Even if someone told me, I’d have a hard time buying into it right then and there.

So you don’t think it’s true?

What about you? Do you?

I can’t say for sure.

See? Besides, there weren’t really any “accidents” last year and the year before that, so…

Apparently, the year before we started school here was an “on year.” They say all sorts of disturbing incidents took place. And a lot of people…

Died. They died.

When you put it like that, it sure sounds scary.

Sure does. But…

But?

But I just can’t get myself to take it too seriously, all that talk about how there’s really a “curse” or whatever.

I see how you feel, but…

You didn’t get the impression that even the outgoing students weren’t entirely convinced?

Is that how they seemed?

Yeah, to me, I guess…

Hmm.

Doesn’t the whole story about such-and-such happened to Misaki from twenty-nine years ago sound kind of fishy anyway?

Mm…it kinda does.

Like some sort of game the graduates have kept going to frighten the incoming class.

Mm-hmm. I mean, it would be great if that was all it was.

There’s another meeting at the end of this month, huh?

Yeah. They said it was a “strategy session” or something.

Man, what a pain.

There are some people who take it pretty seriously.

Guess it would be bad if we played hooky.

I heard the homeroom teacher will be there, too.

I think I remember hearing that.

Ugh, guess there’s no getting out of it.

Last year and the one before that—the 1999 and 2000 school years—were fortunately “off years.” As the century draws to a close, we hope there is a chance that the phenomenon is also finished. It’s possible that this year, nothing will happen, either. That’s what some of us believe, at least…

…and yet, we have no proof it’s going to let up.

If it is still active, and this year—the 2001 school year—happens to be an “on year,” we must be prepared. We’ll need to set up countermeasures like last time. That is why I have asked all of you, who will be joining Grade 3 Class 3 this April, to gather here today.

There are two important things that we need to discuss.

The first is the selection of our “countermeasures officers.”

The second thing is determining who shall bear the burden of playing the “non-exister,” which is essential for the success of our contingency plans in the event that this is an “on year.” We have to settle that.

Apparently, people used a variety of different methods to select both the countermeasures officers and the “non-exister” in the past. But this year, we’ve set up this meeting to hear as much input from you all as possible on how things should play out…

…………

…………

…………

…Well then, let’s begin, shall we?

As I’ve just explained, if we see any signs that this year is an “on year” once the new semester starts, then at that time, we—

—Excuse me, teacher.

Yes? What is it?

What?

I mean, is that really the only countermeasure we need to take?

What do you mean?

Um, well, the thing is, according to what I heard, three years ago—in 1998, when it was an “on year”…

…………

…………

…………

…So I was thinking, this year, wouldn’t it be better to set things up like that from the beginning? Wouldn’t that be safer?

I see… Well, obviously, the best outcome would be for this year to also be an “off year.” But we should do everything we can regardless…

Your proposal is worth considering. What do you think, everyone?

The first thing I did was open up my large sports bag, the last piece of luggage I’d carried over that day. From it, I pulled out a black-painted wooden box that was wrapped in a bath towel. I opened the lid and quietly checked its contents.

Inside was a single doll.

A beautiful girl wearing a black dress. She was about forty centimeters tall and belonged to the category known as “ball-jointed dolls.” Among all my possessions, she was perhaps the most precious.

For the time being, I stored her box in a corner of a bookshelf that didn’t yet hold any books, and then—

I wandered out onto the veranda.

The cool evening air of early April was still chilly against my cheek, and my breath came out white.

There were only a few lonely stars in the sky. I was sure there was supposed to be a full moon that night, but it was obscured by clouds, so I couldn’t see it.

Placing both my hands on the railing, I straightened my back. Then, taking quiet, rhythmic breaths, I looked out over the landscape.

It was a little past eight o’clock, and darkness had already descended over most of the town.

In the foreground was the Yomiyama River, flowing downstream. Here and there, I could make out clusters of streetlights. Those gaudy, shimmering globs illuminated the other bank of the river.

That must be the shopping district in the Akatsuki neighborhood.

It had been two years and seven months since I’d returned here. This small village among the mountains—Yomiyama.

I’ve been told that I was born in the maternity hospital here in town. I’d lived here in Yomiyama City for less than a year. After that, my family moved to a seaside town called Hinami, where we stayed until the summer of my sixth grade in elementary school.

…However—

I turned away from the Yomiyama night stretching out before me and looked down at my feet. Without meaning to, I let out a long sigh, then tightly shut my eyes.

But starting tomorrow—

Depending on the situation, I…

My eyelids still squeezed tightly shut, I sighed again, this time deliberately trying to release the tension, when—

I heard a hollow electronic tone ringing inside the apartment.

Oh, my phone?

2

Could it be a call from her? I thought, picking up my chrome-plated cell phone. My heart started to beat a little faster.

Unfortunately, my hopes were immediately dashed. An unregistered number was on the display.

“Heya, Sou? It’s me, Yagisawa. My cell phone’s busted, so I’m calling from my landline.”

Nobuyuki Yagisawa.

He was my classmate—we went to the same middle school, Yomiyama North Middle School (North Yomi for short). For the past two years, we’d been in the same class, and now we knew we would be in Class 3 together for our third year as well. Yagisawa and I had a certain something in common, and ever since identifying it not long after we met, we had maintained a pretty special friendship.

“What’s up?” I asked, reminding myself that calls from her were few and far between anyway… “Something must be going on if you’re bothering to call from your house phone.”

“Nothing’s really up—just…aren’t you anxious? I mean, tomorrow we finally start the spring semester.”

“Hmm. You scared?”

“You’ve always said that, haven’t you?”

“I’m an optimist at heart,” Yagisawa replied.

“Well, you don’t need to be afraid for me, then, do you?”

“Come on now—I wanna hear you say you’re glad to have your best pal by your side!”

Despite his claims to the contrary, I could hear the fear welling up in his voice. I tried to tell myself that I was probably just reading too much into things.

“When I think about what could happen,” Yagisawa continued, “I worry that you must be under some awful pressure right about now.”

“Oh? Well, you don’t need to be,” I responded in the calmest tone of voice I could muster. “I’m telling you, I’m fine. I’m not having a hard time at all.”

“…………”

“Anyway, we’ll have to see how things are tomorrow. Optimism is good, but…you know all about it, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re okay with the worst-case scenario? You know we can’t back out halfway through.”

After a brief pause, the voice on the other end answered, “Y-yeah.” He sounded a touch overwhelmed.

“All right, bye,” I said and hung up the phone.

About an hour later, I got another call. This one was from Mrs. Akazawa.

“Ah, Sou? I forgot to tell you—make sure you come down to our place for breakfast tomorrow. You mustn’t oversleep and skip it, you know.”

That seemed to be her main reason for ringing me up. I answered with an obedient, “Yes, ma’am.”

“And make sure to bring your laundry to me every day. You’ve got your own bath in the apartment, so you can use that whenever you please.”

It seemed like all sorts of things were weighing on her in spite of having just said good night not two hours earlier.

“I’m all right. I’ll be fifteen this autumn, you know.” I answered her just as seriously.

“Feel free to ask for help if you’re having trouble with anything…okay? You can always talk to us. If it’s urgent, you can ask Mayuko. She lives right above you.”

“Sure. Thank you, Auntie.”

Ever since three years ago—since they’d started looking after me in September of 1998—the Akazawas had been really good to me. They’d done their best to treat me kindly despite my…complicated situation.

Of course, I felt very grateful to them. But the truth was, their concern and kindness could feel constricting at times.

“All right then. Good night, Sou.”

“Good night.”

“Sou” was the name that my actual parents gave me. My surname was “Hiratsuka” at the moment, but I would probably replace it sooner or later.

I was thinking of changing it to “Akazawa.” It seemed like a real possibility, but I hadn’t settled on it just yet.

3

My personal relationships were a bit complicated, but basically—

The Akazawa family, who had been taking care of me in Yomiyama, used to be major landowners in the Tobii neighborhood long ago. The patriarch of the previous generation (though he was still alive) was a man named Hiromune Akazawa, who had three sons. The oldest was Haruhiko, the middle was Natsuhiko, and the youngest was Fuyuhiko. The person who I referred to as “Mr. Akazawa” was his oldest son, Haruhiko, and “Mrs. Akazawa” was his wife, a woman named Sayuri.

The Akazawa household had taken me into their custody two years and seven months back. I was no longer welcome in my previous home in Hinami, the Hiratsuka house…they’d driven me out.

Just a minute’s walk from the Akazawa family house stood the Freuden Tobii. The Freuden was an apartment building under the management of Natsuhiko, the middle brother. Details aside, the important thing to know was that he’d allowed me to live in one of the apartments there since the start of April.

During our phone call, Mrs. Akazawa (aka Sayuri) had mentioned someone named “Mayuko” living above me, which referred to Natsuhiko Akazawa’s wife. They occupied the penthouse. I thought of them as “Mr. and Mrs. Akazawa” as well, though calling them that could make things confusing.

For me, the important thing was—

The last of Hiromune Akazawa’s three sons, Fuyuhiko, was none other than my biological father. But he had passed away fourteen years prior, just after I’d been born. I had only found out much later, after starting middle school, that he’d taken his own life out of grief.

4

I opened up most of the other cardboard boxes that I’d used to transport my stuff. By the time I’d finished putting away the bare necessities, it was almost midnight.

Tomorrow was the opening ceremony, so I didn’t have much of anything to put in my school bag. I pulled my uniform and a shirt out of a box and hung them up on hangers. With that, all my immediate preparations were more or less complete.

I was living alone in a studio apartment, but it was only a temporary arrangement.

After taking a shower break, I opened my laptop PC on the living room table and booted it up. I had one purpose in mind. All I wanted to do was check my e-mail, but—

There were two new messages.

The first was from Yomiyama Town News, a free newsletter that was sent out twice a month—largely pointless regional affairs and local notices. I’d discovered it about a year ago and subscribed to its mailing list for some reason.

The other was from Shunsuke Kouda.

We’d been classmates back in our first year of middle school and were also members of the biology club. This April, he would become the club president. Naturally, he was also friends with Yagisawa, who had called me earlier.

The program for the coming year’s club activities comprised the majority of the e-mail’s content. Shunsuke was always a very meticulous kind of guy, so it wasn’t hard to imagine him writing and sending a notice like that. However—

At the very end of the e-mail, there was one line that made me gasp in surprise.

In principle, the special circumstances of Grade 3 Class 3 were supposed to be kept a secret from outsiders. Nevertheless, it seemed like Shunsuke had heard something about it. Although to be honest, it would have been more surprising if he hadn’t heard anything at all…

I looked over this second e-mail, then picked up my cell phone, which was sitting beside my PC. Other than the phone call from Mrs. Akazawa—Sayuri, that is—no one else had contacted me.

Letting out a little sigh, I turned my gaze back to the computer screen.

Mei—I wonder when the last time I talked to her was.

Once at the start of this year… No, I had two chances to speak with her.

We’d exchanged a few words over the phone just after New Year’s.

The other time was around the start of February, in person, when I’d visited “Blue Eyes Empty to All, in the Twilight of Yomi,” the doll gallery in the neighborhood of Misaki.

Back when we’d met in February, we talked for a while about the accidents. I was close to starting Grade 3, so I’d asked her if there was any possibility of avoiding them.

Several days after the graduation and school closing ceremonies had ended, when I knew that I was going to be a member of Grade 3 Class 3 in April, I’d worked up the nerve to call her. However, no matter how many times I rang, she never picked up. I even tried going to the gallery in Misaki once in early April, but there had been a CLOSED sign on the door…

I assumed she’d gone on a long vacation with her family or something. Even if that wasn’t it, she would be starting her third year of high school in the spring. She had her own present and future problems to worry about and must have had a lot on her plate…

I’d decided to send her just a single e-mail, a report of sorts.

To tell her that the hunch she’d had way back then was on the mark. That my Grade 3 class was going to be Class 3, like she had surmised.

Of course, I didn’t include a plea for her to do something about it. Even if I was in Class 3, it remained to be seen whether this was going to be an “on year,” after all.

I sighed again and was about to close my PC when it happened.

Suddenly, I heard a slight noise. It was the notification tone for an incoming e-mail.

Reflexively letting out a small “ah!” I gripped the mouse again. Then I turned my attention to the e-mail software display.

The message was untitled. But the sender was…

“Oh!”

I let out another involuntary noise.

Mei Misaki!

I didn’t exactly feel happy when I read her message but rather a kind of meager relief. As I stared at her words on the display, an image of her—of Mei Misaki—appeared in my mind’s eye. But for some reason, I wasn’t seeing her as she had looked when I’d seen her back in February—rather, I’d pictured her as a fifteen-year-old girl, on a summer day three years ago, with her left eye hidden behind an eye patch…

“…I’ll be fine,” I whispered quietly to myself.

I pursed my dry lips and straightened my back up as best I could.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll do everything right.”

5

Since moving to Yomiyama, I would get up every morning at around 6:30 unless I was sick or worn out. I would always set an alarm just in case, but it was rarely necessary.

Although I was an early riser, I wouldn’t immediately get out of bed.

Instead, I’d lay there on my back, staring at the ceiling for several minutes while checking my breathing, my body temperature, my heartbeat. As I lay there, I’d focus my consciousness on the undeniable fact that I was alive right then.

I’m sure that it’s because of what happened to me three years ago, an aftershock of that bizarre experience. Even in a new location, this process that I went through between waking and rising remained the same as ever.

“All right,” I muttered to myself, nodding and sitting up.

In the year 2001 of the Western calendar, April the 9th, that was a fact.

Mm, okay.

I got dressed, left my apartment, and locked the door behind me.

Beside the entrance was a small plate on the wall that displayed the room number, <E-9>, beneath which was a metal frame for inserting a nameplate. I wasn’t really sure what I should write there, so for the time being, I’d left it empty. My mailbox in the entrance of the building was the same.

Yesterday, Sayuri had apparently gone to speak to the tenants in the two apartments on either side of me so that they wouldn’t think me suspicious. I rarely got any mail, and even if something was to come for me, it would go to the Akazawas’ house like it always had, so that wouldn’t be a problem.

In this apartment building, the first-level rooms were all As, the second-level rooms were all Bs, and so on… The letters indicated the floor. Most of the other apartments on E, the fifth floor, had nameplates; unlike <E-9>, most were configured for families.

As I headed down the deserted early-morning hallway toward the elevators, I happened to glance over at unit <E-1> across the hall. Like my own apartment, <E-9>, it also lacked a nameplate beside the door…

…This place.

Suspicion flickered through my mind.

Here?

This apartment…

In that moment, just for an instant, the whole world went black.

There came a low, reverberating thumping just beyond my hearing—I felt it rather than heard it.

It was like…this is a weird metaphor, but it was like someone standing outside of this world had just clicked a camera shutter to capture the scene. Or maybe as though someone had fired off a strobe light. Regardless, it was a bizarre thought, one that left me just as quickly as it had arrived.

The suspicion that had flickered across my mind a moment earlier was already evaporating.

“Mm. All right, then.”

Nodding, I reshouldered my bag, then pushed the elevator call button.

6:50. Still plenty of time before school starts.

6

After stopping by the Akazawa house and eating my fill of breakfast, I still had plenty of extra time before I needed to report for school.

“All right, I’m going.”

Nevertheless, in my most indifferent voice, I announced my departure to Mrs. Akazawa and left the house. Kurosuke (a black tomcat, estimated to be about eight years old, who had been in the care of this household for longer than I had) walked as far as the gate with me, meowing the whole way.

He’s seeing me off… No, that can’t be it.

I almost never went straight from the house to school. A direct course took me only fifteen minutes even if I was dragging it out, so as long as the weather wasn’t awful, I liked to take a kind of detour and stroll down the Yomiyama River floodplain. I enjoyed the time alone. I’d started doing this on a whim one morning last summer, and, well, it had become almost like a routine—

The flow of the Yomiyama River was very calm that morning. Perhaps because we hadn’t had any heavy rain for a while, the water level was so low, it seemed like I could cross the river on foot.

Although the sky was slightly overcast, it wasn’t too cold out. My outfit, a student uniform with long sleeves and a stand-up collar, was just perfect. But when a cold wind blew past me from time to time, I would reflexively hunch my shoulders against the chill.

I gazed over at the opposite side of the river and saw a row of beautiful cherry trees stretching down the bank. They were just past full bloom. Before long, the petals would start scattering in the wind, which would be even more impressive.

I put my thumbs and index fingers together to form a rectangular frame, then peered through it at the scenery. I imagined the click of a shutter. I really would have liked to snap a picture if I’d had a camera on me, but as it was, I was content to capture the image with the one in my mind.

Kweeh!

I heard the call of an animal.

Shifting my gaze, I watched the owner of the voice alight on a little island that had formed upstream. It was an unexpectedly large bird.

White feathers, a long neck, and long legs…a heron?

That was my first thought, but no, it was different from the white herons I sometimes spotted along the bank. This bird was larger, and on closer inspection, its feathers were more of a bluish-gray than white. A black band stretched from its forehead around to the back of its head, and its wings were spotted with black speckles here and there… Still a heron, but a blue heron maybe?

It was the first of its kind that I’d seen here.

I unconsciously stood up from the bench, and as I lined the heron up in my imaginary viewfinder, an idle thought struck me.

Someday…I’d like to get myself a genuine single-lens reflex camera and travel to all sorts of places, taking all sorts of photos. That’s always been in the back of my mind, for sure. Like Teruya…

Teruya Sakaki, my uncle on my mother’s side, who’d died three years ago.

When I’d first started middle school in Yomiyama, the Akazawas had advised me to join an after-school club…and despite his influence, I’d chosen the biology club over the photography club.

“…It’s not time yet.”

My vision could wait a bit, at the very least. I wasn’t at that stage of my life yet.

There were things I had to do first. There were challenges I had to overcome.

I sat back down on the bench and closed my eyes softly.

The sound of the flowing water, the feeling of the wind brushing my skin… It felt somehow unreal. When the bird called out again, it, too, seemed distant.

I kept my eyes closed like that for a little while. When my mind grew calm, I left the bench behind.

The blue heron was no longer anywhere to be found; in its place, a group of smaller white birds was flocking close to the river’s surface.

Before long, a pedestrian bridge called the Izana Bridge came into view. It was an old structure, just wide enough for two people to squeeze past each other, and the wooden support pillars and handrails looked kind of suspect. I got close enough to get a good look, then went back to the path along the riverside.

“Hiratsuka?”

Someone was calling out for me.

“Hiratsukaaa!”

The voice was coming from about ten meters behind me on the same path along the river. I could make out someone waving at me.

Is that…?

It was a girl wearing the North Yomi uniform. Her long hair fluttered behind her as she jogged over to catch up with me.

It is…

Hazumi—Yuika Hazumi.

I remembered being in the same class with her when we were in Grade 1. We were in different classes in our second year, but this year we were going to be in Class 3 together. We’d hardly ever had a real conversation, but I knew her name and face well enough to recognize her, of course.

Why is she here right now?

I thought her presence was a little fishy, but…well, it wasn’t a question I wanted to waste time answering.

“Ah!” Hazumi caught up with me, making flustered noises. “Wait for me, Hiratsuka!”

I stopped when she bade me to wait. I mean, it wasn’t like I was going to make a break for it.

Hazumi reached me before long. The boys in her class had propped her up as a “beauty” ever since Grade 1. Whether I agreed with their assessment or not, I couldn’t deny that she had delicate, handsome features. She possessed a fairly mature presence for her age.

She was about the same height as I was, average for a guy my age. Her chest-length hair had a brownish tint, but I couldn’t tell whether it had always been that way or if she’d dyed it.

“I’m talking to you, Hiratsuka!” Yuika Hazumi exclaimed, staring at me anxiously. “Why? Why did you keep on walking even after I called your name?”

Her words seemed somehow childlike, at odds with her typically grown-up demeanor. When I didn’t respond, she tilted her head slightly and asked again, in an immature manner, “Hey, why are you ignoring me? I heard that you walk along the dry riverbed every morning super early.”

Hmm? Is that true? She went to the trouble of finding out when I come here and followed me?

“Hey, Hiratsuka…”

“It’s just a habit,” I answered as indifferently as possible, without looking at her.

“Nothing is set in stone yet, but when we go to school today, if…?”

“If…?” I mumbled the word back at her.

“Ummm, I mean…” She paused for a second or two. “…If there aren’t enough desks and chairs in the classroom?”

“That’s right. At that point”—I turned to look at her—“we’ll know, won’t we?”

“And you came all the way out here to say it?”

“I did.” Her cheeks were slightly red. She was probably flushed from running to catch up with me.

“That’s… Well, I appreciate you making the effort,” I replied.

“In either case, we’ll find out soon, but if it happens, I just wanna say thanks in advance.”

That was all the conversation I wanted to have with Hazumi at that moment. She seemed to have more she wanted to say, but it would have felt awkward to walk to school together or something, so—

“Well, see you around,” I announced before turning to continue my trip down to the riverbank.

“Later,” she replied.

Before I walked off, I paused to add one more thing. “Oh, and Hazumi? If you don’t mind, from now on, would you please call me Sou? I don’t really like being called by my last name.”

7

I arrived at school at 8:45.

The opening ceremony was scheduled to start at nine.

There was a bulletin board hanging beside the entrance to Building A, the central edifice that housed the principal’s office and all the staff rooms, where the class rosters for the new semester were posted. Printouts with all the class lists for each year were also being distributed. The staff had already conveyed the information about Grade 3 Class 3 to anyone it affected, but just in case, I checked to confirm that my name was indeed listed there. Then I headed for the gymnasium, where the ceremony was being held.

I didn’t make eye contact and obviously didn’t speak to anyone… Instead, I stood in the back of our row, mostly letting my mind drift away from the teachers making speeches up onstage, passing the time allotted for the ceremony in a daze. I was there in body, but not in spirit.

Once the opening ceremony was over, all the students headed for their classrooms. Grade 3 Class 3 was on the third floor of Building C.

By the time I stepped foot into the room, more than half of the other students were already inside. However, there was none of the usual racket that you would expect in such a situation, just a few small groups whispering to one another. Everyone else was silent…

Nothing was written on the blackboard. Even though it was the start of the new semester, one of the fluorescent lights in the ceiling was already flickering and failing… Beneath the erratic illumination, the orderly lines of desks and chairs seemed somehow ominous.

No one made a move to sit. No one set their bags down on the desks, either.

“Let’s take our seats for now, everyone,” called out one of the girls.

She was articulate, with a crisp, sharp voice…

Could it be? Who does that voice belong to?

—Thud.

My heart gave a low reverberation, and the world went pitch-black for a split second. Then I remembered. She was one of the students who had been selected as a “countermeasures officer” at the “strategy session” in March…

“Sit in cardinal order according to what’s written on the printout… Actually, you know what? Close is good enough, so let’s all just take a seat somewhere, please.”

At her urging, a few of the students obediently started to move. The reaction from most of them, however, was to uneasily tilt their heads and stare at one another.

Ignoring them all, I took up a position near the back of the classroom, beside the door.

Just in case it happens…

That’s right. It would be dangerous for me to sit down with everyone else so soon.

At the moment, it wasn’t yet clear whether I would need to conduct myself with that level of caution. It hadn’t been established whether such strict rules were in place. But…

I’d made up my mind to take every precaution.

Eventually, our teacher arrived.

By that time, fewer than half of the students had taken their seats.

“Good morning, everyone,” greeted our homeroom teacher, Ms. Kanbayashi. (Female. Approximately age forty. Main subject was science. Probably single.) She placed both hands on the lectern as she addressed us. “Well done making it through the opening ceremony. I’m sure you’ve all been feeling…apprehensive.”

The tension in the room was palpable. It was perhaps even greater now than it had been when we’d met in March.

And it wasn’t just us students. Naturally, our instructor was also anxious. Maybe even so strained that she wanted to make a break for it.

Pushing the bridge of her delicate metal-frame glasses back up her face with one finger, Ms. Kanbayashi surveyed her silent pupils.

“Anyway, all right, everyone, please have a seat. You can sit wherever you like.”

She gave the same instructions as the countermeasures officer girl. The students who had been hesitating to sit down did as they were told. Only I refrained from moving, opting to remain standing near the door in the back of the room. I’d intended to stay that way until the end, and of course, my teacher grasped that as well.

And then the situation quickly became clear—once everyone except for me was seated.

“Ah…”

A quiet, trembling noise fell from Ms. Kanbayashi’s lips as she stood at her podium. In response, many of the students made similar sounds…expressing a variety of emotions.

Yuika Hazumi was sitting behind the very last desk in the row closest to the windows. While everyone else stared straight ahead, pointedly avoiding looking in my direction, she alone turned my way.

I nodded silently at her.

Next, I looked toward Ms. Kanbayashi at the podium. She noticed my gaze and gave me a small nod while averting her eyes, so I left the classroom without saying anything. I had to fulfill the role that I had taken upon myself. I would be the class “non-exister” this year.

Yagisawa’s optimistic observations had been too hopeful after all. Just because there had been two “off years” in a row didn’t mean that it was over. Just because we had entered the twenty-first century didn’t mean it was over. There would be no end to this.

The peculiar “phenomenon” that had beset this class since the death of Misaki twenty-nine years ago was happening again, twenty-nine years later…and so. Just as I had always suspected, this year—2001—was an “on year.”

8

“Everyone had the best of intentions when they started dealing with it in the wrong way. Misaki’s death, that is.” I recalled the words that Mei Misaki had spoken when we’d met back in February. “Death is death, and they should have come to grips with it. If only they had accepted the truth… But instead…”

That was apparently what had started it all.

The first sign of trouble came in April, when there had been one too few desks in the classroom at the beginning of the new semester. The reason, they say, was because—

“There was an extra student in the class…and nobody knew who.”

I’d known a bit about the “phenomenon” even before I entered middle school. I had heard about it from Uncle Teruya before his passing three years ago.

Still, back in February, when I was about to advance to the third grade at North Yomi, I’d felt the need to confirm everything all over again. That’s why I’d enlisted the aid of the girl who had experienced an “on year” in her own Grade 3 Class 3—Mei Misaki.

“There’s no way to know who the ‘extra person’ is. No matter how you investigate or who you ask…everything related to the class, from the roster to the records that the school and city hall keep, even the memories of people associated with the class…they’re all altered somehow, changed to agree that the new student belongs there.”

Altered records.

Rewritten memories.

“There are ‘on years’ and ‘off years’ for the phenomenon…which means it’s not guaranteed to happen every year. It’s typically happened at least once every two years so far, but it’s unclear whether there’s any kind of regularity to it. Even if you end up in Class 3, there’s no problem if it’s an ‘off year.’ But if it happens to be an ‘on year’—”

“The ‘accidents’ start happening, right?”

“Right. In the years when there’s an ‘extra person,’ the class will suffer a series of unthinkable disasters. Every month, at least one person, up to many ‘related individuals,’ will succumb—they’ll be pulled down into ‘death.’”

I’d asked why having an “extra person” in the class induced these “accidents.”

“Because the true identity of the ‘extra person’ is the ‘casualty,’” Mei had answered.

Her explanation went like this:

“I suspect that the incident with Misaki twenty-nine years ago kicked it all off. Ever since, Grade 3 Class 3 at North Yomi has been somehow close to ‘death.’ I think the class attracts the ‘casualties.’

“One result of the group’s proximity to ‘death’ is that the ‘casualties’ are able to slip in unnoticed. You could also argue that the class gets closer to ‘death’ with each ‘casualty’ that appears.

“Because of that, it becomes easy for everyone connected to Grade 3 Class 3 to die, and ‘death’ swallows them up.”

Formally, the school refused to officially recognize the existence of these strange “phenomena” and aberrant “accidents.” There was probably no way that a public institution like a middle school could openly confront something so unscientific as a “curse.” In the past, however, the administration had discreetly attempted a number of “countermeasures.”

For example, they had tried changing the classrooms around. The thinking was that the “curse” was probably connected to the physical location of Grade 3 Class 3. Tragically, this hunch had ended in failure. The “phenomenon” and “accidents” occurred regardless of where Class 3 was placed.

In another instance, the staff tried renaming the classes from Class 1, Class 2, Class 3, and so on to Class A, Class B, Class C. This, too, had been a failure. The “phenomenon” and “accidents” still struck the students in Grade 3 Class C.

One year, they tried omitting Class 3 altogether and reconfigured the groups as Class 1, Class 2, Class 4, Class 5, and Class 6. But this resulted in tragedy as well. The “phenomenon” simply skipped over the missing Class 3 and afflicted Class 4 in its stead, and the “accidents” started anew…

“To offset the ‘extra person,’ the class designates someone to serve as a ‘non-exister.’ By doing that, the room goes back to the amount of people it should’ve had. The numbers balance out, you see. It’s like the ‘nonexistent’ neutralizes the harmful influence of the ‘extra person,’ who isn’t originally supposed to be there.”

That was how Mei had explained it.

“If all goes well, the ‘accidents’ won’t start up, even during an ‘on year.’ There are actually a number of instances where this ‘countermeasure’ worked out successfully, and no one ended up dying. So ever since that was discovered, every year, Grade 3 Class 3…”

Class 3 started holding the aforementioned “strategy session” at the end of March. The meeting that Ms. Kanbayashi had facilitated—

First, the group elected at least one countermeasures officer. They would be in charge of dealing with any trouble surrounding the “phenomenon.” Next, the class selected a candidate to shoulder the burden of being the “non-exister,” in preparation for the possibility that it was an “on year”…

…The “non-exister.”

Despite being a member of the class, they would be treated as if they didn’t exist.

Their classmates, their homeroom teacher, and the rest of their instructors would ignore the selected individual all year long, as though they weren’t even there. From the start of the first semester, up until graduation next spring.

At the meeting, the staff asked us who would undertake that important duty this year in case the worst came to pass.

If no one volunteered, the class would hold a discussion to decide, and if they still couldn’t reach an agreement, they would draw lots. The specifics of how they determined the “non-exister” differed from year to year, but that was the basic selection process—

“I’ll do it.”

I had raised my hand without hesitation at the meeting.

“I’ll take on the role of the ‘non-exister.’”

“Are you sure?” Ms. Kanbayashi seemed shocked, too. “Is that really okay…?”

“Yes.” I straightened up, aware that everyone was looking at me, and answered, “It’s fine.”

Starting in April, I would carry out my duty as the “non-exister” in our class for a year. If we could avoid any “accidents” by my doing so, then—

—Then in that case, I’m happy to do it. I’ll never flinch or run from what needs doing.

I had made up my mind about this long ago, assuming the situation would arise.

It was no big deal to me. Considering my firsthand experience with “nonexistence” three years prior, I didn’t mind playing the part of the “non-exister” now with everyone’s consent and cooperation.

I can do this—I’d insisted to myself.

I can do this. I’ll do it right. I can handle it.

…But still—

After I volunteered, there had been an unexpected development.

“Excuse me, teacher.”

The person who spoke up was none other than one of the newly selected countermeasures officers, a female student named Etou. Making no attempt to conceal the anxiety and fear in her expression, she threw out a question, eyes shining darkly.

“I just wonder if that’s enough. I mean, is that really the only ‘countermeasure’ we need to take?”

After further discussion, we decided that we would make one major modification to our strategy this school year.

I opened the door, and on the other side of it, naturally, was no one. Just the dreary, filthy concrete roof of a three-story municipal building. The iron railing that wound around the edge was grimy as well, stained reddish-brown with rust.

I walked up to the railing overlooking the athletic fields and did some light stretching.

It was still partly cloudy, as it had been earlier that morning. When I looked up, I saw several ebon birds flying low across the sky.

Crows.

Kaah, kaaaahhh… As I listened to their cries, I recalled something—

Oh yeah…

There was that old superstition.

“If you hear the calling of crows on the roof, make sure to step back inside with your left foot when you reenter the building. If you don’t, you’ll soon meet misfortune.”

It was a rumor that I had heard from somebody not long after starting school here, and there was another one like it.

“Once you start the third grade, be careful not to fall on the road up the hill behind the school’s rear gate. If you do, you’ll flunk your high school entrance exams.”

Of course, I didn’t put any stock in either jinx. They were the sort of thing you heard here and there, the so-called “Seven Mysteries of North Yomi.” More people than I would have expected seemed to take them seriously, but to me, all these alleged mysteries seemed like common ghost stories.

To be honest, I’d already gotten more than my fill of unscientific, occult tales of “ghosts,” “psychic phenomena,” “curses,” and the like three years ago, but—

There was only one exception: namely, the “phenomenon” affecting Grade 3 Class 3, which I was now facing head-on.

There’s no way I can dismiss this as “unscientific” or “occult”…

So then…

Just as I was considering my next move, the cell phone that I carried in the inner pocket of my uniform jacket started vibrating with a call.

“So it was an ‘on year,’ huh?”

The person who abruptly inquired this was none other than Shunsuke Kouda.

“Uh, yeah,” I answered as indifferently as possible. “Word gets around fast.”

“I just heard from Keisuke.”

“Oh.”

Keisuke was the name of his twin and younger brother. And this younger Kouda brother was a member of Grade 3 Class 3 this year.

Any information related to the phenomenon was supposed to have been kept secret from “outsiders,” but I wasn’t surprised that Keisuke had already spilled the beans to Shunsuke.

“What’re you gonna do about club activities?” he asked me.

There was a problem with that. “I told you before, didn’t I?” I responded. “Morishita is in Class 3, too.”

“Ah, right.”

There were three third-years in the biology club. Shunsuke and I were two, and the third was a boy named Morishita.

“Say that he came into the clubroom—I would have to act as the ‘non-exister.’ I wouldn’t be able to say a word to anyone else there.”

“But he’s been, like, a ghost member for half a year. He doesn’t ever show.”

“Guess we’ll have to wait and see for a little while.”

“You think so? —Mm, you’re right.”

At that moment, I could almost see Shunsuke gripping his phone and blinking his small eyes behind his thick wire-rimmed glasses.

“Well anyway, swing by the clubroom sometime soon. There’s some stuff I want to discuss with you.”

“All right, see you soon. I wrote this in my e-mail yesterday, too, but I’m praying for your safety.”

“Thanks.”

We hung up, and as I put my phone back in my pocket, another crow cawed, high up in the sky.

Well then, which foot should I step on when I go back inside? Deliberating over the question, I turned to go.

2

I left the school building, then headed for the back gate, which was on the south side of the sports field. Though I didn’t encounter any of my new classmates from Grade 3 Class 3 on the way, I’d gone a few paces outside the gate when—

“Hiratsuka.”

Someone called my name, and I stopped in my tracks.

I immediately knew who was addressing me, since this was the second time she’d done that today.

That voice—

“Hiratsuka…um, I mean, Sou?”

It was Yuika Hazumi.

She had been standing by herself beside the barrier. She wore a slightly awkward smile and was tilting her head somewhat nervously.

“Ah, hey,” I answered, also rather clumsily.

This should be okay. We’re technically not on school grounds anymore.

With that in mind, I asked, “What’s up? Why are you here?”

At this, Hazumi quickly walked up to me and answered, “I was waiting for you.”

“…For me?”

“You were on the roof just a minute ago, weren’t you?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” I nodded and looked her in the face.

She seemed surprised and cast her eyes down and to the side.

“…So?” I asked again. “What’s up?”

“Well, I wanted to talk some things over with you. I mean, this is my first time dealing with something like this.”

I’m sure that’s true. You’re probably anxious. I could sympathize.

“Here.” Hazumi pulled something out of her bag and held it to me.

It was a single sheet of white paper, folded in half. I took it and opened it up.

“Ah…when did you get this?” I asked, still gazing down at my hands.

“Earlier, in homeroom,” she replied. “The teacher left them on her podium for us to take home with us. So I grabbed one for you, too.”

After I’d left early, Hazumi must have stayed behind until homeroom ended.

“I wonder if that’s all right?” I asked, just to be sure. “No one’s supposed to talk to me or say my name, so what about that?”

“Well, I didn’t do either, so it’s all right.”

Her voice was bright, but she still had her head tilted uneasily.

“But,” she continued, “it sure does feel weird when you get right down to it.”

“I’m sure everyone else thinks the same,” I responded. I took another look at the sheet of paper that I had taken from her.

It was a class roster for Grade 3 Class 3. Teachers always passed out these kinds of documents during homeroom at the start of the semester, but…

Even at a glance, I could see that this year’s roster differed from that of a normal class. It listed students’ full names, addresses, and phone numbers in order of student ID number. But in the middle of the list, there was a row that had been crossed out with double lines, redacted—

“A roster for an ‘on year,’ huh?”

“The school prepared two versions in advance. The ‘on year’ version and the ‘off year’ version.”

Yep, that sounds like Ms. Kanbayashi.

I had taken her science class back when I was a first-year.

To put it kindly, she’s very serious and precise. To put it unkindly, she’s boring and inflexible. But at least that means she’s probably fit to handle being the homeroom teacher for Class 3 during an “on year.”

“Ms. Kanbayashi’s not my favorite,” Hazumi continued, almost as though she was talking to herself. “She seems a little cold. I mean, you can’t tell what she’s feeling.”

“I don’t think she’s a bad person, though. Actually, if she can be dispassionate like that, then I think…”

It’s easier that way.

I can’t really handle people who go through emotional highs and lows, foisting their feelings onto everyone around them. Even if those sentiments happen to be things like enthusiasm and positivity.

I glanced down at the sheet in my hands.

A class roster made for the 2001 school year, Grade 3 Class 3, in an “on year.” The two redacted lines contained my full name, Sou Hiratsuka, along with my address and phone number. Deleting them was reasonable; that way, everyone in class would be sure about the identity of the “non-exister” from today until the graduation ceremony next March. And also—

There is another name on this class roster that has been redacted in the same manner, struck through with double lines—Yuika Hazumi.

3

“I wonder if that’s enough?”

One of the students had raised this question at the “strategy session” last March.

“I mean, is that really the only ‘countermeasure’ we need to take?”

She’d brought up what had transpired three years earlier—during the 1998 school year. Her older cousin had been in Grade 3 Class 3 that year, and Etou had heard the story after the fact.

1998 had been an “on year,” so they’d taken the “countermeasure” of designating a student as the “non-exister.” Due to unforeseen circumstances, however, the strategy hadn’t worked out, and the “accidents” started in full swing. Whereupon they added a new emergency “countermeasure”—namely, they’d tried adding a second “non-exister.”

Nobody could say whether this “additional countermeasure” had actually succeeded or not, because even after designating a second “non-exister,” various “accidents” continued to befall the class, and several more “related individuals” wound up losing their lives. And yet, the “accidents” ceased at the end of summer vacation, even though they’d been expected to continue until March of the following year. Perhaps the “additional countermeasure” of designating two “non-existers” had achieved some kind of effect in the end.

