Chapter 143

Chapter 9 June II 1 No “related individuals” suffered any “accidents” during the third and fourth weeks of June, either. Three vacant sets of desks and chairs had become a fixture of the classroom—one belonged to Tsugunaga, the “casualty of May.” Another to Hazumi, who had still not returned to school. And the third to Makise, whose hospitalization was ongoing. Day after day, a frigid tension filled the air, and with each new dawn, it somehow faded in some ways but grew stronger in others. Mentally, part of me wanted to believe that the new “countermeasures” we had employed at the end of the previous month had been successful, while another part of me was growing more anxious about whether it had worked or not. This turmoil had always been lurking deep in my heart. Takanashi, who had lost her mother to an accident, came back to school after a little while. Even after her return, however, it was plain to see that she was in low spirits. That was only natural. I couldn’t imagine going to class feeling so much grief. They hadn’t really known Takanashi before everything that happened, but I did catch sight of Izumi and Etou and the rest trying indirectly to encourage her sometimes. From the third week of June, three-person meetings for guidance on post-graduation options began. The homeroom teacher, the student themselves, and a parent or guardian would convene for a conference after school. My turn came at the start of the fourth week. The person attending as my guardian was Auntie Sayuri. Ms. Kanbayashi had to treat me as if I “didn’t exist” at school, so the Japanese language teacher, Mr. Wada, served as a substitute. My aunt probably thought it was strange that she wasn’t speaking to my homeroom teacher, but Mr. Wada explained the situation away as a problem with Ms. Kanbayashi’s health, which Sayuri seemed to accept. I do want to go to high school, after all. To First Yomiyama Prefectural High School (the same as Mei) if possible. After some hesitation, I expressed this desire to my Akazawa aunt and uncle. As always, they told me that they would support me in whatever I wanted to do. They added that Tsukiho should have no problem with it, either. And since my teachers could attest that my academic credentials were solid, the discussion went quickly enough. However—and this time I had to reason with myself—however, that all depends on whether we make it through this year. To be honest, it all depends on whether I can avoid losing my life in the “calamity”—that’s the real question. 2 The renovation work at the Akazawa house was proceeding much more slowly than expected. It was supposed to be finished around the time I started my summer vacation. Grandfather, who was more or less confined to his bed in the back room, was moody as always and very displeased about the construction dragging on. Whenever I stopped by, however, he received me in fairly good spirits. Kurosuke, the black cat, also hadn’t changed much, and he would alternate among frolicking around, being annoyingly affectionate to the humans, and pretending not to know you when you called. After the renovations were complete, I would have to vacate my room at the Freuden Tobii and return here. Or so I’d assumed, but it turned out that Mayuko and her husband said that I could stay there longer if I wanted. “It’s up to you, of course, but you can do whichever you please, Sou. I’m sure Izumi would be happiest if you stayed here. Despite how strong-willed she seems, she tends to get lonely…” Why are my aunts, Sayuri and Mayuko both, treating me so kindly? Up until three years ago, I was just a nephew they scarcely ever interacted with, whose face they barely recognized. Considering this question made my mind wander to Tsukiho, who I could never manage to have a decent conversation with on the rare occasions that we actually spoke. Then I was the one who felt a lump in my throat. I hated it. During this period, the Akazawas invited me to the penthouse for dinner on two occasions. Auntie Sayuri and Uncle Haruhiko joined me on one of them. As for how the conversation went, the topic of my real father, Fuyuhiko, who had died long ago, came up for a while, but I was able to stay composed to a degree that left even me surprised. “If only such things wouldn’t happen,” Mayuko muttered. By such things, she meant Fuyuhiko’s death fourteen years earlier—death by suicide after a long period of depression—but even when she said it aloud, I was at a loss for how to respond. I couldn’t even remember the face of my biological father, much less make sense of any feelings I still had about him. I wouldn’t say that I felt absolutely no sadness or loss. Yet, I also could not deny that my feelings were somewhat…subdued. That was probably because I’d always thought of my maternal uncle Teruya as my real father figure. And I had said good-bye to him three years ago over the summer. That’s why… While at the penthouse, I once again peeked into the room belonging to Izumi’s older brother, who was staying long-term in Germany (his name was Souta, and he was twenty-five years old). At a glance, it was obvious that the room’s “owner” had been absent for an extended period of time; every nook and cranny was far too tidy. As Izumi had said, the bookcase filling one of the walls had a shelf jam-packed with mystery novels, both domestic and foreign. With Izumi’s encouragement, I borrowed several of them. One was Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose, parts one and two. It seemed difficult to understand, but I had always wanted to read it and had somehow failed to ever borrow it from the library. The other was a title I had never seen before and that didn’t seem much like a mystery, a book by Ágota Kristóf—The Notebook. 