Chapter 124

Sketch 4 What does it mean to be in love? Why are you asking me that out of the blue? Does it mean you like someone? Mmm. That you like someone a whole lot maybe. Men usually love women, and women usually love men. Though I guess there are exceptions to that. Exceptions…So a man could like a man a whole lot, and that would be love? Well, sure. Have you ever done that? Wha—? No, I’m not into stuff like that… I mean have you ever been in love? Oh, I see…I’m not sure. Do you fall in love when you become a grown-up? You can be in love even if you’re not a grown-up. Some kids get right to it. Hmmm…So, have you? Ever been in love? Who was your first love? …… You didn’t have one? No…I suppose I did. What does it feel like to be in love? Is it fun? Does it hurt? It’s…Oh, I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m qualified to answer these questions. Why not? …Because I can’t remember. …… I can’t really remember. That’s why… 1 There are things called “crow days.” Several crows, maybe dozens of crows, which you typically don’t see very many of around here, gather around a house. They perch on the roof or trees in the yard, occasionally cawing, one after another. The number of other wild birds and birdcalls drops dramatically, maybe because they’re afraid. There are a few days like that each month, and I’ve always called them crow days. Why do they all get together on those days? Maybe there’s some reason or something sets it off, but I don’t really know. Crows have an image as a sinister bird, but I most definitely do not hate these crows. They scavenge in trash bags in the city, so I guess they cause problems, but crows are living creatures, so if they know there’s food in there, of course they’re going to go after it. I’ve also heard that they fly after kids in parks and stuff and peck at their heads, but they don’t do anything like that here. They just caw noisily, and I don’t particularly hate them for that. Actually— I took care of an injured crow once, a long time ago. I treated its wounds as best I could, then put it in a cardboard box with a blanket in it and put that in the garage…I meant to look after it until it got better, but unfortunately it died pretty fast. Before there had been any time to tame it or even give it a name. I buried it in a corner of the backyard. I made a tiny grave marker for it from a scrap of wood. I made the marker, a misshapen cross. It’s still there. Actually… After the incident with the crow, I tried several times to keep animals as pets at this mansion. Not dogs or cats, but lizards or frogs I caught in the yard or insects like praying mantises or crickets…The only mammal I ever had was a hamster. I also received a pair of finches that I tried keeping as pets. At one point, with the finches, I remember I couldn’t stand keeping them locked up in the birdcage anymore, so I let them out. None of the other animals had very long lifespans, and they all died. I buried them all in a line next to the grave marker I had first put up for the crow. Making the same tiny marker every time I buried one. Thinking back on it, I wonder if I was doing that to see the thing called “death” in a living creature with my own eyes, to touch it and experience it up close…to try and discover what it meant. I suspect that’s what it was. 2 It’s possible that my own body is now buried in the earth. Somewhere in the yard of this mansion, for example, just like those creatures I buried. Or maybe somewhere in the surrounding forest…? With this thought, I carefully scanned the ground on the property. Looking for any signs that the earth had been dug up and reburied. But I never spotted anything clearly indicative of that… I can’t deny the possibility that I simply overlooked it. But if the burial spot were somewhere outside the property, it would be utterly beyond my power to search for it… (…here) Out of nowhere, there came a voice. A fragment of a word. (at least…here) What was this? What could it be? (…in this house) Surprised, I tried to catch it…But it slipped through the fingers of my mind and vanished… (…forget) Ah…Whose voice was this? And when? (everything…that happened tonight) The answer was just on the cusp of being understandable. The meaning so close to being visible. (…you need to forget) Smothered by a foggy sense of discomfort, my thoughts came to a stop. 3 Wednesday, July 17. Sometime after the schools of the world had gone on summer break. On this day, just past noon, I appeared at Lakeshore Manor. The sky was slightly cloudy and not particularly summery, despite it being the height of the season. The sunlight was blunted, and the wind only lukewarm…Yes—and it was a crow day. I could tell this from the voices of the group outside. Because it was not just a single cry, but the overlapping, resounding cries of several birds. Ah, a crow day, I thought and peeked outside from a window in the second-floor library. An eastern-facing window with no curtains. As I looked over the trees in the yard, as expected, I saw the coal-black forms of the crows perched on the