And so—that’s what Etou had proposed during the meeting.

She suggested having two “non-existers” from the beginning of the year.

Previously, the “countermeasure” of a single “non-exister” had been enough to prevent the “accidents,” provided everything went well. By that logic, it followed that implementing double the “countermeasures” would also double the chance that they would succeed.

Even if, for instance, one of the “non-existers” caved under the pressure and abandoned their role partway through the year (something that had apparently happened once before), as long as the second “non-exister” fulfilled their duties, the “accidents” would never start. It was effectively a form of “insurance.”

“I mean, is that really the only ‘countermeasure’ we need to take?”

In short, the real meaning behind Etou’s question was that choosing just one “non-exister” made her anxious, so she wanted the class to try taking additional “countermeasures” right from the beginning of the school year.

A major change would be added to this year’s “countermeasures”—there would be two “non-existers.”

By that point, I had already volunteered to be the “first,” but choosing the “second” hadn’t been so easy… In the end, we decided it via a lottery using playing cards. The class counted out a number of cards equal to the number of students, making sure that one was a joker—the person who drew the wild card would be selected. Everyone, including the previously elected countermeasures officers, was required to participate in the lottery. And so—

The person who’d pulled the card to become the second “non-exister” was…Yuika Hazumi.

4

“You know, if I’m being honest, I still can’t believe this is all happening…”

Hazumi and I chatted as we walked along the path up the hill beyond the back gate.

“Hmm?”

“I mean, I found you this morning to wish you good luck, in case the worst came to pass, but I never thought it would really…”

“Happen?”

“Yeah. But no matter how you slice it…”

“It’s undeniable that there weren’t enough desks and chairs, right?”

“I keep thinking that it must have been some kind of fluke, that there just happened to be too few.”

“No way… If you don’t believe in this stuff, then why did you accept being a ‘non-exister’? It’s certainly not going to be much fun.”

“If you really didn’t want to do it, I think you could have put your foot down during the meeting.”

“That would… I mean…” She left it there.

It wasn’t that I didn’t understand how she felt. Even after the “handover ceremony” and “strategy session” back in March, incredulity and disbelief were probably the most realistic reactions for a normal student. However—

“Are you going to be all right, Hazumi?” I inquired, putting some intensity in my voice. “We’ve got to take this seriously.”

“Huh?”

“This thing with Grade 3 Class 3, it’s not like the rest of the Seven Mysteries or the other legends around town. It’s a real phenomenon that’s been happening at this institution for the past twenty-eight years.”

Hazumi stopped walking and nodded, confusion plain on her face. “Y-yeah.” But then she immediately shook her head slightly and added, “I’ve heard that, but…but how do I say this? Without actually experiencing it myself—”

“If you wait for that, it’ll be too late,” I interrupted, my tone growing strict. “If our ‘countermeasures’ fail, and the ‘accidents’ start occurring…people will die. No, really. A lot of people will die.”

“…………”

“You know, I’ve heard the stories directly from people who actually went through it. So…”

Actually, I’d heard everything from Uncle Teruya, who’d passed away three years ago. Fourteen years earlier—in 1987, he was a member of Grade 3 Class 3 at North Yomi. That year had been an “on year,” and many people had been “dragged into death” due to various “accidents.” Teruya had watched it all happen…

“Capisce?” I stared straight into Hazumi’s eyes and reminded her of the stakes. “We have to take this seriously. This isn’t a game.”

“I understand. And I’ll be all right. Let’s do our best together, Sou.”

5

After that, we continued on, chatting about this and that. It mostly consisted of me answering Hazumi’s questions.

“They say that the ‘extra person’ who is added to our roster is already deceased; is that true?”

“Yeah. Moreover, that dead person, ‘the casualty,’ is apparently one of the ‘related individuals’ who died in a prior ‘accident.’”

“So they’re a ghost? Or a zombie? In that case, it seems like they would be easy to spot.”

Although Hazumi must have heard the answer to this sort of question during the general explanation we’d all received at the “handover ceremony” in March, she didn’t seem to have fully grasped the nuances from just that basic rundown. I had no choice but to go over it again.

“They’re different from a ghost in that they have a physical body and different from a zombie in that they are truly among the living. It’s as though they’ve been resurrected. By all appearances, they’re no different than any other living thing. Even if they were to undergo a health exam…if a curious doctor inspected them, they could never tell the difference. And the ‘casualty’ themselves has absolutely no idea that they’re already deceased.”

“Even their families can’t tell? If a kid who passed a long time ago rose from their grave, you would think they’d notice!”

“You’re right on that front—but apparently, they can’t tell.”

“But there’s so much evidence…”

“It’s because all the records and memories related to that person are somehow altered or modified. Right up until the ‘extra person’ disappears after the graduation ceremony.”

“…………”

“Phenomenon?”

“Uh, yeah, phenomenon. It’s not a ‘curse’ or ‘spell,’ you know. It’s a ‘phenomenon’ nobody’s to blame for—at least that seems to be the accepted theory.”

That piece of information didn’t come from Teruya—I’d only learned it after his death. Shortly after the incident, during summer three years ago, Mei Misaki and one of her classmates from Grade 3, Koichi Sakakibara, had explained this to me.

I’d heard the same thing from Mr. Chibiki, the head of the school’s “secondary library,” who’d concurred with that assessment when I visited him on Mei’s suggestion. Mr. Chibiki, however, preferred to use the label of “supernatural natural phenomenon.”

I was mulling over this sudden recollection when—

We emerged onto the path that led along the Yomiyama River.

The peaceful flow of the water was no different than it had been this morning. Moreover, the chill of the wind was somewhat more temperate than it had been earlier.

“That sheet we were looking at before…” Hazumi pointed at her backpack, which she had hanging from one shoulder. “The class roster already has the name of the ‘casualty’ on it, right?”

“It should,” I replied.

“Hmm.” She pouted slightly. “I still can’t quite wrap my mind around it… Oh, but it’s all right! I’ll do my part to play the role of a ‘non-exister.’”

It sounded like she was trying to put me in a good mood, to reassure me. She followed up with a short sigh.

“Tomorrow morning is the entrance ceremony, right? Second and third grades only have homeroom class, but what will you do, Sou?”

“Stay home.”

“I guess they can’t scold you for it, huh?”

“Ms. Kanbayashi goes without saying, and all the other teachers also know about the situation and are playing along, so…no.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of incredible.”

“Rules?”

“The guidelines for ‘non-existers.’”

“Ah, those!”

Hazumi put up her index finger and tapped it against the middle of her lips.

“Generally speaking, we need to avoid speaking to anyone in our class while we’re at school. That includes Ms. Kanbayashi.”

“That’s right.”

“But it’s okay to talk with students from other classes.”

“Yes.”

All it took to avoid misfortune was for the students of Grade 3 Class 3 to agree on a “non-exister.” This understanding hadn’t changed since the school had first implemented the current set of “countermeasures.”

“What we have to be careful about is courses with teachers other than Ms. Kanbayashi. It’s fine for us to have normal contact with those instructors if we’re away from our classroom, but not when they’re actually teaching. That’s because we’ll be in the same place as our classmates. During that time, all the teachers know that they should, for instance, avoid making us read aloud by calling on the students in seat order.”

“So they aren’t allowed to address the ‘non-existers’ during instruction, right?” Hazumi asked.

“That’s exactly it.”

As far as I knew, the teachers had their own set of rules to follow, which differed from the guidelines that had been passed down to the students over the years.

“And we have to sit out during gym?”

“Well, we obviously can’t participate in group sports like baseball or soccer. And sitting out would be preferable even for solo sports like running and swimming.”

“Good thing I hate PE.”

“Um…so that brings us to the next question. We can talk to other people in Class 3 once we leave the school grounds, right?”

“Honestly, I’ve heard some people say that we shouldn’t ever speak to them, even outside of school, but apparently, the current rules allow it.”

“It would be way too hard to keep that up all the time.”

“The thing is—”

I hedged my last statement.

“—even if you’re off campus, the ‘non-existers’ need to stay ‘non-existers’ during school events, like field trips or class outings. Making the right call in those situations can be tricky, so I think it’s safer just to avoid any contact with Class 3 whenever possible, even outside of school. Especially on the way to and from campus. It pays to be cautious then.”

“Seems like it’ll be rough with all these things to keep in mind.”

“Sure will… Ah, but becoming a ‘non-exister’ is totally different than being bullied and ignored in class, you know. Don’t forget that, okay?”

“—Mm.”

Hazumi nodded and gave another short sigh. Then she asked me something.

“Sou, why did you put your hand straight up during the ‘strategy session’ in March?”

“Oh, back then…”

I mulled it over for a second, then gave her a harmless, ineffectual answer.

“Well, it was because I thought I would be suited for the job.”

“What made you think that?”

I tried to change the subject without addressing her follow-up question. “Since you’re becoming a ‘non-exister,’ you’ll have to deliberately act like no one else can see you. In a way, it’s almost like becoming a ghost. Can you handle that?”

“One more thing. This isn’t limited just to us ‘non-existers,’ but we’re supposed to keep the special circumstances of Grade 3 Class 3 a secret from outsiders. Even with family—you can’t be irresponsible and confide in them.”

“Sure. The teachers told us that at the meeting in March.”

“They said that revealing too much invites disaster, right? It sounds like it’s not totally prohibited, but I’m sure it’s smart to follow the guidelines as best we can.”

Hazumi said she understood, but I actually thought that we probably didn’t need to be too concerned about this stipulation. Mei had said as much, too. She’d dismissed it as one of those bits of “common knowledge” that develop out of an overabundance of caution.

“Come to think of it, are you in any clubs?” I asked Hazumi, suddenly concerned.

“Not right now.” She shook her head slightly. “But I was in the drama club until last year. I’ve already quit, though.”

In that case, I don’t need to worry. There’s no chance she’ll slip up and interact with a classmate during club activities.

Around that time, the Izana Bridge, the pedestrian bridge I had crossed that morning, came into view ahead—

“Oh, I almost forgot—” I realized I had forgotten to tell her something.

I guess we’d better talk it over now.

“Listen, Hazumi, there’s one more thing…”

The moment I spoke up, however, she started making a statement of her own.

“You know, Sou, you…”

We both shut our mouths at once, locked in a kind of stalemate. The flock of birds that had settled on the river’s surface flew off together, as if startled by something. As their movement caught my attention, Hazumi seized the moment and kept talking.

“Um, so, about your address that was on the class roster I gave you earlier…”

I immediately guessed what she wanted to bring up.

“There was a Tobii address written for you, and after that it said ‘care of the Akazawas,’ right? Um, is that the same Akazawa family that, well…”

“My address has been the same ever since first grade. You just noticed today?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You want to know why I’m in the ‘care of the Akazawas’?”

“—Yeah.”

“It’s a little complicated,” I confessed. “I’ve been staying at their place since I was in sixth grade of elementary school. The Hiratsuka family home is in Hinami… There were…a number of reasons I had to leave.”

I didn’t want to tell her all the details. Hazumi seemed like she still wanted to drill me on the subject, but I pretended like I didn’t notice and turned away from her.

“So then, the Akazawas…”

We were just coming up on the bridge when she started working up to another question. I could get home by continuing to follow the path by the river, but I came to a halt and told her, “I’ll leave you here today.”

“Huh…?” she said, confused.

I looked away from her again. “I’ve got an errand to run over that way,” I said, gazing across the bridge.

I was a bit concerned about the thing I’d forgotten to mention earlier, which I had been just about to tell her, but… Well, I guess it’s probably all right. I don’t have to tell her right this second. I can bring it up to her tomorrow or after normal classes start.

“Okay then. See you later.”

I waved casually and strode across the bridge.

Hazumi stood there waving back at me, her hand low in front of her chest. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind tossed her long hair into her face, obscuring her expression the moment I turned back.

The sign, with its cream-colored letters painted onto a black background, hadn’t changed since my first visit three years ago, during autumn.

Standing out front of the first floor of a mixed-use building situated on a corner of the quiet residential neighborhood of Misaki and facing out toward the sloping street, the sign marked the entrance to a doll gallery with an eccentric name.

I hadn’t been lying when I’d told Hazumi that I had something to do, but that “errand” was, well… Let’s just say I didn’t exactly have plans to meet up with someone or anything like that. I’d simply wanted to drop in at the gallery—

A short distance from the entrance was a large, elliptical display window. This showing area had been adorned with the same doll (the upper half of an eerily beautiful girl) since I’d first visited. But when I swung by last February, she was gone. Someone had paid her full price and taken her home.

I felt kind of lonely without her there, but I imagined that Kirika, the artist who’d made her, was probably overjoyed that her creations were selling. Although depending on the doll, she probably felt something like loneliness when they went, too.

Now there was nothing in the window where the eerie torso had once stood. It was still empty.

Today there was no CLOSED sign hanging up. Just as I was about to enter, I decided to stop for a second and make a call. From my cell phone to hers—to Mei Misaki.

There was no response.

Mei lived on the third floor of this building. The second floor, Studio M, belonged to the doll artist Kirika—Mei’s mother.

I wasn’t even sure whether Mei would be home at this hour, since she was in high school. But there was a reason I’d come all this way…I wanted to inform her of the situation facing this year’s Grade 3 Class 3 straightaway. And I wanted her thoughts on the matter.

After deliberating over what to do for a moment, I pushed the doors open and went inside.

The doorbell tinkled with a dull chime.

It was the middle of the afternoon, but the inside of the gallery was wrapped in a dusky gloom. The instant I set foot inside, it felt like light had disappeared from the entire world.

“Welcome,” came a familiar, muffled voice.

From across a long, thin table immediately to the left of the entry, behind an ancient cash register, sat an old woman with white hair, dressed in dark-gray clothes that almost blended into the gloom of the gallery.

Her glasses were fitted with dark-green lenses. Pinching the temple piece between her fingers, she stuck her neck out over the table and stared at me.

“Oh, it’s Sou!”

Mei called this woman Grandma Amane. She was Mei’s great-aunt on her mother’s side, and she was always here, welcoming the customers.

“Hello,” I greeted her quietly.

Grandma Amane moved her wrinkled mouth in a chewing motion. “Yes, hello. You’ve grown, haven’t you, Sou?”

I feel like she says that every time I come here.

I’d first visited this gallery three years ago in October. Back then, I was still just an elementary school sixth-year, so I was much shorter—my voice hadn’t even settled yet. So yes, it was true that I had grown.

“You’re a friend to the shop, so you don’t need to pay. Are you going to see the dolls?”

“Um, actually—”

I did enjoy looking at the dolls and paintings on display. But that’s not why I came here today, so…

“Did you come to see Mei?”

“Yes.” I nodded intently. “I called her phone, but it didn’t go through, so I came in. Is she at school?”

“She’s upstairs,” Grandma Amane told me. “But she can’t see you today.”

“Huh?” I reflexively tilted my head. “Why…?”

“She’s been stuck in bed sick since the day before yesterday, you know.”

Sick? Maybe the flu—I see.

“Seems like her fever hasn’t gone down yet, either. I wouldn’t want you to catch it, so I can’t let you go upstairs, all right?”

“—I didn’t know.”

I glanced up at the gallery’s dark ceiling and took a deep breath.

“Thank you very much. Um, well, please take care.”

“She’s young; you don’t have to worry. I’ll tell her you came by, Sou.”

“Ah, sure. Please do, thanks.”

I bowed politely and left the shop.

I’ll give it a few days, then try to reach her again.

—Although…

If she’s got the flu and a high fever, she must be in pretty rough shape. So why did she go out of her way to e-mail me last night? That thought began, ever so slightly, to unravel the thread of tension that had been stretched tight ever since that morning.

Stepping outside, I cast my gaze once again on the sign, BLUE EYES EMPTY TO ALL, IN THE TWILIGHT OF YOMI. The words Blue Eyes Empty to All naturally recalled the color of Mei Misaki’s left iris, of her “doll’s eye.”

Even now, I still occasionally had the dreams.

They’d started before I came to town—when I’d still been living in my family home in Hinami. I would have terrifying visions, nightmares born from fragments of the experiences I was having at the time.

They were usually set at Lakeshore Manor near Lake Minazuki. Uncle Teruya had lived there alone while he was still alive—

Teruya’s older sister—my mother, Tsukiho, in other words—changed her surname to Hiratsuka when she remarried ten years ago and had a daughter, Mirei, with her second husband—my stepfather, in other words. Since I didn’t fit into this new household, I would often go to stay at Lakeshore Manor. Uncle Teruya both worried about me and doted on me, treating me more like a little brother than a nephew, and filled me in on all sorts of things I hadn’t known before. I loved him. He’d had a library filled with so many books that I couldn’t have read them all even if I spent the rest of my life at his house. I’d loved spending time there by myself, too. However…

The spring of three years ago brought Uncle Teruya’s sudden death. The night of his twenty-sixth birthday. Suicide. A long time coming. And—

The beginning of a series of unusual incidents.

My memories of that time were…bizarre. Any normal person would think I was delusional. Usually, I kept them shut away in a little box that I had created in a corner of my mind, but it wasn’t like I could completely forget about them. And there were some memories that I could never completely contain, no matter how hard I tried. If I cracked open the box, even just a little, they would come rushing back in vivid detail.

And that little box was the source of my nightmares.

Sometimes, when I was sleeping, the seal on the container would break, and all the things that had been stuffed away would come spilling out…

Once, I dreamed I was in the back garden of Lakeshore Manor, taking a knee in the dirt. Stretching out before me were rows and rows of crosses, made crudely out of scraps of wood (—like that scene from Forbidden Games, an old French movie…). One of these crosses was much newer and larger than the rest. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I reached out to that cross with both hands. But when I grabbed the horizontal bar and tried to pull it out of the ground…suddenly—

The earth right in front of the cross split open, and a bloody human hand pushed its way out of the dirt. It was exactly…it was just like the famous shocking final scene from an old horror movie I had borrowed during my first year of middle school.

The hand that had emerged from the dirt grabbed me by the ankle.

I let out a shriek.

Then, one after the other, the rows of crosses burst from the ground and toppled over. The fallen objects proceeded to blacken, as though they had been scorched, before turning into ash and blowing away in the wind.

Giant crows appeared in the sky. Flapping their huge wings, they let out piercing shrieks, spitting up streams of dark blood. That very same fluid began to gush from my mouth as I continued to scream. The blood became rain, and the rain begat a flood. I struggled and sank, and there at the bottom of the deep sea of blood, I would finally awaken from the dream.

Or how about this one—

I would start out the dream in pitch-black. There wasn’t even the slightest glimmer of light; it was literally total darkness… Then suddenly, I would notice a bad smell. The more aware of it I became, the worse the stench got…and as soon as I thought I couldn’t stand it anymore, a meager light would fill the inky black. Then I would see it—

A corpse.

Somebody’s dead body, resting on a filthy sofa.

Rotten skin. Rotten flesh. Rotten innards… Uncountable swarms of squirming insects.

I’m here, deceased.

I’m dead, and I’ve transformed into this ugly, disgusting thing. I—

I am the “casualty” after all. And it’s not anyone else. I and I alone am the “casualty,” the person who will send everyone to their doom. It’s me. I’m the one…

Then, when I was at my wits’ end and about to shriek—

Bang!

An intense noise would shake the entire world. The corpse would crumble and lose all its shape, as though it had been bludgeoned by an invisible ax. Together with the sofa, it would dissolve into a viscous black liquid and melt into the darkness. Then it would spread out around my feet and climb up my body, inching slowly from my legs toward my mouth…and just as I was about to let out a voiceless scream, I would awaken from the nightmare with a start.

Today, I’d also had one of these dreams.

After staying through dinner at the Akazawas’ house, I’d gone back to my apartment and laid down on my bed, where I unfortunately dozed off. It was really just a few minutes, but during that short snooze…

A low rumbling sound came from somewhere.

I immediately realized that it was the vibration of my cell phone set to silent mode. That was probably what caused me to open my eyes.

As I sat up and reached for my phone, which I’d tossed on the desk, the buzz of the incoming call stopped. I checked my voice mail and saw that Yagisawa had tried to reach me.

Last night, he told me his phone was busted, but I guess he got it fixed already.

He’d left a message.

—Heya, it’s Yagisawa. Thanks for playing your role; it’s a tough job. I think it’s okay for me to contact you like this, as long as it’s after school hours. My optimistic prediction may have been wrong, but let’s do our best and try not to dwell on it. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Right? Talk to you later.

Sure, it was after school, so I wouldn’t be breaking the rules by reaching out to him now. But as I had gently reminded Hazumi, my “number two,” it was best to avoid as much contact with our classmates as possible even when we weren’t on campus.

If I tried keeping up with my friends like normal outside of school, then I might slip at some point when we were there… It would be all too easy for an accident like that to happen. That’s how I saw it, anyway, so that would be my policy going forward.

Even under these circumstances, I wasn’t going to return his call.

I wouldn’t ignore everyone who rang me up or refuse to answer everyone who spoke to me, but I was at least going to actively avoid making contact.

—Yeah. That’s probably best for the time being.

8

I got up to wash my face and looked at myself in the bathroom mirror.

It had been two years and seven months since I’d arrived in Yomiyama. I could see that my features had changed a lot in that time, but my face was still pale and small, and I looked kind of androgynous depending on the angle. My underlying complexion was still the same. And though my voice had definitely gotten lower, I still didn’t have much facial hair growing in yet…

I washed my face with cold water to bring myself back to my senses after my nap. Just as I considered taking a full shower, I remembered that I had no soap or shampoo in my bathroom.

Come to think of it, I didn’t even have a toothbrush and toothpaste at the sink. I’d forgotten to bring them when I moved. This morning, I had gone to the Akazawas’ house and brushed my teeth while I was there, but I had yet again forgotten to bring any toiletries up to my apartment.

I looked at the clock. It was past nine.

It’s getting a little late, but…

I’m gonna go get them.

I’d made up my mind. As I left the apartment, I stuck my cell phone in my jacket pocket with my keys, thinking nothing of it.

But just as I was about to push the elevator call button in the lobby, an incoming call brought my phone to life.

Deliberately suppressing my excitement, I picked up with a short, “Yes?”

“Ah…Sou?”

A weak, hoarse voice answered me.

“Mei?”

I’d seen that it was her from the display, but I couldn’t help confirming it regardless.

“Mei, is that you? Um…ah—”

As I searched for the right words, I heard her coughing on the other end.

“Are you all right? I heard you had the flu, so…”

“Grandma Amane told me you came by the gallery,” she responded before coughing again for a while.

“Uh, are you…okay?”

“Sorry. My fever has come down a bit, but I’m still…”

“You should take it easy.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t think I’m gonna die or anything.”

What the…? Don’t say it like that! It’s bad luck!

“Why did you go out of your way to come visit? Was it what I think it was?” she asked.

I answered immediately. “That’s right. Today, after the opening ceremony, we had homeroom, and—”

“It’s an ‘on year,’ isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“I see.”

“And, um, I’m also this year’s ‘non-exister.’”

“So you went and did it, huh?”

“I—” Unconsciously gripping the device in my hand ever tighter, I responded, “I can’t run away from this responsibility, so…”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Oh, and Mei? Actually, this year is a little…”

Just as I was about to tell her about the “additional countermeasure” of having two “non-existers,” she burst into another coughing fit on the other end of the line. I trailed off and reconsidered.

“It seems like speaking is hard on you, so…I’ll call you back later, after you’re feeling better,” I told her, then added, “but thanks for reaching out.”

Mei had to be feeling pretty bad, because all she could manage was a hoarse “understood” before our conversation came to an end.

However—

No sooner had I hung up and put my phone back in my pocket with a sigh than the door to unit <E-1> by the elevator (the room I’d mentioned earlier that didn’t have a nameplate) flung open.

9

It moved so suddenly that I leaped back, but there wasn’t any particular reason to be surprised. This apartment also had someone living in it, and she just happened to be stepping out at the moment.

The woman who came out of <E-1> was someone I knew very well—

“Oh, Sou!” she said once she recognized me. “Perfect timing. Would you give me a hand?”

She was clutching garbage bags in both her hands. Three in total.

“Help me throw these out, please?”

“Huh…ah, s-sure.”

She was dressed casually in a baggy blue sweatshirt and jeans, so it took me a second to place her, but that face and that voice…there was no doubt about it. That was definitely her.

“My room was a total mess. I had so many things I didn’t need,” she told me, shoving one of the bags into my hands. “I promised I would take care of keeping the place clean, but…man, it turned into a dump before I knew it.”

Although she was speaking casually, her voice was still energetic and articulate. “You’re going to be living up here alone for a while, aren’t you, Sou?”

“Yeah, I am. Probably until about June.”

“Well, the main house isn’t far, so I’m sure you won’t want for anything.” She zipped past me and pushed the elevator button. “You can come talk to me anytime you’re having trouble, whether that’s with everyday stuff or with what’s going on in class…okay?”

“Uh, sure. Thanks.”

We rode the elevator down together to the first floor. Then we tossed the garbage bags into the collection box for the apartment building, which was off to the side of the bicycle storage room entryway.

“Thanks for your help. See you around,” she said, lightly brushing her hands together as she looked my way. “Going out now?”

“Yeah, just for a bit.”

“Where to? Got some errands?”

“Uh, well…”

When I candidly answered that I was going to retrieve my toiletries, she responded, “Oh, well, you can use what I have at my place.”

“Huh? But—”

“I’ve got extra soap and an extra toothbrush set. And you can use my shampoo, too.”

“But…”

“It’s already after nine. I bet they go to bed early over there.”

“Ah…”

“Don’t be shy. We’re cousins, after all.”

The way we acting in the classroom and the way we were acting now—it was completely opposite. But that was appropriate, considering our relationship. The two of us were indeed related.

Until the Akazawas took me in three autumns ago, we’d never had the opportunity to meet. But ever since then, we’d spent a fair amount of time together, since we were both around the same age…though this was the first year we’d been in class together.

I wonder what I should call her during school? I pondered, but it was a little late for that.

I guess I should use her family name. Calling her by her first name seems somehow wrong, even though I do it all the time normally… Though as a “non-exister,” I wasn’t in a position to speak to her then anyway.

“How long have you been living in that room?” I asked as we rode the elevator back up.

She tilted her head to the side as she thought. “Um…since the summer of our second year, I think.”

“Why? There’s the penthouse upstairs.”

“I’ve got my reasons. Plus, Mama and Papa usually give in to my selfish whims.”

“Do you hate them or something?”

“No, nothing like that.”

Her prim expression softened somewhat as she glanced at me out of the corner of her eye.

“Living in my own space is easier because I don’t have to take anyone else into consideration. I mean, don’t you think so, too, Sou?”

“Sure, I suppose.”

“Besides, once I go to college or whatever, I’m going to kiss Yomiyama good-bye and start living alone. I’m kind of practicing for that while I’m still here…get it?”

College, huh?

I hadn’t even had the chance to think about those kinds of future questions at all. Getting out of this mess was my primary concern.

I’ve got to make it there first…

“Thanks,” I replied as I accepted them, and then—

“Tomorrow’s the entrance ceremony, but…are you even going?” she asked, her expression suddenly serious.

“I wasn’t planning to,” I answered.

She nodded, still wearing a grim expression. “Yeah, there aren’t any classes yet, so not showing up is the right thing to do.”

“Yeah.”

“We’re supposed to select the class reps and everything during tomorrow’s homeroom, but I can fill you in later on what you need to know. After that, you can tell me if there’s anything you think will be a problem. Of course, that’s after classes are over and we come home, yeah? I’m sure it’s really tough, but since you’re a ‘non-exister,’ you’ve got to do it right…”

“I know. I’m fine,” I snipped clearly, then stiffened my lip. “You won’t catch me speaking to anyone at school. Not even to my dear cousin.”

“Good luck. We all have to do our best.”

“Yeah. All right, thanks for these. I’ll bring the shampoo back later.”

“Tomorrow’s fine. Good night.”

“Night.”

I walked to the entrance of my apartment, then turned back toward the elevator. I could see her silhouette on the other side of the lobby, about to shut the door.

The lights that lined the corridor ceiling suddenly began to flicker. They stopped right away, only to be replaced by a low throbbing. The world went black, as if someone had turned out the lights. But an instant later, it ended, fast enough for me to forget it had ever happened.

I stood there staring at the now-closed entrance to room <E-1>. I turned over everything I knew about her in my mind.

Her name was Izumi—Izumi Akazawa.

“Yeah, just a little… Oh, but I seem to be improving already, so I thought I might go to the bookstore or something.”

“Oh?”

Despite her slight frown, Mayuko didn’t ask me any more questions. Instead, she simply told me, “Be careful and have a good time,” and smiled faintly.

“Um…would you mind keeping this a secret from Auntie Sayuri?”

“Hmm? Why?”

“I would feel bad about making her anxious. The main residence is going through a lot right now.”

Hiromune Akazawa, the family patriarch who lived in the house with his oldest son and his wife, had been in poor health since the end of last year. Because of his situation, they were renovating the old house to make it more accessible. The construction work had also spurred my temporary move into the Freuden Tobii.

“You don’t have to be that considerate…”

Mayuko stopped whatever she was about to say next, then glanced over her shoulder at the doors into the building.

“By the way, Sou?” She came up beside me and lowered her voice. “You’re in the same class with Izumi this year, right?”

“Uh, yes.”

“Is there some kind of, um, special problem going on there?”

“Ah…”

My hands, gripping the handles of my bike, were suddenly sweaty.

“Why…do you ask?”

“I can sort of…tell.”

We weren’t supposed to reveal too much about the situation at school, even to our families. That was one of the “rules,” and I was sure that she—Izumi Akazawa—was faithfully upholding them. Nevertheless, Mayuko must have sensed that something was amiss in the way her daughter was speaking and behaving…right?

“There’s not really anything going on,” I answered, trying to feign impassivity. “Yesterday was just the opening ceremony anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Mayuko asked, looking yet more concerned. “Listen, you probably haven’t heard, Sou, but there have apparently been some pretty bad rumors going around about Grade 3 Class 3 at North Yomi for a long time.”

Ah, I get it. She’s been picking up on them.

“What kind of things have been getting around?” I tried to probe for more.

“How do I put it…? I heard that the class has a lot of dangerous accidents and incidents. And sure enough, three years ago, there were all sorts of…”

She put her palm to her forehead and pressed a thumb to her temple. After holding that pose in silence for a while, she finally shook her head slowly and lowered her hand.

“…Oh, I feel sort of strange. Sorry. Don’t worry about me.”

But a shadow of some terrible loneliness and sadness had fallen across her face.

“I’ll keep quiet about today to Sayuri. But I don’t want you to worry so much, okay? It’s not good for you.”

Mayuko smiled faintly again and ran a hand through her shoulder-length hair. It was shockingly white for her age—she was only in her mid-forties, so much younger than her sister-in-law Sayuri.

“You should come up to our place for a bite to eat sometimes. I’m sure that Natsuhiko and…Izumi would also be happy to see you. Okay?”

I wasn’t riding my bike to school, and I wasn’t headed for a bookstore, either—I was going to the library. Specifically, the public library in the nearby neighborhood of Romero, which sat on the grounds of a public park known as Daybreak Forest.

When I’d lived in Hinami, I had access to the library at Lakeshore Manor, so I never wanted for reading material. Not only had its shelves been lined with children’s manga and novels, but I could get recommendations from Uncle Teruya or go digging on my own. Because of that, I’d ended up reading tons of books that were maybe a little too challenging for an elementary schooler. That’s how I came to the hobby, and nothing much had changed since my move to Yomiyama.

I regularly frequented public libraries. When I’d first started middle school, I primarily made use of the school library, but it had become insufficient over time.

Today, as usual, I returned a number of volumes that I had borrowed and checked out a few new ones.

Now that the school entrance ceremony was complete, normal classes would begin the next day. Naturally, as a “non-exister,” I couldn’t talk to anyone if I attended, so I would be spending a lot of time alone. I figured it would be essential to go ahead and get some books I hadn’t read.

My errand finished, I left my bike parked in front of the library and wandered through the park alone.

It was fine weather, more springlike than the day before, and there was no wind. The warm sunshine felt nice.

It was early afternoon on a weekday. Throughout the largely deserted park, I spotted elderly people sitting here and there on benches, their backs rounded. I could also see a few mothers taking walks with babies in colorful strollers…

I reflexively averted my eyes from the women pushing their strollers.

I didn’t think she was an awful mother. Rather, I now saw that she was a weak woman. I couldn’t do anything about that. And so…

I wasn’t particularly hurt by it.

I walked through the promenade in the center of Daybreak Forest Park, lined on both sides with splendid cherry trees in full bloom. When I emerged on the other end, I could make out Yumigaoka Mountain in the distance.

It was the highest point of the mountain ridge, which sat along the east side of town. Turning my gaze to an adjoining hill, I spied a familiar building—Yumigaoka Municipal Hospital.

The thin, wispy clouds floating against the background of a broad blue sky and the straight lines that made up the hospital building—the combination was kind of interesting.

I formed an imaginary viewfinder with my thumbs and forefingers, then snapped the imaginary shutter. Just then, cherry blossoms came twirling into the frame, fluttering down across the shot and grazing my lens.

I narrowed my eyes, stretched as hard as I could, and stared up at the sky high above me.

As long as I can spend my days like this… It was a peaceful, unblemished spring afternoon.

I wish this would go on forever.

Tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, I’m not going to school. I bet that’s probably the best way to make sure that the “countermeasures” take effect.

It’s not much trouble for me to be alone. I’m sure that I have the most experience in that realm, more than any of my classmates. Yeah, I’ll just stay like this…

The next moment, my cell phone began vibrating in my jacket pocket.

I looked at the display, expecting something like that, and found myself unintentionally sucking in breath.

The name of the caller on the screen was “Tsukiho.”

A call from her? Now?

I felt conflicted. In the end, I ignored this call from my mother.

—So you’re a third-year already, Sou? Mirei is, too. A third-year in elementary school.

When I listened to my voice mail after she hung up, this was the message she had left:

—Sayuri said you’re doing well. Ummm…oh, are you going to the clinic like you’re supposed to? Uhhh…do you have enough spending money? If you need more, just tell me. I’d like to come visit if I have the opportunity, too…

Once every month or two, she called me like this, as if she had just remembered that I existed. Speaking timidly in a frail voice, her calls were always the same. And then at the end, she would always finish with the exact same line.

—I’m sorry, Sou.

Ah, you don’t really have to… I don’t want you to apologize.

Although I was only a fourteen-year-old junior high student, still a child in the world’s eyes, I had a pretty clear picture of the sort of “grown-up problems” that she was facing. I’d been pretty upset back when she’d first sent me away from home, but now, more than two years later, I was no longer interested in blaming anyone. And yet—

“Man…forget this…”

As I stuck my cell phone back in my pocket, I glanced up again at the outline of the hospital on Yumigaoka.

The “clinic” that Tsukiho had mentioned was in that building—officially, the Yomiyama Municipal Hospital Psychoneurological Department. I’d been going there regularly for counseling ever since my arrival.

Come to think of it, this coming Saturday is my next appointment, I think.

Maybe I’ll make up an excuse and skip this time…

3

“Sounds like the renovations on the house are really going to get underway next week,” I said. “I imagine they’ll do most of the work during the day, when I’ll be at school. So I feel kind of bad that your folks went out of their way to set me up with this apartment. They said it was important, considering I’ve got high school entrance exams coming up, but still, somehow I can’t help but feel guilty…”

“Oh? I don’t think you need to be that worried about it,” Izumi replied.

“What do you mean?”

“The place is gonna be a mess during the construction. Plus, there’s everything that’s going on with Grandpa,” Izumi explained.

“Well, that’s—”

“He always was a stubborn guy, but he’s getting harder and harder to please these days… Mama says so, too. And with his body in that bad of shape, it would be all sorts of difficult to live with him.”

“That’s… Well, yeah.”

“And hey, having you take refuge up here for the time being is easier on Auntie Sayuri, too. It has to give her peace of mind.”

“I wonder.”

“This room was empty anyhow. And Mama was all for it.”

That night, I was chatting with Izumi Akazawa.

After dinner, I’d gone back to my apartment, and then she showed up at my door a little after eight. She’d come to deliver a report on the state of Grade 3 Class 3 earlier that day.

Izumi was dressed casually, as she had been the night before, and stepped into my apartment without hesitation. Standing across from me at the living room table, she pushed a can of oolong tea into my hands.

Then she set a sturdy paper bag that she’d brought with her on the table and plopped down in a chair.

“This is a complete set of your new textbooks. And I stuck your class schedule for the first semester in there, too.”

When she told me that, I unconsciously let out a small noise of surprise. “Ah…”

It was the start of a new semester, so obviously the students would be receiving new textbooks. And since classes started the next day, there would be a schedule, too. And yet, all of these commonsense things had completely slipped my mind. I had been trying to conduct myself with as much composure as possible and without any mistakes, preoccupied with the special circumstances of our class.

“Thanks for going to the trouble.” I thanked her earnestly.

Izumi answered with a short, “Sure!” and then immediately launched into her report. “After the entrance ceremony, we had a long homeroom just like every year and chose class reps and officers and stuff. A boy named Yagisawa and a girl named Tsugunaga got picked as the representatives.”

“Yagisawa is a rep?”

Somehow, I wasn’t expecting that.

With his long, unruly hair and round, tinted glasses, Yagisawa had quite an eccentric look for a middle schooler; he didn’t seem like the class representative type at all. Indeed, during first and second year, not a single person had endorsed him for the position, and yet…why now?

It was a total enigma to me, but Izumi’s explanation readily revealed the answer. “Yagisawa put himself in the running. And there weren’t any opposing candidates or any objections to his eligibility.”

But why did he volunteer in the first place? I’ll have to unearth his real motives later.

“Let’s see, and that girl, Tsugunaga, she’s…”

“Tomoko Tsugunaga,” Izumi clarified. “Is it your first time in the same class with her?”

“It is.” I nodded.

Izumi opened the pull top on the oolong tea she had brought for herself and took a huge swig.

“Yagisawa is a friend of yours, right, Sou?”

“I guess. We’ve been in the same class ever since our first year.”

Also… I was about to continue, but I stopped myself this time. Somehow, I felt like explaining further would be a pain. The thought of it just bummed me out.

“The atmosphere in the classroom was tense and nervous, as you’d expect,” Izumi told me, dropping the tone of her voice a little.

“Once I start attending tomorrow, I’m sure everyone will be even more anxious, huh?”

“I mean, it is everyone’s first experience with this. It seems like there are still some students who just don’t believe it or can’t bring themselves to believe it’s happening.”

“I guess that’s probably also unavoidable.”

