Chapter 148

Chapter 12 July II 1 The rainy season ended, and summer truly began. It was July 26. The long first semester was over, and three days after the start of summer vacation, I completed my second move of the year. It was another small one, from unit <E-9> in the Freuden Tobii to the Akazawa main house, where I had lived previously. I hadn’t accumulated much in the way of personal possessions during my time in the apartment, just shy of four months since moving in in April, so as before, we didn’t have to hire any movers, and I carried my own things over. Yagisawa generously helped with anything that was too heavy to move on my own. We carried the last of the boxes into the room that had previously been my bedroom-cum-study. Everything was brand-new. Even the wallpaper and flooring had been replaced. Both of us sighed, glad to be done, and moved into the living room, where the air-conditioning was running, to rest. Auntie Sayuri brought out some ice-cold ciders to reward us for our hard work. “You must be tired, boys. Thank you for helping out these past few days, Yagisawa dear. I’m sure it was hard work.” “No, no, I’ve got plenty left in the tank!” He gripped both ends of the towel that was hanging around his neck and puffed out his chest. “Thanks for the cider,” I said. “I’ve got ice cream—would you like some?” “Oh, sure!” “Wait a minute, okay? You’ve been hard at work, so I’ll make you my special parfaits.” When the month started, I had expected to be able to move back to the Akazawa house by the beginning of summer break, after the remodeling finished up. However, on the evening of the 5th, there was the incident with the tree in the garden and the death of my grandfather Hiromune. It had taken a long time to repair the ruined sitting room and torn-up garden, delaying my plans to move back. Haruhiko and Sayuri had asked me to wait until that work was finished before moving back. Natsuhiko and Mayuko over at the Freuden Tobii had also said that as long as I was all right with it, I could remain there for several more months. But as grateful as I was, a feeling had been growing inside me that told me I shouldn’t remain there any longer than I had to. So I’d pushed the issue with Uncle Haruhiko and Auntie Sayuri and gone ahead with the move. As long as I was in the room in the Freuden Tobii, it didn’t matter what I did; I kept remembering her—Izumi Akazawa, who no longer existed in the “present” in this world. And they weren’t just memories. My mind kept producing visions of things that shouldn’t be there. That was sad and scary… After drinking my cider in one big gulp, I left Yagisawa behind in the living room for a moment. I soon returned, carrying a bag that I had tossed into my room along with the moving boxes. “Hey, so here.” I set the thing that I’d pulled out of the bag in front of Yagisawa. It was a miniature album that I had filled with the photos from a single roll of film. “Hmm?” Yagisawa seemed slightly confused, but once he looked inside, he mumbled, “Ah, from that time,” and stroked his scraggly beard. They were the photos we had taken in front of the lotus pond in the courtyard after school, on the 4th of this month. The “commemorative photos” that Yagisawa had originally suggested. It had taken me a long time to send them out for developing, after everything that had happened, but I’d finally convinced myself to do it. The album started with some two-person shots of Yagisawa and me, then Izumi and me, several of each in a row. Next came solo shots of each of us and then several group shots of Yagisawa, Izumi, and me from when I had gotten Ms. Kanbayashi to use up the rest of the roll. However— “These are the commemorative photos of the two of us from that day, huh? Hmm. I guess we didn’t capture any of the lotus pond hands?” Yagisawa spoke very naturally as he turned the pages of the album. “Just how many of these did we ask Ms. Kanbayashi to take?” Ah…I thought so. Although his response was what I’d expected, I shook my head, feeling like it was too much to handle. As I suspected, Yagisawa couldn’t see Izumi in the photos. The only people pictured were him and me. As far as he was aware, at the photo shoot that day, there hadn’t been three people, only the two of us. When Izumi, the “extra person,” disappeared, every memory of everything having to do with her had been rewritten, for the sake of consistency. “What’s up, Sou?” Yagisawa was looking at me quizzically. “Why do you look like…? Oh! Could that be it? Do these pictures actually show that girl you mentioned—your cousin Izumi Akazawa or something?” “Yeah,” I answered with a sigh, “good guess.” “I can sort of tell.” “You can tell, like, intellectually?” “Sort of. Can you see her? In these photos, I mean.” “Yeah.” I sat down next to Yagisawa, picked up the album, and opened it again with my own hands. “The first pictures of us weren’t taken by Ms. Kanbayashi; Izumi took them for us. And the next ones were two-person shots of her and me that you took, but…you can’t see her, right?” “Right. I only see you by yourself, Sou.” Yagisawa blinked on the other side of his round glasses for a while, then hummed, “Hmm…now that you say it, the composition is kind of unnatural. When you think about it, there’s too much open space to your left.” “That’s where she’s standing.” I informed him of what I could see with my very eyes. “We only got our teacher to take the last few. They’re pictures of the three of us lined up together. Izumi’s in the middle, and you and I are standing on either side. You can’t see that, either, can you?” “You and I are the only ones in the picture…but there is an awful lot of space between us, isn’t there? Unnaturally so. And the one before that, with no one in it, that one, too?” “Mm.” “I see. Is that so…?” Even though he was nodding, Yagisawa had a confused look on his face. “So you can really see her, for real?” Izumi was there in the center of the photograph, standing between Yagisawa and me, dressed for summer and smiling cheerfully. I didn’t know how she had felt at heart, whether she had actually been happy or how happy she had been. She’d had no idea that the very next night, she would learn that she was the “casualty”… “I can see her. I can still see her,” I answered and placed the album on the table. “It’s because I was at the scene that night. I’m sure that’s the reason why.” Right. I can still see her. But at some point, it’ll happen to me, too—there will come a time when I won’t be able to see Izumi, either. “Hmm.” Yagisawa hummed again. He looked confused. He took off his glasses and used his towel to scrub the area around his eyes dry. “But you know, no matter how you explain it, it doesn’t feel real at all. I don’t mean to say that I don’t believe you, but, how can I put this, um, it sounds like you got bewitched by a fox or something, you know?” I had disclosed more or less the whole “truth” about this whole affair to Yagisawa early on. I had told him about the “method for stopping the ‘calamity’” that Koichi Sakakibara had told me about over the phone and about the extraordinary “power” that Mei Misaki’s “doll’s eye” possessed. I had shared how Mei had used that “power” to determine that Izumi was the “casualty.” But as for the details of Izumi’s “death” on the night of the 5th, how, after we’d told her that she was the “casualty,” she, in her confusion, had fallen from the Izana Bridge into the Yomiyama River…that was the only thing I didn’t tell him. Honestly, I didn’t want to talk about it at length, and I didn’t feel like it was something I should really tell anyone anyway. Yagisawa hadn’t asked for too many details. His memory had already been rewritten after the disappearance of the “extra person,” so from his perspective, my story didn’t fit with “reality” very well. It must have sounded ludicrous. