Chapter 137

Chapter 5 April V 1 The third week of April—and the second week since the new semester began—passed without any incident. At least, that’s how it felt to me. With the cooperation of my classmates and teachers, I continued to solemnly play the part of a “non-exister.” Yuika Hazumi was also diligent about following my wishes and ignoring me during school, even though we had the same position. Initially, I was relieved about this. Hazumi also understood my line of thinking that it would be safer for “non-existers” to have as little contact with our classmates as possible outside of school. Or so I thought, but sometimes I would catch sight of her with other girls from Class 3 on the way to and from class, chatting like normal. Perhaps it was impractical for her to stick to “nonexistence” even outside of school. She called my cell phone a lot. Whenever she rang, I would tell her something like, “Let’s do our best to ensure the ‘countermeasures’ are successful,” to encourage her, but no more than that. I had a feeling that, in the long term, trying to force more stipulations and pressures on her would just end up backfiring. One Friday, at a slightly different time than when we’d met the day of the opening ceremony, I encountered Hazumi in the morning on the way to school—it was April 20. This time, we went down to the riverbank from the road that ran alongside the Yomiyama River, walking on the pedestrian path together for a while. As we walked, she spoke about herself bit by bit. Thanks to her parents’ occupations, there was often no one in the house when she came home from school. She wasn’t on particularly bad terms with them, but to make a long story short, they were pretty hands-off with their daughter. “To put it bluntly, they’re neglectful. But you know, I guess it’s easier that way.” After she said that, Hazumi flashed me a carefree smile, but I wondered how she really felt about it. If Mei Misaki had given me the same line, for instance, I’m sure I wouldn’t have doubted her at all. Hazumi told me she had a brother five years older than her. The year before, he’d graduated from high school and entered the law program at a university in Tokyo, so he was far from Yomiyama. His aspiration was to pass the bar exam and become a lawyer. He sounded like a hard worker. According to Hazumi, something about me reminded her of him, apparently… “Do you have any siblings, Sou?” I made a deliberate effort to answer indifferently. “I have a younger sister in elementary school. She’s at my mom’s house in Hinami.” I didn’t go out of my way to mention that she and I had different fathers or explain that she was the product of my mother’s second marriage. “What’s her name?” “Hmm?” “Your sister’s name?” “Ah…Mirei.” “Is she cute?” “…Not really.” Come to think of it…actually, I’d rather not dwell on that—I hadn’t seen Mirei’s face once since that summer three years ago. My mother, Tsukiho, had come to Yomiyama three times that I knew of during the two and a half years that I’d lived here, and she hadn’t ever brought my sister with her. “So you’re living in the same apartment building as Izumi Akazawa now, right?” Hazumi asked abruptly that Friday morning. “For the time being, I need to, yeah,” I answered without hesitation. “I’m planning to go back to my uncle’s place, where I was staying before.” “But you’re in the same building for now. I heard you both are on the same floor—is that true?” “Uh, yeah.” I wonder who she heard that from? Probably from someone she’s kept up a close friendship with outside of school. Or maybe… No, it doesn’t matter. That’s not really information I need to hide. “Does that mean you talk to her every day?” “Uh…I guess? I wouldn’t say it’s every day, but…” “Even though we’re better off avoiding contact with classmates as much as possible, even outside of school?” The moment she posed the question, I sensed a small prickle in her voice. “Izumi Akazawa is my cousin.” After I replied, I looked over at Hazumi, walking beside me. She was keeping her eyes straight forward. “Hmm,” she reacted in a tone that sounded deliberately cool, then continued. “Do you have any special feelings about her?” she asked. “Huh?” Surprised by her inquiry, I turned to her again. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I mean…you know.” Hazumi brushed back her chest-length hair with the hand that wasn’t holding her bag. “Do you like her? Do you dislike her?” “Ummm…if you’re going to put it that way, then I think my answer is that I ‘like’ her, but…” At that point, I’d caught on to why she was asking. To be honest, this was an area of weakness for me, in which I had a real dearth of experience. And my perspective at the moment was, I really thought that now wasn’t the time, so I quickly pushed those thoughts out of my mind. “But listen, I say I ‘like’ her, but Izumi is my cousin, okay? So I don’t mean anything weird by it.” I added that comment in an attempt to end the conversation there. But Hazumi wouldn’t let up. “Cousins can get married, you know,” she remarked. She continued looking straight ahead, just like before. And though it might have been my imagination, I thought I heard that small prickle in her voice again. Ah, geez… I tried not to let my distress show on my face or in my voice. I suck at this. Having this kind of conversation with a girl is a pretty big, no, enormous blind spot for me. I wonder how a normal guy in his third year of middle school would handle this. Like Yagisawa, for example. Or like Shunsuke Kouda (though he doesn’t seem like a great role model). Or like, yeah, like Koichi Sakakibara when he was in Grade 3… Pondering this resulted in a several-seconds-long, unnatural silence. Hazumi let out a slightly flustered “ah, um…,” stopped walking, and looked at