"What's this?"
I heard Ms. Mikami's voice. She had posed the question to a boy to my left named Mochizuki. Yuya Mochizuki.
He was on the small side, pale, and though plain, he was fine-featured. If he really went for it and walked around Shibuya dressed in drag, he could get mistaken for a pretty young thing and get picked up by someone. However, I had yet to speak a word to him since transferring in yesterday. I tried to say hi, but he would instantly look away from me. It was hard to tell if he was just shy or if he had a dark, misanthropic personality.
Ms. Mikami's question caused Mochizuki's cheeks to flush slightly, and he fumbled for a response. "Um…I was trying to make a lemon…"
"A lemon? This?"
Darting a glance up at the teacher, who was twisting her head to weird angles, Mochizuki replied in a low voice, "Yes. It's the scream in a lemon."
It was Thursday, my second day at school. We were in fifth period, art class.
The class, on the first floor of that old school building—Building Zero—was split into six groups, each sitting around their own large worktables. A variety of objects were lined up at the center of each table, like an onion, a lemon, a mug, and so on. The purpose of today's class was to sketch a still life of these things.
I'd selected a mug set beside an onion and begun drawing in pencil on the drawing paper we'd been given. Apparently Mochizuki had chosen a lemon, but I dunno…
Craning my neck, I snuck a look at the paper in front of him. I got a glimpse of it and—
Yeah, I get it now. There was plenty of reason for Ms. Mikami to be asking questions.
He had drawn some grotesque thing, shaped nothing like any of the subjects on the table.
When he said it was a lemon, okay, I could just barely make it out. But it was more than twice as stretched out as the lemon in front of me, tall and spindly, plus the outline was all wavy in uneven bumps. On top of that, he'd drawn the same kind of wavy, bumpy lines (they looked like special-effect lines to me) all around it…
What was this?
Suddenly, I had the same thought. But then if I extrapolated from "the scream in a lemon" like Mochizuki had said, I realized, It could be…
When you hear the word "scream," even a grade school kid knows—that greatest masterpiece by the Norwegian artist Edvard Munch. The figure of a man on a bridge covering his ears, drawn with a bizarre composition and palette in fluctuating lines. This wobbly drawing of a lemon seemed to share something with that painting…
"Do you think this is acceptable, Mochizuki?"
Stealing another glance up at her, Mochizuki hesitantly replied, "Yes…I mean, this is how the lemon looks to me right now…"
"I see."
Ms. Mikami drew her lips tight and harrumphed. "It isn't really in the spirit of today's class, but…I suppose it's all right." A rueful smile edged onto her face, as if she had thrown her hands up in defeat, and she said, "I'd prefer it if you only experiment like this in art club, however."
"Oh. Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry."
"There's no need to apologize. Go ahead and finish this up the way you have it."
With that indifferent admonition, Ms. Mikami moved away from us. Then—
"Do you like Munch?"
I peeked again at Mochizuki's drawing and gingerly tried to engage him.
"Uh…yeah, I guess," he replied without looking at me and then picked up his pencil again. But I didn't sense a strong blockade being thrown up, so I pressed on.
"But why did the lemon come out like that?"
He pinched his lips together and harrumphed like Ms. Mikami had just done.
"That's how I see it, so that's how I drew it. That's all."
"You mean objects have screams, too?"
"That's not what's going on. People misinterpret Munch's painting all the time. It isn't the man that's screaming in that painting. It's the world around him. The scream is making him shudder, so he's covering his ears."
"So then it's not the lemon screaming, either."
"Right."
"Is the lemon covering its ears?"
"I don't think you're getting it yet…"
"Hm-m-m. Well, whatever. So you're in the art club?"
"Oh—yeah. I rejoined in third year."
Which reminded me of what Teshigawara had told me yesterday, about the art club being suspended last year. But starting in April this year, the "lovely Ms. Mikami" had become the sponsor…
"What about you?"
Then, for the first time, Mochizuki looked at me. He cocked his head to one side like a puppy.
"Are you gonna join?"
"Wh-why would I do that?"
"Well…"
"Sure, I'm kind of interested in it…but I don't know. I'm not that good at drawing."
"It doesn't really matter how good you are," Mochizuki told me in an extremely serious tone. "You draw pictures by seeing with the eyes in your heart. That's what makes it fun."
"The eyes in your heart?"
"Yeah."
"That's what this is?"
