Chapter 7 May II 1 “So your ‘countermeasures’ called for two ‘non-existers’ this time… I see…” First floor, Building Zero. The school’s old library, which had been demoted to “secondary” status after the completion of the “primary” library in the newer Building A. “I can’t decide if there’s any point to that or not.” Mr. Chibiki sighed, winding a lock of his unkempt graying hair around a finger. The gloomy space was tightly packed with documents on local history, rare books donated by former students, and volumes that had been culled from the main collection in the “primary” library. On the other side of the long desk that occupied a back corner of the room sat the “master” of the secondary library, dressed in black from head to toe as always. “If anyone had consulted me about it ahead of time, I doubt I would have actively supported the idea.” “Is that so? Um…” Shaking off the dread inside me, I asked, “Why do you say that?” “Because I’m well aware of how it all turned out three years ago,” he answered, scrutinizing me from behind his blackish-green glasses. “Ms. Kanbayashi had nothing to do with Grade 3 Class 3 that year. I’m sure she doesn’t know all the details.” “But…ummm…” “Three years ago—in 1998, Class 3 also tried making two people ‘not exist.’ That’s indisputable. But it’s impossible to judge whether that was a success in the end.” During our “strategy session” in March, the teachers had also told us that it was unclear whether the “additional countermeasure” had actually made a difference or not. But back then, nobody had put it quite so bluntly. “That year, first of all, Misaki… But you know this already, right? She accepted the role of the ‘non-exister,’ but…” “Yes. But despite that, there were some unforeseen complications, so the ‘accidents’ started happening. And then, in a last-ditch effort, they added the ‘additional countermeasure.’” “That’s right. In May, a student transferred in from Tokyo… Actually, I believe you’re acquainted with him, too?” “You mean Sakakibara, right? Yes, Mei introduced me to him, kind of.” “When he came in, no one informed him of the special circumstances of Class 3. Ignorant of Misaki’s role, he interacted with her during school, and…to make a long story short, that was the ‘unexpected complication’ that kicked everything off. Most people think it was probably because of their interaction that the ‘countermeasures’ were invalidated and the ‘accidents’ began.” Mr. Chibiki placed his hand against his forehead, as though the explanation had exhausted him. Up until now, I’d heard of this only in vague terms… I see, so that’s what happened? “Then the rest of the class had a meeting about whether there was anything they could do about the ‘accidents’ once they had started and decided to make Sakakibara into a second ‘non-exister.’ But despite that, the ‘accidents’ that year continued, so…” Right, Mei told me the same thing. She also said there wasn’t much of a point to adding a second “non-exister” to this year’s “countermeasures.” “But didn’t the ‘calamity’ stop halfway through the year three years ago?” “Stop…mm. But the thing is, it stopped that year after we’d already given up on the ‘countermeasures’ that depended on the ‘non-existers.’ That was later on.” “Why?” I had to ask. “Why did it stop?” “Well now. I wonder.” For some reason, Mr. Chibiki turned anxious and shook his head several times. I couldn’t tell whether that meant he didn’t know or that he knew but couldn’t tell me. “So…” I changed the question. “In your opinion, do this year’s ‘countermeasures’ not make any sense?” “I told you, it’s impossible to tell.” Mr. Chibiki wrapped another piece of hair around his finger. “That’s how it worked out last time, but this time, the circumstances are different. As far as I know, there’s no precedent for trying to have two ‘non-existers’ from the start of the first semester. As to whether it’s completely meaningless or whether it has made any difference—I can’t say just yet.” 2 May 8, Tuesday. I’d skipped fourth period music class and gone to visit the secondary library alone. I’d actually intended to go during lunch the day before, but there’d been that big uproar during third period, so it was out of the question. This morning’s homeroom hadn’t been with Ms. Kanbayashi. Instead, we were supervised by Mr. Miyamoto, the PE teacher. Until her older brother’s wake and funeral service were over, Ms. Kanbayashi would be on leave from school. The news of her brother Joukichi Kanbayashi’s passing had circulated the night before (according to Izumi), so most of the students knew by now. Those who didn’t know all gasped at Mr. Miyamoto’s announcement. And then an uncomfortable silence descended over us… …In the quiet classroom, students glanced around at one another with uneasy eyes. Occasionally, someone’s gaze would come my way, but as the “non-exister,” I had to be thorough about ignoring them. The windowpane that had been smashed open during yesterday’s hailstorm was covered up with cardboard as a temporary measure. As for the fluorescent lights the crow had broken, they’d already been replaced with new ones. And— Yuika Hazumi was absent from her seat in the back of the row closest to the windows looking out onto the schoolyard. She hadn’t returned since yesterday’s commotion. I was concerned about her and had tried calling her cell phone several times the previous evening, but she hadn’t answered once, so…I anticipated that she probably wouldn’t be coming to school today. She might not be back for a little while. Now that I think about the way she acted yesterday, today’s absence was probably inevitable. 3 I had become very well acquainted with Mr. Chibiki in the two years and change since I’d started at North Yomi. Mei had told me about him originally, calling him an “observer of the ‘phenomenon.’” She’d also advised me to listen to what he had to say. And so— Since my first year, I’d taken every opportunity to slip off to the secondary library. I hardly ever borrowed books or read anything there, but we would always exchange a few words whenever I dropped by. He’d been the head teacher for Grade 3 Class 3 twenty-nine years ago, when the aforementioned student, Misaki Yomiyama, had died. Mr. Chibiki had been working at the school as a social studies teacher at the time, another fact I eventually heard from the man himself. Generally, he would also answer whatever questions I had about the “phenomenon” and the “accidents,” though he didn’t volunteer much, and he certainly wasn’t very talkative. So actually, I wished I had been able to meet with Mr. Chibiki earlier than I did. Maybe in late March, when I found out I would be in Class 3, or after we had decided on this year’s “countermeasures” at the “strategy session.” It would have been nice if I could have seen him and gotten his opinion as an “observer.” However— The last time I saw his face was at the end of the previous school year, and he hadn’t come to school at all since the start of the new year. It had been easy to look up his contact information in the faculty roster, but I had hesitated to phone him without warning… I wonder what kind of “personal affairs” would make him absent for so long? I hesitated to ask that today as well. I was concerned about the fact that his face looked much more haggard than ever before and that his voice and affect seemed to lack any spirit. But it wasn’t my place to say anything… “…Mr. Chibiki, what do you think about the series of events yesterday?” I launched right into the issue at hand. At this hour, there was of course nobody but the two of us here in the library room. “There was such a big uproar in the classroom…and then Ms. Kanbayashi’s brother passed away. Do you think the ‘calamity’ has started?” On the other side of the counter, Mr. Chibiki made a low “hmm…” as he stroked his chin where he’d grown a sparse beard. “It’s hard to know how we should react to it all,” he answered carefully, “but one of the two ‘non-existers’…Hazumi was her name, right? She raised her voice in front of everyone during third period yesterday, didn’t she? She announced that she existed. In other words, she abdicated her position.” “That’s right.” “I can’t be a ‘non-exister’ anymore!” The sound of her ranting from the day before rang in my ears. “I exist! I’m not the ‘casualty’ or anything like that. I…” It had been like an explosion of built-up emotions. I could easily imagine the thought process that had gotten her to that point. When I imagined what was going through her mind, I felt responsible to some extent, and my chest began to hurt. But even more important than that was the question of understanding the present situation and gaining insight into what was to come… I wonder if thinking that makes me a coldhearted person? I bet it would seem like that to, say, Yagisawa. “Hazumi quit being a ‘non-exister.’ Immediately afterward, hail began to fall. The classroom descended into disarray when the windowpane broke, and a crow flew in and caused a scene. Multiple people were injured.” “Yes,” I replied. “And yet, no one lost their life during all that.” “Correct,” I answered again. “But in a separate location, on the same day, Ms. Kanbayashi’s older brother Joukichi Kanbayashi—he died. I wonder how closely related the two events were in time?” “I heard they happened at around the same time.” “What was the exact time? Did Joukichi’s death come before Hazumi raised her voice in the classroom or after?” “Oh, I’m not sure.” “If it happened before she spoke, then we can consider Joukichi’s death to be unrelated to the ‘phenomenon.’” “And if it happened after, then it is connected in the end?” “No,” Mr. Chibiki replied, tilting his head slightly as a vertical crease formed on his forehead, “I don’t think that’s likely.” “What do you mean?” “It means…” He started to answer, then held his tongue for a moment and stood up out of nowhere. He came out from behind the counter, walked over to the large reading table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. “Come sit,” he bade me. I did as I was told and sat in a chair across the table from him. “During an ‘on year,’ a ‘casualty’ joins the class,” he explained. “Because of that, the whole class gets closer to ‘death.’ That is the terrible ‘phenomenon’ that has plagued Grade 3 Class 3 of North Yomi for the past twenty-eight years. We have absolutely no idea why this event happens, and we certainly can’t explain it scientifically. We’ve grasped the laws governing the ‘phenomenon’ to a certain extent, but really only in a limited capacity. The ‘countermeasure’ of making someone in the class ‘not exist’ seems to be effective in warding off the start of the ‘calamity’—that much is clear, but what the definition of a ‘non-exister’ is is actually very vague. The truth is, we’re still fumbling in the dark when it comes to the ‘phenomenon’ and the ‘accidents.’ All we can do is observe events as they happen, then make conjectures…but I’m not sure whether that’s bringing us any closer to the heart of the matter. It’s possible that everything we do is far off from the reality of the situation.” Wearing the most somber expression I had ever seen on his face, Mr. Chibiki sighed deeply. “That said, it’s not as if we can stop fumbling around. We must observe, make conjectures, and set our powers of reason to work to confront the ‘phenomenon.’ If we can’t do that, we should just abandon it all and run away from here.” The words run away sent dark ripples through my mind. During the summer of fourteen years ago, Uncle Teruya had chosen that option. He’d fled from this school, from this town, taking his whole family with him. And then… “In any case,” Mr. Chibiki continued, “what we need to do now is to calmly consider the facts of each situation as it happens, make a judgment based on examples from the past, and then address it as best we can. Even someone like me, who’s been observing the ‘phenomenon’ at this school for ages, can only make an obvious statement like that, I’m ashamed to say.” “…………” “Well then.” Mr. Chibiki put both his hands on the table, sat up straight, and looked me in the eye. “How to take the events of yesterday is the question.” “Uh, yes.” “Hazumi quit ‘not existing,’ but there’s still one ‘non-exister’ left—you. And the technique you’re trying this year is a kind of ‘insurance,’ right? Even if you lose Hazumi, your ‘number two,’ there’s still you, ‘number one.’ It would be strange, then, for the ‘calamity’ to begin right away, despite this tactic. When you take a step back, that’s the theory.” Even if Hazumi drops out, as long as I continue in the role, the “countermeasures” should be effective. That’s right. Mei’s been consistently saying that from the beginning, and I also feel like that’s correct. And yet… “Nevertheless, let’s work from the hypothesis that the ‘accidents’ began yesterday during third period,” Mr. Chibiki continued. “As we’ve just confirmed, there was a violent hailstorm, a crow that flew in through the window and raged around the room, and people who got injured. But no one died there. That strikes me as quite unusual.” “…………” “When the ‘calamity’ starts, one or more ‘related individuals’ will die every month. The way they succumb varies, from getting caught up in an incredibly unlikely accident, to the sudden onset of a fatal disease, or even suicide or homicide… But in any event, I think we can say that once the ‘calamity’ begins, it becomes easier for ‘related individuals’ to get killed. The likelihood of them dying unexpectedly, or in a trivial accident, skyrockets. That tendency is obvious. Whereas—” “Even though there was a huge disturbance in the classroom yesterday, nobody died at the scene,” I added. “Exactly.” Mr. Chibiki nodded. “If the ‘calamity’ had actually begun, we would expect someone to have died during yesterday’s confusion. It’s far stranger that everyone made it out alive, really. So…” “So the disturbance yesterday was simply a coincidence, and the ‘calamity’ hasn’t started yet?” “I think we can accept that explanation.” Mm, that’s what I thought yesterday, too. Of course, I may have mostly been trying to reassure myself then. But— “The question then becomes the matter of Joukichi Kanbayashi’s death,” Mr. Chibiki continued on in an unperturbed tone. “Let’s leave aside the earlier discussion about whether the hour of his death came before or after Hazumi’s desertion. He was an inpatient at a hospice outside the city, wasn’t he?” “That’s what I’ve heard.” “As you know, hospices are facilities that house patients in serious condition who have no prospect of recovery. Their purpose is to ease the physical and emotional pain of their residents as they wait for death to claim them—end-of-life care, they call it. Joukichi was afflicted with terminal cancer, right? In short, it wouldn’t have been strange for him to pass at any moment given the condition he was in. And his final hour just happened to arrive yesterday. What if we think of it like that?” “Ah…” I unintentionally let out a little noise. “He wasn’t connected to the ‘calamity’—he just died because he was going to anyway.” Mr. Chibiki ran a finger across his cheek. “I think there’s plenty of room for that interpretation. That’s my take on it anyway.” He said that and nodded, but his expression was still slightly uneasy. As though wondering whether he was being overly optimistic. 