“Ah-choo! Ah-choo! Good, you made it home. Why didn’t you call me? I was afraid that you’d been eaten by a ghost! Ah-choo!”
I stretched out on my bed and held my hand up to look at Tohko’s phone number.
She didn’t have to come all that way and then write it on me. I could have found it on the book club’s member list (though it was only the two of us), but she’d grabbed my wrist and neatly written each number with a Sharpie. Her eyes had been unfocused the whole time, and I’d been shocked at how hot and sweaty her hand had been.
“I would have felt bad if you were snuggled up in bed asleep. How are you feeling?”
“I’m all better. But more important, what’s going on with Chia?”
I knew I couldn’t believe her when she said she was fine: I remembered times when she’d pushed herself too far before. But I told her about my conversation with Takeda.
She was surprised to hear that I was going with Takeda to visit the archery team tomorrow.
“Shuji’s ghost might appear. Don’t forget to take some salt with you, Konoha.”
She was totally obsessed with ghosts. Did she know some ghosts personally? If there was such a thing as a goblin who eats books, I supposed it wouldn’t be so strange if ghosts were real, too.
When I admitted that I’d been rereading No Longer Human and found myself getting into it, she sneezed and then chuckled.
“Whenever I’m com-plete-ly down in the dumps, that book can bum. me. out. Dazai’s magic is serious stuff.”
“When have you ever been depressed, Tohko?”
“How about when someone tells me I’m in a zone of romantic slaughter?”
“Haha.”
“Or when everyone is eating fruit parfaits and I’m the only one who can’t taste how good they are…”
I stopped laughing. The stuff that you and I eat is nothing more than tasteless sand to Tohko.
Not being able to taste the food that everyone around you swears is delicious must be so isolating. It’s the exact same situation as the protagonist of No Longer Human who suffers because he can’t feel what others feel.
Tohko sneezed again, then said in a cheerful voice, “I make do with my imagination. I just picture a superdelicious book, and then I can talk about how delicious everything is, too.”
“You’re such a book girl.”
“Heh-heh. You got it. Oh, but there’s one part of No Longer Human that I can never relate to.”
“What’s that?”
“When he says, ‘I don’t have any concept of what it means to feel hunger.’ No matter how hard I try to imagine it, I can’t understand that at all…. Man, talking to you made me hungry. Ah-choo!”
Even when she was sick or depressed, apparently Tohko never changed much.
I told her she needed to take vitamin C for her cold, then hung up.
A book rich in vitamin C—I wondered what kind of book that would be.
Tohko stayed home from school the next day. I guess she was trying to take care of herself.
After classes ended, Takeda came looking for me.
“All right, Konoha, let’s go!”
She was so excited, I might have thought we were going to an amusement park.
“What’s this, Inoue? A date?”
“No way!”
My classmates teased us, but I gently deflected it with a smile.
Kotobuki was glaring at me frigidly. Maybe she thought I was a two-faced liar because I’d told her that Takeda and I weren’t dating.
Takeda was dragging me from the room, and we headed out.
“You’re sure Shuji is on the archery team?”
“Why are you asking me such a silly question after all this time? Of course he is!”
And what exactly was so silly about that question?
I was still wary when we arrived at the archery team’s practice hall.
“Hello, everybody! Do you mind if we watch?” Takeda called out brightly at the entrance to the hall.
“Hey, it’s Chia! Where’ve you been?”
“Hey, is that your boyfriend? Chia, I’m shocked!”
The team members came over and started talking to her as if they knew her well. I couldn’t argue with the fact that Takeda apparently came here all the time.
Which I guess means that she came here to see Shuji…
This was just getting more confusing.
Team members brought over two chairs for us.
Each time an arrow hit the bull’s-eye, Takeda would applaud and shout, “Wow! Amazing! Nice shot!”
A little ways into practice, Akutagawa appeared in his uniform. When he saw me, he made a weird face.
I nodded slightly to him, and he returned the gesture. I’m sure he was only acting true to his character by not gossiping with someone from his class, but I was embarrassed that he thought I’d come to watch the practice with a date.
I whispered to Takeda, “So which one is Shuji?”
“I’m lookiiing. Ohhh, it’s him!”
Takeda pointed.
I was blown away. The person she was pointing at was Akutagawa, currently drawing his bow. His back was perfectly straight and his face intent; he looked awesome.
“What? Akutagawa is Shuji?”
“Whaaaaaat? You know him, Konoha?”
“He’s in my class. How can Akutagawa be Shuji? He’s a second-year student, and he’s so serious. I can’t believe he’s ever told a joke in his entire life.”
“Yeah, that’s true. He’s what you would call ‘stoic,’ right?”
“Huh? So Akutagawa isn’t Shuji?”
Takeda bubbled with laughter. “Of course he isn’t! I just wanted to show you who was the best shooter on the team!”
Twang!
Akutagawa’s arrow embedded itself in the center of the target.
“Eeee! Bull’s-eye! That was great!” Takeda leapt to her feet to cheer for him. “See? He’s really good, isn’t he?”