me. Her cheeks were slightly red, and her eyes seemed a bit panicked. She had pretty, grown-up features, but her expression threw them out of balance, making her seem like a lost little girl. All right. Let’s keep going and transition away from this topic… I thought for a moment. “You know, Sou…” Hazumi gazed at me with dark eyes framed by long eyelashes. Her expression had completely transformed; now she was wearing an impish smile. Impish, but somehow more suited for her grown-up features. “When you volunteered to be the ‘non-exister,’ I—” “Oh, a kingfisher!” Just then, I shouted, interrupting Hazumi. Pointing, I took a step or two toward the bank. “Look, right there. It’s hovering.” It was just about in the middle of the river, slightly closer to our side. There, a bird was strenuously flapping its wings about three meters off the water’s surface. It had vivid lapis-blue wings, an orange breast, and a fairly long bill for its small body. Mm, that’s a kingfisher, no doubt about it. This is how it hunts for its underwater prey. This beautiful, nonmigratory bird, whose name was sometimes spelled with the Japanese character for jade, inhabited every region of the country, but this was my first time witnessing the spectacle of one hovering over this river in Yomiyama. Without thinking, I put together my thumbs and index fingers to form an imaginary viewfinder. Quietly pacing forward, I closed the imaginary shutter several times. “Aw, come on…,” I heard Hazumi say behind me. The kingfisher plunged into the water for a moment, then emerged triumphant, having captured its fishy prey. I expressed secret feelings of gratitude to him (probably a “him,” based on the color of the beak) as I clicked my imaginary shutter closed again and again. 2 The following day, Saturday, April 21, just before noon— I submitted a notice of absence to the school and went to visit the “clinic” at the municipal hospital. I had ended up canceling last week’s appointment and had been allowed to reschedule it for today, one week later. The clinic was located on the spacious general hospital campus, which took up practically the entire face of Yumigaoka Mountain. The section housing medical offices was in the front and had been undergoing major remodeling work since the previous year. Together with the adjacent inpatient ward, they comprised the “main building.” Behind it and a little separate stood a small, old structure, the “annex.” The department that I went to was in there. Currently, it was called the Psychoneurological Department, but I heard it had been simply known as the Psychiatric Ward until about ten years ago. I’m sure that the hospital had intended to place it somewhere where it wouldn’t be too conspicuous, since most of society had a vague prejudice against people suffering from mental illness. That deep-seated bias persisted even to this day, which was why Tsukiho always wanted to call this place the “clinic.” The words mental health clinic had a more acceptable connotation than psychoneurological department. Long ago, Tsukiho had lost her first husband—my father, that is—to suicide. I’d heard it described as a “death resulting from mental illness.” Additionally, there was the incident with Uncle Teruya three years ago. In that light, I imagined that she thought I was likely to do the same… Despite my blood relationship to both of them, however, I wasn’t that worried, myself. And yet— When I stood before the annex building, I did start feeling a little gloomy sometimes. It was an unadorned four-story building made of reinforced concrete. Iron bars lined all the tiny windows of the rooms above the second story. Ivy climbed a few sections of the dingy walls. It was obviously a dreary place, and it had a slightly eerie air. When I’d inquired about them, however, the staff told me that the rooms in the hospital annex weren’t currently being used to house psychiatric patients. Apparently, the facility had fallen too far into disrepair. Patients with serious illnesses, the ones who required restraining measures, had already been transferred to a new specialty ward in a different area. This whole structure was slated to be demolished in the near future. “Hello, Sou. You’re a third-year already, right?” I entered the examination room to find Dr. Usui, my attending physician, addressing me from across the room in his usual polite way. “Our last meeting was in early February, huh?” Looking over at my chart on the desk, he asked, “How are you doing? Has anything changed in the last two months or so?” This was the psychiatrist who I’d been seeing ever since coming to Yomiyama. He was probably a little under forty. He had the build of a judo athlete and a big, square face. Jet-black whiskers were growing around his mouth, on his cheeks, and on his chin. That made him look a little frightening at first glance, but his small eyes that were fixed on me always held a calm, gentle light. “Nothing has really changed. I don’t think I’m having any issues,” I answered. “Are you sleeping well at night?” “Yes.” “Without needing sleeping medication?” “Yes. I’m usually all right without taking any.” “And are you having nightmares?” “I’m… Sometimes.” “But the frequency has decreased compared to before, correct?” “Yes.” This doctor had examined me shortly before Tsukiho’s husband—my stepfather, Shuuji Hiratsuka—wrote a referral placing me into the Akazawas’ care. At that time, my mental condition had been unstable due to the shock from that incident three years ago. Though I was doing fine intellectually, the reality was that I was suffering certain symptoms. Insomnia. Nightmares. The anxiety, fear, confusion, and sense of helplessness that sometimes rushed in on me even when I was awake. The heart palpitations, sweating, and stifled breathing