There were no bags on the table or the chair.
The person who sat at that table had left without ever touching the coffee, which was still warm.
“Let’s make the rules,” he said.
“From now on, you can’t eat anything unless I give it to you.”
The first day, she took her lunch at school. She had not been given breakfast, so her stomach ached with hunger and she was drooling. It was only to be expected. And it would have been too embarrassing for her to be the only person not eating lunch.
He punished her, locking her in a basement room, and did not give her food for three days.
Shut inside the room, she crouched down, hugging her empty stomach, desperately fighting back the thirst and hunger clawing at the walls of her stomach. She licked the water that dropped from the toilet, stretching out her life.
The morning of the fourth day, he opened the door and brought her food. He fed her with his own hand a sweet vegetable soup and soft bread with chestnuts in it.
Next, when she ate three bites of stew and half of a buttered roll at school, he told her the punishment and did not open the door to the basement room for three days.
She was only half-conscious due to her hunger, and in the dim darkness she saw phantoms of the dead and heard voices weeping vengefully.
He killed us.
He came for revenge.
He is a demon.
She pitched forward onto the floor, and he lifted her limp body in his arms and fed her rice porridge flavored with seven herbs and whitefish and sweet stewed apples and oranges from a silver spoon.
He would not forgive her for even taking one bite of a cookie.
He alluded to her eating the food her friend had given her with a detached, quiet voice, and as she begged for his forgiveness, he took her arm and brought her to the basement room and locked the door.
She spent five days there.
Her throat, rough with thirst, cramped up feverishly, and her stomach was in such violent pain that she felt as if a giant hand were kneading it beneath its knuckles. Her ears roared and she heard things that were not there, and ghostly white lights flitted eerily around the room. She could summon no more tears.
I’m sorry. I will never eat anything unless you give it to me.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I won’t ever eat again. I promise. I’m sorry.
“That’s right. You must not eat.”
He alone in all the world would be the one to fill her empty stomach.
She always felt his gaze upon her.
In the hallway, in the classroom, in the school yard, in the stairwell, he was watching her.
Countless images of his face covered the wall, his eyes burning with pale fire—his eyes filled with hatred—accusing her.
She must not eat. He said she must not eat.
On the bustling streets of the city, in the bright sunlight of the park, at a movie theater filled with couples, whenever she turned around, he was standing there. Everyone she passed became him: the families playing in the park, the couple sitting on a bench talking, the actors projected onto the screen of the movie theater. All of them transformed to wear his face.
His face when he removed his lightly tinted sunglasses and stared at her.
His gaze flickering with fiery hatred and cold insanity like ghostly lights.
He was watching. He was looking at her. He was looking straight at her. He was watching. He kept staring. He was watching. Watching. Watching.
The next morning, I went to see Amemiya, but she was out sick.
I had to give up and go back to my class. When I did, I saw Tohko and Kotobuki in the hall, their heads bent together, whispering.
“All right. I’ll see you after school.”
“Thanks, Nanase. That makes me feel better.”
“It’s no problem. I’m happy I can help you, Tohko. Oh!”
Kotobuki noticed me and glared, pursing her lips. Tohko turned and looked at me, too.
I gave them a smile anyway. It would have been nice if Tohko’s mood had improved, but that wish was more naively self-serving than the ultranaive Harlequin romance featuring Arab princes that Tohko had forced me to read on her recommendation.
She placed the index finger of one hand beneath her eye and stuck out her bright pink tongue, razzing me.
Then she turned back to Kotobuki and said, “See you after school, Nanase,” before walking off, her long braids flying.
I was reeling from the shock of being razzed by a girl in the hallway—wasn’t this supposed to be high school?—but I pushed it down and turned a smile on Kotobuki.
“What are you and Tohko doing after school?”
She turned away coldly, too, and in her harshest possible voice replied, “I’m not telling you. Really, it’s none of your business.”
Then she went into the classroom.
God, that was going to bug me! What were they planning on doing after school?!
By the time we finished cleaning and I looked around the room, Kotobuki was already gone.
“Hey, do you know where Kotobuki went?”
I tried asking some of her friends, but all I got in return was conjecture.
“Dunno. I don’t think there are any library shifts during exams, though.”
“She flew out of here. Maybe she has a date? Nanase is pretty popular.”
Just in case, I went up to check the club room. It was empty, just as I’d expected, but notes were scattered across the tea-colored table. Notes that were torn from college-ruled paper, notes that were suspiciously yellowed, as if they’d been brought back from the past, notes with burn marks, notes with spatters of blood—
Beside the pile of notes were black lilies arranged in a large beaker, old student rosters, anthologies of student essays, school newspapers, and a packet of tissues with the name of a seedy-looking store on it.
The student rosters, anthologies, and school newspapers were all from the two years that Kayano had been enrolled at the school. Tohko had probably been scouring them for the name Kayano Kujo, which Amemiya had called herself in the school yard that night.
A sheet of paper rested atop the student rosters, and I saw that a message had been written on it in Magic Marker.
