Book Girl and the Scribe Who Faced God, Part 2 Page 6

  “I truly suffered… I burned your letters in order to do something. Before I did it, I read them all over again, one by one…”

  Their feelings gradually drifted apart and the diary grew thick with words of suffering.

  He suffered when he was with her, but he couldn’t leave her; he was in love—as I turned the pages, my throat tightened and grew hot at the suffocating conflict.

  Maybe if Gide had been able to love Madeleine physically, too, their relationship might have become something different.

  Maybe Gide would have been able to build a peaceful, serene household with Madeleine, without having affairs or so often vacating the house to travel.

  Following Madeleine’s death, Gide’s psyche deteriorated rapidly.

  “After her passing, I am only playing at being alive.”

  It had been Madeleine after all who’d been the wellspring of creativity for Gide, and she’d had a special role that was etched into his soul.

  I was sucked in by their mad, eerie love to the point it made my skin thrum. And as it was happening, Kanako and Fumiharu came to mind. Kanako who’d said that their relationship was a “chaste union.”

  Maybe Kanako and Fumiharu had been deeply linked by some other element than physical desire between a man and a woman, the way Gide and Madeleine had been.

  And maybe Fumiharu’s wife, Yui, had suspected…

  The image of Madeleine burning the letters overlaid itself on Yui.

  How had Yui felt as she waited for Fumiharu, who was so often out of the house for his work as an editor?

  I had sunk so deeply into thoughts so bleak it felt wrong to touch them any further that I hadn’t noticed that Kotobuki was there.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, Inoue… Inoue?”

  “Er, oh! You’re closing already?”

  I quickly shut the book and stood up. I returned it to the shelf, hiding the title and author’s name.

  “Let’s head out then.”

  Her white scarf wrapped around her, Kotobuki had been looking at me with concern, but she nodded okay and took my hand.

  We walked down the dim streets hand in hand.

  Talking about maybe going somewhere since tomorrow was Saturday.

  “There’s a movie I want to see.”

  “Which one?”

  “Well… don’t laugh.”

  Kotobuki’s cheeks flushed red, and then in a quiet voice, she told me the title of a romantic movie starring a female pop star.

  “That’s cool. Let’s do that.”

  “R-really? If you don’t want to, I can go see it with Mori and them. It’s fine.”

  “You want to see it, though, right?”

  “Y-yeah.”

  “Then I want to see it, too.”

  Kotobuki’s face bloomed into an excited smile. The ends of her white scarf swayed.

  “Thanks, Inoue.”

  “You should come to my house afterward.”

  “Wha—?”

  Kotobuki’s eyes widened, and embarrassed, I explained. “I promised I would introduce you to my parents for real. As my girlfriend.”

  “Uh… I, uh…”

  “Do you have other plans?”

  Kotobuki shook her head pertly.

  “No. Oh, but…”

  Her face clouded slightly.

  “If we’re seeing the movie first, I guess I can’t bring any lemon meringue pie…”

  I laughed.

  “You could do that next time. Or you could bake it in our kitchen if you wanted.”

  “Oh… I wouldn’t feel right doing that yet.”

  She fluttered her free hand in nervous dismissal. Then she tightened the hand that held mine.

  “N-next time… okay?”

  “Can’t wait.”

  I looked her in the eyes when I said it, and she lowered them with a shy, excited expression.

  “I’ll make some cookies instead. Something not too sweet. Right now I’m thinking salt cookies, maybe…”

  As soon as she said it, she looked surprised and choked off the rest.

  When I saw that, I realized what Kotobuki must have associated the salt cookies with.

  The sharply sweet taste of the cream puffs reawoke on my tongue.

  “Uh, I-I could also do cocoa flavored or ones with black tea leaves in them, or—”

  Kotobuki was speaking quickly, desperately.

  I pretended not to notice and murmured, “That sounds good.”

  I was sure we were both thinking of the same person right then.