I glanced at his "scream in lemon," and Mochizuki nodded saying, "Sure," without a hint of guilt, rubbing a finger under his nose.
I guess he was petrified of strangers; still, once I started talking to him, he seemed pretty interesting. That thought helped me relax a lot, but at the same time—
Something flashed through my mind at the mention of the art club.
When we'd talked on the roof of Building C during gym class yesterday, she—Mei Misaki—had carried a sketchbook. Could she be in the art club, too?
The art room in Building Zero was twice as big as a normal classroom. The construction and equipment in the room was getting old, and the amount of light it got left the place somehow dreary, but thanks to the high ceiling, the room didn't feel too oppressive. It made it feel even bigger than it already was.
My eyes wandered around the room, as if for the first time. However—
I didn't see Mei Misaki anywhere, after all.
But she was in morning classes…I couldn't help feeling suspicious.
There hadn't been time for a leisurely chat, but I'd succeeded in catching her during one of the breaks between classes and shared a few words with her. I mentioned how she'd gone home alone in the rain yesterday, and other trifling things.
"I don't hate the rain."
That's what she'd told me then.
"My favorite is the cold rain in the middle of winter. The moment it changes to snow."
I wanted to catch her at lunch and talk some more, but just like yesterday, she had disappeared from the classroom before I'd noticed. And even now that fifth period had begun, she had yet to appear.
"Hey, Sakakibara."
Mochizuki was the one trying to start conversations now. I put my thoughts about Mei on hold. "What?"
"What do you think…about Ms. Mikami?"
"Out of the blue, I mean, I don't know."
"Oh, I see. Yeah, okay…" Mochizuki nodded several times, murmuring in a low voice, and his cheeks tinted slightly red again.
What's with this guy? Secretly, he'd knocked me off balance a little.
Does he have a crush on his art teacher? This kid? How does that work? She's more than ten years older than you, dude.
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
"Munch made four copies of The Scream in all."
"I'd heard that."
"I like the one at the Oslo National Museum of Art. The red color of the sky is the most intimidating. It looks like blood is going to come pouring out of it any second."
"Huh. But doesn't that start to scare you, the more you look at it? Or make you feel incredibly uneasy? How can you like that?"
You could say it's an easy painting to understand. The visual impact is so intense, the underlying subject matter gets ignored and funny or interesting parodies are everywhere you look. So I suppose in that sense it's a popular work. But of course, when Mochizuki said he liked it, he didn't seem to be talking on that level.
"Uneasy…I suppose so. It's a picture that drags those feelings out for me, that there's anxiety in everything and that's just the way it is. That's why I like it."
"You like it because it makes you uneasy?"
"It's not like it goes away if you pretend you don't feel it. You're the same way, aren't you, Sakakibara? I'm positive it's the same for everyone."
"Even lemons and onions?"
I said it jokingly, and Mochizuki smiled a little shyly.
"Drawings are a projection of the imagination."
"Sure, but come on…"
After art class ended, I wound up getting up and walking out with Yuya Mochizuki. And, as we wound up continuing our conversation, we walked down a dimly lit hall of Building Zero.
"Yo, Sakaki!"
Someone behind me tapped me on the shoulder. Before I even turned around, I knew it was Teshigawara. Apparently he'd decided to start abbreviating my name to "Sakaki" today.
"You guys whispering about Ms. Mikami? I want in."
"Sorry to disappoint you, but we're talking about something a little bit darker than that," I replied.
"What is it? What're you talking about?"
"The anxiety that cloaks the world."
"Wha-a-a?"
"Do you ever feel uneasy, Teshigawara?" I asked, despite my opinion that he seemed to lack any connection to emotions like that. It had already become natural to talk plainly to him.
The bleached goofball beat my expectations, though, when he said, "What do you think!"
He nodded grandly, I wasn't sure exactly how seriously, and then replied, "After all, when I went up a grade, I wound up getting stuck with the 'curse of Class 3'!"
"Wha?"
The sound slipped out of me. At the same time, I saw Mochizuki's reaction: As his gaze fell silently to his feet, his expression seemed melancholy and somehow tense. The scene had crystallized in the space of a moment. That's what it felt like.
"So-o-o, Sakaki," Teshigawara said. "I've been meaning to talk to you about this since yesterday…"
"Hold on, Teshigawara," Mochizuki spoke up. "I don't think you can do that anymore."
Can't do that? Do what? Why not?
