Cheer…Cheer up.
That probably came about the same way. Perhaps they had been the words of encouragement my grandmother spoke day after day to my grandfather, who was sunken in continual despair, his heartbreak never lessening. And then Ray had learned it and…
Cheer…Cheer up.
“There were enough desks in the classroom, even though the ‘disasters’ for this year actually started in April…And this explains why, no?” Mei pointed out, lowering the pickax momentarily to her feet. “They really were one desk short at the start of the semester. But not in the classroom—it was in the teachers’ office.”
“Yeah…”
“Wh-what are you two saying?”
Just then, I heard Ms. Mikami’s—Reiko’s—perplexed voice.
“You don’t believe that! Koichi, I’m not…”
Propped up on both of her elbows, craning her chin up, Reiko was looking up at me. Her face, black and smudged with ash and mud—that face that held a shadow of my mother in it—was shockingly twisted. Probably from the combination of physical pain and psychological shock.
“Sakakibara,” Mei said, once more lifting the pickax in both hands and taking a step closer to me. “Move.”
“Misaki…”
I took the full brunt of the iron conviction on her face, then found myself caught and held by the spark in Reiko’s confused, terrified eyes as she lay on the ground behind me. And then…
“No,” I said, taking the pickax from Mei’s hands.
It was medium-sized, its haft sixty or seventy centimeters long, but when I held it, it pulled against my arm. Both ends on the iron “head” were pointed and sharper than I would have thought. With this weight and sharpness, it wouldn’t be hard at all to inflict deadly wounds on a person.
“No. You can’t do this.”
“But Sakakibara…If we don’t…”
“I know.” I nodded, feeling the full weight of my decision. “I know. I’ll do it.”
I heard Reiko’s terse scream. I slowly turned back around to face her and adjusted my hold on the pickax I’d taken from Mei.
“K-Koichi—Wait, what are you…”
The look on her face screamed No! and she shook her head in small, tight tremors.
“Returning ‘the casualty’ to Death…”
I was fighting back pain and the wild rush of my heartbeat as I spoke.
“That’s the only way to stop the ‘disasters’ once they’ve begun. Your old classmate Matsunaga from fifteen years ago told us that.”
“What are you talking about? You can’t…Stop acting so crazy. Stop this instant!”
“I’m sorry, Reiko.”
Planting my feet, I gathered all the strength I had in my body and lifted the pickax over my head. It’s the only way. It’s the only way. Repeating that to myself over and over.
And then…
Aiming the pickax for the spot on her back where Reiko’s heart would be as she lay facedown on the ground, in the instant before I started to swing the pickax down—
Is this right?
Is what I’m doing right?
Is this truly right? We’re not wrong about this, are we?
There was only one piece of evidence that said Reiko was this year’s “extra person.” A judgment made with Mei’s special ability—her “doll’s eye” that could see the “color of death”—that was all the overt evidence we had. The rest was nothing more than a guess based on a series of circumstantial events. It wasn’t as if I had a strong conviction about it and could deny the memories I had of Reiko. And yet…
Is this right?
To believe her and return Reiko to Death?
Is this really right? We’re not wrong, are we?
What if Mei had misunderstood everything? What if being able to see the “color of death” was really just something she’d talked herself into believing, nothing more than a delusion?
That would mean I was killing Reiko, by my own hand, even though she wasn’t “the casualty.” The person on whom I couldn’t help overlaying the image of my mother, Ritsuko, whom I knew only from photographs. The person I couldn’t help seeking out. The person who held probably one of the most important roles in my life. The person whom I wasn’t really “bad at dealing with,” but instead had probably loved ever since I was a child.
I mean, in broad strokes, the “reality” here in Yomiyama was that a phenomenon was occurring that doctored/corrupted and modified people’s memories and records, those memories growing indistinct and vanishing over time…And it happened all the time. In the middle of all that, was I supposed to uncritically accept something that Mei Misaki alone could see, something she swore was the “truth”? Was it right to do what I was about to do, because she said so?
My doubts, anxiety, and confusion swirled together. I became unable to move, as if literally petrified.
Just then, a monstrous roar came from the main building, where the fire continued to burn. The frame of the building had burned through and the roof had finally collapsed. A huge billow of sparks flew into the air accompanied by a swirl of thick smoke. Some of them even fluttered down around me, where I stood frozen. If the fire went on like this, we would be in danger here, too, at some point.
So…
I couldn’t vacillate over this forever.
Is this right?
Is this really right?
Still questioning myself, I turned back to look at Mei.
She hadn’t budged in the slightest from the place she’d stood this whole time, and she was looking straight at me. Her right eye, narrowed coolly, and the “doll’s eye,” the “blue eye, empty to all”—neither of them held the slightest doubt or hesitation. Only…Yes, they were filled only with a terrible sadness.
Her lips moved very slightly.
I couldn’t hear what she said, but I could read the words from the movement of her lips. “Trust me,” they said.
…I…
I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep breath.
I…
I opened my eyes, then turned back to Reiko. Violently conflicted, whipped by hesitation, fear, and despair, still I saw in her face the shadow of the mother I knew only from photographs. But…
I’m…going to believe Mei.
I’m going to believe her.
Gritting my teeth, I made my decision.
I’ll believe Mei.
Maybe I don’t mean “I’m going to believe her” as much as “I want to believe her.” But that’s good enough. I’m okay with that.
Cutting through my indecision, I swung the pickax overhead. Even Reiko’s scream of “Stop!” (Reiko…) didn’t penetrate my brain (Good-bye…Reiko…).
Filling the movement with all the strength I possessed, I swung the point of the pickax down into her back (Good-bye…Mother…), slicing through the flesh to reach her heart…
As if that single impact had rebounded into my own body, a pain more intense than any I had experienced before cut through my flimsy chest. The image that flashed instantly to mind was the X-ray of my shriveled and distorted lung after the third collapse.
I pulled my hands away from the pickax lodged in Reiko’s back and pressed them against my chest, crumpling to the ground where I stood. Panting at the ferocious shortness of breath as my consciousness grew ever fainter, I felt the heat of tears spilling from my eyes in ceaseless streams. Obviously the pain and shortness of breath were not their only cause.