  I felt as if my emotions would overflow when I saw the white scarf around Kotobuki’s throat. When I averted my gaze, something was fluttering in the spot where my eyes landed.

  Something thinner and wispier than the scarf… A white ribbon tangled around the branch of a tree that jutted out over the wall of someone’s home. It looked like the ribbon from a school uniform, and my eyes widened.

  “… Inoue, what’s wrong?”

  “There’s a ribbon up there.”

  “What? No. That’s a strip of plastic.”

  “… So it is.”

  Why had I thought it was a ribbon?

  “Speaking of which, did you know that if you tie a ribbon to a tree at school, your wish will come true?”

  My heart skipped a beat at Kotobuki’s question.

  A scene rose in my mind’s eye.

  A bright, sunny sky after a spring shower.

  A tall tree thick with green leaves.

  Tohko desperately scrambling up it.

  They said that if you tied a ribbon to a tree at school without anyone seeing you, your wish would come true.

  It was a trick with absolutely no scientific basis that girls seemed to love.

  Tohko must have been giving it a shot herself. She’d untied the turquoise ribbon on her chest, and just at the point that she was tying it around a branch, her hand slipped and she almost tumbled out of the tree. I’d rushed over to her, and the ribbon that had slipped from her hand fluttered down right in front of me.

  Tohko had turned bright red at having her underclassman witness her in such a pathetic state.

  “Ack! Why are you here?!”

  “I came to school early because I’ve got hall monitor duty. What were you doing?”

  “What?! Uh… a baby bird fell out of its nest, so I was putting it back!”

  Making up excuses, she climbed down, tears in her eyes as she told me, “Don’t look up my skirt.”

  “If someone sees you, it doesn’t work. That’s a lot harder than it sounds.”

  “Oh… yeah, it is.”

  “Have you ever tied up a ribbon, Inoue?”

  “Wha—? No, uh, I don’t really…”

  “R-right. Magic tricks are so childish, right?” Kotobuki said, flustered.

  My heart was racing almost painfully. Melancholy and guilt that seemed to stab at my heart spread out from within my body.

  When she saw my face stiffening, her expression grew fragile. I saw it happening and squeezed Kotobuki’s hand tightly again and smiled.

  “What time should we see the movie? Earlier is better probably.”

  “Y-yeah.”

  Strength came into Kotobuki’s fingertips, too. She squeezed my hand firmly, as if injecting it with her determination to never let go. But instead it seemed to reveal her uneasy state of mind.

  The wind grew a little cooler. Her white scarf fluttered.

  As each of us pretended not to notice the other’s anxiety, we went on talking in cheerful voices.

  I walked Kotobuki home; promised, “I’ll call you later,” with a smile; and then left.

  I had reached my limit. The instant I was alone, the darkness enveloping my body increased its hold. I could no longer ignore the heartbreak that constricted my chest.

  I hadn’t seen Tohko for several days now.

  I hadn’t heard her voice, either.

  I was trying to forget about her, but I couldn’t. She was always present deep in
side my heart, and she reappeared on me like this at the slightest provocation.

  My throat grew hot and my chest hurt, as if it were about to rip apart.

  I’d managed to put the memory of Miu, whom I’d loved so much, behind me.

  At some point I would be okay.

  A time would come when I could forget about Tohko.

  A time when her image would be hazy even if I played it over, like an old and broken videotape—a time when I would be able to accept that fact with only a tiny bit of sadness—I knew that day would come.

  All I needed to do was wait for the time to pass.

  Forgetting the pain and sadness: that was the most effective way. There wasn’t anything I could do but that…

  The wind grew even stronger. The ends of my hair hit my cheeks.

  I bit down on my lip and bowed my head, then followed the dark road feeling gloomy.

  On Saturday morning, the sky was a little cloudy.

  I checked the chance of rain on the Internet, then put a collapsible umbrella in my bag and got myself ready.

  I’d told my mom the night before that Kotobuki was coming over after the movie.

