Chapter 142

Chapter 8 June I 1 We passed the remaining days of May in a state of confusion and despair, grief and trepidation…then June arrived. In accordance with Izumi’s request, I continued “not existing” at school, even after the deaths of Tsugunaga and Takanashi’s mother. Meanwhile, the countermeasures officers and other key students held a conference and presented their decision to the whole class for approval…and things progressed accordingly. Ms. Kanbayashi also had no strong objections. Izumi was selected as the new female class representative, and she began serving concurrently as representative and countermeasures officer. Hazumi’s string of consecutive absences continued as before. Assuming news of the “calamity” starting had finally reached her, she was probably even less inclined to come to school for a while. That was easy enough to guess. 2 “I heard there was a very unfortunate accident at North Yomi last week. A student in your class passed away?” asked Dr. Usui. Reflexively, I glanced down to the side. I think I also bit my lower lip slightly. “Were you close with the student who died, by any chance?” he asked. “No.” I shook my head side to side. “We’d talked a bit, but that’s all.” “Still, I’m sure it must have been quite a shock.” “Yeah, I guess.” “Are you all right? What I’m trying to ask is, does it hurt that a graphic death happened close to you? Is it bringing back memories of the incident three years ago?” “I’m fine,” I answered, my eyes still on the floor. “…I think.” I’m not sleeping well, and I can’t stop having nightmares. I’d been experiencing the usual symptoms this past week, but it had nothing to do with the events of three years ago. The visions in my nightmares weren’t from that time; they were recent—especially incidents from the past month. Her voice shouting, “I exist!” and “I’m right here!” The pitch-black figure of the crow flapping about the room. The boom! of the wind and the disheveled cream-colored poncho…and then the fresh, spurting blood. That girl collapsing, covered in so much blood… This hadn’t been my first time seeing someone die. Three years ago, I’d witnessed Uncle Teruya’s death at Lakeshore Manor. And yet— Even though they were both “deaths,” I felt like what happened then and what happened last week were completely different things. One difference was the feeling of guilt that had settled into my gut, the frustration and sense of helplessness at having not been able to prevent the start of the “calamity.” And if Hazumi’s defection was actually the reason why our efforts had failed, then I bore the responsibility for my failure to keep her from quitting… In other words, I was carrying unbearable feelings of personal responsibility. Dr. Usui was persistently calm and gentle as he asked his questions, but I didn’t think I was honest with most of my answers. I wasn’t sure whether or not he realized it. It was Saturday, June 2, just before lunch. As usual, I’d submitted my notification of absence to the school and come to the “clinic” in the annex of the municipal hospital— “I’d like to ask you about a strange rumor going around.” After an exchange that superficially resembled my usual monthly or bimonthly sessions, Dr. Usui abruptly changed the subject. “I hear there’s a strange legend concerning ‘death’ at the middle school you attend…” He’s aware of it, too, huh? I suppose it’s inevitable that rumors would spread. I didn’t dislike Dr. Usui; in fact, I trusted him, but I had never spoken a word to him about the peculiar circumstances of Grade 3 Class 3. Not about the “phenomenon,” or the “accidents,” or the “casualty” who joined the class, or about the falsification and alteration of records and memories… No matter how seriously I might try to discuss those things, I was sure there was no way that a doctor of psychiatry would take me seriously. Not so long as he himself wasn’t a related party. That’s what I’d assumed. “I don’t know what legend that would be.” I decided to dodge his question this time. “I’m sure it’s just some half-baked story. I’m not interested in that kind of thing.” 3 Although it wasn’t really raining, I left the same way I had the last time when my appointment was over, without really knowing why. I went through the passage on the first floor, from the annex to the main building. As I was moving slowly down the complex, twisting corridor exactly as I’d done last time— My thoughts drifted back to the past of their own accord. To two days after the gruesome accident that was painful to even recall—to Sunday evening, when Izumi had come over to my apartment. The words we’d exchanged then were still fresh in my ears. “If this is the worst-case scenario, then I’ve got one last-ditch idea.” That’s what Izumi had said before. I’d asked her what exactly that entailed. “Well, it’s—” Izumi broke off and stared directly into my face. After a short pause, she said, “You remember what happened at the ‘strategy session’ at the end of March, right? When we decided who would be the ‘non-exister’ if this turned out to be an ‘on year’?” “Yeah. Of course I remember that.” When the conversation had turned to the question of who among us would bear the burden of “nonexistence,” I had raised my hand. But right after that, Etou had commented, “Is that really all we need to do?” leading to us choosing a “second.” After that, we’d used playing cards to draw lots… “They picked out the person with cards, right? That’s when Hazumi pulled the joker and became the ‘second,’ but… Okay, so think back. To before that happened.” Izumi narrowed her almond-shaped eyes, as if she was looking at something far away. I narrowed mine in tandem. “Before that?” As I asked the question, I searched my memory. Izumi replied, “Before the lottery began, someone else tried to volunteer, right? In a small, quiet voice that everyone was a little surprised to hear. Why so suddenly? We all wondered…” “…Ah!” The scene on that day more than two months ago burst forth in my mind, as though revealing itself out from the darkness. That’s right. Now I remember—something like that did happen. There was someone other than me who volunteered to accept the role of the “non-exister,” and I was a little surprised when they did… “…But ultimately, their offer wasn’t recognized, so we went ahead with the lottery, right?” “The cards had already been shuffled, and I think…yeah, Hazumi said in a weird, panicked way, ‘You can’t do that now,’ then immediately started the lottery drawing.” “Ah…you’re right. I guess that is how it went.” If that was true, then by that time, Hazumi must have already noticed the mark on the joker and made her decision to become the “second.” So… “And it was Makise who volunteered for the role back then, wasn’t it?” “Makise…” …Right. That’s correct. Her name was Makise. I can’t picture her face very well, but she had a small, quiet voice and was sort of a feeble, inconspicuous girl… “She had some pretty serious health problems and needed to be hospitalized for a while starting in April, right?” Izumi said, then blinked slowly. I felt as if my own vision blacked out for a second in time with the movement of her eyelids. “That’s why she volunteered at the meeting. She