Another Novel Chapter 20 Chapter 15 : August II

I told Mochizuki, who was sharing my room, the overall situation and then slipped out of the room before ten o'clock.

Putting my cell phone in my pocket before I left was a reflex. No, that's not quite true. Everything that had just happened in the dining hall must have imprinted the idea on me. That it was better to have my cell phone with me in case of emergency. After all, I'd connected with Mei's phone once tonight, even if the signal had been terrible…

I encountered no one on my walk down the shadowy second floor corridor from room 202 to room 223. Apparently everyone was following Mr. Chibiki's instructions and obediently shutting themselves in their rooms.

Outside Mei's room, I glanced through a window in the hall.

The wind was as fierce as ever, but it looked as though the rain had stopped. The clouds blanketing the sky had grown diffuse, revealing the ghostly round glow of the moon. In its light, I could make out the somber shapes of the wood surrounding the yard.

Just this side of the forest, in a corner of the back lawn, I noticed a small, one-story building. It wasn't even big enough to be called an annex or a side building. Maybe a shed or a tool house.

Observing the scene absentmindedly, I watched as a window in the building suddenly lit up. Apparently someone had just now turned on a light inside.

It wasn't enough to make me seriously question who it could have been. Obviously, it would be one of the Numatas. They'd probably gone out there to get something they needed.

I moved away from the window, took one slow, deep breath, and then knocked on the door to room 223.

After a long moment, Mei opened the door. She had a lightweight ivory cardigan on over her summer uniform and her complexion looked even more waxen than usual.

"Go ahead," she said tersely, gesturing me in without even a smile. The night wasn't that hot, and yet the air conditioner in her room was pumping at full strength. "Sit down, at least."

It was the same thing she'd told me the first time I'd been allowed up to the living room in her house. I settled myself lightly in the chair at the table next to the window. Mei sat down on the edge of one of the two beds in the room; then, out of the blue, she said, "We were talking about Misaki."

She turned an unflinching gaze on me. I nodded silently.

Naturally, the "Misaki" she was referring to was not the "Misaki" of twenty-six years ago, nor the "Misaki" of her own last name, nor even the "Misaki" that was the town she lived in. She meant her cousin, Misaki Fujioka, who had died at the Yumigaoka Municipal Hospital that day at the end of April.

"I've honestly been thinking about it ever since I first saw you at the hospital, wondering why you got off the elevator at the second basement level."

I spoke as if to refresh my own memory.

"Misaki was hospitalized there, but that was the day she passed away, right? So her body was in the memorial chapel on the second basement level, right? And you said you were taking that doll to her. But even so…"

"You thought it seemed odd?"

"Well, yeah."

"The situation is a little complicated."

Mei lowered her eyes as she spoke.

"I never really wanted to tell anyone this, but…"

"Do you mind if I ask? Will you tell me?"

After a slight pause, her eyes still lowered, Mei replied, "Okay."

"Misaki Fujioka and I were cousins. We were the same age. But—how should I put it? We didn't start out that way."

Mei lifted her eyes slightly as she began speaking, her voice soft. She had chosen such a suggestive way to lead into her story. I cocked my head, struggling to extract the meaning behind her words.

She went on, unconcerned: "Misaki's mother's name is Mitsuyo, and my mother—Kirika's real name is Yukiyo. They were sisters, exactly the same age."

"You mean they're—" I cut in, my head still cocked to one side. "They're twins?"

"Fraternal, apparently. And their last name is Amane. They said that my Grandma Amane never got married her whole life."

I thought "Grandma Amane" was Mei's great-aunt on her mother's side—the old woman in "Twilight of Yomi"?

"They're fraternal twins, but even so they looked a lot alike, and they grew up in the same environment, were raised the same way, all the way to adulthood…Mitsuyo was the first to get married. She married a man named Fujioka. I've heard he was an office worker at a small food-related company, very young and no-nonsense.

"A little while later, Yukiyo married Kotaro Misaki—my father. He's a competent businessman, rich, and flies all over the place all year round. Pretty much the exact opposite of Mitsuyo's husband, you might say.

"And Mitsuyo was the first to have kids, with her husband Mr. Fujioka."

"And that was Misaki?"

Mei nodded in silence, then her eyes slid smoothly in my direction and she added, "And one other."

"What?"

"She had twins."

Mei's eyes dropped again.

"Two girls. Who were also fraternal twins, but they also looked amazingly alike."

Misaki Fujioka had a twin sister?

I cocked my head to one side yet again.

Then could that mean…? Impossible.

"Meanwhile, Yukiyo got pregnant, too, a year after Mitsuyo. But there were problems when her baby was born."

"You told me about that."

"Yukiyo was incredibly, incredibly sad. To the point that she was going crazy. The sucker punch came when she learned that, because of the stillbirth, she wouldn't be able to have any more children in the future."

"…Man."

It was at this point that I started to get an inkling of what was coming.

"The Fujioka family, which had been blessed with twins, also had some financial concerns and weren't sure that they would be able to raise two children at the same time. In contrast, the Misaki household needed to do something to save Yukiyo's spirit, which had fallen into the deepest despair. I'm sure Mitsuyo felt sorry for Yukiyo, too. And so at that point, you could say the balance was struck between supply and demand."

"Supply…and demand?"

"Yeah. You know what I mean, right?" Mei asked, never spoiling her quiet narrative. "One of the twins born to the Fujiokas was sent to the Misakis as a foster daughter."

"So then…"

"That was me. I changed from Mei Fujioka to Mei Misaki when I was around two years old. I don't have any memory that might suggest why I was chosen instead of Misaki."

Mei broke off subtly at that point, and then continued, as if to push the question away.

"I figure it was probably because of our names."

"Your names?"

"If Misaki had been adopted by the Misakis, she'd be Misaki Misaki. I've decided to think that they made the decision based on some stupid reason like that."

A ghost of a smile came over her pale, peach-like lips before quickly disappearing.

"And so, since before I can remember, I've been raised in the Misaki family as Yukiyo's—as Kirika's only daughter. Without ever being told that I was adopted. So when I was younger, I was totally convinced that Mitsuyo was my Aunt Mitsuyo. And I thought that Misaki was my cousin, who was the same age as me and just happened to look a lot like me. Even knowing that we had the same birthday, it was just like, wow! What a coincidence! Chalk it up to our moms being twins, I guess.

"I was in the fifth year of elementary school, I think, when I found out the truth. Grandma Amane let something slip by accident, and then she explained it to me, but that day Kirika…my mother completely lost it. I think she would have kept it hidden from me my whole life if she could have."

Despite the fact that she was revealing something significant about her own origins, Mei's tone was unutterably soft and her expression almost perfectly still. Having no idea how best to react, all I could do for a long while was listen to her talk.

"For her, I was essentially a substitute for her own stillborn child. A replacement. It was something similar for my father, too. I think they cherished me more than most people would have. And when I had the issue with my eye, they did everything they could for me, and my mother even made this special glass eye for me…I'm grateful to them. But…"

I'm one of that woman's dolls.

"But a replacement is still a replacement. At some point, she started to see her own child, the one she should have had, in me."

I'm alive, but I'm not the real thing.

"I'm sure the reason she shuts herself up in her workshop and keeps creating all those dolls is because of the intense heartbreak she still has deep down for her child. I can't help thinking that. And from my point of view, once I found out the truth, she's been nothing but the mother who raised me, not my actual mom…"

Mei's words trailed off, so I interjected a question. "So what did you think when you found out?"

After much fumbling over her words, Mei replied, "I…wanted to see her. My mother, Mitsuyo. And my father."

I thought I saw her cheeks flush with the words, though only slightly.

"I didn't intend to be bitter or blame them for sending me out to be adopted instead of Misaki. I really didn't. I just wanted to see them and have a real talk with them and confirm the fact that these were the people who had given me life.

"But around then, the Fujiokas moved away. Until then, Misaki and I had gone to neighboring elementary schools and our houses were pretty close to each other's, but then Misaki changed schools and even though we lived in the same city, our houses were far apart and we couldn't see each other very easily anymore. Even so, I wanted to see my mother, and I told Kirika that. She got such a sad look on her face when I said that, and then she got so angry…"

"What, because she didn't want to let you see your birth mother?"

"Right." Mei nodded, her shoulders slumping very slightly. "I think I mentioned this before. How she's hands-off about making up rules for where I can go and what I can do, but she worries a lot and gets really sensitive about certain things."

"Yeah…I remember."

"That's what I meant. Getting closer to my mother Mitsuyo. I think it's natural for her to be nervous about it. Especially because the other woman is her own twin sister. Forcing me to have a cell phone is probably a manifestation of that anxiety. We're always connected by it. I kind of understand how she feels, but still…"

Again Mei fumbled for words for a moment.

"But…While all that was going on, I would sometimes meet up with Misaki secretly. Especially after we moved up to middle school and we started participating in more activities. And around that time, she found out that the two of us were originally sisters, too.

"Maybe it was a strange idea, but she and I felt this unbreakable connection. We'd been linked by sharing time together inside the same mother. We were each half of the other, which is such a clichéd thing to say, but that's how it seemed.

"Oh, but in case you're wondering, I don't think it felt that nice. This mysterious sensation…that my other half is right over there…that was the strongest impression I got. Beyond that, well, Misaki had grown up in a family with her real mom and dad, while her other self had been sent to live with a foster family, where she had even lost an eye as a young child…I might have come out a little more cynical than her."

All of a sudden, the windowpane rattled violently. Had the wind shifted direction? I started to feel as if someone were peering in through the window from outside—though that was impossible—and I instinctively turned to look behind me.

