Chapter 134

Chapter 2 April II 1 After the opening ceremony, it was time for the first homeroom period with the new class. But as my title implied, it would be best if the “non-exister” wasn’t around for it. With that in mind, I had made a timely exit. There was still an issue weighing on my mind, but I convinced myself that if what I knew about her was true, she was sure to do a good job. There’s no need for me to follow her every move, and my starting to act all weird will only complicate things. I wonder if I should just go home for the day. I felt a bit rudderless after leaving the classroom. Everyone else was still in the middle of homeroom, so there wasn’t a single soul wandering the school corridors— Trying to shuffle along quietly, I made my way to the stairwell. I hadn’t decided to go home. How about I try going out on the roof—for some reason, that was what I set my mind on. The steel door that led onto the roof was painted a cream color, and as usual, a piece of paper reading NO UNNECESSARY ACCESS had been stuck to it with masking tape. The half-hearted prohibition was scrawled out in red ink. Something told me that few students actually heeded its injunction. I opened the door, and on the other side of it, naturally, was no one. Just the dreary, filthy concrete roof of a three-story municipal building. The iron railing that wound around the edge was grimy as well, stained reddish-brown with rust. I walked up to the railing overlooking the athletic fields and did some light stretching. It was still partly cloudy, as it had been earlier that morning. When I looked up, I saw several ebon birds flying low across the sky. Crows. Kaah, kaaaahhh… As I listened to their cries, I recalled something— Oh yeah… There was that old superstition. “If you hear the calling of crows on the roof, make sure to step back inside with your left foot when you reenter the building. If you don’t, you’ll soon meet misfortune.” It was a rumor that I had heard from somebody not long after starting school here, and there was another one like it. “Once you start the third grade, be careful not to fall on the road up the hill behind the school’s rear gate. If you do, you’ll flunk your high school entrance exams.” Of course, I didn’t put any stock in either jinx. They were the sort of thing you heard here and there, the so-called “Seven Mysteries of North Yomi.” More people than I would have expected seemed to take them seriously, but to me, all these alleged mysteries seemed like common ghost stories. To be honest, I’d already gotten more than my fill of unscientific, occult tales of “ghosts,” “psychic phenomena,” “curses,” and the like three years ago, but— There was only one exception: namely, the “phenomenon” affecting Grade 3 Class 3, which I was now facing head-on. There’s no way I can dismiss this as “unscientific” or “occult”… The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and I started seeing the figures of students flow out of the school building below me. But I decided to stay up on the roof alone for a little while longer. I considered going to peek into the biology club room later but decided against it for today. It would be better to alert Shunsuke Kouda, the club president, of my situation by e-mail or phone call. So then… Just as I was considering my next move, the cell phone that I carried in the inner pocket of my uniform jacket started vibrating with a call. “So it was an ‘on year,’ huh?” The person who abruptly inquired this was none other than Shunsuke Kouda. “Uh, yeah,” I answered as indifferently as possible. “Word gets around fast.” “I just heard from Keisuke.” “Oh.” Keisuke was the name of his twin and younger brother. And this younger Kouda brother was a member of Grade 3 Class 3 this year. Any information related to the phenomenon was supposed to have been kept secret from “outsiders,” but I wasn’t surprised that Keisuke had already spilled the beans to Shunsuke. “What’re you gonna do about club activities?” he asked me. There was a problem with that. “I told you before, didn’t I?” I responded. “Morishita is in Class 3, too.” “Ah, right.” There were three third-years in the biology club. Shunsuke and I were two, and the third was a boy named Morishita. “Say that he came into the clubroom—I would have to act as the ‘non-exister.’ I wouldn’t be able to say a word to anyone else there.” “But he’s been, like, a ghost member for half a year. He doesn’t ever show.” “Guess we’ll have to wait and see for a little while.” “You think so? —Mm, you’re right.” At that moment, I could almost see Shunsuke gripping his phone and blinking his small eyes behind his thick wire-rimmed glasses. “Well anyway, swing by the clubroom sometime soon. There’s some stuff I want to discuss with you.” “Sure thing.” “All right, see you soon. I wrote this in my e-mail yesterday, too, but I’m praying for your safety.” “Thanks.” We hung up, and as I put my phone back in my pocket, another crow cawed, high up in the sky. Well then, which foot should I step on when I go back inside? Deliberating over the question, I turned to go. 2 I left the school building, then headed for the back gate, which was on the south side of the sports field. Though I didn’t encounter any of my new classmates from Grade 3 Class 3 on the way, I’d gone a few paces outside the gate when— “Hiratsuka.” Someone called my name, and I stopped in my tracks. I immediately knew who was addressing me, since this was the second time she’d done that today. That voice— “Hiratsuka…um, I mean, Sou?” It was Yuika Hazumi. She had been standing by herself beside the barrier. She wore a slightly awkward smile and was tilting her head somewhat nervously. “Ah, hey,” I answered, also rather clumsily. This should be okay. We’re technically not on school grounds anymore. With