Book Girl and the Captive Fool

by Mizuki Nomura

  Ever since that day when my shameful choice brought down the worst results and hurt people, I’ve tried hard to pretend to be a person of integrity, but in the end I’m repeating the same mistake over again.

  I meant to make the best choices wisely and cautiously, but yet again I was ruining the lives of the people who had placed their trust in me, causing them pain and sorrow.

  What did I do wrong?

  When did it happen? Where?

  Perhaps, as foolish as I am, I have no capacity to protect you. Six years ago, I was trying to protect my friend. Even if it was a betrayal to my friend, I believed I would save her by doing it. But that was an error based on ignorance.

  And I cannot shake from my mind the thought that I am even now making a mistake. I am afraid of granting your wish, because there’s no guarantee at all that it’s the right thing to do.

  But what will become of you the moment I turn my back? When I consider that, doubt smolders in my heart as it has always done over whether it’s the right choice to go to you and comply with your wish—whether or not you insult me or despise me.

  But no. It would be dishonorable.

  I hope that you read this letter instead of destroying it.

  Two whole weeks went by.

  There was no marked change in Akutagawa’s behavior after all that, so I thought he must have solved his problem with Sarashina.

  That day after school, everyone rehearsed the play again.

  “They say those who have truly loved will never be brokenhearted. That seems so sad, almost unbearably sad.”

  Akutagawa was giving a good performance, of course. The words he spoke so smoothly felt fringed with pain and melancholy. Maybe that was because he was going through a painful romance right now.

  On the other hand, Tohko’s Nojima continued to be high-strung. It looked like she had already memorized her lines; she didn’t need to look at the script and could throw herself into the role, overacting like a mustache-twirling foreigner.

  “Nakata, you say that love is like painting a picture on cloth, but I think not. That pays too little credit to the other person.”

  In the pauses between lines, she strained, saying “hnnngh” and “urgggh,” and I wished she would stop.

  Even in the scene where they played Ping-Pong at Sugiko’s house, Tohko acted creepy.

  There were two Ping-Pong scenes, one where Nojima goes to visit Sugiko’s house and they have fun playing, though Sugiko is going easy on him. The other was when her brother and his friends gather at her house for a Ping-Pong tournament, and Sugiko crushes her opponents one after the other, awash in applause, until Omiya takes her down with his merciless play. The two scenes are important for contrasting Nojima and Omiya.

  Since there was no way we could hit a real ball, we decided to just pretend and play a sound effect for the actual show.

  As Tohko waved her paddle around, she laughed boisterously, “Ah-ha-ha-ha!

  “I’m playing Ping-Pong with Sugiko! Sugiko is infinitely better at Ping-Pong than I. But she did nothing to intimidate me. Instead she was kind to me and passed me easy balls that were child’s play for me to return. It was impossible not to sense Sugiko’s character in that.”

  She swung the paddle up high and shouted, “Ha!

  “Where else would I find a woman so innocent, beautiful, and pure, so considerate and so lovely? God is offering this woman to me. How cruel He would be otherwise.”

  Tohko’s spirited performance was drawing Kotobuki as Sugiko out a little.

  “You’re quite good, Mister Nojima.”

  This turn-of-the-century story of adolescence flush with romance became a comedy every time Tohko opened her mouth. The famous scenes I had worked so hard on were like skits for a variety show, and I was incredibly nervous about the live performance.

  When it was break time, Kotobuki removed the lid of a pink lunch box and held it out for Tohko, fidgeting all the while.

  “Um—I baked some cookies. Help yourselves.”

  Paper napkins with a cute flower pattern were spread out inside the lunch box, which was stuffed with adorable cookies topped with things like almonds or blueberry jam.

  “Whoa! You made these, Nanase? That’s amazing! They’re great!”

  “Thanks, Nanase. Let’s all try one.”

  Tohko couldn’t taste anything but words. She’d told me before that food had no flavor, like if you or I were to eat paper. Wasn’t this gross for her?