that accompanied those feelings. Post-traumatic stress disorder, PTSD. I didn’t really want to lump everything together under that title, but even though I’d voiced my objection, Dr. Usui had still handed down the diagnosis. However, since my condition wasn’t as serious as it sounded, there was no need to be overly worried. I remembered him telling me: “The most important thing is that you’re the one who will be responsible for your own recovery, Sou. I’m just here to help you out a little bit.” Considering my stepfather had introduced me to him, I was initially wary of Dr. Usui. But gradually, we’d been able to develop a relationship that made me feel as if I could trust him…and as a result, my symptoms greatly improved after about a year. He’d prescribed me various medications in the beginning as well, but now I was mostly able to get by without them. “Have you had any contact with your mother lately?” the doctor said. He asked this question whenever we met, but each time, I was fully aware that my response wasn’t positive in the slightest. “Not much. Once at the start of the month.” “By phone?” “Yes.” “Did you have a proper conversation?” “No. I just listened to the message she left.” “Have you called her?” “I haven’t.” “You don’t want to speak to her?” “Yeah…that’s right. Not really…” “You don’t want to see her, either?” “…………” “Do you actually want to see her?” “…………” “You can say what you’re really feeling here, Sou.” “I don’t know.” “Is that so? Hmm.” The doctor blinked his small eyes and gave another “mm-hmm.” Then he said, “I am also aware, generally, of the special circumstances of the Hiratsuka household. Considering your position, it’s no wonder you have complicated feelings about your mother. Try not to worry too much over the presence of those feelings themselves. All right?” I nodded obediently. “All right.” 3 Apparently, I was Dr. Usui’s last patient for the day. When I left the examination room, there was no one else in the waiting area. “Here you go.” Ms. Kikuchi, a nurse who I recognized, handed me some documents to submit at the cashier window. Just as she did, a small figure tried to slip past me, headed for the door of the examination room. Startled, I took another glance and saw it was a very young child. An elementary schooler, probably in a lower grade. She had bobbed hair and was wearing a uniform and a backpack—from the color, I assumed she was a girl. After spinning around to say “hello” to me in a small voice, she opened the exam room door without knocking, then disappeared inside. “That’s Dr. Usui’s daughter,” Ms. Kikuchi told me, seeing my confusion. She let out a low chuckle. “She always stops by here when she’s on her way home from school on Saturday. They eat lunch together, and then she drags him home. Is this the first time you’ve met her, Sou?” “Uh, yes,” I answered, imagining Dr. Usui’s hairy face wrinkling up in a huge smile the second his daughter entered the room. “They must be very close, huh?” “Her mother passed away young,” Ms. Kikuchi told me, lowering her voice a little. “He’s been a single father ever since. It’s just adorable to see the doctor with her. And she’s actually quite clever and cute, too…” Later, I would learn that the girl’s name was Kiha. She attended the second grade at a nearby public elementary school. 4 It had been overcast since morning that day, and as I left the hospital annex, rain started pouring. Normally, I would have gone around to the front entrance from outside to get to the first-floor lobby in the medical offices building, where the cashier’s window was located. This time, however, I walked down the connecting passage (that is to say, a walkway with a roof and walls) to avoid the rain and entered the main hospital building from the back. The primary building and the annex were connected by a similar sky bridge on the third floor as well. As I walked slowly down the mazelike hallways, a result of the many piecemeal expansions made to the hospital over the years, a thought occurred to me. Come to think of it, Koichi Sakakibara was hospitalized around this time three years ago, wasn’t he? I’d heard that it happened not long after he moved here from Tokyo. The night before he was supposed to start school at North Yomi as a transfer student, he’d had a sudden onset of spontaneous pneumothorax and had been hospitalized. What a miserable experience. He seemed totally healthy by the time I got to know him, but it was crazy to think that a hole had once opened in one of his lungs and caused it to collapse. I could only imagine the fear and pain he’d felt at the time. I wonder where in this hospital his sick room was… I was idling down the corridor, glancing here and there at my surroundings. Just then— With a low, reverberating thud, the world went pitch-black for a second. But it was really only a second. Suddenly, a fact related to my previous thought surfaced from my memory. Speaking of “hospitalization,” there’s a student who has been on leave from school since the start of the month due to illness. Come to think of it, they’re in Class 3. I don’t know all the details, but I heard that they needed to be hospitalized for a while, so coming to school would be difficult—now, when did I hear that? Oh yeah, I think it was from Izumi. That student—her name was something like Makino or Makise, maybe… When I finally made it to the lobby of the medical offices building, the cell phone inside my jacket buzzed with a call. The first face that appeared in my mind’s eye was Hazumi’s. She’s probably concerned about the conversation we had when we met up yesterday. The second option, though I doubted it would be her, was Mei Misaki… Or so I’d thought, but— I looked at the display and gasped. The call was coming from Tsukiho. Naturally, I