that in mind, I asked, “What’s up? Why are you here?” At this, Hazumi quickly walked up to me and answered, “I was waiting for you.” “…For me?” “You were on the roof just a minute ago, weren’t you?” “Uh, yeah?” “I could see you from down here. So I thought maybe I could meet you if I hung around a bit. You leave from this gate when you’re going straight home, don’t you, Sou?” “Yeah.” I nodded and looked her in the face. She seemed surprised and cast her eyes down and to the side. “…So?” I asked again. “What’s up?” “Well, I wanted to talk some things over with you. I mean, this is my first time dealing with something like this.” I’m sure that’s true. You’re probably anxious. I could sympathize. “Here.” Hazumi pulled something out of her bag and held it to me. It was a single sheet of white paper, folded in half. I took it and opened it up. “Ah…when did you get this?” I asked, still gazing down at my hands. “Earlier, in homeroom,” she replied. “The teacher left them on her podium for us to take home with us. So I grabbed one for you, too.” After I’d left early, Hazumi must have stayed behind until homeroom ended. “I wonder if that’s all right?” I asked, just to be sure. “No one’s supposed to talk to me or say my name, so what about that?” “Well, I didn’t do either, so it’s all right.” Her voice was bright, but she still had her head tilted uneasily. “But,” she continued, “it sure does feel weird when you get right down to it.” “I’m sure everyone else thinks the same,” I responded. I took another look at the sheet of paper that I had taken from her. It was a class roster for Grade 3 Class 3. Teachers always passed out these kinds of documents during homeroom at the start of the semester, but… Even at a glance, I could see that this year’s roster differed from that of a normal class. It listed students’ full names, addresses, and phone numbers in order of student ID number. But in the middle of the list, there was a row that had been crossed out with double lines, redacted— “A roster for an ‘on year,’ huh?” They hadn’t crossed out the row after printing it, either. It was clear that it had been obscured in the digital copy as well. Evidently, just blacking it out with a marker didn’t cut it. “The school prepared two versions in advance. The ‘on year’ version and the ‘off year’ version.” Yep, that sounds like Ms. Kanbayashi. I had taken her science class back when I was a first-year. To put it kindly, she’s very serious and precise. To put it unkindly, she’s boring and inflexible. But at least that means she’s probably fit to handle being the homeroom teacher for Class 3 during an “on year.” “Ms. Kanbayashi’s not my favorite,” Hazumi continued, almost as though she was talking to herself. “She seems a little cold. I mean, you can’t tell what she’s feeling.” “I don’t think she’s a bad person, though. Actually, if she can be dispassionate like that, then I think…” It’s easier that way. I can’t really handle people who go through emotional highs and lows, foisting their feelings onto everyone around them. Even if those sentiments happen to be things like enthusiasm and positivity. I glanced down at the sheet in my hands. A class roster made for the 2001 school year, Grade 3 Class 3, in an “on year.” The two redacted lines contained my full name, Sou Hiratsuka, along with my address and phone number. Deleting them was reasonable; that way, everyone in class would be sure about the identity of the “non-exister” from today until the graduation ceremony next March. And also— There is another name on this class roster that has been redacted in the same manner, struck through with double lines—Yuika Hazumi. 3 “I wonder if that’s enough?” One of the students had raised this question at the “strategy session” last March. “I mean, is that really the only ‘countermeasure’ we need to take?” The girl named Etou voiced her opinion. She’d brought up what had transpired three years earlier—during the 1998 school year. Her older cousin had been in Grade 3 Class 3 that year, and Etou had heard the story after the fact. 1998 had been an “on year,” so they’d taken the “countermeasure” of designating a student as the “non-exister.” Due to unforeseen circumstances, however, the strategy hadn’t worked out, and the “accidents” started in full swing. Whereupon they added a new emergency “countermeasure”—namely, they’d tried adding a second “non-exister.” Nobody could say whether this “additional countermeasure” had actually succeeded or not, because even after designating a second “non-exister,” various “accidents” continued to befall the class, and several more “related individuals” wound up losing their lives. And yet, the “accidents” ceased at the end of summer vacation, even though they’d been expected to continue until March of the following year. Perhaps the “additional countermeasure” of designating two “non-existers” had achieved some kind of effect in the end. And so—that’s what Etou had proposed during the meeting. She suggested having two “non-existers” from the beginning of the year. Previously, the “countermeasure” of a single “non-exister” had been enough to prevent the “accidents,” provided everything went well. By that logic, it followed that implementing double the “countermeasures” would also double the chance that they would succeed. Even if, for instance, one of the “non-existers” caved under the pressure and abandoned their role partway through the year (something that had apparently happened once before), as long as the second “non-exister” fulfilled their duties, the “accidents” would never start. It was effectively a form of “insurance.” “I mean, is that really the only ‘countermeasure’ we need to take?” In short, the real meaning behind Etou’s question was that choosing just one “non-exister” made her anxious, so she