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Here you go—please eat up!” Before long, Auntie Sayuri brought in some extravagant handmade parfaits that lived up to their reputation. Her eyes stopped on the album on the table. “Oh, photographs?” She peered over our shoulders at the last page of the album, which was sitting open where we had left it. “You took them at school, I see. Recently?” Auntie Sayuri was of course in the same situation as Yagisawa. She could see only the two of us in the photos. Izumi was invisible to her. That’s consistent, I thought. Sayuri already knew “Izumi Akazawa” as her “poor niece who died three years ago” and nothing more. 2 The evening of July 5, after Izumi had been swallowed up by the muddy waters of the Yomiyama River— The first confirmation I got that “Izumi Akazawa” had vanished from this world was on a phone call to Auntie Sayuri. I’d called her almost immediately. She was with Uncle Haruhiko, at the hospital where they had taken my grandfather. When I had asked her what I should do, she’d answered anxiously, “For now, you should go back to your apartment. It’s getting late, and the weather’s bad.” She had sounded like she’d regained her composure considerably. “Mayuko and her husband are also at the hospital now. Sou, you don’t need to come here tonight. I think we’ll be able to bring Grandpa home tomorrow.” When I had heard that much, I’d blurted out, “Um, listen, Auntie. Izumi just…” I had stopped before saying anything more. There was no way I could have said what I had been about to say. Even if I had said it, it probably wouldn’t have made a bit of sense. I knew that was the case, but I was driven by the feeling that I had to say something about Izumi after what had just happened. However— “Izumi…?” Auntie Sayuri had sounded slightly surprised or maybe bewildered. There had been a short silence. During the pause, I’d wondered how Sayuri was processing my words in her mind. “When Izumi passed away, you were still in Hinami, Sou. Even though you were cousins, you never had a chance to meet except when you were babies.” The tone of Sayuri’s voice had changed a little, and it wavered with a quiet sadness. That’s how it had seemed to me. “She passed away three years ago this summer, but after that, you came to stay with us… Grandpa seemed happy about that. I’m sure he was glad to have one of his grandchildren nearby…” The following afternoon, on the 6th, the body of my grandfather had been returned to the Akazawa house. The corpse was temporarily installed in a large room that had just been converted from tatami mats to conventional flooring during the renovations, and it was there that I saw my grandfather’s dead face. The moody expression he’d worn in life had been nowhere to be seen, and as the saying goes, he’d looked to be resting in some kind of peace. I remember feeling not so much sad as having a strange sensation like my head was going kind of numb. At that point, Natsuhiko and Mayuko had also come over to the Akazawa house, probably to discuss the dates for the wake and the funeral and whatnot. Haruhiko and Sayuri also had to think about the arrangements for the cleanup and repairs from the fallen tree. Among the four adults, not one had thought anything of Izumi’s disappearance the night before. All of them remembered her as simply “a person who died three years ago.” In other words, it was proof that returning the “casualty” to “death” had been a success, but— I had caught sight of the black cat, Kurosuke, in the hall outside the big room. He must have sensed somehow that the atmosphere in the house was not normal, because he had been pacing restlessly up and down the hallway. Sometimes he would stop and give a long cry in a feeble voice. As I sat there watching him, I’d suddenly remembered something. I’d remembered what had happened on the evening of the 3rd, when Izumi and I had gone to visit Grandpa, just the two of us. While we were there, Kurosuke had scratched Izumi’s hand, deep enough to break the skin. At the time, I had wondered why he would suddenly do something like that, despite being normally quite attached to Izumi. What was that…? The moment was long past, but I remember thinking it over anyway. Kurosuke had been at the house for many years before I showed up. He had known Izumi, who lived just nearby, for a long time, since he was a kitten, and it was only natural that he would have gotten very close with her. But three years earlier, Izumi had died. And then, that spring, she had reappeared. Kurosuke had remembered Izumi, even though there had been a three-year gap, so he’d cozied up to her as always. However, perhaps Kurosuke had secretly sensed that something was off—that there was something wrong with this Izumi, that she was somehow different than before. Perhaps that’s what had caused his sudden confusion that night. I suppose that cats might have a special intuition that humans lack? No…maybe it’s that the “memory alteration” caused by the “phenomenon” doesn’t work on nonhuman creatures, so… “Meow,” Kurosuke had cried as he’d snuggled up against my leg. When I had leaned over and patted his back, he’d rolled over on the spot and looked up at me, as if to ask what was going on and what had happened. 3 “Miss Akazawa was a classmate of mine in Grade 3 Class 3 three years ago.” It was the day after my grandfather’s return when I had heard that line from Mei Misaki—the afternoon of Saturday the 7th. “She was a countermeasures officer three years ago, too. And she became the female class rep after Sakuragi died in May…” Mei had invited me upstairs in her house in Misaki. The gallery had been undergoing an interior redesign at the time. I’d visited the third floor many times before; it was still the same spacious living and dining area that never really felt like a home. Mei and I had sat facing each other across a low glass-top table. “The night before last, after Miss Akazawa fell from the bridge, my real memories gradually came back to me. They were shrouded in a thick fog this whole time, but it was like I wasn’t even aware of the fog itself… Then the fog began to thin, and I could see things that had been hidden—that’s what it felt like.” Mei had been wearing a short-sleeve white blouse. Unlike the previous time I’d seen her, she hadn’t been wearing her “doll’s eye” in her left eye, so she hadn’t had her eye patch on, either. “I went to sleep that night, and when I woke up, I remembered pretty much everything. All my memories seemed absolutely normal, and I had no sense of unease. I think I felt like this three years ago, too, after the ‘casualty’ disappeared, though my memories of that time are a little fuzzy now.” Mei had spoken quietly, staring at a point in space above the table. “How about you, Sou?” “Same for me.” I’d nodded slowly, looking toward the same point in space as Mei. “I remember how I had a cousin, who died the month before I was taken in by the Akazawas three years ago. She was three years older than I was, her name was Izumi, and she was in Grade 3 Class 3 at North Yomi. I told you this already, didn’t I, Mei?” “She died during the class trip in August, right? One of the victims of the ‘calamity’ that year.” “That’s right. But starting in April, my memory of it completely…” “Vanished. It was altered. It wasn’t just the two of us—it happened to the memories of all the people connected to her.” “And the physical records were altered, too, right? Like the class roster and photographs. And Mr. Chibiki’s file.” “All our original memories of Miss Akazawa were altered, yes. In their place, the ‘fact’ that ‘Miss Akazawa exists as a member of this year’s Grade 3 Class 3’ was put into the record, to keep things consistent…” “And into our memories.” “Right.” Several scenes had been restored in my mind, instances that had completely vanished from my memory until two days earlier, when they’d all come back to me completely. For example— On April 9. The morning of the opening ceremony. I had left my apartment and headed for the elevator lobby, where I’d looked at the door of unit <E-1> across the hall. Now, what was this room? The question had flicked through my mind as I’d stared at the door with some confusion… But almost immediately, it had occurred to me that the room belonged to my cousin, Izumi Akazawa; that she was the same age as I was; and that she’d been living alone for a while. My memories had been altered to conform to this new “false