3 While all this was going on, June entered its final week. We just need to get through this week without incident—I’m sure that’s what everyone was desperately hoping. Me included, of course. If the week ended with no casualties, we could finally be certain that our new “countermeasures” were working. June 25, Monday. Thanks to a break in the rain, the weather had been fine all morning, without a cloud in the sky. I woke up even earlier than usual and spent the time before school taking a walk alongside the Yomiyama River. While I was there, I happened to encounter a kingfisher hovering above the river’s surface. I reflexively put my fingers together to form my imaginary viewfinder and recalled the last time I had sighted this bird by the same body of water. I had been with Yuika Hazumi, and our conversation had started to head in a direction I didn’t like… That was just past mid-April, yeah. Already two months ago…no, only two months ago. Had two months already gone past since then, or had it been only two months? It felt like both were true. Suddenly, I found myself wondering about what Hazumi had been up to lately. My feelings all out of order, I clicked my imaginary shutter to capture the kingfisher’s hovering, then realized my cell phone was vibrating in my bag. “Hey, morning!” As soon as I picked up, I heard Shunsuke Kouda’s voice on the other end. Without thinking, I asked, “What’s up? Why are you calling so early?” It was a few minutes past seven a.m. There was still plenty of time before homeroom started at 8:30. “And from where?” I continued. “Are you at home?” “No, I’m in the clubroom.” “Huh?” If I recall correctly, the school gates are supposed to open every morning at seven. If he’s in the biology club room already, he must have gotten in as soon as possible. It wasn’t unusual for Shunsuke to stop by the clubroom before school started, but this was ridiculous. The sports clubs aren’t even doing their morning training yet, geez… “I figured you’d already left home and were walking along the river right about now.” We had known each other for a long time, so Shunsuke had a good grasp on my morning routine. Still, why go to the trouble of contacting me now? I was soon given the answer to my question. “Do you think you could come to school now, too, and stop by the clubroom for a bit? I’m thinking about the Culture Festival. I figured it’s about time we discussed the biology club’s display…” “The Culture Festival’s in the fall, isn’t it?” “It’s better to start getting ready early.” “But there’s no reason why we need to have a meeting first thing in the morning like this.” “Come on—don’t say that. There’s no time like the present, right?” “…I guess so, but why are you there so early today, Shunsuke?” “Ah, that’s because—” As he answered, I could hear the rustling sound of him moving around. “For the last few days, Woo has looked kind of strange, like he hasn’t got any energy. I feed him, but he hardly eats, and his reactions are sluggish. I stopped in to check on him yesterday, too.” You mean the second wooper looper? “And of course, we just lost the previous Woo early on in the new semester. I was pretty worried, so I came to see how he was doing first thing this morning.” “Is he sick or something?” “No. When I fed him earlier, he gobbled it up, so he’s probably fine for now.” “Thank goodness.” “But you know, if the worst does come to pass, I’ll put all my heart into making a beautiful transparent specimen out of him…for sure this time.” Oh no, he’s on about that again. Just as I was about to voice my objection, Shunsuke let out a short yelp of surprise. “Wah! Wh-what’d you do that for?!” I heard static noise for a while, as if he was losing reception. Puzzled, I asked, “What happened?” “Ah, nothing,” Shunsuke answered evasively. “It’s nothing…” He got that far before letting out another short shriek. “Wah! Ah…owww!” “What happened?! What is it?” He didn’t reply. Instead, it sounded like his cell phone was being tossed onto a desk or something. I strained my ears as best I could, but I couldn’t tell what was happening on the other side. Then finally— “Ah man, he really got me!” Shunsuke’s voice came back to the phone. “What happened?” “Dude, for some reason the trapdoor on one of the plastic cages was open just a bit, and Toby escaped through the crack.” “What?” “I just caught him and put him back, but he bit me as hard as he could. It really hurts…” “Toby” was the name of the centipede we had captured and started raising last autumn. He was a Chinese red-headed centipede, fifteen centimeters long, with the characteristic reddish-brown cranium of his species (though his markings looked like more of a true red). Shunsuke had christened him. Despite being a member of the biology club, I wasn’t very good with things like cockroaches and stink bugs and maggots—“creepy-crawlies.” To say nothing of centipedes! Because of that, I’d been opposed to raising Toby in our clubroom. Even if centipedes weren’t technically insects. “Are you all right?” I asked. “Ugh.” Shunsuke made a pained noise but answered, “I’m fine. It hurts, though.” “You should go to the infirmary.” “It’s not open yet. I know how to treat this. He’s already bitten me once since we captured him, after all. I’ve got the steroid cream and everything.” “Are you really okay?” “Yeah, I’m all right.” “Well, at any rate, I’m headed to school now. It should take me about twenty minutes from here. Okay?” “I’m fine… Ah, owww!” I hung up the phone and put it back in my bag. The shisa lion phone strap I had gotten from Mei caught the morning light and sparkled dully. 