wanted the class to try taking additional “countermeasures” right from the beginning of the school year. Ms. Kanbayashi had reacted by saying that the motion was “worth considering,” then asked the students for their opinions. The students were just about equally divided between those in favor and those who shied away from responding. Strangely enough, not a single person had spoken up to oppose the idea, so— A major change would be added to this year’s “countermeasures”—there would be two “non-existers.” By that point, I had already volunteered to be the “first,” but choosing the “second” hadn’t been so easy… In the end, we decided it via a lottery using playing cards. The class counted out a number of cards equal to the number of students, making sure that one was a joker—the person who drew the wild card would be selected. Everyone, including the previously elected countermeasures officers, was required to participate in the lottery. And so— The person who’d pulled the card to become the second “non-exister” was…Yuika Hazumi. 4 “You know, if I’m being honest, I still can’t believe this is all happening…” Hazumi and I chatted as we walked along the path up the hill beyond the back gate. “Hmm?” “I mean, I found you this morning to wish you good luck, in case the worst came to pass, but I never thought it would really…” “Happen?” “Yeah. But no matter how you slice it…” “It’s undeniable that there weren’t enough desks and chairs, right?” “I keep thinking that it must have been some kind of fluke, that there just happened to be too few.” “No way… If you don’t believe in this stuff, then why did you accept being a ‘non-exister’? It’s certainly not going to be much fun.” “Well…” Hazumi struggled with her answer. “That’s, um, because I drew the joker.” “If you really didn’t want to do it, I think you could have put your foot down during the meeting.” “That would… I mean…” She left it there. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand how she felt. Even after the “handover ceremony” and “strategy session” back in March, incredulity and disbelief were probably the most realistic reactions for a normal student. However— “Are you going to be all right, Hazumi?” I inquired, putting some intensity in my voice. “We’ve got to take this seriously.” “Huh?” “This thing with Grade 3 Class 3, it’s not like the rest of the Seven Mysteries or the other legends around town. It’s a real phenomenon that’s been happening at this institution for the past twenty-eight years.” Hazumi stopped walking and nodded, confusion plain on her face. “Y-yeah.” But then she immediately shook her head slightly and added, “I’ve heard that, but…but how do I say this? Without actually experiencing it myself—” “If you wait for that, it’ll be too late,” I interrupted, my tone growing strict. “If our ‘countermeasures’ fail, and the ‘accidents’ start occurring…people will die. No, really. A lot of people will die.” “…………” “You know, I’ve heard the stories directly from people who actually went through it. So…” Actually, I’d heard everything from Uncle Teruya, who’d passed away three years ago. Fourteen years earlier—in 1987, he was a member of Grade 3 Class 3 at North Yomi. That year had been an “on year,” and many people had been “dragged into death” due to various “accidents.” Teruya had watched it all happen… “Capisce?” I stared straight into Hazumi’s eyes and reminded her of the stakes. “We have to take this seriously. This isn’t a game.” The look of confusion faded from her visage, replaced with a humble expression. Then she nodded again, slowly, and broke into a childlike smile the next moment. “I understand. And I’ll be all right. Let’s do our best together, Sou.” 5 After that, we continued on, chatting about this and that. It mostly consisted of me answering Hazumi’s questions. “They say that the ‘extra person’ who is added to our roster is already deceased; is that true?” “Yeah. Moreover, that dead person, ‘the casualty,’ is apparently one of the ‘related individuals’ who died in a prior ‘accident.’” “So they’re a ghost? Or a zombie? In that case, it seems like they would be easy to spot.” Although Hazumi must have heard the answer to this sort of question during the general explanation we’d all received at the “handover ceremony” in March, she didn’t seem to have fully grasped the nuances from just that basic rundown. I had no choice but to go over it again. “They’re different from a ghost in that they have a physical body and different from a zombie in that they are truly among the living. It’s as though they’ve been resurrected. By all appearances, they’re no different than any other living thing. Even if they were to undergo a health exam…if a curious doctor inspected them, they could never tell the difference. And the ‘casualty’ themselves has absolutely no idea that they’re already deceased.” “Even their families can’t tell? If a kid who passed a long time ago rose from their grave, you would think they’d notice!” “You’re right on that front—but apparently, they can’t tell.” “But there’s so much evidence…” “It’s because all the records and memories related to that person are somehow altered or modified. Right up until the ‘extra person’ disappears after the graduation ceremony.” “…………” “That’s why nobody notices, and why we can’t confirm their identity. It’s a very peculiar ‘phenomenon’ in that way.” “Phenomenon?” “Uh, yeah, phenomenon. It’s not a ‘curse’ or ‘spell,’ you know. It’s a ‘phenomenon’ nobody’s to blame for—at least that seems to be the accepted theory.” That piece of information didn’t come from Teruya—I’d only learned it after his death. Shortly after the incident, during summer three years ago, Mei Misaki and one of her classmates from Grade 3, Koichi Sakakibara, had explained this to me. I’d heard the same thing from