“But the thing is, in order for the ‘countermeasures’ to be successful, we need everyone’s cooperation,” Izumi said, eyes flashing. “They can choose to take stock in it or not, but we need to get everyone to be diligent about following the ‘rules.’”

“How’s Hazumi?” I asked, suddenly concerned. “Did she go to school today?”

“She wasn’t in the classroom, no.”

After responding, Izumi immediately continued. “But I saw her by the gate to campus on my way home.”

“Hazumi?”

“Yeah. Apparently, she skipped the entrance ceremony and homeroom, then waited there until the end of class. She also picked up her textbooks from a friend who brought them out to her.”

“Oh, really?”

“And it sounded like she stood there chatting with that friend about this and that for a while… She was outside the grounds, so it’s not a violation of the guidelines.”

“No, it sure isn’t.”

“I spoke to her, too, you know, back there,” Izumi told me.

“To Hazumi? About what?”

“About you, Sou.”

“Me?”

“She asked to confirm that you hadn’t gone to school today.”

“Hmm?”

“That was the first time she and I had ever exchanged words, but the fact that she went out of her way to ask me must mean she thought I was someone who was close to you, right?”

“Probably.”

Recalling the way Hazumi had been acting the day before, I nodded. “She saw that my address was listed ‘in care of Akazawa’ on the class roster and seemed pretty concerned about it.”

“I explained everything to her. I told her we lived close by and were cousins. She also seemed worried about how you would get your textbooks, so I assured her that I would bring them to you.”

As I sat there talking face-to-face with Izumi, I got the sense that we were more like siblings than cousins. And even though we were the same age, I had an overwhelming feeling that she was my older sister…but I’m sure that was thanks to her personality and disposition, along with the strange circumstances we’d found ourselves in.

Though not particularly headstrong, Izumi was a fast thinker, and she had the physical dexterity to match the quickness of her mind.

As for me, no matter how deliberately I endeavored to do things, they just didn’t turn out how I wanted.

After that, my conversation with Izumi turned away from school issues and switched over to what was going on with the Akazawa family. From there, we circled around to the matter of my retreat to the new apartment.

“I know that you’re always considering the needs of others, but you ought to let Auntie Sayuri and Uncle Haruhiko do a little bit more to take care of you.”

“Auntie and Uncle were really happy when you came to stay with them, you know. Mama told me.”

But still…

“They were pleased? Why?”

“You know. Auntie and Uncle had two daughters, but both of them got married and left home as soon as they were grown. And they both moved really far away, too.”

Of course. I had heard this story before.

The older daughter married an employee of a famous trading company and, if I remembered correctly, was currently living in New York. Meanwhile, the younger daughter got together with a marine biologist she met in college, and they’d made their home in Okinawa.

“So you see.” Izumi’s gaze suddenly softened. “When the family settled on you coming here, they felt like they were getting a new son. Regardless of the circumstances that brought you here, they’re really happy to have you.”

“Is that…so…?”

Even with her explaining it to me, I still didn’t think I could take it all seriously. Whether or not she knew my inner feelings, Izumi took another big swig of her oolong tea, then let out a little sigh.

“There’s not much chance of any of the Akazawa children staying in this town or ever coming back, you know. Even me—if I go to college, I’m thinking of moving to Tokyo.”

I listened to her describe this to me in a slightly despondent tone of voice—and then I remembered something. Izumi had a brother who was much older than she was.

Come to think of it, he’s also…

“Was it Germany, where your brother went? He’s been there a long time, hasn’t he?”

“The apartments…you mean ‘Freuden Tobii’?”

“It’s German, ‘Freuden.’ It means ‘happiness.’”

“Your brother named the building?”

“That’s right.”

“Ah, I see.”

Just then, I remembered something and got up from the table. I went into the bathroom and retrieved the shampoo I had borrowed the night before.

“Thanks for this,” I said. “I brought my own up today, so I won’t need it again.”

But at that moment, Izumi seemed preoccupied with something else.

“Oh, sure.”

As she gave a half-hearted reply, she suddenly raised her right arm and pointed to the bookshelf along the wall.

“That’s…” She was staring at the thing sitting on the center of one shelf. It was a photo in a simple wooden picture frame. “That picture…”

It was an old color photograph taken fourteen years ago, during the summer of 1987.

“The man pictured there, by any chance, would he be…Teruya Sakaki?”

“That’s right,” I answered, taking a deep breath. “He was my uncle on my mother’s side. He died three years ago this spring, but…”

I wonder how much Izumi knows? I thought. First of all, is she aware of why I had to leave the Hiratsukas and enter the care of the Akazawas three years ago? How much does she know about the series of incidents at Lakeshore Manor that caused all that…?

“I’ve heard about Mr. Sakaki from Mama. That he was your mom’s little brother and that you really looked up to him… She told me that he passed away three years ago, which really shocked you.”

“Mm.”

I slowly walked over to the bookshelf and picked up the picture in question.

Written on the frame was the caption: “The last summer of middle school!”

The image had probably been taken on the shore of Lake Minazuki. There were five boys and girls in the picture, and standing there smiling on the right side was Teruya, just fifteen at the time…

After what happened three years ago, I’d taken the picture from his library at Lakeshore Manor but hadn’t wanted to keep it near me… So without warning, I sent it to her—to Mei Misaki. But before long, she returned it to me.

“You’re really the one who should hang on to this,” she’d insisted.

“This is Teruya,” I remarked, pointing to the boy on the right as Izumi stared at the photograph. “The other four are his friends, and they were all in Grade 3 Class 3 at North Yomi that year.”

“And that was…1987?”

I could tell that Izumi was surprised simply by the tone of voice in her response.

“1987 was an ‘on year,’ and they hadn’t figured out an effective ‘countermeasure’ yet. So during summer break, they all escaped Yomiyama and went to the house in Hinami…”

I was pretty sure this was the first time I’d told this story to anyone other than Mei Misaki. I second-guessed myself but then concluded I was right—I hadn’t even told Yagisawa in this much detail.

Realizing this, I observed Izumi’s profile as she peered at the photo.

Her lips were drawn, frowning slightly. She was staring at the picture intensely, as though she were devouring it with her eyes. A faintly sweet-and-sour scent wafted from her soft hair, which was tied up in a ponytail. The same scent as the shampoo I’d borrowed.

“I’ve heard of the ‘tragedy of ’87,’” she told me, pulling her gaze away from the photo. “The Grade 3 Class 3 bus had an accident during their field trip, which resulted in a ton of casualties. Is that when Mr. Sakaki and his friends…?”

I nodded silently, then returned the frame to its place. Frankly, I just didn’t want to talk about it anymore right now.

Suddenly, she asked, “Isn’t this place a little barren?”

“Ah? I guess it is.”

“I think you should have at least a refrigerator and a TV.”

“No, I don’t need either.”

Completely ignoring my response, she continued. “There’s a mini fridge in my brother’s room, so you can bring it down from upstairs. And I think there’s an extra TV there, too.”

“Wait, I said I don’t—”

“You don’t have to be shy, okay?”

“Hmm…”

“Also…”

The next thing Izumi laid her eyes on was the pile of books beside my PC on the table. I’d just borrowed all of them from the library that day.

“Mm-hmm. So you’re a regular at the library in Daybreak Forest, huh?”

Sternly folding her arms across her chest, she brought her face close to the volumes and read their titles.

“If you like this type of book, there are a ton of them in my brother’s room,” she informed me, a slightly amused smile spreading across her lips. “Come look sometime. If there’s anything you want to read, it’ll be faster than getting it from the library.”

“Oh, sure. But…”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. My brother almost never comes home anyway. It’s totally cool for you to take whatever you want.”

4

It was the morning of April 11, a Wednesday. Regular classes began that day.

The two positions had been assigned well in advance for the “non-existers.” Moreover, there was something different about the desks and chairs in these two places—they were a different model than the others, both extremely old.

These pieces of furniture had been carried over from the Grade 3 Class 3 classroom on the second floor of the old school building, which was now referred to as “Building Zero.” The desks and chairs for the “non-existers” needed to come from the old school building—this “rule” had been in effect ever since the implementation of the current “countermeasures.” In accordance with this stipulation, the countermeasures officers had brought over two sets of furniture, one more than in a normal year.

The desks were all carved up. It was clear that they had been used by all sorts of students over dozens upon dozens of years. They were lined with traces of graffiti that had been scratched out and some that hadn’t been fully erased… The desk’s surface was also pitted here and there, which made it difficult to use without putting a desk pad under your paper first.

As a matter of course, I didn’t say a single word to any of my classmates both before and after taking a seat, and I also tried not to make eye contact with them, either. Not with the students whose names I didn’t quite know yet or Yagisawa, who I’d been close with ever since our first year, or even with Izumi, who I’d just seen earlier this morning in the entrance hall of our apartment building… I didn’t look at anyone.

To completely transform into a “non-exister,” I would have to conduct myself with a constant awareness that I was invisible to everyone around me.

I mulled over what I’d said to Hazumi the day before yesterday.

“To put it another way, you have to become sort of like a ghost yourself. Can you do that?”

I can do it, I thought. It’s something I can do, something I will do. But—

What about her? How will Hazumi handle it?

Just before the teachers came in and the first-period Japanese language class started, I glanced over quickly at her window-side seat. She had an elbow on her desk and was looking up at the teacher’s podium, but she must have sensed my gaze, for she suddenly turned toward me. Silently averting my eyes, I opened the textbook in my hands.

5

Morning classes ended without incident.

There was none of the usual “stand up, bow, sit down” routine. And when the teachers took attendance before the start of each class, they avoided calling role (so that they wouldn’t speak the names of the “non-existers”). Likewise, they never called on the “non-existers” during class. All the teachers seemed to be fully cognizant of the situation.

During the breaks between classes, I passed the time reading a book I had brought with me.

Today I had John Dickson Carr’s The Hollow Man, a very old mystery novel. I preferred books like this over the horror novels that Mei Misaki’s friend Koichi Sakakibara had recommended to me.

Almost all novels in the horror genre tend to invoke supernatural fear and danger—the story focuses on some demon or monster, and ghosts are especially common. No matter how I tried to get into them, I seemed to have some kind of resistance against those themes.

That feeling extended to movies as well. When I was first starting middle school, I’d tried watching a few famous horror flicks, also at Koichi Sakakibara’s recommendation. But they hadn’t been a good match for me. It was very clear that I wasn’t going to grow to love them like Koichi did. As with novels, I honestly just couldn’t enjoy stories about demons and monsters and ghosts, no matter how often I reminded myself they were fictional.

Because no matter how inexplicable or nightmarish the events that occurred between their pages, in the end, all those books’ puzzles are solved through logic and reason. The world of the mystery novel is predicated on the principle that supernatural and unscientific beings like demons, monsters, and ghosts don’t exist at all. I’m sure that my preference for these kinds of works came from some sort of rebellion or reaction against the strange world I’d confronted every day for years; they were like a coping mechanism.

Fourth period that day was science class with our homeroom teacher, Ms. Kanbayashi, and the atmosphere in the room during that hour seemed several degrees tenser than during any other course. I don’t think it was my imagination. The teacher herself was a “member” of Grade 3 Class 3 and carried the risk of being struck by the “calamity” if the worst was to come to pass, so…

Ms. Kanbayashi was very thorough when it came to ignoring Hazumi and me, the “non-existers.” From the time she entered the classroom until the time she left, she didn’t even look our way once. When the bell rang, signaling the end of class, I saw a look of relief pass clearly across her face.

During lunch, I left the classroom alone and went up to the roof. I figured it was better to eat my lunch where none of my classmates was present. That had been my intention anyway, but as I settled down in a corner of the dreary rooftop and opened the lunch box that Auntie Sayuri had made for me…

“Ah, here you are!”

To my surprise, I heard a voice, and my hands came to a halt. The voice had come from none other than Hazumi.

“You’re eating your lunch here, Sou? Can I join you?”

Whenever I had gotten anxious and looked over to check on her during morning classes, Hazumi had shot me a glance like she’d wanted to say something to me, so…that didn’t seem like a good sign. I should have expected that she would approach me during our break.

Just then, a crow cawed somewhere.

I looked up at the sky, then brought my gaze back down but didn’t direct it toward her. Instead, I silently shook my head right to left.

“Huh? Huh?”

She responded with surprise. Ignoring her, I stood up and hurriedly left the roof.

“Why…? Sou!”

Though I heard her words of confusion, I didn’t turn around. I simply remarked, “Fifth period is PE, so I think I’ll skip it and leave school.”

I was speaking only to myself, but I think she overheard me.

6

“You could have mentioned that a little earlier!”

This time I met Hazumi’s gaze straight on as I told her, “Even though we’re both ‘non-existers,’ I don’t think we can actually speak to each other normally at school.”

It was the middle of fifth period—gym class. We were currently off campus, in a neighborhood of Yomiyama that was a several minutes’ walk from the back gate.

Hazumi had followed me when I’d left school. Normally, leaving before classes were over was a violation of school rules, but as “non-existers,” we got special treatment. Even if a teacher had discovered us, we wouldn’t have been punished.

“Why is that?” Hazumi asked reluctantly. “It’s fine, since we’re both ‘non-existers,’ right? C’mon—we’re a team. No one in class seems to mind, do they?”

“That’s one way to look at it, but—” I narrowed my eyes and chose my next words slowly. “I can imagine an alternative.”

“Which is?”

“……”

“Sure, both of us are on the same ‘team’ in the sense that we both bear the burden of the same duty, but does that mean we can acknowledge each other and act like we ‘exist’? Don’t you think that ‘non-existers’ should be invisible even to each other?”

“……”

Hazumi frowned and tilted her head.

“This is gonna get a little complicated, but think about it. ‘Non-existers’ shouldn’t make their presence known to anyone, whether it’s ‘non-exister A’ not existing to ‘non-exister B’ or the other way around. And they should act accordingly during school, right? At least that’s what I think. So…”

I couldn’t tell whether it was taking her a while to understand what I was saying or if it was taking her a while to react. Then, after several moments of silence: “No way…,” she murmured. “But I came up there just to find you…”

Her voice was stiff, as was her expression.

She looks like she might burst into tears at any second… What am I supposed to do if she does? It’s not like I said I hate her or something.

I knew I should have been clearer about this the other day.

Even as I lamented my oversight, I continued. “So you see, you shouldn’t speak to me in school, and we should try to avoid doing things together while we’re there. I think that’s best—or at least, I think that’s safest.”

“……”

“So that means you need to act the part of the ‘non-exister’ on your own. I’m sure it will be difficult, but…you get it, right?”

Hazumi didn’t answer me; she just rocked her head back and forth. It was an ambiguous movement, which didn’t quite signify “yes” or “no.”

I shifted my gaze to the flow of the Yomiyama River. Beneath the shade, the cherry blossoms on the trees lining the opposite bank looked sickly pale.

Interrupting whatever she was about to say, I announced, “I’m heading back to school,” then turned on my heel. “The road ahead is long. And now that we’ve started down it, there’s no going back.”

Just as I was about to leave, I remembered something, stopped, then turned around. I suggested that we exchange cell phone numbers. That seemed to soften her expression a bit.

“If we have any problems or anything, we can contact each other,” I told her, “but not during school.”

This time, I didn’t forget to add a warning.

7

“I spoke with Morishita yesterday,” said Shunsuke Kouda as he took his glasses off and wiped dirt from the thick lenses. “I told him that we’ve missed him at biology club lately. It doesn’t sound like he wants to quit. I didn’t ask for specifics, but apparently, he’s got something going on at home.”

Morishita and I had been acquainted since our first year, as fellow members of the biology club. But come to think of it, I had never heard him speak about his family, what his parents did for work, or anything like that.

He doesn’t talk about his home life—does he not want to? Well, that’s the same for me, I guess.

“So that means that you don’t have to worry about running into anyone from Class 3 there, you know. You can let loose about all the things you can’t say during regular school hours.”

“I don’t really need a conversation buddy, though.”

“Hold on now—don’t say that!” Shunsuke put his glasses back on. “If you don’t come, soon we’ll be overrun with specimens.”

He glanced around the room and grinned. Although he’d been joking, I forced my face into a sour expression and scowled back.

It was after school, and we were in the biology club room.

The North Yomi biology club used to borrow the cooking club’s room, which was located in the specialty classrooms building (commonly referred to as Building T), once a week. It was a tiny group that barely kept up its activities. Several years ago, the biology club’s new faculty adviser, Mr. Kuramochi, had pressured the school into securing it a new room. But considering that the group only had two or three members from each grade even now, nothing had changed about its “puny” status.

The new clubroom was on the first floor of Building Zero, the old school building. The second floor, which was lined with old classrooms, hadn’t been used at all for a long time. Most of the structure was off-limits, but some sections of the first floor still saw use. There was the secondary library, where the aforementioned Mr. Chibiki worked, and the art room, plus some remaining percentage of rooms that had been allocated to various cultural clubs.

The current “master” of the biology club room was one Shunsuke Kouda.

Though he’d only become the head of the club this past April, in practice, he’d been its leader ever since the start of our second year. None of the upperclassmen had complained about that, and Mr. Kuramochi seemed to acknowledge his authority.

Shunsuke had a slender face and wore silver-rimmed glasses with thick lenses. He had a small build but was sturdier than you would expect.

On the other hand, his younger twin brother, Keisuke, who was in Class 3, didn’t wear glasses and used contact lenses to correct his nearsightedness. And he was in the tennis club. I wondered why they were so different despite being twins, but when you examined their features, they really did resemble each other, so I was grateful to have the presence or absence of glasses to help me tell them apart.

“Is today your first time talking to someone at school, by any chance?” Shunsuke asked.

“Do you think you can keep it up day after day? Seems bad for your health.”

“Nope, I’m fine in that respect,” I replied.

“Even if it doesn’t take a toll on your body, it can’t be great for your mental well-being.”

“I wonder…”

“I’m usually in here during lunch, so you can come hang out if you get lonely,” Shunsuke insisted.

“Ah…okay.”

“That said, I’ve heard the basics from Keisuke, but this problem with Class 3…just how serious is everyone about it?”

“One hundred percent serious.”

“Keisuke seems about half convinced, though.”

“We might not be able to change his feelings on it, but listen, it’s real. This isn’t some silly story like the Seven Mysteries or whatever. For the past twenty-eight years, a great number of ‘related individuals’ have actually died because of this thing. And unless our ‘countermeasures’ are effective, people will die every month this year, too.”

“What an awful burden.” He frowned. “And so you’ve taken on the responsibility of being the key to those ‘countermeasures’?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Hmm. Well, if the worst happens to you, I’ll scoop up your remains and put you with the rest of the specimens, okay, Sou?” joked Shunsuke as he gestured around the classroom.

The room was about half the usual size and was lined with all manner of tanks and cages. The adviser, Mr. Kuramochi, had limited North Yomiyama biology club activities to “breeding and observation.” That translated to us keeping all sorts of creatures in these tanks and cages. From water fleas and flatworms to varieties of fish, amphibians, and reptiles. We also kept all sorts of bugs. As for mammals, we currently had two hamsters.

“By the way, I’ve got some sad news. That’s also why I called you down here,” he remarked.

I cocked my head.

“The horrible truth is, little Woo has passed away.”

“Huh, he did?”

“I think it happened this afternoon. He was still moving around during lunch.”

“Woo” wasn’t the name of a piglet or some giant monster from an old SFX drama. No, he was an axolotl (male, approximately four years old) that we had been keeping here. Axolotls were a variety of salamander that had been very popular for a while, which were also called wooper loopers in Japan. We hadn’t been responsible for giving him such a basic name. Rather, one of the upperclassmen in the biology club who’d graduated last year had been keeping Woo at his house and left him with us as a “parting gift.” At that point, the name had already stuck.

And today, Woo was dead. Though he didn’t look any different than when we’d first come to take a peek at him during spring break.

“They say wooper loopers are supposed to live about five to eight years, so he passed a little early,” Shunsuke remarked, staring at the tank by the window where we’d kept the axolotl. When I glanced over, I could see that it was already empty.

“What caused it?”

“Not sure. I don’t think we made any mistakes in caring for him.”

“Huh…”

“So then,” Shunsuke continued, “I’m thinking of turning his remains into a transparent skeletal specimen. What do you think?”

You went out of your way to call me here and then ask that?

“I’m against it,” I answered immediately.

“I knew you would say that. But it’s rare to see a diaphanized wooper looper.”

“Doesn’t matter—I’m opposed.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Good grief!” Shunsuke grinned, throwing up his hands. “Guess I have no choice. I’ll preserve the next one.”

“I’ll allow a fish.”

I walked over to the empty tank, and Shunsuke pulled Woo’s corpse out of the refrigerator. He was in a glass container, covered with plastic wrap.

Oh yeah. If you don’t do this with animal corpses, they start to rot right away.

Woo was a beautiful golden specimen, about twenty centimeters long. Even in death, his round black eyes bore the same blank expression as always. Shunsuke held the container out to me wordlessly, and I accepted it with equal silence.

By no means were we on bad terms, but as members of the biology club, he and I had one major point of opposition: the question of what to do with animals that died in our care.

Shunsuke wanted to turn anything that expired into a transparent specimen, whether it was one of the hamsters, for example, or a rabbit or small bird, which we had none of at the moment. I was completely against the idea (though I didn’t say anything about insects or fish) and wanted to bury the deceased in the ground.

I understood that his interests lay in furthering the study of biology, so it wasn’t like I was constantly pushing my opinion on the matter, but…

For today, however, even if the deceased had been something like the Chinese red-headed centipede that we’d captured in this room last year, I probably wouldn’t have felt like giving him the go-ahead. Rather than a matter of policy, this was mostly a question of mood. My opinion was colored by my current circumstances, since I was part of the class that was somehow “closer to death.”

I buried Woo’s body in the ground and piled some small stones to mark the spot. I would have to make another grave marker and put it up soon.

I pressed my hands together lightly and prayed for his happiness in the next world.

Rest in peace. And—

Please don’t get caught up in the “phenomenon” and return to this world, even if we mess up.

8

That day, I ended up walking home from school with Shunsuke Kouda.

I wanted to stop in at the secondary library and speak with Mr. Chibiki, but the door was locked and had a CLOSED sign hanging on it. Later, I would learn that he was on leave for the whole month of April, for “personal reasons,” and that the secondary library was supposed to reopen in May.

As we headed for the school gate, we happened to run into Mr. Kuramochi, our club supervisor, and I greeted him right along with Shunsuke. We encountered Ms. Kanbayashi after that, but this time only Shunsuke gave a greeting. Since I “didn’t exist” to my homeroom teacher, I couldn’t acknowledge her on school grounds.

As soon as we passed through the gate and were off campus, an unexpected person joined us.

“Sou! Good work today.”

I’d known it was Izumi Akazawa as soon as I heard her voice. She seemed to have caught sight of us and run to catch up.

“Coming home from an activity?” I asked.

As she caught her breath, Izumi answered, “Yeah. We had a drama club meeting.”

“Oh, you’re in the drama club?”

Come to think of it, I feel like I also heard Hazumi mention that she was in the drama club last year.

“Um, and who’s this with you?” Izumi asked, looking toward Shunsuke.

“Shunsuke Kouda. Member of Class 1 and head of the biology club. A real oddball.”

I gave him a succinct introduction, then introduced Izumi to him as well.

“This is my cousin Izumi Akazawa. She’s in Class 3 with me.”

“Class 3?” Shunsuke rested a finger on the rim of his glasses. “But you’re talking with her normally… Ah, is it okay because we’re outside of school?”

I would have preferred not to have much contact with her on the way to and from school, but—on the other hand, I figured it was all right, because the person I was talking to was Izumi.

“Kouda…there’s another boy named Kouda in Class 3, too, isn’t there?” she asked.

This was the first time Izumi and Shunsuke had met, so she didn’t know that he was a twin.

Once I explained the situation, her eyes went slightly wide. “Wow. It’s really true—you do look alike when you take off your glasses.”

“Yeah. My brother tells me all about the issues Class 3 is up against,” Shunsuke admitted. “I’ve heard about the ‘accidents’ and the ‘countermeasures’ and all that. I actually know almost everything.”

So when Shunsuke meets a girl for the first time, he gets weirdly uptight and awkward, huh?

Chuckling to myself about his change in demeanor, I turned to Izumi. “I called him an oddball, but he’s really not a bad guy. You don’t need to avoid him on the street or anything.”

Izumi giggled, while Shunsuke turned a little red and glared at me.

Mm. I guess it’s not bad to chitchat like this sometimes.

And then, at the next intersection down, leading onto the main road, we stopped for a red light. When it changed to green, we began to step out into the pedestrian crosswalk. That’s exactly when it happened.

A car came charging into the intersection—the driver had probably seen a yellow light and decided to speed up. A small truck that was entering the intersection from the left swerved to avoid it, its tires squealing, and dramatically spun out. The moment it did, there was a noise, a different sound than the engine and tires were making, a violent pop resembling an explosion.

The truck had been carrying a large stack of timber in its bed. The rope holding it in place must have snapped or come undone. That was the source of the noise.

I froze in surprise, and beside me, Izumi let out a sudden shriek.

“Whoa!” Shunsuke shouted.

The truck driver recognized the accident in progress and quickly applied the brakes, but it was already too late. He avoided tipping the truck over on its side, but dozens of heavy logs went tumbling out onto the road from the truck bed…

The lumber thundered and rolled through the crosswalk in front of us. If we’d stepped out into the street as soon as the light had changed, I don’t know that we would have been able to safely avoid it. And if there had been any other cars in the intersection, it probably would have had much direr consequences.

“Damn! What a mess…”

The driver got down out of his cab and surveyed the disastrous scene in the intersection with a dumbstruck expression. Then he looked toward us. “Y’all okay?”

Of course, it was a complete coincidence that we’d happened to be there. For an instant, I felt a chill, but we hadn’t really been involved, and no one had gotten hurt. Still…

Could this be…?

If we hadn’t been taking the appropriate “countermeasures” at school, this incident surely would have ended in a terrible tragedy rather than a simple loss of cargo. Even the slightest change in the situation could have resulted in disaster. We might have been crushed by the falling logs or run over by the swerving truck—“death” would have probably “pulled” someone in.

That “someone” could have been Izumi or me, both members of Grade 3 Class 3. Although there’s a good possibility it could have been Shunsuke, too. He had a “blood relation within two degrees” in his twin brother, Keisuke, who was in Class 3, so that meant the calamity could also affect him.

“We’ve got to be careful,” Izumi stated, staring at my face as I sucked in deep breaths. “We have to make sure the ‘accidents’ don’t start. We’ve got to be absolutely sure.”

I met her look of concern with the steeliest expression I could muster and answered in a low voice, “Yes. This ‘job’ is certainly a heavy responsibility.”

There were no visitors other than me.

A sign was posted on a wall in the back corner, small enough that it would be easy to overlook. The message was accompanied by an arrow symbol pointing diagonally downward, toward stairs leading to the basement level.

This space was narrower than the ground floor—it felt like a catacomb.

Plenty of dolls were living down here, too, but it was messier than upstairs. It was less of a display gallery and more of a storeroom. There were completed figures as well as what looked like works in progress, and all sorts of doll parts were sitting everywhere—heads, torsos, limbs, etc. And sitting in a chair beside the round black table that had been placed in the center of the room was—

Mei Misaki.

“It’s been a while, Sou,” she said, getting up from her chair. “Sorry about last time.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

Though her voice was still a little hoarse, her fleeting smile seemed genuine.

She was wearing a simple ivory shirt and a black skirt. Vivid crimson embroidery decorated the shirt around the base of her neck.

Just then, the music playing throughout the gallery switched to a new song, Fauré’s “Sicilienne.” After a short piano prelude, the main tune came out on a cello.

As I stepped smoothly into the room, Mei also walked forward toward me. We stopped about a meter apart and stood facing each other for a moment.

Her black hair was cut in a shaggy, short bob. She had pale, bloodless skin like white wax. Recalling our previous encounters on the beach in the shadow of the Raimizaki Lighthouse years ago, it occurred to me that Mei didn’t seem to have changed in the slightest. Somehow, it was as if she, and she alone, existed out of time—

That day, her left eye had been covered by a white eye patch. And today, she looked exactly like the image that was burned into my memory.

This took me by surprise; over the past two years or so, I’d hardly ever seen her with the eye patch that she used to wear.

“Why’s your eye covered?” I asked.

“Just because,” Mei answered, her smile quickly vanishing.

2

It was Sunday, April 15, 2:30 in the afternoon.

The day before, Mei had sent an e-mail suggesting that we meet here around this time.

“I’m worried about certain things,”

she wrote.

“In situations like these, it’s probably best to meet up and hear what I have to say in person.”

“Of course, as long as you’re feeling all right,” was what I’d responded with. A lot was weighing on my mind, too, so I wanted to hear what she had to say…

“Sou, this place—this basement room, you don’t mind it, do you?” Mei asked, lightly stroking her eye patch. When I answered in the negative, she smiled faintly, then pointed to an upholstered red armchair near the round table. “All right, you can sit there.”

According to Mei, the dolls were all “empty.”

Their bodies and minds were hollow; they possessed the kind of emptiness that led to “death”… She told me that they were always trying to fill the cavities inside them with something.

That’s why, she’d claimed, when you gather a bunch of dolls in a space like this, people who step into it often feel as though something is being sucked out of them, as if all sorts of things are being pulled from inside them.

That’s why, in her words, “Sakakibara always seemed bothered by this place, no matter how often he came here. He told me that he had gotten used to it, but I could always tell…you know?”

She’d never once gotten that sense from me, however. On the contrary, I was at ease down here—or maybe it was more accurate to say that I’d been much less comfortable when Misaki had invited me to her residence on the third floor of the building. I hadn’t been able to settle down the whole time I’d been up there.

I thought that was probably—probably because I had a lot in common with the dolls. There was nothing inside me to be sucked out. I was “empty” just like them. Because of that, we probably existed in a comfortable equilibrium…

“One week has passed since the start of first semester,” Mei said abruptly from the chair across from the round table where she sat. “How is it? How’s the class?”

“Um…” I didn’t immediately answer as I tried to find the right words. “I think it’s going pretty well for now? Everyone’s kind of awkward and on edge, but…well, it’s all calm so far.”

“And how are you feeling, having accepted the duty of a ‘non-exister’?”

“How am I feeling?”

“Are you lonely? Is it starting to get to you?”

“Ah, no, I’m totally fine.”

There was no falsehood in my answer.

“Ask me?” Mei slowly narrowed her right eye. “About what?”

“About what happened three years ago…to the Class 3 of 1998. Actually, I wanted to ask you about it much earlier. But I couldn’t find a good time. And I thought it would be best to meet and talk about it in person, not over e-mail.”

Three years ago—

Mei Misaki had been a member of Grade 3 Class 3 at North Yomi. So had Koichi Sakakibara, who’d come to Yomiyama for just a single year, his third year of middle school. During that time, the two of them experienced the “phenomenon” firsthand and witnessed the “accidents” as they started. While on summer break, Mei had gone to visit Lakeshore Manor in Hinami where Uncle Teruya lived, thinking she could get some useful information out of him, since he’d experienced the same “phenomenon” in 1987’s Grade 3 Class 3.

Mei had actually taken on the role of the “non-exister” as part of the “countermeasures” for 1998… That was the sliver of the story that I’d heard so far. But I didn’t know anything beyond that.

Mei had never seemed inclined to reveal any more details to me than that. She didn’t seem keen on talking about it, so I’d figured I shouldn’t try to press her on it…

“…So you’ve got two ‘non-existers’ this year?” she asked.

As I explained how the “countermeasures” for this school year had turned out like that, Mei lowered her gaze to the table and mumbled, “We were in a similar situation three years ago; that’s true. And come to think of it, I believe we also had a girl named Etou in our class.”

“You were a ‘non-exister,’ right, Mei? But the ‘calamity’ started due to unforeseen circumstances, so you added additional ‘countermeasures’ in the emergency…is that correct?”

“That’s right. The ‘countermeasure’ failed that year. So another ‘non-exister’ was added—Sakakibara.”

“Sakakibara?”

“You didn’t hear about it from him?”

Because he—Koichi Sakakibara—had, much like Mei, seemed very reluctant to talk about anything surrounding the “phenomenon” from three years back in any detail.

“I see.” Mei slowly blinked her eye. “But you see, even that ultimately didn’t work. The ‘accidents’ didn’t let up, and just before summer vacation, our homeroom teacher died in an awful way, right there in the classroom…”

She let out a sigh and shook her head slowly. My heart ached a little. It obviously made sense that she wouldn’t want to keep revisiting that affair.

“That’s why,” Mei continued, staring into my eyes, “I don’t think there’s much point to selecting two ‘non-existers’ as a ‘countermeasure.’”

After she said that, she tilted her head slightly. “Hmm, but…well, there isn’t any precedent for having two ‘non-existers’ from the start of first semester, so I guess we shouldn’t make any assumptions.”

“So why did the ‘accidents’ stop three years ago, then? I’ve heard that you all stayed together as a class during a trip in August and that some terrible incident took place while you were there, but…from September on, no one died, right?”

“Ah, about that—”

She bit her tongue and shook her head more forcefully than she had before.

Is she trying to indicate that she doesn’t want to talk about it? How many times have I tried asking this question before? But whenever I do, she always acts the same way.

“Have you asked Mr. Chibiki? About his opinion on this year’s ‘countermeasures’?” Mei inquired.

This time, it was I who shook my head.

“He’s away on leave for a while. The secondary library is apparently opening in May.”

“Oh, really? I’m sure he’s exhausted.”

Mei sighed again, and then we heard a muffled voice from the stairwell. It was Grandma Amane.

“I made tea. Come on up here, the both of you.”

The CD that was playing had looped, so the sound of “Sicilienne” was once again filling the shop. We were drinking hot green tea that Grandma Amane had set out for us after we relocated to the sofa on the first floor. The drink was tastier than I expected. Before I knew it, I found my surprisingly frigid body steadily warming up.

“So what are these ‘things’ you’re worried about? You mentioned something earlier,” Mei said abruptly. “Hazumi is the other one, the extra ‘non-exister’?”

She was exactly right. Mei’s insight was just as sharp as it had been three summers ago.

“She…how do I put this…she seems a little unreliable.”

“How so?”

“Uhhh…”

I couldn’t find a good way of putting it in the moment, so I briefly changed the subject.

“Mei, what was it like when you were a ‘non-exister’?”

“Huh?”

“You asked me the same thing earlier, but…was it lonely? Did it get to you?”

She answered me flatly. “No, nothing like that. Just like you, I was fine. I accepted the role because I thought I would probably be okay with it.”

“Ah…but—”

“I’ve always liked being alone, so it was pretty easy, actually.”

“And did you only have to follow the guidelines for ‘non-existers’ during school?”

“That was the rule, apparently.” Mei wrapped her cup in both hands and slurped up a mouthful of tea. “But I spent most of my time outside of class as a ‘non-exister,’ too. It was simpler like that and easier to keep straight. I didn’t have any close friends in my class anyway,” she said, smiling faintly. She really didn’t seem bothered by it.

“What about Sakakibara?” I asked without thinking. “Weren’t you friends with him?”

Mei smiled faintly again. At the word special, I felt a momentary pang in my chest that I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but I kept quiet and nodded.

“How about you, Sou?” Mei asked me. “Do you switch between school and the rest of your life without issue?”

“Switch…? Yeah, I guess so. I’m trying to do a good job one way or another, but it sure is a pain… I feel like there’s a chance I might get confused and do something careless. So I’m trying not to have too much contact with my classmates, even outside of school.”

“Do you have any good friends in your class?”

“I’m not like you,” I answered deliberately. I meant it as a joke.

“Hmm. I see,” she responded, staring me directly in the face as she folded her arms gently across her chest. “Sou, you’ve totally grown up, haven’t you? In these two and a half years since coming to Yomiyama.”

“Ah…no, I don’t—”

Grown up? I guess I have, maybe?

Unlike before, I was doing okay going to school and interacting with other people while I was there. I even had a number of friends, and things were going pretty well with the people in the Akazawa household.

But can this really be called “growth”?

My sense was that my core personhood hadn’t really changed much. That feeling was especially strong when I was chatting with Mei like this.

I had overtaken her in height these past three years, but that was only an outward difference, and internally I was the same as ever… When we’d met, Mei had been both taller and more mature than I was and had seemed more thoughtful about the future. That dynamic hadn’t changed much now. So certainly, I was…

“I don’t think you need to worry too much about Hazumi—about the ‘second non-exister.’” Whether she knew what I was thinking or not, Mei finally spoke. “Not even if, for instance, she started to hate the idea of ‘not existing’ and eventually decided to abandon the role.”

“I think it’ll be all right.”

“Will it?”

“As long as you at least maintain your role as a ‘non-exister,’ it will.”

She pressed her lips together and stroked her eye patch in a diagonal motion with the middle finger of her left hand.

“By designating someone as the ‘non-exister,’ we can account for a ‘casualty’ appearing in the class and keep the roster at its original number. That way, balance is maintained. That’s the original meaning of the ‘countermeasures’—they’re a charm. As long as you do your job, the class should still be protected from ‘accidents.’”

“Right.”

I nodded meekly.

As long as Mei thinks it’s all right.

Yeah, if she says so, it will definitely be all right. On that summer day three years ago, she swooped in and rescued me from the chaotic situation I was stuck in. The things she says are always correct. She’s been right before. So she must be this time, too…

“However,” Mei continued, “once Hazumi abandons her role, she will revert to ‘existing.’ If that happens, you’ll have to be diligent about playing the role of the ‘non-exister’ around her as well. You should be careful about that.”

“Yes.”

Although we were fellow “non-existers” at the moment, I’d still decided to make it a policy not to interact with her during school.

Seems like my hunch wasn’t that far off the mark.

Just then, a tune that was in a totally different register than the music playing throughout the gallery rang out.

“Ah…” Mei let loose a yelp. Flustered in a way that I had rarely seen, she stretched a hand out toward the cell phone that was sitting atop her paperback on the edge of the table.

Her ringtone?

She glanced at the display.

“Sorry, just a second…,” she told me, standing up from the sofa, putting the phone to her ear, and answering. “Yes?”

“Do you need some more tea?” Grandma Amane asked me.

“Oh, I’m fine. Thank you, it was delicious.”

I wonder who called her?

A high school friend? Or maybe Kirika?

Now that I thought about it, I realized that I didn’t really know anything that had happened in Mei’s life after she’d graduated middle school and started at a public high school. Aside from the fact that she was still in the art club anyway. I didn’t know what kind of friends she had or if she had a “special someone” like a boyfriend…nothing.