4 “I just remembered…,” I spoke up, right as the bell signaling the end of fourth period began to ring. “What is it?” Mr. Chibiki pushed his blackish-green glasses up, a sour look on his face. After waiting for the bell to cease, I said, “Yesterday morning, when I met you in the hall, I think you said you had something you wanted to ask me, plus something you wanted to tell me about.” “Oh yeah. I did say that, didn’t I?” “So?” I didn’t get the impression it was anything all that serious, but now that I had remembered, I was obviously curious. “What was it?” “It’s nothing important,” he answered and pushed his glasses up again. “The thing I wanted to tell you about was, well, basically what I said when you first got here. About there probably being no point to the ‘countermeasure’ of having two ‘non-existers’ this year. Though like I said before, it probably helps as ‘insurance.’” “Ah, all right.” “And the thing I wanted to ask you was…” He stopped, got up from his chair, and moved his neck and shoulders around a little like he was trying to work out muscle stiffness. “Man, I’m thirsty. Want anything to drink?” he asked. “Uh, no, please don’t go to the trouble.” “Really? You don’t need to be polite.” Mr. Chibiki left the table and ducked behind the counter for a moment, then came back holding two plastic bottles. Has he got a fridge back there? The bottles were full of mineral water. He handed one to me, then opened the cap on the other right away and swallowed half the contents in a single gulp. “Thank you,” I said, taking the bottle. “I heard that you put your hand up and volunteered to be this year’s ‘non-exister,’” Mr. Chibiki remarked as he set his bottle on the table. I nodded. “A long time ago, I decided that I would if I ended up in Class 3.” “Hmm. So then…now that you’ve actually been ‘not existing’ for about a month, I’m curious how you’re doing. What I mean is, how are you doing mentally?” “I’m—” Cutting me off, Mr. Chibiki continued. “But from what I’ve seen of you today, there doesn’t seem to be anything to worry about.” “Oh, really?” “No matter how well you understand it rationally, it’s very emotionally trying for your whole class to treat you like you don’t exist. People say they feel needlessly isolated and get depressed or start experiencing paranoia, things like that. I can think of dozens of examples from the past.” Isolation… If that’s all, then I’ve been accustomed to that since I was young. And feelings of paranoid delusion? I don’t think that could ever happen to me. “I’m just fine,” I responded flatly. Mr. Chibiki softened his expression somewhat and nodded. “You seem fine. But just in case, come and see me if you find yourself losing control of your emotions. I don’t know how useful my advice will be, but it’s sure to be better than trying to deal with everything yourself. Got it?” “Thank you very much.” I politely expressed my gratitude. “But I’m certain that I’ll be all right on that front.” “Hmm. What a reliable young man you are.” Mr. Chibiki’s expression softened even further. “By the way,” he added, “I wonder if you’ve seen or spoken to Ms. Misaki lately?” His question took me a little by surprise. Letting my gaze wander around the tabletop, I answered, “Yes. Occasionally.” “She’s in her third year of high school by now, eh?” “That’s right.” “Have you been discussing this year’s developments with her, too?” “Um, yes,” I replied. “And naturally, she seems rather concerned about everything.” “Hmm. Is that so?” At that, Mr. Chibiki looked up diagonally at the ceiling of the dimly lit library room and abruptly narrowed his eyes. He looked like he was reminiscing about the past. “Mei Misaki. She was, how can I say, a student with a mysterious presence. And I thought it had to be more than a coincidence when I first learned that you were a child who had some kind of fateful connection to her, two years ago, when you entered this school just as she was graduating out of it.” I’d never told Mr. Chibiki about the events I had experienced at the Hinami lake house three summers ago or about everything that Mei had done for me back then. I didn’t think I wanted to discuss it with him now, either. “Misaki was…” Just as he was about to say something else, the door slid open with a clatter. I was well acquainted with the two students who entered— “Good afternoon.” “Sorry to intrude!” They were two of my classmates, Izumi Akazawa and Nobuyuki Yagisawa. “Oh!” Mr. Chibiki reacted. “How unusual to have so many visitors.” The two of them must have immediately realized that I was also in the room. Needless to say, a tension of sorts ran through them. This library was part of North Yomi, so the two of them had to treat me as if I “didn’t exist,” after all. But I was fully aware of that. They must have come to consult with Mr. Chibiki about something of their own, I realized and stood up silently from my chair. I moved away from the table, toward a spot by the back window. I’ll stand over here without saying anything so they can pretend like I’m not even here. That was my plan, and they seemed to grasp it. Mr. Chibiki too. “Um, I’m Yagisawa, class representative for Grade 3 Class 3…,” he said to Mr. Chibiki, who nodded, then looked at Izumi, who was standing beside him. “And you?” His mouth formed the words, You are…? “Countermeasures officer Akazawa,” Izumi replied. Her line of sight was directed straight at Mr. Chibiki alone, nowhere near me. “Akazawa, huh?” This might have just been my imagination, but as he fixed his gaze on her, he seemed quite confused. Tilting his head to the side slightly and frowning, he asked, “Hmm, you are…?” Thud. I felt a low reverberation. It was outside my normal range of hearing. I could only feel it. This…sensation…it’s like, yes, it feels like someone looking in from outside the world has stealthily clicked a camera shutter closed. Followed by a black strobe light… That’s how I felt, but only for a moment. After that instance passed, I completely forgot about the sensation. By the time that happened, the look of bewilderment had entirely disappeared from Mr. Chibiki’s face. “Izumi Akazawa, is it? I see—so you’re the countermeasures officer?” “Yes. There are two others besides me, too—Etou and Tajimi.” “Interesting… So? What’s your business here?” he asked them. “I’m sure you didn’t come to borrow books. I bet you’re here to talk to me about the ‘phenomenon’ and the ‘accidents.’” 5 After that, Mr. Chibiki consulted with Izumi and Yagisawa—and I ended up listening to their conversation from a corner of the room far away from the table they were all sitting around, dedicated to the utmost to my role as a “non-exister.” My predictions had been just about right—they’d come to discuss the same things with Mr. Chibiki as I had. Namely, the question of whether or not they should take yesterday’s series of events to mean that the “calamity” had begun. The opinion he expressed to them was also roughly the same as what I had heard from him earlier… “…So you see, there’s still a significant possibility that the ‘calamity’ has not, in fact, started, right? In that case, I think it would be rash to decide that the ‘countermeasures’ are ruined just because Hazumi alone deserted her duty,” Mr. Chibiki concluded. Yagisawa responded, “So the thing with Ms. Kanbayashi’s older brother had nothing to do with the ‘calamity,’ right?” I expected to hear his sigh of relief any moment now. “That’s not a question I can answer with one hundred percent certainty, but from what I’ve heard, there’s a good chance that’s correct.” “That’s not a reassuring way to put it…,” Yagisawa replied. “But, well, I feel like I won’t be able to keep going if I don’t carry on that way.” “But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. So…” As she was speaking, Izumi’s gaze flicked over to me briefly. Though, as a “non-exister,” I couldn’t nod or signal her with my eyes or anything in response… …So I’m continuing on, just as I expected. Silently, I directed my thoughts toward Izumi. Today, after this, and from tomorrow morning on…I must continue to play the part of a “non-exister” as a “countermeasure” to prevent the “calamity.” Not with Hazumi at my side but alone. All by myself. Of course— As long as there’s a purpose to it, that’s no problem for me. I’m not the least bit frightened of solitude. I don’t have any paranoid delusions. I can keep it up just fine. 6 Hazumi didn’t come to school again the next day. Or the day after that or the day after that, either. Ms. Kanbayashi reappeared two days later, on Wednesday the 10th. She seemed like she’d probably also spoken to Mr. Chibiki and gotten a positive assessment of the situation. During homeroom that day, she announced, “Let’s continue with the ‘countermeasures’ with the assumption that the ‘calamity’ has not begun.” She looked around the classroom with a face as expressionless as a Noh mask; it appeared as though she was suppressing her emotions. “My brother’s death on Monday was unavoidable and came at the end of a protracted illness. It appears to be unrelated to the ‘calamity.’ And so…” Her only comment about Hazumi’s absence was, “It is what it is.” In a tone of voice like she was keeping any unnecessary emotion in check, she explained, “If you consider Hazumi’s feelings, it’s perfectly reasonable that she might want to be absent from school for a little while. For the time being, it’s probably best to give her some space.” The old desk and chair placed at the rear of the row closest to the windows on the schoolyard side for the “non-exister” were still there. Before long, these were sure to be replaced with the newer desk and chair that had originally been there. On Tuesday night, Izumi sent me a report. “Hazumi may have dropped out, but we all agreed that you should continue being a ‘non-exister’ for the ‘countermeasures’ from now on, Sou.” She went on to tell me that the countermeasures officers and other key students had discussed the matter off campus after school; ultimately, they decided on this course of action, and they’d already told the rest of the class. All that remained was to get Ms. Kanbayashi’s seal of approval. In this way— The chaos that had threatened to overtake the class had, for the time being, given way to some sense of stability. Though it was a delicate balance, one that had not entirely dispelled the currents of anxiety and fear that came from deeming Hazumi a “deserter.” But it’s all right; it’ll be all right—I admonished myself strongly. As long as I just continue “not existing” exactly as I’ve been doing until now, everything will turn out okay. The “calamity” hasn’t started yet. Which means I can still prevent it. I have to. Repeating this thought like a prayer, I solemnly devoted myself to my duty. Another two days passed, then three, and then the week was over… Hazumi was still absent, but no misfortunes worth mentioning befell the class. The delicate balance had started to stabilize somewhat. If only this equilibrium could continue on forever so the “calamity” doesn’t start, I wished ardently. 7 Eventually, I got another opportunity to speak with Mei Misaki. I’d tried visiting “Blue Eyes Empty to All, in the Twilight of Yomi” several times on my way home from school, but no matter what day I went, Mei wasn’t around, so I hadn’t gotten to see her. I summarized the events of Monday and the main points of my conversation with Mr. Chibiki the following day in an e-mail, but I wasn’t sure whether she’d read it, as I never got a response. But on Saturday, she called me at last. “I think it’s fine,” Mei said. “I don’t think Mr. Chibiki’s judgment will let you down. I do feel bad for that girl Hazumi, though. But as long as you keep it together, you’ll be all right.” “Okay.” Hearing Mei say, You’ll be all right, was probably the best encouragement in the world for me. That was enough for me to believe. With a renewed feeling of confidence, I took a deep breath and held it, then once again answered her with an obedient, “Okay.” “Oh, and listen,” she continued. “Next week, I’ve got my school trip.” “School trip…?” “These days, it’s popular for people to go on their high school trip in their second year, but at my school, we go during the third year, around this time.” “Ummm…where are you going?” “Okinawa.” “Huh?” “Honestly, I’m not that interested.” When I pictured Mei mixed in with a big crowd of students on a group trip to Okinawa—it didn’t seem to fit at all. It made me kind of antsy. But it wasn’t like I could tell her she didn’t have to go if she didn’t want to. “My dad even told me I could pass on Okinawa and join him on a work trip to Europe instead; he was totally serious. But I don’t exactly feel like doing that, either.” Mei’s father, Kotaro Misaki, apparently flew from country to country year-round for his job in international trade. I was acquainted with him as well, so I could imagine him suggesting that like it was nothing. “We’re scheduled to return on the twentieth,” Mei said with a short sigh. “Call me if anything comes up while I’m gone.” “Uh…sure.” There shouldn’t be any emergencies, since everything’s “all right,” like you say. That was my first thought, but of course I obediently agreed. A brief silence fell between us before Mei started talking again. “Oh, right, I mentioned something about this before, but I’m coming over to your place soon.” “Ah. Uh, ah…o-okay.” My reaction in the moment was one of utter confusion. “But even if you come over, there’s nothing to do.” “I’m curious to see what kind of apartment you’re living in all by yourself. And I want to see the doll you have as a memento of Teruya, okay?” “Uh…sure.” The doll was out of its box, displayed on top of a chest in the bedroom. It was a beautiful figure of a girl in a black dress, probably the first- or second-most important object I owned… And as Mei had said, the doll was a memento of my uncle Teruya, who had passed away three years earlier. On top of that, it was a creation of Mei’s mother, the doll artist Kirika. “All right, see you later, Sou.” Before she hung up, Mei muttered something partly to herself: “I’m sure everything will be fine.” 8 “What’s this one called?” A bunch of dinosaur figurines were lined up in the display case. With their owner’s permission, I picked up a creature that I wasn’t too familiar with and asked about it. “Velociraptor.” Izumi looked back from the counter where she had been preparing coffee and answered. “Veloci…?” “Raptor. You don’t know about them? I thought you were in the biology club.” “I know about tyrannosaurus and triceratops and a bunch of others.” “Have you never seen Jurassic Park?” Yagisawa asked. He grabbed the figure from my hands and scrutinized it. “They showed it on TV the other day.” “…I’ve never seen it.” “But you must know the title?” “I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never watched the movie. And I don’t particularly want to.” I knew the basics, of course: It was a huge blockbuster directed by Steven Spielberg. I recalled the original novel by Michael Crichton being on the bookshelf at Lakeshore Manor, but I hadn’t read that, either. “Most boys love dinosaurs and monsters, you know. I’m not bragging, but I’m a fan.” “Well, it’s not like I’m scared of monster media like Gamera and whatever.” “Then Jurassic Park should be fine!” “Hmm.” Dinosaurs were creatures that actually used to exist in this world, so completely fictitious creatures didn’t seem all that different to me, at least not while they were rampaging around on-screen. But I didn’t feel like having that conversation now, so I kept quiet. “You like them, huh, Akazawa? Dinosaurs and monsters and stuff?” Yagisawa asked, setting the figure down on the living room table. “I don’t really care about monsters,” Izumi answered, “but I love dinosaurs. My favorites are the raptors.” “Oh? Why those in particular?” “Partly because Jurassic Park was the first movie I ever saw in theaters.” “I like T. rex better, though. It’s so big and strong.” “But the main characters in that movie are definitely the raptors, right? They’re ruthless and clever… They’re my favorite by a long shot. Plus, they’re cute.” “How on earth are they cute?!” Yagisawa brushed his ruffled hair back. “But you said you saw it in theaters… It was shown a really long time ago.” “My older brother wanted to see it, so he took me along.” “The guy who’s in Germany?” “Yeah, him.” “He took his elementary-school sister to see a dinosaur flick, huh? I couldn’t have handled it!” “Let’s see…what grade was I in when we went?” “I