Mr. Chibiki, the head of the school’s “secondary library,” who’d concurred with that assessment when I visited him on Mei’s suggestion. Mr. Chibiki, however, preferred to use the label of “supernatural natural phenomenon.” I was mulling over this sudden recollection when— We emerged onto the path that led along the Yomiyama River. The peaceful flow of the water was no different than it had been this morning. Moreover, the chill of the wind was somewhat more temperate than it had been earlier. “That sheet we were looking at before…” Hazumi pointed at her backpack, which she had hanging from one shoulder. “The class roster already has the name of the ‘casualty’ on it, right?” “It should,” I replied. “Hmm.” She pouted slightly. “I still can’t quite wrap my mind around it… Oh, but it’s all right! I’ll do my part to play the role of a ‘non-exister.’” It sounded like she was trying to put me in a good mood, to reassure me. She followed up with a short sigh. “Tomorrow morning is the entrance ceremony, right? Second and third grades only have homeroom class, but what will you do, Sou?” “Stay home.” “I guess they can’t scold you for it, huh?” “Ms. Kanbayashi goes without saying, and all the other teachers also know about the situation and are playing along, so…no.” “Yeah, it’s kind of incredible.” I debated going to the riverbank, but I was with Hazumi, so I gave up on that idea. As we continued slowly down the path, I suggested, “How about we go over the rules again?” “Rules?” “The guidelines for ‘non-existers.’” “Ah, those!” Hazumi put up her index finger and tapped it against the middle of her lips. “Generally speaking, we need to avoid speaking to anyone in our class while we’re at school. That includes Ms. Kanbayashi.” “That’s right.” “But it’s okay to talk with students from other classes.” “Yes.” All it took to avoid misfortune was for the students of Grade 3 Class 3 to agree on a “non-exister.” This understanding hadn’t changed since the school had first implemented the current set of “countermeasures.” “What we have to be careful about is courses with teachers other than Ms. Kanbayashi. It’s fine for us to have normal contact with those instructors if we’re away from our classroom, but not when they’re actually teaching. That’s because we’ll be in the same place as our classmates. During that time, all the teachers know that they should, for instance, avoid making us read aloud by calling on the students in seat order.” “So they aren’t allowed to address the ‘non-existers’ during instruction, right?” Hazumi asked. “That’s exactly it.” As far as I knew, the teachers had their own set of rules to follow, which differed from the guidelines that had been passed down to the students over the years. “And we have to sit out during gym?” “Well, we obviously can’t participate in group sports like baseball or soccer. And sitting out would be preferable even for solo sports like running and swimming.” “Good thing I hate PE.” “That about does it for the basic rules when we’re at school,” I told her. “Um…so that brings us to the next question. We can talk to other people in Class 3 once we leave the school grounds, right?” “Honestly, I’ve heard some people say that we shouldn’t ever speak to them, even outside of school, but apparently, the current rules allow it.” “It would be way too hard to keep that up all the time.” “The thing is—” I hedged my last statement. “—even if you’re off campus, the ‘non-existers’ need to stay ‘non-existers’ during school events, like field trips or class outings. Making the right call in those situations can be tricky, so I think it’s safer just to avoid any contact with Class 3 whenever possible, even outside of school. Especially on the way to and from campus. It pays to be cautious then.” “Seems like it’ll be rough with all these things to keep in mind.” “Sure will… Ah, but becoming a ‘non-exister’ is totally different than being bullied and ignored in class, you know. Don’t forget that, okay?” “—Mm.” Hazumi nodded and gave another short sigh. Then she asked me something. “Sou, why did you put your hand straight up during the ‘strategy session’ in March?” “Oh, back then…” I mulled it over for a second, then gave her a harmless, ineffectual answer. “Well, it was because I thought I would be suited for the job.” “What made you think that?” I tried to change the subject without addressing her follow-up question. “Since you’re becoming a ‘non-exister,’ you’ll have to deliberately act like no one else can see you. In a way, it’s almost like becoming a ghost. Can you handle that?” “—I’ll do my best.” Hazumi nodded and brushed down her hair, which was being thrown about by the wind. “I’m sure it would be impossible by myself, but as long as you’re with me, Sou…” “One more thing. This isn’t limited just to us ‘non-existers,’ but we’re supposed to keep the special circumstances of Grade 3 Class 3 a secret from outsiders. Even with family—you can’t be irresponsible and confide in them.” “Sure. The teachers told us that at the meeting in March.” “They said that revealing too much invites disaster, right? It sounds like it’s not totally prohibited, but I’m sure it’s smart to follow the guidelines as best we can.” Hazumi said she understood, but I actually thought that we probably didn’t need to be too concerned about this stipulation. Mei had said as much, too. She’d dismissed it as one of those bits of “common knowledge” that develop out of an overabundance of caution. “Come to think of it, are you in any clubs?” I asked Hazumi, suddenly concerned. “Not right now.” She shook her head slightly. “But I was in the drama club until last year. I’ve already quit, though.” In that case, I don’t need to worry. There’s no chance she’ll slip up and interact with a classmate during club activities. Around that