4 I arrived at the south gate of the school about ten minutes later. I hadn’t been worried at first, but as I got closer to school, the anxiety in my chest gradually ballooned… At one point, I’d tried to contact Shunsuke, but— The call hadn’t connected. I don’t mean that he didn’t pick up. The ringtone never even sounded, and all I got was the standard message saying, “The number you have dialed is not available or may be outside the service area…” How can that be? Entering the school grounds, I crossed the side of the field to find people who belonged in sports clubs grouped up in twos and threes, engaged in their morning training. I headed for Building Zero. As I got closer, I picked up my pace, and by the time I could see the old school building I was aiming for, I was practically sprinting. I wasn’t in a rush to talk about the Culture Festival. No, my hurry was due to my increasing anxiety, an uneasy premonition that I couldn’t suppress… The shriek Shunsuke had given when the centipede bit him kept ringing in my ears. Thankfully, I’d never experienced a centipede bite myself, but the noise he’d made had certainly sounded like he had been in great pain. I could only imagine his wounded flesh, filled with venom. He said he’s all right, but if that’s circulating through his body… No, centipede venom shouldn’t be strong enough to kill someone, and Shunsuke said he knows the treatment for a bite. So I’m sure he won’t do anything rash. I’m sure he won’t but, if by some chance, something was to… Those were the thoughts racing around in my head. Nothing’s happened; I’m certain. At least, I want to be. I want to believe… Ah, I’m begging here—don’t let anything happen to Shunsuke! By the time I got to the front entrance of Building Zero, I was basically praying. “Hiratsuka?” Someone called out to me, and I leaped back in surprise. The voice belonged to none other than the master of the secondary library, dressed in all black despite the season—it was Mr. Chibiki. “What on earth is going on? Why are you rushing at this ungodly hour?” Of course, at this time of day, Mr. Chibiki had also just arrived, and I could see that he was carrying his old box-style briefcase in his right hand. “Going to clubroom. Biology club room.” Suppressing my impatience, I ground to a halt and answered him. Several beads of sweat trickled down my neck. “Shunsuke…Kouda is in there. And I’m worried about him.” “Worried?” Mr. Chibiki walked over to me quickly. “Did something happen?” “I got a phone call from his cell earlier, and…” “Kouda, you mean the club president?” “Yes. Shunsuke’s in Class 1, but his twin brother, Keisuke, is in Class 3.” As soon as I said that, Mr. Chibiki frowned sternly. “What? He’s a ‘related individual’?” “During our phone call, um…a centipede bit him, and he claimed he was all right. But, well…” I was in such a hurry that I couldn’t explain the situation very well. Mr. Chibiki urged me on sharply. “Let’s go.” Together, we both rushed into the annex and finally arrived in front of the door to the clubroom. Chu-chu, chu… The first thing I noticed was a high-pitched sound emanating from the other side of the wooden sliding door. What’s that? The hamsters we’re keeping in there? The noises were small, but I couldn’t help but feel uneasy when I heard them. The hamsters didn’t usually cry out like this. My fear doubled instantly. Ahhh, no way! Don’t tell me something really happened in there? Holding my breath, I pulled the door open resolutely. When I did and saw the scene inside the room— For a moment, I lost the ability to move. My throat seized up, and all I could choke out was, “Ah, ah, ah…!” “No!” Mr. Chibiki shouted, tossing his bag aside and darting in. “Hey! Are you all right?” It took me a moment to follow him into the chaos of the biology club room. The beige curtain over the main, south-facing window was still drawn. Under the pale light of the fluorescent bulbs overhead spread a disastrous scene. When you entered the room, there were several open steel racks against the wall to your right. One of them had fallen over. It had crashed into the edge of a large desk nearby and come to rest at a sharp angle. All the miscellaneous stuff that had been on the shelves—instruments and containers, bottles, cans, cardboard boxes, books and notebooks, paper filers, and so on—had broken loose or been flung away to scatter across the room. We’d set many of the tanks and cages that we used for raising creatures on the big desk that the rack had toppled onto; now they’d either been shattered by the items that had fallen off the shelves or had fallen off the desk and onto the floor. A number of the tanks had been filled with water, so the desk and floor were soaked. The fish, frogs, newts, and other creatures that had been kept in them had also spilled out… The fish couldn’t breathe and were flailing about, gasping for air, while the frogs, newts, and other amphibians who had gained their freedom were all trying to escape. The lids had come off the plastic cages used for raising insects when they had been thrown off the desk, so there were all sorts of bugs and spiders about as well. The tank where the grass lizards and skinks were being raised had broken, and they were already nowhere to be found. The hamster cage was on a separate table some distance away, so its occupants had escaped the danger, but two hamsters inside had been screaming noisily out of either