Book Girl and the Famished Spirit Read online

  Could she mean that? When he told me I was Tohko’s author? A ribbon of heat spread over my cheeks, too. But I shut it away inside and hurried after Tohko.

  “About what you said before… I can’t write a love story, okay?”

  “What? You’re so cheap! Oh, I know. I can lend you some good Harlequin romances to study.”

  “That’s okay. The one you loaned me before left quite an impression.”

  “Geez, Konoha. If you don’t understand how girls feel, you’re never going to get chocolate from anyone serious on Valentine’s Day.”

  “I don’t want any. I prefer red bean jelly.”

  “Then you’re never going to get any red bean jelly from anyone serious.”

  “I’d hate to see the girl who gave me homemade red bean jelly for Valentine’s Day.”

  “You’re so selfish, Konoha.”

  We walked down the dark streets, sharing a conversation just like old times. Tohko stopped at the corner.

  “I have to go this way now.”

  “Do you want me to walk with you?”

  “It’s fine. If any perverts show up, I’ll hit ’em with my bag.” She laughed brightly and then broke off. “Oh, Konoha—”

  She grabbed the sleeve of my shirt and cocked her head meekly.

  “Will you go with me tomorrow… to check on Nanase?”

  His earliest memory was of being in a dark, unclean, disreputable place.

  He had never once been to school. He was working in a dank factory where the sun never shined, hugging his empty stomach, when the gentleman, who came from an island nation in the East, took him into his care and brought him back to his mansion.

  His father, or perhaps both his parents, had been Japanese. He was not like the gentleman’s child—his demeanor seemed to despise and doubt everything he encountered, which had appealed to the man’s eccentricity. That was why the gentleman had taken him away.

  This man had a lovely, audacious daughter one year his junior.

  “Daddy, what’s this dirty little boy?”

  The girl had spit the question out suddenly at their first meeting, scrunching up her haughty face and scrutinizing the boy from every angle. Then she laughed like a bright red flower opening. “Oh, is this my present? He seems dirty, but if I look really close, his eyes are a pretty color. So I guess I can keep him.”

  “I decided that you’re going to be my little brother,” she declared brashly despite the fact that she was younger.

  Thereafter, wherever they went, the children were always together.

  Morning, noon, evening, and night, the two spent their time nestled together, their hands clasped, a single being made from two people.

  “Aoi! Aoi! I’m hungry. Make me some pancakes with lots of honey on top.”

  “My hands are tired. Feed me, Aoi.”

  She opened her mouth daintily, and he cut up her pancakes with a silver fork and fed them to her. She beamed back happily.

  “They’re great. You’re amazing, Aoi. I like your food best, better than any of those nice restaurants.”

  Their days continued in this easy way.

  Until the gentleman who was their shelter drew his final breath after a sudden illness…

  After school, Tohko and I went to the hospital where Kotobuki was staying bearing an assortment of jams and a bouquet of flowers tied with a pink ribbon.

  “I’m so sorry, Nanase!”

  Tohko held out the box of jams and bowed her head deeply.

  Beside her, I held out the bouquet and bowed my head just as deeply.

  “I’m very sorry for the amount of trouble my club president has put you through.”

  Kotobuki was sitting up in bed, dressed in light blue pajamas. Her face turned bright red, and she struggled to find something to say.

  “Oh no, I—You don’t have to apologize… I was the one who said I would go with you, and then I was so clumsy and fell off the wall, which got you arrested… I, um, I really am sorry.”

  Kotobuki stretched out both hands to accept the box of jams.

  “Th-thank you.”

  Then her cheeks flushed even darker red, and she looked cautiously at the flowers in my hand. She hugged the box of jams to her chest and stared at the red rosebuds and pink sweet peas and baby’s breath, looking unsure about what to do.

  “Do you not like the flowers?” I asked nervously, glancing up from my bow.

  She pursed her lips and shook her head.