  “We’re going to eat lunch here. Would you mind making it for us? That and dessert. Something a girl would like this time.”

  “Kotobuki is the girl who went home so early last time, isn’t she? You know, your mother has been giving this a lot of thought, and I have to ask: Are you, Kotobuki, and Ryuto in a love triangle? I was so sure you and Amano…”

  My mom came out with something Mori might have said. I flatly denied it.

  “No, we are not. Ryuto has his own girlfriends, and Tohko… is just my club president. I’ll reintroduce Kotobuki the right way tomorrow. Get Dad to be here, too.”

  My mom wore a complicated expression.

  At noon my mom asked me if a paella and strawberry Bavarian cream would be all right.

  “Yeah, thanks. I think she’ll like that,” I answered, then left the house early.

  The wind pricked at my skin. It was already March, but apparently spring was still a little ways off.

  The news even said that the cherry blossoms would be early this year.

  As I walked, I opened my cell phone and sent Kotobuki a text.

  Morning. I just left.

  That was when my phone rang with an incoming call.

  I jumped at the solemn, oppressive tune that reminded me of a Mass and my heart shrank in on itself.

  I looked at the name displayed on the screen, and a chill went through my spine.

  Ryuto!

  Why was he calling now? I hadn’t heard a word from him ever since he’d gotten so stinking drunk and weepy at my house.

  A chill crawled up from my feet. Was he planning to do something again?

  “Hello?”

  When I answered clumsily, I heard sniffling.

  “Konoha, you gotta help me.”

  “What’s going on, Ryuto?”

  My pulse quickened at his peculiar manner. It sounded like he was crying.

  “Tohko’s—”

  “What about Tohko?!”

  “You gotta help. I can’t do it. You gotta come here right away. If you don’t, Tohko’s gonna disappear! It’s gotta be you. I mean, you’re Tohko’s—I’m beggin’ ya. You gotta help Tohko.”

  The call ended there.

  What had happened to Tohko?!

  Blood rushed up to my head, and the skin prickled all over my body.

  Calm down; this could be another of Ryuto’s traps. The same thing had happened before. He lied and told me that Tohko had been poisoned and made me go see her.

  But his tone was more desperate than last time, and his repeated begging, “Please, please,” had been in a voice wet with tears.

  Besides, even that other time, Tohko might not have been poisoned, but she’d had a terrible fever, which had left her bedridden. If I hadn’t gone, she might have suffered all alone in her frigid house.

  Bitter saliva built up inside my mouth.

  I was so conflicted over whether I should go to Tohko or whether I should continue on my way to the place I was meeting Kotobuki that my vision blurred.

  If this was a trap set by Ryuto, Kotobuki might be in danger.

  I recalled what he’d done in the basement storage room, and my brain flared with rage. I wasn’t going to let him act like that ever again with Kotobuki. I wouldn’t let him lay a finger on her. I’d decided to protect her.

  But if Ryuto was truly looking for my help—if something had happened to Tohko—

  I broke out in a sweat as a variety of scenarios tumbled through my mind.

  With trembling fingers, I called Kotobuki’s cell phone.

  A message played saying it was unable to connect, maybe because she’d left her house, too. What should I do?! It would have been perfect if I could have torn myself in two and gone two different places. But that wasn’t possible.

  My vision blurred even further, and my head felt like it was going to split open.

  What should I do? What should I—

  In a daze, with a sheet of sweat on my fingers, I dialed Akutagawa’s number.

  “What’s wrong, Inoue?”

  The instant I heard his honest voice, the blockades on my strained emotions shattered.

  “I have a favor to ask, Akutagawa! I can’t make it to the place I’m supposed to meet Kotobuki anymore. Could you go for me?”

  I explained the situation quickly, my throat aching as if I was being strangled, unable to breathe, and my chest threatening to rip apart.

  My feet were already carrying me to Tohko. That fact became a wave of pitch-black despair and crashed over me.