excitement or fear ever since we’d arrived… …and in the middle of this disastrous scene was Shunsuke Kouda. I couldn’t tell for sure just what had set this all off, but in any case, Shunsuke was currently slumped over on top of the desk with his face stuck in one of the shattered tanks. Mr. Chibiki had already rushed over to him. “Hey! Kouda!” He put his hand on Shunsuke’s shoulder. “Kouda… Oh, this is bad!” “—Shunsuke!” Finally, I found my voice. Taking care not to tread on the fish or other creatures lying all over the flooded floor, I approached my friend. “Ah…Shunsuke…” He had collapsed into the tank where we’d been keeping Woo, the axolotl. Though destroyed, there was still some water left in it…which had been dyed a sickening crimson…bloodred. I wondered whether he’d sliced his neck open on the broken glass when he fell on the tank. “Shunsuke?” I called his name, but there was no answer. My eyes, which had been darting around in a panic, landed on the bodies of one of the creatures lying on the ground. On a pitiful pink lump of flesh… So this is Woo, huh? He must have been carried out of the tank along with the water before Shunsuke trampled him by accident… “Kouda!” Mr. Chibiki called out to the boy again, but there was no response. No sound and no movement… Actually, his right arm, which was dangling limply at his side, was twitching ever so slightly. Mr. Chibiki put his arms around Shunsuke’s torso from behind and tried to pull his top half upright. “Give me a hand!” he barked at me, and the two of us pulled his body away from the desk to lie him down on the floor nearby. The wound in his neck looked deep. He was stained red with the blood flowing out of it, from his face, to his neck, to the collar of his shirt and down his chest. His glasses were also soiled with blood, and I couldn’t tell whether his eyes were open or not behind them. “Hand me that towel,” Mr. Chibiki commanded. “H-here,” I said and handed it to him. He pressed the towel against Shunsuke’s neck. Before my eyes, a red stain spread out across it. For a second, Shunsuke’s legs shook weakly as he lay stretched out on the floor. “Hey, hang in there! Hey!” As he was talking to him, Mr. Chibiki put his ear close to his mouth. “Shunsuke…” I squeezed Shunsuke’s hand. He didn’t have the strength to squeeze mine back. He felt incredibly cold, maybe because his hand was wet or maybe… “Don’t die!” “He’s still breathing. Call an ambulance,” said Mr. Chibiki. “Dial 1-1-9. Can I trust you with that?” “Yes!” Still holding Shunsuke’s hand, I searched for the whereabouts of my bag, which had my cell phone in it. I’d lost hold of it as soon as we’d entered the room. “Don’t die.” I mumbled the same words again and let go of his hand. As I did, his legs trembled once more… …Shunsuke. I dashed toward my bag, nearly falling, and fished out my cell phone. It can’t be… Shunsuke, are you dying? Are you going to die like this? The crimson staining his cheeks made me recall the sight of the blood gushing from Tsugunaga’s neck in the rain one month earlier. That day, Shunsuke had happened to witness the accident with me and had called the ambulance himself. And now… …Are you dying? Is it you this time? You were talking to me so normally just thirty minutes ago. I shook the thought out of my head and tightened my grip on the phone. But my fingers were shaking, so I struggled to dial the numbers. Just then, something caught my eye. Something small and black was crawling from Shunsuke’s feet toward his belly, where he was laid out on the floor… Is that a bug? One of the crickets he was keeping as live bait for the reptiles? On closer inspection, I could see that there were several of them. Their cage had fallen off the desk, and the lid had come open, and now several of the escaped crickets were crawling over his body… I think that sight was probably what triggered me. In that moment, the seal on a small box in a corner of my mind was broken. When it did, everything that had been stowed away in there came spilling out… …Someone’s corpse, lying on a filthy sofa. Rotten skin. Rotten flesh. Rotten innards… Countless squirming, swarming insects. The repulsive horde of vermin streamed out of my memories and into my current reality. From my mouth. From my nose. From my eyes. From my ears. From every pore in my skin. Then they crawled toward Shunsuke’s body in droves, clambered up onto him, and dragged the boy who was on the border between this world and the next definitively down into “death.” “Ahhh, stop it!” I gasped weakly. Though I hadn’t accomplished my goal, all the strength left my hands, and I dropped my phone. My whole body began to tremble violently; then I lost my ability to stand and dropped to my knees on the floor. As my breathing became strained, a bout of dizziness assaulted me. “Hiratsuka?” It was Mr. Chibiki. He had noticed the state I was in. “What is it, Hiratsuka…?” That’s as far as I remembered clearly. I’m sorry…Shunsuke… I fell facedown on the spot, swallowed by hopelessness. As I fell, my consciousness receded from the “present.” 