reality.” It must have been just that morning when Izumi made her “appearance” as the “extra person” in Grade 3 Class 3. Up until the night before, she hadn’t existed in this world, and <E-1> had been an empty apartment with no one living in it. And then, that same day, in the classroom after the opening ceremony— “For now, everyone, let’s take our seats,” I had heard Izumi say, and of course I had wondered who the owner of that voice could be. But sure enough, almost immediately, I had somehow recognized her, even though that was the very first time I’d even met “Izumi Akazawa.” In that very instant, I’d known her, known that she was one of the female students who had been selected to be a countermeasures officer during the “strategy session.” Of course, Izumi hadn’t actually existed back in March, so obviously she couldn’t have participated in the “strategy session,” but the alterations to my memories stretched far back in time… The same thing must have happened to the memories of everyone in that classroom that day. “Thinking back on it now,” I had said, talking to myself as much as Mei, “there were a number of things that felt kind of strange but otherwise seemed fine at the time.” “Like what?” Mei had asked. “Ummm…” I’d faltered briefly, then said, “Izumi…Miss Akazawa, she was in the drama club, and she said something to me about quitting to make room for the younger generation once she started third grade. But that girl Hazumi…” “The girl who took on the role of the ‘second non-exister,’ right?” “Right. She was also in the drama club until last year and told me she had quit going. If they were in the same club, then the two of them should have been acquainted with each other, right? And yet…” At the beginning of the semester, Izumi said that she’d never met Hazumi before the third grade, that it was her first time speaking to her. I wonder why I didn’t find that suspicious at the time. Maybe something was keeping that from happening. “There’s something else I’d like to confirm with you, Mei. Do you remember when you first met Izumi in your basement here? I stopped by on my way home from the hospital, and she followed me in…” Mei had closed her eyes softly and nodded. “Yes. It was around the start of June, right?” “When she came in, you stared intently at her face and mumbled her name… It was like you were trying to remember something important. That’s how it looked to me anyway. How did you actually feel at the time? Do you remember?” “I do remember. Now I do.” Mei had opened her eyes and answered, “When I saw Miss Akazawa’s face, I think I must have realized I had met her somewhere before. But I only felt like that for a second. I immediately changed my mind and decided I was imagining it…” “…I knew it.” That had brought back the low, reverberating thud in my head, but at the time, I had smoothly brushed it off. If I remember right, when they first met, Izumi looked at Mei with surprise and confusion. Was that…was it because Izumi had the same sensation as Mei? I wonder if the “casualty” can remember anything from when they were alive, even if it contradicts the alterations made to the “present”…? I hadn’t been able to shake that troubling thought. “Three years ago”—I’d continued with my questions—“when you and Izumi were in the same class, what kind of…? Ummm, were you friends? What kind of person was she?” Mei had tilted her head slightly, looking uncomfortable, and gone silent for a while. As I was starting to worry that I had asked a bad question, Mei had finally answered in her usual detached tone of voice. “I didn’t have any friends.” A sad, lonely smile had spread fleetingly across her lips. “So I have no idea what kind of person she was.” “Ah…okay.” “But listen, Sou.” “Yes?” “Even though she was resurrected by the ‘phenomenon,’ her basic personality and other traits shouldn’t have changed that much, so…” At that point, Mei had stared directly into my face and said, “So, you know, I’m sure that Miss Akazawa was exactly the sort of person you felt her to be, while you were interacting with her these past three months.” 4 My grandfather Hiromune’s wake was held on Sunday the 8th, and his funeral was Monday the 9th—that’s what had been decided during the discussions on the 6th. I hadn’t been privy to all the exact details. In any case, because of the scheduling, I’d had the whole day on the 7th free. Feeling very restless, I had reached out to Mei. As the only two people in the world who knew the “truth,” I had wanted to get together to talk and confirm all the “facts.” I had also wanted to ask her opinion on what I was supposed to do next. Two days had gone by since the stormy night when “Izumi Akazawa” had disappeared, and the weather had fully recovered. The sky was clear and blue, without a single bit of cloud floating in it. But in my heart, I’d still felt as if the furious rain and wind continued to simmer and rage. “What about Tsukiho?” Mei had asked. “Is she coming for your grandfather’s wake and funeral?” “Who knows?” That was the best answer I’d been able to come up with. “She hasn’t said anything, and I haven’t contacted her.” “Your aunt and uncle have probably told her.” “Probably. But I haven’t said anything…” “Don’t come to Yomiyama. “Don’t ever come here!” The last thing I’d said to Tsukiho on the phone, at the end of June. “Listen to me. I never want to see your face again. I don’t want to spend time with you, and I don’t want to hear your voice. “I hate you!” I honestly had no regrets about saying those things. Even if it means I never see her again, that’s okay with me. That would be just fine. Rather than worrying about anything to do with Tsukiho, my thoughts at the time had been consumed by Izumi, who no longer existed in our world. I had only actually known her for three months, my close cousin. The “world” had returned to the way it was supposed to be after she was gone. But to me, it all felt like something was terribly wrong… “So with this, the ‘calamity’ for this year has stopped, right?” I’d confirmed with Mei again. “My grandfather was the last to die, and after this, it’s over…?” “That’s right.” Mei had nodded slightly but decisively. “There’s nothing more to worry about.” “My Akazawa aunts and uncles don’t seem to remember anything about the ‘Izumi Akazawa’ who showed up this year, so their memories are totally back to normal. Same goes for Yagisawa and Ms. Kanbayashi, who called to check up on me yesterday.” “You and I are the only ones who remember both versions of Miss Akazawa, from three years ago and from this year, Sou.” “Seems that way.” “It’s the cruel privilege granted to people involved with the disappearance of the ‘casualty.’” “The cruel…?” “But you know, sooner or later, we’re going to forget, too. No matter how much you try not to, it’ll happen eventually.” Mei had leaned back against the sofa and let out a short sigh. She’d fixed her gaze on that spot in the air above the table again. To me, it seemed like she had discovered a tear in the fabric of time that would connect us to the past, right in that spot. After that, there had been another brief silence. “Um…so,” I’d spoken up, “how do you think I should tell the rest of my class that the ‘calamity’ is over?” It was a question I had been struggling with since the previous day. I hadn’t even said anything to Yagisawa yet, even when he’d called me. “Like, should I explain the situation during homeroom or something? But I wonder if everyone will understand if I do that?” Of course, I had no intention of talking about the “power” of Mei’s “doll’s eye” or about the specifics of what had happened that night, even if I did tell them. So then, when it came to how I ought to explain the “circumstances,” I just couldn’t see a way forward. “I don’t think you need to go out of your way to do anything in particular,” Mei had answered matter-of-factly, extending her right pointer finger and placing it against her temple. “If you leave it alone, the truth will become clear on its own. Once no ‘related individuals’ die in August, then it will be obvious.” “That’s certainly true, but…but…” “But?” “I keep thinking about everyone’s