When she came back inside after two or three minutes, Mei apologized again, then sat back down on the sofa. I tried to catch a glimpse of her expression, but it looked to me like nothing had really changed from earlier.

“You’re currently living alone, right, Sou?” she asked, placing the cell phone back on top of the book where it had been before.

“Uh, yes.” I was a little flustered, but I explained, “I am, but the Akazawa house is right next door, and I’m relying on my aunt for meals and laundry just like I always have.”

“And the place you’re living also belongs to the Akazawas?”

“Natsuhiko…the second son owns the apartment building, and they just so happened to have a room open, so…”

“Hmm…” Mei mumbled quietly, “Akazawa, huh…?” She tapped her forehead with a fingertip and tilted her head, but soon she looked back at me and asked, “Could I come and visit sometime soon?”

“Huh?” I was getting increasingly anxious. “Ummm, well…”

“You have that doll that Sakaki used to have, don’t you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I want to see that, too. Okay?”

As I was struggling to give her a clear “yes” or “no” answer…

“We’d better be wrapping it up for today,” Mei announced, standing. “If anything happens, I’ll e-mail you. Or I’ll call if it’s urgent.”

“Okay. Um, Mei?” Suddenly, I got the urge to confirm something.

“What?”

“Mm…” I glanced down at the thing on the table as she answered, “Yes, I do still think they’re awful devices.”

After that, just as I was leaving—

The moment I opened the door and stepped outside alone…I turned to look behind me. In the dusky, gloomy gallery, Mei was standing beside the sofa where she had been seated, watching me leave. And what’s more—

With her left hand, she slowly removed the eye patch covering her left eye. I tried to determine what color it was beneath the patch. But I couldn’t make it out in the low light.

4

“Hey, Sou!”

A familiar greeting from the mouth of a familiar guy.

“I just couldn’t seem to get a hold of you, so I decided to barge in.”

It was Nobuyuki Yagisawa.

He was about a head taller than I was, with a lanky build. He was wearing bleached, distressed jeans and a red hoodie, and his hair was as disheveled as always. The whole getup made him look pretty shady, especially with his round, lightly tinted glasses. That was generally how I would describe him, actually—a very suspicious-looking middle schooler.

Apparently, he was obsessed with fashion, but I just didn’t get it, even after he explained it to me. Personally, I thought that if he ditched the lenses, styled his hair normally, and maybe shaved the scraggly tuft growing out of his chin, he would be a pretty conventionally attractive guy.

After leaving the gallery in Misaki, I’d dropped by the bookstore for a little while before returning to the Freuden Tobii. I’d just put my bike back in storage and stepped into the building’s entrance hall when Yagisawa had approached me.

“You came out here just to visit me?” I asked incredulously.

It took twenty or thirty minutes on the bus to get here from where he lived. I wondered if he’d had something else to do if I wasn’t home, seeing as he’d come late on a Sunday without prior notice.

“Okay, come on in!”

A voice crackled over the intercom set beside the auto-locking inner doors.

Hmm? That voice…

“I asked Akazawa to let me in,” Yagisawa explained. “I called her and asked if you were here. And then she went and looked in your room… You seemed to be out, but she said that if you weren’t back by the time I got here, you probably wouldn’t be gone too much later and that I could wait for you. She said she could give me a place to wait.”

“Give you a place to wait…”

I guess that means in Izumi’s room?

I didn’t know that she and Yagisawa were such close friends. Well, it’s none of my business, is it?

“Sou just got home,” he announced to the intercom.

Izumi responded, “Ah, okay then…”

“All right,” I jumped in. “Since you came all the way out here, want to come up?”

“Yeah,” Yagisawa answered, stroking his sparse goatee as he broke into an innocent smile.

5

“Must be nice, living in a room like this all by yourself,” Yagisawa remarked, looking around at my empty one-bedroom after taking the seat I offered him at the table. “You said that Mr. Akazawa owns the whole apartment building?”

“Yeah. The family home where I’ve been staying is being renovated—they started this month. So they’re letting me live here while that’s happening.”

“I think a lively home sounds nice, though.”

I was halfway telling the truth with that answer. The thought of a normal environment, with parents and older sisters and little brothers all together under a single roof did inspire a bit of jealousy in me.

I opened the mini fridge I’d brought down from Izumi’s older brother’s room the day before and took out two cans of juice. I handed one to Yagisawa as I sat down in my own chair.

“So?” I fixed my eyes on his face. “What brings you here again so suddenly?”

“We haven’t really had a proper chat since school started, have we? I understand your thinking, but things feel a little distant between us.”

“Do they?”

“They do. We’re supposed to be comrades here.”

Of course, I understood exactly what Yagisawa meant by comrades. He was saying that we were more than simple Grade 3 classmates. Nevertheless—

“Well, that’s true, but circumstances are what they are,” I answered as calmly as possible. “I don’t think that we can be friends, not like before, even when we’re not at school.

“A year is a long time, you know. If we let our guards down and inadvertently say something to each other during class… I mean, I want to eliminate that risk.”

“I heard all this earlier, about your policy.”

“Well, don’t call me distant, then,” I appealed to him, my expression earnest. “Now that we know this is an ‘on year,’ we’ve all got to make our best efforts. Right?”

“Ah…I guess that’s true—”

“Will it be weird? If I’m a rep?”

“I honestly did a double take when I heard.”

“Hmm, I can see that.” Yagisawa raked his fingers through his long hair. “I was so optimistic that this year was going to be an ‘off year,’ but once we realized that it was going to be an ‘on year,’ you know, something about my frame of mind just changed.”

“Meaning what?”

“I’ve never once been class rep, so I figured I’d give it a try now. Worse comes to worst, this could be the last year of my life, after all.”

“So you’ve swung abruptly over to pessimism, huh?” I responded, filled with a complicated mix of feelings. “It’s not set in stone that the ‘countermeasures’ will fail and the ‘accidents’ will start. And even if they do happen, that doesn’t mean you’re going to die.”

“Well, yeah, that’s true, but…”

Exactly at that moment, the sound of someone knocking on the door of <E-9> echoed through the room. I answered, “Yes?” as it swung open.

“Mind if I come in?” Stepping inside was none other than Izumi Akazawa. “Or are you in the middle of a boys-only secret meeting?”

“No, no, come on in.”

This wasn’t even his apartment, but Yagisawa stood up from his chair and invited her in.

“We had these upstairs, so I brought some over,” Izumi told us, setting a white paper bag on the table. “Refreshments!”

Inside the bag were three large cream puffs.

“Whoa! Don’t mind if I do!” Yagisawa immediately reached out to grab one. When he’d already snarfed down about half of it, he abruptly stopped, then mumbled, “Class representative…she was a rep in Class 3 fourteen years ago, too…”

Izumi, who hadn’t been privy to our previous conversation, tilted her head in confusion.

“Yeah.” He hung his head and nodded. “That’s why I thought I’d volunteer. Though, logically, something like that shouldn’t mean anything.”

“What are you talking about?” Izumi asked, looking back and forth between the two of us. “Yagisawa’s aunt was in Grade 3 Class 3 at North Yomi fourteen years ago? Then maybe she knew your…she knew Teruya Sakaki?”

“Right,” I answered. “They were classmates in ’87. My uncle Teruya and Yagisawa’s aunt.”

Not long after I’d met Yagisawa in our first year of middle school, I’d realized this point in common between us. Both of our relatives—my uncle, his aunt—were former members of the same Class 3 at our school. As “comrades,” they’d witnessed the “phenomenon” and the “accidents” it caused firsthand.

Uncle Teruya, my mother’s brother, had been seriously injured in the so-called “tragedy of ’87” but managed to survive. Before the start of summer vacation, he had moved out of Yomiyama City and transferred schools. In doing so, he’d escaped from the “accidents.” On the other hand, Yagisawa’s aunt, his father’s sister, who was classmates with Teruya, had died of a sudden illness partway through the second semester.

Ever since we’d confirmed this, a camaraderie of sorts had developed between Yagisawa and me.

What if we end up in Class 3 when we’re in third grade…? We’d always discussed the possibility, even way back in our first year of middle school, but we never thought it would actually turn out like this. Back then, I don’t think even I’d really been able to fully comprehend the reality of the situation.

“She was pretty, you know. Risa,” Yagisawa remarked.

Her full name was Risa Yagisawa.

“It happened fourteen years ago, so I’d just been born. Naturally, I don’t have any memories of her to speak of. But when I look at old photos of her, I can see she was really pretty…”

Following her gaze, Yagisawa also turned his head to look at the bookshelf. Naturally, his eyes also came to rest on the problem picture. I was already bracing myself.

Can I let him see it? Can I let him realize the truth?

“What’s…?” He left his chair and looked closely at the photo. “Hey, Sou, what’s this photo?”

The photograph was of the 1987 Class 3 students who’d temporarily “escaped” to Lakeshore Manor in Hinami over summer vacation. Aside from Teruya, there were four students in the picture. Among them was a girl standing to the far right and holding her long hair down so the wind wouldn’t mess it up. Her surname was Yagisawa. I’d always been aware of that.

“I never found the right time to break this to you, but…”

Then I told Yagisawa what I knew.

Fourteen years earlier, summer break.

Teruya had invited his friends to Lakeshore Manor, which was outside of Yomiyama City and therefore “out of range” of the “calamity.” There, they’d found a temporary reprieve from the horror of the “accidents.” And the photograph they all took together during that trip was here with me…

“Why?” Yagisawa asked with a sulky frown. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this until now?”

“Well, I…,” I began, averting my eyes from him. “After their trip to the lake, Teruya ended up surviving because he ran away from Yomiyama. But everyone else went back after summer break was over, and your aunt lost her life. I think that Teruya probably felt awful, right up until when he died three years ago, about the fact that he was the only one who escaped and lived. I think he always blamed himself—so…”

“So it was hard to talk about?”

“Mm-hmm.” I nodded slightly. “Sorry.”

I couldn’t really say anything in response.

After a little while, Yagisawa remarked, “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” He smiled cheerfully. “Even if it was just during summer vacation, I’m glad they could find a chance to relax. Risa looks so happy in this photo—doesn’t she, Sou?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I’d like to go sometime, too, to this Lakeshore Manor place.”

“Uh…”

Despite his enthusiasm, I just couldn’t bring myself to confirm Yagisawa’s request.

6

“Yagisawa, I’m looking forward to working with you, okay?” Izumi said, trying to dispel the delicate silence that had filled the room. “I’m a countermeasures officer, and you’re a class representative. Let’s do our best to make sure that our ‘countermeasures’ go well this year so that everyone can graduate safely.”

“Y-yeah.” Yagisawa seemed quite overwhelmed. “Now that you bring it up, I don’t really have any idea how I’m supposed to do that, though.”

“Generally speaking, what we can do is pay very close attention to Sou and Hazumi, to make sure they keep acting invisible.”

“I know what I’m supposed to do,” I interjected. “I’m being very careful.”

“I think you’re probably fine, Sou. But if we’re going to have a problem, it’s definitely going to be with Hazumi.”

“Yeah, she’s right.” Yagisawa nodded, placing a fingertip on the bridge of his glasses. “I’m also a little bit worried about Hazumi. Say, Sou?” He turned to me. “Don’t you think you’re a little cold toward her?”

“You weren’t aware of it?”

“I’m not really trying to be.”

“No, no. But I mean, as far as I can tell, you’re not being particularly friendly, either. But the two of you are fellow ‘non-existers.’ I wonder if it would be better to spend more time together during breaks and stuff, even at school.”

After I reemphasized my policy of avoidance and the logic behind it, Yagisawa crossed his arms. “Mm-hmm… I understand your reasoning, but you know, I wonder if she’ll be all right? The way I see it, Hazumi probably—”

“It’s fine.”

I spoke more decisively than necessary, in order to cut off the next thing Yagisawa was about to say. I recalled my conversation earlier in the day with Mei Misaki at the “Blue Eyes…” gallery.

“It’ll be fine. I know she’ll do great, no matter what happens. I’ll make sure of it.”

As we walked, she spoke about herself bit by bit.

Thanks to her parents’ occupations, there was often no one in the house when she came home from school. She wasn’t on particularly bad terms with them, but to make a long story short, they were pretty hands-off with their daughter.

“To put it bluntly, they’re neglectful. But you know, I guess it’s easier that way.”

After she said that, Hazumi flashed me a carefree smile, but I wondered how she really felt about it. If Mei Misaki had given me the same line, for instance, I’m sure I wouldn’t have doubted her at all.

Hazumi told me she had a brother five years older than her.

The year before, he’d graduated from high school and entered the law program at a university in Tokyo, so he was far from Yomiyama. His aspiration was to pass the bar exam and become a lawyer. He sounded like a hard worker. According to Hazumi, something about me reminded her of him, apparently…

“Do you have any siblings, Sou?”

I made a deliberate effort to answer indifferently.

“I have a younger sister in elementary school. She’s at my mom’s house in Hinami.”

I didn’t go out of my way to mention that she and I had different fathers or explain that she was the product of my mother’s second marriage.

“What’s her name?”

“Hmm?”

“Your sister’s name?”

“Ah…Mirei.”

“Is she cute?”

“…Not really.”

“So you’re living in the same apartment building as Izumi Akazawa now, right?” Hazumi asked abruptly that Friday morning.

“For the time being, I need to, yeah,” I answered without hesitation. “I’m planning to go back to my uncle’s place, where I was staying before.”

“But you’re in the same building for now. I heard you both are on the same floor—is that true?”

“Uh, yeah.”

I wonder who she heard that from? Probably from someone she’s kept up a close friendship with outside of school. Or maybe… No, it doesn’t matter. That’s not really information I need to hide.

“Does that mean you talk to her every day?”

“Uh…I guess? I wouldn’t say it’s every day, but…”

“Even though we’re better off avoiding contact with classmates as much as possible, even outside of school?”

The moment she posed the question, I sensed a small prickle in her voice.

“Izumi Akazawa is my cousin.”

After I replied, I looked over at Hazumi, walking beside me. She was keeping her eyes straight forward.

“Hmm,” she reacted in a tone that sounded deliberately cool, then continued. “Do you have any special feelings about her?” she asked.

“Huh?” Surprised by her inquiry, I turned to her again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean…you know.” Hazumi brushed back her chest-length hair with the hand that wasn’t holding her bag. “Do you like her? Do you dislike her?”

“Ummm…if you’re going to put it that way, then I think my answer is that I ‘like’ her, but…”

At that point, I’d caught on to why she was asking. To be honest, this was an area of weakness for me, in which I had a real dearth of experience. And my perspective at the moment was, I really thought that now wasn’t the time, so I quickly pushed those thoughts out of my mind.

I added that comment in an attempt to end the conversation there. But Hazumi wouldn’t let up.

“Cousins can get married, you know,” she remarked. She continued looking straight ahead, just like before. And though it might have been my imagination, I thought I heard that small prickle in her voice again.

Ah, geez… I tried not to let my distress show on my face or in my voice.

I suck at this. Having this kind of conversation with a girl is a pretty big, no, enormous blind spot for me.

I wonder how a normal guy in his third year of middle school would handle this. Like Yagisawa, for example. Or like Shunsuke Kouda (though he doesn’t seem like a great role model). Or like, yeah, like Koichi Sakakibara when he was in Grade 3…

Pondering this resulted in a several-seconds-long, unnatural silence.

Hazumi let out a slightly flustered “ah, um…,” stopped walking, and looked at me. Her cheeks were slightly red, and her eyes seemed a bit panicked. She had pretty, grown-up features, but her expression threw them out of balance, making her seem like a lost little girl.

All right. Let’s keep going and transition away from this topic…

I thought for a moment.

“You know, Sou…” Hazumi gazed at me with dark eyes framed by long eyelashes. Her expression had completely transformed; now she was wearing an impish smile. Impish, but somehow more suited for her grown-up features. “When you volunteered to be the ‘non-exister,’ I—”

“Oh, a kingfisher!”

Just then, I shouted, interrupting Hazumi. Pointing, I took a step or two toward the bank.

“Look, right there. It’s hovering.”

It was just about in the middle of the river, slightly closer to our side. There, a bird was strenuously flapping its wings about three meters off the water’s surface. It had vivid lapis-blue wings, an orange breast, and a fairly long bill for its small body.

This beautiful, nonmigratory bird, whose name was sometimes spelled with the Japanese character for jade, inhabited every region of the country, but this was my first time witnessing the spectacle of one hovering over this river in Yomiyama. Without thinking, I put together my thumbs and index fingers to form an imaginary viewfinder. Quietly pacing forward, I closed the imaginary shutter several times.

“Aw, come on…,” I heard Hazumi say behind me.

The kingfisher plunged into the water for a moment, then emerged triumphant, having captured its fishy prey. I expressed secret feelings of gratitude to him (probably a “him,” based on the color of the beak) as I clicked my imaginary shutter closed again and again.

2

The following day, Saturday, April 21, just before noon—

I submitted a notice of absence to the school and went to visit the “clinic” at the municipal hospital. I had ended up canceling last week’s appointment and had been allowed to reschedule it for today, one week later.

The clinic was located on the spacious general hospital campus, which took up practically the entire face of Yumigaoka Mountain. The section housing medical offices was in the front and had been undergoing major remodeling work since the previous year. Together with the adjacent inpatient ward, they comprised the “main building.” Behind it and a little separate stood a small, old structure, the “annex.” The department that I went to was in there.

Long ago, Tsukiho had lost her first husband—my father, that is—to suicide. I’d heard it described as a “death resulting from mental illness.” Additionally, there was the incident with Uncle Teruya three years ago. In that light, I imagined that she thought I was likely to do the same… Despite my blood relationship to both of them, however, I wasn’t that worried, myself. And yet—

When I stood before the annex building, I did start feeling a little gloomy sometimes.

It was an unadorned four-story building made of reinforced concrete. Iron bars lined all the tiny windows of the rooms above the second story. Ivy climbed a few sections of the dingy walls. It was obviously a dreary place, and it had a slightly eerie air.

When I’d inquired about them, however, the staff told me that the rooms in the hospital annex weren’t currently being used to house psychiatric patients. Apparently, the facility had fallen too far into disrepair. Patients with serious illnesses, the ones who required restraining measures, had already been transferred to a new specialty ward in a different area. This whole structure was slated to be demolished in the near future.

“Hello, Sou. You’re a third-year already, right?” I entered the examination room to find Dr. Usui, my attending physician, addressing me from across the room in his usual polite way. “Our last meeting was in early February, huh?”

Looking over at my chart on the desk, he asked, “How are you doing? Has anything changed in the last two months or so?”

This was the psychiatrist who I’d been seeing ever since coming to Yomiyama.

He was probably a little under forty. He had the build of a judo athlete and a big, square face. Jet-black whiskers were growing around his mouth, on his cheeks, and on his chin. That made him look a little frightening at first glance, but his small eyes that were fixed on me always held a calm, gentle light.

“Are you sleeping well at night?”

“Yes.”

“Without needing sleeping medication?”

“Yes. I’m usually all right without taking any.”

“And are you having nightmares?”

“I’m… Sometimes.”

“But the frequency has decreased compared to before, correct?”

“Yes.”

This doctor had examined me shortly before Tsukiho’s husband—my stepfather, Shuuji Hiratsuka—wrote a referral placing me into the Akazawas’ care. At that time, my mental condition had been unstable due to the shock from that incident three years ago.

Though I was doing fine intellectually, the reality was that I was suffering certain symptoms. Insomnia. Nightmares. The anxiety, fear, confusion, and sense of helplessness that sometimes rushed in on me even when I was awake. The heart palpitations, sweating, and stifled breathing that accompanied those feelings.

Post-traumatic stress disorder, PTSD.

I didn’t really want to lump everything together under that title, but even though I’d voiced my objection, Dr. Usui had still handed down the diagnosis. However, since my condition wasn’t as serious as it sounded, there was no need to be overly worried.

I remembered him telling me: “The most important thing is that you’re the one who will be responsible for your own recovery, Sou. I’m just here to help you out a little bit.”

Considering my stepfather had introduced me to him, I was initially wary of Dr. Usui. But gradually, we’d been able to develop a relationship that made me feel as if I could trust him…and as a result, my symptoms greatly improved after about a year. He’d prescribed me various medications in the beginning as well, but now I was mostly able to get by without them.

“Not much. Once at the start of the month.”

“By phone?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have a proper conversation?”

“No. I just listened to the message she left.”

“Have you called her?”

“I haven’t.”

“You don’t want to speak to her?”

“Yeah…that’s right. Not really…”

“You don’t want to see her, either?”

“…………”

“Do you actually want to see her?”

“…………”

“You can say what you’re really feeling here, Sou.”

“I don’t know.”

“Is that so? Hmm.” The doctor blinked his small eyes and gave another “mm-hmm.”

Then he said, “I am also aware, generally, of the special circumstances of the Hiratsuka household. Considering your position, it’s no wonder you have complicated feelings about your mother. Try not to worry too much over the presence of those feelings themselves. All right?”

I nodded obediently. “All right.”

3

Apparently, I was Dr. Usui’s last patient for the day. When I left the examination room, there was no one else in the waiting area.

“Here you go.” Ms. Kikuchi, a nurse who I recognized, handed me some documents to submit at the cashier window. Just as she did, a small figure tried to slip past me, headed for the door of the examination room.

After spinning around to say “hello” to me in a small voice, she opened the exam room door without knocking, then disappeared inside.

“That’s Dr. Usui’s daughter,” Ms. Kikuchi told me, seeing my confusion. She let out a low chuckle. “She always stops by here when she’s on her way home from school on Saturday. They eat lunch together, and then she drags him home. Is this the first time you’ve met her, Sou?”

“Uh, yes,” I answered, imagining Dr. Usui’s hairy face wrinkling up in a huge smile the second his daughter entered the room. “They must be very close, huh?”

“Her mother passed away young,” Ms. Kikuchi told me, lowering her voice a little. “He’s been a single father ever since. It’s just adorable to see the doctor with her. And she’s actually quite clever and cute, too…”

Later, I would learn that the girl’s name was Kiha. She attended the second grade at a nearby public elementary school.

4

It had been overcast since morning that day, and as I left the hospital annex, rain started pouring. Normally, I would have gone around to the front entrance from outside to get to the first-floor lobby in the medical offices building, where the cashier’s window was located. This time, however, I walked down the connecting passage (that is to say, a walkway with a roof and walls) to avoid the rain and entered the main hospital building from the back. The primary building and the annex were connected by a similar sky bridge on the third floor as well.

As I walked slowly down the mazelike hallways, a result of the many piecemeal expansions made to the hospital over the years, a thought occurred to me.

I’d heard that it happened not long after he moved here from Tokyo. The night before he was supposed to start school at North Yomi as a transfer student, he’d had a sudden onset of spontaneous pneumothorax and had been hospitalized. What a miserable experience.

He seemed totally healthy by the time I got to know him, but it was crazy to think that a hole had once opened in one of his lungs and caused it to collapse. I could only imagine the fear and pain he’d felt at the time.

I wonder where in this hospital his sick room was…

I was idling down the corridor, glancing here and there at my surroundings. Just then—

With a low, reverberating thud, the world went pitch-black for a second. But it was really only a second.

Suddenly, a fact related to my previous thought surfaced from my memory.

Speaking of “hospitalization,” there’s a student who has been on leave from school since the start of the month due to illness. Come to think of it, they’re in Class 3. I don’t know all the details, but I heard that they needed to be hospitalized for a while, so coming to school would be difficult—now, when did I hear that? Oh yeah, I think it was from Izumi. That student—her name was something like Makino or Makise, maybe…

When I finally made it to the lobby of the medical offices building, the cell phone inside my jacket buzzed with a call.

The first face that appeared in my mind’s eye was Hazumi’s. She’s probably concerned about the conversation we had when we met up yesterday. The second option, though I doubted it would be her, was Mei Misaki…

Or so I’d thought, but—

I looked at the display and gasped. The call was coming from Tsukiho.

Naturally, I remembered my earlier conversation with Dr. Usui, and despite some trepidation, I pressed the answer button this time around.

This was the first time I’d heard my mother’s voice in a long while. Before she could continue speaking, I said, “I’m doing just fine. And I’m going to the clinic regularly.”

“—I’m sorry, Sou.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s fine.”

“But really, you know, I want to be there for you…”

“The Akazawas are doing a great job. I’m all right as is.”

“Ah…but…”

“Don’t worry.”

“…………”

“Bye, then. I’m hanging up.”

I really was going to stop the conversation like this, but when I said so, Tsukiho blurted out, “I’m coming to see you next month,” as if trying to keep me from stopping. Then she continued. “I haven’t seen your face in so long, and I need to give my regards to Sayuri and her husband…so it’s set, next month.”

That’s really okay—you don’t need to come.

I was about to reject the idea right then and there, but I paused briefly and recalled Dr. Usui’s words from earlier. “It’s no wonder you have complicated feelings about your mother.”

“Mm.” After another short pause, I answered briefly, “Got it. See you.”

I hung up, and after I had completed my payment at the cashier’s window in the lobby, I left the hospital, still unable to shake my sense of gloom and uncertainty. Nevertheless, I passed through the automatic doors in the front entrance, stopping to look at the rain that was still coming down.

“Well then.”

Suddenly, my eyes came to rest on the figure of a middle-aged woman, holding her semitransparent plastic umbrella closed as she entered the hospital with a sluggish gait. Taken aback, I tried to get another look at her face, but when I turned around, all I saw was her back. However—

She didn’t seem to notice me, but was that…

…Kirika?

She must have come here because she was feeling unwell. I’d been able to see her for only a moment, but somehow, I could tell that she wasn’t in great shape…

I was curious, but we weren’t on close-enough terms for me to run after her and confirm.

On Sunday, I’d gone to the “Blue Eyes…” gallery and seen Mei Misaki for the first time in two months. For some reason, the image of her with her left eye covered by an eye patch as it had been before came to my mind. A sense of vague apprehension, the true character of which I couldn’t place, gradually spread through me…

I stepped out alone into the unceasing downpour.

5

It had been about two weeks since I started sleeping in unit <E-9> of the Freuden Tobii—

Before my move, we decided that I would stop by the Akazawa house for breakfast each morning and then continue to school. Auntie Sayuri was always fussing over me, just as she had from the start. She would ask things like, “Are you sure you’re not lonely up there by yourself?” Each and every day, she also had a lunch box for me, ready to go. On my way back from school, I usually returned to my room in the apartment building first, then went to the Akazawas’ in time for dinner. When I went over, I took my laundry with me. You could hardly call this lifestyle “independent living.”

The renovation work on the house had begun. I heard it was progressing slower than they’d planned, but in spite of that, a section of the old wooden house had already been demolished and was now covered in blue tarps. The room I’d been using before moving into the apartment had been converted into a storage space for all the furniture and stuff that would be in the way during the project.

Most of the construction noise happens during the day on weekdays, so there isn’t really a need for me to go to the trouble of “escaping” to the apartment, is there?

Or at least that’s what I’d thought when I’d first heard about it. Now that construction was underway, however, I could see that it was actually making the whole place feel unsettled. Since I would be preparing for high school this year, I was grateful that my aunt and the rest of the family had been so considerate by insisting that I move out.

Once, when the end of the fourth week in April was drawing near, I encountered Izumi in the primary Akazawa house. She was there to visit our grandfather, Hiromune Akazawa, together with her mother, Mayuko. I just happened to be there at the same time.

Grandfather’s health had been poor since the end of last year.

He was seventy-eight years old and had seemed healthy and energetic for his age, but one day he carelessly took a fall down the stairs. Though his injuries weren’t life-threatening, he did break his right leg and hip. After being hospitalized for a little over a month, he’d stubbornly refused a transfer to a rehabilitation hospital, instead opting to recuperate at home. Apparently, he hated the hospital so much, he couldn’t stand it any longer; just being there sapped his willpower to grapple with rehabilitation.

As a result of his obstinance, however, his broken bones were slow to recover, especially his hip… Since he still couldn’t get up by himself and walk around, he spent most of his time sleeping. That held true even now. The doctor’s verdict was that if things continued as they were, he would probably need to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair. At that point—

The Akazawas had decided to take advantage of the situation to remodel their old home, which originally had many different levels, narrow doorways, and so on.

“Grandpa doesn’t seem to be in a very good mood, of course,” Izumi whispered in my ear.

She had come out alone from the tatami room in the back where he was staying, leaving Auntie Sayuri and her mother, Mayuko, behind, to find me alone in the front sitting room… That’s what was going on.

“Sure…yeah.”

“He’s never really liked me, has he?” Izumi frowned, revealing a somewhat lonely expression. “He was always worrying about my big brother, but he was cold toward me, or at least not very interested or whatever.”

“I wonder if he didn’t know how to handle girls?”

I made a timid attempt at backing up our grandfather, but Izumi kept frowning and didn’t say anything in response. Sighing, she gulped down some tea from one of the bottles that had been set out on the table.

Our grandfather was certainly difficult to please. And it seemed like that quality had been intensifying ever since he’d broken those bones, to the point that it made me suspect he might be going a little senile. Auntie Sayuri had been taking care of him without complaint, but Mayuko rarely showed her face in the house, despite living close by. She was probably just as fed up with him as Izumi.

Personally, I’d never gotten that bad of an impression of our grandfather. I’d first met him when the Akazawas took me in two and a half years earlier. Back then, he’d fixed his gaze on me, then said softly, “Sou…you’re Fuyuhiko’s boy?”

The look in his eyes as he spoke to me had seemed both achingly sad and also kind.

I hadn’t heard much from him since then, but I’m sure that his heart was still full of grief and longing for his third son, who’d passed away young, ahead of his own father. When he gazed at my face, those feelings had naturally begun to pour out… At least, that’s what I imagined was going on. Anyway, as far as I knew, for as long as I could remember, that was a “look” that I couldn’t recall experiencing much before.

“Something…about class?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Is there a…problem?”

“Kind of… Have you been talking to Hazumi lately?”

“Ah…a little,” I answered vaguely.

“How’s she doing? From your perspective.”

“Ummm…well—”

As I was struggling to respond, Sayuri and Mayuko came into the sitting room, interrupting our conversation. Izumi leaned forward over the table.

“Anyway, we’ll talk later,” she whispered, bringing her face close to my ear.

It was April 27, a Friday. The following day would be the 28th, the fourth Saturday of the month. It was both a school holiday and the first day of a three-day break, which included the 29th and 30th. But the night before the break, something happened.

6

When I got back to the Freuden Tobii after dinner, I found a memo stuck to the door of my apartment. It was in Izumi’s handwriting.

She had her own room, unit <E-1> on the fifth level, same floor as me. But as far as I could remember, I’d never come over to her place before, even though she’d done the opposite plenty of times. Despite the fact that she was my cousin, she was still a girl, so…I remained quite hesitant, but I figured it would probably be all right.

I waited until the designated time, then rang the doorbell of apartment <E-1>.

“Come on in.”

Her apartment was a one-bedroom, more spacious than my own.

Atop the built-in counter between the kitchen and living room sat a coffee maker, bubbling as it brewed. The scent of shampoo dissolved and disappeared into the fragrance of coffee that hung in the air.

She led me into the living room and offered me a seat on the sofa and, shortly after, a cup of coffee.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” I accepted sincerely, adding milk and sugar before taking a sip. Izumi left hers black and slurped up a mouthful.

“Mm-hmm.” She nodded, looking pleased. “These seem like really good beans.”

“You know about coffee?”

“A little, thanks to my brother’s influence,” she answered. Izumi looked toward the kitchen. “I used to have his favorite blend, but the bag got really old. This is a Hawaiian Kona coffee that I just got yesterday. It’s really high-grade.”

I’m generally pretty indifferent to the flavor of most drinks and food, not just coffee, so I responded with a noncommittal “Wow” and glanced around the room.

It was plainer than I’d imagined for a third-grade middle school girl’s room and didn’t feel very welcoming. I couldn’t see many furnishings or decorations that looked particularly girlie.

The rugs spread on the floor were plain white, and the windows were covered with cream blinds instead of curtains. Next to one of them was a display case with a glass door, the contents of which caught my eye. There appeared to be quite a lot of dinosaur figurines lined up inside.

Hmm? I didn’t know she was interested in that sort of thing.

“Through there is the piano room,” Izumi told me. “It’s been soundproofed, so I can play at night, no problem.”

“Amazing. You’re a real musician!”

Hmm. How luxurious.

Izumi had lamented to me that her parents treated only her brother like “something special,” but she seemed to do pretty well for herself otherwise. Once, she’d told me that “Mama and Papa usually give in to my selfish whims.” Surprisingly, this seemed to be a source of stress, dissatisfaction, or some other negative emotion more than anything else for her. I had all these thoughts and more, of course, but I didn’t let them out of my mouth.

“Are you trying to become a pianist or something in the future?” I asked.

“No, no,” Izumi answered, forcing a smile, “I actually haven’t done much with it lately. I went to play for the first time in a while the other day, and it was all out of tune.”

“Huh…”

“I’ve ended up using that room more for practicing my lines for drama club, I think.”

“Uh-huh.”

Barely reacting, I drained my coffee cup. Izumi asked me if I wanted another, but I declined. She poured herself a second cup from the pot, then finally—

“To get back to our earlier conversation,” she said, broaching the real issue at hand. “How has Hazumi been doing lately? From your perspective.”

7

“That’s…”

Unexpectedly, I found myself at a loss for words at the moment.

“I’d say not much has changed. I guess she’s probably doing all right,” I answered, leaving out any detailed account of the situation.

When I saw her in class, at least, Hazumi continued to flawlessly play the role of the “non-exister” that she’d been assigned. And she didn’t approach or address me during school, either…

“I don’t think she’s having any issues.”

But Izumi mumbled, “Oh?” in a somewhat depressed-sounding voice, before sipping her second cup of coffee. Then she looked up sharply and remarked, “As countermeasures officer, I observe the state of the class every day…and I think that April has gone pretty well. There are three days left, but school is on break. I think you and Hazumi are behaving as you should, and all our classmates and teachers are handling it suitably.”

She was right—the “countermeasures” did seem to be going smoothly. The proof of this was that the end of the month was now approaching without a single “accident.”

“However—” Izumi continued. “Just today, I overheard something a little concerning. I thought I’d better let you in on it, too.”

What could it be?

From the way our conversation was heading, I could surmise that it was something to do with Hazumi.

“I didn’t really know Hazumi until we started our third year,” Izumi said, “so I’m not too familiar with her personality, you know? Because of that, I haven’t decided yet how worried I should be about this.”

“About something to do with her?”

It sounded like some kind of problem had arisen in the one place I wasn’t looking.

“It sounds like Hazumi has a number of good friends. She’s diligently playing the part of a ‘non-exister’ during class, but outside of it…and on the way to and from school, she’s been chatting normally with them.”

“I thought as much.” Izumi nodded. “But you know,” she added, “that in and of itself isn’t an issue. I’m sure that it’s really difficult ‘not existing’ the whole time we’re in class, so I’m glad she has friends to spend time with outside of school. I get that; normally I’d have no reason to blame her. But you know, I learned something from Tsugunaga just today.”

Tsugunaga…that girl who’s a class rep, right? What on earth does she know?

“First, you need to know that Shimamura apparently got injured this past Monday.”

Shimamura was one of the girls in our class who Hazumi was friends with.

“Tsugunaga told me that on the way home from school, Shimamura was walking with Hazumi and another girl named Kusakabe. As the three of them headed down the sidewalk together, a bicycle charged into them from behind and collided with Shimamura.”

“And she was injured? Was it very bad?”

“Her knees and arms got scraped, and she got an awful nosebleed from falling into the ground. The blood wouldn’t stop for a while, which cause a ruckus.”

“Who was riding the bicycle?”

“A middle-aged man, apparently. And he didn’t apologize; he just kept riding off.”

“So it was a malicious hit-and-run, huh?”

“That was the end of the incident with Shimamura, but—” After a short pause, Izumi started up again. “The next day, Kusakabe—”

“Did she get hurt, too, or something?” I asked, anticipating the next part of the story in spite of myself, but Izumi shook her head side to side.

“This time, it wasn’t an injury…”

Tuesday—on the evening of the 14th, Hazumi had rang up Kusakabe. The two of them had a long chat about nothing, like usual. However—

“That means…” As I listened to Izumi’s explanation, I frowned hard. “Did she, by any chance…die?” I asked fearfully. “Kusakabe’s great-grandmother, I mean.”

“She was fine, apparently,” Izumi answered. “She recovered without difficulty and didn’t even need to be hospitalized. But—”

Izumi leaned back against the sofa and listlessly brushed her bangs away, resting her hand on her forehead. She looked like she was checking herself for a fever.

“Tsugunaga told me that since those things happened in quick succession, Shimamura and Kusakabe are scared.”

“Scared?”

“Because both incidents were connected to Hazumi. In Shimamura’s case, she was with her, and in Kusakabe’s, she was on the phone with her…”

…So what does it all mean?

When I thought about it, I vaguely clued in to the point Izumi was making.

In other words… Ah, but that would mean…

“In other words, Sou, Hazumi is the object of their ‘fear,’” Izumi said, voicing the answer I’d been imagining. “They’re thinking that it’s a bad idea to have close contact with her even outside of school, as long as she’s a ‘non-exister.’ That she might be the cause of Shimamura’s injuries and Kusakabe’s great-grandmother’s collapse… They’re convinced that these incidents might be precursors to the ‘calamity.’”

8

“That’s completely unfounded,” I grumbled, feeling half irritated, half exasperated. “I’ve never heard anything about there being a ‘precursor’ or whatever to the ‘accidents.’”

As a countermeasures officer, of course, Izumi had a good grasp on the rules governing the “accidents.” There was no reason for me to explain them to her again.

“I said the very same thing. I told her neither incident had anything to do with the ‘calamity.’” She put her hand on her forehead again and kept speaking. “That Tsugunaga, though, she’s got her own ideas, and she’s much more high-strung about all this than the others, so she gave me a hard time no matter what I tried to tell her. But she did seem to understand me somewhat. The ones I’m really worried about are Shimamura and Kusakabe.”

“What do you mean?”

“According to Tsugunaga, both of them are going to avoid Hazumi from now on. Apparently, they feel that it would be best to avoid getting near her, even outside of school, and not to call her… They think it’s dangerous to be friends with her. I don’t know if Hazumi has realized it yet, but when she finds out, I think she’ll be shocked.”

“Ah…”

“So if this particular set of circumstances means that she ends up isolated, that would be bad, right? I don’t think she’s strong like you, Sou.”

When she said that, I reflexively blurted out, “Strong? Me?”

The bewildered question just rushed out of my mouth. It was the first time anyone had ever called me strong.

“Mm.”