didn’t tell everyone this, but since she wouldn’t be able to come to school that much anyway, I bet she was thinking it might be best to take on the role of the ‘non-exister’ herself, don’t you think?” Now that Izumi had pointed it out, I could see how the proposal did make a certain amount of sense. Even if she was out of school and hospitalized, that wouldn’t change the fact that she was a member of Grade 3 Class 3. Ignoring her as the “non-exister” would have been easy for everyone else, physically and psychologically. Much simpler than if anyone else did it. And yet— —her proposal hadn’t been accepted. Then Hazumi had pulled the joker, becoming the “second non-exister.” Izumi continued. “I’ve been thinking about talking to Makise again and getting her to replace Hazumi as the ‘second non-exister.’” “Ah…” I see, so that’s it. But I wonder how that will go? I wonder if that could really shut down the “calamity” now that it’s already begun? “So to solve this problem, I’m sure that finding a ‘power balance’ will be essential. That’s how it seems to me, at least.” “What do you mean?” “An ‘extra person,’ the ‘casualty,’ has appeared in our class and invited the ‘calamity.’ But by designating ‘non-existers,’ we prevented the ‘calamity’ from starting. The ‘power’ of the ‘casualty’ pulling us toward ‘death’ is offset by the ‘power’ of the ‘non-existers,’ maintaining a balance. That’s how I see it.” “Hmm.” “This year, we established two ‘non-existers,’ just to be safe. In doing so, we kept the ‘calamity’ from starting in April, which means the equilibrium was correct, right? However, once Hazumi abandoned her duties in May, the ‘calamity’ started. That must mean we’re working with a different power dynamic this year.” “Wait…you mean that we’re out of alignment with only one ‘non-exister’?” “Out of whack, off balance…yes, that’s the picture. If we don’t increase the ‘power’ of the ‘non-existers,’ we won’t be able to negate the ‘power’ of this year’s ‘casualty’…get it?” So the theory is that by enlisting another “non-exister,” we can restore the equilibrium that Hazumi upset when she abdicated her position? And if we do that, it should stop the “calamity”? Izumi reemphasized that she didn’t know if her line of thinking was correct, or if it would do anything at all, but that we couldn’t know until we tried. She also insisted it was better than doing nothing. I agreed with her. I’m sure she’s probably right. And it’s certainly better than sitting on our hands… Three days after our conversation, on Wednesday, the countermeasures officers Izumi and Etou went as representatives of the class and visited Makise, who was hospitalized in the internal medicine ward of the same hospital that housed my clinic—this had been on May 30. Apparently, Makise had been sympathetic and kindly accepted the request, telling Izumi, “I’ll be glad to help if I can.” She was likely to be hospitalized for quite some time, so being a “non-exister” was no big deal to her for now. And she’d promised that even when she could leave the hospital and return to school, she would be fine with continuing to be a “non-exister” if it would curtail the “calamity.” Today was the fourth day since this new and desperate “countermeasure” had been put into practice. 4 As I was walking down a hallway in the main hospital building, I was suddenly struck by the urge to go find Makise’s room. Although I hadn’t had the chance to see her at school for some time now, starting this month, she and I were going to both be “non-existers”… That’s as far as that thought went before I decided to give up on the idea for the day. I had a feeling that it would be insensitive for a boy from her class to suddenly show up for a visit. Plus, I couldn’t say what would come of my having contact with her here… But… She was still my classmate. I’d met her only once at the “strategy session,” and I could barely recall her face. Now that she’s in the middle of a long hospital stay, I wonder what’s on her mind. How is she passing the time? When I imagined her anxiety and loneliness, another set of problems entirely from everything surrounding the “calamity,” it felt unbearable. It made me want to visit her someday soon, maybe with Izumi. It was about thirty minutes past noon when I finished paying at the hospital desk. I hadn’t come by bicycle that day, so I waited at the bus stop in front of the building for a while, standing with several other people who, as far as I could tell, were all older than I was. The bus finally arrived under a featureless cloudy sky, as though foreshadowing the start of the rainy season. Getting my coins ready, I was heading for the door in the center of the vehicle when— The disembarking passengers exited from every door of the bus. When I looked up inadvertently, I saw a familiar face. Is that… …Kirika? I’d seen her for only a moment, so it was possible that I had made a mistake. But on the other hand, I also remembered passing a woman who looked a lot like her in the entryway on my way home last time I came here. In which case, I bet that really was her… She must have some kind of physical condition that keeps her coming back to the hospital. Thinking exactly the same thing I had last time, I boarded the bus. 5 After getting off at the Daybreak Forest stop in Romero, I visited the library, then ate at a nearby fast-food restaurant before setting out on foot toward Misaki. I was headed for the doll gallery “Blue Eyes Empty to All, in the Twilight of Yomi,” and I needed to be there by 3:30. I had plans to meet Mei Misaki. We’d gotten confirmation that the “calamity” had started with the deaths of two people, Tsugunaga and Takanashi’s mother, and I’d been able to speak with Mei only over the phone since then. As might be expected, I wanted to speak with her in person. I felt it was urgent, so here I was. It was the first time I had come to see her at the “Blue Eyes…” gallery since mid-April. More than a month and a half had passed since our last meeting. The situation had changed considerably, but the inside of the gallery was, as always, hushed and still, as if entirely detached from the outside world. As usual, a haunting string melody was playing, and as usual, Grandma Amane was the one to greet me. “Welcome. You’re a friend, so you don’t need to pay. Mei is downstairs.” “Thank you.” Mei was sitting alone in a chair at the same round table I’d seen when I’d visited in April, with her chin resting on her hand. She was wearing a dark-blue, almost black blouse and seemed like she might dissolve right into the crouching shadows that filled the space. Something about her was quite gloomy. “Hello, Sou.” Mei took her chin off her hand and greeted me. “It’s been a while since our last rendezvous.” “Yes. Well…hello.” “Sit.” “Okay.” I sat down across from her. Mei had her eye patch off again today. She wasn’t wearing her “doll’s eye” in her left socket but the artificial eye that was black flecked with brown. “So…” After staring silently at me for several seconds, Mei opened her mouth. “Are you okay?” “Okay…? Do you mean the class?” I answered her question with a question, and Mei shook her head side to side. “I mean you, Sou.” “Me…?” “How are you feeling; where’s your head at? I’m wondering how you’re holding up after everything that’s happened.” “Ah…ummm, well…” “You did your best, but the ‘calamity’ started anyway. You’re not beating yourself up or feeling disheartened, are you?” “Well, I would be lying to say that I’m not disheartened at all, but…” Despite everything that was going on, Mei was worried about my feelings. I was ashamed of how happy that made me. “But I’m all right.” I tried to answer her as calmly as I could. “The accident last week with that girl Tsugunaga happened right in front of your eyes, didn’t it?” “That was…yeah, of course, it was really shocking, but, well…yeah, I’m okay.” “Really?’ “At least, I’m not thinking that I’m ready to run away from this place or anything.” “I see.” The music flowing through the building changed to a familiar tune. It was Fauré’s “Sicilienne.” If I recall correctly, this piece was playing when I visited in April, too… The coincidence stuck out to me. “By the way—” I started to say. “By the way—” In the same moment, Mei uttered the same words. I panicked and held my tongue while she continued speaking. “About the new ‘countermeasure’ I heard about on the phone the other day…you’ve started that already, right?” “Uh, yes.” I sat up straight and nodded. “A new ‘second non-exister’ has replaced Hazumi. We hope to bring the ‘power’ back into alignment that way; that’s the ‘countermeasure’…” I told Mei again about the new “countermeasure” that I had explained quickly on the phone the other day. “…And the girl who we approached about taking on the role of the new ‘second’ already agreed and accepted. Today’s day four.” “…I see.” Mei answered me like that again, then looked away from me with her right eye. She had her chin in her hands just like last time I’d come down here. She seemed listless. I heard the faint tinkling of the bell on the door upstairs. I guess a customer showed up? Or maybe it’s Kirika coming home…? “But you know, Sou,” Mei murmured, “I think you’d better not be too optimistic about whether this new ‘countermeasure’ is going to be effective. Though I doubt my saying so means very much.” “Why do you think I shouldn’t be optimistic?” “Well…” Mei hesitated. “Because that’s what happened three years ago.” I was at a loss for words. Mei continued. “I told you about this before, right? About how I took on the role of the ‘non-exister’ for Grade 3 Class 3 three years ago. Back then, our ‘countermeasures’ also failed, and the ‘calamity’ began, so at that point, we decided it would be a good idea to make Sakakibara into the ‘second non-exister’ to increase the number of people who ‘didn’t exist.’ But in the end, this ‘additional countermeasure’ produced no results.” “But this time is totally different from what happened three years ago,” I countered. “We had two ‘non-existers’ from the outset, and the ‘calamity’ started after one of them abandoned her duties. So now we’re going back to two people to restore the balance…see?” “I understand your reasoning. And your ‘initial settings,’ so to speak, were certainly different than ours three years ago.” Mei tilted her head anxiously as she answered me. “But listen, no matter what type of ‘countermeasures’ you take at first, the ‘calamity’ that starts once those fail won’t stop, can’t stop, no matter what schemes you add after the fact—that’s my perspective, at least.” I was once again speechless. She shook her head slowly and continued. “Ah…but you know, the very act of coming to this conclusion probably actually means nothing.” “What do you mean?” “Since it’s a natural phenomenon and all.” Hearing Mei’s response automatically brought to mind the phrase that Mr. Chibiki liked to use, “a supernatural natural phenomenon.” “Thanks to Mr. Chibiki’s observations, we understand some of the rules governing the ‘phenomenon,’” Mei continued. “And we know that there are effective ‘countermeasures’ against it…but those things are probably just one part of the whole picture.” “…………” “Even now, with science as developed as it is, we still can’t accurately predict and prevent the occurrence of all sorts of natural phenomena, right? Like typhoons or earthquakes. Even if you know it’s going to rain today and carry an umbrella with you, it doesn’t guarantee that you’re going to make it through the day without getting wet. If there’s a strong wind and the rain comes down sideways, your clothes are going to wind up soaked no matter how big your parasol. And if the rain turned to hail, your umbrella might get torn to shreds. Unforeseen things are happening constantly. “To say nothing of the fact that this ‘phenomenon’ is a ‘supernatural natural phenomenon’ that defies scientific explanation…so from my modest experience and best guess, your plan probably won’t amount to much. That’s how it seems to me.” So what you’re saying is that our new “countermeasures” might be pointless? Her wording made it seem like you could also interpret her assessment that way. “But you can’t say it will fail for sure, either, right?” I prodded. She acknowledged the question with only a blink of her right eye. “The best we can hope for is that it goes well.” “Hey, Mei?” I couldn’t help but ask at this point: “During the ‘calamity’ three years ago, neither the original ‘countermeasures’ nor the ‘additional countermeasures’ worked out, and a number of ‘related individuals’ died…but after that, it all stopped, right? Why was that? Why did it stop?” It was a question I’d tried to bring up countless times before. But Mei never gave me a clear answer. I was sure there was something there she didn’t really want to talk about. I had sensed that and tried not to pry too deeply, but… “…It stopped because—” After a short silence, Mei’s lips parted. I laced my fingers together on top of the round table. Without meaning to, I pressed my fingertips tightly into my hands. “Because…” She was trying to respond, but she anxiously shook her head a little. “This is one thing that I…” Just then— I heard something behind me. The sound of someone descending the stairs…and then a voice. “Oh, here you are.” A familiar female voice, belonging to someone with whom I spoke nearly every day. “Sou? Do you come here often?” When I turned around in shock, I saw Izumi Akazawa standing there in her school uniform. 