"'Anymore' is assuming we ever…"
This was Teshigawara, who was having trouble continuing. Totally in the dark, I cried, "What are you guys talking about?" then caught myself with a gasp.
We'd been walking down a hall in Building Zero and were just coming up on the secondary library. Hardly anyone seemed to use the old library, but now the sliding door leading into it was open a few centimeters. And through the gap, I could see into the room…
…She was there.
Mei Misaki was in there.
"What's wrong?"
Teshigawara's question was dubious.
"Hold on a second," I replied ambiguously and slid the library door open. Mei turned to look at us.
Mei was sitting at a large desk in the totally empty room. I raised my hand to wave, "Hey," but she gave no response whatsoever and returned her eyes to the desk.
"H-hey, Sakaki. You're not really…"
"S-Sakakibara? What are you…?"
More or less ignoring Teshigawara and Mochizuki's chatter, I stepped into the secondary library.
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
The walls were obscured behind bookshelves that went all the way to the ceiling, packed full of books. Even that wasn't enough, though, and more than half the floor space in the room was a forest of tall shelves.
The room looked to be about the same size as the art classroom, but the style was completely different. There wasn't even a hint of openness in here. The weight of all the books being stored here imparted a heavy oppressiveness to the room. The amount of light made this place seem all the gloomier, and looking around I saw that several of the fluorescent lights were out.
There was only one large table intended for readers, where Mei sat. Not even ten chairs were placed around it. There was a small counter in a back corner to the left, in a valley between the shelves. I couldn't see anyone there right now, but I assumed that was where the librarian usually was.
In this space suffused with the unique smell of old books, where time seemed to have come to rest…that's where she was.
Mei Misaki was in here, all by herself.
Even as I approached, she never so much as glanced at me. Lying open before her on the desk was, not a book, but her large octavo sketchbook.
Had she…skipped art class to come here and draw by herself?
"Do you think you should have come in here?"
Mei spoke without shifting her gaze.
"Why not?" I retorted.
"Your two friends didn't stop you?"
"Guess not."
There was something strange in how everyone else in class acted when it came to her. Although I had started, ever so vaguely, to guess why that might be.
"What are you drawing?" I asked, dropping my eyes to her sketchbook.
It was a sketch of a beautiful young girl, done in pencil. It didn't have the style of an anime or manga drawing. It was a more realistic, naturalistic line drawing.
The body shape was delicate, its sex barely distinguishable. The limbs were slender. The hair long. The eyes, nose, and mouth hadn't been drawn in yet, but still it conveyed the image of a beautiful young girl.
"Is this…a doll?"
I had a reason for asking that.
The shoulders, elbows, wrists, hip joints, knees, and ankles…at each of these joints, I could see in the drawing the characteristic form that certain types of dolls have: the signature structure in what's called a "ball-jointed doll," shaped exactly as the name implies.
Without answering, Mei disinterestedly dropped the pencil she'd been holding on top of the drawing.
"Do you have a model? Or is it all from your imagination?"
I piled up the questions even as I prepared to hear I hate the way you're interrogating me. Finally, Mei turned her face toward me.
"I can't say which it is. Maybe both."
"Both?"
"I'm going to give this girl huge wings, last of all."
"Wings…So she's an angel?"
"I dunno. Could be."
It could be a devil—a comment like that seemed ready to follow, and my breath caught for a second. But Mei didn't elaborate. A faint smile was all that touched her lips.
"What happened to your eye?"
I tried changing the subject, to something I had been wondering this whole time.
"You've had that on since I saw you at the hospital. Did you get hurt?"
"You want to know?"
Mei tilted her head slightly, her right eye narrowing. Flustered, I told her, "Uh, if you don't want, that's okay…"
"Then I won't tell you."
Just then the crackling sound of a bell started up somewhere in the room. Apparently the battered old speaker was still being used, despite never being repaired.
It was the bell to start sixth period, but Mei made no move to stand up. Maybe she was going to cut again.
Should I leave her, or drag her with me? I was having trouble deciding.
"You should get to class."
A voice came out of nowhere.
It was a male voice I had never heard before. There was a slight rasp to it, but it was deep and rich.
Startled, I looked around the room and discovered where it had come from.
Behind that counter in the corner of the room, where I had seen no one before, was a man dressed all in black.
"I haven't seen you before," the man said. He had frumpy black-rimmed glasses and a lot of white mixed into his strawlike hair.
