thick glass.
Time passed as I waited and waited for Oginome-san to show up. I tried calling her a handful of times, but she never answered…and before I knew it, night fell. As I watched Himari’s unchanging EKG, the other hospital visitors dwindled, and Penguin No. 2 dozed off at my feet. Then it was time for lights out. A nurse came and brought me a cot; I laid myself down on it, but kept my eyes open, watching the EKG and its mostly steady rhythm while listening to Himari’s unnaturally faint breathing.
The room was kept at a carefully controlled temperature, just barely warm. Physically I was exhausted, but my brain was wide awake, and I got the sense I wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon. I couldn’t stop worrying about Oginome-san, and on top of that, Himari was going to die at some point tonight or tomorrow. It was unthinkable, and yet it was probably fact. When it happened, would I cry? How would I keep living my life? Was it even possible for me to live on my own?
In the past, when Himari was in critical condition, I often stopped to think long and hard about what her death would mean for us. I never really had to grapple with the loss of a close family member. Of course, I had other relatives besides just Uncle Ikebe, but none of them wanted anything to do with the children of Takakura Kenzan and Chiemi. We never had a funeral or anything for our parents, either—technically they were just missing. I did go to Kanba’s dad’s funeral a long time ago, but I was really young at the time, and I was too busy worried about whether Himari was tired or whether Kanba was sad. All in all, it was just a hectic day spent surrounded by grown-ups wearing all black.
If Himari died, Uncle Ikebe would probably be the one to take charge and organize her funeral. She would lay there like a little porcelain doll, wearing that white dress, fated never to stir again, while someone else applied makeup to her face. The rest of the coffin would be packed full of flowers. Then, like with Kanba’s dad’s funeral, we would sit in the crematorium and eat bland prepackaged lunches while waiting for her body to be reduced to bones.