"Around then…This was happening last spring. That's when Misaki got sick."

Mei continued with her story.

"It was a really serious illness, in her kidneys. She would have to be on dialysis the rest of her life. The only way to avoid that was to get a kidney transplant."

"A transplant…"

"Yeah. So Misaki got one kidney from her mother, Mitsuyo, and got admitted to a big hospital in Tokyo for the surgery. Actually, I wanted to give her my kidney. I mean, we were twins, even if just fraternal, and we were the same size, so wouldn't you think that's the best option for a transplant? They said transplanting an adult's kidney into a child was pretty hard, what with the size difference and everything, so…

"But apparently there's some guideline that says children under fifteen years old can't be live organ donors, so I couldn't do it. No matter how much I swore I wanted to. Although…Even if the hospital had made an exception, if she—if Kirika had found out, she would have dug her heels in and refused to let me do it."

So that had been the "major surgery at another hospital" Misaki Fujioka had had before coming to the municipal hospital. All at once, Ms. Mizuno's voice reawakened vividly in my mind, speaking those same words over the phone, and I squeezed my eyes shut reflexively.

"The surgery was at the beginning of the year and it was a complete success. But they needed to monitor her progress afterward, so when her condition stabilized, Misaki transferred to the hospital here. Even after the transfer, her recovery was on schedule. I would secretly go and visit her. Without telling Kirika what I was doing, of course.

"Misaki and I talked about all sorts of things, but then she said, 'You have all those amazing dolls at your house. I'm so jealous.' So I made her a promise. I showed her a picture of the dolls in my room and asked her which one she liked, and I told her 'I'll give you the one you like best to celebrate when you get out of the hospital.' And that…"

"That was the doll you took to the memorial chapel that day?"

"…I promised her."

Mei blinked slowly, sadly.

"I never thought she would die like that, all of a sudden…I really didn't. She wasn't having any problems in her recovery and they were saying she'd be able to go home soon. And yet, all of a sudden, she…"

…Right.

Ms. Mizuno had said that, too.

Misaki Fujioka's condition had taken a sudden turn and before anyone could do anything, she had passed away. That had been April 27, a Monday. Ms. Mizuno had told me, "She was an only child, and apparently her parents were incoherent with grief."

Certainly, I'd gotten an answer to the question that had so long been on my mind, but when I imagined what must be going through Mei's mind, my heart clenched tight. It was hard to keep the tears from pouring down my face. However, at the same time…

A critical fact became inescapably clear.

"So she was never your cousin in the first place: You were sisters."

Feeling an intense, tumultuous bewilderment, I reiterated the fact.

"Meaning that you and Misaki were actually second-degree blood relatives…"

"That's right."

"So that's why you said what you did that day?"

My first day at school, the first time I'd encountered her there. During that conversation next to the flower bed where yellow roses were in full bloom, outside Building Zero…

You should be careful. It might have started already.

"When you told me 'It might have started already'?"

"You've got a good memory. That's right."

"So it had started," I said, my eyes locked on Mei's face. "The 'disasters' for this year had already started in April."

"…Probably."

"Why didn't you say so at the time?"

"I…Well, I…"

Without turning her eyes in my direction, Mei once again blinked, slow and sad.

"The fact that something like that had caused her—had caused Misaki's death…I didn't want to believe it. I could accept that something as irrational as a curse had caused it. So I…

"That's why even when you asked me if I had any brothers or sisters, I couldn't say yes. And when you asked me about Misaki, I could only say that she was my cousin. I didn't want to say it."

I remembered that.

After Yukari Sakuragi died as one the "deaths of May," when I'd run into Mei for the second time in the basement of the gallery, she'd said, I guess I've only ever half believed it, in the back of my mind.

First that happened, then in May you came to our school and I told you all that stuff, but I still didn't believe it a hundred percent.

"First that happened" must have meant Misaki's death in April. And then if "telling me all that stuff" had been an allusion to her saying that "it might have started already"…

Mei's head was bent, her fists balled around the sheets on the bed where she sat. Even as I tried earnestly once again to imagine what she must be feeling, I compiled the facts I had come to understand and couldn't help speaking them aloud, sounding out the truth of them.

"The 'disasters' for this year's third-year Class 3 started in April, just like they did for all those other classes. When Misaki Fujioka died in the hospital, she became the first victim…The 'death of April.' Which means…"

The gusts of wind rattling the window barreled into my body and clamped sharply down on my body heat. When that sudden sensation assaulted me, a chill carved down my spine and raised goose bumps over my entire body.

Mei's head moved as if to say, I know…She lifted her face languidly. "I thought of that, too."

"Meaning what?"

"After you got out of the hospital, you first came to school at the beginning of May. That was when we realized there weren't enough desks in the classroom, so everyone believed that this year's 'disasters' were erratic and starting in May. But if Misaki was the 'death of April,' that would mean we were wrong…"

"…Yeah, it would."

Folding both arms over my chest and hugging tight, I nodded.

"Meaning that despite the fact that there were originally enough desks, the 'extra person' had already snuck into the class back in April, before I ever came to North Yomi…"

"So that's why, then?"

After several seconds of silence, I asked the question timidly.

"When I said I was wondering if I might be the 'extra person,' you flat-out told me I wasn't. You told me 'Relax. It's not you.'"

"…I did, yes."

"Is that because you knew the 'disasters' had actually started in April? And since I wasn't in the class in April…?"

"That's part of it…But the main reason is something else."

I felt as if I'd had some sort of premonition that Mei would answer this way.

"Meaning what?" I pursued. "What was your reason?"

"I…"

She started to answer, but then showed some hesitation. Her gaze slipped away into space and for a long moment she didn't even blink, her body frozen and doll-like. Then, finally…

She seemed to have come to a decision. She got up from the bed and turned back to face me. She let me see the eye patch over her left eye, which had been turned away from my view this entire time. Then, with measured movements, she uncovered her eye.

"This eye…"

The special glass eye that rested in her empty eye socket. The "blue eye, empty to all" turned on me.

"This 'doll's eye' told me it's not you."

I didn't understand what she meant right away, of course. Still, I felt a vague foreboding somewhere inside me.

"How did it do that?" I asked, yet another question.

This was Mei's reply, no longer hesitant: "I think I told you this before. This eye can see things that aren't visible. Things that you wouldn't expect to see; things that shouldn't be seen; things that you wish it couldn't see."

"Things you wouldn't expect to see? Things that shouldn't be seen? Like what?"

"I think it's…"

Mei lifted her right hand and with it she covered the eye that was not the "doll's eye."

"The 'color of death.'"

She sounded as if she were intoning a spell.

"The color or the tint of something that's on the other side, with death."

I didn't speak.

"Do you understand? No—I can see you don't."

To be honest, I didn't know how I should respond. However—

"Under normal circumstances, I don't think you could believe me, even after I explain it…But I may as well tell you everything. Will you hear me out?"

When she said that, I nodded deeply without a second thought. And then I looked straight back into the eye she had turned on me. The beautiful and yet utterly vacant blue eye…

"Let's hear it," I told her.

"At first, I didn't really understand what was happening, so I was confused and upset all the time."

Leaving her eye patch off, Mei sat back down on the edge of the bed. She told me the story in the same quiet tone she'd used all night.

"Obviously, I lost the sight in my left eye when I lost the eye. Even if you put a flashlight right up to it, I can't detect even a flicker of light. If I close my right eye, I can't see anything at all. I had the surgery when I was around four years old, so I've been this way as far back as I can remember. Even after Kirika made this 'doll's eye' for me to put in, it was still like that for a while. But then…

"What was it at first? I'm pretty sure it was when one of my father's relatives died and they took me to the funeral. It was either the end of my third year in elementary school or the start of my fourth.

"They said 'This is good-bye' and I put flowers in the coffin…And when I looked at the face of the person who'd died, I felt something really strange. My left eye shouldn't have been able to see anything, but I felt like it was sensing something…Not a shape. More like a color.

"I was shocked. Since that was basically the first time I'd ever felt something in my left eye. And it was a truly strange sensation. When I covered my left eye up and only looked through my right eye, all I saw was the person's face, completely normal. And yet when I used my left eye, too, there was some kind of weird color tingeing my vision, overlaying everything else…"

"What do you mean, a weird color?" I asked.

"I can't really explain it," Mei replied, shaking her head limply. "It was a color I'd never seen with my right eye…a color I never could have seen with it. I can't express it with words like red or blue or yellow or any of the names for colors I know. None of those fit. It's…a color that doesn't exist in our world."

"Not even if you could mix together any colors of paint that exist?"

"…Not even then."

"And that's the 'color of death'?"

"I couldn't have understood that at first…"

Tilting her head back to look at the ceiling, Mei gave a short sigh.

"No one would really talk to me about it. Doctors would examine me, but they never found anything abnormal. They told me I was just imagining it. I tried to believe them, too, but…Every so often, I kept seeing the same thing, and it didn't go away. So—"

Mei slowly returned her gaze to me.

"Over the course of however many years, I've come to understand it. When I sense that color, it means 'death' is there."

"You mean 'death' is there every time you look at a dead person's face?"

"It happened once when I was at the scene of a car accident. There was a man trapped in the driver's seat of a crushed car. His face was covered in blood…He was already dead. I could sense the same color in his face as I'd seen at the funeral.

"And it's not just when I see something in person. Say, on the news, when they show clips or photos from the scene of accidents or wars. It almost never happens with TV or newspapers, but magazines have pictures of dead bodies in them sometimes. When I look at stuff like that, I see it."

"That same color?"

"I'm not sure. There are lots of degrees."

"What?"