remembered my earlier conversation with Dr. Usui, and despite some trepidation, I pressed the answer button this time around. “Ah…Sou?” This was the first time I’d heard my mother’s voice in a long while. Before she could continue speaking, I said, “I’m doing just fine. And I’m going to the clinic regularly.” “—I’m sorry, Sou.” “Don’t apologize. It’s fine.” “But really, you know, I want to be there for you…” “The Akazawas are doing a great job. I’m all right as is.” “Ah…but…” “Don’t worry.” “…………” “Bye, then. I’m hanging up.” I really was going to stop the conversation like this, but when I said so, Tsukiho blurted out, “I’m coming to see you next month,” as if trying to keep me from stopping. Then she continued. “I haven’t seen your face in so long, and I need to give my regards to Sayuri and her husband…so it’s set, next month.” That’s really okay—you don’t need to come. I was about to reject the idea right then and there, but I paused briefly and recalled Dr. Usui’s words from earlier. “It’s no wonder you have complicated feelings about your mother.” “Mm.” After another short pause, I answered briefly, “Got it. See you.” I hung up, and after I had completed my payment at the cashier’s window in the lobby, I left the hospital, still unable to shake my sense of gloom and uncertainty. Nevertheless, I passed through the automatic doors in the front entrance, stopping to look at the rain that was still coming down. “Well then.” Suddenly, my eyes came to rest on the figure of a middle-aged woman, holding her semitransparent plastic umbrella closed as she entered the hospital with a sluggish gait. Taken aback, I tried to get another look at her face, but when I turned around, all I saw was her back. However— She didn’t seem to notice me, but was that… …Kirika? “Kirika” was the pseudonym that she used as a doll maker. Her real name was apparently Yukiyo—Yukiyo Misaki. Mei’s mother. She must have come here because she was feeling unwell. I’d been able to see her for only a moment, but somehow, I could tell that she wasn’t in great shape… I was curious, but we weren’t on close-enough terms for me to run after her and confirm. On Sunday, I’d gone to the “Blue Eyes…” gallery and seen Mei Misaki for the first time in two months. For some reason, the image of her with her left eye covered by an eye patch as it had been before came to my mind. A sense of vague apprehension, the true character of which I couldn’t place, gradually spread through me… I stepped out alone into the unceasing downpour. 5 It had been about two weeks since I started sleeping in unit <E-9> of the Freuden Tobii— Before my move, we decided that I would stop by the Akazawa house for breakfast each morning and then continue to school. Auntie Sayuri was always fussing over me, just as she had from the start. She would ask things like, “Are you sure you’re not lonely up there by yourself?” Each and every day, she also had a lunch box for me, ready to go. On my way back from school, I usually returned to my room in the apartment building first, then went to the Akazawas’ in time for dinner. When I went over, I took my laundry with me. You could hardly call this lifestyle “independent living.” The renovation work on the house had begun. I heard it was progressing slower than they’d planned, but in spite of that, a section of the old wooden house had already been demolished and was now covered in blue tarps. The room I’d been using before moving into the apartment had been converted into a storage space for all the furniture and stuff that would be in the way during the project. Most of the construction noise happens during the day on weekdays, so there isn’t really a need for me to go to the trouble of “escaping” to the apartment, is there? Or at least that’s what I’d thought when I’d first heard about it. Now that construction was underway, however, I could see that it was actually making the whole place feel unsettled. Since I would be preparing for high school this year, I was grateful that my aunt and the rest of the family had been so considerate by insisting that I move out. Once, when the end of the fourth week in April was drawing near, I encountered Izumi in the primary Akazawa house. She was there to visit our grandfather, Hiromune Akazawa, together with her mother, Mayuko. I just happened to be there at the same time. Grandfather’s health had been poor since the end of last year. He was seventy-eight years old and had seemed healthy and energetic for his age, but one day he carelessly took a fall down the stairs. Though his injuries weren’t life-threatening, he did break his right leg and hip. After being hospitalized for a little over a month, he’d stubbornly refused a transfer to a rehabilitation hospital, instead opting to recuperate at home. Apparently, he hated the hospital so much, he couldn’t stand it any longer; just being there sapped his willpower to grapple with rehabilitation. As a result of his obstinance, however, his broken bones were slow to recover, especially his hip… Since he still couldn’t get up by himself and walk around, he spent most of his time sleeping. That held true even now. The doctor’s verdict was that if things continued as they were, he would probably need to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair. At that point— The Akazawas had decided to take advantage of the situation to remodel their old home, which originally had many different levels, narrow doorways, and so on. “Grandpa doesn’t seem to be in a very good mood, of course,” Izumi whispered in my ear. She had come out alone from the tatami room in the back where he was staying, leaving Auntie Sayuri and her mother, Mayuko, behind, to find me alone in the front sitting room… That’s what was going on. “He sees his granddaughter’s face for the first time in ages and just asks, ‘What are you doing here?’ Can you believe it? Don’t you think that’s awful?” “Sure…yeah.” “He’s never really liked me, has he?” Izumi frowned, revealing a somewhat lonely expression. “He was always worrying about my big brother, but he was cold toward me, or at least not very interested or whatever.” “I wonder if he didn’t know how to handle girls?” I made a timid attempt at backing up our grandfather, but Izumi kept frowning and didn’t say anything in response. Sighing, she gulped down some tea from one of the bottles that had been set out on the table. Our grandfather was certainly difficult to please. And it seemed like that quality had been intensifying ever since he’d broken those bones, to the point that it made me suspect he might be going a little senile. Auntie Sayuri had been taking care of him without complaint, but Mayuko rarely showed her face in the house, despite living close by. She was probably just as fed up with him as Izumi. Personally, I’d never gotten that bad of an impression of our grandfather. I’d first met him when the Akazawas took me in two and a half years earlier. Back then, he’d fixed his gaze on me, then said softly, “Sou…you’re Fuyuhiko’s boy?” The look in his eyes as he spoke to me had seemed both achingly sad and also kind. I hadn’t heard much from him since then, but I’m sure that his heart was still full of grief and longing for his third son, who’d passed away young, ahead of his own father. When he gazed at my face, those feelings had naturally begun to pour out… At least, that’s what I imagined was going on. Anyway, as far as I knew, for as long as I could remember, that was a “look” that I couldn’t recall experiencing much before. The black cat, Kurosuke, padded into the sitting room and jumped right up onto Izumi’s lap, even though he almost never did that for me. Not at all annoyed, Izumi stroked his back as she asked in a lowered voice, “Hey, Sou? There’s something I want to talk to you about later, okay?” “Something…about class?” “Mm-hmm.” “Is there a…problem?” “Kind of… Have you been talking to Hazumi lately?” “Ah…a little,” I answered vaguely. “How’s she doing? From your perspective.” “Ummm…well—” As I was struggling to respond, Sayuri and Mayuko came into the sitting room, interrupting our conversation. Izumi leaned forward over the table. “Anyway, we’ll talk later,” she whispered, bringing her face close to my ear. It was April 27, a Friday. The following day would be the 28th, the fourth Saturday of the month. It was both a school holiday and the first day of a three-day break, which included the 29th and 30th. But the night before the break, something happened. 6 WOULD YOU COME OVER HERE FOR A CHANGE? AROUND TEN O’CLOCK OR SO. When I got back to the Freuden Tobii after dinner, I found a memo stuck to the door of my apartment. It was in Izumi’s handwriting. She had her own room, unit <E-1> on the fifth level, same floor as me. But as far as I could remember, I’d never come over to her place before, even though she’d done the opposite plenty of times. Despite the fact that she was my cousin, she was still a girl, so…I remained quite hesitant, but I figured it would probably be all right. I waited until the designated time, then rang the doorbell of apartment <E-1>. “Coming!” I heard Izumi answer. She must have just gotten out of the shower or bath, because her hair was still damp, and I caught a faint whiff of the shampoo I’d borrowed on my second night after moving up here. She had also changed out of her uniform into a sweatshirt and track pants. “Come on in.” Her apartment was a one-bedroom, more spacious than my own. Atop the built-in counter between the kitchen and living room sat a coffee maker, bubbling as it brewed. The scent of shampoo dissolved and disappeared into the fragrance of coffee that hung in the air. She led me into the living room and offered me a seat on the sofa and, shortly after, a cup of coffee. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” I accepted sincerely, adding milk and sugar before taking a sip. Izumi left hers black and slurped up a mouthful. “Mm-hmm.” She nodded, looking pleased. “These seem like really good beans.” “You know about coffee?” “A little, thanks to my brother’s influence,” she answered. Izumi looked toward the kitchen. “I used to have his favorite blend, but the bag got really old. This is a Hawaiian Kona coffee that I just got yesterday. It’s really high-grade.” I’m generally pretty indifferent to the flavor of most drinks and food, not just coffee, so I responded with a noncommittal “Wow” and glanced around the room. It was plainer than I’d imagined for a third-grade middle school girl’s room and didn’t feel very welcoming. I couldn’t see many furnishings or decorations that looked particularly girlie. The rugs spread on the floor were plain white, and the windows were covered with cream blinds instead of curtains. Next to one of them was a display case with a glass door, the contents of which caught my eye. There appeared to be quite a lot of dinosaur figurines lined up inside. Hmm? I didn’t know she was interested in that sort of thing. “Through there is the piano room,” Izumi told me. “It’s been soundproofed, so I can play at night, no problem.” “Amazing. You’re a real musician!” “They’ve been making me take lessons since I was little, so I guess I’m pretty good… At least, that was my excuse so I could get them to build me a piano room and have my own space.” Hmm. How luxurious. Izumi had lamented to me that her parents treated only her brother like “something special,” but she seemed to do pretty well for herself otherwise. Once, she’d told me that “Mama and Papa usually give in to my selfish whims.” Surprisingly, this seemed to be a source of stress, dissatisfaction, or some other negative emotion more than anything else for her. I had all these thoughts and more, of course, but I didn’t let them out of my mouth. “Are you trying to become a pianist or something in the future?” I asked. “No, no,” Izumi answered, forcing a smile, “I actually haven’t done much with it lately. I went to play for the first time in a while the other day, and it was all out of tune.” “Huh…” “I’ve ended up using that room more for practicing my lines for drama club, I think.” “Uh-huh.” Barely reacting, I drained my coffee cup. Izumi asked me if I wanted another, but I declined. She poured herself a second cup from the pot, then finally— “To get back to our earlier conversation,” she said, broaching the real issue at hand. “How has Hazumi been doing lately? From your perspective.” 