I fumed. “Takeda, we are not spies from another school here to do reconnaissance on the archery team’s practice, and we are not here to do a story for the school paper on who the hottest members of the archery team are.”
“I know that! We’re here so we can see Shuji.”
“So where is he?”
“Let’s see…”
Takeda scanned the practice hall from end to end.
Just then, four or five adults came in.
“Hey, there, kids! You practicing hard?”
“Oh, it’s Manabe!”
“The alums are here, everybody!”
“Hello, Mister Manabe.”
“Hey, Kashiwagi. You improved any since last time?”
“Yes! I practiced like you said, and now my arrows go exactly where I want them to.”
“Great, I’ll have to see that.”
“Thanks!”
“Soeda and Rihoko, too! You haven’t been back to visit for a while.”
“Well, we’re here to bother you again.”
“Heh-heh, it really has been a long time. So many memories!”
“I heard you’re going to have a baby, Rihoko. Congratulations!”
“Thanks. I’ve still got a while to go, though. I stopped working last week, so now I have lots of time on my hands. I’ll be right back here next month!”
“You sure, Rihoko? You shouldn’t push yourself.”
“You’re such a worrier, Manabe.”
Apparently the alumni had come to watch the team practice. There was one woman among the men.
“Once a month, some alumni come back and mentor the team,” Takeda explained. “That handsome man with the mustache is Mister Manabe. He was captain ten years ago when they placed second in a national competition. The members from back then still get together and keep an eye on their successors, I guess.”
“How’d you find all that out?”
“Because I’ve been coming here all the time to watch, of course. I’m like the team’s cheerleader now,” Takeda s
aid proudly.
We’d gotten off topic again. When was I gonna see Shuji?
Just then, I heard a voice that was tense with fear.
“Shuji—!”
I quickly scanned the area.
Shuji had finally appeared!
But no matter which way I looked, I didn’t see any likely candidates.
“Shuji? That’s impossible!”
“There’s no way.”
Other people were crying out in fearful voices.
Where was he? Where?
Suddenly I smelled sweat and tobacco; I felt hands on either side of my face and I was pulled out of my chair.
The man with the mustache was staring down at me, his eyes so wide it seemed they would pop from their sockets. It was Manabe, the alum.
“Shuji…”
The name slipped huskily from Manabe’s nicotine-stained lips as his eyes devoured me.
I was stupefied.
I… was Shuji?
Was he saying that Shuji Kataoka was me?
Manabe’s hands dropped away from my cheeks, which had grown cold as ice.
“No… you’re not him,” he murmured weakly, the fire vanished from his eyes. “You couldn’t be, of course… Shuji is—I’m sorry. You just looked like someone I knew. Are you with the school paper?”
“No, I’m here to watch the practice. I’m a second-year student.”
The group of alumni had surrounded me, all of them looking at me as if they’d seen a ghost.
It disturbed me to be the object of such looks, and I shuddered.
Why were they looking at me like that? And why had they said that I looked like Shuji Kataoka?
“He really does resemble Kataoka,” the woman whispered fiercely. “Kataoka was a little taller, but… your face is exactly the same. You could be Kataoka’s brother. What’s your name?”
“K-Konoha Inoue.”
“Konoha? That’s an unusual name. But it’s sweet. Is there anyone in your family named Kataoka?”
“Hey, leave him alone, Rihoko.”
One of the alums, an intellectual-looking man wearing glasses and a suit, interrupted the woman—Rihoko.
“But Konoha might have some connection to Shuji. They look so alike.”
“Not that alike. It’s been so long since we’ve seen Shuji that the memory has faded, so we think that some boy who vaguely resembles him is his twin.”
“Yeah… you may be right, Soeda.”
“Manabe…”
Rihoko’s face stilled.
“Um—” I ventured impetuously. “What sort of person was Shuji Kataoka?”
The group of alumni turned and regarded me as one. Then they looked at each other uncomfortably.
“Kataoka was actually quite a troublemaker,” Rihoko said suddenly. “He took the easy way out and didn’t take anything seriously, and the only reason he ever spoke up was to tell a joke.”
“Cut it out, Rihoko,” Manabe stopped her. Then he looked at me with a pained smile. “Shuji was on the archery team with us.”
With them!
So Shuji was a graduate of the archery team, too, just like Manabe and the rest.
Shuji Kataoka did exist.
But not on the current archery team—he had been on the team years ago.
I glanced over to see how Takeda was taking this. She was staring at the alumni, round-eyed.
Huh? Hadn’t she known that Shuji was a graduate? Or had she gotten a crush on him without realizing that? I suppose that might be possible.
“What’s he doing now?”
What sort of man had Shuji Kataoka become, from the boy who had constantly felt “dread at the fact that my own concept of happiness fails to mesh with the rest of the world’s view of the same emotion,” who had therefore decided to don the mask of a mime?
Beside me, I heard Takeda’s breath catch.