"Sometimes I sense it clearly, and sometimes it's hazy. You could call it different shades of the same color. When someone's actually dead, it's clear and when someone's badly hurt and is going to die soon or they're on their deathbed from a terrible illness, then it's comparatively faint."

"So it's not just on dead people that you sense this color."

"Right. In those cases, I think it's because the person is close to 'death.' They've come closer to 'death' than normal, closer than necessary…And their essence is being pulled toward the side of 'death.' That's why it's faint. Less a color and more a shade…You know?

"I can't stand big hospitals. Grandma Amane was hospitalized once to have surgery on a tumor, and she was okay because they'd found it early, but when we went to visit her…That was hard. I was scared. Without even trying, I could see all kinds of patients in her ward tinged by 'shades of death'…

"It's not prophecy or some kind of power like that. I can see the color on people who are badly hurt or seriously ill, but if I were to meet a person who's going to die in an accident later on, I wouldn't see anything. So I think maybe this is like detecting the 'mortality' component a person has in them."

I couldn't offer any response.

"To be honest, I wasn't very excited going to the hospital to visit Misaki, either, because I would sense it sometimes. But I never once sensed it on Misaki. That reassured me; I thought she would be all right, and then…And then all of a sudden she—"

Mei bit down on her lower lip out of grief, or maybe remorse. Her lips were pressed together for a long moment before she went on.

"You must be wondering why this eye can see that sort of thing, how it got that way. I call it the 'color of death,' but I only see it on humans. I don't sense anything for other animals…Isn't that strange? It's so weird.

"I wondered, too, and I was scared, and I hated it. I thought about it from every conceivable angle, but I don't know. I don't understand it, but I can't escape it. All I can do is accept it. And so eventually I started to think of it like this:

"Maybe it's because of the emptiness in dolls."

The dolls are empty.

Ah…This, too, Mei had told me when I'd run into her in the basement of the gallery.

Dolls are emptiness. Their bodies and hearts are total emptiness…a void. That emptiness is like death.

"Dolls are empty, you know. They contain an emptiness that parallels 'death'…Maybe that's why this left eye that I share with them illuminates the 'color of death' in human beings. Or maybe it has something to do with my experience during my eye surgery, where I could have died."

At the time, as I listened to her talk, I remembered feeling as if she had allowed me a glimpse of a secret underpinning the world.

"All I could do was accept that explanation. But there's no way I could ever talk to anyone about this. I never even fully explained it to Misaki. I couldn't. And then, at a certain point, I decided I would just keep this eye covered, especially around other people."

"…I see."

Even as I gave her a solemn nod, in the rational part of my mind I never stopped thinking it over. How seriously could I take this story Mei was telling me?

However, without revealing that to her, I wore an earnest expression as I asked, "So then, what about ghosts? Have you ever seen any? The spirits of people who've died, or anything like that?"

"No…Never," Mei replied, her face just as serious. "I mean, I have no idea if those things exist the way everybody talks about them, or whether they haunt all these different places people claim they do. Though I think, fundamentally, they probably don't."

"What about paranormal photographs?"

Naturally, this was a question with a point.

"Not those, either."

She didn't move.

"Those photos they show on TV and in magazines, they all look so fake. But that's why—"

At that point, Mei's expression seemed to sharpen.

"That's why I wanted to get a look at that photo from twenty-six years ago. I wanted to look at the real thing with this eye and make sure."

"Sure. And when you saw it…"

The day before yesterday, when she'd come to my house and looked at the photos my mother had left behind, she'd taken the eye patch off her left eye. And then she'd asked me—

What about the color?

That question.

You don't see a weird color?

"What did you see?" I asked. "Did you see the 'color of death' on that student in the picture, Misaki Yomiyama?"

"I did," she replied instantly. That was the first time I've ever looked at something people said was a paranormal photo and sensed the color like that. So it has to be…"

My eyes fixed on Mei's lips as she trailed off, and the memory came belatedly back to me.

I know that I'm not "the casualty."

The words she'd spoken that day I'd visited her house and we'd had that long talk in her living room on the third floor.

When I'd pursued her claim and asked, So you can be sure that you're not "the casualty," huh? she had started to explain, I'm telling you…and then she had stopped herself.

"I hope that explains it," Mei said, slowly rising from the bed once again. "When I take my eye patch off and look at you like this, I still can't see the 'color of death' on you. So it's not you. You're not the 'extra person.'"

"And you know that it's not you, either, for the same reason."

"Yeah."

Nodding, Mei picked up her eye patch. She started to put it back in place and then stopped as if thinking better of it.

"If nothing else, I believe in the mysterious abilities of this 'doll's eye.' But if I search deep down inside myself, I think there's still a part of me that doesn't totally buy it. I still find myself doubting it sometimes, thinking maybe it's nothing more than a delusion.

"Maybe it is only a delusion, but I just told you 'it's not a prophecy or some kind of power like that,' right? But I feel like, at least for me, it might be. If Death were to come after me sometime in my future, maybe I'd be able to tell somehow. If I could make the right moves, maybe in certain cases I'd be able to escape that Death…Remember that one time, you said you were worried about me going home alone? And I said I'd be fine? That's why."

…Right.

I did remember that.

"Let's say I believe everything you just told me…"

As I replied, I also rose from my chair. The chills and goose bumps had stopped. Instead, despite the air-conditioning making the room as cold as it was, the back of my neck was slick with sweat.

I was a little over one meter from Mei. She had both her eyes open—left and right—and her gaze was fixed on me. Behind me, the window shook violently once again.

"Then that means you know who it is?"

Who is "the casualty"…?

"That you looked with your 'doll's eye' and now you know who the 'extra person' in our class is?"

Mei shifted her head in an ambiguous way that neither confirmed nor denied what I'd said. Then she replied, "I've tried not to take my eye patch off when I'm at school.

"Ever since I started third year and found out the facts behind the 'curse' from all the rumors, even after the start of the new semester, I've never taken it off. Not even after what happened to Misaki, or after you transferred to our school…Not even after Sakuragi died and I finally started to believe that the 'disasters' were something real, I never…"

"Even though you wrote that message on your desk?"

Who is "the casualty"…?

"Even though you might have been able to tell who it was just by taking your eye patch off?"

"Even if I found out—even if I knew who it was, I didn't think there was anything I could do about it. I didn't think it would help anything to know. I wondered about it, but…You see?"

To be honest, I wasn't much inclined to accept Mei's response just then.

It was true, I'd never seen her without her eye patch on at school. But could she honestly say she had never once let it slip off? Had she never tried to discover the answer to her riddle—Who is "the casualty"? How could she ever stop thinking about it, otherwise?

But then…

Even if she had, that was in the past. Quibbling about it now accomplished nothing. The problem was in the present moment.

"In that case…"

I rested a hand on my chest and took a deep breath. Maybe it was the incredible stress, or maybe just my imagination, but I felt a slight pain that summoned back the memories of that obnoxious collapsed lung.

"What about after that? What about now?"

Now that she'd heard what was on that fifteen-year-old tape that Katsumi Matsunaga had hidden. Now that she could no longer claim there was nothing she could do if she knew who it was.

"Do you know? Can you see them? Is the person here on this trip?"

Mei's eyebrows trembled, as if my barrage of questions had thrown her slightly off balance. She was reluctant to answer. I thought she might even put a hand to her chest and take a deep breath like I had done, when her perplexed gaze fled to one side and she bit down softly on her lower lip again.

Finally, she gave a terse bob of her head.

"The 'extra person' is here."

"…So they did come."

Sweat rolled down my skin under my shirt. I fixed my eyes on Mei's lips.

"Who is it?"

"I don't…"

Just then, a loud noise came from the door to the room and put a stop to the discussion. Someone outside was pounding on the door. Not like a knock—more like someone's body had crashed into it.

"Who's there?"

Simultaneous with Mei's question, the door was knocked open violently. The second I saw who came tumbling inside, I forgot what I'd been doing only seconds before and shouted loudly, "Teshigawara?! What happened?"

Just by looking at him, I could tell something was off.

His breathing was oddly labored, as if he'd just run flat-out all the way here. His shirt clung to the sweat coating his skin. His hair and face were dripping with sweat, too. And yet he was terribly pale. His expression was rigid and his eyes looked unfocused.

"What happened? Is there…"

When I moved closer to him, Teshigawara made a choking noise and he shook his head fiercely. Then he looked from my face to Mei's and back again. Showing no reaction whatsoever to the fact that Mei had her eye patch off, he finally formed the words—between heaving breaths—"Y-yeah. Sorry. L-look, sorry to bust in here, but…Could I ask you guys a question?"

He wanted to ask us a question? That was weird. Unquestionably weird. You feeling okay, Teshigawara? What in the world was…

"I just want to ask something, real quick."

His breathing still ragged, Teshigawara maneuvered past me and headed for the window. The window faced the inner garden, surrounded by the building on three sides, and had a balcony attached that allowed a person to stand outside.

He went up to it, then turned back to look at us.

"S-so, do you guys know anyone named Tomohiko Kazami?"

He threw the question out there.

"Say what?"

My head tilted to one side reflexively. Mei's reaction was about the same.

"Could I get a little context?"

"Look, I'm just asking you a question. Do you know who Kazami is? Could you describe him?"

Repeating his question, though, Teshigawara's voice was as serious as I'd ever heard it.

"Sure, I know him, but that's not—" I answered his question, the weight of a terrible premonition closing in on me. "He's the class representative for the boys in Class 3. Your friend from way back."

"Oh-h-h ma-a-an…"

Teshigawara's face twisted and he groaned.

"…What about you, Misaki? Do you know him?"

"Of course I know who he is."