“If Hazumi really does end up isolated, and if she says she’s quitting being a ‘non-exister,’ all the countermeasures we’ve worked so hard to put in place will be for nothing—right?” Izumi’s expression and way of speaking were serious from beginning to end.

I recalled Mei Misaki’s contrasting take—that even if Hazumi was to give up her role, as long as I diligently continued to “not exist,” then there shouldn’t be a problem. But of course, there could be no better option than to continue with the “countermeasures” as originally planned, if possible. That seemed like the best bet.

“That’s why, Sou,” Izumi insisted, still staring into my face, “I think if you could have some sort of talk with Hazumi about this, make sure she’s not suffering too much or getting desperate…”

“Calm her down carefully, is that it?”

“Yeah. That’s what I mean.”

“Got it.”

I answered obediently, but at that moment, something was making me feel uneasy. Hazumi had called my cell phone the night before, but I hadn’t called her back. I’d figured that I hadn’t needed to, since she hadn’t left a voice mail.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” After wavering over what to do for a minute, I went for it. “About Hazumi, um…I wonder what she thinks? About me?”

“Huh?” Izumi tilted her head in confusion but soon seemed to catch my meaning. “Ah, that?” She nodded, looking unconcerned. “Well, let’s see, I’ve had my suspicions from the very beginning, of course.”

“Suspicions?”

“And Yagisawa said something about it the other day, didn’t he? I mean, anyone can see it. She likes you, Sou.”

Well, when you just say it right out loud like that…

The only thing I could think was: What am I gonna do? I don’t really dislike her or think she’s irritating or anything, but… How do I put this? Honestly, I think this isn’t the time for that kind of stuff.

“Did she happen to confess to you or something?” Izumi asked with a much more casual expression this time.

“Ah, no, nothing like that,” I answered, unintentionally averting my gaze from her eyes, which were still locked on to me.

“Hmm.” Izumi crossed her arms. “And what about you?”

“Uh—”

“Hazumi’s pretty…right? She’s not bad-looking at all, is she?”

“—I don’t really think so,” I answered truthfully.

“So do you dislike her, then?”

“—Not really.”

“So you mean you don’t really care either way?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

When it came to romantic feelings, to the question of liking or disliking the girls around me, I still didn’t have any real interest one way or another. I think I probably also had less of a desire to have those emotions than the average person. Naturally, this meant I was a completely ignorant third-grade middle school boy about the finer points of this subject, so…

Narrowing her eyes at me as I awkwardly fumbled to explain as much, Izumi nodded. “Mm-hmm.” Then she pulled both feet up on the sofa and sat cross-legged, tossing her long hair behind her back with both hands.

“In that case, it’s best not to let it weigh on you too much, right?” she said plainly. “It’s a special situation, but I don’t think it would come to anything good if you were to, for example, try to force yourself to match your feelings to hers.”

9

The remaining three days of April passed without incident. As far as I knew, at least.

I was nearly a shut-in, reading alone by myself. I was seized by the idea that I should just stay like this and skip the rest of the school year. My condition had improved greatly since coming to Yomiyama, but I still wasn’t the kind of person who had much energy for dealing with other people. I knew that if I searched the depths of my heart, I would find hidden in there a very real desire to abandon everything and run away.

What if I use Golden Week as an opportunity to escape from this place?

Even that thought had flashed through my mind. Despite the fact that I would have nowhere to go and no place to stay after my breakout.

Though we didn’t meet in person, I did talk to Yagisawa once on the phone.

“Hey, Sou! You feeling good? You must be, right?”

He spoke as carelessly as ever.

“April’s almost over, but starting next month, man, we’ve really got to give it our all!”

“Yeah, guess so,” I answered.

Without delay, Yagisawa continued. “If the loneliness of ‘nonexistence’ ever gets you down, you can come flying into my open arms anytime. As long as it’s after school, there’s no problem, right? If you want, we could even start a band together.”

“Huh?”

“Can you play any instruments, Sou? If you can’t, let’s see…how about practicing percussion or something? You can start with a tambourine or castanets!”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Oh, really? But I think it would be better for your mental health than just holing yourself up and reading books.”

I didn’t get a single call from Hazumi for the rest of the break. What Izumi had told me was weighing on my mind, but in the end, I didn’t reach out to Hazumi, either.

And then, on the 30th, the night of the last day of April—

A little after ten o’clock, when I booted up my laptop on my living room table, I found three new e-mails.

The first one was from Shunsuke Kouda. As usual, it was a report on several things going on with the biology club.

The week before, three first-years had come by wanting to join the club. Two boys and a girl. The e-mail said that these new members were key personnel who would carry the club into the future, so if I happened to meet them in the clubroom, I should treat them kindly and politely…

Why is he going out of his way to give me instructions like that? I wondered.

They had also started keeping a new axolotl in the clubroom, a male, as a successor to Woo after his recent passing. One of the new club members had brought him in, and against all odds, the new creature’s name just happened to also be “Woo.”

Shunsuke was planning to go to the clubroom every day, even during Golden Week. He closed his e-mail with an invitation: “Come along with me if you feel up to it, Sou.”

The second e-mail was from Mei Misaki.

It was the first e-mail I’d gotten from her since the opening ceremony. I recognized her sender name, “Mei M.,” and opened the e-mail, my heartbeat picking up as I did—

Her message was short and to the point as usual, but it did give me a sense of modest relief as well.

I wonder if she was serious about that? Probably just one of those off-the-cuff things.

The third e-mail was another Yomiyama Town News e-mail newsletter. Those were normally sent out twice a month, and the second one for April had already come the previous week. The one today was garnished with a subheading that read, “GW Special Edition.”

And yet, the content of the periodical was the same stuff as always.

A report on a minor “discovery” from a writer who had an interest in researching local history. A column offering miscellaneous tidbits about the “festival” part of the Boys’ Day celebration coming up on the 5th of May. Plus, announcements about various events being held here and there around Yomiyama during the Golden Week holidays. There would be a charity bazaar in Daybreak Forest Park, a used-book fair in the plaza in front of town hall, a public goodwill concert being held somewhere or other, and so on…

I skimmed through it briefly, but none of the articles especially caught my interest.

Except—

At the end of the periodical, there was a section in small type titled, “News from the Editorial Department,” which made an addendum. I read it, thinking nothing of it, and, without meaning to, let out an audible “huh?” But at the time, I didn’t pay any further attention to it.

But you know, Shimamura and Kusakabe seem to have gotten spooked, and neither of them wants to walk home with Hazumi anymore.

Hmm.

What do you think? This is pretty bad, right?

I wonder? I’m not really sure…

Hey, hey, we were right; she does seem dangerous. Hazumi, I mean.

Did something else happen?

You haven’t heard about the accident on the 30th?

Accident? No…

A student at First Yomi died in a motorcycle accident.

First Yomi—the high school?

Yeah, First Yomiyama High School, First Yomi. He was a second-year…

…Apparently, the guy who croaked was a second-year in high school named Nakagawa. He was driving without a license or something.

No, the story was that he was riding on the back of someone else’s motorcycle, and the car turning right blew through the intersection. The driver survived, but Nakagawa got thrown when the bike overturned, and the next car ran him over, crushing him.

Oof, ouch. Are you sure he didn’t join a motorcycle gang or something?

No, no, I don’t think those even exist anymore.

But wow, that’s some bad luck.

Yikes.

Yeah, he was. So you see, I think she might really be unsafe…

…Did you hear? Hazumi went to the wake for the high schooler who died on the motorcycle.

So she really did know him?

They knew each other from way back. Someone said he was the younger brother of her older brother’s best friend or something.

Her older brother…

He’s a college student.

And it was his best friend’s brother? Hmm.

Listen. There’s no way this is a simple coincidence, right?

I wonder…

An injury, a family member collapsing, dying in an accident…and they all happened in quick succession, too.

Are you saying there’s some connection because Hazumi is a “non-exister”?

I think there might be.

But the thing with “non-existers” is only a rule for this class. The dead guy isn’t even related to anyone there.

That’s exactly why I think it might be a possibility.

A possibility…of what?

I think it’s possible that Hazumi might be the “casualty.”

You mean the “extra person” who joined our class in April?

Yeah, exactly.

No way…

I really think she might be it. That’s why bad things keep happening one after another to people around her.

Really?

I don’t know if it’s true or not. Akazawa’s saying it isn’t, but…

…………

…………

At any rate, it’s definitely best not to get too close to her. We’d better treat her like a “non-exister” at all times, even outside of school…

There were a few days of school between the long weekend and the upcoming holidays, and when I’d seen Hazumi on Tuesday, there didn’t seem to be anything unusual about her. But today, I’d noticed that she looked a little depressed. It was also obvious that she had something she wanted to tell me, so I thought we could talk a little on the way home, but—

The minute the bell rang to signal the end of class, she immediately fled the classroom, alone. Later on, I would discover that she’d hurried home so that she could attend Nakagawa’s wake.

“And tomorrow starts another long holiday, huh?” Izumi grumbled, her arms folded across her chest. “It would be nice if those nasty rumors didn’t spread too much over the break, but…”

The night grew late, and Izumi went back to her apartment.

After debating it for a little while, I settled on writing Mei Misaki an e-mail.

Takayuki Nakagawa, the deceased student, had attended First Yomiyama High School (abbreviated “First Yomi”), the same institution Mei went to. They were a grade apart, so I didn’t think it was very likely that she’d known him, but I figured this was something I ought to report to her just in case. That was my reasoning.

I let her know that even though the “countermeasures” shielding us from the “accidents” seemed to be working for the time being, there had nevertheless been a series of unusual incidents surrounding Yuika Hazumi, which had caused a commotion to sweep through our class. I told her about my anxiety concerning this development and that I wanted to ask for her thoughts on it. And so…

A reply came the next afternoon.

2

“Um, Sou, I—”

Hazumi got that far before she cut herself off, revealing shades of indecision. I continued walking down the path parallel to the river at the same pace without doing anything to urge her on.

“Um, Sou?” she started again, coming to a halt. I stopped, too. The sky was full of dark-gray clouds, and a strong breeze from the river was forcing Hazumi to hold down her hair. “I—somehow, I feel like everyone is avoiding me,” she continued.

I’d guessed she might be working up to that topic. About thirty minutes earlier, she’d called me, said she was close by, and asked to see me.

“They’re avoiding you?” I responded in as calm a voice as possible. “When you say everyone, who do you mean? In what way?”

“I mean the kids in our class,” she answered, casting her eyes downward. “I’ve been calling Shimamura and Kusakabe, but they never answer. Even outside of school, they act like they can’t see me, like they don’t know I’m there. When I asked them what was going on, they just turned away.”

Ah, so they’re being that blatant about it?

“And it’s not just those two, either. The other girls, and the boys, too, they’re all doing the same…”

“You’re being treated like you ‘don’t exist’ outside of class? That’s how it feels?”

It was May 6, a Sunday. The afternoon of the last day of Golden Week. It wasn’t even five o’clock yet, but thanks to the cloudy weather, it had already started to get dark, as if the sun was just about to set.

On the 3rd, 4th, and 5th, I had done the same thing I had done for the first half of Golden Week—basically stayed cooped up and reading to pass the time. I’d gotten invitations from Yagisawa and Shunsuke Kouda to go out, but somehow, I hadn’t felt like it, so I’d turned them down every time.

But I’d also been worried about Hazumi all break.

The e-mail I got from Mei Misaki said that as long as I played my part as a “non-exister,” everything would be fine. Mei had been insisting that all along, and my confidence in her was unwavering. Nevertheless, that didn’t mean I wasn’t worried about Hazumi. I wanted our “countermeasures” to be a success, just as we’d originally planned. That was still how I felt.

“Last week, a high schooler named Nakagawa died in a motorcycle accident, as you know.” Resolutely, I began to address the subject. “Did you mention he was an acquaintance of yours? The boy who passed.”

“Uh, that’s—” She cast her eyes downward again. “Mm. It was such sudden news. I was really shocked to hear it.”

“He was the younger brother of a close friend of your brother or something?”

“That’s right. He and the older Nakagawa brother have been close for a long time, so I’ve talked to Takayuki before, too, but I never thought he’d go out in an accident like that…”

She was wearing a light-pink top with a flowy beige skirt. This was my first time seeing Hazumi out of uniform, at least since we’d entered third year.

She bit her lip sadly and let out a deep sigh. Her grief was totally understandable.

“…………”

“Everyone’s scared, you know?”

“Scared…you mean, scared of me?”

“Yeah. I think that’s why they’re avoiding you. They think that having contact with a ‘non-exister’ is dangerous, even outside of class.”

“N-no way…”

“There’s no grounds for it. I mean, I think it’s a wild delusion that completely ignores what we know about the ‘phenomenon’ and the ‘accidents.’ Akazawa, the countermeasures officer, was worried that something like this might happen.”

“It can’t be… I didn’t do anything wrong!” Hazumi’s voice had turned shrill. Her expression was stiff, and her lips trembled slightly. “I did as I was told. I was always careful to act like I ‘don’t exist’ at school! So why is this happening…?”

I couldn’t come up with an answer right away, so I moved one or two steps toward the river. I took a deep breath, feeling the wind that blew across from the opposite bank, carrying the scent of the water with it, before turning back around to face Hazumi.

“It’s all right,” I reassured her. “No matter what everyone thinks, this year’s ‘countermeasures’ are working for now, and there haven’t been any ‘accidents.’ I’m sure that Akazawa and the others will put the gossip to rest for us. So don’t get discouraged; keep doing what you’ve been doing…okay?”

Hazumi’s expression didn’t relax. But after a silence of several seconds, she wiped a few tears from the corners of her eyes, looked up at me imploringly, and…nodded, weakly but decisively.

“Uh…uh, yeah,” I mumbled in answer. Her approach was leaving me totally bewildered.

Putting any further responses on hold, I started down the path again.

Hazumi hurried to catch up with me.

After we’d been walking along like that for a short while, we arrived at the pedestrian-only Izana Bridge. I raised a hand, intending to signal that I would see her later, and kept walking over toward the other side of the bridge. Today, however, Hazumi followed along.

She must want to keep talking or something. Um, now what?

The bridge and its support columns were wooden. The handrail was made of iron, but the coating was wearing off, so it was getting rusty in places. When I was just about halfway across—

“Hey, Sou?” Hazumi called out, stopping me short. “Um…”

“What?”

“About when we held the meeting at the end of March and decided on this year’s ‘non-exister’… We’d discussed this a little before, right? You offered to take on the role of the ‘non-exister,’ but after that, someone asked if that was enough for the ‘countermeasures.’”

“Yeah. We did go over that.”

Everyone had agreed with the suggestion to try having two “non-existers” this year, and then…they ended up choosing the second one by drawing lots with playing cards.

“Why did you accept the role of the ‘non-exister’? I certainly don’t think it’s going to be much fun.”

I remembered asking Hazumi on the way home on the day of the opening ceremony.

“That’s, um, because I drew the joker.”

That’s what she had answered back then.

“If you really didn’t want to do it, I think you could have stubbornly refused during the meeting.”

I think that’s what I said to her. We’d made the decision so suddenly that I doubted anyone would have blamed her too harshly if she’d turned it down.

“Ah—!” Despite myself, I let out a short gasp of surprise.

She looked at me sidelong. “Do you remember? The cards we used?”

I was desperate for an answer.

“We chose the same number of cards as there were people, one of which was a joker… After that, several people shuffled them, but I happened to notice that the corner of the wild card was folded down just a little. When it was my turn to pick, I saw that the bent card was still in the deck, and I…I picked it on purpose.”

“Why…?” I started to ask, then trailed off. I placed a hand on the railing like Hazumi and gazed down at the dark-green river.

“Because,” she answered, “I figured that if you and I were the only ‘non-existers’ in the class, then that would be a very special situation.”

“…………”

“I’ve had my eye on you ever since we were in the same class in our first year of middle school, Sou. I don’t think you ever realized it, though.”

“Uh…n-no.”

“Back then, you were even more—how do I put this—you had an air about you, like you had built up walls around yourself and didn’t let anyone break them down. I never saw you act friendly with anyone other than Yagisawa. And when you were alone, you always sort of looked like your thoughts were off somewhere else.”

“Did I? I don’t really know what I looked like.”

“But I was really curious about you… Somehow I sensed you had a similar aura to you as my big brother.”

I had no idea how to respond.

Did I just receive a love confession?

I recalled what Izumi had said to me in half jest the night before the long holiday.

At the same time, I heard another voice, one that I recalled from many years earlier.

“What does ‘falling in love’ mean?”

“Does it mean when you like someone?”

It was an innocent question that I’d lobbed at my uncle Teruya, whom I idolized, back at Lakeshore Manor during one of my frequent visits. I wondered how he’d responded.

“So you know…” As we looked down at the same river, Hazumi gently leaned her shoulder against mine. “…I’d like you to be friendlier with me. I understand that we can’t hang out together as fellow ‘non-existers’ during school, so…come on—I want to spend more time together in other places. I went to all the trouble of ‘not existing’ with you, after all.”

“Uh, ummm…”

“If we do, I’ll be fine, no matter how much everyone else ignores me. I’ll persevere.”

“Um, when you say…be friendlier, I mean, right now, like, we’re talking together like this, and I don’t really, um…”

“That’s not what I mean.” Hazumi raised her voice a little. She stared straight at me, with that look that was both mature and childish at once, and said, “That’s not it. I…”

I couldn’t take it. I darted my eyes around helplessly. And today of all days, there was no kingfisher hovering above the water.

3

As I continued to puzzle over this unfamiliar situation, something suddenly flashed through my head.

“Sounds like there’s a rumor that Hazumi might be the ‘casualty.’”

“The ‘casualty’…in other words, the ‘extra person’ who appeared in our class in April. They’re saying that Hazumi is the one who’s really dead, and that’s why bad things keep happening around her.”

This was information that Izumi had given me the night before, when she’d come to my apartment again. Apparently, those rumors had been building over the past several days.

But I’d thought it was ridiculous when she told me.

Generally speaking, yes, it was possible for Hazumi to be this year’s “casualty.” But it was hard to believe the girl standing right before my eyes had expired in an “accident” in the past.

Hazumi and I were in the same class in our first year. Since then, she’d developed a slight air of maturity and a reputation for being a “beauty” among the boys in our class. These were memories of mine. Concrete memories.

She was also definitely at the “strategy session” at the end of March. She’d really pulled the joker card when the class was deciding on the “second non-exister” and had made a declaration of intent to accept that result. I could recall how she had looked at the time. It was firmly in my memory.

April was when the “phenomenon” had started, bringing with it the “extra person” who appeared in our class. In March, it shouldn’t have manifested in our world yet, so Hazumi, who’d been chosen as the “second” at the “strategy session,” couldn’t have been the “casualty.” That was how it seemed to me, but…

Things weren’t that simple.

Alteration of records.

Alteration of memories.

That was the most mysterious part of the “phenomenon,” and it made certainty impossible.

Hazumi had been in the same class as I was in first grade. She’d been there at the “strategy session” in March. But what if these very recollections of mine were “false memories” that had already been altered?

What if, as the rumors went, the “extra person,” aka “casualty,” who had slipped into Grade 3 Class 3 this year was none other than Yuika Hazumi, and neither she herself nor any of the people close to her realized it…? If that was true, what then?

Suddenly, the wind picked up force and blew down the river, rustling all the trees running alongside it and all the grasses along the banks. Little waves picked up on the river’s surface below us.

Holding her skirt down with both hands so that it wouldn’t go flying up in the wind, Hazumi lost her balance. I promptly extended both my hands to prop her up by the shoulders. I could feel her body heat through her shirt. Far from what I imagined “the casualty” would feel like, I sensed a warmth that seemed more “alive” than I was.

“Ah—!”

She yelped in surprise, so I pulled my hands away immediately.

“Th-thank you, Sou.”

“Oh…don’t mention it.”

I turned my back on her and continued over the bridge. The wind kept blowing, and the scenery around us grew increasingly gloomy and dim.

“Ah…wait up,” she said, following after. “There’s a little more that I want to…”

I quickened my pace so that she couldn’t catch up to me. Somehow, I got the feeling it wasn’t a good idea to continue our conversation. Not for me, and probably not for her, either. However—

When I was just a few meters from the end of the bridge, it happened. I caught sight of that person on the path following along the opposite bank of the river.

It was an utterly unexpected coincidence, so for a second, I doubted my vision. But… Ah, that’s…the person over there, that’s…

…Mei Misaki.

There was no room for doubt.

The short bob, tossed by the wind. The balance between her smallish face and her slender body. One glance at the whole picture, and it was clear to me that this was indeed Mei.

She was walking to my right, slowly following along the path in the direction of the river’s flow. Then she stopped in front of the Izana Bridge. Tilting her head a little, she stared at me.

“Mei…” I reflexively called her name. “Mei.”

I completely forgot that Hazumi was at my side and jogged the remaining several meters of the bridge.

“Sou…” Mei Misaki smiled faintly and greeted me. The wind picked up considerably again, rustling the trees and grass. “What a coincidence, meeting you here.”

Unlike when I’d seen her last month at “Blue Eyes Empty to All, in the Twilight of Yomi,” Mei wasn’t wearing her eye patch this time. She had an artificial eye in the left socket, where she’d lost her eyeball due to a childhood illness. But it wasn’t the blue “doll’s eye” that had been there before—

It was a different “eye,” black with some brown in it. A new substitute that Mei had begun wearing about two years ago during her daily activities. Ever since getting it, she’d stopped wearing an eye patch as she’d done before.

“Mei…”

As I stood there face-to-face with her, my heart was pounding so fast, I could almost hear it throbbing. Sure, I’d run over here as fast as I could, but it wasn’t that far of a distance. I had a feeling that wasn’t the only cause.

“Is it all right?” Mei asked.

“Ah?” I tilted my head a little. She cast her eyes past me to the bridge.

“Weren’t you talking with that girl?”

“Ah…but we already finished our conversation, so—”

“Did you?”

“Yeah.”

“Um…no, that’s not really…”

I answered uncertainly, then slowly turned around. At that point, Hazumi had already turned her back to us and started going back to the opposite shore. I couldn’t tell whether or not she had really been staring daggers at us.

“Ummm…uh, thanks for your message the other day,” I said.

Mei smiled faintly again. “Seems like there’s a lot going on. Do you think you’ll be able to keep it up?”

“Yeah…yes, well—”

“The girl who was just here, would she happen to be the one who accepted being the ‘second non-exister’?”

“Uh, yes. She is, but—”

“Hazumi, was it?”

“Yes.”

“She’s beautiful. Are you dating her, by any chance?”

“No way!” Her question came so suddenly that I made a mad rush to deny it. “I’m not. Nu-uh, nothing like that. We’re fellow ‘non-existers,’ so, like, I give her advice on all sorts of stuff. But that’s all.”

“Hmm?” Mei narrowed her right eye again and stared into my face. “I think it should be all right so long as you do a good job, but…I can definitely see how she could be a cause for concern. I don’t think you can neglect her.”

“What do you mean?”

“How do I put this? It’s like she’s staggering along a narrow path above a precipice. But she hasn’t noticed that there’s a pit, and she’s not about to notice, either…like that.”

As I listened to Mei’s words, I began to feel as though a cold, heavy mass were expanding in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t know how to respond. All my attention was focused on Mei’s mouth, waiting for her to speak again.

Then, mingling with the sound of the constant wind, I heard a faint electronic tune. It was her ringtone.

Mei fished her phone out of her jacket pocket and turned to the side, as if hiding it from me.

“Yeah…ah, yes.”

Her response was broken but audible.

“I’m… But…yes. All right…”

I wonder who she’s talking to? I’d had the same thought last month, too.

“…Huh? Sure, okay… I haven’t said anything, relax.”

With that, she hung up the phone.

Who was that?

I was terribly curious, but in the end, I couldn’t bring myself to ask her.

4

The next day was May 7. The morning of the Monday after Golden Week.

I went to school a little earlier than usual and headed straight for Building Zero to peek in on the biology club room. Just as I thought, Shunsuke Kouda was already there, checking on the various creatures he was raising.

“Oh, long time no see.” When he noticed my arrival, Shunsuke pushed his silver-rimmed glasses up by the bridge and, with an earnest expression, said, “It’s great that we were able to make it through April safely, right?”

“Yeah, somehow or other.”

“Over the long holiday, we lost a striped loach and an Amano shrimp. I didn’t bother reporting it, but they’re both currently undergoing diaphanization.”

Now he’d gone from serious to pouting. I responded with a pout of my own.

“And crustaceans?”

“I suppose it’s okay for aquatic creatures…”

“By the way—” Shunsuke went back to his business. “I told you about this year’s new members in my e-mail the other day, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Two boys and a girl?”

“Right, yes. So one of those boys is a guy named Takanashi.”

As soon as I heard that, it piqued my interest. That was a name I had heard and seen before.

“This Takanashi, is his name written with the characters that mean little birds playing?”

Shunsuke nodded, serious. “I think he’s probably the one you’re picturing. Our new member, Takanashi, has a sister two years older than him named Jun. She’s in Class 3.”

Sure enough, there was a girl in Grade 3 Class 3 named Jun Takanashi.

Just my luck to have a “related individual” join the biology club!

“I was worried about it, so I did a little digging, but it doesn’t seem like she’s told him anything about the special circumstances of Class 3. She’s upholding the rules about not telling other people unless it’s absolutely necessary, this Jun Takanashi.”

“Seems like it, yeah.” I sighed, feeling somewhat heavier. I looked across the room, and my eyes landed on the tank housing the white axolotl, the second Woo.

“I happened to hear something from Keisuke,” Shunsuke mentioned. “Something about a few unsettling incidents happening with your class?”

He must have heard that awful rumor about Hazumi.

“That’s…” With mixed feelings, I recalled how she’d been acting the day before. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but most of it doesn’t seem to be true. A student from First Yomi High did die in a traffic accident, but he wasn’t a ‘related individual.’ The crash didn’t happen due to one of our ‘accidents,’ so you don’t need to worry. The ‘calamity’ hasn’t started.”

“Is that so?”

“Hmm. Well, if you’re sure, then I won’t worry too much.”

A few minutes before the first bell, I left Shunsuke behind in the clubroom. There was one more thing I wanted to check on before going to class.

I headed for the secondary library on the first floor of my current location, Building Zero.

A CLOSED sign had been hanging on the door all April, while the librarian, Mr. Chibiki, was on vacation. He was supposed to have been gone for the whole month, but the room had still been closed up during the first couple days of May. Now that we were back from the long holiday, I was curious to see if it would be open or not.

In the hallway of the old redbrick school building, the sun hardly shone, even in the middle of the day. Just as I finally arrived at my destination, someone called my name from somewhere behind me.

“Sou Hiratsuka.” The voice sounded a little hoarse but low and melodious…

That’s—

When I turned around, I saw a man in a black shirt, black jacket, and black pants; he was in black from top to bottom.

—Mr. Chibiki.

“Ah, good morning,” I greeted him politely. “Have you started back at school today?”

“Yeah. Guess so,” he answered. Compared to when I’d met him at the end of the previous year, his face, behind a pair of unfashionable blackish-green glasses, looked quite haggard. His hair had always been streaked with gray, but it seemed to me that it had gotten much whiter. He’d taken leave to deal with some “personal affairs,” but now I wondered if he was having health problems.

“I heard about the situation from Ms. Kanbayashi,” the black-clad librarian said, walking toward me where I stood. “She told me that this is an ‘on year.’ And that you accepted the role of the ‘non-exister’ so the ‘countermeasures’ would go smoothly—is that right?”

“Yes.” I nodded obediently. “And also, um, there’s one more person this year…”

“Yes. That’s right.”

At that moment, the crackling sound of the warning bell started blaring through the old speakers of Building Zero, signaling that there were only five minutes left until the bell marking the beginning of class.

“Are you going to first period? You ‘don’t exist,’ so you’ve got to be cutting sometimes, right?” Mr. Chibiki asked.

“No. I more or less try to go,” I answered. First period on Mondays was math class. If I skipped too much, I wouldn’t be able to follow the material at all. “If it was PE or music or something, I could miss it no problem, though.”

“Hmm. All right then.” Rubbing the tip of his pointed chin, he asked, “I wonder if you could stop by for a bit during lunch? This library will be open again, starting today.”

“Ah, sure,” I answered without hesitation, “I’ll do that.”

“Anything you wanted to discuss with me?”

“Yeah…sort of.”

“Good, there are some things I want to ask you, too, plus some things I want to tell you,” Mr. Chibiki said, roughly brushing back his conspicuously white mop of hair. “I’ll be waiting.”

5

First period math class. In hindsight, that was when I first noticed that Hazumi was behaving strangely.

During class, I tried glancing over at her several times from my seat at the last desk in the row closest to the hall. She had her textbook out, but she didn’t have a notebook open, nor was she holding a pencil. On top of that, she spent the whole class period with one cheek in her hand, looking down. Maybe Hazumi was sleepy or wasn’t feeling motivated. Or perhaps she was simply spaced out or was unwell.

Second period was Japanese language arts class. Hazumi’s demeanor didn’t change. Even during the break between first and second period, she remained seated with both elbows up on the desk, holding her face in both hands and staring straight down. She didn’t so much as glance my way.

This struck me as strange and was definitely cause for concern, but we were in school, and in the room for Class 3 at that. There’s no way I can just go ask her what’s wrong…

When second period ended, Hazumi stood up from her desk and left the classroom alone before the next course began. As she left, I caught a quick glimpse of her face—she was pale. I still didn’t feel I could say anything, but I stood up without really knowing why and walked over toward her desk by the window.

“What the…?” I heard a voice. It came from Izumi Akazawa, who’d gone over to the desk before I got there. Next to her was class representative Tsugunaga.

The two of them peered down at Hazumi’s place, then looked at each other, and Izumi turned to me for just a second. Frowning pointedly and wearing a grim expression, she shook her head ever so slightly.

Oh, what’s going on?

I waited for the two girls to leave, then walked over to the desk myself.

This piece of furniture had been brought over from the old Grade 3 Class 3 classroom in Building Zero for the “non-existers.” Staring at its pitted, blackened surface, I found some graffiti.

Nearby was more.

Unlucky Hazumi

You’re cursed

Are you the “casualty”?

This was written in black (seemingly) permanent ink, with (seemingly) mixed penmanship. The awful words were freshly written, too.

“How cruel,” I mumbled unconsciously. “Who would do this?”

What kind of person would take these rumors seriously and stoop to such cheap harassment?

I glanced around the classroom. Naturally, as a “non-exister,” I had no one’s eyes on me.

Amid the din, Izumi’s voice reached my ears. “We have to do something.”

“You’re right; we do,” answered Tsugunaga.

“If this keeps up…”

“It would be awful if it spread, wouldn’t it?”

“I can’t imagine… In any case, I’ve got to say something to Ms. Kanbayashi. And warn everyone after school, maybe…”

Perhaps her statement came from a sense of responsibility as a countermeasures officer. That and a sense of justice. From the way she was speaking, I could feel Izumi’s irritation and anger at her classmates’ failure to maintain their composure and follow the rules.

6

Thinking back on that day, the weather had been strange all morning.

It was unpleasantly chilly for early May. The wind was strong and cold, but about half the sky was cloudless and clear. The other half was full of thick clouds that were shifting from moment to moment.

The scenery outside, which had been bright until just a moment earlier, was now dark and gloomy. The inside of the classroom had also darkened to the point that we needed to turn on the lights to continue.

Third period was science class.

The bell rang, and Ms. Kanbayashi appeared wearing a white lab coat that she hadn’t been wearing during homeroom, but there was still no trace of Hazumi.

Ms. Kanbayashi opened her attendance book on the lectern and checked the number and faces of the seated students. Of course, she must have noticed Hazumi’s absence right away, but she carried on without the slightest change to her expression. She also made a deliberate effort not to look toward me at all. Of all the teachers, Ms. Kanbayashi was the most thorough about treating the “non-existers” as if we didn’t exist.

What happened to Hazumi?

I assume the graffiti on her desk made her pretty upset.

I guess she spent first and second period looking down like that because of the shock of seeing it. If she doesn’t come back to class, it’s probably because she doesn’t want to be in here anymore—because she can’t stand it.

Outside, it was growing increasingly dark. Thunder rumbling in the distance accompanied the sound of fiercely blowing wind…

Ms. Kanbayashi started class without waiting for Hazumi to return.

We were in volume two of the second section of our textbook, a passage on “cells and development of organisms.” I was as serious and focused in science as in any other course, but it wasn’t very interesting. As someone who’d belonged to the biology club since my first year of middle school, this was all information I knew already. Frankly, it was rather boring.

The door in the back of the classroom slid open, and in came Hazumi.

A number of students turned to look as she entered but immediately averted their eyes and faced the front again. Even Ms. Kanbayashi, up at the podium, continued her lecture after only the briefest of pauses, as if nothing had even happened. She didn’t acknowledge Hazumi at all.

Seized by a somewhat…no, a very intense negative premonition, I glanced sidelong at Hazumi to try to figure out how she was doing.

Once she reached her seat, she didn’t make any attempt to take out her textbook or notebook. Instead, she slowly stared up at the ceiling before looking my way. I averted my gaze without watching her complete the movement. From her perspective, it probably looked like I had panicked and turned away. From my standpoint, however, that was the only thing I could have done.

Thunder rumbled in the air. Wind blew through some windows that had been left open, sending the thin curtains that had been halfway pulled back fluttering. And then—

“I can’t.”

A voice murmured quietly.

“I can’t do it.”

The second time was a little louder than the first. Then, in an even louder voice—

“I can’t do it anymore… I’m sick of this.”

The voice was coming from Hazumi.

Ah, this is bad news…

At that point, I think less than half of the class had caught on to what she was doing. Ms. Kanbayashi didn’t seem to have noticed; she ignored Hazumi and continued with her lecture, writing several key words up on the blackboard.

“So basically, cell division occurs in this manner in multicellular organisms. After that, the divided cells mature and divide again. Through the repetition of this process…”

Thunder boomed through the air again. The lights, suspended from the ceiling in rows, flickered from instability.

With a clatter of her chair, Hazumi stood up. And then—

“I’m sick of it!”

This time, she raised her voice loud enough to be heard in every corner of the room.

“I can’t do it anymore…”

From behind the lectern, Ms. Kanbayashi looked surprised, taken aback even. Most of the students had a similar reaction, and even I couldn’t say I was perfect in this regard, either. However—

“All right, let’s turn to page thirty-six in the textbook next.”

Despite it all, the teacher continued to ignore Hazumi, ignored the complaint she’d surely heard in an attempt to carry on with the lesson. Some students followed her lead and turned the pages of their textbooks, while others glanced over or turned to look at Hazumi where she stood… Despite the fact that no one was saying anything, a strained sort of commotion was spreading through the classroom.

“Don’t ignore me any longer!”

Hazumi made another plea, rattling on as though she couldn’t maintain control over her agitated emotions.

“I can’t be a ‘non-exister’ anymore!”

The commotion died down briefly. She continued her appeal in a tearful voice.

“I exist! I’m not the ‘casualty’ or anything like that. I’m really alive, and I’m right here!”

She may or may not have been done speaking, but at that moment, a strange, unfamiliar sound suddenly began reverberating through the air.

The noise was utterly bizarre. If one tried to express it in an onomatopoeia, it would come out to something like…papapa, bap, ratatatat…

It was echoing from the windows.

From all the windows facing the schoolyard. No, on second thought, it was originating from the entirety of the school building, windows included. From every exterior of the building.

Some people probably just assumed it had started to rain. But they were wrong. It wasn’t rain. That wasn’t the sound of droplets—it was rougher, harsher than that…

This is hail.

I remembered encountering hail several years ago at Lakeshore Manor in Hinami. Back then, the thunder had also sounded as it did now, and a similar sound had also enveloped the house out of nowhere… As I’d looked around restlessly, wondering what it was, Uncle Teruya, who had been with me at the time, explained.

“That’s hail. Drops of ice that form inside cumulonimbus clouds collect and fall. Regular hail is five millimeters or more across, while its miniature counterpart is less than five millimeters. From the sound of it, what’s falling now is the regular kind.”

That’s what he had told me.

I heard a girl shriek from the front of the row near the windows.

Surprised at the hail blowing in through the open windows, she leaped out of her seat. A number of people around her also got up in a panic.

I could clearly see bits—more like clusters, actually—of white ice scattered around the area, even from where I was sitting. They were huge. About the size of glass marbles or quail’s eggs.

The classroom grew louder and louder. At that moment, thunder roared again, as if striking a routed enemy. It was much closer and much stronger than before. The ceiling lights flickered again. The commotion in the classroom swelled with yet more confusion and fear.

“I am—”

Even amid the chaos, Hazumi continued shouting her appeal.

“I am not the ‘casualty’! I am right here! I…”

Oh…give it up already, I replied in my mind.

Give up. We get it. You can stop already. You can stop being a “non-exister.” It’s fine.

…Settle down.

At the same time, I was trying to appease myself.

“As long as you do your job properly, Sou…”

I ruminated over the situation, recalling Mei Misaki’s words from yesterday.

Even if Hazumi’s actions threatened this year’s “countermeasures,” the class still has me as a “non-exister.” That means the “countermeasures” are still in effect, and we should be able to prevent any “accidents” from occurring. So now…

“Close the windows,” Ms. Kanbayashi ordered, dashing toward them herself. “Shut all the open ones!”

In response, several students stood up from their seats and followed the teacher’s instructions.

But for some time, all the windows on the schoolyard side of the room rattled in a crosswind, strong enough to be called a gust. Large chunks of hail battered them like bullets; ultimately, they shattered a pane of glass in the back of the classroom—right next to Hazumi’s seat.

With a short yelp, she crouched down beside her desk. The gale blowing in tossed her long light-brown hair up in disarray. Fragments of glass rained down on her.

And not a single person moved to help her.

Her insistence that she existed had been all too sudden. No one had been able to accept it. So even now, she was still a “non-exister”… That’s why no one responded. They wouldn’t dare move.

I, on the other hand, was frozen in place for quite a different reason.

Even if Hazumi’s given up her duties, I still have to carry on being a “non-exister.”

So there’s no way I can act like I’m really here right now.

I was only able to entertain that thought for one or two seconds.

The hail kept falling, and the wind kept gusting. Thunder rumbled again, closer this time, and almost simultaneously, all the lights went out.

A power outage from a lightning strike?

Seconds later, the classroom, already in an uproar, descended into even more confusion.

Just like when the hail had started, for a second, I wasn’t able to grasp what it was. I just knew that some big black object had flown in from outside.

But a moment later, I realized what it was.

Something big and black…a bird.