  “I didn’t say that. Thank you. Really. Er, I’m saying that to Tohko. Not you, Inoue,” she emphasized, seizing the bouquet and gently hugging it and the box of jams.

  “Oh, I brought a vase, too. I’ll go get some water for the flowers.”

  Tohko showed her the vase she’d bought at a dollar store on the way, and Kotobuki handed the flowers to her reluctantly.

  “Um… thanks.”

  “Be right back!”

  Tohko left the room, and Kotobuki and I were alone together.

  Kotobuki constantly touched her hair or adjusted the collar of her pajamas, her face sullen.

  “So… you don’t have to share this room with anyone?”

  “Someone got discharged this morning, and the other one is getting a test.”

  “Oh.”

  “Um… Tohko chose those flowers, right?” she asked brusquely, her face still turned away.

  “Huh? Oh. Yeah, she did,” I answered, confused.

  “Hmph… I figured. She has very good taste. Yeah, you never could have picked them out,” she trailed off darkly.

  Was I imagining it? She seemed almost disappointed.

  “Um… I really am sorry you got hurt. And you’re not even going to be able to take the midterms.”

  “The teachers are letting me do makeup tests, so it’s no big deal.”

  “But—”

  “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  “Maybe not, but still—”

  “Why did you come?”

  “… I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have?”

  Color rose high in Kotobuki’s cheeks and she snapped, “That’s not what I… I—I just… If you’d told me you were coming, I would have changed. My pajamas are all wrinkled, and my hair… it’s all frizzy. And I don’t have any makeup on. And I smell sweaty.”

  “It doesn’t bother me.”

  “Well, it bothers me!”

  She spun around to yell at me, and her face instantly turned red and she turned away again.

  “I mean, I don’t really care about you. Don’t get the wrong idea.”

  “O-okay.”

  Kotobuki bit her lip and fell silent again. The room was utterly still.

  The air felt heavy. I wished Tohko would come back soon.

  I didn’t know where to look, so I turned to the window. Kotobuki’s room was on the seventh floor, so I could look down at the people going in and out of the hospital. Leaden clouds covered the sky outside, and it looked ready to rain at any moment.

  Just then, a girl wearing our school’s uniform came out of the building supported by a tall man in a suit.

  Huh? Could that be Amemiya?

  I leaned closer to the window to try and get a better look, but just then Kotobuki murmured in a low voice, “You must think I’m an awful person.”

  “What—?”

  I looked hastily over at Kotobuki and started to deny it. She hung her head, her lips still pulled into a frown; she looked like she was on the verge of tears.

  Oh no! What’s wrong, Kotobuki?!

  I gulped in surprise. Kotobuki crushed the edge of her blanket in her fists and said in a raspy voice, “You… you don’t have to deny it. I know all I ever do is glare at you, and I’m always rude… But—you may not remember it, but I… in middle school, I…”

  Middle school? I thought Kotobuki had gone to a different middle school.

  I had no idea what she was getting at. I just felt even more bewildered.

  “Hey there, Nanase! We’re here to
visit youuu!”

  Girls from our class burst into the room.

  “When we heard you broke something falling down the stairs at a train station, we were so surprised. Huh? Inoue?”

  The girls’ eyes widened.

  “Oh wow! I didn’t think you’d be here!”

  “Seriously, what a shock!”

  “And you know how much Nanase—”

  Hates you, she was probably going to say. The girl next to her had elbowed her, making her break off abruptly.

  Kotobuki’s face was harsh. “Don’t get any weird ideas. Inoue is just Tohko’s bootlicker. He tagged along with her.”

  “Oh, I see. But that’s such a mean thing to say!”

  “Being in the hospital sure didn’t sweeten you up. Poor Inoue.”

  The girls laughed lightheartedly.

  Kotobuki and I both looked away uncomfortably. I wondered what she had been about to tell me.

  “We thought you might be bored, so we brought you tons of stuff.”

  They dumped a pile of manga and mystery novels on the bed.