Teshigawara groaned, "Oh man," again and then feebly murmured, "Y-Yeah, of course."

His knees buckled and he collapsed into a squat. Pale as he was, his face lost even more color and a fine tremor played across his lips.

"Come on, Teshigawara, why are you asking? What happened?"

He stayed squatting on the floor, but when I walked up to him, his head swung haggardly back and forth. "This is bad," he answered in a voice like a smashed toad. "Something real bad…"

"What are you talking about?"

"Maybe I was wrong…"

"Wrong? About what?"

"I…Look, I was convinced he was the 'extra person.' So just now, I…"

"'He'? You mean…"

Was he talking about Kazami?

"Kazami."

"…You didn't."

"I killed him."

He killed him? Had he really murdered Kazami?

"You can't be serious."

"Why would I lie about that?" Teshigawara cradled his head in both hands. "I've been checking into him lately, on the sly. Talking to him about all this stuff from when we were kids, seeing if he remembers it or not, you know. And he…"

"No…Really?"

"He was acting weird, I swear," Teshigawara appealed to us, his voice almost a sob. "I asked about this place, our secret base by the river where we played all the time when we were third-years in elementary school, and he just said, 'I don't remember that.' I asked him about the summer of our fifth year in elementary school, when we wanted to ride our bikes all the way to see the ocean, but in the end we gave up as soon as we were outside town. And he said 'That doesn't sound familiar.' So…"

"So what?"

"I wasn't really sure whether that was a sign or not, at first, but then I thought about it and thought about it, and it started to seem suspicious…So I thought he wasn't himself. That the real Kazami had died a long time ago and this Kazami was the 'extra person' who'd snuck into our class this spring…"

Wow, I mean—Teshigawara had seriously misunderstood things. The "extra person"/"casualty" probably wasn't going to act like that.

As far as I understood from Mei's and Mr. Chibiki's explanations, you couldn't ask if it was the "real thing" or a "fake." It was the "real thing" through and through: The actual person who'd died came back to life without any awareness that they had already been a "casualty" and slipped back into the world. So it didn't mean anything if they could remember stuff from when they were little. It wouldn't be a clue or give you any proof to help you identify them. And yet…

The kinds of childhood experiences Teshigawara was talking about were memories that might have faded or disappeared for anyone. And yet…

"And then tonight, a little while ago, I…tricked him into coming with me."

His voice thickening now and again, Teshigawara described what had happened.

"I was sharing a room with him, but I didn't want anyone in the next room to overhear, so I took him somewhere else. I'd found a rec room at one end of the second floor, so I said we should go check it out…

"When we got there, I psyched myself up and then I tore into him. You're not the real Kazami, are you? You're the 'extra person' in our class, aren't you? He got all shaken up, then he panicked, and then finally he blew up at me. So I thought, man, look how guilty he's acting. And like it said on that tape, if he dies…I had to return him to Death to save everyone."

"…So you killed him?" I controlled my voice, which was threatening to turn a little hysterical. "Really?"

"At first it was like a shoving match with a bunch of arguing. I didn't think 'Okay, time to kill him' and then start hitting him or anything…Aggh, I don't even know what I was thinking. Somehow we wound up outside on the balcony. And then before I realized it, he…"

"He fell?"

"…Yeah."

"Did you push him?"

"…I might have."

"And that killed him?"

"He was lying on the ground, and he wasn't moving. His head was bleeding, too."

"Okay…"

"But right then, I got spooked. I couldn't stop shaking."

Teshigawara lifted one knee to his chest and dug into his sweaty hair with both hands.

"I ran out into the hallway…and came here. 'Cause I knew you were coming to Misaki's room. I thought I should tell you guys first."

"What about Mochizuki?"

"You can't rely on that guy."

"…In any case, why did you ask us those questions?"

"'Cause of that tape. Remember?"

Teshigawara lowered his hands from his hair and looked up at my face. His bloodshot eyes were rimmed with tears that seemed ready to pour down his face any second.

"Like Katsumi Matsunaga said, after he killed the 'extra person' on the camping trip fifteen years ago…You heard what he said, right? As soon as the 'extra person' died, he ceased to exist. No one in the whole class remembered that he'd ever been there, except for Matsunaga, 'cause he's the one who did it. That's why I…"

"You wanted to make sure if Kazami was really the 'extra person' or not."

"Right. But you said you know who he is."

Teshigawara's shoulders heaved. His voice desperate, he asked me, "Did I really get it wrong? Sakaki—did I?"

Searching for a way to answer him, I saw two possibilities at this point, when considered calmly.

The first was that the "extra person" was not Tomohiko Kazami, just as Teshigawara feared. In other words, the possibility that Teshigawara had "gotten it wrong."

The other was the possibility that even if the "extra person" was Tomohiko Kazami, he wasn't dead yet. As far as I knew from what Teshigawara had told us, he hadn't gone down from the balcony to check if Kazami was truly deceased. So he might still be…

"He might not be dead."

"What?"

"Falling from the second story wouldn't necessarily kill him. He could still be breathing but just unconscious."

"Oh, man—"

Teshigawara got unsteadily to his feet and turned to the window. He reached out, practically pitching forward, to open the window and stepped out onto the balcony. I hurried after him.

A humid breeze blew against us. In the sickly light of the moon, pouring down between the clouds…

Pressing his chest against the railing of the balcony, slippery still from the rain, Teshigawara stretched his right arm out diagonally ahead. To the left of the front door, on one end of the building's second floor…There we saw the cloudy glow of several lit windows. That must have been the rec room.

"There…It was over there."

Teshigawara pointed in that direction.

"Argh. I can't see him from here. It's on the other side of that bush…"

It was at this point that I took my cell phone from my pocket. I was planning to call the police or an ambulance. Spotting my movement, Teshigawara said, "H-hey, Sakaki. You'd sell your friend out to the cops?"

"Don't be stupid!" I replied, my mind flashing back to that detective I'd met.

That older detective who'd questioned me about Ms. Mizuno's accident, and whom I had run into once on the street outside the school. His name was Oba. He'd told me he had a daughter in elementary school. He'd written his cell phone number on the back of a business card and told me, "If you ever think I might be able to help…" I had put the number in my address book, in case there was ever anything. If we told him what had happened, he would probably understand, to a certain extent.

I moved away from Teshigawara and rushed to try the number. However…

It didn't go through.

When I checked the screen, I saw a single bar. But the phone wouldn't connect.

"Sakakibara?"

I heard Mei's voice. She was looking through the window at me, not coming out onto the balcony.

She was quietly and yet emphatically shaking her head. And then she told me, in a low, controlled voice that Teshigawara wouldn't hear: "It's not Kazami."

"…Oh."

So her "doll's eye" had told her "it's not Kazami." The "extra person" was someone else.

"Teshigawara!" I called, with force. "First of all, we need to go find out if he's still alive. If he is, he needs first aid right away. Agreed?"

"Y-yeah," Teshigawara replied without conviction, pulling his chest away from the railing.

Faced with the sagging defeat of this bleached puppet, I said, "Don't give up and throw yourself over yet." And I didn't mean it as a joke.

"Um, right."

"Hurry up. Let's go."

When we ran out of room 223, we headed straight for the front door. We ran down the corridor on the second floor until we reached the staircase in the center of the building, then ran down the stairs to the foyer. And on the way there…

I got a sudden strange feeling.

A premonition, a feeling in my bones…No, it wasn't quite that. Thinking about it rationally, there was no way it could have been anything as supernatural as that.

An echo…Yes. I felt an echo of something.

A strange kind of echo. An unsettling echo. A terrible echo. Thinking about it rationally, it had to be because of something I'd glimpsed in my quick scan of the area when we came down the stairs.

Teshigawara and Mei headed for the front door without a backward glance. I was the only one whose feet came to an involuntary halt.

I was in the foyer late at night, with the main lights all turned off. The hallway stretched away as if being sucked into the gloom. And there…

A single door stood open, though only a few centimeters. That's what I'd glimpsed.

The door to the dining hall?

No light spilled from within. It was darker even than the darkness of the hallway. Deep within the darkness visible through the gap in the door, I sensed something—something intensely disturbing. I suppose that was the origin of the "echo" I'd felt.

I was reluctant to call the others back. I drew nearer to the door without them and took the dully gleaming knob in my hand.

I felt it slip.

Was it sweat? No, this wasn't sweat. It was…

I took my hand off the knob and turned my palm up to squint at it. In the darkness, I could just barely make something out. It wasn't sweat. It was something darker that stained my palm. It was…

…Blood?

Blood? But why?

I had the option to withdraw and go after the others, who had rushed out ahead of me. But I couldn't do it. Before I'd even thought everything over, I had pushed the door open and moved into the dining hall. It was too dark to be able to see much, so I was moving ahead one step at a time, feeling along the wall, when…

"Ack!"

I let out a wild cry because, out of nowhere, something grabbed my ankle.

"Agh! Wh—"

What was that? Who was it?

I leapt back.

Something—someone was lying facedown on the floor. Since my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I could make out the shape thanks to the frail beams of moonlight slipping in through the windows at the back of the room.

"Wh…What the?"

I spoke to it, terrified.

"Who is it? What are you…"

It looked as if they were dressed in a student's summer uniform. And they were wearing pants, so it was a boy's uniform.

Since he was lying facedown, I couldn't see his face. I didn't know who it was. His right hand was thrown out in front of him. He must have grabbed my ankle with that hand. I'd been totally surprised by how sudden it had been, but the force behind the grip was incredibly feeble.

"Are you okay?"

I went back to his side and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, are all right? Why are you…"

His body twitched in response to my voice. I clamped my hand around his outstretched right hand. And then…

The same slippery sensation I'd felt on the doorknob was on his hand, too.