think the sequel, The Lost World, came out three or four years ago now.” Izumi put our three coffees on a tray and brought it over. Then she reached out for the figurine on the table. “My brother bought this for me after the film, you know.” She narrowed her eyes nostalgically as she spoke. “I heard the third movie in the series is supposed to come out this summer. Do you want to go see it all together?” “Sure, okay,” Yagisawa answered. “How about you, Sou?” Izumi looked at me. I didn’t feel like I could tell her I wasn’t interested, so I nodded. “Yeah, okay.” It was the evening of May 17. We were in unit <E-1> at the Freuden Tobii—Izumi Akazawa’s room. A little after eight, Yagisawa had called up uninvited to my room, asking if I wanted company. Then Izumi came over and said she would treat us to coffee… “Please have some,” she offered, pouring cups for us. “You know the café by the river, Inoya? This is their blend. It’s got a characteristic mellowness to it. It’s really tasty.” “Thanks!” Yagisawa took a cup. “Oh, wait,” Izumi said before bringing in a paper bag from the kitchen. “I’ve got all sorts of doughnuts, too. They’re from my mom.” “Wow, don’t mind if I do! Thanks, Mom!” Unexpectedly, we’d started a little nighttime tea party. Yagisawa and I gently toasted with the cups of Inoya-blend coffee Izumi had poured for us. “I don’t know how we managed to do it, but some congratulations are in order for warding off the start of the ‘calamity’ this past month and a half…I think,” noted Yagisawa. “I wasn’t sure how things were going after last Monday, but nothing has happened since then. Anyway, it’s a relief that it hasn’t begun yet.” “That’s for sure.” Izumi’s lips curled into a smile. “It’s all thanks to Sou.” “I don’t really feel like I’m putting in that much effort, though,” I answered as casually as I could manage. I sighed slightly as I added, “And the road ahead is still long…right?” 9 “By the way, about Hazumi…,” Izumi started. Yagisawa stopped chewing on his doughnut. “She hasn’t shown up at all this week. Has she gotten in touch with you, Sou?” “She hasn’t,” I answered quickly. “Not even once after all that?” “Nope.” “Aren’t you worried?” “Well, kind of.” “Geez, you’re cold!” “I said I was kind of worried! But what else can I do?” “Look, man, first of all, you—” “I’m the one responsible for failing to stop the rumors from spreading,” Izumi interjected. She bit her lower lip in regret. “Anyone would be shocked to have graffiti like that scrawled on their desk. It’s totally understandable that she couldn’t take it anymore.” “I don’t think you need to feel so responsible, Akazawa. The people who wrote that stuff are in the wrong.” Yagisawa frowned decisively, then stuffed his half-eaten doughnut into his mouth. He turned to me again. “Sou, you must feel a little responsible, too.” “Uh…yeah, I guess.” “If only you’d been a little nicer to her… Well, too late to do anything now.” It was probably only natural that Yagisawa would want to say that. After all, when I thought back on my various interactions with Hazumi since the morning of the opening ceremony in April, I did feel a twinge of pain in my chest. However— Was I supposed to put on an act and welcome her advances just because of that? Though I posed the question to myself, I couldn’t come up with a better solution. There’s no way that I would have been able to fake it convincingly. And even if I could have, I probably would have ended up hurting her even more in the end… “Apparently, Shimamura and Kusakabe were worried, so they went to visit Hazumi’s house last Sunday,” Izumi said. Yagisawa reacted immediately. “Oh, did they? So how is she?” “They said no one would come out, no matter how much they called. She probably wasn’t home. Or maybe she was pretending not to be there. She didn’t answer when they called her cell phone, either.” “Hmm. What about her parents or extended family?” “Her parents are both busy with work, so they aren’t home very often. It’s always been that way, apparently.” “They’re basically hands-off. To put it bluntly, they’re neglectful.” I remembered Hazumi telling me that herself. I had to assume that her parents probably weren’t aware that their daughter hadn’t been to school in a week, much less that they knew about the unique circumstances of Grade 3 Class 3. And even if they did know, they probably didn’t take it seriously. That’s how it seemed to me. “So at this point, we have no idea whether she’s shut up in her room or wandering around aimlessly outside?” Yagisawa stroked his scraggly chin hairs solemnly. “But you know, after that,” Izumi continued, “either the day before yesterday or the day before that, someone saw her.” “Oh? Who?” “Tsugunaga.” “The class rep? How did she seem? Hazumi, I mean.” “Well…” Izumi brought her coffee cup up to her mouth and sighed deeply. “Tsugunaga just happened to catch sight of her sitting in the passenger seat of a car.” “A car?” “She said the driver was a young man who looked like a college student. According to Tsugunaga, Hazumi looked like she was really enjoying herself.” “No way!” “It was probably her big brother or something, right?” I interjected. But when I realized that Hazumi’s brother was attending college in Tokyo, I added, “Or maybe her brother’s friend?” “Well, isn’t that great?” Yagisawa grinned. “The heartbroken young lady, spurned by Sou, suddenly finds herself with an older college boy…” “Yagisawa!” Izumi snapped and scowled at him. He held his tongue and scratched his head. Later on, I would learn that the young college student was the older brother of Takayuki Nakagawa, the high school boy who had died in a motorcycle accident at the end of April. He was a close friend of his, so Hazumi knew him as “Big Brother Nakagawa.” I’d never met him, so I didn’t have any idea about his character, but she’d once told me that, “Big Brother Nakagawa has always been very kind to me…” In that case… If spending time with him can help Hazumi deal with the stress she’s been under since April, if it can soothe her hurt feelings in any way—in that case, there’s no need to worry too much about her skipping school. 10 “I can’t believe midterms are next week!” exclaimed Yagisawa after finishing off his own doughnuts and what was left of my portion, too. He gave a big yawn. “I wish they would waive exams for Class 3 out of respect for our unusual circumstances.” “And once the tests are over, we’ve got career guidance counseling, too,” I added. “And they’re calling in my parents for a conference. How ’bout you, Akazawa? Are you going to a public high school like most people?” “Who knows?” Izumi tilted her head a little to the side, a gloomy look on her face. She glanced at the door to the piano room in the back. “I don’t have the option of going to conservatory anymore. My parents seem to want to send me to a prestigious private girls’ school, but I don’t know how I feel about that.” “Would the girls’ school be in Yomiyama?” “It’s in another prefecture, a full-on boarding school.” “No way!” Yagisawa leaned back exaggeratedly. “Your family’s really classy, Akazawa.” “Come on—don’t say it like that.” “Heh-heh. What are you doing for high school, Sou?” I wasn’t sure how to answer, so I made some noncommittal noises. “Ah, well…” The undeniable truth was that my own family had cast me out, so the Akazawas were now responsible for me. Both Uncle Haruhiko and Auntie Sayuri had told me I could go to high school, and even college, but I was torn over whether it was all right for me to presume that of them. “Speaking of high school, it’s going to be hard for you to keep ‘not existing’ as you study for entrance exams.” “I normally study alone, so I don’t think it’s going to be much trouble to do both,” I said matter-of-factly. “But it doesn’t feel like it’s really happening yet. The entrance exams aren’t until next year, and there are still seven months left in this one. And of course, there’s the more pressing issue of the ‘calamity’ and the ‘countermeasures’…” “I still can’t believe this place. How could they let a messed-up situation like this go on for years without doing anything about it?” “Probably because there’s no scientific explanation for it,” Izumi responded. “Like, there’s no way that a public institution responsible for our education could admit, however obliquely, to being the site of a mysterious supernatural ‘phenomenon.’ Right, Sou?” “I think that’s part of it. Also, how do I put this? The ‘phenomenon’ probably extends some sort of influence over the entire town of Yomiyama, up to and including altering the awareness and perception of every person who lives here.” “What do you mean?” Izumi asked. I pressed a thumb against my temple. “I can’t find the right way to put it, but…there’s talk of the alteration and falsification of records and memories that happens along with the ‘phenomenon,’ right? Same with the true identity of the ‘casualty’ who slips into the class—I’ve heard people can identify them after graduation but that, as time passes, everyone’s memories become clouded. So in other words, a similar thing might be happening to the whole town.” “Hmm…” Yagisawa frowned and stroked his chin. “The whole thing… Come on, man. I really don’t see how that could be possible.” “I don’t really get it, either.” “Hmm—” “That reminds me,” Izumi interjected, “did you hear that three years ago, when it was an ‘on year,’ someone in the class died on the last day of the first-semester midterm exams?” Ah, that… The memory was painful. An unfortunate accident that had occurred at North Yomiyama Middle School in May, three years back. I remembered reading a newspaper article reporting on it when I was living in Hinami. “Apparently, a girl who was class representative died at the time,” Izumi continued, “so sounds like Tsugunaga is a little worried.” “She’s worried because she’s the female class rep?” Izumi stared Yagisawa straight in the eye as she answered him with a nod. “Yep. Her hunch is totally groundless, though. I mean, think about it. A female class rep dying on the last day of exams this time, just because it happened three years ago? …Give me a break.” “The ‘calamity’ hasn’t started, so surely there’s no reason to worry about that.” “You’re right. That’s…spot-on.” Izumi sighed as she placed her hand listlessly against her cheek. “But even I sometimes have a tendency to think the worst, despite myself.” “Like when?” “For example, when Mr. Chibiki gave us his opinion on the incident last week. What he said pretty much makes sense to me, but if you take the pessimistic angle, what he actually said was the possibility that the ‘calamity’ has started is low. But what if the most unlikely outcome is what’s really happening…what then?” “Hey now, it’s bad luck to say that!” “It is, isn’t it? But it’s also not entirely impossible.” It wasn’t impossible that last Monday, when Hazumi abdicated her role as a “non-exister,” the “countermeasures” had lost their effectiveness, kicking off the “calamity.” It wasn’t impossible that Joukichi Kanbayashi’s death wasn’t an inevitable outcome of his terminal illness and had instead been hastened by the “calamity.” That interpretation was still on the table. I thought there was certainly room for doubt. Even Mr. Chibiki had been extremely cautious about choosing his words. The expression on his face had been somewhat uneasy as well. He hadn’t been able to deny with 100 percent certainty the possibility that the “calamity” had begun. “I hope our fear turns out to be groundless. Sou’s doing such a good job, and theoretically, a single ‘non-exister’ should be enough. But—” Izumi stopped. “But?” Yagisawa urged her on. After a moment’s hesitation, she quickly glanced over to the window and lowered her voice somewhat. “If this is the worst-case scenario, then as a countermeasures officer, I’ve got one last-ditch idea.” 11 “I’m coming to see you next month. I’ve already decided on the days.” My mother, Tsukiho, called to tell me her plans on Wednesday the 24th—the same day that midterms started. But she had no idea about my situation, of course. When my phone got the call, I’d glanced at the display and saw that it was coming from Tsukiho, so I was naturally indecisive over whether to answer it or ignore it. As Dr. Usui at the “clinic” had said, I was still harboring very complicated feelings toward her, after all. It was true that she had thrown me out three years ago, but that didn’t change the fact that she was also my mother. As much as I told myself that there was nothing I could do about this, I went through an emotional roller coaster every time she came up… “…I’ve got midterms,” I told her in a subdued tone. “I’m studying, so…” So I want you to let me off the phone quickly, was what I wanted to say. But if I blurted that out, it would have been better not to answer in the first place, I thought, scolding myself. “Ah…,” Tsukiho answered in a fluster. “I’m sorry for interrupting your studies.” “It’s fine, whatever.” “So you’re graduating next year, aren’t you?” “Mm-hmm.” “What about high school, after graduation?” “Auntie Sayuri and them said I can go.” “Ah…you’ve got to talk it over carefully with them, you know,” she said wistfully, then apologized weakly again: “I’m sorry, Sou.” Despite her apology, there was nothing I could say in response. “Are you coming? Next month.” I got the conversation back on track. “You said you had decided when you’re visiting?” “Ah…yes. Yes I have,” Tsukiho answered nervously. “The tenth of next month, Sunday.” “…I see.” “Mirei’s coming with me.” “Oh. And Mr. Hiratsuka, too?” I hadn’t called Shuuji Hiratsuka, Tsukiho’s second husband and Mirei’s father, “Dad” for years now. “He’s busy, so…it’ll just be Mirei and me. I thought we could have dinner together or something; it’s been so long. And your little sister also wants to see you.” I hadn’t seen her even once since leaving Hinami. And I was pretty sure the last time I’d seen Tsukiho was not long after I entered middle school, when she’d come to escort me to the “clinic.” “I…” I don’t really want to see either of you, is what I was about to say, but I changed my mind just before I responded. “That’s fine. Let me know when you’re close.” 12 May 25, Friday. It was the second day of the midterm exams, and it had been raining since morning. It was the kind of rain that wasn’t too heavy but still required an umbrella. But the wind was quite strong, so even if you put one up, your clothes got a little wet. Despite the weather, I got up earlier than usual that morning and walked down the path along the Yomiyama River for the first time in several days. The water level hadn’t gone up, but the river was muddy, so there were hardly any of the wild birds that I usually spotted on the surface of the water or in the air above it. The birds are around sometimes even on rainy days like this, though… As I walked for a while, my thoughts drifted to Yuika Hazumi. This was the place where she’d first spoken to me at the beginning of April. Only about a month and a half had passed since then, but somehow, it seemed like something that had happened a long time ago. Hazumi still hadn’t come back to class, and she’d been absent for the exams the day before, too. Obviously, I was worried about whether she was all right. But I knew that no matter how much I worried, I couldn’t do anything to help. These days, student truancy was a nationwide issue, and the teachers and administrators at North Yomi were struggling to address it. When I reflected on my time in elementary school, I certainly had no right to scold Hazumi for ditching. I stopped in at the Akazawa main house for breakfast as always, then headed to class alone. 