6 Come to think of it—actually, there was no reason to think too hard—I’d hardly ever spoken about Mei Misaki to any of my friends. Only to Yagisawa, who’d been my “comrade” ever since our first year. I do remember telling him a little bit about her, but regardless, the two of them had never met. So yes, I figured that Izumi also knew nothing of Mei and that this would obviously be their first time meeting each other. “Akazawa…” I got up out of my chair and turned to face Izumi, who’d come down the stairs. “Why are you here?” “Just by chance. A total coincidence.” After answering my inquiry with an earnest expression, Izumi laughed jokingly. “That’s a lie, of course.” “Um…” “I was on my way home from school when I just kind of had the urge to drop by the library at Daybreak Forest. And then I spotted you going into a nearby shop, Sou.” “Huh, you did?” “We were close enough that you could have recognized me, but you didn’t notice I was there…so that’s pretty much what happened.” “You followed me?” “I sort of got curious about where you were going…okay?” She broke into a grin and stuck her tongue out playfully. “But wow, Sou, you’re surprisingly unobservant. I was following you pretty conspicuously, but you didn’t notice me at all.” “Hmm.” I was obviously concerned about what Mei was thinking during this exchange of ours. I was worried she might be disappointed to have our conversation cut off by this sudden development. “Is this a friend of yours, Sou?” I turned around quickly at Mei’s question. “Not exactly a friend—um, she’s my cousin. We’re the same age and in the same class now.” “I’m Izumi Akazawa. Pleased to meet you,” she said over my shoulder. “Ah,” Mei reacted. “Akazawa…same as the aunt and uncle who are taking care of Sou?” “Uh, that’s right,” I answered. “She’s a countermeasures officer this year and also the new female class representative…” I went ahead with the explanation, but Izumi cautioned me while staring straight into my eyes, “Wait a second, Sou!” Her look seemed to be asking, Who is this person? “Ah, um…” After glancing quickly at Mei, I answered Izumi’s unspoken question. “This is Misaki. Mei Misaki.” “Misaki…hmm?” Sure enough, Izumi reacted to the fact that Mei’s last name sounded the same as the name of the student who’d famously died twenty-nine years ago—Misaki Yomiyama. She raised her eyebrows a little, as if putting her guard up. I continued. “The Hiratsukas used to be good friends with the Misakis, which is how I got to know them. We’ve stayed close since I moved here. Misaki is a 1999 graduate of North Yomi, and she was in Class 3 in her third year. That was also an ‘on year,’ so she has experience with the ‘phenomenon’ and the ‘accidents,’ too…” When I had explained as much, Izumi seemed to get it. She swung her backpack around in front of her and placed both hands on top of it. “I see…,” she mumbled. “So you’ve come for an expert opinion, huh?” “Well, yeah, something like that.” As for the fact that Mei had taken on the role of the “non-exister” three years earlier…I didn’t think I needed to reveal that just then. I thought the same about mentioning her opinion on the new “countermeasures” we’d just implemented three days prior. “Nice to meet you, Miss Akazawa.” This time it was Mei who spoke to Izumi. “I’m Mei Misaki.” At this point, I was still standing in between both girls, blocking them from looking directly at each other. Mei stood up out of her chair; Izumi took a step forward…and I moved from beside the round table toward the middle of the room. The result was that the two of them were facing each other at a distance of several meters. I think that was when they first got a good look at each other’s faces, in the silence of the several-second gap between the songs playing in the background. Coincidentally, the next song that began to play was “Sicilienne” again… “Mei…Misaki…” I thought I could see surprise or maybe confusion surface in Izumi’s eyes as she gazed at her face. “You’re…” Izumi stopped whatever she’d been about to say, then shook her head slightly, right to left. She put one of the hands that had been resting on top of her bag to her forehead and sighed faintly. Just as I was wondering what was going on with her, she took another step forward, further closing the gap between her and Mei. “Thanks for looking after Sou,” she said in a strangely formal tone. “As his cousin, I’d like to express my gratitude—” “Hang on, hang on!” I interjected despite myself. “That’s not really something you need to thank her for.” Izumi glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “I may be your cousin, Sou, but somehow you feel more like a little brother to me, so…” “Come on—that’s not…” I gave up trying to object. Sure enough, Izumi had always felt kind of like an older sister to me, right from the start. But here—in front of Mei, a person she was meeting for the first time—she didn’t have to play that up, in my opinion. When I peeked over at Mei, she looked as indifferent as ever, quietly staring at Izumi, her expression blank. “Izumi…Akazawa.” I could hear her quietly mumbling. “Akazawa…” What’s up with her? Maybe it’s my imagination, but she looks like she’s trying to remember something important… Thud. A low reverberation materialized from outside my hearing range. At almost the exact same moment, I sensed the world go black for a split second, and my breathing stopped. This is… It’s like someone outside the world just clicked a camera shutter closed. Like someone turned out the lights. These strange images surfaced momentarily in my mind, then disappeared just as quickly. Ah, what could it be? The question itself vanished after a moment. “Miss Akazawa,” Mei said. Not in a quiet mumble like before but clearly, facing the person she was addressing. “I’ve heard from Sou about the situation of this year’s Class 3. I’ve heard what kinds of ‘countermeasures’ you’ve enacted and the fact that, despite your efforts, the ‘calamity’ began last month. I also know that in the face of that setback, you’ve been trying out a new ‘countermeasure.’” “Uh, yes.” Izumi accepted Mei’s gaze and words without seeming overwhelmed. Mei continued in the same tone. “Even though I experienced it three years ago, I’m not currently involved, so I’m not really in a position to form an opinion on this or that. Though I can give a certain amount of advice if you ask.” “We’re doing our very best,” Izumi stated. “We’re trying to keep the situation from getting any worse, however we can.” “I know you both have it hard. Sou as a ‘non-exister’ and you as a countermeasures officer. And it’s clear that you’re trying your best. But—” Here, Mei turned to me. “If you feel you can’t take it anymore, if you just can’t stand it, Sou, you can run away.” “Run away…?” I shrank from her gaze, surprised. “By that, do you mean like Uncle Teruya did?” As soon as I said that, my chest tightened. I recalled the many words I had once exchanged with Teruya at Lakeshore Manor in Hinami, and they threatened to break right through my flimsy rib cage and spill out into the void. “I would absolutely never do anything like—” “This place is incredible!” Just then, Izumi interjected, quite indifferent to what I was going through. It wasn’t clear whether or not she meant to distract from my distress. Leaving the round table to walk deeper into the room, she slowly surveyed her surroundings. “There are so many of these spooky dolls. Do you like this sort of thing, Misaki?” “Do I like them? Well, this is my house, so…,” she answered. Izumi looked surprised. “Oh, I didn’t know.” “The second floor is the workshop,” I added in explanation. “Mei’s mother, Kirika, makes the dolls there.” “Come to think of it, wasn’t there one in your room, Sou? A figure like the ones here?” “Ah, yeah. That’s also one of Kirika’s…” “Do you like them, Miss Akazawa? Dolls like these?” Mei asked, a smile rising on her pale cheeks. “Hmm.” Izumi thought for a little while. “Good question. To me, they’re a little, how do I put it…?” “Unpleasant?” “Not unpleasant exactly…” Izumi pouted dramatically, then smiled like Mei as she answered. “I think they’re incredible, but they don’t really resonate with me. They’re too pretty, and sort of scary, and I can’t keep from staring at them somehow…yeah. Dinosaur figurines are more of my thing.” 