"Are you hurt?"

He groaned in a low, strained tone.

I put my hand back on his shoulder and tried to pull him up. But…

"Don't bother…"

A reedier voice than any I might have imagined escaped his lips.

"It's no use…"

"Why not?" I asked, when finally I noticed. On the white shirt he wore, a dark stain ran down his back to his hips. The shirt was soaked with blood.

"You…Were you stabbed?" I asked. I pressed my own cheek against the floor to get a look at his face. The dark and the fact that even his face was smeared with blood made it hard to recognize him, but…

"Maejima?"

Maejima, who'd been the one untiringly rubbing Wakui's back when he suffered that asthma attack after dinner. Maejima with the small frame and baby face, who was for all that actually a warrior in the kendo club. I was almost positive it was him.

"How did this happen?"

I brought my mouth close to his ear.

"Did someone stab you? Did someone…"

He gave another low, pained moan, and then finally spoke in panting intervals. Almost as if he was using up the last of his strength.

"P-pulled a kitchen…kitchen knife…"

"A kitchen knife? What happened?"

"Pulled it…Th-the care…taker…"

"The caretaker?" I shook Maejima's shoulder. "Mr. Numata? What did he do?"

I asked him question after question, but I got no further answer. I looked into his face, and this time his eyes were closed.

He must have lost consciousness. Or could he have died? I couldn't calm down and get myself together enough to check…

I lifted myself up and, battling the fear that had crystallized all in a moment, I started walking. Even without finding a light switch, just by the light of the moon I could make out the door to the kitchen all the way at the back of the room.

That old guy is so fishy.

The comments Teshigawara had treated me to only a few hours earlier in this very room played over again in my mind.

Ever since we got here, he's had this scary look in his eye when he's looking at us, y'know?

No…It couldn't be.

I bet you there are tons of old men who just lose it one day and kill their own grandkids or whatever.

He couldn't have…

Better not take your eyes off that guy.

When I'd reached the door to the kitchen, yet again I felt a strange hint of something. This time it wasn't due to information I'd gotten visually. It was auditory and olfactory…

I could hear a faint, unusual sound from behind the door; I didn't know what.

I could smell a faint, unusual odor—yes, from behind this door, but I didn't know what.

But…

You shouldn't open it. Don't open it. Defying the internal warnings, I reached out for the doorknob.

Instantly, my palm felt heat. Luckily it wasn't bad enough to burn me, but the knob itself was surprisingly hot.

Maybe I should have given the idea up at that point. But without hesitating, I turned the knob and then forcefully kicked the door the rest of the way open.

In that instant, I realized the source of the odd sound and of the odd smell. It was a fire.

Flames were burning through the entire room.

Intensely hot air and smoke billowed out at me, and I retreated hastily. I raised an arm in front of my face and stopped breathing. Even as I did it, in that same moment…

I caught sight of something, obvious in the light of the flames.

The form of that man lying in the kitchen, surrounded by flames.

His head was pointed in my direction. The fire was threatening to catch on his clothes any second. Even so, he didn't even flinch, possibly because he was already dead. Several objects plunged deeply into his neck and face were probably the immediate cause of death…And, if I wasn't mistaken, those objects were the metal skewers we'd used at dinner.

The flames raged. Even if there had been a fire extinguisher handy, it didn't seem as if that would stop them.

I ran back to where Maejima was lying, and shouted at him over and over. "Hey! Maejima! It's bad! There's a fire…Come on! If we don't get out of here, we're going to die!"

Maejima was breathing. I saw a tiny movement in response to my voice.

I was worried about his wounds and the amount of blood he'd lost, but there was absolutely no way I was leaving him here. I urged him, "Stay with me now!" over and over again in order to keep him alert, and somehow I managed to lift him up and drag him out to the hallway. The flames in the kitchen were already spreading into the dining room by that point.

I was pulling the door closed, thinking, If I can just stop the fire from advancing, even for a second…when—

"Where'd you go, Sakakibara?"

Someone called to me from the foyer. It was Mei. She must have come back to look for me since she'd lost sight of me.

"Why are you in—what the…?"

She stopped her advance toward me.

"Who is that?"

She wore her suspicion openly.

"What happened?"

"He's hurt really badly," I answered, shouting. "But there's a fire in the kitchen!"

"A…A fire?"

"The caretaker…Mr. Numata is in there. Dead. He's been murdered. And I bet the person who did it started that fire, too."

Even as I was telling her the situation, my tongue tripping over the words, a thought whispered through my mind: Oh.

…It was then.

When I'd peered through a window in the hallway to look outside before going into Mei's room at ten o'clock.

I'd seen a building like a storage shed in the backyard and a light on inside it. I'd accepted it at the time, thinking that the caretakers had probably gone to get something they needed out of it. But that…

It might have been the killer going in there after murdering Mr. Numata, or maybe going in before killing him to grab some kerosene or something to start the fire afterward.

"Is that Maejima? What happened to him?"

"He was lying in the dining hall. It looks like he's been stabbed in the back with a knife. It's got to be the same person who did this."

"Are the cuts deep?"

"He's lost a lot of blood."

With Mei's help, each of us supporting Maejima on one side, we headed for the foyer. The wide-open front door finally came into sight.

"Can you get him out on your own?" Mei asked.

"Probably. But he needs treatment soon."

"You're right."

"Where's Teshigawara? And Kazami?"

"Kazami is fine. The ground is muddy from the rain, so that made it softer. He twisted his leg pretty badly, but he didn't hurt his head much. He woke up, too."

"That's good."

Taking on the dead weight of Maejima's body, I hurried toward the front door. As I went, Mei spun in a 180.

"Hey…Where are you going?"

"I have to tell everyone about the fire."

She was totally right. But if she went back up to the second floor now…

It was dangerous. Naturally there was the danger presented by the fire, but there might still be a murderer roaming the building with a knife, too…

"Hold on, Misaki."

But by the time I spoke up to stop her, she had already run up the stairs. I wanted to go after her, but I had Maejima, who couldn't move on his own. Feeling torn, I lifted his weight and took him outside.

I saw Teshigawara coming toward the front stoop. Beside him was Kazami, looking pained and caked in mud. His glasses were gone and had probably flown off his face when he fell. He was dragging his right leg behind him in obvious pain, and Teshigawara was lending him a shoulder.

"No! Get away from the building!" I ordered.

"Huh?" Teshigawara's eyes landed on me. "Who's that? Maejima? Sakaki, where did you…"

"There's a fire!" I shouted. "A fire started in the kitchen, and I don't think we can put it out. It might be arson."

"No way! Are you kidding me?"

"Someone attacked Maejima. He's hurt really bad."

"Are you for real?!"

"Look, we have to get out of here!"

"R-right."

Each of us helping one of the wounded—Teshigawara with Kazami and me with Maejima—we got away from the stoop. Hobbling, slow and dragging, we moved down the path into the front yard.

At length, there came a violent noise from behind us. Turning around, to the right on the first floor—on the side where the dining hall was—I saw a window shatter and fire come roaring out. Fanned by the night's strong winds, the fire crawled up the outside wall of the building as I watched.

Just then I heard a shrill alarm bell from inside the lodge.

The automatic fire detector must have activated. Or else someone had activated it by hand. Either way, this ought to make everyone in their rooms on the second floor aware that something strange was happening. Come on, everybody…Before the fire reaches you…

I could hardly stand still because I was so worried about Mei's safety, but I knew I couldn't just dump Maejima here, as badly hurt as he was. There was Kazami to consider, too. He wasn't walking anywhere on his own, so I couldn't just ask Teshigawara to take Maejima for me, either.

The first thing I had to worry about was getting Maejima somewhere the fire wouldn't reach him.

Driving Teshigawara on, I summoned all the speed I was capable of to get away from the building. By now, several students who had been alerted to the fire were rushing out the front door and side exits.

They were all panicked by the flames that continued to mount in intensity and spread over the building. They ran past us and fled toward the gate, trying to save themselves. Every last one of them was dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt or in pajamas. There were even some people who'd come running out in their slippers.

I couldn't get my body to respond the way I wanted it to, and I grew frantic. The heat and smoke really were chasing me down. In the roar of the flames I could hear, now and then, the sound of windows shattering. The sound of the building creaking.

At some point, Maejima's body suddenly felt much heavier.

"Stay with me. Fight," I called to him, but there was no apparent reaction. No way he'd start walking around on his own…

In the midst of all this…

I heard a scream.

Though it mingled with the many other strange noises rising out of the fire, it was clearly discernible…as a person screaming. A sharp, high-pitched shriek.

It came from above us, off at an angle.

When I looked up, I saw a person on a second-floor balcony. It was a room maybe two doors closer in from room 223, which we'd rushed out of not so long ago. I didn't think the flames had reached that area yet, but…I guessed that they weren't able to go into the hallway and were calling for help from the balcony.

…No.

I knew immediately that wasn't it.

I could see two people on the balcony.

From her build and hairstyle, one of them looked like Izumi Akazawa. The scream had probably come from her. And the other was…

"Stop it!"

The piercing voice shouting those words superimposed itself on my view of Akazawa.

"What's your problem?! Why are you—"

My eyes popped in horror. The other person on the balcony was, at this very moment, attempting to attack Akazawa. Their right hand was lifted high above their head. It might have held the very same knife that had stabbed Maejima…

"Stop!" Akazawa screamed. "Help me!"

The attacker and the victim—their forms tangled together on the balcony. And just then—

A monstrous sound deafened me. At the same moment, a blinding pillar of flame exploded from one corner at the back of the building…

An explosion?

That was an explosion.