From its pitch-black wings, body, head, and beak, plus its deep, piercing cries, I could tell it was a crow.

One of the crows flying above the school grounds must have been surprised by the sudden hail and flown in to escape. No, it’s still acting far too strangely for the circumstances. Its movements are too violent somehow, too random.

Flapping its pitch-black wings, the bird charged toward me. I instinctively covered my face with both arms.

It grazed my head, then crashed into the wall adjoining the corridor. Then it immediately changed course, this time flying toward the blackboard in the front of the room.

I felt something warm on the back of one of the hands I had used to cover my face. When I looked, I found it stained red.

Blood? But I don’t think I’m injured, so is this from the bird? I wonder if it’s hurt? Maybe it took a direct hit from a big chunk of hail. Which caused it to freak out and do all this…

The black shape darted around the inside of the dim classroom, releasing strange cries all the while. It was a jungle crow, with a full wingspan of about a meter. It seemed huge as it circled around and around, struggling violently inside the classroom.

Screams without respect to gender could be heard in every direction. Some students fled from the erratically flying creature. Some overturned desks and chairs in an attempt to ward off the bird. Others tripped over themselves as they ran around trying to escape… One boy even pulled a broom out of the cleaning supplies closet and wielded it like a bamboo sword. That individual was Tajimi, one of the countermeasures officers.

The students near the door followed her instructions, but not everyone could escape right away. A number of people had fallen, crouched down on the floor, or were frozen stiff in their seats, unable to move.

Other students were trying to assist them. Tajimi abandoned his broom and joined the effort. Yagisawa too. But as a “non-exister,” I obviously couldn’t do anything but watch…

Even though it was letting up a bit, hail was still pouring outside.

Meanwhile, the crow continued swooping around haphazardly inside the classroom, colliding with walls and windows and the ceiling, letting out discouraged shrieks and scattering bloody black feathers… Finally, it crashed into one of the light fixtures. The two long fluorescent light bulbs made a loud noise as they shattered.

And right beneath where they’d landed was a girl, facedown on the floor, motionless. She didn’t move a muscle when shards from the bulbs rained down on her. The back of her neck, laid bare by her disheveled hair, was wet and crimson…

…It can’t be.

I felt like my heart had stopped.

There’s no way—she can’t be…

Dead? Is she dead? Did she maybe hit her head when she fell during the sudden uproar?

Forgetting my duties as the “non-exister,” I started to dash over to her, but someone got to her quicker than I could. “Are you all right?” they asked, cradling her in their arms.

“Kusakabe? Come on—get it together!”

The person clutching her was Izumi Akazawa. She had scratches of her own on her forehead as well.

I stopped moving, and Izumi looked toward me for a split second, then nodded slightly.

“You’re all right, aren’t you? You can stand, right?”

Finally, with Izumi’s help, the fallen student—Kusakabe—sat up slowly.

“Are you hurt?”

“I’m all right. Just a little sore.”

Deeply relieved, I retreated from the area. By then, the sounds of the crow’s rampage had ceased.

I slowly retreated into a back corner and looked around the classroom that was still dark from the power outage.

Hazumi was nowhere to be found.

I spotted the battered crow in front of the cleaning supplies closet. Its blood-smeared black wings were bent and broken in places…and one of its eyes was crushed. Its beak hung half open; it had used up all its strength.

“Poor thing…,” I mumbled, keeping my voice quiet.

How awful. I’m sure it didn’t mean to fly in here and cause all this turmoil.

I’ve got to get in touch with Shunsuke Kouda later.

If it’s going to be treated like garbage and thrown away, I’d like to bury it in the graveyard outside the biology club room. Or maybe I’ll let Shunsuke turn it into a display specimen this time if he asks.

7

The hail that had fallen at a little past eleven o’clock in the morning that day varied wildly depending on where you were in Yomiyama City. It was particularly violent in an area with a radius of about two kilometers, which encompassed North Yomiyama Middle School. Outside that zone, it wasn’t all that bad. The damage to buildings and fields was also pretty much limited to the places within that circle.

During the middle of third period, however—

Hazumi, who’d undertaken the role of the “second non-exister” as part of the year’s “countermeasures,” renounced her role, insisting on her presence to the entire class. And since the strange sequence of events occurred immediately after her declaration—

I’m not surprised that some people are seeing a connection…

On the one hand, that made a certain amount of sense to me, but on the other hand, I wanted to believe anything but.

If Hazumi’s declaration had indeed invalidated the “countermeasures” and started the “calamity,” then shouldn’t someone have died in the panic that followed?

Moreover—

“As long as you do your job properly, Sou…”

There was also what Mei Misaki had said.

Even if Hazumi called it quits, I was still playing the part of a “non-exister.” The “countermeasures” should still be in effect. I figured the “calamity” hadn’t actually started yet.

Or so I’d thought, but—

I discovered something else later that evening.

Around the same time that Grade 3 Class 3 was panicking in the face of the hail and the crow, a “related individual” somewhere in Yomiyama City breathed their last. A man in his sixties whose cancer had advanced to the terminal stage, who’d been admitted to a hospice on the outskirts of town some time ago. His name was Joukichi Kanbayashi. He was Ms. Kanbayashi’s much-older brother.

“Three years ago—in 1998, Class 3 also tried making two people ‘not exist.’ That’s indisputable. But it’s impossible to judge whether that was a success in the end.”

During our “strategy session” in March, the teachers had also told us that it was unclear whether the “additional countermeasure” had actually made a difference or not. But back then, nobody had put it quite so bluntly.

“That year, first of all, Misaki… But you know this already, right? She accepted the role of the ‘non-exister,’ but…”

“Yes. But despite that, there were some unforeseen complications, so the ‘accidents’ started happening. And then, in a last-ditch effort, they added the ‘additional countermeasure.’”

“That’s right. In May, a student transferred in from Tokyo… Actually, I believe you’re acquainted with him, too?”

“You mean Sakakibara, right? Yes, Mei introduced me to him, kind of.”

“When he came in, no one informed him of the special circumstances of Class 3. Ignorant of Misaki’s role, he interacted with her during school, and…to make a long story short, that was the ‘unexpected complication’ that kicked everything off. Most people think it was probably because of their interaction that the ‘countermeasures’ were invalidated and the ‘accidents’ began.” Mr. Chibiki placed his hand against his forehead, as though the explanation had exhausted him.

Up until now, I’d heard of this only in vague terms… I see, so that’s what happened?

“Then the rest of the class had a meeting about whether there was anything they could do about the ‘accidents’ once they had started and decided to make Sakakibara into a second ‘non-exister.’ But despite that, the ‘accidents’ that year continued, so…”

Right, Mei told me the same thing. She also said there wasn’t much of a point to adding a second “non-exister” to this year’s “countermeasures.”

“But didn’t the ‘calamity’ stop halfway through the year three years ago?”

“Why?” I had to ask. “Why did it stop?”

“Well now. I wonder.”

For some reason, Mr. Chibiki turned anxious and shook his head several times. I couldn’t tell whether that meant he didn’t know or that he knew but couldn’t tell me.

“So…” I changed the question. “In your opinion, do this year’s ‘countermeasures’ not make any sense?”

“I told you, it’s impossible to tell.” Mr. Chibiki wrapped another piece of hair around his finger. “That’s how it worked out last time, but this time, the circumstances are different. As far as I know, there’s no precedent for trying to have two ‘non-existers’ from the start of the first semester. As to whether it’s completely meaningless or whether it has made any difference—I can’t say just yet.”

2

May 8, Tuesday.

I’d skipped fourth period music class and gone to visit the secondary library alone. I’d actually intended to go during lunch the day before, but there’d been that big uproar during third period, so it was out of the question.

This morning’s homeroom hadn’t been with Ms. Kanbayashi. Instead, we were supervised by Mr. Miyamoto, the PE teacher. Until her older brother’s wake and funeral service were over, Ms. Kanbayashi would be on leave from school.

The news of her brother Joukichi Kanbayashi’s passing had circulated the night before (according to Izumi), so most of the students knew by now. Those who didn’t know all gasped at Mr. Miyamoto’s announcement. And then an uncomfortable silence descended over us…

The windowpane that had been smashed open during yesterday’s hailstorm was covered up with cardboard as a temporary measure. As for the fluorescent lights the crow had broken, they’d already been replaced with new ones. And—

Yuika Hazumi was absent from her seat in the back of the row closest to the windows looking out onto the schoolyard.

She hadn’t returned since yesterday’s commotion. I was concerned about her and had tried calling her cell phone several times the previous evening, but she hadn’t answered once, so…I anticipated that she probably wouldn’t be coming to school today. She might not be back for a little while. Now that I think about the way she acted yesterday, today’s absence was probably inevitable.

3

I had become very well acquainted with Mr. Chibiki in the two years and change since I’d started at North Yomi. Mei had told me about him originally, calling him an “observer of the ‘phenomenon.’” She’d also advised me to listen to what he had to say. And so—

Since my first year, I’d taken every opportunity to slip off to the secondary library. I hardly ever borrowed books or read anything there, but we would always exchange a few words whenever I dropped by. He’d been the head teacher for Grade 3 Class 3 twenty-nine years ago, when the aforementioned student, Misaki Yomiyama, had died. Mr. Chibiki had been working at the school as a social studies teacher at the time, another fact I eventually heard from the man himself. Generally, he would also answer whatever questions I had about the “phenomenon” and the “accidents,” though he didn’t volunteer much, and he certainly wasn’t very talkative.

The last time I saw his face was at the end of the previous school year, and he hadn’t come to school at all since the start of the new year. It had been easy to look up his contact information in the faculty roster, but I had hesitated to phone him without warning…

I wonder what kind of “personal affairs” would make him absent for so long? I hesitated to ask that today as well. I was concerned about the fact that his face looked much more haggard than ever before and that his voice and affect seemed to lack any spirit. But it wasn’t my place to say anything…

“…Mr. Chibiki, what do you think about the series of events yesterday?” I launched right into the issue at hand. At this hour, there was of course nobody but the two of us here in the library room. “There was such a big uproar in the classroom…and then Ms. Kanbayashi’s brother passed away. Do you think the ‘calamity’ has started?”

On the other side of the counter, Mr. Chibiki made a low “hmm…” as he stroked his chin where he’d grown a sparse beard.

“It’s hard to know how we should react to it all,” he answered carefully, “but one of the two ‘non-existers’…Hazumi was her name, right? She raised her voice in front of everyone during third period yesterday, didn’t she? She announced that she existed. In other words, she abdicated her position.”

“That’s right.”

“I can’t be a ‘non-exister’ anymore!”

The sound of her ranting from the day before rang in my ears.

“I exist! I’m not the ‘casualty’ or anything like that. I…”

It had been like an explosion of built-up emotions. I could easily imagine the thought process that had gotten her to that point. When I imagined what was going through her mind, I felt responsible to some extent, and my chest began to hurt.

But even more important than that was the question of understanding the present situation and gaining insight into what was to come… I wonder if thinking that makes me a coldhearted person? I bet it would seem like that to, say, Yagisawa.

“Yes,” I replied.

“And yet, no one lost their life during all that.”

“Correct,” I answered again.

“But in a separate location, on the same day, Ms. Kanbayashi’s older brother Joukichi Kanbayashi—he died. I wonder how closely related the two events were in time?”

“I heard they happened at around the same time.”

“What was the exact time? Did Joukichi’s death come before Hazumi raised her voice in the classroom or after?”

“Oh, I’m not sure.”

“If it happened before she spoke, then we can consider Joukichi’s death to be unrelated to the ‘phenomenon.’”

“And if it happened after, then it is connected in the end?”

“No,” Mr. Chibiki replied, tilting his head slightly as a vertical crease formed on his forehead, “I don’t think that’s likely.”

“What do you mean?”

“It means…”

He started to answer, then held his tongue for a moment and stood up out of nowhere. He came out from behind the counter, walked over to the large reading table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

“Come sit,” he bade me.

I did as I was told and sat in a chair across the table from him.

Wearing the most somber expression I had ever seen on his face, Mr. Chibiki sighed deeply. “That said, it’s not as if we can stop fumbling around. We must observe, make conjectures, and set our powers of reason to work to confront the ‘phenomenon.’ If we can’t do that, we should just abandon it all and run away from here.”

The words run away sent dark ripples through my mind.

During the summer of fourteen years ago, Uncle Teruya had chosen that option. He’d fled from this school, from this town, taking his whole family with him. And then…

“In any case,” Mr. Chibiki continued, “what we need to do now is to calmly consider the facts of each situation as it happens, make a judgment based on examples from the past, and then address it as best we can. Even someone like me, who’s been observing the ‘phenomenon’ at this school for ages, can only make an obvious statement like that, I’m ashamed to say.”

“…………”

“Well then.” Mr. Chibiki put both his hands on the table, sat up straight, and looked me in the eye. “How to take the events of yesterday is the question.”

“Uh, yes.”

“Hazumi quit ‘not existing,’ but there’s still one ‘non-exister’ left—you. And the technique you’re trying this year is a kind of ‘insurance,’ right? Even if you lose Hazumi, your ‘number two,’ there’s still you, ‘number one.’ It would be strange, then, for the ‘calamity’ to begin right away, despite this tactic. When you take a step back, that’s the theory.”

Even if Hazumi drops out, as long as I continue in the role, the “countermeasures” should be effective. That’s right. Mei’s been consistently saying that from the beginning, and I also feel like that’s correct. And yet…

“…………”

“When the ‘calamity’ starts, one or more ‘related individuals’ will die every month. The way they succumb varies, from getting caught up in an incredibly unlikely accident, to the sudden onset of a fatal disease, or even suicide or homicide… But in any event, I think we can say that once the ‘calamity’ begins, it becomes easier for ‘related individuals’ to get killed. The likelihood of them dying unexpectedly, or in a trivial accident, skyrockets. That tendency is obvious. Whereas—”

“Even though there was a huge disturbance in the classroom yesterday, nobody died at the scene,” I added.

“Exactly.” Mr. Chibiki nodded. “If the ‘calamity’ had actually begun, we would expect someone to have died during yesterday’s confusion. It’s far stranger that everyone made it out alive, really. So…”

“So the disturbance yesterday was simply a coincidence, and the ‘calamity’ hasn’t started yet?”

“I think we can accept that explanation.”

Mm, that’s what I thought yesterday, too. Of course, I may have mostly been trying to reassure myself then. But—

“The question then becomes the matter of Joukichi Kanbayashi’s death,” Mr. Chibiki continued on in an unperturbed tone. “Let’s leave aside the earlier discussion about whether the hour of his death came before or after Hazumi’s desertion. He was an inpatient at a hospice outside the city, wasn’t he?”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

“Ah…” I unintentionally let out a little noise.

“He wasn’t connected to the ‘calamity’—he just died because he was going to anyway.” Mr. Chibiki ran a finger across his cheek. “I think there’s plenty of room for that interpretation. That’s my take on it anyway.”

He said that and nodded, but his expression was still slightly uneasy. As though wondering whether he was being overly optimistic.

4

“I just remembered…,” I spoke up, right as the bell signaling the end of fourth period began to ring.

“What is it?” Mr. Chibiki pushed his blackish-green glasses up, a sour look on his face.

After waiting for the bell to cease, I said, “Yesterday morning, when I met you in the hall, I think you said you had something you wanted to ask me, plus something you wanted to tell me about.”

“Oh yeah. I did say that, didn’t I?”

“So?” I didn’t get the impression it was anything all that serious, but now that I had remembered, I was obviously curious. “What was it?”

“It’s nothing important,” he answered and pushed his glasses up again. “The thing I wanted to tell you about was, well, basically what I said when you first got here. About there probably being no point to the ‘countermeasure’ of having two ‘non-existers’ this year. Though like I said before, it probably helps as ‘insurance.’”

“Ah, all right.”

“And the thing I wanted to ask you was…” He stopped, got up from his chair, and moved his neck and shoulders around a little like he was trying to work out muscle stiffness. “Man, I’m thirsty. Want anything to drink?” he asked.

“Uh, no, please don’t go to the trouble.”

Mr. Chibiki left the table and ducked behind the counter for a moment, then came back holding two plastic bottles. Has he got a fridge back there?

The bottles were full of mineral water. He handed one to me, then opened the cap on the other right away and swallowed half the contents in a single gulp.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the bottle.

“I heard that you put your hand up and volunteered to be this year’s ‘non-exister,’” Mr. Chibiki remarked as he set his bottle on the table.

I nodded. “A long time ago, I decided that I would if I ended up in Class 3.”

“Hmm. So then…now that you’ve actually been ‘not existing’ for about a month, I’m curious how you’re doing. What I mean is, how are you doing mentally?”

“I’m—”

Cutting me off, Mr. Chibiki continued. “But from what I’ve seen of you today, there doesn’t seem to be anything to worry about.”

“Oh, really?”

“No matter how well you understand it rationally, it’s very emotionally trying for your whole class to treat you like you don’t exist. People say they feel needlessly isolated and get depressed or start experiencing paranoia, things like that. I can think of dozens of examples from the past.”

Isolation… If that’s all, then I’ve been accustomed to that since I was young.

And feelings of paranoid delusion? I don’t think that could ever happen to me.

“I’m just fine,” I responded flatly.

Mr. Chibiki softened his expression somewhat and nodded. “You seem fine. But just in case, come and see me if you find yourself losing control of your emotions. I don’t know how useful my advice will be, but it’s sure to be better than trying to deal with everything yourself. Got it?”

“Hmm. What a reliable young man you are.” Mr. Chibiki’s expression softened even further. “By the way,” he added, “I wonder if you’ve seen or spoken to Ms. Misaki lately?”

His question took me a little by surprise. Letting my gaze wander around the tabletop, I answered, “Yes. Occasionally.”

“She’s in her third year of high school by now, eh?”

“That’s right.”

“Have you been discussing this year’s developments with her, too?”

“Um, yes,” I replied. “And naturally, she seems rather concerned about everything.”

“Hmm. Is that so?” At that, Mr. Chibiki looked up diagonally at the ceiling of the dimly lit library room and abruptly narrowed his eyes. He looked like he was reminiscing about the past. “Mei Misaki. She was, how can I say, a student with a mysterious presence. And I thought it had to be more than a coincidence when I first learned that you were a child who had some kind of fateful connection to her, two years ago, when you entered this school just as she was graduating out of it.”

I’d never told Mr. Chibiki about the events I had experienced at the Hinami lake house three summers ago or about everything that Mei had done for me back then. I didn’t think I wanted to discuss it with him now, either.

“Misaki was…” Just as he was about to say something else, the door slid open with a clatter. I was well acquainted with the two students who entered—

“Good afternoon.”

“Sorry to intrude!”

They were two of my classmates, Izumi Akazawa and Nobuyuki Yagisawa.

“Oh!” Mr. Chibiki reacted. “How unusual to have so many visitors.”

But I was fully aware of that.

They must have come to consult with Mr. Chibiki about something of their own, I realized and stood up silently from my chair. I moved away from the table, toward a spot by the back window.

I’ll stand over here without saying anything so they can pretend like I’m not even here.

That was my plan, and they seemed to grasp it. Mr. Chibiki too.

“Um, I’m Yagisawa, class representative for Grade 3 Class 3…,” he said to Mr. Chibiki, who nodded, then looked at Izumi, who was standing beside him.

“And you?” His mouth formed the words, You are…?

“Countermeasures officer Akazawa,” Izumi replied. Her line of sight was directed straight at Mr. Chibiki alone, nowhere near me.

“Akazawa, huh?”

This might have just been my imagination, but as he fixed his gaze on her, he seemed quite confused. Tilting his head to the side slightly and frowning, he asked, “Hmm, you are…?”

Thud. I felt a low reverberation.

It was outside my normal range of hearing. I could only feel it.

This…sensation…it’s like, yes, it feels like someone looking in from outside the world has stealthily clicked a camera shutter closed. Followed by a black strobe light…

That’s how I felt, but only for a moment.

After that instance passed, I completely forgot about the sensation. By the time that happened, the look of bewilderment had entirely disappeared from Mr. Chibiki’s face.

“Izumi Akazawa, is it? I see—so you’re the countermeasures officer?”

“Yes. There are two others besides me, too—Etou and Tajimi.”

“Interesting… So? What’s your business here?” he asked them. “I’m sure you didn’t come to borrow books. I bet you’re here to talk to me about the ‘phenomenon’ and the ‘accidents.’”

After that, Mr. Chibiki consulted with Izumi and Yagisawa—and I ended up listening to their conversation from a corner of the room far away from the table they were all sitting around, dedicated to the utmost to my role as a “non-exister.” My predictions had been just about right—they’d come to discuss the same things with Mr. Chibiki as I had. Namely, the question of whether or not they should take yesterday’s series of events to mean that the “calamity” had begun. The opinion he expressed to them was also roughly the same as what I had heard from him earlier…

“…So you see, there’s still a significant possibility that the ‘calamity’ has not, in fact, started, right? In that case, I think it would be rash to decide that the ‘countermeasures’ are ruined just because Hazumi alone deserted her duty,” Mr. Chibiki concluded.

Yagisawa responded, “So the thing with Ms. Kanbayashi’s older brother had nothing to do with the ‘calamity,’ right?” I expected to hear his sigh of relief any moment now.

“That’s not a question I can answer with one hundred percent certainty, but from what I’ve heard, there’s a good chance that’s correct.”

“That’s not a reassuring way to put it…,” Yagisawa replied. “But, well, I feel like I won’t be able to keep going if I don’t carry on that way.”

“But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. So…” As she was speaking, Izumi’s gaze flicked over to me briefly. Though, as a “non-exister,” I couldn’t nod or signal her with my eyes or anything in response…

…So I’m continuing on, just as I expected.

Silently, I directed my thoughts toward Izumi.

Today, after this, and from tomorrow morning on…I must continue to play the part of a “non-exister” as a “countermeasure” to prevent the “calamity.” Not with Hazumi at my side but alone. All by myself. Of course—

As long as there’s a purpose to it, that’s no problem for me.

6

Hazumi didn’t come to school again the next day. Or the day after that or the day after that, either.

Ms. Kanbayashi reappeared two days later, on Wednesday the 10th. She seemed like she’d probably also spoken to Mr. Chibiki and gotten a positive assessment of the situation.

During homeroom that day, she announced, “Let’s continue with the ‘countermeasures’ with the assumption that the ‘calamity’ has not begun.” She looked around the classroom with a face as expressionless as a Noh mask; it appeared as though she was suppressing her emotions. “My brother’s death on Monday was unavoidable and came at the end of a protracted illness. It appears to be unrelated to the ‘calamity.’ And so…”

Her only comment about Hazumi’s absence was, “It is what it is.” In a tone of voice like she was keeping any unnecessary emotion in check, she explained, “If you consider Hazumi’s feelings, it’s perfectly reasonable that she might want to be absent from school for a little while. For the time being, it’s probably best to give her some space.”

The old desk and chair placed at the rear of the row closest to the windows on the schoolyard side for the “non-exister” were still there. Before long, these were sure to be replaced with the newer desk and chair that had originally been there.

On Tuesday night, Izumi sent me a report. “Hazumi may have dropped out, but we all agreed that you should continue being a ‘non-exister’ for the ‘countermeasures’ from now on, Sou.”

In this way—

The chaos that had threatened to overtake the class had, for the time being, given way to some sense of stability. Though it was a delicate balance, one that had not entirely dispelled the currents of anxiety and fear that came from deeming Hazumi a “deserter.”

But it’s all right; it’ll be all right—I admonished myself strongly.

As long as I just continue “not existing” exactly as I’ve been doing until now, everything will turn out okay. The “calamity” hasn’t started yet. Which means I can still prevent it. I have to.

Repeating this thought like a prayer, I solemnly devoted myself to my duty.

Another two days passed, then three, and then the week was over… Hazumi was still absent, but no misfortunes worth mentioning befell the class. The delicate balance had started to stabilize somewhat.

If only this equilibrium could continue on forever so the “calamity” doesn’t start, I wished ardently.

7

Eventually, I got another opportunity to speak with Mei Misaki.

I’d tried visiting “Blue Eyes Empty to All, in the Twilight of Yomi” several times on my way home from school, but no matter what day I went, Mei wasn’t around, so I hadn’t gotten to see her. I summarized the events of Monday and the main points of my conversation with Mr. Chibiki the following day in an e-mail, but I wasn’t sure whether she’d read it, as I never got a response.

But on Saturday, she called me at last.

“I think it’s fine,” Mei said. “I don’t think Mr. Chibiki’s judgment will let you down. I do feel bad for that girl Hazumi, though. But as long as you keep it together, you’ll be all right.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, and listen,” she continued. “Next week, I’ve got my school trip.”

“School trip…?”

“These days, it’s popular for people to go on their high school trip in their second year, but at my school, we go during the third year, around this time.”

“Ummm…where are you going?”

“Okinawa.”

“Huh?”

“Honestly, I’m not that interested.”

When I pictured Mei mixed in with a big crowd of students on a group trip to Okinawa—it didn’t seem to fit at all. It made me kind of antsy. But it wasn’t like I could tell her she didn’t have to go if she didn’t want to.

“My dad even told me I could pass on Okinawa and join him on a work trip to Europe instead; he was totally serious. But I don’t exactly feel like doing that, either.”

Mei’s father, Kotaro Misaki, apparently flew from country to country year-round for his job in international trade. I was acquainted with him as well, so I could imagine him suggesting that like it was nothing.

“We’re scheduled to return on the twentieth,” Mei said with a short sigh. “Call me if anything comes up while I’m gone.”

“Uh…sure.”

There shouldn’t be any emergencies, since everything’s “all right,” like you say. That was my first thought, but of course I obediently agreed.

A brief silence fell between us before Mei started talking again. “Oh, right, I mentioned something about this before, but I’m coming over to your place soon.”

“Ah. Uh, ah…o-okay.” My reaction in the moment was one of utter confusion. “But even if you come over, there’s nothing to do.”

“Uh…sure.”

The doll was out of its box, displayed on top of a chest in the bedroom.

It was a beautiful figure of a girl in a black dress, probably the first- or second-most important object I owned… And as Mei had said, the doll was a memento of my uncle Teruya, who had passed away three years earlier. On top of that, it was a creation of Mei’s mother, the doll artist Kirika.

“All right, see you later, Sou.” Before she hung up, Mei muttered something partly to herself: “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

8

“What’s this one called?”

A bunch of dinosaur figurines were lined up in the display case. With their owner’s permission, I picked up a creature that I wasn’t too familiar with and asked about it.

“Velociraptor.”

Izumi looked back from the counter where she had been preparing coffee and answered.

“Veloci…?”

“Raptor. You don’t know about them? I thought you were in the biology club.”

“I know about tyrannosaurus and triceratops and a bunch of others.”

“Have you never seen Jurassic Park?” Yagisawa asked. He grabbed the figure from my hands and scrutinized it. “They showed it on TV the other day.”

“…I’ve never seen it.”

“But you must know the title?”

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never watched the movie. And I don’t particularly want to.”

“Most boys love dinosaurs and monsters, you know. I’m not bragging, but I’m a fan.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m scared of monster media like Gamera and whatever.”

“Then Jurassic Park should be fine!”

“Hmm.”

Dinosaurs were creatures that actually used to exist in this world, so completely fictitious creatures didn’t seem all that different to me, at least not while they were rampaging around on-screen. But I didn’t feel like having that conversation now, so I kept quiet.

“You like them, huh, Akazawa? Dinosaurs and monsters and stuff?” Yagisawa asked, setting the figure down on the living room table.

“I don’t really care about monsters,” Izumi answered, “but I love dinosaurs. My favorites are the raptors.”

“Oh? Why those in particular?”

“Partly because Jurassic Park was the first movie I ever saw in theaters.”

“I like T. rex better, though. It’s so big and strong.”

“But the main characters in that movie are definitely the raptors, right? They’re ruthless and clever… They’re my favorite by a long shot. Plus, they’re cute.”

“How on earth are they cute?!” Yagisawa brushed his ruffled hair back. “But you said you saw it in theaters… It was shown a really long time ago.”

“My older brother wanted to see it, so he took me along.”

“The guy who’s in Germany?”

“Yeah, him.”

“He took his elementary-school sister to see a dinosaur flick, huh? I couldn’t have handled it!”

“Let’s see…what grade was I in when we went?”

“I think the sequel, The Lost World, came out three or four years ago now.”

“My brother bought this for me after the film, you know.” She narrowed her eyes nostalgically as she spoke. “I heard the third movie in the series is supposed to come out this summer. Do you want to go see it all together?”

“Sure, okay,” Yagisawa answered.

“How about you, Sou?” Izumi looked at me.

I didn’t feel like I could tell her I wasn’t interested, so I nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

It was the evening of May 17. We were in unit <E-1> at the Freuden Tobii—Izumi Akazawa’s room.

A little after eight, Yagisawa had called up uninvited to my room, asking if I wanted company. Then Izumi came over and said she would treat us to coffee…

“Please have some,” she offered, pouring cups for us. “You know the café by the river, Inoya? This is their blend. It’s got a characteristic mellowness to it. It’s really tasty.”

“Thanks!” Yagisawa took a cup.

“Oh, wait,” Izumi said before bringing in a paper bag from the kitchen. “I’ve got all sorts of doughnuts, too. They’re from my mom.”

“Wow, don’t mind if I do! Thanks, Mom!”

Unexpectedly, we’d started a little nighttime tea party. Yagisawa and I gently toasted with the cups of Inoya-blend coffee Izumi had poured for us.

“I don’t know how we managed to do it, but some congratulations are in order for warding off the start of the ‘calamity’ this past month and a half…I think,” noted Yagisawa. “I wasn’t sure how things were going after last Monday, but nothing has happened since then. Anyway, it’s a relief that it hasn’t begun yet.”

“That’s for sure.” Izumi’s lips curled into a smile. “It’s all thanks to Sou.”

“I don’t really feel like I’m putting in that much effort, though,” I answered as casually as I could manage. I sighed slightly as I added, “And the road ahead is still long…right?”

“By the way, about Hazumi…,” Izumi started.

Yagisawa stopped chewing on his doughnut. “She hasn’t shown up at all this week. Has she gotten in touch with you, Sou?”

“She hasn’t,” I answered quickly.

“Not even once after all that?”

“Nope.”

“Aren’t you worried?”

“Well, kind of.”

“Geez, you’re cold!”

“I said I was kind of worried! But what else can I do?”

“Look, man, first of all, you—”

“I’m the one responsible for failing to stop the rumors from spreading,” Izumi interjected. She bit her lower lip in regret. “Anyone would be shocked to have graffiti like that scrawled on their desk. It’s totally understandable that she couldn’t take it anymore.”

“I don’t think you need to feel so responsible, Akazawa. The people who wrote that stuff are in the wrong.” Yagisawa frowned decisively, then stuffed his half-eaten doughnut into his mouth. He turned to me again. “Sou, you must feel a little responsible, too.”

“Uh…yeah, I guess.”

“If only you’d been a little nicer to her… Well, too late to do anything now.”

It was probably only natural that Yagisawa would want to say that. After all, when I thought back on my various interactions with Hazumi since the morning of the opening ceremony in April, I did feel a twinge of pain in my chest. However—

Was I supposed to put on an act and welcome her advances just because of that?

Though I posed the question to myself, I couldn’t come up with a better solution.

There’s no way that I would have been able to fake it convincingly. And even if I could have, I probably would have ended up hurting her even more in the end…

Yagisawa reacted immediately. “Oh, did they? So how is she?”

“They said no one would come out, no matter how much they called. She probably wasn’t home. Or maybe she was pretending not to be there. She didn’t answer when they called her cell phone, either.”

“Hmm. What about her parents or extended family?”

“Her parents are both busy with work, so they aren’t home very often. It’s always been that way, apparently.”

“They’re basically hands-off. To put it bluntly, they’re neglectful.” I remembered Hazumi telling me that herself.

I had to assume that her parents probably weren’t aware that their daughter hadn’t been to school in a week, much less that they knew about the unique circumstances of Grade 3 Class 3. And even if they did know, they probably didn’t take it seriously. That’s how it seemed to me.

“So at this point, we have no idea whether she’s shut up in her room or wandering around aimlessly outside?” Yagisawa stroked his scraggly chin hairs solemnly.

“But you know, after that,” Izumi continued, “either the day before yesterday or the day before that, someone saw her.”

“Oh? Who?”

“Tsugunaga.”

“The class rep? How did she seem? Hazumi, I mean.”

“Well…” Izumi brought her coffee cup up to her mouth and sighed deeply. “Tsugunaga just happened to catch sight of her sitting in the passenger seat of a car.”

“A car?”

“She said the driver was a young man who looked like a college student. According to Tsugunaga, Hazumi looked like she was really enjoying herself.”

“No way!”

“It was probably her big brother or something, right?” I interjected. But when I realized that Hazumi’s brother was attending college in Tokyo, I added, “Or maybe her brother’s friend?”

“Yagisawa!” Izumi snapped and scowled at him.

He held his tongue and scratched his head.

Later on, I would learn that the young college student was the older brother of Takayuki Nakagawa, the high school boy who had died in a motorcycle accident at the end of April. He was a close friend of his, so Hazumi knew him as “Big Brother Nakagawa.” I’d never met him, so I didn’t have any idea about his character, but she’d once told me that, “Big Brother Nakagawa has always been very kind to me…”

In that case…

If spending time with him can help Hazumi deal with the stress she’s been under since April, if it can soothe her hurt feelings in any way—in that case, there’s no need to worry too much about her skipping school.

10

“I can’t believe midterms are next week!” exclaimed Yagisawa after finishing off his own doughnuts and what was left of my portion, too. He gave a big yawn. “I wish they would waive exams for Class 3 out of respect for our unusual circumstances.”

“And once the tests are over, we’ve got career guidance counseling, too,” I added.

“And they’re calling in my parents for a conference. How ’bout you, Akazawa? Are you going to a public high school like most people?”

“Who knows?” Izumi tilted her head a little to the side, a gloomy look on her face. She glanced at the door to the piano room in the back. “I don’t have the option of going to conservatory anymore. My parents seem to want to send me to a prestigious private girls’ school, but I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“Would the girls’ school be in Yomiyama?”

“It’s in another prefecture, a full-on boarding school.”

“Come on—don’t say it like that.”

“Heh-heh. What are you doing for high school, Sou?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer, so I made some noncommittal noises. “Ah, well…”

The undeniable truth was that my own family had cast me out, so the Akazawas were now responsible for me. Both Uncle Haruhiko and Auntie Sayuri had told me I could go to high school, and even college, but I was torn over whether it was all right for me to presume that of them.

“Speaking of high school, it’s going to be hard for you to keep ‘not existing’ as you study for entrance exams.”

“I normally study alone, so I don’t think it’s going to be much trouble to do both,” I said matter-of-factly. “But it doesn’t feel like it’s really happening yet. The entrance exams aren’t until next year, and there are still seven months left in this one. And of course, there’s the more pressing issue of the ‘calamity’ and the ‘countermeasures’…”

“I still can’t believe this place. How could they let a messed-up situation like this go on for years without doing anything about it?”

“Probably because there’s no scientific explanation for it,” Izumi responded. “Like, there’s no way that a public institution responsible for our education could admit, however obliquely, to being the site of a mysterious supernatural ‘phenomenon.’ Right, Sou?”

“I think that’s part of it. Also, how do I put this? The ‘phenomenon’ probably extends some sort of influence over the entire town of Yomiyama, up to and including altering the awareness and perception of every person who lives here.”

“What do you mean?” Izumi asked.

“Hmm…” Yagisawa frowned and stroked his chin. “The whole thing… Come on, man. I really don’t see how that could be possible.”

“I don’t really get it, either.”

“Hmm—”

“That reminds me,” Izumi interjected, “did you hear that three years ago, when it was an ‘on year,’ someone in the class died on the last day of the first-semester midterm exams?”

Ah, that…

The memory was painful.

An unfortunate accident that had occurred at North Yomiyama Middle School in May, three years back. I remembered reading a newspaper article reporting on it when I was living in Hinami.

“Apparently, a girl who was class representative died at the time,” Izumi continued, “so sounds like Tsugunaga is a little worried.”

“She’s worried because she’s the female class rep?”

Izumi stared Yagisawa straight in the eye as she answered him with a nod. “Yep. Her hunch is totally groundless, though. I mean, think about it. A female class rep dying on the last day of exams this time, just because it happened three years ago? …Give me a break.”

“The ‘calamity’ hasn’t started, so surely there’s no reason to worry about that.”

“You’re right. That’s…spot-on.” Izumi sighed as she placed her hand listlessly against her cheek. “But even I sometimes have a tendency to think the worst, despite myself.”

“Like when?”

“For example, when Mr. Chibiki gave us his opinion on the incident last week. What he said pretty much makes sense to me, but if you take the pessimistic angle, what he actually said was the possibility that the ‘calamity’ has started is low. But what if the most unlikely outcome is what’s really happening…what then?”

“Hey now, it’s bad luck to say that!”

“It is, isn’t it? But it’s also not entirely impossible.”

I thought there was certainly room for doubt.

Even Mr. Chibiki had been extremely cautious about choosing his words. The expression on his face had been somewhat uneasy as well. He hadn’t been able to deny with 100 percent certainty the possibility that the “calamity” had begun.

“I hope our fear turns out to be groundless. Sou’s doing such a good job, and theoretically, a single ‘non-exister’ should be enough. But—” Izumi stopped.

“But?” Yagisawa urged her on.

After a moment’s hesitation, she quickly glanced over to the window and lowered her voice somewhat. “If this is the worst-case scenario, then as a countermeasures officer, I’ve got one last-ditch idea.”

11

“I’m coming to see you next month. I’ve already decided on the days.”

My mother, Tsukiho, called to tell me her plans on Wednesday the 24th—the same day that midterms started. But she had no idea about my situation, of course.

When my phone got the call, I’d glanced at the display and saw that it was coming from Tsukiho, so I was naturally indecisive over whether to answer it or ignore it. As Dr. Usui at the “clinic” had said, I was still harboring very complicated feelings toward her, after all.

It was true that she had thrown me out three years ago, but that didn’t change the fact that she was also my mother. As much as I told myself that there was nothing I could do about this, I went through an emotional roller coaster every time she came up…

So I want you to let me off the phone quickly, was what I wanted to say. But if I blurted that out, it would have been better not to answer in the first place, I thought, scolding myself.

“Ah…,” Tsukiho answered in a fluster. “I’m sorry for interrupting your studies.”

“It’s fine, whatever.”

“So you’re graduating next year, aren’t you?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“What about high school, after graduation?”

“Auntie Sayuri and them said I can go.”