7 Rain started falling on Sunday afternoon. The next day, Monday, it was still raining. Tuesday was rainy, too. Then, on Wednesday, it was officially announced that the rainy season had begun, and the overcast, wet weather persisted for the rest of the week. And every day that week, a kind of cold, damp tension hung in the air of the Grade 3 Class 3 classroom. We were continuing with our “countermeasures” after establishing a new “second non-exister.” No one knew whether it would work yet. It would be great if it was effective, but if it turned out to be nothing more than pointless resistance, then— The “calamity” would continue its onslaught, and a “related individual” would die that month. Back in March, when the “handover ceremony” and “strategy session” had taken place, I’m sure that some of the students had doubted whether the “phenomenon” and the “accidents” were real. I believed some students had been incredulous ever since the day of the opening ceremony, when it became clear that this was an “on year” and the class-wide “countermeasures” kicked off. But ever since our classmate Tsugunaga had died the previous month, even the skeptics had been forced to completely abandon their initial skepticism. Anxiety. Panic. Fear. The tension choking the classroom was palpable. Everyone was wondering who the next “accident” would claim if our new “countermeasures” failed. Who was going to succumb? We were only teenagers, but we were already facing down “death” at an age when we wouldn’t normally be aware of the pull it had on us. Each and every one of us had already been forced to accept the twisted “reality” of our strange situation. Thankfully, the week passed without incident. Perhaps we two “non-existers,” the hospitalized Makise and me, had restored the temporarily broken balance of “power”—I wanted to believe that was true. And it wasn’t just me. The same went for Izumi and the other countermeasures officers, Yagisawa, Ms. Kanbayashi, and all the other students, too… I’m certain they all felt the same. 8 Saturday, June 9. School was not in session, since it was the second Saturday of the month, but I woke up early in the morning as always. Typical of the season, it was pouring buckets outside, and I felt a little melancholy as I realized that it would be another rainy day. I didn’t feel like getting up right away, but once I did, I felt no enthusiasm for venturing down to the Akazawa house for breakfast… Auntie Sayuri called to ask what was the matter, but I told her, “I’ll come up with something on my own for breakfast and lunch.” And so, even into the afternoon, I shut myself up in my room, idly passing the time. Though I’d washed my face and changed my clothes, I laid back down in the bed right away, sighing weakly over and over. I was being undeniably pathetic, and I felt irritated with myself. It was all because— I’d gotten a call from Tsukiho. Right after speaking with Auntie Sayuri this morning. “I’m sorry, Sou,” she had told me in the same tone as ever. “I was planning to visit you tomorrow, but Mirei came down with a sudden fever last night. She can’t possibly come with me, but I can’t go out and leave her here.” “We’re coming to Yomiyama on June 10, so I thought we could eat a meal together or something; it’s been so long”—I remembered exactly what she’d said during our last phone call. And there was probably some part of me, however tiny, that had been looking forward to that day, so…that’s why. “Oh, I see,” I’d answered bluntly, while some part of my heart groaned dully. The groan eventually collected at a point deep in my chest and formed a heavy mass. “I’m sorry,” Tsukiho repeated. “But I can’t go anywhere. I’ll have to postpone my visit…to later this month or another time. I’m sorry.” “Don’t apologize,” I answered with deliberate detachment. “You can’t help it, right?” “I’m sorry. I’ll call you again, okay?” “Bye.” I gave a short good-bye and hung up, then hurled my cell phone onto the bed. I let out a sigh at the same time. Tsukiho had told me she was coming to see me tomorrow, but she’d broken her promise. It was hard that that alone had upset me so much. My thoughtless reaction perplexed me. It was pathetic to have reacted like that. I was angry with myself. I shouldn’t really care, but I do. I don’t even actually want to see her; I don’t want her to come visit. And yet… …Argh, I wish she would just give it up already. Stop contacting me whenever she feels like it and leave me alone completely. That would be better. It’s stupid to get all worked up over this— It was about two in the afternoon when I finally managed to break out of my slump and leave bed. I hadn’t dozed off or anything, but my eyes were bleary, and my mind was hazy. In fact, my whole body felt sort of sluggish. I decided the first thing to do was wash my face again and started to head for the sink. That was when Mei Misaki showed up. “Are you in your apartment now?” Her call caught me off guard. I heard her voice on the other end— “I’m in front of your building; what number is your apartment?” 9 “I was in the area, so I thought I might try and stop by.” A brown checkered skirt and a white blouse with a dark-red, thin necktie. When I opened the door, Mei was there, dressed in her First Yomi uniform. She wasn’t wearing the eye patch today, so the blue “doll’s eye” wasn’t in her left socket. “Did I bother you by showing up out of the blue?” Mei asked. “No, not at all.” “Were you in the middle of an afternoon nap?” “No…” “Can I come in?” “Sure…please do.” Does the uniform mean she’s on the way home from school? But the high schools, at least the public ones, should be off on the second Saturday, just like the middle schools. I was a little curious about it, but I figured she had her reasons. It wasn’t a big enough deal that I was going to make a point of asking about it. More importantly—I glanced quickly around my apartment. I certainly hadn’t expected her to visit today, so even though I didn’t have that many things, they were scattered all over. I would have cleaned the place if I’d known she was coming, or at least tidied up better. But Mei didn’t seem to mind. She proceeded into the living area and took a seat on one of the chairs at the table without waiting for me to offer. “Hmm,” she remarked. “It feels more lived-in than I expected.” “I-is that so? Um, uh…” “I mean, Lakeshore Manor didn’t have that feel to it at all.” “B-but…” “Though that was only to be expected, of course.” Mei looked at me and narrowed her right eye quickly. “I can see that you’re living here all by yourself, Sou. That’s a relief.” “A relief?” “Mm.” She nodded slightly. “Knowing how you were three years ago, I always worry about you a little bit.” There was nothing I could say in response to that. I pulled two of the few remaining cans of apple juice out of the refrigerator and set them on the table. “Um, have a drink if you like.” “Thank you.” Mei took a can, opened it with the pull tab, and gulped down the juice. I tried to drink mine the same