Right—like the gas line in the kitchen. Considering the location, a propane gas cylinder must have been installed somewhere. Had that caught fire?

I raised both arms reflexively, trying to protect my face from the waves of heat and the sparks raining down on me. Losing its support, Maejima's body slumped into a heap on the ground. Even as I rushed to do something, though…

My eyes went back to the second-floor balcony. And I caught the precise moment that the two grappling figures toppled over the railing, still locked together.

"What's happening?" I murmured, overcome, averting my eyes. I fixed my grip on Maejima's arm. "Are you okay? Come on, keep pushing."

Pressing one knee against the mud, I struggled mightily to lift him up, but there was no response. When I relaxed my hold, Maejima's body crumpled once more to the ground. He was like an inflatable toy without any air left in it.

"Maejima…Maejima?"

I called to him again and again and felt his wrist for a pulse. I checked his breathing and his heartbeat. But…

"Oh, Maejima…"

He was dead.

I felt myself start to become rooted in place, consumed by a sense of futility and powerlessness more than fear. I quickly and firmly shook my head and started, however slightly, to get my mind back on track, but at that moment…

Where's Mei?

An intense alarm, swelling up rapidly.

I wonder if she's okay.

I have to go back and look for her, I thought, panicked. But…No, it was pointless.

Mei was…

She'd let everyone on the second floor know that a fire had broken out, but had she managed to get out safely after that? The front door wasn't the only exit. She might have gone out a different door, or through a window…

I'm sure she made it, I told myself desperately.

I'm sure she made it. Otherwise, how much would I curse myself for being unable to stop her back there?

The explosion had given the fire even more strength, and it was starting to spread to the entire lodge. Dawdling around right here wasn't going to be safe much longer. "I'm sorry." Those were my last words to Maejima before I left him there. I was just starting to turn on my heel when I caught sight of…

Something that was hard to believe.

Slowly, from behind the shrubs where the two people on the balcony had fallen immediately after the explosion, that person appeared.

Beneath the smears of blood and dirt and ash, it was impossible to figure out what color their clothes had been originally. Their hair and the exposed skin of their arms and face were the same. It was almost impossible to distinguish their features with only a quick look.

So after grappling and falling from the second floor…that person was the one to escape with their life. So Akazawa was…dead? Or had that person finished her off?

Though they dragged one leg behind them and the opposite shoulder slumped, their body twisted grotesquely…

That person was shuffling toward me under their own power. Through the rising smoke, lit up red by the flames devouring the lodge, the movement struck me like the shambling of an undead creature.

They were coming straight toward me. There were only a few meters between us. They really were carrying a knife of some sort in their right hand. In the ocher filth on their face, two bugging eyes flashed. An instant later, goose bumps pricked the sweaty skin that covered my body.

I had imagined this countless times when I was reading novels. I'd even watched performances of it in movies…But I had never seen it in the real world. Not once. Nothing like this…

…Crazed eyes. The eyes of a person who had completely lost their mind.

They were even different from Mr. Kubodera's when he had slit his own throat in the classroom. His eyes had been utterly vacant. At least his eyes hadn't been this terrifying, hadn't held this threatening glint.

Those eyes…

They were looking at me.

As soon as I realized I was being watched, I bolted from the spot with all the speed I was capable of. I truly believed I was going to be attacked and killed.

I ran. I thought I might have heard someone scream once or twice behind me. I guess those were students who weren't so quick to run and got attacked by that person. I didn't stop and I didn't turn around to look, though. I was too scared.

I kept running through the front yard until finally I saw the shadow of the front gate ahead of me, and just then—a sharp pain jolted through my chest. Unable to bear it, I brought my feet to a halt. I pressed both hands down on my chest and fell to my knees on the ground.

The pain only flared once, and then I started to feel better right away.

"Couldn't…give me a break…just this once?" I muttered, then tried to stand. I impulsively looked behind me.

That person—the killer was dragging one leg. I think I put some good distance between us. Maybe they're not coming after me anymore. Yeah, it's probably okay now…

However.

That person was still there.

With an appearance that suggested they had just this moment been reborn from the fires of hell.

True, there was a somewhat greater distance between us than before, but they were still coming straight at me at the same pace.

I tried to run, blinded by panic, but my foot caught in a patch of mud. I pitched over with a complete lack of grace and banged my hip hard. Even as I groaned in shock, I tried desperately to stand up again. But I couldn't get any strength behind the effort quickly enough. At long last, I stood myself back up and once again looked behind me. My blood curdled at the steadily closing distance between my enemy and me, and another pang went through my chest.

I can't get away…

For one instant, defeat skimmed through my mind.

I can't get away. Is there nowhere to run? So now it's my turn, out here. Like the caretaker who got murdered in the kitchen. Like Maejima. Like Akazawa.

"Don't come near me."

Feeble words of rebellion that I could only barely vocalize.

"Don't. Not another step…"

That person—the crazed murderer's deformed steps never halted. Instead, they seemed to speed up. The hand holding the knife swung up. Behind them, the roar of the flames was extraordinarily violent. Smoke billowed up everywhere. When suddenly—

A black shape appeared from the flank.

Before the words What? Who? had even formed, the shape leapt viciously at the killer and knocked the knife from their hand. The next moment, the killer was sent somersaulting and planted on their back on the ground. Instantly, the shape was leaning over them.

"Oh!" I gawked. "Mr. Chibiki?!"

By the time I shouted, he was already putting an end to it.

The shape moved away from the killer, who had ceased moving. It stood up and turned to look at me.

"Mr. Chibiki!"

"That was close," the all-in-black librarian murmured in response. "When I got back from the hospital, all this was going on. I was aghast. I made it this far when I saw this person had a knife and was…"

Adjusting his dirty, black-framed glasses, Mr. Chibiki threw his gaze back to the face of the killer.

"I didn't know who it was, but I could tell right away that something wasn't right."

"The caretaker was murdered, in the kitchen."

"The caretaker?"

"Yes. Mr. Numata."

"Then…"

"I think that's where this started. Then Maejima got stabbed, and the fire started…"

"She did all that?"

Mr. Chibiki cast his eyes down once more to the face of the killer—Mrs. Numata.

"Why would she do such a thing?" he started to wonder, then shook his head emphatically. As if telling himself there was no point in wondering about it. That this was just another of the "disasters" for this year…

"Anyway, you need to get out of here," Mr. Chibiki ordered, lifting his eyes from her. "You should get outside the gate. Quickly."

"Er…yes, sir."

"You go ahead. I'll take care of her… of Mrs. Numata."

"Huh?"

"She's merely unconscious. I can't just leave her here."

"But…"

"I'll be fine. You saw what I just did, didn't you? Despite how I look on the outside, I know what I'm doing. I'm still active at a martial arts school."

He must have known judo or kenpo or something like that. This was no time to be impressed, but it was true: It was pretty out of step with how Mr. Chibiki looked.

"Now go on, hurry."

I paused, blank.

"I said go!"

"…Yes, sir."

Among the people who had fled beyond the gate, I located Teshigawara's face first. He was leaning against one of the stone gateposts, staring vacantly as the Sakitani Memorial Hall went up in flames. Kazami was beside the opposite gatepost. He was sitting on the ground with one knee up, both arms wrapped around his leg. He had his forehead pressed against his kneecap, his body rigid.

"Hey…Sakaki."

Teshigawara noticed me and raised a hand limply.

"Where's Maejima?"

I couldn't answer his question.

"…Too late for him, huh?"

Still impossible to answer.

"Mr. Chibiki got back. He ran in to see what's going on."

"…I saw him."

As I replied, my eyes searched for Mei.

"…He saved me."

"He told us to cool it right here. To wait for the ambulance and firefighters to come."

This was such a raging fire. Even from far, far away, people would be able to tell at a glance that something wasn't right. Even if direct communication from the site of the fire wasn't possible, the fire department was probably already moving on it.

"Are these the only people who got away?" Surveying the area, I saw five people around the gate besides me. Mei, at least, was not among them. "Where's Misaki?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, she's not here."

Teshigawara clawed at his dirty brown hair.

"Neither is Mochizuki, huh? It's fine. I'm sure they both ran off somewhere else."

I was totally unable to convince myself to be that optimistic—to surrender all thought like that. Unable to sit still, I turned my back on Teshigawara. I took a few quick steps away from the gate, and stared hard at the flames that continued to burn the night sky…And then—

"Mei Misaki."

Speaking her name in a low, yet forceful voice, directed in some unseen direction, I searched the pockets of my pants. I found my cell phone. It hadn't broken from the impact when I fell over. I pulled up Mei's number from my call history, then pushed the call button.

Please.

Literally praying, I pressed the phone to my ear.

One time tonight, I knew, this phone had connected with hers. So do it one more time. Just one more time, right now…

…Please connect.

Please. Even if it's just for one second.

The short electronic buzz of "attempting connection." It repeated enough times that I should have given up, and then—

The sound changed to a ring. After the fourth ring, someone picked up.

"…Sakakibara?"

There was a lot of interference that made it hard to hear, but I knew: that was Mei's voice.

"Thank goodness…I can't believe I got through."

With my free hand, I covered my mouth and the end of the phone in order to focus my voice and said, "This is Misaki, right? So you're safe."

"What about you? And everyone else?"

"We ran to the gate. But not everybody's here. Maejima's gone, but Mr. Chibiki came back and he saved me, and the murderer was Mrs. Numata and…"

I realized I was blathering on with no real point, and I cut myself off abruptly.

"Where are you?"

I asked the question foremost on my mind.

"The backyard," Mei answered. "Near something that looks like a storage shed."