“Ah…you’ve got to talk it over carefully with them, you know,” she said wistfully, then apologized weakly again: “I’m sorry, Sou.”

Despite her apology, there was nothing I could say in response.

“Are you coming? Next month.” I got the conversation back on track. “You said you had decided when you’re visiting?”

“Ah…yes. Yes I have,” Tsukiho answered nervously. “The tenth of next month, Sunday.”

“…I see.”

“Mirei’s coming with me.”

“Oh. And Mr. Hiratsuka, too?”

I hadn’t called Shuuji Hiratsuka, Tsukiho’s second husband and Mirei’s father, “Dad” for years now.

“He’s busy, so…it’ll just be Mirei and me. I thought we could have dinner together or something; it’s been so long. And your little sister also wants to see you.”

I hadn’t seen her even once since leaving Hinami. And I was pretty sure the last time I’d seen Tsukiho was not long after I entered middle school, when she’d come to escort me to the “clinic.”

“I…”

I don’t really want to see either of you, is what I was about to say, but I changed my mind just before I responded.

“That’s fine. Let me know when you’re close.”

May 25, Friday.

It was the second day of the midterm exams, and it had been raining since morning.

It was the kind of rain that wasn’t too heavy but still required an umbrella. But the wind was quite strong, so even if you put one up, your clothes got a little wet.

Despite the weather, I got up earlier than usual that morning and walked down the path along the Yomiyama River for the first time in several days. The water level hadn’t gone up, but the river was muddy, so there were hardly any of the wild birds that I usually spotted on the surface of the water or in the air above it.

The birds are around sometimes even on rainy days like this, though…

As I walked for a while, my thoughts drifted to Yuika Hazumi.

This was the place where she’d first spoken to me at the beginning of April. Only about a month and a half had passed since then, but somehow, it seemed like something that had happened a long time ago.

Hazumi still hadn’t come back to class, and she’d been absent for the exams the day before, too.

Obviously, I was worried about whether she was all right. But I knew that no matter how much I worried, I couldn’t do anything to help.

These days, student truancy was a nationwide issue, and the teachers and administrators at North Yomi were struggling to address it. When I reflected on my time in elementary school, I certainly had no right to scold Hazumi for ditching.

I stopped in at the Akazawa main house for breakfast as always, then headed to class alone.

13

We had tests in first period English and second period science.

That being said, during this particular two-day exam period, my attention was entirely focused on something other than the tests. Namely—

I had happened to see that newspaper headline three years ago in Hinami. I even remembered the date—May 27. The incident it covered had happened on the 26th, the second day of midterm exams at North Yomi…

I was even able to pull some of the content from the article that I had read out of my memory.

The deceased was a female student in the third grade, Yukari Sakuragi. Immediately after she’d received notice of her mother getting caught in a traffic accident, she lost her life in an unfortunate fall. Her mother had also breathed her last that same day at the hospital. They were the first victims of the “calamity” that had occurred three years earlier—in 1998.

According to what Izumi had told me last week, Yukari Sakuragi had been the female class representative at the time for Grade 3 Class 3. So our female class representative, Tsugunaga, seemed a little worried…

But at the start of this week, I had visited the secondary library and gotten some more information from Mr. Chibiki, who told me, “Yes, I remember that day. It had been pouring nonstop since the night before. I think we can say that the rain helped cause the accident.”

“Sakuragi was indeed the female class representative for that year. I even remember her face. She was a very serious-looking girl whose glasses suited her well.”

It happened on the second testing day, right in the middle of the final exam. She’d heard the urgent news—that her mother had been in an accident and was going to the hospital—and rushed out of the classroom in great haste. Just as she started to run down the staircase, her foot gave out, and she went tumbling down. As she fell, she let go of her umbrella, and its pointed tip unfortunately tragically pierced through her throat as she came down…

“I saw it myself; what a gruesome scene. She was taken away in an ambulance, but the blood loss and trauma were extreme, so apparently, she didn’t even make it to the hospital.”

“Oh…”

As he told me, I pictured the graphic circumstances of her death and caught my breath, feeling grim. If Tsugunaga had heard the same story, it would be impossible for her not to worry, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. That’s what I thought anyway.

Regardless, today was the second day of midterms. The first-period English exam had ended without incident, and the second-period science exam had begun…

When there were about ten minutes left until the end of the exam period, I turned in my answer sheet and left the classroom. The questions had covered an area I knew well, so I’d answered them all quickly.

The proctor for this exam was Ms. Kanbayashi, but she didn’t object to my leaving early. Of course, that was because I “didn’t exist.”

Of the desks and chairs that lined the classroom, two were empty again today. One was Hazumi’s seat. The other belonged to the girl who’d been hospitalized since April.

Her name was…yeah, I think it was Makise? No, Makino?

I stepped out into the hallway alone, opened the window a little, and gazed out. The rain was still falling, and the wind was strong.

When I turned to look at the state of the hallway floor, I noticed it was wet and dirty in places. North Yomi doesn’t use indoor slippers, so the water and mud on people’s shoes and umbrellas get tracked into the school building… I bet it was like this three years ago, too. In the hallway, on the stairs. That’s why Sakuragi slipped on the way down…

“…It’s fine.” I shook my head and tried to talk myself out of getting worked up. “This year will be okay.”

Finally, the bell signaling the end of the period began to ring, but right after it did, something happened. I heard the sound of hurried footsteps coming from the stairwell.

Before long, a male teacher whose face I recognized but whose name I didn’t know showed up. He passed right in front of where I was standing by the window and bolted into the Class 3 classroom. From inside the room where the exam had just concluded came a low commotion.

Just as I was wondering what it could be, a single female student came rushing out of the door.

That’s…Takanashi? Jun Takanashi. The girl whose first-year little brother just joined the biology club.

She was holding her bag in her right hand, and with her left, she snatched her umbrella from the stand. Her face was pale, and her movements were panicked…and just then—

“Don’t run in the hallway!”

A high-pitched voice echoed down the corridor.

“And don’t run down the stairs. Calm down, Takanashi. Be careful!”

“Be careful, Takanashi. Okay? Understand?”

The other girl smiled awkwardly in response, her face still pale but otherwise grateful. She adjusted her grip on her bag and umbrella, took a big breath with her shoulders, and set off walking toward the stairs.

Since I couldn’t say anything, I just watched over her as she went.

As she saw Takanashi go, Tsugunaga let out a deep, long sigh. Her face was just as pale as Takanashi’s.

14

The teacher had run into our classroom with an urgent message—Jun Takanashi’s mother had been in some sort of accident and sustained serious injuries. It was as if the incident three years ago—as if Yukari Sakuragi’s case—was being copied to the letter.

After she left, however, Takanashi had met up with her little brother, who had received the same news, and they safely headed for the hospital where their mother had been transported.

After hearing Ms. Kanbayashi’s explanation during homeroom following the end of exams—

I didn’t immediately go home, so I stopped in to visit the biology club room instead. Shunsuke Kouda was there like usual, so I went over what had just happened with him.

“I wonder what condition Takanashi’s mom is in,” Shunsuke said, wiping his glasses. “Even if the two of them are safe, if something bad happened to their mom, do you think that might constitute the start of the ‘calamity’?”

I didn’t know how to answer, so I cast my eyes down. I couldn’t guess what kind of accident she had been in, but all I could do was pray it wasn’t life-threatening.

“It’s been a while since you came to club, right?”

“Ah…I guess it has.”

“None of them wants to become a specimen.”

“That’s right. The diaphanized Amano shrimp turned out nicely. Want to see?”

“Mm, maybe next time.”

“That science test was a piece of cake, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“How about the striped loach specimen?”

“I’ll see that next time, too.”

And so on… We kept chatting for a bit, then left school together.

“You’re continuing to ‘not exist’ even after that Hazumi girl dropped out, right, Sou?”

“Ah, yeah.”

“And that preserves the peace in your class?”

“For now, yeah. If Takanashi’s mother is all right, that is.”

“I really hope she’s okay.”

“No kidding.”

With a heavy feeling that wouldn’t clear up at all, we proceeded down the hallway of Building Zero. On the way, we passed in front of the secondary library, but the CLOSED sign was out on the door.

It must be shuttered during the exam period. Either that or Mr. Chibiki is taking more leave from school.

Outside, it was still raining. The wind was also blowing strongly; the old building was creaking here and there.

We went through the connecting passage from Building Zero to Building A, where the front entrance was located. From there, we stepped outside. We each put up our umbrellas and started walking down the paved path to the school gates, when—

We could make out the figures of several students walking in front of us. They were less than ten meters away.

“Are those girls from Class 3?” Shunsuke pointed and asked. “Look, Akazawa’s up there.”

Of the other two, one was carrying a clear plastic umbrella. She was a little taller than Izumi and had a short haircut.

That must be Etou. And the other girl is—

The last student had a small build, and unlike the others, she wasn’t carrying an umbrella. She wore a raincoat (which was actually more of a loose cream-colored poncho) with the hood up… She looked as though she hadn’t brought an umbrella along in the first place.

Is that Tsugunaga? Could it be?

Just then, I guessed what had happened.

Out of an abundance of concern over the incident three years ago with Yukari Sakuragi, Tsugunaga had intentionally avoided taking an umbrella with her, despite the elements. That probably meant that she knew about the details of the accident three years ago. She knew that the lethal weapon that spurred Sakuragi’s death had been the umbrella she’d been carrying…and so…

That was probably also why Tsugunaga was worried when Takanashi went tearing out of the classroom right after the science exam ended. If Takanashi had run down the stairs in a big hurry just like Sakuragi did three years ago, the same thing might have happened. Fearing that, she instinctively…

Suddenly, a fierce noise echoed through the air, startling us.

Gora-gora-gora…boom!

Was that the wind? It must be much stronger than what’s been blowing all day.

Is it sweeping through the upper atmosphere? Or maybe along the ground?

As I glanced around restlessly, all the trees surrounding us rustled and shook in unison—sh-sh-shh! The gale reached us and sent our parasols blowing away.

“Wow, that came on really suddenly, huh?” Shunsuke remarked. “It’s like a typhoon is coming or something.” Just as he said that, the intensity of the pouring rain doubled.

Is it up in the air, or did it come from the ground?

I could see two out of the three girls ahead of us struggling to keep their umbrellas from flying away. Tsugunaga was fighting to hold her poncho in place as the wind buffeted it …

As I was watching her, she suddenly fell to her knees on the pavement. Her hood had already come off her head.

What happened?

Tsugunaga tried to stand back up, but she looked like she couldn’t move very well. Maybe that was due to the storm… No, the hem of her poncho probably got caught on the fence separating the path and the row of trees planted alongside it. That’s what it looked like to me anyway.

The wind howled, and the rain gushed down. In between gusts, another strange sound suddenly rang out—that’s how it seemed, at least. A second later, something coming diagonally from above cut a path through the shining white streaks of rain. An unidentifiable gray shadow…

Someone let out a short shriek. It was probably Tsugunaga. Both Shunsuke and I could hear it from a distance.

“No!” That was Izumi’s or Etou’s voice.

“Oh no!”

“What? What is this?”

“Tsugunaga?!”

“Th-they need help!” Shunsuke shouted beside me. Tossing his umbrella aside, he took off running furiously through the downpour.

I chased after him in a panic, and by that point, I could see that an obvious change had come over Tsugunaga.

She had stopped moving, still kneeling on the path, and was looking up at the sky. Something gray was sticking diagonally down into the right side of her neck. And—

A vivid red was beginning to stain her cream-colored poncho.

No sooner was the red washed away by the rain than it flowed down anew…

As I rushed over, I finally understood the situation.

The object buried deep in Tsugunaga’s neck was a piece of gray-painted metal, probably a sheet of galvanized steel or something—long, thin, and quite large.

It had flown out of nowhere to pierce her throat like a blade.

“Tsugunaga…!” Izumi had thrown her parasol aside just like Shunsuke and I had, and I could see her lips were trembling with fear as she spoke. Etou had slumped to the ground in a daze, several meters back. “How could it end up like this…?”

The class rep remained locked in place, still looking up at the sky. An anguished groan escaped her mouth, along with bubbles of blood.

She’s still breathing.

“An ambulance!” Shunsuke shouted, pulling out his own cell phone.

Izumi gasped in surprise. I turned and saw Tsugunaga lifting both hands unsteadily, trying to grab hold of the metal plate that was sticking out of her neck.

Ah, don’t do that! I immediately thought, panicked. You can’t! If you pull it out now…

But my panic was fruitless in the end.

I’m sure Tsugunaga couldn’t even comprehend what on earth had happened to her—

Driven by the intense pain, the girl used the last bit of her remaining strength to dislodge the foreign object that had embedded itself in her flesh. The moment she did, fresh fluid spurted with alarming force from the open wound.

As her blood dyed the still-falling rain red, Tsugunaga collapsed limply and completely ceased moving.

15

By the time the ambulance arrived, Tomoko Tsugunaga had already died from blood loss. On the 25th of May, 1:30 in the afternoon.

It was an unbelievably unlucky coincidence that a fragment of the roof would get blown off and tossed up in the air like that and then, of all things, come falling down to strike Tsugunaga at just the right angle while she was held up on the path.

Late at night on the same day, May 25, Jun Takanashi’s mother, Shizu, breathed her last in the hospital.

Earlier that day, she’d been in a minor collision with a small automobile. She’d broken her hip, but her situation hadn’t seemed life-threatening when at the hospital. And when her children rushed over after hearing about the emergency, she had apparently been fully conscious.

Overnight, however, her condition suddenly took a turn for the worse. During the accident, she had suffered a blow to the head that somehow went overlooked during her intake examination; the resulting brain hemorrhage caused her death.

Two people “related” to Grade 3 Class 3 met their irrational deaths in the span of a single day.

At last, the dreaded “calamity” has begun… No, it probably had already started when Joukichi Kanbayashi died, as we suspected.

Whether we liked it or not, reality had come knocking at the door.

But yeesh, talk about bad luck. Of all the things that could happen…

Yeah. But you know, she was in Grade 3 Class 3.

What’s so special about that?

What, you don’t know?

Know what?

I’m surprised there’s anyone who isn’t aware. According to the rumor, Grade 3 Class 3 has been cursed for a long time…

It’s begun, hasn’t it?

It has.

The “calamity” has begun.

Yes.

So the “countermeasures” failed after all?

That’s what it comes down to. It’s…unfortunate.

It must be because Hazumi, the “second non-exister,” called it quits…

Probably, yeah.

Could it be anything else?

It’s not clear. But we can’t stop people blaming her now…

…………

…………

……So?

Hmm?

So what should we do now? There’s no point in my keeping being a “non-exister” anymore.

That’s… Well, listen, I’d like you to hold off on that for a bit.

Wait?

I told you before, didn’t I? If this is the worst-case scenario, I’ve got one last-ditch idea.

Uh…yeah, sure.

Why…what’s your idea?

Okay, here it is…

It’s started. The “calamity” has begun.

Really? I heard it was the female class representative on exam day, just like three years ago. Though that could simply be a coincidence, of course.

If you include Ms. Kanbayashi’s older brother, there have already been three casualties.

So it probably started on May 7, huh?

The day that Hazumi resigned. I knew it…

I thought that wouldn’t do anything, though.

We were supposed to be all right as long as I took it seriously, weren’t we?

Yes, that’s how it was supposed to be.

But it didn’t turn out that way.

It shouldn’t have happened…so why?

…………

Something feels off… Ah, I’m sorry, Sou.

Oh no…

You trusted in what I said, didn’t you? I’m sorry.

Oh. It’s not like that; you don’t have anything to apologize for, Mei…

…………

……And now that it’s started, more people are going to die, aren’t they?

…………

At least one “related individual” a month.

Yes.

And there’s nothing we can do about it anymore, right? Once the “calamity” starts up, it’s over.

Yes. Basically…

Wait, really?

Let’s look into it for now. We won’t know whether it’ll do anything until we try, though.

Hmm. And just what kind of “countermeasure” is it?

It’s…

“Were you close with the student who died, by any chance?” he asked.

“No.” I shook my head side to side. “We’d talked a bit, but that’s all.”

“Still, I’m sure it must have been quite a shock.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Are you all right? What I’m trying to ask is, does it hurt that a graphic death happened close to you? Is it bringing back memories of the incident three years ago?”

“I’m fine,” I answered, my eyes still on the floor. “…I think.”

I’m not sleeping well, and I can’t stop having nightmares.

I’d been experiencing the usual symptoms this past week, but it had nothing to do with the events of three years ago.

The visions in my nightmares weren’t from that time; they were recent—especially incidents from the past month. Her voice shouting, “I exist!” and “I’m right here!” The pitch-black figure of the crow flapping about the room. The boom! of the wind and the disheveled cream-colored poncho…and then the fresh, spurting blood. That girl collapsing, covered in so much blood…

This hadn’t been my first time seeing someone die. Three years ago, I’d witnessed Uncle Teruya’s death at Lakeshore Manor. And yet—

Even though they were both “deaths,” I felt like what happened then and what happened last week were completely different things.

One difference was the feeling of guilt that had settled into my gut, the frustration and sense of helplessness at having not been able to prevent the start of the “calamity.” And if Hazumi’s defection was actually the reason why our efforts had failed, then I bore the responsibility for my failure to keep her from quitting… In other words, I was carrying unbearable feelings of personal responsibility.

Dr. Usui was persistently calm and gentle as he asked his questions, but I didn’t think I was honest with most of my answers. I wasn’t sure whether or not he realized it.

“I’d like to ask you about a strange rumor going around.”

After an exchange that superficially resembled my usual monthly or bimonthly sessions, Dr. Usui abruptly changed the subject.

“I hear there’s a strange legend concerning ‘death’ at the middle school you attend…”

He’s aware of it, too, huh?

I suppose it’s inevitable that rumors would spread.

I didn’t dislike Dr. Usui; in fact, I trusted him, but I had never spoken a word to him about the peculiar circumstances of Grade 3 Class 3. Not about the “phenomenon,” or the “accidents,” or the “casualty” who joined the class, or about the falsification and alteration of records and memories… No matter how seriously I might try to discuss those things, I was sure there was no way that a doctor of psychiatry would take me seriously. Not so long as he himself wasn’t a related party. That’s what I’d assumed.

“I don’t know what legend that would be.” I decided to dodge his question this time. “I’m sure it’s just some half-baked story. I’m not interested in that kind of thing.”

3

Although it wasn’t really raining, I left the same way I had the last time when my appointment was over, without really knowing why. I went through the passage on the first floor, from the annex to the main building. As I was moving slowly down the complex, twisting corridor exactly as I’d done last time—

My thoughts drifted back to the past of their own accord. To two days after the gruesome accident that was painful to even recall—to Sunday evening, when Izumi had come over to my apartment. The words we’d exchanged then were still fresh in my ears.

“If this is the worst-case scenario, then I’ve got one last-ditch idea.” That’s what Izumi had said before.

“Well, it’s—” Izumi broke off and stared directly into my face. After a short pause, she said, “You remember what happened at the ‘strategy session’ at the end of March, right? When we decided who would be the ‘non-exister’ if this turned out to be an ‘on year’?”

“Yeah. Of course I remember that.”

When the conversation had turned to the question of who among us would bear the burden of “nonexistence,” I had raised my hand. But right after that, Etou had commented, “Is that really all we need to do?” leading to us choosing a “second.” After that, we’d used playing cards to draw lots…

“They picked out the person with cards, right? That’s when Hazumi pulled the joker and became the ‘second,’ but… Okay, so think back. To before that happened.”

Izumi narrowed her almond-shaped eyes, as if she was looking at something far away. I narrowed mine in tandem. “Before that?”

As I asked the question, I searched my memory.

Izumi replied, “Before the lottery began, someone else tried to volunteer, right? In a small, quiet voice that everyone was a little surprised to hear. Why so suddenly? We all wondered…”

“…Ah!”

The scene on that day more than two months ago burst forth in my mind, as though revealing itself out from the darkness. That’s right. Now I remember—something like that did happen. There was someone other than me who volunteered to accept the role of the “non-exister,” and I was a little surprised when they did…

“…But ultimately, their offer wasn’t recognized, so we went ahead with the lottery, right?”

“The cards had already been shuffled, and I think…yeah, Hazumi said in a weird, panicked way, ‘You can’t do that now,’ then immediately started the lottery drawing.”

“Ah…you’re right. I guess that is how it went.”

If that was true, then by that time, Hazumi must have already noticed the mark on the joker and made her decision to become the “second.” So…

“Makise…”

…Right. That’s correct. Her name was Makise. I can’t picture her face very well, but she had a small, quiet voice and was sort of a feeble, inconspicuous girl…

“She had some pretty serious health problems and needed to be hospitalized for a while starting in April, right?” Izumi said, then blinked slowly. I felt as if my own vision blacked out for a second in time with the movement of her eyelids.

“That’s why she volunteered at the meeting. She didn’t tell everyone this, but since she wouldn’t be able to come to school that much anyway, I bet she was thinking it might be best to take on the role of the ‘non-exister’ herself, don’t you think?”

Now that Izumi had pointed it out, I could see how the proposal did make a certain amount of sense. Even if she was out of school and hospitalized, that wouldn’t change the fact that she was a member of Grade 3 Class 3. Ignoring her as the “non-exister” would have been easy for everyone else, physically and psychologically. Much simpler than if anyone else did it. And yet—

—her proposal hadn’t been accepted. Then Hazumi had pulled the joker, becoming the “second non-exister.”

Izumi continued. “I’ve been thinking about talking to Makise again and getting her to replace Hazumi as the ‘second non-exister.’”

“Ah…”

I see, so that’s it. But I wonder how that will go? I wonder if that could really shut down the “calamity” now that it’s already begun?

“So to solve this problem, I’m sure that finding a ‘power balance’ will be essential. That’s how it seems to me, at least.”

“What do you mean?”

“An ‘extra person,’ the ‘casualty,’ has appeared in our class and invited the ‘calamity.’ But by designating ‘non-existers,’ we prevented the ‘calamity’ from starting. The ‘power’ of the ‘casualty’ pulling us toward ‘death’ is offset by the ‘power’ of the ‘non-existers,’ maintaining a balance. That’s how I see it.”

“This year, we established two ‘non-existers,’ just to be safe. In doing so, we kept the ‘calamity’ from starting in April, which means the equilibrium was correct, right? However, once Hazumi abandoned her duties in May, the ‘calamity’ started. That must mean we’re working with a different power dynamic this year.”

“Wait…you mean that we’re out of alignment with only one ‘non-exister’?”

“Out of whack, off balance…yes, that’s the picture. If we don’t increase the ‘power’ of the ‘non-existers,’ we won’t be able to negate the ‘power’ of this year’s ‘casualty’…get it?”

So the theory is that by enlisting another “non-exister,” we can restore the equilibrium that Hazumi upset when she abdicated her position? And if we do that, it should stop the “calamity”?

Izumi reemphasized that she didn’t know if her line of thinking was correct, or if it would do anything at all, but that we couldn’t know until we tried. She also insisted it was better than doing nothing.

I agreed with her. I’m sure she’s probably right. And it’s certainly better than sitting on our hands…

Three days after our conversation, on Wednesday, the countermeasures officers Izumi and Etou went as representatives of the class and visited Makise, who was hospitalized in the internal medicine ward of the same hospital that housed my clinic—this had been on May 30.

Apparently, Makise had been sympathetic and kindly accepted the request, telling Izumi, “I’ll be glad to help if I can.” She was likely to be hospitalized for quite some time, so being a “non-exister” was no big deal to her for now. And she’d promised that even when she could leave the hospital and return to school, she would be fine with continuing to be a “non-exister” if it would curtail the “calamity.”

Today was the fourth day since this new and desperate “countermeasure” had been put into practice.

As I was walking down a hallway in the main hospital building, I was suddenly struck by the urge to go find Makise’s room.

Although I hadn’t had the chance to see her at school for some time now, starting this month, she and I were going to both be “non-existers”… That’s as far as that thought went before I decided to give up on the idea for the day. I had a feeling that it would be insensitive for a boy from her class to suddenly show up for a visit. Plus, I couldn’t say what would come of my having contact with her here…

But…

She was still my classmate. I’d met her only once at the “strategy session,” and I could barely recall her face.

Now that she’s in the middle of a long hospital stay, I wonder what’s on her mind. How is she passing the time? When I imagined her anxiety and loneliness, another set of problems entirely from everything surrounding the “calamity,” it felt unbearable. It made me want to visit her someday soon, maybe with Izumi.

It was about thirty minutes past noon when I finished paying at the hospital desk. I hadn’t come by bicycle that day, so I waited at the bus stop in front of the building for a while, standing with several other people who, as far as I could tell, were all older than I was.

The bus finally arrived under a featureless cloudy sky, as though foreshadowing the start of the rainy season. Getting my coins ready, I was heading for the door in the center of the vehicle when—

The disembarking passengers exited from every door of the bus. When I looked up inadvertently, I saw a familiar face.

Is that…

…Kirika?

I’d seen her for only a moment, so it was possible that I had made a mistake. But on the other hand, I also remembered passing a woman who looked a lot like her in the entryway on my way home last time I came here.

In which case, I bet that really was her…

Thinking exactly the same thing I had last time, I boarded the bus.

5

After getting off at the Daybreak Forest stop in Romero, I visited the library, then ate at a nearby fast-food restaurant before setting out on foot toward Misaki. I was headed for the doll gallery “Blue Eyes Empty to All, in the Twilight of Yomi,” and I needed to be there by 3:30.

I had plans to meet Mei Misaki.

We’d gotten confirmation that the “calamity” had started with the deaths of two people, Tsugunaga and Takanashi’s mother, and I’d been able to speak with Mei only over the phone since then. As might be expected, I wanted to speak with her in person. I felt it was urgent, so here I was.

It was the first time I had come to see her at the “Blue Eyes…” gallery since mid-April.

More than a month and a half had passed since our last meeting. The situation had changed considerably, but the inside of the gallery was, as always, hushed and still, as if entirely detached from the outside world. As usual, a haunting string melody was playing, and as usual, Grandma Amane was the one to greet me.

“Welcome. You’re a friend, so you don’t need to pay. Mei is downstairs.”

“Thank you.”

Mei was sitting alone in a chair at the same round table I’d seen when I’d visited in April, with her chin resting on her hand. She was wearing a dark-blue, almost black blouse and seemed like she might dissolve right into the crouching shadows that filled the space. Something about her was quite gloomy.

“Hello, Sou.” Mei took her chin off her hand and greeted me. “It’s been a while since our last rendezvous.”

“Sit.”

“Okay.” I sat down across from her.

Mei had her eye patch off again today. She wasn’t wearing her “doll’s eye” in her left socket but the artificial eye that was black flecked with brown.

“So…” After staring silently at me for several seconds, Mei opened her mouth. “Are you okay?”

“Okay…? Do you mean the class?” I answered her question with a question, and Mei shook her head side to side.

“I mean you, Sou.”

“Me…?”

“How are you feeling; where’s your head at? I’m wondering how you’re holding up after everything that’s happened.”

“Ah…ummm, well…”

“You did your best, but the ‘calamity’ started anyway. You’re not beating yourself up or feeling disheartened, are you?”

“Well, I would be lying to say that I’m not disheartened at all, but…”

Despite everything that was going on, Mei was worried about my feelings. I was ashamed of how happy that made me.

“But I’m all right.” I tried to answer her as calmly as I could.

“The accident last week with that girl Tsugunaga happened right in front of your eyes, didn’t it?”

“That was…yeah, of course, it was really shocking, but, well…yeah, I’m okay.”

“Really?’

“At least, I’m not thinking that I’m ready to run away from this place or anything.”

“I see.”

The music flowing through the building changed to a familiar tune. It was Fauré’s “Sicilienne.”

If I recall correctly, this piece was playing when I visited in April, too…

The coincidence stuck out to me.

“By the way—” I started to say.

I panicked and held my tongue while she continued speaking.

“About the new ‘countermeasure’ I heard about on the phone the other day…you’ve started that already, right?”

“Uh, yes.” I sat up straight and nodded. “A new ‘second non-exister’ has replaced Hazumi. We hope to bring the ‘power’ back into alignment that way; that’s the ‘countermeasure’…”

I told Mei again about the new “countermeasure” that I had explained quickly on the phone the other day.

“…And the girl who we approached about taking on the role of the new ‘second’ already agreed and accepted. Today’s day four.”

“…I see.”

Mei answered me like that again, then looked away from me with her right eye. She had her chin in her hands just like last time I’d come down here. She seemed listless.

I heard the faint tinkling of the bell on the door upstairs.

I guess a customer showed up? Or maybe it’s Kirika coming home…?

“But you know, Sou,” Mei murmured, “I think you’d better not be too optimistic about whether this new ‘countermeasure’ is going to be effective. Though I doubt my saying so means very much.”

“Why do you think I shouldn’t be optimistic?”

“Well…” Mei hesitated. “Because that’s what happened three years ago.”

I was at a loss for words.

Mei continued. “I told you about this before, right? About how I took on the role of the ‘non-exister’ for Grade 3 Class 3 three years ago. Back then, our ‘countermeasures’ also failed, and the ‘calamity’ began, so at that point, we decided it would be a good idea to make Sakakibara into the ‘second non-exister’ to increase the number of people who ‘didn’t exist.’ But in the end, this ‘additional countermeasure’ produced no results.”

“But this time is totally different from what happened three years ago,” I countered. “We had two ‘non-existers’ from the outset, and the ‘calamity’ started after one of them abandoned her duties. So now we’re going back to two people to restore the balance…see?”

I was once again speechless. She shook her head slowly and continued. “Ah…but you know, the very act of coming to this conclusion probably actually means nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Since it’s a natural phenomenon and all.”

Hearing Mei’s response automatically brought to mind the phrase that Mr. Chibiki liked to use, “a supernatural natural phenomenon.”

“Thanks to Mr. Chibiki’s observations, we understand some of the rules governing the ‘phenomenon,’” Mei continued. “And we know that there are effective ‘countermeasures’ against it…but those things are probably just one part of the whole picture.”

“…………”

“Even now, with science as developed as it is, we still can’t accurately predict and prevent the occurrence of all sorts of natural phenomena, right? Like typhoons or earthquakes. Even if you know it’s going to rain today and carry an umbrella with you, it doesn’t guarantee that you’re going to make it through the day without getting wet. If there’s a strong wind and the rain comes down sideways, your clothes are going to wind up soaked no matter how big your parasol. And if the rain turned to hail, your umbrella might get torn to shreds. Unforeseen things are happening constantly.

“To say nothing of the fact that this ‘phenomenon’ is a ‘supernatural natural phenomenon’ that defies scientific explanation…so from my modest experience and best guess, your plan probably won’t amount to much. That’s how it seems to me.”

So what you’re saying is that our new “countermeasures” might be pointless? Her wording made it seem like you could also interpret her assessment that way.

“But you can’t say it will fail for sure, either, right?” I prodded.

“Hey, Mei?” I couldn’t help but ask at this point: “During the ‘calamity’ three years ago, neither the original ‘countermeasures’ nor the ‘additional countermeasures’ worked out, and a number of ‘related individuals’ died…but after that, it all stopped, right? Why was that? Why did it stop?”

It was a question I’d tried to bring up countless times before. But Mei never gave me a clear answer. I was sure there was something there she didn’t really want to talk about. I had sensed that and tried not to pry too deeply, but…

“…It stopped because—”

After a short silence, Mei’s lips parted. I laced my fingers together on top of the round table. Without meaning to, I pressed my fingertips tightly into my hands.

“Because…” She was trying to respond, but she anxiously shook her head a little. “This is one thing that I…”

Just then—

I heard something behind me. The sound of someone descending the stairs…and then a voice.

“Oh, here you are.”

A familiar female voice, belonging to someone with whom I spoke nearly every day.

“Sou? Do you come here often?”

When I turned around in shock, I saw Izumi Akazawa standing there in her school uniform.

6

Come to think of it—actually, there was no reason to think too hard—I’d hardly ever spoken about Mei Misaki to any of my friends. Only to Yagisawa, who’d been my “comrade” ever since our first year. I do remember telling him a little bit about her, but regardless, the two of them had never met.

“Akazawa…” I got up out of my chair and turned to face Izumi, who’d come down the stairs. “Why are you here?”

“Just by chance. A total coincidence.” After answering my inquiry with an earnest expression, Izumi laughed jokingly. “That’s a lie, of course.”

“Um…”

“I was on my way home from school when I just kind of had the urge to drop by the library at Daybreak Forest. And then I spotted you going into a nearby shop, Sou.”

“Huh, you did?”

“We were close enough that you could have recognized me, but you didn’t notice I was there…so that’s pretty much what happened.”

“You followed me?”

“I sort of got curious about where you were going…okay?” She broke into a grin and stuck her tongue out playfully. “But wow, Sou, you’re surprisingly unobservant. I was following you pretty conspicuously, but you didn’t notice me at all.”

“Hmm.”

I was obviously concerned about what Mei was thinking during this exchange of ours. I was worried she might be disappointed to have our conversation cut off by this sudden development.

“Is this a friend of yours, Sou?”

I turned around quickly at Mei’s question.

“Not exactly a friend—um, she’s my cousin. We’re the same age and in the same class now.”

“I’m Izumi Akazawa. Pleased to meet you,” she said over my shoulder.

“Ah,” Mei reacted. “Akazawa…same as the aunt and uncle who are taking care of Sou?”

“Uh, that’s right,” I answered. “She’s a countermeasures officer this year and also the new female class representative…”

I went ahead with the explanation, but Izumi cautioned me while staring straight into my eyes, “Wait a second, Sou!” Her look seemed to be asking, Who is this person?

“Misaki…hmm?”

Sure enough, Izumi reacted to the fact that Mei’s last name sounded the same as the name of the student who’d famously died twenty-nine years ago—Misaki Yomiyama. She raised her eyebrows a little, as if putting her guard up.

I continued. “The Hiratsukas used to be good friends with the Misakis, which is how I got to know them. We’ve stayed close since I moved here. Misaki is a 1999 graduate of North Yomi, and she was in Class 3 in her third year. That was also an ‘on year,’ so she has experience with the ‘phenomenon’ and the ‘accidents,’ too…”

When I had explained as much, Izumi seemed to get it. She swung her backpack around in front of her and placed both hands on top of it. “I see…,” she mumbled. “So you’ve come for an expert opinion, huh?”

“Well, yeah, something like that.”

As for the fact that Mei had taken on the role of the “non-exister” three years earlier…I didn’t think I needed to reveal that just then. I thought the same about mentioning her opinion on the new “countermeasures” we’d just implemented three days prior.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Akazawa.” This time it was Mei who spoke to Izumi. “I’m Mei Misaki.”

At this point, I was still standing in between both girls, blocking them from looking directly at each other.

Mei stood up out of her chair; Izumi took a step forward…and I moved from beside the round table toward the middle of the room. The result was that the two of them were facing each other at a distance of several meters. I think that was when they first got a good look at each other’s faces, in the silence of the several-second gap between the songs playing in the background. Coincidentally, the next song that began to play was “Sicilienne” again…

“Mei…Misaki…”

I thought I could see surprise or maybe confusion surface in Izumi’s eyes as she gazed at her face.

Izumi stopped whatever she’d been about to say, then shook her head slightly, right to left. She put one of the hands that had been resting on top of her bag to her forehead and sighed faintly.

Just as I was wondering what was going on with her, she took another step forward, further closing the gap between her and Mei. “Thanks for looking after Sou,” she said in a strangely formal tone. “As his cousin, I’d like to express my gratitude—”

“Hang on, hang on!” I interjected despite myself. “That’s not really something you need to thank her for.”

Izumi glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “I may be your cousin, Sou, but somehow you feel more like a little brother to me, so…”

“Come on—that’s not…”

I gave up trying to object. Sure enough, Izumi had always felt kind of like an older sister to me, right from the start. But here—in front of Mei, a person she was meeting for the first time—she didn’t have to play that up, in my opinion.

When I peeked over at Mei, she looked as indifferent as ever, quietly staring at Izumi, her expression blank.

“Izumi…Akazawa.” I could hear her quietly mumbling. “Akazawa…”

What’s up with her? Maybe it’s my imagination, but she looks like she’s trying to remember something important…

Thud.

A low reverberation materialized from outside my hearing range. At almost the exact same moment, I sensed the world go black for a split second, and my breathing stopped.

This is…

It’s like someone outside the world just clicked a camera shutter closed. Like someone turned out the lights.

These strange images surfaced momentarily in my mind, then disappeared just as quickly.

Ah, what could it be?

The question itself vanished after a moment.

“Uh, yes.” Izumi accepted Mei’s gaze and words without seeming overwhelmed.

Mei continued in the same tone. “Even though I experienced it three years ago, I’m not currently involved, so I’m not really in a position to form an opinion on this or that. Though I can give a certain amount of advice if you ask.”

“We’re doing our very best,” Izumi stated. “We’re trying to keep the situation from getting any worse, however we can.”

“I know you both have it hard. Sou as a ‘non-exister’ and you as a countermeasures officer. And it’s clear that you’re trying your best. But—” Here, Mei turned to me. “If you feel you can’t take it anymore, if you just can’t stand it, Sou, you can run away.”

“Run away…?” I shrank from her gaze, surprised. “By that, do you mean like Uncle Teruya did?”

As soon as I said that, my chest tightened. I recalled the many words I had once exchanged with Teruya at Lakeshore Manor in Hinami, and they threatened to break right through my flimsy rib cage and spill out into the void.

“I would absolutely never do anything like—”

“This place is incredible!” Just then, Izumi interjected, quite indifferent to what I was going through. It wasn’t clear whether or not she meant to distract from my distress. Leaving the round table to walk deeper into the room, she slowly surveyed her surroundings. “There are so many of these spooky dolls. Do you like this sort of thing, Misaki?”

“Do I like them? Well, this is my house, so…,” she answered.

Izumi looked surprised. “Oh, I didn’t know.”

“The second floor is the workshop,” I added in explanation. “Mei’s mother, Kirika, makes the dolls there.”

“Come to think of it, wasn’t there one in your room, Sou? A figure like the ones here?”

“Do you like them, Miss Akazawa? Dolls like these?” Mei asked, a smile rising on her pale cheeks.

“Hmm.” Izumi thought for a little while. “Good question. To me, they’re a little, how do I put it…?”

“Unpleasant?”

“Not unpleasant exactly…” Izumi pouted dramatically, then smiled like Mei as she answered. “I think they’re incredible, but they don’t really resonate with me. They’re too pretty, and sort of scary, and I can’t keep from staring at them somehow…yeah. Dinosaur figurines are more of my thing.”

