Book Girl and the Suicidal Mime Page 9

  Just then, I felt a nearby canvas hit me in the head.

  “Oh my God! I hate you, Konoha!”

  The mature aura that had surrounded Tohko had evaporated. She held a canvas in both hands and swung it at me again, shouting at me with tears in her eyes. “Hate you, hate you, hate yoooou!”

  “Hey, Tohko, try to be careful with that. Guess I’ve got no choice.”

  Maki flipped the picture around.

  Tohko stopped hitting me and we both leaned forward to examine it.

  The picture showed three boys and two girls dressed in the school’s old uniforms, before they’d changed styles. The boy with the brashly confident expression was Manabe, the intellectual-looking boy in the glasses was Soeda, and the strong-willed beauty was Rihoko. The pale, slender girl in the center was probably Sakiko Kijima. And the boy shyly holding Sakiko’s hand was Shuji Kataoka.

  Long bangs fell across his face and he wore an easy smile on his girlish face.

  He was taller and looked more grown-up than me.

  But other than that…

  I gulped in surprise. Tohko’s eyes went wide, too.

  “He looks exactly like you, Konoha…”

  It was true: Shuji Kataoka looked so much like me he could have been my uncle, or even my older brother.

  When I think back to how S and I became closer, I see it was an odd thing.

  At first, S hated me and would glare at me and speak sharply.

  Even when I donned my clown costume and everyone laughed, S alone watched me in irritation.

  S saw through everything.

  That thought chilled me to the core and caused me such dismay that I could have groveled, dragging my belly over the ground like a dog.

  And so I insinuated myself with S, acting even more foolish, even more incompetent, even more submissive, in my attempt to mold S’s opinion of me.

  S did begin to laugh at me, almost in resignation. Perhaps it was out of pity. I crept ever closer to S, worshipped and swore my false allegiance to S. To our friends, we thus became the master and the slave.

  But the fact that S was my enemy never changed.

  Sometimes S would condemn my clowning with a pitying look or an indifferent attitude. When S told me outright that I was lying, I felt as if a chasm yawned open at my feet and I was about to tumble in headlong.

  Had I committed a sin? By being born in this wretched body that contained no human emotion? Incapable of grief or adoration, I had merely staged a dangerous performance. Was all of that my fault? Yes, I suppose it must have been.

  Sin has been a part of me since birth; I am Cain wearing his brother’s skin. Why shouldn’t I be reproached for that? Whatever I do, I can only suffer.

  What does S want from me?

  To stop acting the clown?

  To reveal my monstrosity to the world and suffer the stones they would hurl at me?

  But S knows nothing! Not the pain that burns through the body of a person born as a monster, nor the fear. S knows none of it—none of it!

  Just now I felt such powerful hatred for S’s “righteousness” that I choked with its heat.

  How much did Takeda know about Shuji Kataoka?

  The next day, I sat at my desk during the third-period break and thought about everything that had happened.

  Takeda hadn’t come to see me again today.

  What in the world had she been thinking? What had she hoped to achieve?

  And why had Shuji Kataoka committed suicide after his girlfriend’s death?

  When I’d read his second suicide note, I was struck by how much he had suffered because of the shallowness of his affection for other people.

  If it wasn’t the death of his girlfriend, then what had convinced him to kill himself?

  I didn’t really understand the part of his letter where he talked about killing someone.

  It was possible that he had written that because he felt some responsibility for Sakiko’s death, but it read as if he had witnessed someone else’s death firsthand.

  It was hopeless. There were too many mysteries. Maybe there was a second installment somewhere, like in No Longer Human. Maybe it would be stuck inside another of Dazai’s books. But no, if that were the case, someone would have already found it. Wait a second…

  A question suddenly occurred to me.

  Takeda said that she found Shuji’s letter inside a copy of No Longer Human.

  But Shuji had jumped to his death ten years ago.

  Wasn’t it strange that the letter had escaped notice for ten whole years? People must have been borrowing No Longer Human all the time, too.

  I felt someone’s eyes on me and looked up.

  Kotobuki was standing right in front of me, glaring. It looked like she had something to say to me.

  “My change?” she snapped.

  “Huh?”

  “You haven’t paid back my ten yen yet.”

  “Oh! Uh, sorry.”

  I’d forgotten all about it. I dug my wallet out frantically, but unfortunately, I didn’t have a ten-yen coin. “Umm…”

  “It’s fine. Later.”

  “Sorry…”

  Well, that was totally awkward. But seriously, why wouldn’t she just get over ten yen?

  Kotobuki didn’t move, so I guess there was more she wanted to unload on me. Her cheeks were flushed, and she kept shifting her eyes around, looking torn. Finally she burst out, “Hey, did you know that Takeda is going out with a first-year boy? I hear they’re all over each other.”

  “Wha—?”

  I gaped, and Kotobuki went on coolly. “It’s true. I asked a first-year at student council. They’ve been together since April, and they eat lunch together in the yard every day. I guess she was two-timing you, Inoue. Oh, but you and Takeda weren’t dating, were you? So I guess you wouldn’t care.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.”

