Let me give a rundown on the facts that came to light in the following days.
Before dawn on August 9, 1998, the efforts of the firefighters who rushed to the scene were for naught, and the Sakitani Memorial Hall was almost entirely destroyed. They found a total of six bodies at the scene.
The confirmed identities and locations are as follows:
- Kensaku Numata … Caretaker. Interior (kitchen).
- Manabu Maejima … Student. Front yard.
- Izumi Akazawa … Student. Front yard.
- Shigeki Yonemura … Student. Front yard.
- Takako Sugiura … Student. Interior, east. High probability she was in room 212 (shared with Akazawa).
- Junta Nakao … Student. Interior, east. Possibly in second-floor hallway.
The results of the coroner's inquest and court-ordered autopsies revealed that not a single one of them had died as a result of the fire.
The caretaker Mr. Numata had been stabbed in the neck by a large number of metal cooking skewers, which had been the cause of his death, and thereafter had been burned in the fire. Of the other five, who were all students, four of them—Maejima, Yonemura, Sugiura, and Nakao—had died from blood loss due to being stabbed and cut in multiple locations by a sharp blade. Akazawa appeared to have died due to snapping her spine in her fall from the second-floor balcony.
With the various circumstances and witness testimony, the fact that Mieko, the wife of Kensaku Numata, who had shared the role of managing the Sakitani Memorial Hall, had brought about the deaths of these six people was found to be conclusive. It was thought that Mieko had also tossed kerosene around the kitchen to set the fire after murdering Mr. Numata. Mr. Chibiki had restrained her, but, before being surrendered to the police, she had died. She had bitten through her tongue in an effort to commit suicide, and had apparently succeeded.
Why had Mieko Numata perpetrated such a string of crimes that night? Regardless of whether she possessed an exceptionally aberrant psychology, the root cause was still unclear.
* * *
Wakui, who'd suffered an asthma attack during dinner on August 8, emerged unscathed due to treatment received at the hospital to which Mr. Chibiki had delivered him. As to why he should have neglected to check how much medicine was in his inhaler, he supposedly admitted that it perplexed him, too.
Kazami, who had met with such unexpected misery due to an outrageous misunderstanding by his childhood friend, had suffered no substantial injury beyond a sprained ankle. Even after testing, no abnormalities were found in his head, which had suffered a not-insignificant loss of blood from the impact of his fall, and he came through without major incident. I haven't heard yet how he and Teshigawara talked things over after that. But, well—given their personalities, I don't think it turned into any major conflict.
* * *
The cause of the intense pain that I, Koichi Sakakibara, experienced was, as suspected, due to a spontaneous pneumothorax in my left lung, which then went on to suffer a collapse somewhat more severe than my previous two experiences. I didn't entirely lose consciousness at the scene, but the pain and shortness of breath that I continued to feel until I was treated at the hospital were not minor…So, to be honest, I have little memory of the events around that time, such as what happened after my lung collapsed or how I was rescued.
In any case…
By the time my symptoms eased to a certain degree and I had calmed enough to be able to think things over, I was in a room in the same ward of that old, familiar municipal hospital in Yumigaoka where I had received treatment only a few months earlier.
My grandmother had come running to my side, and after talks with the head physician, the suggestion was made that I consider simply having surgery at this point. The overall determination was that surgery would be a better option in order to prevent any further recurrences. And so my father in India, ignorant of all that had occurred, was speedily contacted and his permission obtained, and two days later I underwent the surgery.
Unlike before, the trend was now toward thoracoscopic surgery for this sort of lung surgery. They would make a few incisions in my body about one centimeter in length, then insert an endoscope and other instruments through these to complete the necessary procedures from outside my body. The burden on the patient from this method was far smaller than that from open-chest surgery, and the postoperative recovery was faster as well.
The result was a successful surgery with no complications. My recovery was also a quick one, and I was informed that the prognosis was that I could be discharged after only one more week.
* * *
Mei came with Mochizuki to visit me only three days before my release, on August 15th. I'm sure they weren't aware of it, but it was the day when, many years ago, our country had seen the end of a war.