"Um, I'm Sakakibara, in third-year Class 3. I just transferred to this school yesterday, and uh…"
"I'm Chibiki, the librarian." He fixed his eyes on me, unwavering, as he spoke. "You can come here anytime you like, but for now: go on, get along."
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
Sixth period was an extended homeroom, which we had once a week. If this were elementary school, it would be our class meeting time, but I doubted such lively and unrestricted discussions would be taking place while the head teacher was watching over us. Nowadays, public and private schools are probably both the same way.
There weren't any problems that called for discussion right then, so we wound up being dismissed from class before school was over.
Mei Misaki never appeared in the classroom during this time, either. But it seemed to me that no one showed any sign of worrying particularly about it, including Mr. Kubodera and Ms. Mikami.
My grandmother had brought me to school in the car again today. I'd tried to stop her, telling her she didn't have to do this, but she wouldn't let it go. "This week, I have to," she told me. And considering my position, I couldn't really put up a whole lot of resistance, either…
To be honest, I wanted to stay at school a little longer and look for Mei, but I had to give it up. I declined an invitation from Teshigawara and the others to go home with them, too, and climbed into the car that had come to get me.
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
After dinner that night, before Reiko retreated to her office/bedroom in the side house, I had a chance to talk with her alone for a little while.
I'd saved up a bunch of stuff to ask her, but now that we were actually talking, I tensed up for some reason—as usual. We wound up talking about a bunch of fluff subjects, which wasn't what I'd meant to do at all.
After much hesitation and waffling, I tried just jumping in headlong by leading with a question about the secondary library in Building Zero.
"Has that library always been there?"
"Yup. Obviously it was there when I was in middle school, and I'm pretty sure it was there when Ritsuko went there, too."
"Was it the 'secondary' library back then?"
"No, that's changed. It must have become the 'secondary' library after the new buildings were finished and the new library was ready."
"Probably."
Reiko had been propping her chin up on one hand, resting her elbow on the table. She switched arms and took a swig of beer from her glass. Then she gave a soft sigh. She didn't show it openly, but she probably found her day-to-day adult life exhausting.
"Do you know the librarian in the secondary library? I caught this quick glimpse of him today, but there was something about him that made him seem like the ruler of that room…So I was thinking, he must have been there forever."
"You mean Mr. Chibiki?"
"Yeah, that was his name."
"You're right, Koichi. He does give that sort of impression. The 'ruler' of the library. He's been there since my time. He's real crusty and always dresses all in black, and there's something kind of mysterious about him. Most of the girls thought he was creepy."
"I bet."
"Did he say anything weird when you saw him today?"
"No, nothing special."
Shaking my head slowly, I thought back on the scene.
I was the only one he'd ordered out of the library. What had become of Mei after that? Had she stayed there and kept working on her drawing? Or had she…
"By the way, Koichi," Reiko said, holding the glass of beer in one hand. "Are you planning to join a club or do anything after school?"
"Oh…good point. I wonder what I should do."
"Did you do anything at your last school?"
Since she'd asked, I answered honestly.
"I was in the culinary arts club."
I'd joined it with a touch of sarcasm intended for my father, who was happy to foist all the housework off on his only son. My cooking skill had gone up a couple levels thanks to that, but my father never showed any sign of noticing the results.
"I-I-I don't think North Yomi has anything like that," Reiko answered, her eyes softening in a smile.
"It's only one year anyway. I don't need to force myself to join something. Oh, but today someone asked me if I wanted to join the art club."
"Oh really?"
"But I dunno after all…"
"That's just like you, Koichi."
Draining what remained of her beer, Reiko rested both of her elbows on the table and put both hands to her cheeks. Then she looked straight into my face and asked, "Do you like art?"
"I dunno about like. I think it's kind of interesting…"
Reiko's gaze felt like a blinding light. Unconsciously, I dipped my head slightly as I replied with exactly the feelings that came bubbling out of my heart.
"But I'm not very good at drawing. More like just plain bad at it."
"Hm-m-m."
"But despite that I, uh—this is a secret, okay? No one knows yet. But I kind of want to go to college for something related to art, if I can."
"Wow, you do? That's the first I've heard of it!"
"I want to try sculpture or plastic arts or something along those lines."
My glass was filled with my grandmother's specialty vegetable juice, which she had made for me. I took a timid sip of it, trying to be strong about the celery (which I despise) that she had mixed into it.