feelings, not knowing that the ‘calamity’ is over. And we’re going into summer vacation, too. Surely it would be better if everyone could start their summer break with a little peace of mind.” “I see,” Mei had mumbled, removing her finger from her temple. “Everyone, huh?” she’d mumbled again before blinking slowly several times and then looking me right in the eye. “You’re very thoughtful, Sou.” “No, not really…” “At any rate, no new ‘accidents’ are going to happen, so it’s up to you what you do. You don’t have to do anything, but you can if you want.” Think for yourself and decide. So that’s what she’s telling me? That’s what I had understood her to mean, and I’d nodded wordlessly. Then a voice had come from the door of the room. “Oh, welcome, Sou.” Kirika’s voice—I’d recognized it right away. “It’s terrible what happened at the Akazawa house. I heard about your grandfather’s passing.” When I stood up, Kirika had come closer to me, frowning with concern. “Is it all right for you to be over here today?” “The wake is tomorrow. Even if I was at the house now, there would be nothing I could do.” “I see. I fixed the chain on your bicycle downstairs.” “Oh, thank you very much.” I had encountered Kirika several times in that house since coming to Yomiyama, and she gave off a very different impression there than when I had met her at the Misaki family’s vacation house in Hinami. She was several years older than Tsukiho but had sharper features… That hadn’t changed, but at the vacation house, she had been “the wife of Kotaro Misaki” before anything else, while there in Misaki, she was more like “the doll artist Kirika.” During the day, she usually shut herself up in the studio on the second floor, immersing herself in her work. In her atelier, she exclusively dressed in casual clothing, plain shirts and jeans. She also often had a bandanna wound around her head, and that was the case when she came in that day. “It’s been several months since I’ve seen you, hasn’t it, Sou? I hear things from Mei sometimes.” Kirika had always behaved very cheerfully and gently toward me whenever we’d met. I had often sensed a slight affection as well. The Misaki family has been friendly with the Hiratsuka family for quite some time, so she must know all about my circumstances, the fact that I was driven out of that house… Actually, it’s probably exactly because she knows that she’s so kind to me. “Sou, would you like to eat dinner here before you go home? We can get something delivered.” “Oh, no, that’s…” “Please, it wouldn’t be any trouble.” “It’s not, but that’s…” During this exchange, Mei had been sitting on the sofa with her knees pulled up, silent. She had idly looked at the ceiling, then turned her eyes toward the window, which had its white roller curtain drawn down… Watching her out of the corner of my eye, something had suddenly started to bother me. “Um…Kirika?” I had asked. “Have you been having some kind of health troubles lately?” “Huh?” Kirika had tilted her head quizzically. She’d looked me directly in the face and inquired curiously, “Why do you ask that?” “Ah, ah, um…I saw you several times at the hospital.” “The hospital?” “Um…s-so I thought…” As I was stammering, Mei had stood up from the sofa. “Mother…,” she had called out to Kirika—as if to interrupt our conversation. Why’d she do that? What’s going on all of a sudden? “It sounds like Sou has to get going soon,” Mei had said, approaching Kirika. “But before he goes home, he wants to see the dolls, since he came all this way. Even if it’s just the ones in the basement, you said earlier…right?” She’d thrown her gaze over to me. In her expression, I had read the message, Do as I say, and nodded, trying not to look surprised. “Oh, is that so?” Kirika had raised both eyebrows, puzzled, but when I’d agreed without a moment’s delay, her face had softened into a smile. “You’ve always loved the dolls, haven’t you, Sou? That makes me happy.” “May we go see them?” “Of course! There are still construction workers on the first floor, so don’t get in their way, all right?” 5 In the end, Tsukiho hadn’t come to Grandpa’s wake or funeral. I didn’t know how much of an effect it had had on her when I’d told her not to come to Yomiyama or to talk to me again. But after being left a widow by her first husband, Tsukiho had pulled away from the Akazawa family and remarried, becoming a part of the Hiratsuka family. Her relationship with my grandfather had never seemed especially close, so I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t show. And fortunately, if the Akazawas had any complaints about the situation, they never made it to my ears. At the funeral hall, as the deceased’s grandson, I had been seated in the corner of the relatives’ section. I’d worn my school uniform, with a mourning band around my arm. I had felt very sad throughout the mourning ceremony. I’d tried asking myself once again why I was feeling sad, and what I was most sad about, but hadn’t really come up with an answer. After the funeral, everyone had traveled together to the crematory, and along the way, I’d thought about the tragedy that had befallen the Kouda family the month before, and the sadness in my chest had ached terribly. Of Auntie Sayuri’s two daughters, the younger one who lived in Okinawa (her name was Midori, and she’d changed her surname to Shukawa after marriage) had rushed to Yomiyama the day of the wake. Apparently, the older daughter, Hikari, who lived in New York, hadn’t been able to find a way to get back to Japan in time. The day after the funeral, Mayuko’s son, Souta—Izumi’s older brother—had arrived from Germany. Mayuko had introduced me to him. That night was the first time I’d met Souta face-to-face. “I guess I was already out of the country by the time you came to Yomiyama, huh, Sou? I probably met you when you were a baby, but… Well anyway, nice to meet you, I suppose.” He was average height, with a slim build and brownish hair. He had a smooth, fair complexion and wore elegant rimless glasses. Souta gave off quite an intellectual air, and unlike Izumi, he wasn’t a brisk talker. He strung his words together at a slow, deliberate tempo. “I’ve heard a few things about you from my mom, Sou. It sounds like the situation at home is pretty complicated. I hope I’m not overstepping when I say that you have my sympathy.” “Not at all… Thank you very much.” “Come on—you don’t need to be so stiff. We’re cousins, after all.” Souta was twenty-five years old, Izumi’s older brother by ten years… No, Izumi’s original age was the same as Mei’s, so if she had lived, she would have been eighteen this year. That meant that she and Souta were siblings separated by seven years. I’d been borrowing the refrigerator and some books from Souta’s room. Mayuko was the one who had recommended it… That was the story now. I had been invited up to the penthouse of the Freuden Tobii, into the living room. Mayuko had set out coffee and cake, and the coffee had tasted like that Inoya blend that Izumi had liked. “What kind of books did you choose?” Souta had asked. I had answered his question frankly. “Ha-ha! Eco might be a little difficult for someone in middle school, huh?” he’d remarked. “Well, he’s worth reading even if it’s a lot of work. Agatha Christie might be good.” “Yes, very good. It’s my first time reading a book like that.” “I’ve got tons more interesting books, too. You can help yourself, okay? “I wonder if this is what it would feel like to have a little brother?” Souta had suddenly mumbled between sips of his coffee. His narrow eyes had seemed somewhat lonesome, or nostalgic maybe. “If Izumi were here, I’m sure she’d be all excited.” Souta’s words had caught me off guard. “Ah…um…” Against my better judgment, I’d asked, “Were you also in Germany when Izumi passed away?” Souta had bitten his lip slightly. “Ah, about that. When it happened…well, back then, I just barely missed the funeral. Just like now, it happened really suddenly, so…” He’d bitten his lip a little harder. “It’s been three years since then, huh? I think you came here right after that, Sou.” “I came at the start of September.” “Right.” Souta had