5 I would later find out that Shunsuke Kouda, who had been taken to the hospital by ambulance, was confirmed dead at about nine o’clock that morning. When the paramedics got to him, he was still barely breathing, but his heart and lungs had failed in transit. They tried everything they could to resuscitate him, but in the end, they were fruitless… A little past noon, I was informed of the truth as I lay in a bed in the infirmary on the first floor of Building A. Mr. Chibiki broke the news to me. Apparently, I had collapsed in the clubroom and been carried to the infirmary, where I had opened my eyes once or twice but never fully awakened. I’d been dozing there since. It had felt as though I’d been having the same bad dream over and over, but I couldn’t remember anything about it now. “I’m so sorry,” I apologized as soon as I knew it was Mr. Chibiki sitting on the stool next to my bed. “It was such a critical moment, and I—” “Don’t worry about it.” He shook his head slowly from side to side. “Sure, it was a serious situation, and I was surprised when you collapsed all of a sudden, but that’s what shock does to people. No one is blaming you.” “…………” “After you passed out, another teacher noticed the commotion and came to help. I got him to look after you while I ended up riding along in the ambulance to the hospital. I spoke to the head physician while I was there…” Shunsuke’s immediate cause of death was blood loss. Just as I suspected, the wound in his neck had been as serious as it looked. “But they think that something might have been wrong with Kouda even before the accident. That’s what the doctor’s examination said.” Another cause? Something wrong? Without lifting the back of my head off the pillow, I tilted my head quizzically. I was still in a bit of a daze, but one thing suddenly came to mind. Another cause…? Could it be…? “Is it possible that…the centipede bite somehow…?” “That’s right.” Mr. Chibiki frowned grimly. “I told the doctors what you’d said about the centipede. And they confirmed that there was a bite mark on his right hand. They said it was possible that Kouda went into anaphylactic shock.” “Anaphylactic…” “It’s when the whole body has a violent allergic reaction. The immune system runs wild in response to foreign matter entering the body and experiences symptoms akin to an infection.” “Ah, yeah, that’s…” I already knew the basic definition. The first thing that came to my mind when I heard anaphylactic shock was what people said about beestings: that the second is always more dangerous than the first. People normally get away with just some pain and irritation the first time they’re stung, but then they’re sensitized to the bee venom, so the second time might produce a life-threatening allergic reaction. I’d read a short novel a year or two ago in which a killer used this trick to commit murder. “But wait, can that happen with centipede venom?” “Apparently, there’s a slim probability it can, yes. They said it’s a one percent chance.” “I know that Shunsuke was bitten by a centipede once last year. Was he sensitized because of it?” “It’s possible, yes.” Mr. Chibiki sighed. “Bee venom is famous for causing anaphylactic shock, but it doesn’t necessarily always happen on the second sting. Apparently, there are plenty of instances when someone dies from the accumulated effects of getting stung several times in the past. But with centipede venom, there are unfortunately too few cases, so a lot is still up in the air.” “Did they find something that made them doubt their findings?” “They said they couldn’t confirm without a more detailed investigation. But—” Mr. Chibiki got up from his stool. “It’s undeniable that a centipede bit him right before he passed. Furthermore, there was visible swelling that they thought could be traces of hives all over his body. And here’s what I told the doctor: If we put together the clues from the state of the room and the details of the incident we can deduce from that, then…” “The details of the incident?” “What happened during the half hour after you spoke to Mr. Kouda on the phone. It’s practically impossible that he simply knocked over the shelf by accident and broke all the tanks, isn’t it?” “Uh…right,” I answered frailly. Mr. Chibiki put a finger against the frame of his glasses and stared at me. “Let’s say that immediately after he hung up the phone with you, he started to show symptoms of anaphylactic shock from the centipede bite. When that happened, if it was a bad case, his blood pressure would have dropped drastically in a short time, and this would have caused difficulty breathing. Once that started, his symptoms would have progressed to full-body convulsions and loss of consciousness. Though it’s impossible to know how severe his symptoms actually were or how well he understood what was going on… He probably felt suddenly unwell and couldn’t stand, and maybe he tried to use his cell phone to call for help, but his fingers were shaking, so he couldn’t work the buttons…” “Where did they find Shunsuke’s phone?” “In the tank that he crashed into. He must have dropped it when he was fumbling with it. It was soaked and unusable.” As I was listening to Mr. Chibiki tell me this in a detached yet despondent tone— The scene from earlier that I really would have preferred not to imagine was playing out in my mind in disturbingly vivid detail. Images of Shunsuke after I hung up the phone, right after he said, “I’m fine… Ah, owww!” Pressing down on the wound where he’d been bitten by the centipede, starting to pull medication out of his bag. Then the symptoms of anaphylactic shock setting in. I pictured him noticing the strange itchiness of the hives as they quickly spread across his body, after which his arms and legs starting to go numb. With his blood pressure dropping suddenly until he couldn’t stand, he desperately clung to one of the open racks for support. I saw the rack falling and everything sliding off it, destroying the tanks and other stuff on the desk. Shunsuke had escaped being pinned between the rack and the desk but still couldn’t get to safety. Even when he pulled out