"…Even so."
Mochizuki was the one who'd spoken.
"I wonder what made Mrs. Numata do such crazy stuff all of a sudden. She didn't look like she was about to do anything like that at dinner."
And so the events of that night had spontaneously become the focus of the conversation. As soon as he'd learned about the fire that night, Mochizuki had escaped out the emergency exit on the western wing of the building. He had then fled to the area near the gate, apparently just missing me as I was heading for Mei's location.
"There's no way to know, since she died. That's what the police said."
The day before yesterday, I'd received a visit from Detective Oba of the Yomiyama Police Department. That was also when I'd learned the details of the incident.
"I heard she bit her tongue off," Mochizuki said, his eyebrows knitting in disgust. "That's a pretty tough way to kill yourself."
"Sometimes people bite their tongues off, and the piece gets stuck in their windpipe, so they suffocate. That's probably what happened to Mrs. Numata."
"Hm-m-m."
"So we wound up with seven 'deaths for August.'"
I heard Mei's blank statement and cocked my head. "Seven? Are you counting the Numatas?"
"Mr. Chibiki looked into it more, and he found out the Numatas were Takabayashi's grandparents. On his mom's side."
"What? You mean…"
Ikuo Takabayashi, who had died of a heart attack in June.
"Since they were his grandparents, that means they were blood relatives within two degrees. So they were actually linked to the class and in range. Incidentally, the Numatas became the caretakers there around ten years ago. So someone else was working there for the trip fifteen years ago."
Feeling thoroughly defeated for some reason, I sighed. I gently rubbed my ribs through my pajamas, where the incision from the surgery still was.
"Of course, that's all purely a coincidence," Mei said, sighing as I had done. "It would be wrong to think any kind of unseen will had intervened there."
"Did Mr. Chibiki say that?"
"He probably would, huh?"
"…Even so," Mochizuki said again. "I sure am glad you're getting better, Sakakibara. When I heard you were having surgery, I was really worried about you."
"The surgery was really simple," I replied with as blasé an expression as I could muster, but I could see the tears pooling in Mochizuki's eyes.
"But come on, considering the 'disasters' for this year, you could imagine the surgery being botched or all kinds of terrible things."
"You've got a soft heart, boy. But it's fine. The 'disasters' are over."
"They are?"
Mochizuki looked from my face to Mei's, suspicion plain on his own.
"Misaki says that, too…But still."
"I think the 'extra person' must have died in the fire that night."
"Misaki said that, too. I wonder if it's true."
Mochizuki blinked his watering eyes and folded his arms over his chest, frowning.
"It was one of the five students who died that night? But no, because according to what Matsunaga said on that tape, once the 'extra person' dies, they instantly cease to exist. Hm-m-m…"
"It means that the 'extra person' existed until that night, but we can't remember who it was anymore," I told him, struggling to keep the morose feelings at bay. Then I changed my tone slightly and asked him, "How many people went on that trip?"
"Um…Fourteen people. Fifteen, if you include Mr. Chibiki."
"There must have been sixteen people originally. It's just that no one remembers that anymore."
No one…No one except Mei and me, who had been so deeply involved in her "death."
Not Mochizuki, not Teshigawara, not Mr. Chibiki…No one remembered her anymore. No one remembered that an art teacher named Reiko Mikami had existed since April, the assistant head teacher of third-year Class 3. Or that she had become the "substitute head teacher" after Mr. Kubodera's death, had half-remembered her own experience fifteen years ago and planned the camping trip—which must have seemed to her like a desperate measure to take—and had been there that night as the chaperone.
It was on a phone call with Mei that I learned that. The day before my surgery, with some effort I escaped my hospital room and called her house on the ward's green phone. I had my cell phone with me in my room, but it was out of battery and I couldn't use it anymore.
"Nobody remembers Ms. Mikami," she had told me without even asking how I was doing, coming onto the phone after Kirika had handed it to her, as usual. "They keep saying she died two years ago in the fall."