  I’d sworn that I would protect Kotobuki. And yet, in my ears a voice accused that when the time came, I’d chosen Tohko again. Each time I took another step forward, it was as if I were being struck by biting whips.

  No! It wasn’t true! I hadn’t chosen Tohko!

  But when I thought that I might never be able to see Tohko again, my body felt like it might tear itself to pieces. I couldn’t bear it.

  If Tohko really were to disappear—!

  If she stopped existing in this world—!

  No matter how I argued that there was no chance of something like that happening, I couldn’t keep myself from going to her.

  Because deep in my heart, I’d been thinking about Tohko this whole entire time. Because I missed her more than anything.

  I couldn’t stop my heart from going to her. The happy hours I’d spent with Kotobuki, the warm, ticklish conversations and smiles, the sensation of our hands intertwined had blown away in an instant!

  My head filled with Tohko to the point of despair.

  The way Gide had returned to Madeleine, no matter how many lovers he had—the way Madeleine had been the only person with whom he could share his honest feelings, no matter how far apart they were—

  I, too, understood then that wherever I was, whoever I loved, whoever I belonged to, if anything happened to Tohko, I wouldn’t be able to help but throw it all away and run to her.

  In the midst of an extremity that would not allow retreat, Ryuto always prodded at me with merciless force—with merciless cruelty. Made me realize.

  What Tohko’s life was like!

  That I would never be able to forget!

  I didn’t know if Ryuto had deliberately created this situation and forced me to choose. But if so, then you win!

  The Sakurai home, which I was visiting for the third time, was wrapped in the brooding air of winter.

  Even though I rang the bell repeatedly as white breath spilled from my mouth, there was no answer. And there was no sign that anyone was home. The blinds and curtains I could see from outside were all pulled shut.

  Like the last time I’d come, the front door wasn’t locked. I pulled it open without even announcing myself and called out, “Tohko!”

  “Tohko! Tohko!”

  I yelled until my throat was raw, but the book
girl with her braids never appeared. And I never heard her bounding voice. The interior of the old house was eerily silent.

  I yanked my shoes off and headed straight to Tohko’s room. As soon as I slid her door open, my eyes landed on the scattered shreds of a uniform.

  The heart-stopping shock sent my mind momentarily blank.

  A carpet was laid in the center of the woven mat floor and scattered on top of it like torn-up paper were the sleeves, the collar, the skirt of a school uniform. Even the turquoise ribbon that fluttered against Tohko’s chest had been torn in two and thrown aside. Beside it, much like a bouquet set beside a grave, was a basket holding a huge number of Casablanca lilies.

  My chest tightened and I grew dizzy, and in the moment when I stumbled, I reached a hand out. It struck a bookshelf, scattering the books on the middle shelf across the woven mat floor.

  The books collided with one another, striking my ears with a sharp sound.

  A makeup box covered with pale violet rice paper tumbled from the shelf along with them. The lid came off and a huge number of letters spilled out. The pastel tones of the envelopes—rosy pink and sky blue and others—spread out in a fan at my feet.

  I crouched down hurriedly and gathered them up with shaking hands and saw that every one of the envelopes was still sealed. On the front was an address and the name “Kanako Sakurai” and the return address was “Yui Amano.”

  Letters that Yui had sent to Kanako? Why this many? And none of them were open? Had Kanako refused to read them?

  I couldn’t reach a logical conclusion. Looking at the strange letters, my anxiety swelled even more. Where had Tohko gone?

  My shoulders heaving as I breathed, I stacked the fallen books up on the floor, then returned the letters to the box, set it beside the books, and stood up.

  “Tohko! Tohko!”

  The shouts that flew from my convulsing throat were nearly a shriek.

  I ran down the hall and opened every last one of the doors.

  “Tohko! Where are you? Tohko!!”

  A sloppy room that looked like it belonged to Ryuto. A room with a woman’s mirrored vanity table in it, the kitchen, the bathroom, the living room—Tohko was in none of them.