his cell phone to call for help, he dropped it in the water and panicked. And then— Shunsuke unknowingly trampled Woo, who’d fallen onto the floor after pouring out of his broken tank. It was the worst thing that could have happened, for both boy and axolotl. Shunsuke slipped, making him lose his balance, and the momentum sent him plunging headfirst into the broken aquarium tank, where he collapsed… A torrent of blood gushed from his throat where the glass had cut him. As this was happening, the physical symptoms of anaphylactic shock were also overtaking him. Breathing was difficult, his blood pressure was dropping further, he was losing consciousness… “…Ohhh,” I groaned, unable to stand the thought. It was getting hard to breathe. I felt like the air in my chest was being pumped out of me. “Why that, of all things…? Is that something that would normally happen…?” “It’s apparently a highly improbable, unfortunate chain of events…yes. You’re right,” Mr. Chibiki answered me. He pushed his glasses up on his forehead and pressed on the inner corners of his eyes with his right thumb and forefinger, moving his fingers to massage them. “But you know,” he continued, steeling himself and speaking as if he were wringing the words out, “something that seemed like it would almost never happen did actually happen. And tragically, he was drawn in to ‘death.’ This is exactly the kind of ‘accident’ that the ‘phenomenon’ would bring about.” 6 It was a decisive comment. An “accident” produced by the “phenomenon.” That’s right. That’s what befell Shunsuke this morning—because he was “related” to Grade 3 Class 3… “Mr. Chibiki.” I lifted my head from the pillow and propped myself up. I was still having difficulty catching my breath. “Shunsuke—Kouda’s really dead, isn’t he? He’s not coming back, right?” Mr. Chibiki nodded silently. “And was Keisuke also at the hospital?” “His younger twin brother? Yeah. He got the call and made a mad dash over to the emergency room. Their parents showed up soon after him.” “…………” “The parents were heartbroken, of course, but his brother was especially distraught…” Mr. Chibiki described how Keisuke had clung to the corpse and broken down crying. “Why you?!” he’d asked. Why Shunsuke, who’d been in a completely separate cohort from the “cursed Class 3”? It must have felt cosmically unjust to him. “You guys,” Mr. Chibiki said. He wasn’t addressing me. There was a white curtain on the opposite side of the bed to where he was sitting on his stool—to the left from my perspective—drawn around the foot of the bed. I looked up at it. Is there someone else here? Just then, it dawned on me. From the way he called them you guys, he wasn’t speaking to the teachers who staffed the infirmary. It was probably students, several of them… “It’s all right already. Come on out here.” In answer to his request, the curtain swayed slightly. I could see someone’s silhouette on the other side of the white fabric. Just as I noticed that, the curtain slid smoothly open. Two people, with whom I was very well acquainted, entered—Izumi Akazawa and Nobuyuki Yagisawa. They took a step or two toward the bed but didn’t look me in the face. They didn’t speak to me, either. Their expressions conveyed confusion and dismay as they cast their gazes toward Mr. Chibiki, who was standing at my bedside. “It’s all right now,” he repeated with a faint sigh. “It’s as you just heard. Kouda’s sudden death this morning was the result of the ‘calamity’—of that there is no doubt. So in other words—” Mr. Chibiki cut off and glanced at Izumi, Yagisawa, then me in turn. “In other words, the ‘calamity’ that began last month is still going on. We haven’t ended it.” Upon hearing this news, Izumi looked him squarely in the face and asked, “Does that mean there’s no point in keeping up with the current ‘countermeasures’ any longer?” “Unfortunately, yes.” Mr. Chibiki wore a severe expression. “I cannot help but arrive at that conclusion.” “Ah…” Izumi bit her lip in vexation. Standing next to her, Yagisawa had a similar reaction. There was an even longer pause before the two of them at last fixed their gazes on me. In response, I finally opened my mouth and said, “Looks like it didn’t work out, huh?” I felt just as frustrated as Izumi… I was overwhelmed with an enormous sense of helplessness. These were the first words I’d spoken to either of them in school since we’d begun the initial “countermeasures” back in April. “It didn’t make any difference, no matter how well I kept ‘not existing.’” “I guess not,” Yagisawa said in a dejected voice. “We don’t need to do that anymore, huh? This year’s ‘countermeasures’ are through, I guess. So this is what it means to exhaust all your options.” “…Seems that way.” Trying to get out of bed, I pushed aside the terry-cloth blanket that had been laid over me. My body felt unsteady again. “So now that we know the new ‘countermeasures’ had no effect…at this point, it doesn’t seem like there’s much more we can do,” Yagisawa remarked, addressing Mr. Chibiki this time. The librarian couldn’t really give him an answer. His severe expression remaining unchanged, he sighed deeply, then shook his head slightly. I heard the sound of the infirmary door opening, and soon a new person appeared at my bedside. It was our homeroom teacher, Ms. Kanbayashi. She looked at the four of us, three students plus Mr. Chibiki, in a way that told us she had realized herself that the “countermeasures” were now meaningless. “You’ve had such a difficult time since April.” She spoke to me, wearing a somewhat awkward smile. “I think you really made a very good effort, Hiratsuka. But starting today, you won’t need to be a ‘non-exister’ anymore, okay? You can be like everyone else, even in the classroom…” Despite what she was saying, in the moment, all I could hear was her blaming me. Why on earth did it have to turn out like this? The unanswerable question looped through my mind again and again, and all I could feel was darkness swallowing my heart. 