"What do you think? Pretty harebrained, right?"
I steeled myself. Reiko folded her arms over her chest and murmured again. "Hm-m-m."
Finally she said, "Some advice. First: Speaking from experience, parents usually refuse out of hand when their kids say they want to go to art school or a fine arts academy."
"…Not a surprise."
"I don't know what your dad would do. Maybe he's the type to tear into you if he finds out."
"I wouldn't expect that, but he might."
"Second," Reiko went on. "Even assuming you get into an art school or fine arts academy like you wanted, after you graduate you have shockingly few marketable job skills. Obviously some of that depends on how much talent you have, but the most important thing is luck, I think."
So that's what it was. Already with the realism…
"Third."
All right, already—I was ready to call it quits then and there. But Reiko's last piece of advice was a tiny bit of salvation, offered with kindness softening her eyes again.
"Despite that, if you really want to go for it, there's no reason to be afraid. I think it's very unbecoming to give up before you even try, whatever it is you're doing."
"You do?"
"Yeah. That's important to you, right? Whether you're cool or not?"
Reiko slowly rubbed her cheeks, which had flushed slightly with the effects of the alcohol, with both hands.
"Of course, the issue is whether or not you think you're cool."
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
The next day—Friday, May 8—I didn't see Mei Misaki all morning.
I thought maybe she was out sick, but she hadn't looked it yesterday at all…
Could it be…? My mind had hit on one possibility.
After we'd talked on the roof during gym class on Wednesday…
If you're on the roof and you hear the cawing of a crow, when you go back inside, you must enter with your left foot.
That was the first of the "North Yomi fundamentals" that Reiko had taught me. If you disobeyed and went in with the wrong foot, you'd get hurt within a month.
Whether or not Mei had heard the repeated cawing of the crows, she had gone in by her right foot. So…could it be that she'd been badly hurt because of that? Get real.
The fact that I was thinking these things half seriously, honestly worried, seemed utterly laughable when I stopped and took a levelheaded look at myself.
No way, I thought. There was no way. And yet, in the end, I couldn't bring myself to ask anyone why she was absent, either.
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
I never experienced this at the private K*** Middle School, but in public school, the second and fourth Saturdays were basically days off. There were apparently places where they allotted "hands-on studies" outside school to those days, but North Yomi didn't massage the system like that at all. It was up to the students how they would spend their increased free time.
And so the Saturday of the 9th, there was no school. I didn't need to get up early, either—or I wouldn't have, except I had to go to Yumigaoka Municipal Hospital today. I'd made a morning appointment for a checkup to see how my condition was progressing.
Of course, my grandmother had volunteered to go with me to the hospital; but when the time came, she wound up backing out. My grandfather, Ryohei, had developed a sudden fever that morning and had to stay in bed.
It didn't sound like anything terribly serious, but he was an old man whose behavior showed more than a little cause for day-to-day concern anyway. I realized that he probably couldn't be left alone in the house, and I reassured my grandmother, "Don't worry about it, I'll be fine."
"You will? Well, thank you, then."
Just as I'd thought, she didn't fight it this time.
"You be careful and come straight home. If you start to feel bad, you go right ahead and take a taxi home."
"Okay, Grandma, I got it."
"I don't want you pushing yourself."
"I won't."
"Do you have enough money?"
"Yes, Grandma, right here."
We happened to be having this conversation near the porch on the first floor, so Ray the mynah bird overheard and cried out cheerily, "Why? Why?" in her shrill voice, ushering me out of the house.
"Why?…Cheer up. Cheer."
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
"Good, good," the lead physician murmured, nodding, after he'd scrutinized the images of my lungs lined up on the X-ray illuminator. He was a man just beginning to enter old age, and he issued his opinion with a breezy tone. "Everything looks clear. Excellent. No issues at all.
"Even so, exerting yourself is still out of the question. I'd say, let's take another look in one or two weeks and if there are no changes, you should be okay for gym class."
"Thank you."
I bowed humbly, but I couldn't help feeling a slight anxiety inside. Last fall, I'd had an outpatient checkup like this shortly after I was released from the hospital. I'd gotten the same go-ahead then, too…
But of course, no matter how much I worried about stuff like that going forward, it wouldn't change anything. "You should be out of the woods now, too." I should just go ahead and trust the optimistic view of a survivor…Yeah. That was best.