Manabe’s face grew even gloomier.
“We aren’t going to see Shuji again. I’m sorry, it’s not a very pleasant story. Let’s leave it at that. I’m truly sorry to have startled you, Konoha.”
“Let’s get back to practice!” the man in the glasses said brightly, and no one said anything more about Shuji.
The alums split off to mentor the kids, leaving Takeda and me by ourselves.
Takeda fixated on the targets with a strained expression on her face.
Her face was hard and strong—and intent—as if she were looking at a hated enemy.
“Takeda?”
She looked at me, and her face was horribly empty.
“… I’m sorry. It looks like Shuji isn’t coming today.”
Chapter 4–One Bright Day in May, He…
Why don’t I tell you about S?
S was the person who understood me better than any in the world, was my nemesis, my best friend, my other half, my eternal opponent.
The terrifying wisdom S possessed penetrated everything.
My act, which hoodwinked everyone I ever met, failed to convince S.
I feared S accordingly.
The more fear I felt of S, the less I was able to escape.
In classes and after, I was with S.
I felt as though S’s gaze was a judge employed by God to check me—a thought which caused my limbs to tremble and sweat to break out with fear and shame.
This world is hell.
I was a slave to S.
I spent lunch the next day scouring through old yearbooks at the library.
I sat down at a table in the reading room and flipped through the album from ten years ago.
There was a picture of the archery team taken after they’d placed in the national tournament. There was the young Manabe without his mustache, the man with the glasses, and even Rihoko, all of them smiling and holding certificates and a trophy.
There was no one who looked like Shuji Kataoka.
I turned next to the class photos.
It gave me a strange feeling to examine each person’s face in turn, searching for someone who looked like me.
Class one, class two, class three, class four…
When I turned the next page, I felt as if a cold hand had just stroked the back of my neck.
There he was.
In the group photo for class five of the third-year students.
The students’ names were listed below it, and the name Shuji Kataoka was among them.
But in this, the critical photo, I could not find his face. There was space at the top of the page where it looked like a photo had been pasted in.
That part had been neatly cut out.
What did it mean that his picture had been up there?
And who in the world would have cut it out and taken it?
A shiver ran though me.
Maybe Shuji transferred to another school before graduation. Or maybe… maybe he was in the hospital because he got sick or hurt, so he couldn’t be in the class picture. Or maybe…
I closed the yearbook and moved to the computer room: I wanted to try an Internet search on Shuji Kataoka and the school’s name from ten years ago.
I found an old newspaper article.
Reading it made me feel dizzy.
Ten years ago in May, Shuji Kataoka (seventeen), a third-year student at Seijoh Academy, had jumped off a roof to his death.
The words “jumped off a roof” dug icy claws into my heart, beating violently against the gates of old memories.
It was too much.
My throat was dry, my head spinning.
Of all things, a roof.
And he jumped off, of all things.
It was terrible.
The article said that he had stabbed himself in the chest with a knife just before jumping. It mentioned that his death was believed to be a suicide because of a note left at his home.
I felt sick to my stomach, thinking about the insurmountable regrets and despair in his life.
Why did it always have to be like this?
Before we had discovered the second
letter, Shuji Kataoka had taken his own life, just like Osamu Dazai.
“No way! How could Shuji have killed himself ten years ago?”
At book club after school, Tohko was just as floored as I had been when she heard my news.
“I wonder if Chia knows about this.”
“I don’t know,” I murmured dispassionately.
I had felt dizzy and nauseous when I read the article about Shuji’s suicide at the library, and I’d been terrified that maybe that was going to kick in again, but the chaos had receded like a wave, leaving only questions.
“It shouldn’t be possible to meet someone who’s been dead for ten years, so that means that Takeda has been lying to us. Why would she have done that? What benefit does she get from doing something like that?”
“It may have something to do with the fact that you resemble Shuji. Are you sure there’s no one in your family named Kataoka?”
“I’m sure. At least, no one I’ve ever heard of.”
The day that Takeda had run past, crying in the rain, she had called me “Shuji.” She had known that I resembled him.
So then why had she spent so much time with me?
Tohko held one end of her braids in each hand, then sprang to her feet.
“Oh, maybe! You and Shuji might be brothers! Shuji’s suicide could just be an act, and in fact he’d secretly gotten mixed up in a terrible plot. Relatives after his inheritance turned their sights on you, the rightful heir to the company, and they sent a string of assassins after you. Little Chia is actually your bodyguard, and, and, and…”
“Cut it out. That’s such cheap story development.”
Tohko slumped. “I’m sorry. It just came to me.”
“I think your brain got cooked when you were sick.”
“That’s so mean! I’m all better now. And besides, my hunches might not be all wrong, you know!”
“Hunches? That wasn’t a hunch, it was total delusion.”
“Hmmph.”
Tohko scowled and puffed out her cheeks grumpily.
“Oh, I know. We need to investigate this case in depth. My hunches might be just a tiny bit right.”
Book Girl and the Suicidal Mime Page 7