time, the Izana Bridge, the pedestrian bridge I had crossed that morning, came into view ahead— “Oh, I almost forgot—” I realized I had forgotten to tell her something. I guess we’d better talk it over now. “Listen, Hazumi, there’s one more thing…” The moment I spoke up, however, she started making a statement of her own. “You know, Sou, you…” We both shut our mouths at once, locked in a kind of stalemate. The flock of birds that had settled on the river’s surface flew off together, as if startled by something. As their movement caught my attention, Hazumi seized the moment and kept talking. “Um, so, about your address that was on the class roster I gave you earlier…” “My address…? Oh.” I immediately guessed what she wanted to bring up. “There was a Tobii address written for you, and after that it said ‘care of the Akazawas,’ right? Um, is that the same Akazawa family that, well…” “My address has been the same ever since first grade. You just noticed today?” “Uh, yeah.” “You want to know why I’m in the ‘care of the Akazawas’?” “—Yeah.” “It’s a little complicated,” I confessed. “I’ve been staying at their place since I was in sixth grade of elementary school. The Hiratsuka family home is in Hinami… There were…a number of reasons I had to leave.” I didn’t want to tell her all the details. Hazumi seemed like she still wanted to drill me on the subject, but I pretended like I didn’t notice and turned away from her. “So then, the Akazawas…” We were just coming up on the bridge when she started working up to another question. I could get home by continuing to follow the path by the river, but I came to a halt and told her, “I’ll leave you here today.” “Huh…?” she said, confused. I looked away from her again. “I’ve got an errand to run over that way,” I said, gazing across the bridge. I was a bit concerned about the thing I’d forgotten to mention earlier, which I had been just about to tell her, but… Well, I guess it’s probably all right. I don’t have to tell her right this second. I can bring it up to her tomorrow or after normal classes start. “Okay then. See you later.” I waved casually and strode across the bridge. Hazumi stood there waving back at me, her hand low in front of her chest. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind tossed her long hair into her face, obscuring her expression the moment I turned back. 6 BLUE EYES EMPTY TO ALL, IN THE TWILIGHT OF YOMI The sign, with its cream-colored letters painted onto a black background, hadn’t changed since my first visit three years ago, during autumn. Standing out front of the first floor of a mixed-use building situated on a corner of the quiet residential neighborhood of Misaki and facing out toward the sloping street, the sign marked the entrance to a doll gallery with an eccentric name. I hadn’t been lying when I’d told Hazumi that I had something to do, but that “errand” was, well… Let’s just say I didn’t exactly have plans to meet up with someone or anything like that. I’d simply wanted to drop in at the gallery— A short distance from the entrance was a large, elliptical display window. This showing area had been adorned with the same doll (the upper half of an eerily beautiful girl) since I’d first visited. But when I swung by last February, she was gone. Someone had paid her full price and taken her home. I felt kind of lonely without her there, but I imagined that Kirika, the artist who’d made her, was probably overjoyed that her creations were selling. Although depending on the doll, she probably felt something like loneliness when they went, too. Now there was nothing in the window where the eerie torso had once stood. It was still empty. Today there was no CLOSED sign hanging up. Just as I was about to enter, I decided to stop for a second and make a call. From my cell phone to hers—to Mei Misaki. There was no response. Mei lived on the third floor of this building. The second floor, Studio M, belonged to the doll artist Kirika—Mei’s mother. She wasn’t picking up. Evidently, the girl who hadn’t hesitated to point at my phone and call it an “awful device” didn’t have hers within reach at the moment. Or maybe… I wasn’t even sure whether Mei would be home at this hour, since she was in high school. But there was a reason I’d come all this way…I wanted to inform her of the situation facing this year’s Grade 3 Class 3 straightaway. And I wanted her thoughts on the matter. After deliberating over what to do for a moment, I pushed the doors open and went inside. The doorbell tinkled with a dull chime. It was the middle of the afternoon, but the inside of the gallery was wrapped in a dusky gloom. The instant I set foot inside, it felt like light had disappeared from the entire world. “Welcome,” came a familiar, muffled voice. From across a long, thin table immediately to the left of the entry, behind an ancient cash register, sat an old woman with white hair, dressed in dark-gray clothes that almost blended into the gloom of the gallery. Her glasses were fitted with dark-green lenses. Pinching the temple piece between her fingers, she stuck her neck out over the table and stared at me. “Oh, it’s Sou!” Mei called this woman Grandma Amane. She was Mei’s great-aunt on her mother’s side, and she was always here, welcoming the customers. “Hello,” I greeted her quietly. Grandma Amane moved her wrinkled mouth in a chewing motion. “Yes, hello. You’ve grown, haven’t you, Sou?” I feel like she says that every time I come here. I’d first visited this gallery three years ago in October. Back then, I was still just an elementary school sixth-year, so I was much shorter—my voice hadn’t even settled yet. So yes, it was true that I had grown. “You’re a friend to the shop, so you don’t need to pay. Are you going to see the dolls?” In front of the register was