The outpatient ward at municipal hospitals is always horribly crowded, no matter where it is. By the time my checkup was over and I'd finished paying at the window, lunchtime was already long gone. As a now–mostly healthy fifteen-year-old boy, I felt my hunger begin to torment me, but I wasn't thrilled at the idea of the hospital cafeteria. I'll just find a hamburger place or some doughnuts on my way home. I had left the hospital and was heading for the bus stop when all at once I reconsidered.
I was visiting the hospital for the first time in ten days, and thankfully (though she'd probably get mad at me for saying it) my grandmother wasn't with me. I had nothing better to do, so it would be stupid not to act somehow, even in the smallest way. This was a far more important issue than my current hunger, wasn't it? Yes, it was.
I decided to go back into the hospital. And I headed for the place that had served as the main stage for my life at the end of last month: the inpatient ward.
"What's this? How's it going, Horror Boy?"
I'd taken the elevator up to the fourth floor and was just swinging by the window at the nurse's station when I ran into a nurse I recognized, just then coming out into the hall. Skinny and tall, her large, bugging eyes giving her an unbalanced look…It was Ms. Mizuno.
She had told me that she'd just gotten her full qualifications as a nurse last year. It hadn't been long since she started working there, but she was probably the hospital worker I'd talked to the most during my ten days there. Ms. Sanae Mizuno.
"Oh, hello."
Ask and you shall receive—it wasn't quite as grand as all that, but this chance encounter right at this moment was something I had hoped and prayed for.
"What's wrong? It's Sakakibara…Koichi, right? Your chest didn't get messed up again, did it?"
"No, no, it's nothing like that." I quickly shook my head. "I came for an outpatient checkup today. No issues, they said."
"Oh. But then what are you doing up here?"
"Because, um, I wanted to see you."
I realized that sounded kind of inappropriate even as I said it.
Ms. Mizuno instantly came back with a theatrical reaction. "Well, I'm flattered! I thought maybe you'd be lonely at your new school if you didn't find some cronies to talk horror with…but you're not, are you? How is it?"
"It's…Well, the truth is, I wanted to ask you something."
The thing that had first brought us to such friendly terms was the Stephen King novel I'd been reading while I was hospitalized. Her eyes had landed on the title.
"Is this all you read?" she'd asked me.
"Not all, no."
Her expression was that of a person witnessing something abnormal, so I was going to respond even more curtly, but then—
"So what else do you read then?" she asked next.
I blurted out, "Uh…Koontz, I guess."
That made her chortle and fold her arms over her chest like an old man. She looked as though she was holding back a fit of laughter. That was when she'd given me the nickname "Horror Boy."
"It's pretty unusual for someone who's hospitalized to read things like that."
"Is it?"
"After all, people usually want to avoid being scared or in pain, no? And when they're sick or hurt, they actually are scared and in pain."
"I guess. But I mean, it's only a story in a book, so I don't really…"
"Yup. You're totally right. I'm impressed, Horror Boy."
What became clear almost instantly was that she, too, was actually pretty into "things like that" herself. Asian or Western, modern or classic, she would read the novels and watch the movies. Apparently she was feeling pretty lonely herself since she didn't have any "cronies to talk horror with" at her job. And so up until the day I was discharged, she would tell me the works she recommended by authors I had never read, like John Saul and Michael Slade.
But I digress.
I had told Ms. Mizuno, "I wanted to ask you something," promising myself I would have some other chance to discuss our common interest.
"On April twenty-seventh—that was Monday of last week. Did a girl die at this hospital that day?"
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
"On April twenty-seventh?"
She obviously thought it was a strange question. Ms. Mizuno blinked her goggling eyes.
"Last week, Monday, eh? You were still here then, weren't you?"
"Yeah. That was the day they took the drain out."
"And what's this about, all of a sudden?"
It was a natural question to turn back on me. But I wasn't confident that I could explain the situation in detail without trampling on the nuances.
"I just…something's been nagging at me."
So I offered an ambiguous response.
That day—around noon last Monday, chance brought me to my first encounter with Mei Misaki in the hospital elevator. She'd gotten off at the second basement level. Where there are no patient rooms or exam rooms. The only thing down there besides storage rooms and the machine room is the memorial chapel.
…The memorial chapel.
I think the distinctive image of that place had kept nagging at me ever since. So, extrapolating from what I knew, I had asked Ms. Mizuno the question I did.