"Two years ago…"
"Yeah. That kid Sakuma abandoned his role of being 'not there' right after summer break, and as soon as October started, one of the students died…followed by Ms. Mikami. They said she drowned in Yomiyama River. You still don't remember?"
"She drowned…?"
"There was a lot of rain at the end of October, and the river was swollen. The next day, they found her body downstream. They don't know if she jumped or got swept away by accident…"
I couldn't speak.
"I can't remember yet, either, but that's what really happened. Someone linked to the class who died in the 'disasters' two years ago. So it was actually eight people, not seven. And everyone's memories went back to normal. Lots of records and data did, too. Probably all of it. I looked at the class list, and the part where it said 'Assistant Head Teacher: Reiko Mikami' is gone, too."
"So then she really was…"
That would be the best proof that Reiko had been the "extra person."
"People are saying that after Mr. Kubodera died, Mr. Chibiki filled in as the substitute head teacher. It was an exception, and he was still serving as the librarian of the secondary library. They also say that Mr. Chibiki was the one who planned and led the trip…Just him."
"What about the art club?"
The thought occurred to me suddenly, so I asked.
"I wonder what's going on with the art club now, after it got revived in April."
"It's true that after Ms. Mikami died, the teacher who was supervising it with her transferred the next year. The new art teacher who came in said they didn't want to run the art club, so it went on hiatus. But now they're saying that teacher agreed to do it this spring."
"Oh."
I had guessed a lot of things about Reiko's existence from talking with my grandmother when she came running to the hospital. She never questioned the safety of her daughter, who had participated in the trip as its chaperone, and had only dabbed at her eyes and said, "Oh, if only Reiko were alive right now."
She even told me, "You know how she was. She thought of you as her own child, Koichi.
"She would say that if Yosuke had been a cruel father to you, she would have taken you in and raised you. Even though she only saw you every once in a while when you were small."
I wondered what it was like now inside the side house Reiko had used as her office/bedroom.
For at least the brief window of four months, she had continued her life in this town, in that house, as a "casualty made flesh." Some trace of it must have…But no, even that would have disappeared. Or taken on some other identity with some other meaning.
"Obon is almost over, but when you get out of the hospital, would you like to visit Reiko's grave?"
When she said that, it was all I could do not to turn my face away from my grandmother's well-intentioned gaze.
"I know it would make her happy if you came with me."
…
…
…
I thought it would be all right if I talked to Mochizuki and Teshigawara, and even to Mr. Chibiki, about what had really happened. Although I got the feeling that, aside from Mr. Chibiki, no matter how much I explained it to them, it wouldn't feel real to them and they'd just be confused.
* * *
I don't know if Mochizuki was trying to be considerate, but eventually he went home, leaving Mei with me. As he was departing, he murmured, "Oh, right," and pulled something out of his bag.
"I meant to give this to you. I'll make a copy for you, too, Misaki."
What Mochizuki then handed me was the "commemorative photo" we'd taken in front of the gate when we'd arrived at the Sakitani Memorial Hall the evening of August 8.
"So, Misaki—how long did you know?"
I waited until Mochizuki left before I asked Mei the question that I'd been wanting to ask the whole time I'd been hospitalized.
"That Ms. Mikami…Reiko was the 'extra person'? When did you…?"
"When was it?" Mei put a hand to her forehead in a deliberate gesture. "…I forget."
"Why didn't you tell me?" I piled on another question, my face earnest.
"I thought it wouldn't help anything even if I did tell you. Until I heard what was on that tape. Plus…" Shifting the hand on her forehead to the eye patch over her left eye, Mei continued, "I just couldn't tell you. How could I have? Ms. Mikami looked so much like your mother, who was already gone. When I saw the yearbook and when you showed me all those pictures at your house…I thought, They're exactly alike. She was important to you, right? Ms. Mikami—Reiko."
"Yeah…But…"
"But what?…You found that tape and I found out that there was still a way to stop the 'disasters,' so…that's why."
That's why…Yes, she had truly wrestled with it.
If we returned "the casualty" to Death, the "disasters" would stop. Who was that "extra person"? She could already see who it was. So then what should she do? What did she need to do?