  Kotobuki was surprised. I’m sure I must have had a scary look on my face.

  The bell rang and Kotobuki reminded me once more about returning her ten yen before she all but ran away. She looked as though she was on the verge of tears, but I didn’t have time to worry about that.

  So Takeda was dating a first-year boy? What was going on?

  I went out to the school yard at lunchtime.

  White clouds floated in the May sky overhead and the breeze was warm. Students were scattered here and there with their lunches. In their midst, I spotted Takeda and her first-year boyfriend.

  They sat next to each other on the grass and had their lunch boxes spread out in their laps on napkins.

  The napkins were part of a set in different colors: Takeda’s was pink, and the boy’s was blue. Their lunch boxes looked like they matched, too, but the boyfriend’s was one size bigger.

  Takeda was talking animatedly to her boyfriend.

  “Aren’t these shrimp dumplings great, Hiro? I made them fresh, y’know.”

  “They’re the best I ever had! They’re still crisp and everything.”

  “Heh-heh. I seasoned them with pepper. And there’s a little bit of onion in it. Goes well with the rice, right?”

  “Yeah. You’re such a good cook, Chee.”

  “I tried extra hard for you, Hiro.”

  “Hey, Chee, I don’t have basketball practice on Sunday. You wanna see a movie?”

  “Oh wow! Absolutely! Hurray, this is our fourth date!”

  The boy blushed; he seemed to be the one who’d come chasing after Takeda the day it had rained. He had the look of a jock, with his short hair and simple face.

  The two of them chatted sweetly. They were every inch the infatuated couple.

  “Oh—”

  Takeda’s face froze as soon as she noticed me.

  I hadn’t done anything wrong, but my ears and cheeks burned. I felt bad, and embarrassed. I stared at Takeda, then turned and hurried back to my classroom.

  What’s up with that?

  Seriously, what was that?

  When classes we
re over, I stepped out of my classroom to head for the book club. Takeda was waiting for me in the hall.

  She was just squirming and didn’t say a word, so I walked right past her in silence.

  “Err—”

  Takeda trailed after me.

  I kept walking in silence for a while; then, without turning around, I coldly asked, “What?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Did you come to explain about your boyfriend?”

  “H-Hiro is…”

  “I heard you’ve been dating since April. Every day you eat homemade lunches in the yard and you’ve been on three dates already. Do I have that right?”

  Even I thought I was being mean, but I couldn’t contain my indignation.

  For the last two weeks I’d been writing love letters and going to the archery club and pulling out old yearbooks at the library, doing everything I could to help Takeda out.

  When I’d seen Takeda talk about Shuji with such exuberance, I thought it would be nice if she could convey those feelings to him. Takeda had come every day to give an eager report on how things were going with him. It was embarrassing when she did it in front of my classmates, but I’d been thrilled for her. When Takeda swore through tears that she wanted to do whatever she could to help Shuji, my heart ached with hers.

  But now I find out she’s had a boyfriend since April? That they were all over each other?

  Give me a break.

  I came to a stop on the landing of the stairwell and glared at Takeda.

  Takeda shrunk down and stared at her feet.

  “Why did you pretend to have a crush on an upperclassman on the archery team? What exactly were you trying to get me to do?”

  Takeda was silent, apparently pained.

  “It’s all right if you don’t want to answer. Everything else you’ve ever said to me has been a lie. Shuji Kataoka is dead. He jumped off a roof ten years ago.”

  When I said that, Takeda looked up in surprise. I knew there was nothing to be gained by continuing to be so harsh to her, but the words kept coming.

  “Shuji Kataoka only exists in your delusions. I’m done being jerked around by you. It’s beyond creepy that a guy who looks exactly like me jumped off a building ten years ago. I just want to forget all about it. Don’t ever come to my class again.”

  I turned my back on Takeda and went up the stairs. Takeda called out in a strangled voice, “S-someone like you… could never understand!”

  When I turned back around, Takeda was staring up at me desolately.

  Something about her face reminded me of the last look another girl I’d known had given me. It caught me off-guard.

  Miu!

  Takeda bit her lip and looked down, then ran down the stairs.

  It was a long time before I could move from that spot.

  “Konoha, I don’t think you would ever understand.”

  Chapter 5–The Book Girl’s Deduction

  How can I use S’s weakness?

  How can I move S’s heart and drag out all of its secrets?

  I turned the problem over incessantly, but I stumbled upon the key to destroying S when I wasn’t even looking.

  I spent the last weekend of May in a funk.

  Even when I was playing video games in my room, or watching a DVD, or playing with my little sister, or eating with my family, I couldn’t forget Takeda’s desolate look or her declaration that “Someone like you… could never understand!” It blurred into another person’s face and voice and sent me into a lingering depression.

  I was playing a card game in the living room with Maika, who had just started elementary school that year, when my mother brought in our dinner. She asked me, “Konoha looks sad, doesn’t he? Did something happen at school?”

  “Huh? No, nothing. It’s the same as always.”

  “Really?”

  “Come on, I swear it’s nothing.”