branches. That alone was probably close to ten birds. There were also several on the roof and eaves of the first floor, directly below the window. I couldn’t see them from here, but I was sure there were several more on the second-floor roof, too. A sky burial—the term came to mind unbidden. A custom in some country or other, where in order to bury a dead person, the body is exposed in a field and the flesh is picked at by wild birds until only the skeleton is left. It didn’t seem likely, but could it be that my body, its whereabouts still unknown to me, had been left in a field somewhere and become food for the crows…? Suddenly captive to such unpleasant thoughts, I gazed out the window at the crows for a long while. That was when— I heard a harsh sound of a different character than the cawing of the crows. What was that? Where had it come from? I looked out a different window and saw the source of the sound. Below a large magnolia tree at the outskirts of the front yard. There was a human figure picking up a bicycle that had fallen over… Even at a distance, I could see that the person was wearing a white dress and a straw hat. Exactly like that time last summer we had stood on the shore of Lake Minazuki and talked…It was— Mei Misaki? Was it her? If so, why? Why had she come here now? Now that it was summer break, had she come back with her family to their vacation home? That was probably it, but even so… When she moved away from the righted bicycle, she put a hand to the brim of her hat and looked up in my direction, then started walking toward the front door of the house. I didn’t know what she was hoping to do, but she had obviously come to visit me/Teruya Sakaki. At length— Downstairs, the doorbell rang. I was at a loss, but finally went down to the foyer. But there was no way I could answer the doorbell here. Even if I was to respond, she wouldn’t be able to hear my “voice,” and if I said nothing and opened the door—if the door opened on its own and there were no one inside—she would be terribly surprised. I moved smoothly up to the door and peered outside through the peephole. But there was no longer anyone there. So she’d given up and gone home… …Should I chase after her? The thought came to me on the spur of the moment. But— What would I do when I caught up to her? What could I do in my current state? In the end, I did nothing—could do nothing—and went back to the library on the second floor. Scanning outside through the window, I didn’t see any figures anywhere. The crows were still scattered here and there, and one crow perched right next to the window spread its black wings wide and let out a Ka-kaaw. 4 With a vague sigh, I turned to the desk in the library. I sat in the chair and stared at the photo frame on the desk. The photo of August 3, 1987—eleven years ago. The photo from the last summer of middle school that brought back so many memories… The four people in the photo besides me were Yagisawa, Higuchi, Mitarai, and then Arai. Yes—they had been my friends in Yomiyama. My classmates in third-year Class 3, I remembered. That summer eleven years ago, almost as soon as the vacation started, they had come to visit me at this mansion…or rather, had fled here. Even if they hadn’t transferred schools and ceased belonging to third-year Class 3, when they went outside the city of Yomiyama, they could evade the “disasters.” That rule had been passed down to us. And so… Why not come here and be together, at least for summer break? I had invited them. And they had come. We had spent the month until summer break ended at this same Lakeshore Manor. Knowing the situation, my father understood my feelings and had let them stay for that long visit. As a result— During summer break, none of them were visited by disasters. Although we heard that some of the people with ties to the class who had stayed in Yomiyama had died in August… …These are the memories from eleven years ago that I had so far managed to dredge back up. I took the note out of the frame and set it beside the frame. Our five names were listed on the paper. Two of them—Yagisawa and Arai—had “X Dead” below them, which presumably meant that the disasters had befallen them sometime after they returned to Yomiyama in September when summer break ended and before graduation. Of the four who’d gone back to Yomiyama, Yagisawa and Arai had died because of it. I had gotten the information at the time and written it down in this note. No doubt in the desolate mood indicated by the writing. And yet… What were those phone calls about? The “we went through it all together back in North Yomi” phone call had been from Arai. “Arai” was this Arai, and he was supposed to have died a long time ago, and yet…And yet, how could it be? I hadn’t gotten any more calls from him since then, so the mystery remained just that, but… Speaking of mysteries, the mystery of the missing diary in the desk drawer also remained. Where had Memories 1998 disappeared to? Had I myself gotten rid of it for some reason? Or had someone taken it away? Heaving another sigh, I languidly