downed the rest of his coffee, then leaned back very deeply on the sofa. Running his fingers through his hair, he’d sighed. “I wonder what she thought. About me…” He’d sounded like he was talking mostly to himself. “Ah, um…” For some reason, I hadn’t been able to hold my tongue. “This is a strange question, but, um…did you go see Jurassic Park with Izumi a long time ago?” “Hmm? Yeah, I think I did.” Souta had narrowed his eyes again. “How do you know something like that, Sou?” “Well, um, I heard about it from my aunt…” There was no way I could have told him the truth. The first Jurassic Park movie had opened to the public, as Yagisawa had said, “a real long time ago.” Specifically, in the summer of 1993. Eight years ago. I’d gone back and checked the dates. Eight years prior, Souta had been in his second year of high school. Considering how old “Izumi Akazawa” was when she was resurrected, she would have been just starting elementary school when they’d gone to the theater together and he’d bought her that dinosaur figurine. Just six or seven years old—perhaps a little young to go along to see Jurassic Park. If any of this had occurred to me back when Izumi had told me about it, I might have realized that something strange was going on. Or maybe there had been something keeping me from realizing it. “I heard you’ve been staying in one of our apartments since this April, Sou.” “Yes. The main house was under renovation, so I’ve been here while that’s going on.” “My mother and father were happy to have you. I heard all about it on the phone. I’m sure they’ve been lonely ever since Izumi passed. They’ve even left the room that she was using on the fifth floor just as it used to be. It’s great that you came to stay…” “No, don’t thank me. I just accepted their hospitality.” “That’s not true. Their oldest son hardly ever comes home, so I’m grateful to you, too, Sou.” “…………” “I’m heading back to Germany already in a few days, but if there’s anything you want to talk about, you can get in touch with me. Do you use e-mail?” “Yes.” “Okay, take this,” Souta had said as he handed me a business card. Then he’d crossed his hands behind his head and slowly glanced around the room with a somewhat troubled look on his face. “Honestly, even though three years have gone by since Izumi died, it still doesn’t feel real, man…” Afterward, as I was stepping out of the elevator back down on the fifth floor, the door of <E-1> had caught my eye. It was the apartment that Izumi had once actually used. The morning of the opening ceremony in April, “Izumi Akazawa” had appeared in that room. It had been left exactly as it was when she died three years ago… Right. That night, she came out of this apartment carrying three big garbage bags. And… “My room was a total mess. I had so many things I didn’t need. I promised I would take care of keeping the place clean, but…man, it turned into a dump before I knew it.” That’s what she said. Thinking back on it now, that was… It was because no one had lived in the apartment for three years—it had been abandoned. So over the years, it must have been filled up with all sorts of things that the newly resurrected Izumi “didn’t need.” The room would have held all her school textbooks and notebooks and stuff, and maybe a photo of her set up as a portrait of the deceased, as well as probably all sorts of incense and incense holders. Izumi must have seen all this as insignificant clutter and thrown it away. And back then, without having the slightest clue, I’d helped her do it. I had warily approached the door to <E-1> and, after a few moments standing there, suddenly heard something—the faint sound of a piano. My breath had caught in my throat. This sound…is it coming from the room on the other side of this door? And this tune…this is Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata,” the one Izumi played? It can’t be… No, don’t be stupid. Squeezing my eyes shut, I’d tried shaking my head as hard as I could—and the sound of the piano had in fact vanished immediately. Of course. Obviously, I was just imagining things. Some kind of auditory hallucination perhaps? But that was not the only time it happened. And every time, a scene that shouldn’t have been possible had surfaced in my mind…of Izumi still in that room, playing that piano…and I had to fight to stave off the panic. 6 On my first day back at school after my bereavement leave, I had gone to the secondary library during lunch to see Mr. Chibiki. Mei had said that it was up to me to decide what to do next, and after some thought, that was what I’d chosen. I had come right out and said it, straight to the point. “The ‘casualty’ who joined our class as part of this year’s ‘phenomenon’ was ‘Izumi Akazawa.’” At first, Mr. Chibiki had clearly looked bewildered. “What’s this, all of a sudden?” By that time, the existence of that year’s “Izumi Akazawa” should have already disappeared from Mr. Chibiki’s memory. “Akazawa…if I remember correctly, she was a student in Grade 3 Class 3 three years ago.” It was the response I had anticipated. His memory had once again completely reverted to how things originally were. “She was one of the people who died in the ‘calamity’ three years ago, right? She was also my cousin, three years older than me. And ‘Izumi Akazawa’ was resurrected as a member of Grade 3 Class 3 this year. As my cousin still but the same age as me. She was one of the countermeasures officers, so you spoke to her many times as well…” From Mr. Chibiki’s current perspective, this must have all sounded quite impossible. On the other hand, he must have realized that I wouldn’t have come to him like that without a good reason. “Last Wednesday, on the night of that big storm, she fell into the swollen Yomiyama River. I was there; I witnessed it.” Mr. Chibiki hadn’t said anything. A deep vertical wrinkle had carved its way across his forehead. I’d held his gaze, unwavering, and continued. “When it happened, she was swallowed up by the river’s muddy water… I think she died. And then that was the turning point, and this year’s ‘Izumi Akazawa’ disappeared from the memories of everyone who had anything to do with her. From the class roster and all the records, too, instantly, from everything. Even her mother and father and everyone in our class, no one remembers this year’s version of her. It’s the same for you, right, Mr. Chibiki?” “…………” “So that makes me certain that she must have been this year’s ‘casualty.’ I only seem to remember because I witnessed her ‘death’ that night.” I had decided to try revealing the “truth,” up to a point, to Mr. Chibiki at least. As he had been observing the “phenomenon” for many years, I’d thought that perhaps he would understand. That was what I’d decided. Mei had told me that I didn’t have to do anything, but of course there was no way I could let it go without trying something. If Mr. Chibiki wouldn’t listen to me at all, then I would figure something else out. I could try a different plan, or I could give up and do nothing. “So…,” I’d continued. “So the ‘extra person,’ the ‘casualty,’ has disappeared from this world, and everyone’s memories have gone back to how they were before the changes—which means that this year’s ‘calamity’ is now over, right? That’s what I think. Just like three years ago.” That was probably the first time I’d ever spoken so directly and forcefully to a grown adult. “Three years ago?” Mr. Chibiki had grumbled, then held his tongue. He’d placed a finger on the dark-green frame of his glasses and squeezed his eyes shut tight behind the lenses, keeping them closed for a little while…then finally— “I remember hearing a similar story three years ago, too,” Mr. Chibiki had said, opening his eyes abruptly. “That year, over summer break…yes, that year, I heard something from Sakakibara, who I believe you know.” “Ah…” “Back then, he also said that he thought the ‘extra person’ for that year had disappeared. You know about the incident that took place on the class trip that summer, right? About the murders, and the fire…and the theory that the ‘extra person’ also died in the uproar? We suspected that was why the ‘calamity’ stopped.” “What about the identity of the ‘extra person’?” “That’s…” Mr. Chibiki had faltered, placed a hand on his forehead, and let out a troubled sigh. “I don’t think I ever heard from Sakakibara, but…no, these memories are probably not reliable anymore. Regardless of whether he ever told me or not, I don’t remember now. The ‘phenomenon’ can do that sort of thing, you see.” “Sure.” I knew all about that. “Therefore, I think there’s value in listening carefully to the story you just told me.” Mr. Chibiki had taken his hand off his forehead and sat up straight. “As far as I can tell, you’re very calm. I don’t think you would be able to speak that way if you had merely had some delusion.” “Right.” “Three years ago, as Sakakibara said, the ‘accidents’ stopped after the disaster on the school trip. From September on, there wasn’t a single victim… I hope that is the case this year as well.” “I’m sure that everything is okay now.” Mr. Chibiki had held his tongue again. Then, after a while, he’d finally nodded. “Hmm. All right.” “So…” “For now, I’ll take this to Ms. Kanbayashi and consult with her. We’ll have to see what she says, but we might be able to tell your class that the ‘calamity’ is over…” However, after that— Before Ms. Kanbayashi could deliver her judgment, a rumor had started spreading among the students in the class that the “calamity” was already over. There were too many desks in the classroom (since Izumi Akazawa’s disappearance). As soon as someone had noticed the discrepancy, people had started speculating that the “extra person” was no longer with us… During the latter half of that week, we had finished the end-of-semester exams without any trouble (my scores were terrible, no surprise there…). Finally, after the weekend, during Monday morning’s homeroom, Ms. Kanbayashi had made her announcement to the entire class. It was possible, she’d said, that the “phenomenon” for the 2001 school year was already over in July. If that was the case, then we didn’t need to worry about any new “accidents.” 7 By the way… A lot had happened over the past few weeks, but one thing in particular stuck out, and I couldn’t get it out of my head. Again and again, I kept ruminating on my visit to Mei’s house the night before my grandfather’s wake, how she’d suddenly interrupted my conversation with Kirika, practically forcing us apart. Afterward, at Mei’s urging, the two of us had gone straight to the elevator at the back of the room and taken it down to the showroom in the basement. “Thanks for playing along. I’m sorry to do something like that so suddenly,” Mei had apologized. Then she’d lowered her voice to a whisper. “You saw her at the hospital?” she’d asked, referring to my exchange with Kirika upstairs. “My mother…Kirika. When did you see her?” “Uh, it was…” I’d hastily searched my memory. “It was on my way home from counseling…I think around the middle of April. We crossed paths in the entry hall of the hospital. The next time was at the bus stop in front of the hospital. And then again at the end of last month, right before I ran into you and we went up to the roof of the hospital ward.” “You just saw her, right? You didn’t speak to her?” “Right. She didn’t seem to notice me. But…that’s why I thought she might be unwell, receiving treatment at the hospital.” “…I see.” Mei had moved quietly through the cellar-like basement, then stopped in front of the beautiful, conjoined twin dolls, the ones that had been there forever, and turned to look at me. “Sou, the person you saw was not Kirika.” “Huh? But I was certain…” “I’m sure that she probably looked similar, but it was a different person.” Mei had lowered her voice even more as she continued. “That person is…” It had not occurred to me before that very moment that the woman I’d seen at the hospital might not have been Kirika but someone who looked a lot like her. I’d recalled another day in the previous month—June 9. That afternoon, Mei had suddenly shown up at my apartment in the Freuden Tobii. While she was there, I don’t know how we got on the subject, but she had told me her “life story” for the first time… She’d told me that Kirika, or Yukiyo Misaki, was not her real mother, and that Yukiyo had a fraternal twin sister, Mitsuyo Fujioka, who had been the one to give birth to Mei. Something had happened, and Mei had been taken into the Misaki family as an adopted daughter when she was still very young… “So the person I saw wasn’t Kirika; it was…Mitsuyo?” Even though they were fraternal twins, their faces looked so alike that they were practically identical. Unusual, but not impossible. Mei had nodded slightly and glanced at the conjoined twin dolls…then, almost in a whisper, she had said to me, “Mitsuyo got divorced two years ago, then remarried… That’s what I was told. Then, around the end of last year, she moved here, even though she had always lived far outside the city. That’s one of the reasons she’s been contacting me directly since early this past spring…” At that point, I had recalled the ringtone on Mei’s cell phone. I’d never heard her phone ring before that spring, but since then, I’d heard it at least twice. When I thought back on it, the first time had been when I’d gone to her house in April. A tune different from the music flowing through the gallery had suddenly played…and when it did, Mei had acted uncharacteristically flustered. She had left the table and stepped outside the building. At the time, I had been a little surprised that Mei, who had never hesitated to call cell phones “awful devices,” had gone out of her way to set a ringtone on hers, but maybe that call had been from Mitsuyo? The second time had been at the start of May, on the last day of Golden Week. I’d encountered Hazumi near the Yomiyama River, and we had talked about various things. As we’d crossed the Izana Bridge, Mei had happened to be there, on the path on the opposite bank. She had gotten a call then, too, accompanied by the same melody, and when she’d answered it, I had overheard her disjointed responses. “I’m… But…yes. All right… Huh? Sure, okay… I haven’t said anything, relax.” I recalled being curious about who she was talking to. That call was probably from Mitsuyo, too… “…She calls me, so we’ve been talking, and soon we’re going to start seeing each other sometimes. But it’s an absolute secret from Kirika. If she knew, she would succumb to anxiety again and get very angry, and probably very sad.” After she had finished talking, Mei had sighed very deeply. She obviously didn’t want to upset Kirika or make her sad. But she couldn’t refuse contact with her birth mother, and she didn’t want to. Mei had been in this situation, pulled in two directions, for several months. “So then your mother…Mitsuyo, she must be unwell in some way, and that’s why she’s going to the hospital?” It had felt like my heart was being pulled in two directions. “That day when we went up to the roof and talked, before I ran into you, were you there to see Mitsuyo?” Mei hadn’t answered any of my questions. For a second, her lips had moved as if she was going to talk, but she’d quickly stopped and sighed again. “Listen, Sou,” she had said, “don’t say anything about this to anyone for now. I’m still figuring everything out, so…so…” Mei had trailed off and stared down at the floor, as if she’d lost track of the words that were supposed to come next. “It’s all right,” I had answered with a firm nod. “I won’t tell anyone. I’ll definitely keep it a secret.” Plenty of other questions weighed on my mind at the time, but I hadn’t felt like asking them right then. I’d figured that we could talk about them when Mei wanted to. And if she didn’t want to talk, I didn’t want to hear, either. My feelings toward her in that regard had always been the same. 8 “What’s wrong, Sou?” Yagisawa’s voice snapped me back to the present, out of my reminiscing. It couldn’t have actually been that long, but to Yagisawa, I’m sure that I must have looked like my mind was elsewhere. “Ah, sorry,” I said, using my spoon to stir the totally melted ice cream in my uneaten “special parfait.” “I just sort of zoned out.” “Worn out from the