7 Two days later. Wednesday, June 27. Shunsuke’s funeral was held at the funeral hall in a neighborhood called Furuchi. At Ms. Kanbayashi’s behest, I was granted a half day’s leave from school so I could attend. I wasn’t a classmate of his, but I was there as a representative for the biology club, which he’d led. We’d known each other for only a little more than two years, but during that time, we had gotten fairly close, so I was there as a friend as well. In a total contrast to the mild weather two days ago, it had been raining nonstop since morning on the day of the funeral. Besides me, a number of other students in North Yomi uniforms also attended. They were probably all students from Shunsuke’s class, Grade 3 Class 1. The Class 1 homeroom teacher was also there, and Mr. Kuramochi, the adviser for the biology club, came, too. So did Mr. Chibiki. Avoiding all of them, I sat in the very back corner of the funeral hall. It was like I was still pretending that I “didn’t exist.” Once the priest started to chant, I intentionally shut my eyes and refused to open them again. When I did, almost as a matter of course, I recalled the last time I’d heard Shunsuke’s voice on the phone. I recalled the disastrous scene in the clubroom… …That day. I had spoken with Mr. Chibiki in the infirmary, but I didn’t remember much after that. No, it wasn’t that I didn’t remember; it was more like everything was distant, unreal, like I was somehow separated from that reality. Like a degraded black-and-white recording, nothing was clear… …That day. After it happened. It was normal in circumstances like these for the police to come and examine the scene. They’d questioned me about what had occurred as a witness to the accident. Mr. Chibiki sat with me during the interview… I just answered everything truthfully, although neither he nor I said a word about anything related to the “phenomenon” or the “accidents.” If we had tried to tell them, the police wouldn’t have been able to do anything. Not to mention the fact that they probably wouldn’t have taken us seriously in the first place. Ultimately, I didn’t end up going back to class at all that day, opting to head home early… Auntie Sayuri looked awfully surprised when she heard about everything. She already knew about last month’s casualties—Tsugunaga and Takanashi’s mother—so…so I suppose it was only natural that in addition, she felt suspicion, anxiety, and fear along with the shock. That evening, Izumi came over to my apartment and talked to me about a bunch of stuff, though I didn’t feel like chatting. But all her topics were completely unrelated to the “phenomenon” and the “accidents”… I was sure she was trying to cheer me up. Despite her efforts, I still didn’t feel like saying a word… I was largely dissociated, hardly paying attention. The following day—a Tuesday—I was in absolutely no mood to go to school, so I spent almost the whole day shut up in my room. The entire time, it felt as though I kept repeating an unanswerable question, Why? while fully aware that there was no explanation to be had. Why on earth did it turn out like this? Why? Just why, why, why…? If only I’d been smarter when everything was going on in April. My heart was full of regret, guilt over something that I could no longer do anything about. If only I had done a better job… Couldn’t I have done something to keep Hazumi, the “second non-exister,” from quitting like that? I mean, I didn’t feel the same way about her that she felt about me, and I’m really bad at dealing with that kind of stuff…but maybe I should have just played along anyway, kept her from feeling so isolated, like there was no alternative… I had these thoughts and many more, even though I knew that all this musing was utterly pointless. But somehow, I spent the whole day doing nothing. I didn’t feel like doing anything, and I passed the time alone and depressed. Izumi was worried and came over to my apartment to check on me, but I didn’t open the door. I also got a phone call from Yagisawa, but I didn’t pick up… When the night grew late, I finally booted up my PC and managed to send Mei an e-mail informing her of Shunsuke’s death. That was all. I actually would have preferred to talk to her on the phone or go see her, but my heart felt so weak that this was totally out of the question, so I gave up on the idea… …The funeral chanting came to an end. The atmosphere in the funeral hall was dark and oppressive, and I could hear sobbing everywhere. Opening my eyes decisively, I squeezed both hands tightly into fists on my knees. Our club adviser, Mr. Kuramochi, had informed me of the time and place for the funeral via a phone call that came late the night before. —I thought I’d better let you know so you can attend if you want. I’m planning on going, too. When I’d heard his message, I finally started to pull myself together a little bit; I felt myself coming back to the “present.” The undeniable truth was that Shunsuke Kouda was dead. And we had to mourn the dead properly. I needed to be present to mourn Shunsuke and give him a proper good-bye. And so… My experience three years earlier at Lakeshore Manor, or the memory of it, was whispering to the recesses of