a small blackboard with the words GALLERY ENTRY—¥500 written on it in yellow chalk. Student viewings were typically half price, but I’d gotten a “friend discount” ever since my first visit, so I’d never paid for entry. “Um, actually—” I did enjoy looking at the dolls and paintings on display. But that’s not why I came here today, so… “Did you come to see Mei?” “Yes.” I nodded intently. “I called her phone, but it didn’t go through, so I came in. Is she at school?” “She’s upstairs,” Grandma Amane told me. “But she can’t see you today.” “Huh?” I reflexively tilted my head. “Why…?” “She’s been stuck in bed sick since the day before yesterday, you know.” Sick? Maybe the flu—I see. “Seems like her fever hasn’t gone down yet, either. I wouldn’t want you to catch it, so I can’t let you go upstairs, all right?” “—I didn’t know.” I glanced up at the gallery’s dark ceiling and took a deep breath. “Thank you very much. Um, well, please take care.” “She’s young; you don’t have to worry. I’ll tell her you came by, Sou.” “Ah, sure. Please do, thanks.” I bowed politely and left the shop. I’ll give it a few days, then try to reach her again. —Although… If she’s got the flu and a high fever, she must be in pretty rough shape. So why did she go out of her way to e-mail me last night? That thought began, ever so slightly, to unravel the thread of tension that had been stretched tight ever since that morning. Stepping outside, I cast my gaze once again on the sign, BLUE EYES EMPTY TO ALL, IN THE TWILIGHT OF YOMI. The words Blue Eyes Empty to All naturally recalled the color of Mei Misaki’s left iris, of her “doll’s eye.” 7 Even now, I still occasionally had the dreams. They’d started before I came to town—when I’d still been living in my family home in Hinami. I would have terrifying visions, nightmares born from fragments of the experiences I was having at the time. They were usually set at Lakeshore Manor near Lake Minazuki. Uncle Teruya had lived there alone while he was still alive— Teruya’s older sister—my mother, Tsukiho, in other words—changed her surname to Hiratsuka when she remarried ten years ago and had a daughter, Mirei, with her second husband—my stepfather, in other words. Since I didn’t fit into this new household, I would often go to stay at Lakeshore Manor. Uncle Teruya both worried about me and doted on me, treating me more like a little brother than a nephew, and filled me in on all sorts of things I hadn’t known before. I loved him. He’d had a library filled with so many books that I couldn’t have read them all even if I spent the rest of my life at his house. I’d loved spending time there by myself, too. However… The spring of three years ago brought Uncle Teruya’s sudden death. The night of his twenty-sixth birthday. Suicide. A long time coming. And— The beginning of a series of unusual incidents. My memories of that time were…bizarre. Any normal person would think I was delusional. Usually, I kept them shut away in a little box that I had created in a corner of my mind, but it wasn’t like I could completely forget about them. And there were some memories that I could never completely contain, no matter how hard I tried. If I cracked open the box, even just a little, they would come rushing back in vivid detail. And that little box was the source of my nightmares. Sometimes, when I was sleeping, the seal on the container would break, and all the things that had been stuffed away would come spilling out… …For example— Once, I dreamed I was in the back garden of Lakeshore Manor, taking a knee in the dirt. Stretching out before me were rows and rows of crosses, made crudely out of scraps of wood (—like that scene from Forbidden Games, an old French movie…). One of these crosses was much newer and larger than the rest. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I reached out to that cross with both hands. But when I grabbed the horizontal bar and tried to pull it out of the ground…suddenly— The earth right in front of the cross split open, and a bloody human hand pushed its way out of the dirt. It was exactly…it was just like the famous shocking final scene from an old horror movie I had borrowed during my first year of middle school. The hand that had emerged from the dirt grabbed me by the ankle. I let out a shriek. Then, one after the other, the rows of crosses burst from the ground and toppled over. The fallen objects proceeded to blacken, as though they had been scorched, before turning into ash and blowing away in the wind. Giant crows appeared in the sky. Flapping their huge wings, they let out piercing shrieks, spitting up streams of dark blood. That very same fluid began to gush from my mouth as I continued to scream. The blood became rain, and the rain begat a flood. I struggled and sank, and there at the bottom of the deep sea of blood, I would finally awaken from the dream. Or how about this one— I would start out the dream in pitch-black. There wasn’t even the slightest glimmer of light; it was literally total darkness… Then suddenly, I would notice a bad smell. The more aware of it I became, the worse the stench got…and as soon as I thought I couldn’t stand it anymore, a meager light would fill the inky black. Then I would see it— A corpse. Somebody’s dead body, resting on a filthy sofa. Rotten skin. Rotten flesh. Rotten innards… Uncountable swarms of squirming insects. This corpse is me—I would think as I stared at it. I’m here, deceased. I’m dead, and I’ve transformed into this ugly, disgusting thing. I— I am the “casualty” after all. And it’s not anyone else. I and I alone am the “casualty,” the person who will send everyone to their doom. It’s me. I’m the one… Then, when I was at my wits’ end and about to shriek— Bang! An intense noise would shake the entire world. The corpse would