13 We had tests in first period English and second period science. I didn’t consider myself much of a “high achiever,” or whatever you want to call it, but since coming to Yomiyama especially, I’d be lying if I said I struggled with schoolwork or tests. I easily absorbed most of what I needed to know during lessons, so I could usually manage exams with a little last-minute cramming. This hadn’t changed even after entering third year and volunteering to be a “non-exister.” I’d always been confident in this area. That being said, during this particular two-day exam period, my attention was entirely focused on something other than the tests. Namely— INCIDENT AT NORTH YOMIYAMA MIDDLE SCHOOL FEMALE STUDENT DEAD I had happened to see that newspaper headline three years ago in Hinami. I even remembered the date—May 27. The incident it covered had happened on the 26th, the second day of midterm exams at North Yomi… I was even able to pull some of the content from the article that I had read out of my memory. The deceased was a female student in the third grade, Yukari Sakuragi. Immediately after she’d received notice of her mother getting caught in a traffic accident, she lost her life in an unfortunate fall. Her mother had also breathed her last that same day at the hospital. They were the first victims of the “calamity” that had occurred three years earlier—in 1998. According to what Izumi had told me last week, Yukari Sakuragi had been the female class representative at the time for Grade 3 Class 3. So our female class representative, Tsugunaga, seemed a little worried… But at the start of this week, I had visited the secondary library and gotten some more information from Mr. Chibiki, who told me, “Yes, I remember that day. It had been pouring nonstop since the night before. I think we can say that the rain helped cause the accident.” As he spoke, he set down on the counter a binder with a pitch-black cover and opened it. This was commonly referred to as the “Chibiki File.” It contained three decades’ worth of class rosters for Grade 3 Class 3, from the “year it all began” twenty-nine years ago up until this school year. The pages for “on years” were filled with notes about the names and causes of death for the “related individuals” who’d succumbed due to the “calamity,” along with the names of the “casualties” who slipped into the class and what happened to them after it all ended—everything was there. “Sakuragi was indeed the female class representative for that year. I even remember her face. She was a very serious-looking girl whose glasses suited her well.” It happened on the second testing day, right in the middle of the final exam. She’d heard the urgent news—that her mother had been in an accident and was going to the hospital—and rushed out of the classroom in great haste. Just as she started to run down the staircase, her foot gave out, and she went tumbling down. As she fell, she let go of her umbrella, and its pointed tip unfortunately tragically pierced through her throat as she came down… “I saw it myself; what a gruesome scene. She was taken away in an ambulance, but the blood loss and trauma were extreme, so apparently, she didn’t even make it to the hospital.” “Oh…” As he told me, I pictured the graphic circumstances of her death and caught my breath, feeling grim. If Tsugunaga had heard the same story, it would be impossible for her not to worry, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. That’s what I thought anyway. Regardless, today was the second day of midterms. The first-period English exam had ended without incident, and the second-period science exam had begun… When there were about ten minutes left until the end of the exam period, I turned in my answer sheet and left the classroom. The questions had covered an area I knew well, so I’d answered them all quickly. The proctor for this exam was Ms. Kanbayashi, but she didn’t object to my leaving early. Of course, that was because I “didn’t exist.” I glanced quickly around the classroom as I left. Not a single person noticed me… No, actually, Izumi and Tsugunaga both looked back for a split second, then immediately returned their eyes to the front. That’s how it seemed to me anyway. Of the desks and chairs that lined the classroom, two were empty again today. One was Hazumi’s seat. The other belonged to the girl who’d been hospitalized since April. Her name was…yeah, I think it was Makise? No, Makino? I stepped out into the hallway alone, opened the window a little, and gazed out. The rain was still falling, and the wind was strong. When I turned to look at the state of the hallway floor, I noticed it was wet and dirty in places. North Yomi doesn’t use indoor slippers, so the water and mud on people’s shoes and umbrellas get tracked into the school building… I bet it was like this three years ago, too. In the hallway, on the stairs. That’s why Sakuragi slipped on the way down… “…It’s fine.” I shook my head and tried to talk myself out of getting worked up. “This year will be okay.” Finally, the bell signaling the end of the period began to ring, but right after it did, something happened. I heard the sound of hurried footsteps coming from the stairwell. Before long, a male teacher whose face I recognized but whose name I didn’t know showed up. He passed right in front of where I was standing by the window and bolted into the Class 3 classroom. From inside the room where the exam had just concluded came a low commotion. Just as I was wondering what it could be, a single female student came rushing out of the door. That’s…Takanashi? Jun Takanashi. The girl whose first-year little brother just joined the biology club. She was holding her bag in her right hand, and with her left, she snatched her umbrella from the stand. Her face was pale, and her movements were panicked…and just then— “Don’t run in the hallway!” A high-pitched voice echoed down the corridor. “And don’t run down the stairs. Calm down, Takanashi. Be careful!” The voice belonged to Tsugunaga. She’d chased Takanashi out of the classroom and had shouted at the other girl, who still seemed poised to run down the hall. “Be careful, Takanashi. Okay? Understand?” The other girl smiled awkwardly in response, her face still pale but otherwise grateful. She adjusted her grip on her bag and umbrella, took a big breath with her shoulders, and set off walking toward the stairs. Since I couldn’t say anything, I just watched over her as she went. As she saw Takanashi go, Tsugunaga let out a deep, long sigh. Her face was just as pale as Takanashi’s. 14 The teacher had run into our classroom with an urgent message—Jun Takanashi’s mother had been in some sort of accident and sustained serious injuries. It was as if the incident three years ago—as if Yukari Sakuragi’s case—was being copied to the letter. After she left, however, Takanashi had met up with her little brother, who had received the same news, and they safely headed for the hospital where their mother had been transported. After hearing Ms. Kanbayashi’s explanation during homeroom following the end of exams— I didn’t immediately go home, so I stopped in to visit the biology club room instead. Shunsuke Kouda was there like usual, so I went over what had just happened with him. “I wonder what condition Takanashi’s mom is in,” Shunsuke said, wiping his glasses. “Even if the two of them are safe, if something bad happened to their mom, do you think that might constitute the start of the ‘calamity’?” I didn’t know how to answer, so I cast my eyes down. I couldn’t guess what kind of accident she had been in, but all I could do was pray it wasn’t life-threatening. “It’s been a while since you came to club, right?” “Ah…I guess it has.” “As you can see, everyone here is looking healthy after Golden Week,” Shunsuke remarked, gesturing around the room filled with aquarium tanks and cages. “Woo II is full of energy, too.” “None of them wants to become a specimen.” “That’s right. The diaphanized Amano shrimp turned out nicely. Want to see?” “Mm, maybe next time.” “That science test was a piece of cake, huh?” “Yeah, I guess.” “How about the striped loach specimen?” “I’ll see that next time, too.” And so on… We kept chatting for a bit, then left school