  I watched, panicked, as she reached straight into the box, grabbed a round cookie topped with an almond, and put it into her mouth.

  A bright smile spread over Tohko’s face as she chewed.

  “Yummm! The fragrance of the almond and the vanilla aroma melt together exquisitely in my mouth to produce an airy harmony.”

  “Oh, don’t exaggerate, Tohko!”

  Kotobuki turned red as a flame.

  “But it really is delicious, Nanase! It’s a restrained sweetness, so even boys would be totally okay eating these.”

  Takeda beamed as she ate her cookie, too. Kotobuki’s cheeks burned even brighter at that, and her voice squeaked when she next spoke, stealing a glance at me.

  “I—I’m on a diet. Right now. So I thought I’d try reducing the sugar. That’s all.”

  Until then, all my attention had been on Tohko.

  “Oh, let me get one.”

  I hurriedly grabbed a leaf-shaped cookie and took a bite. There was a firm, homemade texture, but at the same time an unexpectedly tart taste spread over my tongue. Was this lemon?

  “Yeah, they’re really good, Kotobuki,” I said.

  Kotobuki looked away, stumbling over her words. “O-oh? I wasn’t thinking about what you’d like when I made them, obviously.”

  Tohko gobbled up cookie after cookie, chattering like a bird.

  “This one’s blueberry, isn’t it? The jam makes a great accent! I can feel the sweet jam melting over my tongue! Hmm, what’s this brown one?”

  “Cocoa and nuts.”

  “Oh! Cocoa! This is cocoa, of course! There’s a tiny hint of bitterness, but then the crisp sweetness of the nuts joins in. It’s incredible.”

  “You sound like a pastry critic, Tohko!”

  “Oh yes, I love sweet things!”

  Tohko was chucking so many cookies into her mouth and describing her impressions of each one so that I was hanging in suspense.

  She was better off stopping while she was still ahead. She was going to slip up if she got too carried away. And besides, could her stomach take being crammed with all that tasteless stuff? If we ate paper, there was no question it would mess up our stomachs. Wouldn’t the opposite be true for Tohko?

  “Oh, man, these leaf-shaped cookies are so sweet! Yum!”

  “What? It’s sweet?” Kotobuki got a strange look on her face. “That’s a lemon cookie. It’s pretty tart.”

  Uh-oh—you blew it.

  Tohko made a quick excuse. “Oh—oh no, you’re right. Looks like that was the only part that was sweet. Yeah, it’s tart, but ever so slightly sweet, like youth.”

  Somehow or other, she seemed to have recovered, and I relaxed.

  Just then, I noticed Akutagawa looking down into the box of cookies with a critical eye.

  His expression was pained, as if he saw something he didn’t want to see.

  A chill ran through my heart.

  “Is something wrong, Akutagawa?”

  My question seemed to hit him physically, then a complicated smile came over his face. “No, it’s nothing.”

  He took a cocoa-flavored cookie and ate it.

  “I’m not a big fan of sweet things, but even I can eat these. They taste good,” he said.

  Was that dark look he’d had just now because he didn’t like sweet things? I didn’t think that was all it was, and something stirred deep inside me.

  Akutagawa reached for another cookie. When he’d eaten the next one, he got another—he continued eating steadily with a detached look
on his face. That stirred up even more anxiety in me. It seemed like he was forcing himself to eat something he didn’t want to eat.

  On the other hand, Tohko popped cookies into her mouth with a sunny smile.

  Akutagawa and Tohko—did either of them really enjoy what they were eating?

  Tohko’s tongue at least wasn’t detecting anything, no matter how sweet it was. She wasn’t capable of tasting.

  When Tohko reached for the very last leaf-shaped lemon cookie, I shot my hand out and grabbed her arm.

  “You’ve had a lot, Tohko. I want this one.”

  Tohko’s eyes widened.

  I picked up the last cookie and put it in my mouth.

  Akutagawa and Takeda looked at me with surprise on their faces.

  Kotobuki gaped at me, her face bright red, as I gulped down the cookie.

  Silence filled the stage.