rose from the chair. Just then— “Mr. Sakaki.” I suddenly heard a person’s voice from downstairs. “Mr. Sakaki, are you here?” What? Was this her—Mei Misaki’s—voice? “You are here, aren’t you Mr. Sakaki?” What was she doing inside the house? Hadn’t she given up and gone home? Had she come in through the back entrance? Now that I thought of it, that door was often left unlocked…Was that it? I should have gone to see what was going on, but for some reason, I was locked in doubt. Actually, it would be more correct to say I was flustered by this unexpected development. I stood rigid beside the desk, not moving a single step, and held my breath. Despite the fact that I was a ghost and there was no need to do any of this. After a while— I started to hear the intermittent slap of footsteps. She had put on slippers and come into the house. “Mr. Sakaki?” Every now and then she would call out, her voice drawing gradually closer with the sound of her footsteps. “I know you’re here, Mr. Sakaki.” I could tell she was coming up the stairs. If she had gone so far already, might she come into this library…? “Mr. Sakaki?” At last, I heard her voice nearby. Probably right outside the room. The closed door was pulled open, outward into the hallway. And then— Mei Misaki came into the room. 5 The desk was just to the left of the door, facing the far wall of the room. At that moment, I was standing in front of it. A large display shelf rested against the wall facing the door, offset slightly to the right. Just at that moment, a clock above the shelf chimed. It was something my late father had been fond of: A door below the faceplate opened and a white owl flew out and hooted to tell the hour. It was a battery-powered owl instead of cuckoo clock. The hour it tolled was one o’clock in the afternoon. Her attention apparently captivated by the clock, Mei Misaki came to a stop as soon as she’d stepped into the room and looked straight ahead at the shelves. She did not turn toward me. Of course she didn’t. Because I was a ghost, something living people couldn’t see. “Oh—” She made a small sound. “…A doll.” She took a step, then two, toward the window to the right, as viewed from the door. She walked as if entranced by the far shelf facing her. She had murmured correctly: There was a doll in the center of the shelves. A doll of a girl swathed in a black dress, about fifty centimeters tall. “That’s…” Mei Misaki’s voice once again escaped her. She seemed utterly fascinated by the doll for some reason… The next moment… Two events occurred almost simultaneously. The first was that Mei Misaki moved. With a short exhalation, she removed the eye patch covering her left eye. The second happened outside the window. A sudden, powerful gust of wind shook the glass of the eastward window. An instant later came the cawing of the crows outside. Kaaw! Ka-kaaw! The many voices jumped over one another, then the flapping of many wings added to the cacophony. The crows that had been perching all over the yard leaped into the air as one. From my position, I could see the shapes of the flock cutting past the window, black wings spread wide. I was sure Mei Misaki had an even clearer view, standing as close to the window as she was. And then— It happened immediately after these two events. With a start, Mei Misaki turned around and looked in my direction. Her gaze turned directly onto the place where I stood before the desk, and she cocked her head curiously. The eye patch she had taken off dangled from her left hand, and it was then that I noticed it had gotten quite dirty with mud or something. “Why?” Her lips moved very slightly. “Why…are you in a place like that?” She wasn’t talking to herself. Her words could only have been a question posed to someone standing in front of her, so— “Huh?” I “said” it reflexively, despite myself. “Can you really see me?” “Yes…I can…,” she replied, her right eye narrowing smoothly. There was a cold light in the false blue of her left eye. “…Why?” I was the one to ask the question this time. “Why can you see me? And you can hear me, too, can’t you?” “Yes…I can…” “Even though I’m a ghost.” “…A ghost.” Mei Misaki cocked her head again. “Teruya Sakaki died, and I’m his ghost, but— No one has been able to see me or hear my voice up until now. But you can?” “He died…” She tilted her head further to the side and took a step closer to me. “Mr. Sakaki…you died?” “Yes, I did,” I replied, my “voice” a terrible croak. “Really?” she asked, and I replied emphatically: “Yes, really! “The story seems to be that I’ve gone on a trip, but…in reality, I died at the beginning of May. In the foyer on the first floor of this house. After that, I became like this. A ghost…” My existence acknowledged by no one, unable to talk to anyone, of course…passing the time after my death until this moment in an unnatural, unstable, lonely state. “…I didn’t think you could see me. No one can see me in this form. But then, why can you see me? Why can you hear my voice?” “It’s…” She started to say something, then trailed off and looked hard at me for a long moment. Then she deliberately lifted her right hand and covered her right eye with her palm. Her left eye, still exposed—the vacant blue iris that should have been blind—she kept turned on me for another long while, never once blinking… “Your eye. That blue eye.” The words I myself had spoken to her that day last summer cut through my mind. “You might be seeing the same things I am…” Why had I said something like that to her that day? The same things as me, the same direction as me…Ah. It was— What was it? The question repeated itself, and as if in answer, a single word rose within me, accompanied by an eerie, unsettling trembling. It was— Death. 