You’re dead to me, Konoha. I’m doing this on my own now. By Tohko.
My eyes bugged out.
So she was still superangry. I guess it was wrong of me to skip out on her so many times without saying anything, however good my reasons had been.
I got the novel that Tohko had left me the day before out of my bag and set it on the desk.
Then, in a corner of the paper disowning me, I wrote a small “I’m sorry” in pencil.
I hoped she would feel better when she saw it… But how many years had Anne ignored Gilbert?
In the end, I still had no idea where Tohko and Kotobuki had gone, so I resigned myself to visiting the person who seemed to know everything.
“My, my. Isn’t this the first time you’ve come to see me all by yourself?”
Maki stood at a canvas in her workroom, but she stopped painting when I came in and grinned.
“Did Tohko leave you behind?”
I didn’t like the fact that she seemed to already know everything.
A lot of people in the school called her “princess,” but it wasn’t just because of her pedigree or her vast personal network. The girl was impressive and not easy to outmaneuver.
I pasted a bright, sociable smile on my face.
“Since you already know that, maybe you can tell me. You must have given Tohko some information. I know she was investigating Kayano Kujo. What has my president dragged one of my classmates into?”
Maki asked me a question in response, apparently enjoying herself. “And what will you give me if I tell you? As you’ve surmised, I gave Tohko some information, but she’s already compensated me for it.”
C-compensation? She couldn’t mean… I gulped.
“Did you draw her nud
e?!”
My eyes raced unintentionally to the canvas. It was a landscape painting that showed a dark vista loaded with blacks and blues. Was it a foreign country? It showed a desolate hill at night, its trees and grass bending in the wind. I scanned the picture from one end to the other and didn’t see anything that looked remotely like Tohko’s nude image.
“Wouldn’t you like to know? But yes, I’ll just say that it was worth seeing,” Maki said, baiting me. “Well, Konoha? Would you get naked for me, too? I would draw you a lovely picture. Wouldn’t you like a memento of your youth?”
“I think I’ll pass on the nude painting. But if you tell me where Tohko went, I won’t tell her what you did to her.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
Maki decided to play innocent, so I gave her the rundown in a tone of endless patience.
“You were the one behind this whole ghost prank, weren’t you? When we were keeping watch in the school yard, you made the lights in the building flicker and played a tape of clapping noises and a woman crying, right? And you sent Tohko the bouquet of black lilies and the chain letter and put blood-spattered notes in our mailbox. All of that was you, wasn’t it?”
Maki set her paintbrush down, folded her arms, and looked me carefully up and down.
“Hmph… and what’s your proof?”
“When you go so over the top, even an idiot would know it was you. A bouquet of black lilies is way too expensive for any regular high schooler to buy for a joke. And as the granddaughter of the school’s director, you would be able to control the lights, too. You’re the only one who fits the criteria, and you’re the only one with something to gain for messing with Tohko.”
“And what would that be?”
“I’m sure you enjoyed watching Tohko get all worked up. Then you gave her bad leads and put burn marks and bloodstains on some notes and ratcheted everything up a notch. Besides, Tohko would be so obsessed with uncovering the truth about the ghost that she would probably come and ask you for information. And when she did, you would be able to demand whatever you wanted from her as compensation. And that’s exactly what ended up happening.”
The smile still hadn’t left Maki’s lips.
“And?”
“If Tohko found out, she’d probably go berserk.”
“If I tell you where she went, you don’t say a word.”
“I won’t.”
“Too bad. That’s not enough.”
“Huh?” I asked stupidly.
“You see, I don’t care if Tohko finds out,” Maki proclaimed coolly, her face like the Buddha gazing down at a stupid monkey.
“Wha—? But Tohko is going to be steamed. She holds grudges forever. She’ll stop talking to you. She’s the kind of immature girl who’ll make faces at you in the hall.”
“How wonderful. I wonder what it’s like to have Tohko puff up and glower at me or make faces. When she’s angry, her face is so adorable I want to cover it in ink and press it against a piece of paper. They say boys tease little girls they like, right? If Tohko despised me for the rest of her life… the thought alone sends shivers down my spine.”
I was floored. I lost all my momentum.
I was done for. Maki had the same proclivities as Ryuto did. Arguments from an ordinary kid like me wouldn’t get through to people like them.
Maki saw my shoulders slump and she grinned.
“You’re way too green to even think about threatening me, Konoha.”
“I picked up on that, thanks.”
“But out of respect for your audacity, I’ll tell you one thing. Tohko went to see Ellen Dean.”
Ellen Dean? I had never heard of her. And she was a foreigner?
I was bewildered, but Maki briskly ordered me away.
“All right now, go home. I’m busy. I have so much to do lately, it’s giving me an ulcer. My illustrious grandfather and all the rest are after me about everything. They even dared to criticize my hobbies, so I’m really fed up. I’m just too sensitive for all this.”
I wondered who Ellen Dean was. Was she connected to Kayano Kujo?
So Tohko went to see her, huh? But why did she take Kotobuki with her?
I was walking along, turning these questions over in my mind, when Ryuto suddenly jumped out from behind the school gate.