Let's assume the memorial chapel is where Mei was going that day. People usually don't go to an empty memorial chapel. Rationally, the body of someone who'd died in the hospital that day must have been resting there. Wasn't that the explanation?
Why did I think it was a girl who'd died?
This, too, was a grasping extrapolation, based on the riddle Mei had spoken that day (half my body, the poor thing…).
"Sounds like there's something complicated going on."
Ms. Mizuno puffed out one of her cheeks and squinted into my face.
"I'm not going to order you to give me the details, but…let me think."
"Do you have any ideas?"
"As far as the patients I'm in charge of, anyway, there weren't any girls who died. But I don't know about in the whole ward."
"Well, there's something else, too…"
I decided to change my question.
"Did you see a girl wearing a school uniform in the inpatient ward that day?"
"Wha-a-at? Another girl?"
"It would be a middle school uniform. A navy blue blazer. She has short hair and an eye patch over her left eye."
"An eye patch?" Ms. Mizuno cocked her head. "An ophthalmology patient? Oh, wait. Hold on a second."
"Did you see her?"
"Not that. The thing about any girls passing away that day."
"Yeah?!"
"Hm-m-m. Let me see-e-e…" As she murmured, Ms. Mizuno began tapping the middle finger of her right hand against her temple. "…I think there might have been one."
"Really?"
"I think so, but I only heard about it in passing."
She moved us to the sparsely populated lounge, rather than standing in the hallway of the ward with all its traffic from patients and their families and doctors and nurses. She was probably making the point that if we kept standing around talking out in the hall, there might be problems.
"I'm not totally sure, but you said it was last Monday…I think it was around then," Ms. Mizuno said, keeping her voice pretty low. "Was it a girl? I remember some talk about a young patient who'd been hospitalized here for a while who suddenly passed away."
"Do you know the person's name?"
My heart was pounding harder than I liked. At the same time, I don't know why, but I couldn't keep a shudder from running through my whole body.
"Do you know their name, or what they were sick with, or any details?"
After hesitating for a moment, Ms. Mizuno stole a glance around and then lowered her voice even more. "Why don't I see what I can find out?"
"You won't get in trouble?"
"If I just ask around, it shouldn't be too hard. You had a cell phone, didn't you?"
"Oh, yes."
"Give me the number."
She gave the order briskly, pulling her own phone out of a pocket in her smock.
"I'll let you know when I find out anything."
"Really? You won't get in trouble?"
"For an old horror buddy. You came all the way up here; you must have some reason for it," the novice nurse who liked horror novels said, a teasing look in her bulging eyes. "In exchange, you have to tell me why you want to know sometime. Okay, Horror Boy?"
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
BLUE EYES EMPTY TO ALL,
IN THE TWILIGHT OF YOMI.
It was well before twilight began to fall in the city of Yomiyama when I found this eccentric sign board.
I was on my way home from Yumigaoka.
I'd gotten off the bus at a place called Akatsuki, located at the halfway point between the hospital and my grandparents' house (as I figured it, using the half-formed map in my mind). I had addressed my hunger at a fast-food place I saw there, then walked around the modest downtown nearby. Despite it being a Saturday afternoon, the town was almost empty and, as I wandered the streets, I recognized the faces of none of the people I passed, naturally enough. No one spoke to me and I spoke to no one, and nothing particularly drew my interest. I moved away from the downtown, and away from the bus route, down a narrow alleyway, and came upon an area with a bunch of really nice houses, then came out the other side of that, too, in the end…I didn't have a particular motivation in mind. I was just walking wherever the spirit took me.
And if I got lost, well, things would work themselves out.
That's the spirit I'd gone into my excursion with. Such is the strength of a boy who'd lived for fifteen years in Tokyo without a mother, perhaps.
I realized that today was the third week since I'd come to Yomiyama and it was the first time I'd spent any time with this much freedom—unconcerned about the looks of others. If I didn't get back home before nightfall, I knew my grandmother would be incredibly worried, but she would probably call my cell phone when that happened.
Freedom was finally mine to savor!
—is not how I felt, at all. Truly, all I wanted was to go aimlessly around the town on foot, by myself. That was it.
It was just past three in the afternoon…and yet the world seemed strangely washed out. I felt no sign that it was about to start raining, and yet unseasonably dark clouds were piled high overhead. All at once, I got the idea that they were a reflection of my own state of mind…
Only moments before, I had seen a sign with the town's name, "Misaki," on a utility pole.