In order to solidify her own resolve, she'd wanted to hear what was on Katsumi Matsunaga's tape for herself and confirm what he'd said. And before she did that, she'd looked at the group photo of third-year Class 3 from twenty-six years ago with her own eyes and confirmed that Misaki Yomiyama had the "color of death" in that picture. This was how she had worked through things on her own and made the decision alone, and tried to put an end to everything by herself…
"Before, when I called you from the hospital," I said, changing the subject slightly, "I tried calling your cell phone first, but I couldn't get through."
"Yeah. After the trip, I threw it into the river."
Mei said it so casually.
"I told Kirika…told my mom that I lost it in the fire."
"Why did you do that?"
"Because although I do think it's convenient, it's still an awful machine. There's no reason people need to be that connected to each other all the time."
Smiling faintly as she answered, Mei Misaki fit exactly the impression I'd formed of her that day at the end of April when I'd first run into her by the elevators in the inpatient ward.
"Still, she'll probably force me to get a new one soon."
"When she does, can I call you sometimes?"
"Only if it's sometimes," Mei replied, smiling faintly again.
Want to go visit some art museums in Tokyo together one of these days? I tried to say the words, but I swallowed them again.
One of these days…How far in the future would that be from this moment? I no longer felt a vague apprehension about that, like I had before.
One of these days…I knew I would see Mei someday. That's what I thought. Even after I left this town the following spring, I knew it. Even if we didn't make a promise right then and there. Even if the connection I felt right then got broken somehow. One of these days, I knew we would meet again.
* * *
After that, we looked together at the photos Mochizuki had given me.
There were two of them. The first was the one Mochizuki had taken. The other was the one Teshigawara had taken. In the bottom right corner of the shot were numbers, showing the date the pictures were taken.
In both, there were five people in the picture.
The gatepost of the Sakitani Memorial Hall was in the center, and one photo showed, in order from right to left, me, Mei, Kazami, Teshigawara, and Ms. Mikami—Reiko. The other one showed Mochizuki in place of Teshigawara and, per Teshigawara's instructions, he was right up against his "beloved Ms. Mikami"…
"Reiko shows up."
Still staring at the photos, I said it aloud to confirm the fact with Mei.
"I guess Mochizuki couldn't see her."
She nodded. "Yeah."
"Any color?" I asked. "How does Reiko look?"
In response, Mei removed the eye patch from her left eye and took another look at the photo. Then, quietly, she answered, "It's the 'color of death.'"
"…Oh."
I slid out of bed and got to my feet to open the window of my room a little. Outside it was bright and sunny, but for some reason the breeze that blew in felt surprisingly chilly.
"I wonder if we're going to start forgetting soon, too," I said, turning to look at Mei. "Of course we'll forget what happened that night on the trip. But we'll start to forget everything else that involves Reiko Mikami that happened between April and that night, too. Like Mochizuki and the rest of them."
…Even the fact that I had, with my own hands, returned her to Death.
"And even if we do like Matsunaga did fifteen years ago and leave behind a recording of the facts we remember or write them down somewhere, the most important parts will probably disappear, like they did on that tape."
"Maybe, yeah."
Returning her eye patch to its place, Mei gave a small, mute nod. Then she asked me a question.
"Do you want to remember it that badly? You never want to forget?"
"…I don't know."
Forgetting would be better. I felt that way, too. Even now, a pain, distinct from the issues with my lung, lingered deep in my chest. If it meant that pain would disappear completely…Maybe. But still…
I turned slowly back to the window. I still had the two photos in my hands. Dropping my gaze to the photos just once…I went into a reverie.
I didn't know if it would happen in a few days, a few months, or even after a few years. But if all the information about the "extra person" from this year disappeared from my memories someday…
That day…
What would I see in the blank spot that would arise in these photos? What would I feel about it?
Another breeze blew in through the window, ruffling my hair. It really was unexpectedly chilly.
The final gust of the midsummer breeze. With that phrase flowing through my mind, the summer when I was fifteen was coming to an end.
The End