She was there? Then…

"Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," she said, her tone listless. Then, after an ambiguous pause, she continued. "But I can't move yet."

"What?"

She was fine, but she couldn't move? I didn't understand what she meant. But before I even tried thinking about it, I said, "I'm coming. I'll be right there, so stay where you are."

But when I said that—

"You shouldn't come here."

That was Mei's response. Kksshhhksshhk…Unpleasant static overlaid itself on her voice.

"Why not?"

"You shouldn't come, Sakakibara."

"Come on, why not?"

"I…"

The noise started to get much worse, and her words were getting cut off. I tightened my hand, pressing the phone against my ear so that I wouldn't miss a thing.

"I…have to stop it."

"Do what?"

Stop it?…She couldn't mean…

A fuzzy image buried deep in my mind swelled up larger just then and took on concrete form. She couldn't mean…

"Misaki, you aren't saying…"

I spoke louder, but through the Kkshhhkkkshhhk, vmmmvvvmmvmvm noises growing worse and worse, I don't know how much of what I said got through to her.

"Is anyone with you over there?"

"I'm…"

"Who is it? Misaki?"

"…might regret it, so I…"

…And that was it.

Her voice disappeared, almost like a fade-out. In that brief instant on this midsummer night of such cruel "disasters," the tenuous thread that had almost miraculously connected us snapped. The clock was approaching midnight and we were closing in on August 9.

I started running immediately, without a word of explanation to anyone.

The flames that continued to burn through the building serving as my light, I ran full-speed away from the gate, down the path that wound around to the east side of the backyard. Ash created by the fire was dropping on the ground, already damp from the rain, making it extremely difficult to find any purchase. But somehow I managed not to go sprawling even once, and, at last, the storage shed I sought came into view. I don't think it had taken even five minutes.

The heaving of the wind paired with the roar of the mounting flames so nearby. Distinct from those sounds, I became aware of the distant, resonating sirens of fire trucks…

As I ran up to the storage shed, I searched for Mei.

A generous estimate would put the shed at a distance of less than ten meters from the main house, so depending on the direction of the wind, I wouldn't be surprised to see it catch light at some point. But luckily, the building was still intact—it seemed.

"Misaki!" My voice was strangled. "Where are you? Misaki!"

There was no answer. But—

I had circled around to the north side of the shed, continuing to call her name, when finally I spotted her. She—Mei was standing by herself, her back against the wall of the shed.

"There you are…"

Her blouse and skirt, as well as her hair, face, arms, and legs…All were caked in ash. But just as she'd told me over the phone, she didn't seem to have any major wounds…

"Misaki?"

When I called to her, she turned a fraction toward me. But her gaze returned immediately to its original object. And then…

She was looking at something at a distance of four or five meters…It was someone besides her—another person.

The person was lying facedown on the ground. Their entire body was covered in even more ash than Mei's. Plus their lower body was buried under several large pieces of heavy lumber. Given that, naturally I couldn't easily tell who it was, or even judge their height or gender from where I stood.

"The force of the explosion knocked over the lumber," Mei said, her eyes locked on the person. She didn't have her eye patch over her left eye. "So they can't move anymore…"

"We have to help them."

I said it without a second thought; then my breath caught with a gulp.

Mei was silently shaking her head from side to side.

That was when I noticed she was holding something in her hands. It was…a pickax? Her right hand gripped the haft and the red-painted "head" part was resting on the ground. It must have been lying around nearby. Or she'd gone and gotten it out of the shed.

"We can't do that." Without ever turning her eyes toward me, Mei went on to declare, "That's the 'extra person.' So we…"

That idea had gelled while I was running over here—that she might have been with the "extra person" right at that moment. But even so, a strangled cry escaped me. "Wha—?…Really?"

"I can see it…They have 'the color of death.'"

"Did you…just now see it?"

"…It was a while ago."

Her voice sounded sad, somehow.

"I knew, but I couldn't say anything."

Very, very sad, somehow…

"But…Well, after I heard that tape for myself, I thought: I have to stop it. I never expected such terrible things to happen tonight. I have to put a stop to it. If I don't stop it now, everyone will…"

Mei lifted her face sharply. She put both hands back on the haft of the pickax.

"Wait—" I jumped out in front of her. My body moved reflexively.

I proceeded then toward the person lying facedown on the ground, who Mei had proclaimed to be the "extra person." I wanted to see who it was for myself.

I'd thought the person was unconscious, but just then they moved dramatically. With a pained moan, they planted both hands on the ground and lifted their upper body to try and slither out from under the lumber. But, utterly exhausted, the person fell back into the dirt.

I walked up to them. I went right up beside them and bent over, holding my breath as I looked into their face.

Their eyes, vacantly wide, met mine by chance.

"Uh…"

Her lips trembled.

"…Koichi."

"N…" I barely avoided howling. "No…"

…It couldn't be.

Was this some kind of joke?

I blinked repeatedly, and looked back at the person's face. But it was still, without question, her.

"You mean this is the 'extra person'?" I staggered back to an upright position and turned to look at Mei. "Her? Really?"

Mei nodded mutely, then lowered her eyes.

"No…Not her. How could that even…"

Vvvmmmmm…A familiar, low-pitched sound was coming from somewhere.

It started rumbling, as if trying to grind down my heart—my thoughts and my memories. The rumble that, once noticed, became unspeakably menacing and unnatural. During intervals in its hum…

How many times have I visited this town now?

This was my—Koichi Sakakibara's—soliloquy, delivered at the start of it all, when I moved here in April from Tokyo.

Maybe three or four times in elementary school. Was this the first time since starting middle school?…Or maybe not.

Or maybe not…?

By the way, Koichi.

On some phone call or other with my father, currently in India.

How does Yomiyama seem, a year and a half later? Not much different?

Yomiyama, a year and a half later…?

Why? Why?

And that was the myna bird my grandparents kept as a pet.

Cheer…Cheer. Up.

The enthusiastic, shrill voice of that bird.

They named it "Ray."

Ray? Yes, of course. The bird's name is Ray.

It was—and this gets another "probably" attached—two years old. They'd bought it on an impulse at a pet shop two years ago, in the fall.

Two years ago, in the fall…In other words, a year and a half ago. When I was a first-year in middle school.

Was this the first time since starting middle school?…Or maybe not.

…Yomiyama, a year and a half later.

A year and a half ago, I'd…

When someone dies, there's a funeral.

I don't…I don't want to go to any more funerals.

That had been my grandfather, who was turning senile.

Poor, poor Ritsuko. It's so sad, Ritsuko and Reiko both…

Ritsuko and Reiko both…

"…Oh," I muttered, almost entirely vapor-locked. "So that's what it was."

Vvvvmmmmm…The continuous rumbling of that creepy, low-pitched sound that threatened to deaden all thought was pressing down relentlessly on a corner of my brain.

Do teachers die, too?

I remembered a conversation with Mr. Chibiki, I don't remember when it was.

If they're the head teacher or the assistant teacher, yes. Because they're members of third-year Class 3.

If someone is a member of the class—of third-year Class 3—they might die in the "disasters." In which case—of course—they could also come back as the "extra person"…

But…

"Come on, really?"

Even so, I couldn't stop myself from checking one more time with Mei. It was not, after all, something I could believe right away just because she told me to.

"Is she…Ms. Mikami—I mean, is Reiko really the 'extra person'?"

"At school, I'm 'Ms. Mikami,' got it? Try to remember that."

The night before my first day at the new middle school, Reiko had told me the "North Yomi fundamentals"…

"The First" and "the Second" had been half-joking school superstitions; and "the Third," which said to "obey at all costs whatever the class decides," had been, I realized now, her hinting at a crucial rule that tied into the issue of the "extra person." But at least at that point, the preparation that had had the greatest meaning for me was, of course, "the Fourth."

"You must strictly respect the distinction between public and private life. Try not to call me 'Reiko' at school, even by mistake."

Of course, I'd assented obediently.

My mother, Ritsuko Sakakibara (née Mikami), had died fifteen years ago. Her little sister, eleven years younger than her, was my aunt by blood, Reiko Mikami. The fact that Reiko was a teacher at the school I would be transferring to—plus that she was the assistant head teacher of my class—was, in a certain sense, an extremely reassuring coincidence. However, it would also be a relationship that could easily be a source of stupid misunderstandings and trouble if I wasn't sufficiently careful. I freely accepted that, so…

So I had faithfully respected her instructions, which she had deliberately highlighted to me as "the Fourth of the North Yomi fundamentals." I had called her "Ms. Mikami" at school and "Reiko" at home, treating her as if she were two entirely separate people.

Reiko had done the same. At school, she never called me "Koichi" and never forgot to treat me as "Sakakibara, the transfer student"…So there had been plenty of times when we had both behaved with more reservation to each other than strictly necessary.

Naturally Mr. Kubodera knew the truth from the very beginning, and so did most of the class. That was why, for instance, when discussing the new "tactic" for June and deciding to treat both Mei and me as if we were "not there," Mr. Kubodera had addressed the class with these words:

We must all respect the decision of the class. Even Ms. Mikami, who is in a very difficult position, told us earlier that she would do "whatever possible."

Ms. Mikami's "difficult position." Obviously, that was the position of having to ignore her nephew at school as if he were "not there," even though he shared the same house as her after school.

And a little before that, Yuya Mochizuki had come to our house in Koike and was loitering around outside.

I was just, uh, worried.

My house is near here, in this town, so I thought I might, uh…

Mochizuki had explained himself in that halting, hesitant way when I'd unexpectedly appeared, but I wasn't the object of his worry, even though I'd missed school that day to go to the hospital. I knew for certain that his primary goal had been to check on Ms. Mikami/Reiko, who had been out of school for several days around the same time.