  “Uh—um, because… because these cookies are really good!” I offered quickly in my defense when I realized how that had looked. Kotobuki rolled her eyes.

  “D-don’t be stupid. You think it makes me happy to hear you complimenting me?”

  “Ooooh, you’re blushing, Nanase.”

  “Shut it, Takeda.”

  Kotobuki glared at Takeda, her face bright red. Takeda giggled.

  My cheeks were burning, too. Geez, what was I doing?

  “Um—practice! Let’s practice!” someone shouted. But just then, the pocket of Akutagawa’s pants vibrated.

  Akutagawa was startled and looked down at his pocket. He took out his cell phone and looked at the screen, and then his face became even more tense.

  “Sorry. I have to go do something, so I need to leave early.”

  He ducked his head, then slung his bag over his shoulder and left.

  “I wonder what that was about.”

  The three girls looked puzzled. I also wondered who had been on the other end of the line. Could it have been Sarashina?

  But rehearsal quickly started back up, and I had to play Omiya for Akutagawa.

  In the scenes where Omiya and Sugiko shared lines, Kotobuki tripped up several times, and she would complain, her cheeks flushing, “You’re really bad at this, Inoue. This is so hard.”

  That evening, when rehearsals were over, Tohko rushed out, saying she had forgotten to record the cooking segment of some news show or other.

  Takeda also waved and bounded off with a “See you tomorrow, guysss!” leaving Kotobuki and me by ourselves.

  Once I’d packed up my script and notebook, my eyes met Kotobuki’s. She had already finished getting her stuff together and was standing around, looking out of place.

  “Huh? Aren’t you going home, Kotobuki?”

  “Yes,” she snapped, then immediately looked away in embarrassment. “Um… you think I should make more cookies?”

  “Huh?”

  “It looked like you wanted more.”

  “Yeah, they were really good. But doesn’t it take a lot of time? I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”

  “N-not at all. I actually kind of like cooking. Although you probably think I don’t look like the type who would. Plus Tohko seemed to like them.”

  “Yes, well…”

  See, Tohko? This is what happens when you gobble up cookies you can’t taste and pretend that they’re delicious. Geez, now what? Maybe I’d make Tohko eat all the cookies she couldn’t taste. It would only be what she deserved. Or…?

  I was still thinking it over when Kotobuki’s face turned suddenly indifferent.

  “So it was just flattery after all.”

  “Wha—no!”

  “That’s the kind of guy you are, Inoue. You’ll be nice and smiley for anyone, but deep inside they have no idea what you’re thinking.”

  I felt a chill, as if I’d been stabbed in the chest with an icicle.

  “Never mind. Jerk.”

  Kotobuki slung her bag (from which dangled a pink rabbit doll) over her shoulder, bit down hard on her lip, and hastily left the room.

  I’d made her mad… again. Why did things always go that way with her?

  The word jerk played on a loop in my mind, putting me into a sullen mood, when I heard a sigh.

  “Poor Nanase. I didn’t think you were that dense, Konoha.”

  Takeda stuck her head inside the door, and I thought my heart was going to stop. I thought she’d already left.

  She walked toward me, her face a carefree mask.

  “I forgot something, but things were looking pretty promising and I didn’t want to interrupt, so I stayed outside.”

  “You mean you spied on us.”

  “Or you could call it that.”

  She grinned toothily, then bent over the seats and picked up a binder she’d left there.

  “Nanase is pretty straightforward. Really, she puts up such a huge front it ticks me off and makes me want to tease her, but I wonder how come you can’t see it. Didn’t you see the pink rabbit on her bag?”

  I cocked my head to one side.

  “I saw the rabbit, but so what? Oh—you don’t think Kotobuki likes Akutagawa, do you?”

  Kotobuki had seemed pretty concerned about Tohko and him, so I thought it might be possible. But Takeda’s shoulders slumped magnificently and she sighed.

  “This is what I mean. This is why Nanase calls you a jerk. Whatever. Just act all flustered later. You’re cute when you do that.”