  In their midst, I spotted a familiar sky blue cover. I felt my heart lurch to a halt.

  Kotobuki’s eyes popped open.

  One of the girls cried cheerfully, “Oh, it’s Miu Inoue! That takes me back. I read this in middle school. It was so amazing.”

  “Me, too! The emotions are so real; I totally identified with it. Maybe because the author was a middle schooler, too. Nanase, you said you never read Miu Inoue, right?”

  Kotobuki fidgeted, as if something was bugging her, and she muttered evasively, “D-did I?”

  A girl named Kimura had brought Miu’s book, and she held it out with a huge grin on her face.

  “Here. You should take this opportunity to read it! I’m positive you’ll love it. The dialogue and narration are both real concise, and they just hit you. You feel great when you finish reading it. Like you just got to experience something really beautiful.”

  “Toootally. I don’t usually read books, but I was completely obsessed with Miu. It’s like a bible for teenagers. The movie was really great, too. The imagery was so romantic and airy, which is the perfect match for the book’s atmosphere. I saw it three times.”

  “I wonder why Miu Inoue never wrote another book. It’s such a waste of her genius.”

  I stared at my shoes and in a trembling voice announced, “She’s not a genius.”

  The words sounded shockingly cold even to me. They were like an icy whip snapping through the amiable atmosphere.

  The girls looked at me in surprise.

  My earlobes and throat burned and my hands trembled, balled into tight fists.

  “What’s so interesting about that book? The writing is bad, the composition is sloppy—it’s like being forced to read a middle schooler’s shallow poetry. It’s laughable. Don’t you think everyone just made a big deal out of it because a fourteen-year-old girl won the award? She might as well have been a panda or a seal. I hate Miu Inoue.”

  The force of my words came back tenfold, digging into my own heart.

  Everything in that book was a total lie.

  A boundless, gossamer world couldn’t really exist. The idea that dreams could come true was nothing but the irresponsible nonsense of an immature child who had never experienced true pain.

  The world was smaller than that, more oppressive, darker.

  And people’s hearts weren’t as pure and honest as a sunny sky, either. The deeper you ventured, the murkier things became, the more sourly they smelled, until it made you nauseous.

  All of it—all of it—was a trick. The story that Miu had written and Miu herself.

  The hospital room was gripped by silence, everyone’s faces frozen in surprise. Kotobuki’s lips moved wordlessly like a fish’s.

  I had to recover somehow, but my jaw was locked with tension and my throat was trembling; I tried hard, but I couldn’t smile. My ears burned and my breathing was labored. I started to leave the room, but Tohko was standing in the doorway, holding the vase full of flowers.

  Had she heard that ugly outburst? She was looking at me with concern and sadness.

  Before Tohko could say anything to me, I pushed my voice out of my burning throat desperately.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

  Then, trying to avoid Tohko’s eyes, I passed her and moved quickly to the hospital lobby.

  What a failure!

  Regret assaulted me; my entire body was shaking and my ears roared.

  Failure! Failure!

  They had believed that I was totally harmless and that they could say anything and I would just smile vacantly.

  That I was a genial guy who would never raise his voice or pick a fight like I had just done.

  The walls that I had so fervently built up had fallen all too easily because of one book.

  I didn’t know where I was running anymore. My only thought, whipping frantically through my heart, was to escape back to my room as soon as I could, to shut the door, and pretend that none of this had happened.

  When I reached my house, I crawled into bed without getting undressed and pulled the blanket over my head.

  I was tired of this. Was I going to have to run like a criminal every time I saw or heard Miu’s name? Would I have to keep regretting what I’d done?

  Why did everything keep happening to me?! I never wanted a prize! I never wanted to become an author!

  I only wanted Miu to be beside me, smiling—even if it was a false paradise, even if it was a papier-mâché of lies, I never noticed. I had been happy and had loved that papier-mâché world.

  But Miu had glared at me, her eyes full of hatred; she had laughed that I wouldn’t understand, and she had fallen away from me.