my heart. I went up to light the incense and bowed to Shunsuke’s family, who were sitting in the seats reserved for the bereaved. His parents looked absolutely exhausted, and beside them, his brother, Keisuke, was wearing silver-rimmed glasses just like Shunsuke’s, instead of his usual contact lenses. It was the first time I’d ever really noticed that their complexions looked exactly the same. As I was facing the portrait of the deceased, I choked back the tears that threatened to overcome me. The death of a friend was devastating, but I didn’t want to cry there. After all, three years ago, when Uncle Teruya passed, I… Shunsuke’s joke from an earlier moment suddenly rang in my ears. “If the worst happens to you, I’ll scoop up your remains and put you with the rest of the specimens, okay, Sou?” It felt as though he were actually speaking in my ear. Without meaning to, I looked at the portrait. Shunsuke smiled back bashfully from a photo in a lovely green frame. Now that he was gone, the biology club would be all but defunct for a while. As club president, Shunsuke had planned most of the important club activities himself. However— There was the question of what to do with the creatures we had been rearing in the clubroom, aside from the ones that had escaped, died, or gone missing during the incident two days earlier. That was a big problem. What should I do? Of course, there was no way I was getting an answer to this question. Good-bye, Shunsuke. Closing my eyes softly, I bid farewell to the eccentric head of the biology club. 8 I watched the row of black cars leave the funeral hall, headed for the crematory. When I powered up my cell phone again, I found two voice mail notifications. The first one was from Tsukiho. Ugh…of all the times to call, it had to be today. —Ah, Sou? It’s me. I’m really sorry that I couldn’t make it the other day. She probably doesn’t even know about Tsugunaga’s death last month or Shunsuke’s passing two days ago. Actually, it’s possible that she heard about them from Auntie Sayuri, but even if she did, she probably doesn’t care that much. —Mirei’s totally recovered already, so I thought we could come have lunch or dinner with you soon. Maybe next Sunday… It’s already July, but I’m planning to come see you with your sister. I’ll call you again with the details, okay? Without meaning to, I let out a sigh. At this point, what feelings does she actually hold for me? What’s she thinking? What does she want? ’Cause I sure don’t know. No, honestly, it’s less that I don’t know and more that I don’t care. The second message was from Mei Misaki. She’d left it a little before eleven in the morning. She called me from school, during a class break? —The head of the biology club, Mr. Kouda… Sou, you two were close, weren’t you? It was a small reassurance to hear her speaking to me the same way as ever… —I’m sure it’s a big shock and very painful, but hang in there. …Ah, thank you. Thank you, Misaki… Thanks, Mei. “Thank you,” I said aloud without realizing, my voice cracking with emotion. —It looks like all your “countermeasures” have failed in the end, but…you can’t blame yourself, Sou. It’s no use. Okay? No matter how much you torment yourself, nothing will come of it. Just like that summer three years ago, Mei seemed to be peering straight into the contents of my heart. —E-mail is fine, but call me anytime if you need to. You can come for a visit, too, or I could go see you again. Listen, Sou, even if the “countermeasures” have failed, there’s still… At that point, some awful static cut in, and the message broke off. 9 I was planning to attend classes in the afternoon, so once I’d listened to my messages, I left the funeral hall and headed for the school. I got off the bus from Furuchi and walked a short distance, but just as the North Yomi school gates came into view— My phone rang. I checked the display and saw it was coming from Mr. Chibiki, who I had just seen in front of the funeral hall. We had exchanged silent bows before parting. “Where are you right now?” he asked the second I picked up. “At…school? I’m just about to get there.” “I see.” I noticed that something was odd about the tone of his voice. It was slightly shrill, somewhat shaky… “What’s up?” I asked. “Well…” Mr. Chibiki hesitated briefly but immediately checked himself and continued. “As a matter of fact, I just got an urgent call from Mr. Oohata, the teacher for Class 1. It’s hard to believe his account, but it seems to be true. One of the cars that just headed for the crematory was involved in an accident on the way, on one of the mountain roads…” Mr. Chibiki told me that at this point in time, the cause wasn’t clear. Maybe the driver had simply made a mistake in operating the steering wheel or brakes. Perhaps the accident had resulted from a run-in with another car or something. Or maybe it was more of an act of God… The car had broken through the guardrail on the mountain road, fallen several dozen meters down a cliff, and gone up in flames. There had been four people in the car: the driver and three passengers—Shunsuke’s parents and twin brother, Keisuke. Of all the people it could have been, it was those three… Several hours later, the blaze was finally extinguished, and the four occupants of the vehicle were all deceased. A subsequent investigation determined that the driver and Keisuke Kouda, who had been sitting in the front passenger seat, had died almost instantly on impact, from concussive force to the head and body. Tokuo and Satoko Kouda, who had been riding in the back, had burned to death in the fire after the fall.