move?” “No… Well, yeah, probably.” I put the spoon down, let out a long sigh, and rested my chin in my hand, without really knowing why. Even though the air conditioner was running and the windows were closed, I could still hear the constant crying of cicadas in the garden. “That reminds me.” Yagisawa opened his fanny pack and pulled a folded wallet out from inside. “I’ve got this thing.” Then he showed me an advance ticket for Jurassic Park III, which was first going to open to the public in August— “I don’t remember buying this ticket.” “Ah, in that case…,” I responded and searched through the same bag that I had stored the mini album in earlier. I think it was in one of the inner pockets… “…Got it!” I pulled it out and showed it to Yagisawa. “I’ve got the same thing!” “Huh?” He stuck his lip out, looking puzzled or maybe a little disconcerted. “Did I promise to go see it with you or something?” “You don’t remember—do you, Yagisawa?” Even though I was aware that this was the way it should be and that there was no need to be surprised or upset about it at this point, I still felt a pain in my chest, as if my heart was being slowly but steadily crushed. “You did make a promise,” I said, looking down at the crumpled Jurassic Park III advance ticket sitting on my palm. “But it wasn’t just you and me. We were all going to go together over summer break. That’s what she said…” 9 I would go on to hear the piano playing “Moonlight Sonata” several more times after the night I spoke with Souta—two or three times in the elevator on the fifth floor, which was close to <E-1>, and even once in my own apartment, which was on the same floor. Every time, I would tell myself that it was only my imagination and shake my head, and the sound would quickly disappear. No doubt it was all an illusion. First of all, the room in <E-1> where the piano sat was soundproofed, so the music shouldn’t have been able to escape. So why do I keep hearing that song, even though I know it’s not possible? I had wondered. Is it because, on some unconscious level, my mind is trying to reject the fact that Izumi is gone from this world? Is it because I wish that she still existed? I’d been reminded of my bizarre experience during summer three years prior at Lakeshore Manor, and it had filled me with anxiety and fear, as well as a great sadness. It had felt like there was a possibility that I was becoming obsessed with someone who was no longer around… So I had begun to think that I shouldn’t stay there any longer. Like I’d better get out of that apartment building as quickly as possible, or else… I had pushed the issue with Auntie Sayuri and the others, and a week prior, we had settled on my moving back as soon as the summer break began. And then, one night, I’d been on my way back to my apartment from the Akazawa main house when— I saw it just as I entered the building lobby. Standing on the other side of the open elevator doors—a pale figure. It was someone wearing a white raincoat (even though it wasn’t raining outside). Their head was deep in the hood, and I couldn’t make out their face, but I promptly murmured, “Izumi?” She had also been wearing a white raincoat on the night of the 5th, and my memory of her seemed to overlay onto the figure before me. Astonished, I ran up to the elevator, but the doors closed immediately, and the elevator began to move…then it finally stopped. It stopped on the fifth floor. As I pressed the call button, I closed my eyes and shook my head. I mumbled Izumi’s name without thinking, but of course there was no way that it could have been her. What I had seen just then had to be someone else wearing a white raincoat—that, or a complete figment of my imagination…a type of hallucination perhaps. There’s no such thing as ghosts. They can’t exist. That had been my unshakable conviction ever since that bizarre experience three years ago. To say nothing of the fact that the “Izumi Akazawa” who had died the night of the 5th had already been dead to begin with. The idea that she could appear as a ghost after we had returned the “casualty” to “death”…there was just no way. It can’t be; it can’t be…, I repeated to myself, breathing hard. I’ve got to get a hold of myself. I waited for the elevator cage to come back, then rode up to the fifth floor. When I stepped out into the elevator lobby, I nervously looked around. The pale figure from before was nowhere to be seen, and I felt a moment of relief. However, just then— The sound of a piano. I heard it coming faintly from unit <E-1>, where no one was living. Ah, again? I sighed. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t do this… Growing steadily more anxious, I shook my head hard. That had always made the sound go away before. But it didn’t go away, not that time. I kept shaking my head, again and again, but the sound didn’t disappear. I could still hear it, coming from <E-1>. The tune the piano was playing was a different one than the times before. It wasn’t the “Moonlight Sonata.” Instead, it was some other dreary melody that I didn’t recognize… Though I was very confused, I approached the door of unit <E-1>. Without a doubt, the sound of the piano was audible from inside that apartment. I held my breath and put my hand on the doorknob. The knob turned, and the door opened. It’s not locked. Someone is inside this apartment right now. They’re in the piano room, actually playing the piano. “Izumi…,” I mumbled unconsciously, “…no way.” It can’t be—going against my better judgment, I slowly and quietly stepped into the room. Contrary to whatever vague expectations I held, it was bright inside. The lights in the living room were on. Which means…? At a glance, the room looked just as it had on the evening of the 5th, when I’d come to borrow the class photo. But there was something in the air, an indescribable sense of desolation. Everything was neatly put away, so the place wasn’t a wreck or anything, but something about it was definitely different. Despite the season, the air felt chilly and stagnant, like the bottom of a well. It might have been my imagination, but the color of everything in the apartment—from the rug spread on the floor, to the blinds on the windows, to the display shelf with the glass door—everything seemed more faded than before. This could also have been my imagination, but for some reason, I thought I detected a faint moldy smell, too… …The piano performance continued. I noticed that the door to the piano room was standing ajar. That explained how the sound was getting out. Then, suddenly, the music ceased, and a voice came from the other side of the door. “Who’s there?” It was a voice I knew. “Is someone in here?” Though I had boldly made it as far as the living room, I’d suddenly found myself paralyzed, frozen on the spot. The person at the piano had clearly noticed me. Before I was able to manage a response, the piano room door had opened. Auntie Mayuko had looked at me with wide-eyed surprise. “Well! What’s wrong, Sou?” “Ah, um…I…” As bewildered as I was by this unexpected development, I had answered with the approximate truth. “I was curious about the sound of the piano…so, and the door was open, so I just came on in… Um, I’m sorry.” “Ah…of course, I understand your concern. I think I told you that this is the room Izumi used to use, didn’t I, Sou?” I actually had never heard that from Mayuko, but I had stayed quiet and nodded. I’d understood immediately that this was one of her memories that had been overwritten with the disappearance of “Izumi Akazawa.” 