7 “That’s…” Unexpectedly, I found myself at a loss for words at the moment. Since our encounter on the bank of the Yomiyama River the week before, Hazumi and I hadn’t had any opportunity to get together again like that… No, it would be more honest to say that I’d been doing my best to avoid any more of those encounters. We’d spoken twice on the phone, but it had been nothing more than some harmless small talk. “I’d say not much has changed. I guess she’s probably doing all right,” I answered, leaving out any detailed account of the situation. When I saw her in class, at least, Hazumi continued to flawlessly play the role of the “non-exister” that she’d been assigned. And she didn’t approach or address me during school, either… “I don’t think she’s having any issues.” But Izumi mumbled, “Oh?” in a somewhat depressed-sounding voice, before sipping her second cup of coffee. Then she looked up sharply and remarked, “As countermeasures officer, I observe the state of the class every day…and I think that April has gone pretty well. There are three days left, but school is on break. I think you and Hazumi are behaving as you should, and all our classmates and teachers are handling it suitably.” She was right—the “countermeasures” did seem to be going smoothly. The proof of this was that the end of the month was now approaching without a single “accident.” “However—” Izumi continued. “Just today, I overheard something a little concerning. I thought I’d better let you in on it, too.” What could it be? From the way our conversation was heading, I could surmise that it was something to do with Hazumi. “I didn’t really know Hazumi until we started our third year,” Izumi said, “so I’m not too familiar with her personality, you know? Because of that, I haven’t decided yet how worried I should be about this.” “About something to do with her?” It sounded like some kind of problem had arisen in the one place I wasn’t looking. “It sounds like Hazumi has a number of good friends. She’s diligently playing the part of a ‘non-exister’ during class, but outside of it…and on the way to and from school, she’s been chatting normally with them.” “Ah, that…yeah. I did tell her to be careful, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to say that it was absolutely off-limits.” “I thought as much.” Izumi nodded. “But you know,” she added, “that in and of itself isn’t an issue. I’m sure that it’s really difficult ‘not existing’ the whole time we’re in class, so I’m glad she has friends to spend time with outside of school. I get that; normally I’d have no reason to blame her. But you know, I learned something from Tsugunaga just today.” Tsugunaga…that girl who’s a class rep, right? What on earth does she know? “First, you need to know that Shimamura apparently got injured this past Monday.” Shimamura was one of the girls in our class who Hazumi was friends with. “Tsugunaga told me that on the way home from school, Shimamura was walking with Hazumi and another girl named Kusakabe. As the three of them headed down the sidewalk together, a bicycle charged into them from behind and collided with Shimamura.” “And she was injured? Was it very bad?” “Her knees and arms got scraped, and she got an awful nosebleed from falling into the ground. The blood wouldn’t stop for a while, which cause a ruckus.” “Who was riding the bicycle?” “A middle-aged man, apparently. And he didn’t apologize; he just kept riding off.” “So it was a malicious hit-and-run, huh?” “That was the end of the incident with Shimamura, but—” After a short pause, Izumi started up again. “The next day, Kusakabe—” “Did she get hurt, too, or something?” I asked, anticipating the next part of the story in spite of myself, but Izumi shook her head side to side. “This time, it wasn’t an injury…” Tuesday—on the evening of the 14th, Hazumi had rang up Kusakabe. The two of them had a long chat about nothing, like usual. However— In the middle of their conversation, an unexpected incident occurred. Kusakabe’s great-grandmother, who was living with her and her parents, collapsed in a fit of poor health and had to receive emergency ambulance transport to the hospital. “That means…” As I listened to Izumi’s explanation, I frowned hard. “Did she, by any chance…die?” I asked fearfully. “Kusakabe’s great-grandmother, I mean.” “She was fine, apparently,” Izumi answered. “She recovered without difficulty and didn’t even need to be hospitalized. But—” Izumi leaned back against the sofa and listlessly brushed her bangs away, resting her hand on her forehead. She looked like she was checking herself for a fever. “Tsugunaga told me that since those things happened in quick succession, Shimamura and Kusakabe are scared.” “Scared?” “Because both incidents were connected to Hazumi. In Shimamura’s case, she was with her, and in Kusakabe’s, she was on the phone with her…” …So what does it all mean? When I thought about it, I vaguely clued in to the point Izumi was making. In other words… Ah, but that would mean… “In other words, Sou, Hazumi is the object of their ‘fear,’” Izumi said, voicing the answer I’d been imagining. “They’re thinking that it’s a bad idea to have close contact with her even outside of school, as long as she’s a ‘non-exister.’ That she might be the cause of Shimamura’s injuries and Kusakabe’s great-grandmother’s collapse… They’re convinced that these incidents might be precursors to the ‘calamity.’” 8 “That’s completely unfounded,” I grumbled, feeling half irritated, half exasperated. “I’ve never heard anything about there being a ‘precursor’ or whatever to the ‘accidents.’” Shimamura had simply been unlucky to get hit by a bicycle. And in Kusakabe’s case, she and her great-grandmother were related in the third degree. Only “blood relatives within two degrees” were in danger of suffering “accidents,” so a great-grandmother was out of range. And even if she had died when she arrived at the hospital, it would have to be considered an unfortunate coincidence that was ultimately unconnected to the “calamity.” As a countermeasures officer, of course, Izumi had a good grasp on the rules governing the “accidents.” There was no reason for me to explain them to her again. “I said the very same thing. I told her neither incident had anything to do with the ‘calamity.’” She put her hand on her forehead again and kept speaking. “That Tsugunaga, though, she’s got her own ideas, and she’s much more high-strung about all this than the others, so she gave me a hard time no matter what I tried to tell her. But she did seem to understand me somewhat. The ones I’m really worried about are Shimamura and Kusakabe.” “What do you mean?” “According to Tsugunaga, both of them are going to avoid Hazumi from now on. Apparently, they feel that it would be best to avoid getting near her, even outside of school, and not to call her… They think it’s dangerous to be friends with her. I don’t know if Hazumi has realized it yet, but when she finds out, I think she’ll be shocked.” “Ah…” “So if this particular set of circumstances means that she ends up isolated, that would be bad, right? I don’t think she’s strong like you, Sou.” When she said that, I reflexively blurted out, “Strong? Me?” The bewildered question just rushed out of my mouth. It was the first time anyone had ever called me strong. “That’s how you seem to me.” Setting my objection aside as if it was nothing, Izumi sat up straight and fixed her gaze on me. “So,” she continued, “somehow or other, I think I’ve got to stop the rumor from spreading that being friendly with Hazumi is dangerous. I’ve got to remind everyone that there are principles governing the ‘accidents’ and that as long as we follow the rules properly, we’ll be fine. I’m getting help from the other countermeasures officers, Etou and Tajimi, as well as Yagisawa and his buddies for this.” “Mm.” “If Hazumi really does end up isolated, and if she says she’s quitting being a ‘non-exister,’ all the countermeasures we’ve worked so hard to put in place will be for nothing—right?” Izumi’s expression and way of speaking were serious from beginning to end. I recalled Mei Misaki’s contrasting take—that even if Hazumi was to give up her role, as long as I diligently continued to “not exist,” then there shouldn’t be a problem. But of course, there could be no better option than to continue with the “countermeasures” as originally planned, if possible. That seemed like the best bet. “That’s why, Sou,” Izumi insisted, still staring into my face, “I think if you could have some sort of talk with Hazumi about this, make sure she’s not suffering too much or getting desperate…” “Calm her down carefully, is that it?” “Yeah. That’s what I mean.” “Got it.” I answered obediently, but at that moment, something was making me feel uneasy. Hazumi had called my cell phone the night before, but I hadn’t called her back. I’d figured that I hadn’t needed to, since she hadn’t left a voice mail. “Hey, can I ask you something?” After wavering over what to do for a minute, I went for it. “About Hazumi, um…I wonder what she thinks? About me?” “Huh?” Izumi tilted her head in confusion but soon seemed to catch my meaning. “Ah, that?” She nodded, looking unconcerned. “Well, let’s see, I’ve had my suspicions from the very beginning, of course.” “Suspicions?” “And Yagisawa said something about it the other day, didn’t he? I mean, anyone can see it. She likes you, Sou.” Well, when you just say it right out loud like that… The only thing I could think was: What am I gonna do? I don’t really dislike her or think she’s irritating or anything, but… How do I put this? Honestly, I think this isn’t the time for that kind of stuff. “Did she happen to confess to you or something?” Izumi asked with a much more casual expression this time. “Ah, no, nothing like that,” I answered, unintentionally averting my gaze from her eyes, which were still locked on to me. “Hmm.” Izumi crossed her arms. “And what about you?” “Uh—” “Hazumi’s pretty…right? She’s not bad-looking at all, is she?” “—I don’t really think so,” I answered truthfully. “So do you dislike her, then?” “—Not really.” “So you mean you don’t really care either way?” “Yeah, I guess so.” When it came to romantic feelings, to the question of liking or disliking the girls around me, I still didn’t have any real interest one way or another. I think I probably also had less of a desire to have those emotions than the average person. Naturally, this meant I was a completely ignorant third-grade middle school boy about the finer points of this subject, so… Narrowing her eyes at me as I awkwardly fumbled to explain as much, Izumi nodded. “Mm-hmm.” Then she pulled both feet up on the sofa and sat cross-legged, tossing her long hair behind her