  My mom smiled faintly.

  “I suppose. You’ve been much more cheerful since you started high school, like you used to be. I’m glad that you seem to be enjoying high school.”

  “Yeah, I’m having fun.”

  The last couple days hadn’t been so great, but maybe tomorrow I’d be able to get back to my regular life.

  Not arguing, not struggling, not clinging to wild hopes; just peaceful and ordinary. I would go to book club after school and write snacks for Tohko until the setting sun filled the room with gold. I would listen to Tohko’s litanies. I would needle her…

  “All right, time for dinner. Go get your father, Maika.”

  “ ’Kay.”

  Maika scampered off. My mother picked up again in a gentle voice. “Konoha, as long as you’re happy, that’s all we want for you.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Two years ago, I put my family through a lot.

  The trade-off for my unearned glory was losing something that I valued and adored for a very long time.

  I didn’t want to do that ever again.

  After dinner, I collapsed into bed and listened to my favorite music on my headphones. Something fast and upbeat to cheer me up.

  While I was listening to it, I suddenly thought of Tohko.

  I wonder what Tohko ate today.

  I hadn’t been writing snacks for her much lately.

  When I told her about Takeda’s boyfriend, she looked very sad.

  I thought that finding out she’d been tricked, when she had gone so far as to strip in front of me in order to get information, was driving her toward tears, so I jokingly offered, “Come on, don’t look so sad. Want me to go squeeze that report out of her? She’s all cuddly with that classmate of hers, so I bet she would write something sweet enough to give you a toothache. Just how you like it.”

  But Tohko shook her head and looked even sadder. “It’s not that. You look closer to tears than I do.”

  My faculties failed me, and all I could do was fall silent.

  First my mom, now Tohko—all I did was make people worry.

  I felt pathetic and angry at myself.

  “I’ll write you something sweet tomorrow, Tohko.”

  Like poison falling—drip, drip—I watched with naked awareness on my face as—little by little—S went insane.

  I can tell that S’s usual ease has disappeared.

  And that S’s eyes are roving skittishly, and that S’s voice is quavering.

  Now and then, S has begun to sigh when no one is around and to tear at their hair, and to spin around to look over their shoulder in surprise.

  Very soon.

  My preparations are complete.

  All that remains is to turn the key and open the door.

  I have written a letter to S.

  I’m waiting on the roof.

  Let’s discuss the truth.

  The next day, too, the weather was beautiful.

  From the classroom window, I could see the sky was a bright, translucent blue, and the new leaves glimmered in the sunlight. During one of the breaks between classes, I hung my head out the window and filled my lungs with the air of early summer.

  I sat back down and noticed Akutagawa coming toward me. It was rare for the taciturn Akutagawa to seek out a conversation with anyone.

  “The alumni came again on Friday. They were asking about you.”

  “Huh? What about?”

  “What class you’re in, what sort of guy you are.”

  They were probably wondering about me because I looked like Shuji. Now that I knew Shuji had committed suicide, I also understood why they’d been at such a loss when I questioned them before.

  “I’ll let them know the main stuff.”

  “Thanks, Akutagawa.”

  He nodded and went back to his seat.

  I remembered that I had to return Kotobuki’s ten yen to her, and dug around for my wallet.

  Great, I actually have it today.

  I went over to Kotobuki and held the coin out to her. “Here’s your change.”

  Kotobuki bi
t her lip nervously and looked away from me. “… Thanks.”

  “Thanks for replacing the book for me. Later.”

  “Uh, hey…”

  “Hm?”

  She hesitated, then muttered a sullen “Nothing” and fell silent.

  Maybe she was still thinking about how she’d told me that Takeda had a boyfriend. I thought I probably ought to say something, but I knew that if I said anything wrong it would just rub her the wrong way, so I dropped the ten yen into Kotobuki’s hand and went back to my seat.

  When classes ended, I was walking down the hall to get to book club when I heard someone call my name behind me.

  When I turned to look, I was surprised to see who was standing there, panting.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “There’s something important I need to talk to you about. Would you come with me?”

  “Huh? But—”

  “It won’t take long. Please. It’s urgent.”

  “… All right.”

  I followed helplessly where he led.

  Why had he come looking for me? Had something happened? He looked tense and forbidding.

  He climbed farther and farther up the stairs.

  Third floor—

  Fourth floor—

  He pressed on in silence but for the clicking of his footsteps, his eyes fixed intently ahead.

  When I realized where he was going, I felt a chill.

  “Um, where are we going?”

  “The roof.”

  Fear gripped my heart and a wave of numbness assaulted me, tingling through my lips and fingertips.

  An image flashed into my mind: a sky like the deep blue ocean above, concrete below, heat rising up in shimmering waves, my shadow and the girl’s, the water tank, the rusty guard-rails…

  The girl stopping in front of the rails and turning around—

  “I’m sorry, I can’t go on the roof.”

  The numbness in my fingers grew stronger, and my misgivings rapidly deepened. My legs crumpled with terror to the point where I thought I might fall to my knees, but the man yanked me up harshly by the arm.