crumble and lose all its shape, as though it had been bludgeoned by an invisible ax. Together with the sofa, it would dissolve into a viscous black liquid and melt into the darkness. Then it would spread out around my feet and climb up my body, inching slowly from my legs toward my mouth…and just as I was about to let out a voiceless scream, I would awaken from the nightmare with a start. Today, I’d also had one of these dreams. After staying through dinner at the Akazawas’ house, I’d gone back to my apartment and laid down on my bed, where I unfortunately dozed off. It was really just a few minutes, but during that short snooze… A low rumbling sound came from somewhere. I immediately realized that it was the vibration of my cell phone set to silent mode. That was probably what caused me to open my eyes. As I sat up and reached for my phone, which I’d tossed on the desk, the buzz of the incoming call stopped. I checked my voice mail and saw that Yagisawa had tried to reach me. Last night, he told me his phone was busted, but I guess he got it fixed already. He’d left a message. —Heya, it’s Yagisawa. Thanks for playing your role; it’s a tough job. I think it’s okay for me to contact you like this, as long as it’s after school hours. My optimistic prediction may have been wrong, but let’s do our best and try not to dwell on it. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Right? Talk to you later. Hmm, as laid-back as ever, I see. I smiled knowingly but decided against calling him back. Sure, it was after school, so I wouldn’t be breaking the rules by reaching out to him now. But as I had gently reminded Hazumi, my “number two,” it was best to avoid as much contact with our classmates as possible even when we weren’t on campus. If I tried keeping up with my friends like normal outside of school, then I might slip at some point when we were there… It would be all too easy for an accident like that to happen. That’s how I saw it, anyway, so that would be my policy going forward. Even under these circumstances, I wasn’t going to return his call. I wouldn’t ignore everyone who rang me up or refuse to answer everyone who spoke to me, but I was at least going to actively avoid making contact. —Yeah. That’s probably best for the time being. 8 I got up to wash my face and looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. It had been two years and seven months since I’d arrived in Yomiyama. I could see that my features had changed a lot in that time, but my face was still pale and small, and I looked kind of androgynous depending on the angle. My underlying complexion was still the same. And though my voice had definitely gotten lower, I still didn’t have much facial hair growing in yet… I washed my face with cold water to bring myself back to my senses after my nap. Just as I considered taking a full shower, I remembered that I had no soap or shampoo in my bathroom. Come to think of it, I didn’t even have a toothbrush and toothpaste at the sink. I’d forgotten to bring them when I moved. This morning, I had gone to the Akazawas’ house and brushed my teeth while I was there, but I had yet again forgotten to bring any toiletries up to my apartment. Maybe I can get them tomorrow. I looked at the clock. It was past nine. It’s getting a little late, but… I’m gonna go get them. I’d made up my mind. As I left the apartment, I stuck my cell phone in my jacket pocket with my keys, thinking nothing of it. But just as I was about to push the elevator call button in the lobby, an incoming call brought my phone to life. Deliberately suppressing my excitement, I picked up with a short, “Yes?” “Ah…Sou?” A weak, hoarse voice answered me. “Mei?” I’d seen that it was her from the display, but I couldn’t help confirming it regardless. “Mei, is that you? Um…ah—” As I searched for the right words, I heard her coughing on the other end. “Are you all right? I heard you had the flu, so…” “Grandma Amane told me you came by the gallery,” she responded before coughing again for a while. “Uh, are you…okay?” “Sorry. My fever has come down a bit, but I’m still…” “You should take it easy.” “Don’t worry. I don’t think I’m gonna die or anything.” What the…? Don’t say it like that! It’s bad luck! “Why did you go out of your way to come visit? Was it what I think it was?” she asked. I answered immediately. “That’s right. Today, after the opening ceremony, we had homeroom, and—” “It’s an ‘on year,’ isn’t it?” “Yep.” “I see.” “And, um, I’m also this year’s ‘non-exister.’” “So you went and did it, huh?” When I’d visited her back in February, I’d revealed my intention to take the position if the worst occurred. “I—” Unconsciously gripping the device in my hand ever tighter, I responded, “I can’t run away from this responsibility, so…” “Mm-hmm.” “Oh, and Mei? Actually, this year is a little…” Just as I was about to tell her about the “additional countermeasure” of having two “non-existers,” she burst into another coughing fit on the other end of the line. I trailed off and reconsidered. “It seems like speaking is hard on you, so…I’ll call you back later, after you’re feeling better,” I told her, then added, “but thanks for reaching out.” Mei had to be feeling pretty bad, because all she could manage was a hoarse “understood” before our conversation came to an end. However— No sooner had I hung up and put my phone back in my pocket with a sigh than the door to unit <E-1> by the elevator (the room I’d mentioned earlier that didn’t have a nameplate) flung open. 9 It moved so suddenly that I leaped back, but there wasn’t any particular reason to be surprised. This apartment also had someone living in it, and she just happened to be stepping out at the moment. The woman who came out of <E-1> was someone I knew very well— “Oh, Sou!” she said once she