back with both hands. “In that case, it’s best not to let it weigh on you too much, right?” she said plainly. “It’s a special situation, but I don’t think it would come to anything good if you were to, for example, try to force yourself to match your feelings to hers.” 9 The remaining three days of April passed without incident. As far as I knew, at least. During that time, I went over to the library in Daybreak Forest once; then I spent the rest of the days not really venturing out, except to go between the Freuden Tobii and the Akazawa house. With the exception of Izumi, who lived in the same apartment building as I did, I didn’t meet up with any of my classmates. I was nearly a shut-in, reading alone by myself. I was seized by the idea that I should just stay like this and skip the rest of the school year. My condition had improved greatly since coming to Yomiyama, but I still wasn’t the kind of person who had much energy for dealing with other people. I knew that if I searched the depths of my heart, I would find hidden in there a very real desire to abandon everything and run away. What if I use Golden Week as an opportunity to escape from this place? Even that thought had flashed through my mind. Despite the fact that I would have nowhere to go and no place to stay after my breakout. Though we didn’t meet in person, I did talk to Yagisawa once on the phone. “Hey, Sou! You feeling good? You must be, right?” He spoke as carelessly as ever. “April’s almost over, but starting next month, man, we’ve really got to give it our all!” “Yeah, guess so,” I answered. Without delay, Yagisawa continued. “If the loneliness of ‘nonexistence’ ever gets you down, you can come flying into my open arms anytime. As long as it’s after school, there’s no problem, right? If you want, we could even start a band together.” “Huh?” “Can you play any instruments, Sou? If you can’t, let’s see…how about practicing percussion or something? You can start with a tambourine or castanets!” “I’ll pass, thanks.” “Oh, really? But I think it would be better for your mental health than just holing yourself up and reading books.” I knew that Yagisawa was, in his own way, expressing his concern for me and how I felt having to remain silent and invisible in class every day. And though I was grateful for his consideration on the one hand, on the other, I felt like it was really none of his business… I started to grow a little annoyed. I didn’t get a single call from Hazumi for the rest of the break. What Izumi had told me was weighing on my mind, but in the end, I didn’t reach out to Hazumi, either. And then, on the 30th, the night of the last day of April— A little after ten o’clock, when I booted up my laptop on my living room table, I found three new e-mails. The first one was from Shunsuke Kouda. As usual, it was a report on several things going on with the biology club. The week before, three first-years had come by wanting to join the club. Two boys and a girl. The e-mail said that these new members were key personnel who would carry the club into the future, so if I happened to meet them in the clubroom, I should treat them kindly and politely… Why is he going out of his way to give me instructions like that? I wondered. They had also started keeping a new axolotl in the clubroom, a male, as a successor to Woo after his recent passing. One of the new club members had brought him in, and against all odds, the new creature’s name just happened to also be “Woo.” Shunsuke was planning to go to the clubroom every day, even during Golden Week. He closed his e-mail with an invitation: “Come along with me if you feel up to it, Sou.” The second e-mail was from Mei Misaki. It was the first e-mail I’d gotten from her since the opening ceremony. I recognized her sender name, “Mei M.,” and opened the e-mail, my heartbeat picking up as I did— LOOKS LIKE APRIL IS GOING TO END WITHOUT INCIDENT. HOPE IT GOES WELL NEXT MONTH, TOO. Her message was short and to the point as usual, but it did give me a sense of modest relief as well. When I sighed and closed my eyes, the image of Mei wearing her eye patch, exactly as she had looked long ago, floated up before me. Come to think of it, when I had seen her two weeks ago at the “Blue Eyes…” gallery, she had asked me something: “Someday soon, could I come visit your place?” I wonder if she was serious about that? Probably just one of those off-the-cuff things. The third e-mail was another Yomiyama Town News e-mail newsletter. Those were normally sent out twice a month, and the second one for April had already come the previous week. The one today was garnished with a subheading that read, “GW Special Edition.” And yet, the content of the periodical was the same stuff as always. A report on a minor “discovery” from a writer who had an interest in researching local history. A column offering miscellaneous tidbits about the “festival” part of the Boys’ Day celebration coming up on the 5th of May. Plus, announcements about various events being held here and there around Yomiyama during the Golden Week holidays. There would be a charity bazaar in Daybreak Forest Park, a used-book fair in the plaza in front of town hall, a public goodwill concert being held somewhere or other, and so on… I skimmed through it briefly, but none of the articles especially caught my interest. Except— At the end of the periodical, there was a section in small type titled, “News from the Editorial Department,” which made an addendum. I read it, thinking nothing of it, and, without meaning to, let out an audible “huh?” But at the time, I didn’t pay any further attention to it. JUST PRIOR TO THE PUBLICATION OF THIS SPECIAL EDITION, WE RECEIVED A LAST-MINUTE OBITUARY NOTICE. WE PRAY FOR THE PEACEFUL REPOSE OF MR. TAKAYUKI NAKAGAWA.