Another "Misaki," huh? Different characters, but…
I jotted the name down on the so-so map in my mind. I guessed that my current location was, very roughly speaking, in the center of a triangle formed by the hospital, my grandparents' house, and the school.
That was when it happened.
There was a road on a hill with a pretty steep grade.
I could see small shops here and there, each separate from the others, but I was in the midst of a deserted residential area, and suddenly—
BLUE EYES EMPTY TO ALL,
IN THE TWILIGHT OF YOMI.
My eyes stopped on the eccentric sign where these words were written, in cream-colored paint on a painted black board.
An unfriendly three-story building made of concrete. The building had a different look from the private homes nearby: sort of like a multitenant building, but it didn't look as if there were shops or offices on the second and third floors.
The sign poked out almost imperceptibly beside a door that appeared to be the entrance to the first floor. Beside that was an exterior staircase that went directly to the upper floors. An oval fixed-sash window faced the road, a slight distance from the entrance. Was it a show window? If so, there weren't any lights on inside, and it had a plain look—as if it wasn't even being used.
Unconsciously coming to a halt, I looked at the sign again, reading out the words written there in a low voice.
"Blue Eyes Empty to All, in the Twilight of Yomi…what is that?"
Below this was another board, like a placard, this one of old, unvarnished wood. On it were the following words, written with what looked like a calligraphy brush:
VISITORS WELCOME ——STUDIO M
What was this place?
An antique shop, or something like that? Or maybe…
All of a sudden, I felt as if someone, somewhere were watching me. I looked around, but there wasn't even anyone walking down the street, let alone someone staring at me.
The sky was low and darker than ever. The image of this one corner of the town called Misaki being dragged down rapidly into twilight had seized my mind. I walked over to the oval window, half fearful.
Beyond the glass it was dim, preventing me from seeing in very well. I walked right up to the window and brought my face close to the glass to peer inside.
"Waugh!"
A brief cry escaped me and my body froze. A cold numbness surged in an instant from the back of my neck through both shoulders and into my arms.
Beyond the window was…
There was something incredibly strange, and very beautiful.
A round black table was set on the floor, a deep red cloth spread over it. Above that, the top half of a woman was visible, wearing a black veil that she lifted from her face with both hands.
Her skin pale and smooth, her features frighteningly attractive…it was a young girl. The hair falling to her chest was black as jet. And yet her eyes were a deep green. The red dress she wore was, like her body, cut off at the waist.
"…Wow."
It was intensely strange, and very beautiful, this doll of a young girl made almost to life-size. Only the top half of her body had been set out as decoration.
What was this place?
What was this…?
Marveling, I took another look at the sign beside the entrance.
Just then, a crass vibration started in the pocket of my jacket. I was getting a call on my cell phone.
Was my grandmother already worrying?
Convinced of the name I would see, I let out a short sigh and took out my phone. But the liquid crystal screen displayed an unidentified number.
"…Hello?"
As soon as I picked up, I heard a woman's voice. "This is Sakakibara, right?"
I recognized it—after all, I had heard this voice firsthand only hours earlier. It was Ms. Mizuno from the municipal hospital.
"I found out something, about that thing we talked about."
"Really? That was fast."
"An informed coworker of mine who loves to gossip got hold of me, so I asked her right away. She said she'd heard the story from someone else, so this info might not be a hundred percent accurate. But it would be tough to get in and check the paperwork. Is that okay?"
"Definitely."
My hand tightened on the cell phone involuntarily. Another shudder was going through my body.
"Please tell me."
Even as I answered, I couldn't tear my gaze from the doll inside the window.
"Last Monday, there was in fact a patient who passed away," Ms. Mizuno told me. "A girl in middle school."
"Uh-huh?"
"She'd had major surgery at another hospital, then been transferred here. The surgery had been a huge success and she was recovering smoothly, but then suddenly she took a turn for the worse. There wasn't enough time for the doctors to do everything they could have. She was an only child, and apparently her parents were incoherent with grief."
"What was her name?" I asked. I had linked the eyes of the girl in the window, staring out at me from the gloom, to the words blue eyes empty to all. "Do you know the girl's name?"
"Um-m-m…" Ms. Mizuno's voice crackled. The signal was breaking up. "I heard this from the same coworker, and she wasn't very clear about it either…but I got something out of her."
"Uh-huh?"
"The girl's name was Misaki or Masaki, or something like that."