way, but even now, I was still feeling horribly nervous, so I could hardly taste it when I put it up to my mouth. “You know how there’s a café called Inoya nearby here?” Mei asked as I sat facing her from across the table. “Uh, yeah.” “I was just drinking tea over there a little while ago.” “Oh? Do you go often?” “I know the owner…but it’s been a while since I went.” “Huh.” “And while I was there, she happened to come in—Miss Akazawa. The cousin you introduced me to last week. She came in to buy coffee beans.” Wow, that’s a real chance encounter. They met while I was shut up in here, wallowing over something trivial. “She told me where this apartment building was. That’s how I found you…see?” I felt sort of embarrassed or like I wanted to redo this whole day. Letting out a short sigh, I took a little sip of juice. “Sounds like you’ve made it through the week all right,” Mei said. “Izumi told you that?” “Mm.” She nodded. “But she can’t let her guard down yet.” “Is that what she told you?” “It didn’t come out of her mouth, but I could tell ’cause she was on edge. I think she’s right to feel that way.” “It isn’t over, is it?” I murmured. “Why would it be?” At the very least, there were twenty-two days remaining in this month, today included. If we made it through “accident”-free, it would be proof that the current “countermeasures” were working as intended. I put an elbow up on the table, rubbing my bleary eyes with the back of my hand. Due to Mei’s sudden visit, I hadn’t had time to wash my face again. She gave me a once-over and asked, “You were in the middle of a nap, weren’t you?” “No, I definitely wasn’t.” “You’ve got bedhead.” “Huh? …Ah.” As I rushed to smooth down my hair, Mei smiled, then stared directly at me and asked, “Anyway, somehow you don’t seem to have much energy today. Did something happen?” I was about to answer that it was nothing, but I couldn’t get the words out right away… Before I could say anything, Mei added, “Like, maybe you’re missing your family in Hinami or something?” “No way.” The response rushed out of my mouth, almost reflexively. “Not at all, nothing like that.” “Hmm?” With both palms resting on her forehead, Mei stared at my face with her eyes upturned slightly. After two or three seconds of silence…she mumbled, “All right.” It felt as though she had seen right through me and read my inner thoughts. “Even after everything that’s happened, the woman in Hinami is still your real mother, right?” “That’s not really…” I frowned, shaking my head side to side, and Mei didn’t seem inclined to touch on the subject any further. She got up from her chair and looked around the apartment. “Where’s that doll? The memento of Teruya?” she inquired, softening her voice somewhat. “Over there… It’s in the bedroom,” I answered, rising from my chair as well. “I’ll get it.” 10 She was one of Kirika’s girl dolls. Uncle Teruya had fallen for her and purchased her after he saw her at a doll exhibition in Soabi. After being expelled from the Hiratsuka household, I’d brought her with me from the study in Lakeshore Manor. The figure had been sitting on top of a chest in my bedroom, so I moved her to the living room table, where I positioned her next to my PC, head turned toward Mei. She examined it with a bit of fondness in her eyes and mumbled, “This one’s not so bad.” I thought I saw a faint shadow flit across her face. “Are there some you dislike?” I asked. “Even though your mom made them?” “Dislike isn’t the word I would use…” Mei blinked, hesitating slightly. “The thing about dolls is that they’re ‘empty.’ They suck in all the thoughts of their creator and anybody who views them, but they’re still vacant. So…” So…? “To me, Kirika’s dolls are a little difficult… No, that’s not it; they’re, like, a little special. The long and short of it is that I don’t particularly care for a lot of them.” This was the first time I’d ever heard Mei talk about Kirika’s creations like this. As I fumbled around for my next statement— “How does it seem to you, Sou?” Mei asked me. “My relationship with her—with my mother, I mean?” “Ummm, well, that’s…” They didn’t appear to be the normal sort of parent and child, who got along well. But that said, they didn’t seem to be on bad terms, either. Mei always spoke to Kirika in strangely formal language, as if she was talking to a stranger, and she did the same toward her father, Mr. Misaki… When I floundered for an answer, Mei nodded to herself. “Mm. This isn’t something that I’ve talked to you about much, is it?” She stretched her right hand out toward the doll on the table, softly stroking its forehead with the tip of her middle finger. Suddenly, she looked up and stared me in the face as she asked, “Shall I tell you the story of my life? Will you listen?” 11 “I had a sister who was born the same time as I was—a twin. We were fraternal, but we looked a lot alike…” Mei Misaki quietly started telling me her story. She was right that I hadn’t heard much about her birth and upbringing or about her family and relatives. Of course, that didn’t mean I wasn’t interested. She just never seemed to want to talk about it, so I hadn’t felt like pushing the issue… That’s why I was really taken by surprise when she said the word twin out of the blue. “But she died before me, in April three years back. Of illness.” “…I didn’t know.” “That’s because the only person outside the family who knows is Sakakibara.” “Sakakibara… Uh, um, wait just a second!” I realized the significance of the timing of April three years back and gasped. “You can’t possibly mean… Did that happen because of the ‘calamity’ in ’98?” Mei looked like she was hesitating to answer for a moment, then nodded. “It did. I think it probably was because of that.” “But if I remember, in 1998…” “The ‘calamity’ started in May, is what everyone remembers, right? There’s nothing written in Mr. Chibiki’s file about the girl who died in April.” “Why?” I asked. “I was conflicted about it,” Mei admitted, “but in the end, I didn’t say anything, not even to Mr. Chibiki. And I got Sakakibara to agree not to mention anything about it to anyone, either.” “Why did you do that?” “Mm…my reason for that is…complicated.” It seemed like Mei was being terribly inarticulate. She saw me with my head tilted slightly to the side, and she tilted her own head in the same way. Then, confusion all over her face, she said, “Ah, sorry. I can’t explain this very well. Whenever I try, the words get all mixed up somehow.” “Huh.” I nodded slowly, and Mei continued. “Anyway…” But for some reason, she hesitated to tell the next part of the story. “So…” Another false start, and she failed to get going again. Finally, after a minute, she opened her mouth. “Mitsuyo Fujioka.” It was a name I was hearing for the first time. I tilted my head slightly. After showing me the characters that spelled Mitsuyo, Mei at last picked up. “Mitsuyo Fujioka. That person is the woman who gave birth to us, our mother.” I was taken aback yet another time. Without thinking, I asked, “It wasn’t Kirika?” Kirika’s real name wasn’t Mitsuyo; it was Yukiyo. And her last name obviously wasn’t Fujioka; it was Misaki. “Kirika—so, Yukiyo and Mitsuyo were also fraternal twin sisters. Mitsuyo