10 “Your grandfather died in that accident, and then Souta came home for the first time in three years. I just couldn’t stop thinking about Izumi…” After I’d discovered her, Mayuko had come out into the living area, pulled out a chair at the dining table, and sat down wearily. “…I came in here for the first time in so long, and when I saw the piano in that room, I suddenly wanted to play it. Three years have already gone by, but somehow it feels like she was in here just yesterday…” “Does it?” I’d answered as I sat in the chair facing Mayuko. I had just realized that she was holding a handkerchief in her left hand. I’d also noticed what looked like tear streaks running from her eyes down her cheeks. “That piano is horribly out of tune; it must have sounded awful,” Mayuko had said. “And there’s one key that doesn’t even play. It’s been neglected all this time, so… It’s such a waste, isn’t it? Poor piano.” “Poor piano.” I’d heard the same words from Izumi the previous month. “I’ll have to ask Mama about it.” But in the end, she’d never gotten to make that request… Mayuko sat for some time with her mouth closed and her eyes cast downward. Eventually, I’d asked her, “…Um, Izumi…she passed away on a school trip during summer break three years ago—is that right?” Mayuko had nodded slightly but with no hesitation. I’d been able to tell that her memory of the “summer trip,” which had previously been obscured by the “phenomenon,” had completely come back to her. “You know, at school that year, there was nothing but trouble. It seemed like there was something going on with her class, but no matter how I asked, she always told me it was nothing…” So three years ago, Izumi obeyed the “rules” to the very end. She didn’t even confide in her own mother about the “phenomenon” and the “accidents,” huh? “There have been a series of disastrous incidents at school this year, too, haven’t there? A friend of yours passed away, too, right, Sou?” “Yes.” “Is everything all right? Maybe something is going on, like three years ago…?” Under Mayuko’s concerned gaze, I’d answered flatly, “Everything’s fine.” Everything is fine now anyway—I’d added in my mind. But I hadn’t said it out loud. “I certainly hope so.” Mayuko had put on a stiff smile and used her fingers as a comb to tidy her slightly disheveled hair (the gray hairs were conspicuous for her age). Slowly, she’d looked around the room. “It was a shock when she died so suddenly. We kept her apartment like this, but…but you know, I think it’s time to stop.” “Huh?” “I had the thought earlier when I was playing the piano by myself. It’s not healthy. No matter how long I drag it out like this, she’s not coming back to life.” I hadn’t been able to find the appropriate words, so I had also looked around the room. The velociraptor that Izumi had said she liked had been sitting among the dinosaur figurines in the display case, and for some reason, it had looked just like it was scowling at me. “You can come and visit anytime, Sou, even after you move back to the house,” Mayuko had said, suddenly changing her tone of voice. “As long as I won’t be a nuisance,” I’d answered. Then Mayuko had smiled more naturally and pushed away from the table. “Souta also told me to loan his books out to you, as many as you like.” “Ah, all right.” “You two just met for the first time the other day, but he really seems to have taken a liking to you, Sou. So that’s why.” “Well, okay, I won’t hold back…” After that, I had followed Mayuko as she moved to leave <E-1>, but as we were going— I’d spotted something on the built-in counter between the kitchen and the living room—something that had been casually dropped beside the coffee. An advance ticket for Jurassic Park III—one of the ones Izumi had purchased after saying we should all go see it over summer break. Her ticket had been sitting there… Without thinking, I had picked it up and stealthily stuffed it into my pants pocket. 11 I placed my wrinkled ticket on the table and started digging through the same bag again, mumbling, “And I think…” “What is it? You’ve got something else?” Yagisawa leaned forward. “Yeah. I think I put it in here yesterday, but… There it is. I’ve got this.” I pulled out something from in between the various notebooks stuffed haphazardly into my bag. It was the third advance ticket, which I had put into a clear folder. “I found it left behind in her room. I took it with me.” I removed the ticket and lined it up next to the one I had just put down. “Whoa.” Yagisawa nodded and set his ticket down in front of the other two. “We really did make that promise, huh? I don’t remember it at all… Geez.” He made a fist with his right hand and rapped it against his own forehead. “We were pretty good friends, huh?” “Pretty good, yeah,” I answered as smoothly as possible. “You and her were, yeah, you seemed to get along really well.” “You don’t say. Hmm, but I don’t remember her. It’s so irritating!” “There’s no helping it. That’s what the ‘phenomenon’ does.” “Mm, but still…” After Tsugunaga had died in May, Izumi had served as the female class representative. The male rep was Yagisawa, so the two of them had that in common, too. By the way, in the present, where “Izumi Akazawa” didn’t exist, a different girl had been chosen to be the class rep after Tsugunaga’s death (a girl named Fukuchi, who had been a friend of Tsugunaga’s)… That was a “fact” that had been overwritten. The same thing had happened with the countermeasures officers—an overwrite had occurred so that this year’s officers had been Etou and Tajimi from the start. “The premiere is August fourth, huh?” Yagisawa said, gazing at the three tickets lined up on the table. “Want to go see it together?” “Yeah, let’s do it.” “We’ve got three tickets, so should we invite a third person?” “Mm, that would be all right, too, but…” Who would we invite? No sooner had I thought of the question than Mei popped into my mind. But even if I explained the situation to her, would she be interested in this kind of movie? And even if she did show interest, would she want to accompany two middle school boys? Who knows? “Well then.” Yagisawa glanced at his watch and stood up from his chair. “I’d better get going.” “Isn’t it a little early yet?” “Well actually, it’s my youngest brother’s birthday today, and we’re all having cake together, so my mom insisted that I come home early.” I almost burst into laughter when I saw Yagisawa’s extremely serious face as he told me that. No matter what he might say, this guy loves his family—I thought, feeling both jealous and heartsick. “Anyway, it’s summer vacation,” Yagisawa said as he stood up and stretched with a groan. “I am concerned about high school entrance exams, but that’s way down the road. It’s our last summer vacation in middle school, and I plan to live it up.” There’s the self-proclaimed “optimist” we all know… “Have you got anything planned for the summer, Sou?” “Like what?” “I dunno, travel or something.” “Not really. I’ll probably spend it cleaning my room and reading books.” “You never change.” Yagisawa scratched his head with its long, stiff hair. “Well, let me know if you suddenly decide you want to form a band or something. You can start out on the triangle or the handbells, so…” …And so on. We kept chatting about nothing important for a little while after that, but when the talking stopped, a strange silence suddenly settled over us. I was sure Yagisawa had said that he had to get going, but he stopped short of moving to pick up his ticket from the table. When I noticed the way he was acting, it made me a little nervous. I think the silence lasted three or four seconds. Then Yagisawa broke it. “Hey, Sou?” The tone of his voice was different than before. “I know I shouldn’t be asking you something like this here, but do you suppose this year’s ‘calamity’ is really, truly over?” “Are you worried?” I asked him back. “No.” Yagisawa frowned. “It’s not…worry; it’s like it doesn’t feel like reality.” “Reality, huh?” “You have it, don’t you, some sense that it’s all real?” “I do.” “That’s why I asked—to check. The ‘accidents’ have really stopped, right? Everything’s okay now?” When he repeated his question, I threw the same question at myself again…and then I nodded. “Yes. It’s okay. In theory.” “This whole ‘phenomenon’ and ‘calamity’ thing is completely absurd to begin with, but…does that pass muster, your ‘theory’?” It wasn’t like Yagisawa to be so insistent. He wasn’t giving me any room to maneuver. I summoned all my strength and answered him. “It passes.” This year’s “phenomenon” is over, and the “accidents” have stopped. Everything’s all right now. We don’t need to fear anything anymore. That’s a fact. If not, then returning Izumi to “death” that night didn’t mean anything.