“I couldn’t wait to see you. You don’t have a cell phone, do you? Neither does Tohko. But cell phones are indispensable nowadays.”
“You scared me!”
“How was Hotaru?”
Ryuto leaned forward, his face serious.
“Amemiya was out today. I couldn’t see her.”
“Is she bad?”
“I asked some of her classmates, but they didn’t know.”
He grunted. “She might’ve collapsed from hunger.”
“If she did, I think her uncle would have taken her to the hospital.”
“That guy’s a snake. You can call him her uncle, but he used to be a total stranger.”
It looked like Ryuto was frantic with worry. He knit his brows and chewed on his nails irritably; then he suddenly looked up and said, “Let’s go see how she’s doing, Konoha.”
“Let’s play a game,” he said.
In the cold room that sunlight would never penetrate, lit by a candle’s flame, his lips twisted into a smile.
“From now on, whenever you’re in this room, you’re going to call me——.”
The name he gave her was that of a boy who had died long ago. A name she knew was secret and not to be spoken. He taught it to her.
“I’ll call you——.”
“I’m not——.”
“No, you are——.”
“No! I’m——.”
“——would never have looked at me with such frightened eyes or spoken like such a coward or retreated like that or have touched me so reluctantly or spoken in such a trembling voice, as if begging for my pity. No,——would never smile like that. Once more—no, that’s no different from that terrified little girl. It’s no use. Until you can smile like——, I’m withholding your food. I only cook for——. I don’t feed the likes of you. Here, change into this.——never wore green.”
That was the ritual for turning back time and resurrecting the dead.
In the windowless gray room, she waited each night for his visits.
She held her breath and listened with her whole body to the sound of his steps as he descended the stairs, and she became the girl he wanted her to be and greeted him with the face he wanted, with the mannerisms he wanted, with the voice he wanted.
Only the flickering light of the candle cast any warmth on her white face as she circled her arms around his neck in an embrace.
The light of the sun did not reach this place. That was because it was a cold grave, and she was a ghost, she thought. Ghosts can only exist in the world of darkness. So during the day, I am dead. I can only be alive in the world of darkness.
Her faces covered the dingy wall.
She looked at her and cackled.
She gripped her pen and wrote strings of letters on the wall, on her face.
She wrote the words like the storm that roiled in her heart morning, noon, and night, as if expelling them from her twitching throat.
But she must never tell him those words.
She must never open the pages of that old book to him.
Amemiya’s house was a Western-style mansion built on top of a frigid hill.
The lonely road ascended without end. When we finally arrived at the gates, we could see a dense forest of trees within. The sky was overcast and the wind had picked up, rustling the trees loudly. The scene was straight out of a gothic horror story, and it unnerved me.
“Isn’t it rude for us to just show up? Besides, her family might be home…”
“Kurosaki’s at work right now. Besides, apparently he doesn’t come home that much, so we don’t have to worry. I’ve been to Hotaru’s house two or three times, but there’s never been anyone here when
I come over.”
“But if she was out sick, she might be asleep.”
To be honest, I wasn’t on board with this. After the way she’d left yesterday, wouldn’t busting into her house just alienate her even more? I’m sure she would want to be left alone when she’s upset…
“Then I’ll call her and see.”
Ryuto got his cell phone out of his pocket. There was a cute rabbit ornament on it—who had given him that?
Apparently Amemiya picked up right away, and Ryuto started talking to her, relieved.
“Yeah, I… I heard you weren’t at school, so I came to see how—hey, Hotaru? Hotaru?”
What had happened? Ryuto’s color drained away and he started shouting Amemiya’s name.
She must have hung up.
Ryuto grunted. “She’s acting weird. She was really worked up, and it sounded like she was crying.”
Just then, we heard the sound of glass shattering from beyond the gates.
Ryuto rushed the gate, and I followed after him. The arched gate was unlocked, so we got inside surprisingly easily.
We heard the sound of glass shattering again, much more clearly this time.
From the yard, we could see that the glass doors of a room on the first floor were broken.
Past the shards of the broken doors, I caught a glimpse of a human figure swinging a long, thin stick.
The front door wasn’t locked, either. The piercing sound of shattering glass continued. I followed desperately after Ryuto without stopping to knock. We ran inside.
We dashed down the long hall, and Ryuto opened the door to the room. An astonishing sight was revealed to us.
The grand glass doors that faced the terrace were in ruins, and the glass on shelves and a sideboard were similarly demolished, transparent shards littering the thin carpet like gravel.
The torn curtains billowed in a strong wind from outside, and they tangled together like the sails of a storm-ravaged ship. The bookshelves were all empty of the neatly ordered spines that had once filled them, and the books lay scattered on the floor.
The frames of the pictures decorating the walls were broken and hung at angles, on the verge of toppling from the wall; a set of deer antlers listed tragically, broken in half; the sofa’s upholstery had been slit and stuffing billowed out. The dishes on the sideboard were also broken, and the table was covered in dents.
Book Girl and the Famished Spirit Page 9