  Why had I eaten the fruit from the tree of knowledge?

  Why couldn’t I have stayed a foolish, happy child, ignorant of all this?

  Kayano had said that to get back something you had lost, you had only to reverse time. I’d told her it was impossible.

  But really? Was it truly impossible? Why couldn’t time be reversed?

  If God wouldn’t grant me that, then I’d ask the devil!

  I would give him my soul—anything—if only he would send me back.

  Then I would tear apart that novel encrusted with lies and throw it into the trash. I would never write a novel, ever…

  I’d wished for it two years ago, and I wished for it again now until I choked, tearing at my sheets, pressing my face into my pillow, and grinding my teeth against the pain. It felt like my body was being carved up by burning knives—just as it had then—but I was forced to bear it.

  My mother came to tell me dinner was ready, but I told her I didn’t want to eat. I didn’t pull the blanket off my head. I told her I didn’t feel good and that I wanted to sleep.

  Then I fell asleep, sinking into the murk.

  The next morning, when hunger and fatigue caused me to stagger downstairs to the living room, my mother told me Tohko had called.

  “How do you feel? Do you want to take off school today?”

  “I’ll go. We still have midterms.”

  “All right, but don’t overdo it.”

  My mother’s face betrayed her concern for me, and it clutched at my heart. I was ashamed to look her in the face.

  All I did was make my family worry. And now I was doing it to Tohko, too…

  The table had been set with white rice and miso soup and the leftover veggie burger and tomato-and-asparagus salad from the night before. I ate in silence and then went to school.

  When I entered the classroom, the girls who had come to visit Kotobuki saw me and their faces stiffened awkwardly.

  I steeled myself, got my breathing under control, and smiled pleasantly.

  “Morning,” I tried, embarrassed. “I’m… sorry about yesterday. I was angry… about something else, and I just went off.”

  That made their faces soften with relief, and they answered brightly.

&
nbsp; “You’re not the kind of person who blows up like that. You scared us!”

  “Yeah! But Nanase told us she said some kind of mean stuff to you before we came. She said it upset you, and that’s why you left.”

  “… She said that?”

  I was confused.

  “Yeah. She seemed really depressed. I think she feels bad about it. She says awful things, but she’s not a bad person. Maybe she’s just stressed out because she got stuck in the hospital out of nowhere. Try to forgive her.”

  Kotobuki had covered for me? Why?

  Thinking back over all of Kotobuki’s past behavior, I couldn’t begin to guess why she would help me out to the point of making herself the bad guy. Shaken, I sat down at my desk, but then Akutagawa leaned over and murmured, “Your friend is here.”

  Tohko was hiding behind the door at the back, peeking covertly into the room.

  When I stood up and headed to the hallway, she jerked back and flattened herself hastily against the wall. Her long, thin braids swung out from the wall like cats’ tails.

  I stood in front of her nervously.

  “My mom said you called me. Thanks. I’m sorry I left you there yesterday.”

  Tohko looked at me in concern.

  “It’s no problem. I’m sorry I forced you to come during exams. I’m glad you came to school today.”

  It looked like she still had something on her mind, and she slumped against the wall. I could see now that her eyes were red and bloodshot.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Her mumbled reply was crestfallen. “… Ryuto didn’t come home the day before yesterday. If it were only one day, maybe, okay—but this is the first time that we haven’t heard anything from him for two days. And yesterday a DVD he’d been waiting for came. You’ve been hanging out with Ryuto a lot lately, right? Did he say anything to you?”

  The day before yesterday—that was the day Ryuto and I had gone to visit Amemiya at her house.

  And Ryuto hadn’t come home? Could it be—?

  Just then, the bell rang.

  “I’m sorry. Can you come back after the exam is over?”

  During the first period break, I met Tohko on the landing of a deserted staircase and told her everything that had happened. I told her that Ryuto was going out with Amemiya, that the two of us had been investigating her, and that two days ago we’d gone to her house to see how she was doing.