recognized me. “Perfect timing. Would you give me a hand?” She was clutching garbage bags in both her hands. Three in total. “Help me throw these out, please?” “Huh…ah, s-sure.” She was dressed casually in a baggy blue sweatshirt and jeans, so it took me a second to place her, but that face and that voice…there was no doubt about it. That was definitely her. We’d seen each other earlier that day, at school, in the Grade 3 Class 3 classroom. She was the girl who had instructed the students who were unsure about sitting down, “Let’s take our seats for now, everyone.” The girl who was serving as one of the countermeasures officers that year— “My room was a total mess. I had so many things I didn’t need,” she told me, shoving one of the bags into my hands. “I promised I would take care of keeping the place clean, but…man, it turned into a dump before I knew it.” Although she was speaking casually, her voice was still energetic and articulate. “You’re going to be living up here alone for a while, aren’t you, Sou?” “Yeah, I am. Probably until about June.” “Well, the main house isn’t far, so I’m sure you won’t want for anything.” She zipped past me and pushed the elevator button. “You can come talk to me anytime you’re having trouble, whether that’s with everyday stuff or with what’s going on in class…okay?” “Uh, sure. Thanks.” We rode the elevator down together to the first floor. Then we tossed the garbage bags into the collection box for the apartment building, which was off to the side of the bicycle storage room entryway. “Thanks for your help. See you around,” she said, lightly brushing her hands together as she looked my way. “Going out now?” “Yeah, just for a bit.” “Where to? Got some errands?” “Uh, well…” When I candidly answered that I was going to retrieve my toiletries, she responded, “Oh, well, you can use what I have at my place.” “Huh? But—” “I’ve got extra soap and an extra toothbrush set. And you can use my shampoo, too.” “But…” “It’s already after nine. I bet they go to bed early over there.” “Ah…” “Don’t be shy. We’re cousins, after all.” “—Mm.” The way we acting in the classroom and the way we were acting now—it was completely opposite. But that was appropriate, considering our relationship. The two of us were indeed related. Until the Akazawas took me in three autumns ago, we’d never had the opportunity to meet. But ever since then, we’d spent a fair amount of time together, since we were both around the same age…though this was the first year we’d been in class together. I wonder what I should call her during school? I pondered, but it was a little late for that. I guess I should use her family name. Calling her by her first name seems somehow wrong, even though I do it all the time normally… Though as a “non-exister,” I wasn’t in a position to speak to her then anyway. “How long have you been living in that room?” I asked as we rode the elevator back up. She tilted her head to the side as she thought. “Um…since the summer of our second year, I think.” “Why? There’s the penthouse upstairs.” “I’ve got my reasons. Plus, Mama and Papa usually give in to my selfish whims.” “Do you hate them or something?” “No, nothing like that.” Her prim expression softened somewhat as she glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “Living in my own space is easier because I don’t have to take anyone else into consideration. I mean, don’t you think so, too, Sou?” “Sure, I suppose.” “Besides, once I go to college or whatever, I’m going to kiss Yomiyama good-bye and start living alone. I’m kind of practicing for that while I’m still here…get it?” College, huh? I hadn’t even had the chance to think about those kinds of future questions at all. Getting out of this mess was my primary concern. I’ve got to make it there first… When we got back to the fifth floor, she quickly rushed into unit <E-1> and brought out what I needed. “Thanks,” I replied as I accepted them, and then— “Tomorrow’s the entrance ceremony, but…are you even going?” she asked, her expression suddenly serious. “I wasn’t planning to,” I answered. She nodded, still wearing a grim expression. “Yeah, there aren’t any classes yet, so not showing up is the right thing to do.” “Yeah.” “We’re supposed to select the class reps and everything during tomorrow’s homeroom, but I can fill you in later on what you need to know. After that, you can tell me if there’s anything you think will be a problem. Of course, that’s after classes are over and we come home, yeah? I’m sure it’s really tough, but since you’re a ‘non-exister,’ you’ve got to do it right…” “I know. I’m fine,” I snipped clearly, then stiffened my lip. “You won’t catch me speaking to anyone at school. Not even to my dear cousin.” “Good luck. We all have to do our best.” “Yeah. All right, thanks for these. I’ll bring the shampoo back later.” “Tomorrow’s fine. Good night.” “Night.” I walked to the entrance of my apartment, then turned back toward the elevator. I could see her silhouette on the other side of the lobby, about to shut the door. The lights that lined the corridor ceiling suddenly began to flicker. They stopped right away, only to be replaced by a low throbbing. The world went black, as if someone had turned out the lights. But an instant later, it ended, fast enough for me to forget it had ever happened. I stood there staring at the now-closed entrance to room <E-1>. I turned over everything I knew about her in my mind. She was my classmate in Grade 3 Class 3 at North Yomiyama Middle School, one of the countermeasures officers for this school year. She’s my cousin, and we’re the same age. In other words, she was the daughter of the second son of the Akazawa family, Natsuhiko, and his wife, Mayuko, who lived in the penthouse of this apartment building. Her name was Izumi—Izumi Akazawa.