6 “How did you die, Mr. Sakaki?” With a short breath out, Mei lowered the hand covering her right eye. “You said it happened in the foyer on the first floor, but…was it an accident? Or what?” “Even I don’t really know,” I replied honestly. “I remember the scene from when I died, but the memories just before and after that aren’t clear. I don’t even know what happened to my body after I died or where it is now.” “Was there a funeral? A grave?” “That’s what I’m saying…For some reason, a funeral was never held and I was never interred in a grave.” “…” “So I think that’s probably why I’m like this. That’s why I’m sure…” A strong wind rattled the glass of the window once again. Looking outside, the sky appeared to threaten bad weather. It might start to rain soon. I looked back at Mei Misaki’s face as she stood opposite me. Even knowing that I was a ghost, she didn’t appear particularly frightened or unsettled and only blinked her right eye as if slightly befuddled. She now removed her hat and pursed her small lips. After a moment, she opened her mouth to begin: “Umm,” and at exactly the same time I spoke up, “More importantly—” “More importantly…what?” She deferred, urging me to continue. “More importantly—” I plunged ahead. “Your left eye.” “Wha—?” “Does that eye have some sort of special power maybe?” “Why do you think that?” “Well—” I replied with my exact thought. “Normal people can’t see me or hear me when I talk…And yet, you can. Could that be because of your left eye?” “Is that what you think?” “Yeah. Remember, a little while ago, as soon as you took off your eye patch? As soon as you took off the eye patch and exposed your left eye, you noticed I was here—you were able to see me. So…” “Mmm.” Holding the brim of her hat against her slight chin, she said, “Yes, I suppose that could be true. Does it bother you?” “Well…” “Hmm.” She puffed out her right cheek ever so slightly. A faint, dubious smile seemed to creep over her lips. And then she spoke. “I’m a bit different. Especially this doll’s eye. I’m not like normal people…Even if I explained, you wouldn’t believe me, though.” “So I was right…” “With that eye of yours, you might be seeing the same things I am…” …The same things. Looking in the same direction. “Why is your eye patch so dirty?” “Before, I was…” She pouted her lips, looking uncomfortable. Then suddenly she pointed at the display shelf at the back of the room. “What’s that?” she asked. “Huh?” “That doll. It wasn’t there when I came last year.” As she spoke, she crept closer to the shelf. She brought her face close to the tiny white face of the doll, which wore a black dress. “There was a doll expo in the town of Soabi at the end of last year…” Somehow, I managed to drag the memory forth. “…I liked this one very much, so I bought it.” “I see. It was nice of you to buy it, Mr. Sakaki.” “Oh?” “Did you know it’s one of Kirika’s?” “Kirika?…Oh, that’s right.” I remembered now. “That’s your mother’s professional name, right? She’s shown me some of the ones she has at the vacation house…After that, I found this at the expo and I wanted it very much.” “…Hmm.” She tossed her head in a nod, then turned back to me and dropped her head to the side. “But— “Mr. Sakaki, you died, right? At the start of May, in that big foyer on the first floor?” Both her eyes—the slightly narrowed right eye and the blue left eye—were trained on me unwaveringly. “I probably fell from the second-floor corridor and broke my neck or something,” I replied automatically. “I found repairs to a broken spot in the corridor railing. That’s why I think I fell from there.” “What about the reasons for your fall?” she asked, but I shook my head languidly. “That…I can’t really remember.” “An amnesiac ghost, huh?” Underscoring Mei Misaki’s words, a strong gust of wind shook the window glass yet again. Low and far away, there was a sound like thunder. “…I’d like to hear more,” she said abruptly, taking two or three steps toward me. I grew flustered (despite being a ghost!), and a feeble “Huh?” slipped out of me. “There must be things you remember or that you’ve recalled. I’d like to hear more about even just those things. Tell me.” “Uh…Uh, right.” I assented nervously, then spilled a torrent of words on her. Every little thing that had happened since I’d died and become a ghost…As if a barrier had been broken. I think— Yes, I think I must have been very lonely and very sad these three long months.