After graduating from an art school in Tokyo, she'd come back home to Yomiyama and gotten a job teaching art at the middle school she'd attended. She dubbed the side house her "office/bedroom" and used it as her studio on the side, focusing intently on the creation of paintings that she called "my real job"…

I had for these last four months—not even—been groping my way toward just the right degree of distance from/involvement with her.

After Yukari Sakuragi's death, Mei had stopped coming to school for several days in a row…And I had wanted to find out how she was doing. Even then, I'd had a simple "means of finding out" by asking Reiko to show me the class list.

Nevertheless, I didn't pull it. I didn't tell her that I wanted a class list for myself and I never attempted to ask her outright about the discomfort I felt at school and all the questions I had…And that, too, was due to my hesitation and nervousness that resulted from struggling to maintain a sense of distance from her, I think.

I'll worry about me, and I can tell you I've got some pretty touchy emotional issues going on.

I knew I'd told Mochizuki something like that, and yet…

"Sakakibara."

Ms. Mikami—Reiko—trapped under the lumber and unable to move, and Mei, lifting the heavy pickax in both hands. For a long moment, standing between the two of them, I could think of nothing to say. I just stood there.

Then Mei spoke to me, her voice forceful.

"Think it over, Sakakibara. Think carefully. Does any other class at our school have an assistant head teacher?"

"Huh? Well…I mean…"

"They don't," Mei declared flatly. "For some reason, no one ever thought about it. We just accepted it. I did the same thing at first. But don't you think that's odd? Third-year Class 3 is the only one in the whole school that has an assistant head teacher."

I couldn't say a word.

"I think Ms. Mikami must have died the year before last, the year she was the head teacher for Class 3. After the second semester started and that boy Sakuma abandoned his role and stopped being 'not there,' and the 'disasters' started. The real reason the art club was on hiatus until this spring has to be because Ms. Mikami was the sponsor for it, and then she died."

Meaning that the reason it had been resumed in April was that Reiko, reawakened as the "extra person," had filled the role of sponsor. That the actual events had been expunged from everybody's memory as well as all the records, which had been corrupted into false memories and records?

I searched intently through the recesses of my own heart.

And yet, however, restoring the memories doctored/corrupted in this "phenomenon" from the inside was probably impossible as long as I was part of this world. That's how it seemed. The only thing possible was to extrapolate from a handful of objective facts I'd managed to collect, to a truth that had to be…

Maybe…this wasn't the first time I'd come to Yomiyama since starting middle school. Hadn't I come here once, one and a half years ago, the autumn of my first year in middle school?

If that had been…a visit to attend the wake and memorial service when Reiko died the autumn before last…

I don't…I don't want to go to any more funerals.

The meaning behind my grandfather's wail thudded home.

Poor, poor Ritsuko. It's so sad, Ritsuko and Reiko both…

His sorrow at outliving his oldest daughter, Ritsuko, fifteen years ago. The sorrow of outliving his second daughter, Reiko, as well two years ago had, in his memories muddled by senility, mingled with the sorrow of fifteen years ago and made him say those things…

In order to relieve the shock and grief and loneliness Reiko's sudden death had brought with it the autumn before last, my grandparents had impulsively purchased a myna bird they discovered in a pet shop. And then they had named the bird after their deceased daughter, shortening the name to "Ray."

Before long, Ray had one human word that she could speak—"Why?"

That could have been a question my heartbroken grandfather or grandmother asked their deceased daughter when they sat in the room by the veranda each day, facing the family altar. Something like "Why? Why did you die, Reiko? Why?" Maybe Ray had learned from that and started to say "Why?" all the time.

Cheer…Cheer up.

That probably came about the same way. Perhaps they had been the words of encouragement my grandmother spoke day after day to my grandfather, who was sunken in continual despair, his heartbreak never lessening. And then Ray had learned it and…

Cheer…Cheer up.

"There were enough desks in the classroom, even though the 'disasters' for this year actually started in April…And this explains why, no?" Mei pointed out, lowering the pickax momentarily to her feet. "They really were one desk short at the start of the semester. But not in the classroom—it was in the teachers' office."

"Yeah…"

"Wh-what are you two saying?"

Just then, I heard Ms. Mikami's—Reiko's—perplexed voice.

"You don't believe that! Koichi, I'm not…"

Propped up on both of her elbows, craning her chin up, Reiko was looking up at me. Her face, black and smudged with ash and mud—that face that held a shadow of my mother in it—was shockingly twisted. Probably from the combination of physical pain and psychological shock.

"Sakakibara," Mei said, once more lifting the pickax in both hands and taking a step closer to me. "Move."

"Misaki…"

I took the full brunt of the iron conviction on her face, then found myself caught and held by the spark in Reiko's confused, terrified eyes as she lay on the ground behind me. And then…

"No," I said, taking the pickax from Mei's hands.

It was medium-sized, its haft sixty or seventy centimeters long, but when I held it, it pulled against my arm. Both ends on the iron "head" were pointed and sharper than I would have thought. With this weight and sharpness, it wouldn't be hard at all to inflict deadly wounds on a person.

"No. You can't do this."

"But Sakakibara…If we don't…"

"I know." I nodded, feeling the full weight of my decision. "I know. I'll do it."

I heard Reiko's terse scream. I slowly turned back around to face her and adjusted my hold on the pickax I'd taken from Mei.

"K-Koichi—Wait, what are you…"

The look on her face screamed No! and she shook her head in small, tight tremors.

"Returning 'the casualty' to Death…"

I was fighting back pain and the wild rush of my heartbeat as I spoke.

"That's the only way to stop the 'disasters' once they've begun. Your old classmate Matsunaga from fifteen years ago told us that."

"What are you talking about? You can't…Stop acting so crazy. Stop this instant!"

"I'm sorry, Reiko."

Planting my feet, I gathered all the strength I had in my body and lifted the pickax over my head. It's the only way. It's the only way. Repeating that to myself over and over.

And then…

Aiming the pickax for the spot on her back where Reiko's heart would be as she lay facedown on the ground, in the instant before I started to swing the pickax down—

Is this right?

Is what I'm doing right?

Is this truly right? We're not wrong about this, are we?

There was only one piece of evidence that said Reiko was this year's "extra person." A judgment made with Mei's special ability—her "doll's eye" that could see the "color of death"—that was all the overt evidence we had. The rest was nothing more than a guess based on a series of circumstantial events. It wasn't as if I had a strong conviction about it and could deny the memories I had of Reiko. And yet…

Is this right?

To believe her and return Reiko to Death?

Is this really right? We're not wrong, are we?

What if Mei had misunderstood everything? What if being able to see the "color of death" was really just something she'd talked herself into believing, nothing more than a delusion?

That would mean I was killing Reiko, by my own hand, even though she wasn't "the casualty." The person on whom I couldn't help overlaying the image of my mother, Ritsuko, whom I knew only from photographs. The person I couldn't help seeking out. The person who held probably one of the most important roles in my life. The person whom I wasn't really "bad at dealing with," but instead had probably loved ever since I was a child.

I mean, in broad strokes, the "reality" here in Yomiyama was that a phenomenon was occurring that doctored/corrupted and modified people's memories and records, those memories growing indistinct and vanishing over time…And it happened all the time. In the middle of all that, was I supposed to uncritically accept something that Mei Misaki alone could see, something she swore was the "truth"? Was it right to do what I was about to do, because she said so?

My doubts, anxiety, and confusion swirled together. I became unable to move, as if literally petrified.

Just then, a monstrous roar came from the main building, where the fire continued to burn. The frame of the building had burned through and the roof had finally collapsed. A huge billow of sparks flew into the air accompanied by a swirl of thick smoke. Some of them even fluttered down around me, where I stood frozen. If the fire went on like this, we would be in danger here, too, at some point.

So…

I couldn't vacillate over this forever.

Is this right?

Is this really right?

Still questioning myself, I turned back to look at Mei.

She hadn't budged in the slightest from the place she'd stood this whole time, and she was looking straight at me. Her right eye, narrowed coolly, and the "doll's eye," the "blue eye, empty to all"—neither of them held the slightest doubt or hesitation. Only…Yes, they were filled only with a terrible sadness.

Her lips moved very slightly.

I couldn't hear what she said, but I could read the words from the movement of her lips. "Trust me," they said.

…I…

I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep breath.

I…

I opened my eyes, then turned back to Reiko. Violently conflicted, whipped by hesitation, fear, and despair, still I saw in her face the shadow of the mother I knew only from photographs. But…

I'm…going to believe Mei.

I'm going to believe her.

Gritting my teeth, I made my decision.

I'll believe Mei.

Maybe I don't mean "I'm going to believe her" as much as "I want to believe her." But that's good enough. I'm okay with that.

Cutting through my indecision, I swung the pickax overhead. Even Reiko's scream of "Stop!" (Reiko…) didn't penetrate my brain (Good-bye…Reiko…).

Filling the movement with all the strength I possessed, I swung the point of the pickax down into her back (Good-bye…Mother…), slicing through the flesh to reach her heart…

As if that single impact had rebounded into my own body, a pain more intense than any I had experienced before cut through my flimsy chest. The image that flashed instantly to mind was the X-ray of my shriveled and distorted lung after the third collapse.

I pulled my hands away from the pickax lodged in Reiko's back and pressed them against my chest, crumpling to the ground where I stood. Panting at the ferocious shortness of breath as my consciousness grew ever fainter, I felt the heat of tears spilling from my eyes in ceaseless streams. Obviously the pain and shortness of breath were not their only cause.

Chapter 20 - Chapter 15 : August II

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