got married first, to a young office worker named Fujioka. A little while later, Yukiyo married my father—Kotaro Misaki.” “So…” “We— The two of us were originally twins born to Mitsuyo, who married into the Fujioka family. In other words…” “You were adopted?” Mei was adopted out to the Misaki family—is that what she’s saying? “Right. Our family gave one of us to the Misakis. It happened when I was young, before I was really aware of what was going on, and they always kept it a secret from us. I was raised thinking of Mitsuyo as Auntie Fujioka and of my little sister as my cousin… I found out the truth in fifth grade of elementary school.” In a tone of voice that was detached and quiet to the end, Mei continued to reveal her personal history. “Grandma Amane let the truth slip carelessly, which shook me to my core. I wondered why they hadn’t told us all that time. My Misaki parents always doted on me and treated me like their own daughter, but still, you know…I had some mixed feelings, to say the least…” She told me the next part of the story. Kirika (Yukiyo) had gotten pregnant about a year after Mitsuyo had given birth. Unfortunately, however, it had ended in a stillbirth, and Yukiyo could not bear children after that. Her sorrow and grief had been unbearable. A plan was hatched to save her from her grief by allowing her to adopt one of the Fujioka twins. Consequently, it had been implemented… “…So that’s the story. Before I was old enough to understand what was going on, I had gone from Mei Fujioka to Mei Misaki. I still remember very clearly how flustered Kirika was when she figured out that I knew the truth.” Mei sighed briefly and looked at me for my reaction. I wasn’t able to respond at all, except to shake my head in an ambiguous way. “Even though Kirika claimed that she was planning to tell me when the time was right, after that, she strictly prohibited me from seeing Mitsuyo, or calling her, or anything. Same went for my sister. Just around that time, the Fujiokas moved to a place farther away in the city. Up until then, my sister had gone to the elementary school in the next district over, but after that, she was farther away… We contacted each other in secret, always without Kirika’s knowledge.” “Why was she like that?” When I voiced this naive question, Mei gave another short sigh and answered, “She was anxious.” “Anxious…?” “Probably, yeah. Worried that I would no longer be her little doll.” I was rather shocked by her blunt words. I let out a small noise of surprise. “Eh? Her…doll?” What does she mean by that? Adopted or not, Mei’s nothing less than Kirika’s daughter. How could she consider her a “doll” despite that…? “When I recall my emotions at the time,” Mei continued, ignoring my response, “I had all sorts of feelings about Mitsuyo, my birth mother, as you would expect. I understood the circumstances, but…but I wondered why they’d chosen me over my sister to send to the Misakis. I wondered how my mother—how Mitsuyo saw me now that I was older.” “Ah…sure…” I understand her feelings. At least I think I do. I nodded as an image of Tsukiho’s face flashed across my mind. “But I’m sure that Kirika was worried that I might have more contact with Mitsuyo because of those feelings. Anxious and probably afraid, too.” “How so?” “Afraid that I might want to return to the Fujioka family. Afraid that Mitsuyo might start wanting to take ‘her child’ back.” “…………” “I mean, that was nothing more than an unfounded worry of hers. I never really thought that hard about it, and I’m sure the same went for Mitsuyo and Mr. Fujioka…” Mei continued her story matter-of-factly. Her face was cool and composed, as though she was trying to keep her emotions in check. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I saw a faint shade of sorrow make it through, which saddened me as well. “But regardless, I think Kirika felt more anxiety than necessary…and because of it, she gave me those strict orders. Forget visiting the Fujiokas—she told me I was absolutely prohibited from having any contact with Mitsuyo or seeing her on my own.” 12 “And what about being a doll?” I asked, curious. “Kirika raised you, and she was afraid that her daughter might drift away from her, so she tried to keep that from happening—I think I get that. But where does the doll come in? She and Mr. Misaki saw you as their real daughter and really doted on you, right? But you said you were a doll… Is that all you are to her?” When I asked this, Mei drew her lips in a little bit and looked down. She extended her hand again toward the figure wearing the black dress sitting on the table and stroked its cheek with the tip of her finger, exactly as she’d done earlier. As she did, she mumbled, exactly as she had earlier, “I don’t dislike this one. Because she doesn’t look like me.” “Huh?” “She doesn’t look like me, right? That’s why.” When she said that, everything clicked. I’d seen a lot of Kirika’s creations, either at the “Blue Eyes…” gallery or the Misaki family’s vacation house in Hinami before arriving in Yomiyama. Sure enough, quite a few of them resembled Mei to some degree… “Do you hate them? The dolls that look like you?” “Hate… Not exactly, but I don’t like them much.” “Why not?” “Because…they aren’t me. I can tell.” “They’re not you?” I asked, not grasping what she was implying. “What, um, what do you mean?” “Those dolls, they’re not me; they’re the child who was never born—Kirika’s child. Even as she makes imitations of me, that is what she’s always seeking in the ‘emptiness’ of her creations. As far as she’s concerned, I’m not the ‘real thing’…I’ve always been a ‘substitute,’ a little figurine.” “But that means…” I got that far and couldn’t continue. I wasn’t sure how well I had understood Mei’s tale so far, but I could at least say that here was the source of the tension that I could sometimes sense between Mei and Kirika and Mei and Mr. Misaki. “What I’ve just told you is more or less the same thing that I confided to Sakakibara when we were third-years in middle school,” Mei continued. “I told him when we were at the boarding house during summer vacation. I had never spoken about it to any of my friends before then. And I hadn’t wanted to talk about it, either, but back then…” Mei’s third year of middle school—the class trip during the summer of 1998. And what happened that summer after I encountered her at Lakeshore Manor… “But listen, Sou.” She stared me in the face. “It’s been three years since that day. The circumstances have changed somewhat between then and now. And my feelings and my relationship with Kirika, I sense those have changed in due course, too.” “Is that…really true?” “I’m not as much of a ‘substitute’ these days.” “Really?” “I don’t want to say that I ‘grew up.’ I think there’s more nuance to it than that.” “Three years…huh?” “It’s the same for you, right, Sou?” I could sense what the question was insinuating. Three years. That’s right—that time passed for me as well as for Mei. And during that time, I’ve… I’m sure there have been some natural changes in me. Perhaps, like Mei, in my relationship with my mother, Tsukiho… Oh, no. No. I’m wrong about that, I think. “Also, this eye,” Mei remarked, pointing at her left socket with her right pointer finger. “I think I talked to you about it before, but I was four years old when I lost it. Kirika said that normal prosthetic eyes weren’t cute, so she made a ‘doll’s eye’ for me instead.” That beautiful azure glass eye. The one that supposedly held a mysterious power… “Have you noticed I hardly use it anymore?” she asked. “Uh…yeah,” I answered. “Do you want to hear why not?” “Uh, no.” I shook my head left to right, flustered. “Somehow, that seems like the sort of thing I shouldn’t be hearing.” “Oh? I guess most people would decline, huh,” Mei answered with a candid smile. “My left socket is empty, and it can’t see anything on its own. And yet, when I put in that ‘doll’s eye,’ I can see a kind of ‘color’ that normal people can’t perceive, don’t want to perceive… You remember me telling you about this, don’t you?” What she told me three years ago, that summer… Of course I remember. I couldn’t possibly forget it. I nodded forcefully, and Mei’s smile disappeared. “That’s why I used to wear an eye patch whenever I went outside. Because I didn’t like what I could see. I didn’t want to see that.” “…………” “But I did wonder if I should use a different prosthetic in place of the ‘doll’s eye,’ rather than hide it behind the eye patch. But no matter how much I thought about it, I couldn’t go through with it. I’m sure that was also part of Kirika’s spell.” “Spell?” “Or whatever. I’m exaggerating a bit, I think. She went to the trouble of making me that ‘eye,’ so…get it? It was like, if I switched to a different prosthetic, she would get mad, or it would make her sad, or something. I was convinced of that for so long, probably mostly unconsciously…but—” “But you did switch it to the ‘eye’ you’re wearing now,” I stated, turning my gaze toward Mei’s left eye. It wasn’t blue but black with flecks of brown… “When I started high school, I saved up my allowance and bought this one on my own. When I wear it, I can’t see ‘things that I shouldn’t see,’ so I don’t need the eye patch.” “And Kirika?” I asked, slowly and quietly. “Was she angry and sad?” “She didn’t say anything,” Mei answered, pouting ever so slightly. “Just that this one suited me pretty well, too.” “Ah…” I couldn’t help but sigh with relief. Though that probably didn’t mean that Mei’s fears had been groundless. I was sure that Kirika’s feelings had also changed with the passage of time. So… “I suddenly just started monologuing about myself… I’m sorry. I probably surprised you,” Mei said. “No!” I immediately shouted. “I’m sort of happy you did.” “Oh?” I don’t know whether it was purposeful or not, but Mei shrugged kind of rudely, then said, “As to the point of telling you that story now…well, you can interpret it however you like.” “Sure.” The melancholic mood weighing me down before Mei’s arrival had mysteriously vanished. Though that didn’t necessarily mean listening to her story had touched me so much that I was considering changing how I dealt with Tsukiho. Mei is Mei, and I’m me. And the circumstances of the Misaki household and the Hiratsuka household are totally different… Instead, I think I just was glad to hear her talk about herself. Since that summer three years earlier, Mei had always been “special” to me. It was an honor to have her open up to me about things she normally kept to herself. “I’ll go ahead and add that my Fujioka mother—Mitsuyo—has also gone through some changes in these past three years,” Mei continued. But in contrast to how she’d sounded before, her voice was quite frail and thin this time. “I don’t really know if it was a consequence of my sister’s death three years ago or not, but last year, she divorced my Fujioka father. My Misaki father was worried about her, so he took it upon himself to help her get remarried…” “…………” “……Ah, sorry, Sou. You didn’t need to know that.” “No, it’s fine, I…” “Aaah.” Mei stretched, something I rarely saw her do. Still sitting in her chair, she interlaced her fingers and pushed her arms up straight above her head. “I’d rather just not deal with it—family, blood relations, none of that.” Now that I thought about it, this was the first time I’d heard her say that. “But children can’t escape. And while they’re stuck, they inevitably become adults, too.” I never want to grow up. When I was in elementary school, at least until three summers ago, I had sincerely thought that. But now I wasn’t so sure. I didn’t know what to think. “Oh, that’s right.” Her tone shifted again. As I was wondering what it could be, she opened up the bag she had set down beside her chair and dug through the inside, then finally— “Here,” she said, holding something out to me. A white paper bag about the size of a student notebook. “I completely forgot to give you this. It’s a souvenir.” “A souvenir?” “You know, from my school trip to Okinawa.” Out of everything that had happened that day, this was probably the biggest shock of all. “Th-thank you,” I replied shakily, accepting the bag and peeking into it. “Can I open it?” “Go ahead.” Inside was a cell phone strap with a silver mascot charm on it. The character seemed to be designed after a legendary Okinawan beast, and it had a small green stone inlaid in its belly. “It’s a shisa lion, right?” “There were a lot that were too cutesy, so I picked one that was the least like that I could find.” “It’s really cool.” “It’s supposed to be a charm that wards off evil spirits. Well, it’s the thought that counts, right?” I laid the shisa charm in my open palm. On closer inspection, it was actually a little cutesy; it certainly wasn’t making a very dependable expression. I thanked her once more and closed my hand around it. “Hey, Mei?” For some reason, I suddenly got anxious. “Can I ask you something?” I didn’t particularly have to inquire about it right then and there. But I saw her nod silently, so I asked that question. “The younger twin who you talked about just now. What was her name?” And then— The world around us froze, suspended in time. Both her eyes opened wide, the living right and the false left. She didn’t blink once. She tried to move her lips slightly, then stopped. The upper half of her body was utterly motionless, so still that it seemed as though she wasn’t even breathing. Like some sort of strange stop-motion performance, the stillness persisted for three or four seconds. For some reason, I was acting the same way as I sat across from her… Five, six, seven, eight seconds it continued, until finally, at last, “Her…” Mei’s lips moved. “She was…” I was right in front of her, but it was like I was hearing her from some unfathomable distance. And although my apartment was bright during the day, it seemed as though her words were leaking out from the depths of some deep, dark place. No one else was in the room with us. And yet, it was almost as if someone was threatening her, preventing her from saying the words. With great difficulty, in a voice that was barely audible, Mei croaked out the girl’s name in a series of disjointed syllables. “Her name was……Mi…saki……Misaki.” And then she managed to tell me the characters used to spell it. The world went black for a moment. Just for an instant, accompanied by a deep, reverberating thud.