  “Wait, what? Can you be a little clearer?”

  “Nope. It’s a secret.”

  Takeda hugged the binder to her chest and giggled. There was a white angel’s wing stretching across the dandelion-colored plastic.

  I gasped. “That binder!”

  “Heh-heh, cute isn’t it? I bought it when the three of us went to that store. It’s called the angel series, and it’s really popular with girls. They had pink and sky blue and green ones, too. Nanase bought a green notebook from the same series. We match.”

  I recognized it.

  Miu had liked the series, too, and had sky blue notebooks and binders from it.

  The past teased at my insides like black waves.

  My throat tightened and it was getting harder to breathe; I struggled to drive the memory of Miu’s face from my mind.

  Somehow I forced out a few words without revealing my distress.

  “Well, I’m glad you had fun. You’ve changed, Takeda. You’re more exuberant than you used to be.”

  Takeda’s mask seemed to slip away, and her face emptied as a smile pulled at her lips.

  “I’m not having fun.”

  She looked at me with such a rational gaze that she seemed to be an entirely different person. The air suddenly grew cold.

  “Not even a little bit. I’m only pretending to, because I don’t want to destroy the mood.”

  Her voice was distant.

  The girl standing before me was not the Chia Takeda who was so innocently puppylike, but another, lonelier Takeda who couldn’t understand people’s emotions.

  I froze, speechless, and her childlike expression returned. She gave me an adorable smile.

  “It doesn’t take anything special to hide what you really think and put on an act. Everyone does it. And it’s not so terrible being with you and Tohko.”

  I felt like there was something caught in my throat, but I forced out a smile, too.

  “I see. I’m glad, then.”

  A smile that wasn’t a lie, but a smile that wasn’t true, either.

  Takeda and I needed smiles like that. In order to avoid disrupting the climate between us. In order to maintain the outward appearance of peace.

  “Let’s go, Konoha!”

  “Yeah.”

  I slung my bag over my shoulder and turned out the lights, then left the darkened auditorium. We kept the same pace as we walked, Takeda talking gleefully about things that had happened in class or about her close friends.

  I pretended not to know her secret and answered her with smiles.

  Only my heart was as cold
and heavy as lead.

  But maybe everyone was like that.

  Not just Takeda, but Akutagawa, Kotobuki, Tohko… Maybe they were all just pretending to be happy, but they weren’t really inside. Maybe nobody spoke the truth and hid it away in order to maintain their precarious balance in society or at school.

  Jerk— the sound of it echoed in my ear, and I felt an ache brush over my heart.

  Smiling at everyone, being pleasant, not getting too close, not withdrawing too much, keeping just the right distance—I had been like that for a long time, because I couldn’t bear to lose something important again. Because I hated the thought of hurting anyone or of being hurt.

  Now, my days went by placidly. I didn’t want to lose these peaceful, conventional hours that were nonetheless tepidly heartrending.

  So Takeda and I were both likely to go on telling lies.

  Outside, the sky was dyed scarlet. It looked like the end of the world.

  As we passed by the side of the school building, Takeda suddenly tugged on my sleeve.

  “Isn’t that Akutagawa?”

  Three slender shadows were cast on the wall behind the school.

  The shadows danced about, washed in the deep red sunlight. One swung its arm up, and the other two drew together, seeming to tremble.

  I saw Akutagawa and Sarashina… and a boy, a student I didn’t recognize, all talking together very seriously.

  Sarashina was shaking, on the verge of tears. Akutagawa stood as if to shield her, and the well-built boy glared at him murderously. He seemed to be yelling at Akutagawa fiercely. Akutagawa’s brow was knit with distress as he watched the other boy. Every once in a while, his tightly shut lips would move slightly.

  “It looks like it’s gonna get violent,” Takeda breathed, and at that same moment, the other boy threw a fist into Akutagawa’s stomach.

  Akutagawa doubled over and staggered on his feet.

  Both of Sarashina’s hands flew to her mouth, and she let out a frail scream.

  Takeda and I both sucked in a breath, as well.