together. “You’re continuing to ‘not exist’ even after that Hazumi girl dropped out, right, Sou?” “Ah, yeah.” “And that preserves the peace in your class?” “For now, yeah. If Takanashi’s mother is all right, that is.” “I really hope she’s okay.” “No kidding.” With a heavy feeling that wouldn’t clear up at all, we proceeded down the hallway of Building Zero. On the way, we passed in front of the secondary library, but the CLOSED sign was out on the door. It must be shuttered during the exam period. Either that or Mr. Chibiki is taking more leave from school. Outside, it was still raining. The wind was also blowing strongly; the old building was creaking here and there. We went through the connecting passage from Building Zero to Building A, where the front entrance was located. From there, we stepped outside. We each put up our umbrellas and started walking down the paved path to the school gates, when— We could make out the figures of several students walking in front of us. They were less than ten meters away. “Are those girls from Class 3?” Shunsuke pointed and asked. “Look, Akazawa’s up there.” There were three students ahead of us, all girls. Now that Shunsuke had mentioned it, one of them indeed resembled Izumi. I’d seen the light-crimson umbrella she was carrying before. Of the other two, one was carrying a clear plastic umbrella. She was a little taller than Izumi and had a short haircut. That must be Etou. And the other girl is— The last student had a small build, and unlike the others, she wasn’t carrying an umbrella. She wore a raincoat (which was actually more of a loose cream-colored poncho) with the hood up… She looked as though she hadn’t brought an umbrella along in the first place. Is that Tsugunaga? Could it be? Just then, I guessed what had happened. Out of an abundance of concern over the incident three years ago with Yukari Sakuragi, Tsugunaga had intentionally avoided taking an umbrella with her, despite the elements. That probably meant that she knew about the details of the accident three years ago. She knew that the lethal weapon that spurred Sakuragi’s death had been the umbrella she’d been carrying…and so… That was probably also why Tsugunaga was worried when Takanashi went tearing out of the classroom right after the science exam ended. If Takanashi had run down the stairs in a big hurry just like Sakuragi did three years ago, the same thing might have happened. Fearing that, she instinctively… Suddenly, a fierce noise echoed through the air, startling us. Gora-gora-gora…boom! Was that the wind? It must be much stronger than what’s been blowing all day. Is it sweeping through the upper atmosphere? Or maybe along the ground? As I glanced around restlessly, all the trees surrounding us rustled and shook in unison—sh-sh-shh! The gale reached us and sent our parasols blowing away. “Wow, that came on really suddenly, huh?” Shunsuke remarked. “It’s like a typhoon is coming or something.” Just as he said that, the intensity of the pouring rain doubled. We pulled ourselves together and made two or three steps of headway, but then came another violent boom, echoing far and wide. Is it up in the air, or did it come from the ground? I could see two out of the three girls ahead of us struggling to keep their umbrellas from flying away. Tsugunaga was fighting to hold her poncho in place as the wind buffeted it … As I was watching her, she suddenly fell to her knees on the pavement. Her hood had already come off her head. What happened? Tsugunaga tried to stand back up, but she looked like she couldn’t move very well. Maybe that was due to the storm… No, the hem of her poncho probably got caught on the fence separating the path and the row of trees planted alongside it. That’s what it looked like to me anyway. The wind howled, and the rain gushed down. In between gusts, another strange sound suddenly rang out—that’s how it seemed, at least. A second later, something coming diagonally from above cut a path through the shining white streaks of rain. An unidentifiable gray shadow… Someone let out a short shriek. It was probably Tsugunaga. Both Shunsuke and I could hear it from a distance. “No!” That was Izumi’s or Etou’s voice. “Oh no!” “What? What is this?” “Tsugunaga?!” “Th-they need help!” Shunsuke shouted beside me. Tossing his umbrella aside, he took off running furiously through the downpour. I chased after him in a panic, and by that point, I could see that an obvious change had come over Tsugunaga. She had stopped moving, still kneeling on the path, and was looking up at the sky. Something gray was sticking diagonally down into the right side of her neck. And— A vivid red was beginning to stain her cream-colored poncho. No sooner was the red washed away by the rain than it flowed down anew… Ah, that’s blood. Frightfully bright scarlet blood, coming from her neck… As I rushed over, I finally understood the situation. The object buried deep in Tsugunaga’s neck was a piece of gray-painted metal, probably a sheet of galvanized steel or something—long, thin, and quite large. It had flown out of nowhere to pierce her throat like a blade. “Tsugunaga…!” Izumi had thrown her parasol aside just like Shunsuke and I had, and I could see her lips were trembling with fear as she spoke. Etou had slumped to the ground in a daze, several meters back. “How could it end up like this…?” The class rep remained locked in place, still looking up at the sky. An anguished groan escaped her mouth, along with bubbles of blood. She’s still breathing. “An ambulance!” Shunsuke shouted, pulling out his own cell phone. Izumi gasped in surprise. I turned and saw Tsugunaga lifting both hands unsteadily, trying to grab hold of the metal plate that was sticking out of her neck. Ah, don’t do that! I immediately thought, panicked. You can’t! If you pull it out now… But my panic was fruitless in the end. I’m sure Tsugunaga couldn’t even comprehend what on earth had happened to her— Driven by the intense pain, the girl used the last bit of her remaining strength to dislodge the foreign object that had embedded itself in her flesh. The moment she did, fresh fluid spurted with alarming force from the open wound. As her blood dyed the still-falling rain red, Tsugunaga collapsed limply and completely ceased moving. 15 By the time the ambulance arrived, Tomoko Tsugunaga had already died from blood loss. On the 25th of May, 1:30 in the afternoon. The gymnasium stood several dozen meters from the scene of the accident. The story was that the unexpectedly strong winds had peeled off a section of its roof and sent it flying. The building was several decades old, and the whole thing had been steadily deteriorating. Moreover, it had incurred a bit of damage during the hailstorm on the 7th of the month. But even when you kept that in mind… It was an unbelievably unlucky coincidence that a fragment of the roof would get blown off and tossed up in the air like that and then, of all things, come falling down to strike Tsugunaga at just the right angle while she was held up on the path. Late at night on the same day, May 25, Jun Takanashi’s mother, Shizu, breathed her last in the hospital. Earlier that day, she’d been in a minor collision with a small automobile. She’d broken her hip, but her situation hadn’t seemed life-threatening when at the hospital. And when her children rushed over after hearing about the emergency, she had apparently been fully conscious. Overnight, however, her condition suddenly took a turn for the worse. During the accident, she had suffered a blow to the head that somehow went overlooked during her intake examination; the resulting brain hemorrhage caused her death. Two people “related” to Grade 3 Class 3 met their irrational deaths in the span of a single day. At last, the dreaded “calamity” has begun… No, it probably had already started when Joukichi Kanbayashi died, as we suspected. Whether we liked it or not, reality had come knocking at the door.
Chapter 140
57 min read