7

Rain started falling on Sunday afternoon. The next day, Monday, it was still raining. Tuesday was rainy, too. Then, on Wednesday, it was officially announced that the rainy season had begun, and the overcast, wet weather persisted for the rest of the week.

And every day that week, a kind of cold, damp tension hung in the air of the Grade 3 Class 3 classroom.

We were continuing with our “countermeasures” after establishing a new “second non-exister.” No one knew whether it would work yet. It would be great if it was effective, but if it turned out to be nothing more than pointless resistance, then—

The “calamity” would continue its onslaught, and a “related individual” would die that month.

Back in March, when the “handover ceremony” and “strategy session” had taken place, I’m sure that some of the students had doubted whether the “phenomenon” and the “accidents” were real. I believed some students had been incredulous ever since the day of the opening ceremony, when it became clear that this was an “on year” and the class-wide “countermeasures” kicked off. But ever since our classmate Tsugunaga had died the previous month, even the skeptics had been forced to completely abandon their initial skepticism.

Everyone was wondering who the next “accident” would claim if our new “countermeasures” failed. Who was going to succumb?

We were only teenagers, but we were already facing down “death” at an age when we wouldn’t normally be aware of the pull it had on us. Each and every one of us had already been forced to accept the twisted “reality” of our strange situation.

Thankfully, the week passed without incident.

Perhaps we two “non-existers,” the hospitalized Makise and me, had restored the temporarily broken balance of “power”—I wanted to believe that was true. And it wasn’t just me. The same went for Izumi and the other countermeasures officers, Yagisawa, Ms. Kanbayashi, and all the other students, too… I’m certain they all felt the same.

8

Saturday, June 9.

School was not in session, since it was the second Saturday of the month, but I woke up early in the morning as always. Typical of the season, it was pouring buckets outside, and I felt a little melancholy as I realized that it would be another rainy day. I didn’t feel like getting up right away, but once I did, I felt no enthusiasm for venturing down to the Akazawa house for breakfast… Auntie Sayuri called to ask what was the matter, but I told her, “I’ll come up with something on my own for breakfast and lunch.” And so, even into the afternoon, I shut myself up in my room, idly passing the time.

Though I’d washed my face and changed my clothes, I laid back down in the bed right away, sighing weakly over and over. I was being undeniably pathetic, and I felt irritated with myself. It was all because—

I’d gotten a call from Tsukiho. Right after speaking with Auntie Sayuri this morning.

“We’re coming to Yomiyama on June 10, so I thought we could eat a meal together or something; it’s been so long”—I remembered exactly what she’d said during our last phone call. And there was probably some part of me, however tiny, that had been looking forward to that day, so…that’s why.

“Oh, I see,” I’d answered bluntly, while some part of my heart groaned dully. The groan eventually collected at a point deep in my chest and formed a heavy mass.

“I’m sorry,” Tsukiho repeated. “But I can’t go anywhere. I’ll have to postpone my visit…to later this month or another time. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” I answered with deliberate detachment. “You can’t help it, right?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll call you again, okay?”

“Bye.”

I gave a short good-bye and hung up, then hurled my cell phone onto the bed. I let out a sigh at the same time.

Tsukiho had told me she was coming to see me tomorrow, but she’d broken her promise. It was hard that that alone had upset me so much.

My thoughtless reaction perplexed me. It was pathetic to have reacted like that. I was angry with myself.

I shouldn’t really care, but I do.

I don’t even actually want to see her; I don’t want her to come visit.

And yet…

…Argh, I wish she would just give it up already. Stop contacting me whenever she feels like it and leave me alone completely. That would be better.

It’s stupid to get all worked up over this—

It was about two in the afternoon when I finally managed to break out of my slump and leave bed. I hadn’t dozed off or anything, but my eyes were bleary, and my mind was hazy. In fact, my whole body felt sort of sluggish. I decided the first thing to do was wash my face again and started to head for the sink.

That was when Mei Misaki showed up.

Her call caught me off guard. I heard her voice on the other end—

“I’m in front of your building; what number is your apartment?”

9

“I was in the area, so I thought I might try and stop by.”

A brown checkered skirt and a white blouse with a dark-red, thin necktie. When I opened the door, Mei was there, dressed in her First Yomi uniform. She wasn’t wearing the eye patch today, so the blue “doll’s eye” wasn’t in her left socket.

“Did I bother you by showing up out of the blue?” Mei asked.

“No, not at all.”

“Were you in the middle of an afternoon nap?”

“No…”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure…please do.”

Does the uniform mean she’s on the way home from school? But the high schools, at least the public ones, should be off on the second Saturday, just like the middle schools. I was a little curious about it, but I figured she had her reasons. It wasn’t a big enough deal that I was going to make a point of asking about it.

More importantly—I glanced quickly around my apartment.

I certainly hadn’t expected her to visit today, so even though I didn’t have that many things, they were scattered all over. I would have cleaned the place if I’d known she was coming, or at least tidied up better.

But Mei didn’t seem to mind. She proceeded into the living area and took a seat on one of the chairs at the table without waiting for me to offer.

“Hmm,” she remarked. “It feels more lived-in than I expected.”

“I-is that so? Um, uh…”

“I mean, Lakeshore Manor didn’t have that feel to it at all.”

“B-but…”

“A relief?”

“Mm.” She nodded slightly. “Knowing how you were three years ago, I always worry about you a little bit.”

There was nothing I could say in response to that. I pulled two of the few remaining cans of apple juice out of the refrigerator and set them on the table.

“Um, have a drink if you like.”

“Thank you.”

Mei took a can, opened it with the pull tab, and gulped down the juice. I tried to drink mine the same way, but even now, I was still feeling horribly nervous, so I could hardly taste it when I put it up to my mouth.

“You know how there’s a café called Inoya nearby here?” Mei asked as I sat facing her from across the table.

“Uh, yeah.”

“I was just drinking tea over there a little while ago.”

“Oh? Do you go often?”

“I know the owner…but it’s been a while since I went.”

“Huh.”

“And while I was there, she happened to come in—Miss Akazawa. The cousin you introduced me to last week. She came in to buy coffee beans.”

Wow, that’s a real chance encounter. They met while I was shut up in here, wallowing over something trivial.

“She told me where this apartment building was. That’s how I found you…see?”

I felt sort of embarrassed or like I wanted to redo this whole day. Letting out a short sigh, I took a little sip of juice.

“Sounds like you’ve made it through the week all right,” Mei said.

“Izumi told you that?”

“Mm.” She nodded. “But she can’t let her guard down yet.”

“Is that what she told you?”

“It isn’t over, is it?” I murmured. “Why would it be?”

At the very least, there were twenty-two days remaining in this month, today included. If we made it through “accident”-free, it would be proof that the current “countermeasures” were working as intended.

I put an elbow up on the table, rubbing my bleary eyes with the back of my hand. Due to Mei’s sudden visit, I hadn’t had time to wash my face again.

She gave me a once-over and asked, “You were in the middle of a nap, weren’t you?”

“No, I definitely wasn’t.”

“You’ve got bedhead.”

“Huh? …Ah.”

As I rushed to smooth down my hair, Mei smiled, then stared directly at me and asked, “Anyway, somehow you don’t seem to have much energy today. Did something happen?”

I was about to answer that it was nothing, but I couldn’t get the words out right away… Before I could say anything, Mei added, “Like, maybe you’re missing your family in Hinami or something?”

“No way.” The response rushed out of my mouth, almost reflexively. “Not at all, nothing like that.”

“Hmm?”

With both palms resting on her forehead, Mei stared at my face with her eyes upturned slightly. After two or three seconds of silence…she mumbled, “All right.”

It felt as though she had seen right through me and read my inner thoughts.

“Even after everything that’s happened, the woman in Hinami is still your real mother, right?”

“That’s not really…”

I frowned, shaking my head side to side, and Mei didn’t seem inclined to touch on the subject any further. She got up from her chair and looked around the apartment.

“Over there… It’s in the bedroom,” I answered, rising from my chair as well. “I’ll get it.”

10

She was one of Kirika’s girl dolls. Uncle Teruya had fallen for her and purchased her after he saw her at a doll exhibition in Soabi. After being expelled from the Hiratsuka household, I’d brought her with me from the study in Lakeshore Manor.

The figure had been sitting on top of a chest in my bedroom, so I moved her to the living room table, where I positioned her next to my PC, head turned toward Mei. She examined it with a bit of fondness in her eyes and mumbled, “This one’s not so bad.” I thought I saw a faint shadow flit across her face.

“Are there some you dislike?” I asked. “Even though your mom made them?”

“Dislike isn’t the word I would use…” Mei blinked, hesitating slightly. “The thing about dolls is that they’re ‘empty.’ They suck in all the thoughts of their creator and anybody who views them, but they’re still vacant. So…”

So…?

“To me, Kirika’s dolls are a little difficult… No, that’s not it; they’re, like, a little special. The long and short of it is that I don’t particularly care for a lot of them.”

This was the first time I’d ever heard Mei talk about Kirika’s creations like this. As I fumbled around for my next statement—

“How does it seem to you, Sou?” Mei asked me. “My relationship with her—with my mother, I mean?”

“Ummm, well, that’s…”

When I floundered for an answer, Mei nodded to herself. “Mm. This isn’t something that I’ve talked to you about much, is it?”

She stretched her right hand out toward the doll on the table, softly stroking its forehead with the tip of her middle finger. Suddenly, she looked up and stared me in the face as she asked, “Shall I tell you the story of my life? Will you listen?”

11

“I had a sister who was born the same time as I was—a twin. We were fraternal, but we looked a lot alike…” Mei Misaki quietly started telling me her story.

She was right that I hadn’t heard much about her birth and upbringing or about her family and relatives. Of course, that didn’t mean I wasn’t interested. She just never seemed to want to talk about it, so I hadn’t felt like pushing the issue… That’s why I was really taken by surprise when she said the word twin out of the blue.

“But she died before me, in April three years back. Of illness.”

“…I didn’t know.”

“That’s because the only person outside the family who knows is Sakakibara.”

“Sakakibara… Uh, um, wait just a second!” I realized the significance of the timing of April three years back and gasped. “You can’t possibly mean… Did that happen because of the ‘calamity’ in ’98?”

Mei looked like she was hesitating to answer for a moment, then nodded. “It did. I think it probably was because of that.”

“But if I remember, in 1998…”

“The ‘calamity’ started in May, is what everyone remembers, right? There’s nothing written in Mr. Chibiki’s file about the girl who died in April.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Why did you do that?”

“Mm…my reason for that is…complicated.”

It seemed like Mei was being terribly inarticulate. She saw me with my head tilted slightly to the side, and she tilted her own head in the same way. Then, confusion all over her face, she said, “Ah, sorry. I can’t explain this very well. Whenever I try, the words get all mixed up somehow.”

“Huh.”

I nodded slowly, and Mei continued. “Anyway…” But for some reason, she hesitated to tell the next part of the story.

“So…” Another false start, and she failed to get going again.

Finally, after a minute, she opened her mouth. “Mitsuyo Fujioka.”

It was a name I was hearing for the first time. I tilted my head slightly. After showing me the characters that spelled Mitsuyo, Mei at last picked up. “Mitsuyo Fujioka. That person is the woman who gave birth to us, our mother.”

I was taken aback yet another time. Without thinking, I asked, “It wasn’t Kirika?”

Kirika’s real name wasn’t Mitsuyo; it was Yukiyo. And her last name obviously wasn’t Fujioka; it was Misaki.

“Kirika—so, Yukiyo and Mitsuyo were also fraternal twin sisters. Mitsuyo got married first, to a young office worker named Fujioka. A little while later, Yukiyo married my father—Kotaro Misaki.”

“So…”

“We— The two of us were originally twins born to Mitsuyo, who married into the Fujioka family. In other words…”

“You were adopted?”

Mei was adopted out to the Misaki family—is that what she’s saying?

“Right. Our family gave one of us to the Misakis. It happened when I was young, before I was really aware of what was going on, and they always kept it a secret from us. I was raised thinking of Mitsuyo as Auntie Fujioka and of my little sister as my cousin… I found out the truth in fifth grade of elementary school.”

“Grandma Amane let the truth slip carelessly, which shook me to my core. I wondered why they hadn’t told us all that time. My Misaki parents always doted on me and treated me like their own daughter, but still, you know…I had some mixed feelings, to say the least…”

She told me the next part of the story.

Kirika (Yukiyo) had gotten pregnant about a year after Mitsuyo had given birth. Unfortunately, however, it had ended in a stillbirth, and Yukiyo could not bear children after that. Her sorrow and grief had been unbearable.

A plan was hatched to save her from her grief by allowing her to adopt one of the Fujioka twins. Consequently, it had been implemented…

“…So that’s the story. Before I was old enough to understand what was going on, I had gone from Mei Fujioka to Mei Misaki. I still remember very clearly how flustered Kirika was when she figured out that I knew the truth.”

Mei sighed briefly and looked at me for my reaction. I wasn’t able to respond at all, except to shake my head in an ambiguous way.

“Even though Kirika claimed that she was planning to tell me when the time was right, after that, she strictly prohibited me from seeing Mitsuyo, or calling her, or anything. Same went for my sister. Just around that time, the Fujiokas moved to a place farther away in the city. Up until then, my sister had gone to the elementary school in the next district over, but after that, she was farther away… We contacted each other in secret, always without Kirika’s knowledge.”

“Why was she like that?”

When I voiced this naive question, Mei gave another short sigh and answered, “She was anxious.”

“Anxious…?”

“Probably, yeah. Worried that I would no longer be her little doll.”

I was rather shocked by her blunt words. I let out a small noise of surprise. “Eh? Her…doll?”

What does she mean by that? Adopted or not, Mei’s nothing less than Kirika’s daughter. How could she consider her a “doll” despite that…?

“Ah…sure…”

I understand her feelings. At least I think I do. I nodded as an image of Tsukiho’s face flashed across my mind.

“But I’m sure that Kirika was worried that I might have more contact with Mitsuyo because of those feelings. Anxious and probably afraid, too.”

“How so?”

“Afraid that I might want to return to the Fujioka family. Afraid that Mitsuyo might start wanting to take ‘her child’ back.”

“…………”

“I mean, that was nothing more than an unfounded worry of hers. I never really thought that hard about it, and I’m sure the same went for Mitsuyo and Mr. Fujioka…”

Mei continued her story matter-of-factly. Her face was cool and composed, as though she was trying to keep her emotions in check. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I saw a faint shade of sorrow make it through, which saddened me as well.

“But regardless, I think Kirika felt more anxiety than necessary…and because of it, she gave me those strict orders. Forget visiting the Fujiokas—she told me I was absolutely prohibited from having any contact with Mitsuyo or seeing her on my own.”

12

When I asked this, Mei drew her lips in a little bit and looked down. She extended her hand again toward the figure wearing the black dress sitting on the table and stroked its cheek with the tip of her finger, exactly as she’d done earlier. As she did, she mumbled, exactly as she had earlier, “I don’t dislike this one. Because she doesn’t look like me.”

“Huh?”

“She doesn’t look like me, right? That’s why.”

When she said that, everything clicked.

I’d seen a lot of Kirika’s creations, either at the “Blue Eyes…” gallery or the Misaki family’s vacation house in Hinami before arriving in Yomiyama. Sure enough, quite a few of them resembled Mei to some degree…

“Do you hate them? The dolls that look like you?”

“Hate… Not exactly, but I don’t like them much.”

“Why not?”

“Because…they aren’t me. I can tell.”

“They’re not you?” I asked, not grasping what she was implying. “What, um, what do you mean?”

“Those dolls, they’re not me; they’re the child who was never born—Kirika’s child. Even as she makes imitations of me, that is what she’s always seeking in the ‘emptiness’ of her creations. As far as she’s concerned, I’m not the ‘real thing’…I’ve always been a ‘substitute,’ a little figurine.”

“But that means…”

I got that far and couldn’t continue. I wasn’t sure how well I had understood Mei’s tale so far, but I could at least say that here was the source of the tension that I could sometimes sense between Mei and Kirika and Mei and Mr. Misaki.

Mei’s third year of middle school—the class trip during the summer of 1998. And what happened that summer after I encountered her at Lakeshore Manor…

“But listen, Sou.” She stared me in the face. “It’s been three years since that day. The circumstances have changed somewhat between then and now. And my feelings and my relationship with Kirika, I sense those have changed in due course, too.”

“Is that…really true?”

“I’m not as much of a ‘substitute’ these days.”

“Really?”

“I don’t want to say that I ‘grew up.’ I think there’s more nuance to it than that.”

“Three years…huh?”

“It’s the same for you, right, Sou?” I could sense what the question was insinuating.

Three years. That’s right—that time passed for me as well as for Mei. And during that time, I’ve… I’m sure there have been some natural changes in me. Perhaps, like Mei, in my relationship with my mother, Tsukiho… Oh, no.

No. I’m wrong about that, I think.

“Also, this eye,” Mei remarked, pointing at her left socket with her right pointer finger. “I think I talked to you about it before, but I was four years old when I lost it. Kirika said that normal prosthetic eyes weren’t cute, so she made a ‘doll’s eye’ for me instead.”

That beautiful azure glass eye. The one that supposedly held a mysterious power…

“Have you noticed I hardly use it anymore?” she asked.

“Uh…yeah,” I answered.

“Do you want to hear why not?”

“Uh, no.” I shook my head left to right, flustered. “Somehow, that seems like the sort of thing I shouldn’t be hearing.”

What she told me three years ago, that summer… Of course I remember. I couldn’t possibly forget it.

I nodded forcefully, and Mei’s smile disappeared.

“That’s why I used to wear an eye patch whenever I went outside. Because I didn’t like what I could see. I didn’t want to see that.”

“…………”

“But I did wonder if I should use a different prosthetic in place of the ‘doll’s eye,’ rather than hide it behind the eye patch. But no matter how much I thought about it, I couldn’t go through with it. I’m sure that was also part of Kirika’s spell.”

“Spell?”

“Or whatever. I’m exaggerating a bit, I think. She went to the trouble of making me that ‘eye,’ so…get it? It was like, if I switched to a different prosthetic, she would get mad, or it would make her sad, or something. I was convinced of that for so long, probably mostly unconsciously…but—”

“But you did switch it to the ‘eye’ you’re wearing now,” I stated, turning my gaze toward Mei’s left eye. It wasn’t blue but black with flecks of brown…

“When I started high school, I saved up my allowance and bought this one on my own. When I wear it, I can’t see ‘things that I shouldn’t see,’ so I don’t need the eye patch.”

“And Kirika?” I asked, slowly and quietly. “Was she angry and sad?”

“She didn’t say anything,” Mei answered, pouting ever so slightly. “Just that this one suited me pretty well, too.”

“Ah…” I couldn’t help but sigh with relief.

Though that probably didn’t mean that Mei’s fears had been groundless. I was sure that Kirika’s feelings had also changed with the passage of time. So…

“I suddenly just started monologuing about myself… I’m sorry. I probably surprised you,” Mei said.

“Oh?”

I don’t know whether it was purposeful or not, but Mei shrugged kind of rudely, then said, “As to the point of telling you that story now…well, you can interpret it however you like.”

“Sure.”

The melancholic mood weighing me down before Mei’s arrival had mysteriously vanished. Though that didn’t necessarily mean listening to her story had touched me so much that I was considering changing how I dealt with Tsukiho.

Mei is Mei, and I’m me. And the circumstances of the Misaki household and the Hiratsuka household are totally different…

Instead, I think I just was glad to hear her talk about herself. Since that summer three years earlier, Mei had always been “special” to me. It was an honor to have her open up to me about things she normally kept to herself.

“I’ll go ahead and add that my Fujioka mother—Mitsuyo—has also gone through some changes in these past three years,” Mei continued. But in contrast to how she’d sounded before, her voice was quite frail and thin this time.

“I don’t really know if it was a consequence of my sister’s death three years ago or not, but last year, she divorced my Fujioka father. My Misaki father was worried about her, so he took it upon himself to help her get remarried…”

“…………”

“……Ah, sorry, Sou. You didn’t need to know that.”

“No, it’s fine, I…”

“Aaah.” Mei stretched, something I rarely saw her do. Still sitting in her chair, she interlaced her fingers and pushed her arms up straight above her head. “I’d rather just not deal with it—family, blood relations, none of that.”

Now that I thought about it, this was the first time I’d heard her say that.

“But children can’t escape. And while they’re stuck, they inevitably become adults, too.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Her tone shifted again. As I was wondering what it could be, she opened up the bag she had set down beside her chair and dug through the inside, then finally—

“Here,” she said, holding something out to me. A white paper bag about the size of a student notebook. “I completely forgot to give you this. It’s a souvenir.”

“A souvenir?”

“You know, from my school trip to Okinawa.”

Out of everything that had happened that day, this was probably the biggest shock of all.

“Th-thank you,” I replied shakily, accepting the bag and peeking into it. “Can I open it?”

“Go ahead.”

Inside was a cell phone strap with a silver mascot charm on it. The character seemed to be designed after a legendary Okinawan beast, and it had a small green stone inlaid in its belly.

“It’s a shisa lion, right?”

“There were a lot that were too cutesy, so I picked one that was the least like that I could find.”

“It’s really cool.”

“It’s supposed to be a charm that wards off evil spirits. Well, it’s the thought that counts, right?”

I laid the shisa charm in my open palm. On closer inspection, it was actually a little cutesy; it certainly wasn’t making a very dependable expression. I thanked her once more and closed my hand around it.

“Hey, Mei?” For some reason, I suddenly got anxious. “Can I ask you something?”

I didn’t particularly have to inquire about it right then and there. But I saw her nod silently, so I asked that question.

“The younger twin who you talked about just now. What was her name?”

The world around us froze, suspended in time.

Both her eyes opened wide, the living right and the false left. She didn’t blink once. She tried to move her lips slightly, then stopped. The upper half of her body was utterly motionless, so still that it seemed as though she wasn’t even breathing.

Like some sort of strange stop-motion performance, the stillness persisted for three or four seconds. For some reason, I was acting the same way as I sat across from her…

Five, six, seven, eight seconds it continued, until finally, at last, “Her…” Mei’s lips moved. “She was…”

I was right in front of her, but it was like I was hearing her from some unfathomable distance. And although my apartment was bright during the day, it seemed as though her words were leaking out from the depths of some deep, dark place. No one else was in the room with us. And yet, it was almost as if someone was threatening her, preventing her from saying the words.

With great difficulty, in a voice that was barely audible, Mei croaked out the girl’s name in a series of disjointed syllables.

“Her name was……Mi…saki……Misaki.”

And then she managed to tell me the characters used to spell it.

The world went black for a moment.

Just for an instant, accompanied by a deep, reverberating thud.

My turn came at the start of the fourth week. The person attending as my guardian was Auntie Sayuri. Ms. Kanbayashi had to treat me as if I “didn’t exist” at school, so the Japanese language teacher, Mr. Wada, served as a substitute. My aunt probably thought it was strange that she wasn’t speaking to my homeroom teacher, but Mr. Wada explained the situation away as a problem with Ms. Kanbayashi’s health, which Sayuri seemed to accept.

I do want to go to high school, after all. To First Yomiyama Prefectural High School (the same as Mei) if possible.

After some hesitation, I expressed this desire to my Akazawa aunt and uncle. As always, they told me that they would support me in whatever I wanted to do. They added that Tsukiho should have no problem with it, either.

And since my teachers could attest that my academic credentials were solid, the discussion went quickly enough.

However—and this time I had to reason with myself—however, that all depends on whether we make it through this year. To be honest, it all depends on whether I can avoid losing my life in the “calamity”—that’s the real question.

2

The renovation work at the Akazawa house was proceeding much more slowly than expected. It was supposed to be finished around the time I started my summer vacation. Grandfather, who was more or less confined to his bed in the back room, was moody as always and very displeased about the construction dragging on. Whenever I stopped by, however, he received me in fairly good spirits.

Kurosuke, the black cat, also hadn’t changed much, and he would alternate among frolicking around, being annoyingly affectionate to the humans, and pretending not to know you when you called.

“It’s up to you, of course, but you can do whichever you please, Sou. I’m sure Izumi would be happiest if you stayed here. Despite how strong-willed she seems, she tends to get lonely…”

Why are my aunts, Sayuri and Mayuko both, treating me so kindly? Up until three years ago, I was just a nephew they scarcely ever interacted with, whose face they barely recognized.

Considering this question made my mind wander to Tsukiho, who I could never manage to have a decent conversation with on the rare occasions that we actually spoke. Then I was the one who felt a lump in my throat. I hated it.

During this period, the Akazawas invited me to the penthouse for dinner on two occasions.

Auntie Sayuri and Uncle Haruhiko joined me on one of them. As for how the conversation went, the topic of my real father, Fuyuhiko, who had died long ago, came up for a while, but I was able to stay composed to a degree that left even me surprised.

“If only such things wouldn’t happen,” Mayuko muttered.

By such things, she meant Fuyuhiko’s death fourteen years earlier—death by suicide after a long period of depression—but even when she said it aloud, I was at a loss for how to respond.

I couldn’t even remember the face of my biological father, much less make sense of any feelings I still had about him. I wouldn’t say that I felt absolutely no sadness or loss. Yet, I also could not deny that my feelings were somewhat…subdued.

That was probably because I’d always thought of my maternal uncle Teruya as my real father figure. And I had said good-bye to him three years ago over the summer. That’s why…

While at the penthouse, I once again peeked into the room belonging to Izumi’s older brother, who was staying long-term in Germany (his name was Souta, and he was twenty-five years old).

With Izumi’s encouragement, I borrowed several of them.

One was Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose, parts one and two. It seemed difficult to understand, but I had always wanted to read it and had somehow failed to ever borrow it from the library. The other was a title I had never seen before and that didn’t seem much like a mystery, a book by Ágota Kristóf—The Notebook.

3

While all this was going on, June entered its final week.

We just need to get through this week without incident—I’m sure that’s what everyone was desperately hoping. Me included, of course. If the week ended with no casualties, we could finally be certain that our new “countermeasures” were working.

June 25, Monday.

Thanks to a break in the rain, the weather had been fine all morning, without a cloud in the sky.

I woke up even earlier than usual and spent the time before school taking a walk alongside the Yomiyama River. While I was there, I happened to encounter a kingfisher hovering above the river’s surface. I reflexively put my fingers together to form my imaginary viewfinder and recalled the last time I had sighted this bird by the same body of water. I had been with Yuika Hazumi, and our conversation had started to head in a direction I didn’t like…

That was just past mid-April, yeah. Already two months ago…no, only two months ago.

Had two months already gone past since then, or had it been only two months? It felt like both were true. Suddenly, I found myself wondering about what Hazumi had been up to lately.

My feelings all out of order, I clicked my imaginary shutter to capture the kingfisher’s hovering, then realized my cell phone was vibrating in my bag.

Without thinking, I asked, “What’s up? Why are you calling so early?”

It was a few minutes past seven a.m. There was still plenty of time before homeroom started at 8:30.

“And from where?” I continued. “Are you at home?”

“No, I’m in the clubroom.”

“Huh?”

If I recall correctly, the school gates are supposed to open every morning at seven. If he’s in the biology club room already, he must have gotten in as soon as possible.

It wasn’t unusual for Shunsuke to stop by the clubroom before school started, but this was ridiculous.

The sports clubs aren’t even doing their morning training yet, geez…

“I figured you’d already left home and were walking along the river right about now.”

We had known each other for a long time, so Shunsuke had a good grasp on my morning routine.

Still, why go to the trouble of contacting me now?

I was soon given the answer to my question.

“Do you think you could come to school now, too, and stop by the clubroom for a bit? I’m thinking about the Culture Festival. I figured it’s about time we discussed the biology club’s display…”

“The Culture Festival’s in the fall, isn’t it?”

“It’s better to start getting ready early.”

“But there’s no reason why we need to have a meeting first thing in the morning like this.”

“Come on—don’t say that. There’s no time like the present, right?”

“…I guess so, but why are you there so early today, Shunsuke?”

“Ah, that’s because—” As he answered, I could hear the rustling sound of him moving around. “For the last few days, Woo has looked kind of strange, like he hasn’t got any energy. I feed him, but he hardly eats, and his reactions are sluggish. I stopped in to check on him yesterday, too.”

“And of course, we just lost the previous Woo early on in the new semester. I was pretty worried, so I came to see how he was doing first thing this morning.”

“Is he sick or something?”

“No. When I fed him earlier, he gobbled it up, so he’s probably fine for now.”

“Thank goodness.”

“But you know, if the worst does come to pass, I’ll put all my heart into making a beautiful transparent specimen out of him…for sure this time.”

Oh no, he’s on about that again.

Just as I was about to voice my objection, Shunsuke let out a short yelp of surprise.

“Wah! Wh-what’d you do that for?!”

I heard static noise for a while, as if he was losing reception. Puzzled, I asked, “What happened?”

“Ah, nothing,” Shunsuke answered evasively. “It’s nothing…”

He got that far before letting out another short shriek. “Wah! Ah…owww!”

“What happened?! What is it?”

He didn’t reply. Instead, it sounded like his cell phone was being tossed onto a desk or something. I strained my ears as best I could, but I couldn’t tell what was happening on the other side. Then finally—

“Ah man, he really got me!” Shunsuke’s voice came back to the phone.

“What happened?”

“Dude, for some reason the trapdoor on one of the plastic cages was open just a bit, and Toby escaped through the crack.”

“What?”

“I just caught him and put him back, but he bit me as hard as he could. It really hurts…”

Despite being a member of the biology club, I wasn’t very good with things like cockroaches and stink bugs and maggots—“creepy-crawlies.” To say nothing of centipedes! Because of that, I’d been opposed to raising Toby in our clubroom. Even if centipedes weren’t technically insects.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Ugh.” Shunsuke made a pained noise but answered, “I’m fine. It hurts, though.”

“You should go to the infirmary.”

“It’s not open yet. I know how to treat this. He’s already bitten me once since we captured him, after all. I’ve got the steroid cream and everything.”

“Are you really okay?”

“Yeah, I’m all right.”

“Well, at any rate, I’m headed to school now. It should take me about twenty minutes from here. Okay?”

“I’m fine… Ah, owww!”

I hung up the phone and put it back in my bag. The shisa lion phone strap I had gotten from Mei caught the morning light and sparkled dully.

4

I arrived at the south gate of the school about ten minutes later. I hadn’t been worried at first, but as I got closer to school, the anxiety in my chest gradually ballooned… At one point, I’d tried to contact Shunsuke, but—

The call hadn’t connected.

I don’t mean that he didn’t pick up. The ringtone never even sounded, and all I got was the standard message saying, “The number you have dialed is not available or may be outside the service area…”

Entering the school grounds, I crossed the side of the field to find people who belonged in sports clubs grouped up in twos and threes, engaged in their morning training. I headed for Building Zero. As I got closer, I picked up my pace, and by the time I could see the old school building I was aiming for, I was practically sprinting.

I wasn’t in a rush to talk about the Culture Festival. No, my hurry was due to my increasing anxiety, an uneasy premonition that I couldn’t suppress…

The shriek Shunsuke had given when the centipede bit him kept ringing in my ears.

Thankfully, I’d never experienced a centipede bite myself, but the noise he’d made had certainly sounded like he had been in great pain. I could only imagine his wounded flesh, filled with venom.

He said he’s all right, but if that’s circulating through his body… No, centipede venom shouldn’t be strong enough to kill someone, and Shunsuke said he knows the treatment for a bite. So I’m sure he won’t do anything rash. I’m sure he won’t but, if by some chance, something was to…

Those were the thoughts racing around in my head.

Nothing’s happened; I’m certain. At least, I want to be.

I want to believe… Ah, I’m begging here—don’t let anything happen to Shunsuke!

By the time I got to the front entrance of Building Zero, I was basically praying.

“Hiratsuka?”

Someone called out to me, and I leaped back in surprise. The voice belonged to none other than the master of the secondary library, dressed in all black despite the season—it was Mr. Chibiki.

“What on earth is going on? Why are you rushing at this ungodly hour?”

Of course, at this time of day, Mr. Chibiki had also just arrived, and I could see that he was carrying his old box-style briefcase in his right hand.

Suppressing my impatience, I ground to a halt and answered him. Several beads of sweat trickled down my neck.

“Shunsuke…Kouda is in there. And I’m worried about him.”

“Worried?” Mr. Chibiki walked over to me quickly. “Did something happen?”

“I got a phone call from his cell earlier, and…”

“Kouda, you mean the club president?”

“Yes. Shunsuke’s in Class 1, but his twin brother, Keisuke, is in Class 3.”

As soon as I said that, Mr. Chibiki frowned sternly. “What? He’s a ‘related individual’?”

“During our phone call, um…a centipede bit him, and he claimed he was all right. But, well…”

I was in such a hurry that I couldn’t explain the situation very well.

Mr. Chibiki urged me on sharply. “Let’s go.”

Together, we both rushed into the annex and finally arrived in front of the door to the clubroom.

Chu-chu, chu…

The first thing I noticed was a high-pitched sound emanating from the other side of the wooden sliding door.

What’s that? The hamsters we’re keeping in there?

The noises were small, but I couldn’t help but feel uneasy when I heard them. The hamsters didn’t usually cry out like this. My fear doubled instantly.

Ahhh, no way! Don’t tell me something really happened in there?

Holding my breath, I pulled the door open resolutely. When I did and saw the scene inside the room—

For a moment, I lost the ability to move. My throat seized up, and all I could choke out was, “Ah, ah, ah…!”

“No!” Mr. Chibiki shouted, tossing his bag aside and darting in. “Hey! Are you all right?”

It took me a moment to follow him into the chaos of the biology club room.

When you entered the room, there were several open steel racks against the wall to your right. One of them had fallen over. It had crashed into the edge of a large desk nearby and come to rest at a sharp angle. All the miscellaneous stuff that had been on the shelves—instruments and containers, bottles, cans, cardboard boxes, books and notebooks, paper filers, and so on—had broken loose or been flung away to scatter across the room.

We’d set many of the tanks and cages that we used for raising creatures on the big desk that the rack had toppled onto; now they’d either been shattered by the items that had fallen off the shelves or had fallen off the desk and onto the floor. A number of the tanks had been filled with water, so the desk and floor were soaked. The fish, frogs, newts, and other creatures that had been kept in them had also spilled out… The fish couldn’t breathe and were flailing about, gasping for air, while the frogs, newts, and other amphibians who had gained their freedom were all trying to escape.

The lids had come off the plastic cages used for raising insects when they had been thrown off the desk, so there were all sorts of bugs and spiders about as well. The tank where the grass lizards and skinks were being raised had broken, and they were already nowhere to be found. The hamster cage was on a separate table some distance away, so its occupants had escaped the danger, but two hamsters inside had been screaming noisily out of either excitement or fear ever since we’d arrived…

…and in the middle of this disastrous scene was Shunsuke Kouda.

I couldn’t tell for sure just what had set this all off, but in any case, Shunsuke was currently slumped over on top of the desk with his face stuck in one of the shattered tanks.

Mr. Chibiki had already rushed over to him. “Hey! Kouda!” He put his hand on Shunsuke’s shoulder. “Kouda… Oh, this is bad!”

“—Shunsuke!”

Finally, I found my voice.

“Ah…Shunsuke…”

He had collapsed into the tank where we’d been keeping Woo, the axolotl. Though destroyed, there was still some water left in it…which had been dyed a sickening crimson…bloodred.

I wondered whether he’d sliced his neck open on the broken glass when he fell on the tank.

“Shunsuke?” I called his name, but there was no answer.

My eyes, which had been darting around in a panic, landed on the bodies of one of the creatures lying on the ground. On a pitiful pink lump of flesh… So this is Woo, huh? He must have been carried out of the tank along with the water before Shunsuke trampled him by accident…

“Kouda!” Mr. Chibiki called out to the boy again, but there was no response. No sound and no movement… Actually, his right arm, which was dangling limply at his side, was twitching ever so slightly.

Mr. Chibiki put his arms around Shunsuke’s torso from behind and tried to pull his top half upright.

“Give me a hand!” he barked at me, and the two of us pulled his body away from the desk to lie him down on the floor nearby. The wound in his neck looked deep. He was stained red with the blood flowing out of it, from his face, to his neck, to the collar of his shirt and down his chest. His glasses were also soiled with blood, and I couldn’t tell whether his eyes were open or not behind them.

“Hand me that towel,” Mr. Chibiki commanded.

“H-here,” I said and handed it to him.

He pressed the towel against Shunsuke’s neck. Before my eyes, a red stain spread out across it. For a second, Shunsuke’s legs shook weakly as he lay stretched out on the floor.

“Hey, hang in there! Hey!”

As he was talking to him, Mr. Chibiki put his ear close to his mouth.

“Shunsuke…”

“Don’t die!”

“He’s still breathing. Call an ambulance,” said Mr. Chibiki. “Dial 1-1-9. Can I trust you with that?”

“Yes!”

Still holding Shunsuke’s hand, I searched for the whereabouts of my bag, which had my cell phone in it. I’d lost hold of it as soon as we’d entered the room.

“Don’t die.” I mumbled the same words again and let go of his hand. As I did, his legs trembled once more…

…Shunsuke.

I dashed toward my bag, nearly falling, and fished out my cell phone.

It can’t be… Shunsuke, are you dying? Are you going to die like this?

The crimson staining his cheeks made me recall the sight of the blood gushing from Tsugunaga’s neck in the rain one month earlier. That day, Shunsuke had happened to witness the accident with me and had called the ambulance himself. And now…

…Are you dying? Is it you this time?

You were talking to me so normally just thirty minutes ago.

I shook the thought out of my head and tightened my grip on the phone. But my fingers were shaking, so I struggled to dial the numbers.

Just then, something caught my eye.

Something small and black was crawling from Shunsuke’s feet toward his belly, where he was laid out on the floor…

Is that a bug? One of the crickets he was keeping as live bait for the reptiles?

On closer inspection, I could see that there were several of them. Their cage had fallen off the desk, and the lid had come open, and now several of the escaped crickets were crawling over his body…

I think that sight was probably what triggered me. In that moment, the seal on a small box in a corner of my mind was broken. When it did, everything that had been stowed away in there came spilling out…

Rotten skin. Rotten flesh. Rotten innards… Countless squirming, swarming insects.

The repulsive horde of vermin streamed out of my memories and into my current reality. From my mouth. From my nose. From my eyes. From my ears. From every pore in my skin. Then they crawled toward Shunsuke’s body in droves, clambered up onto him, and dragged the boy who was on the border between this world and the next definitively down into “death.”

“Ahhh, stop it!” I gasped weakly.

Though I hadn’t accomplished my goal, all the strength left my hands, and I dropped my phone. My whole body began to tremble violently; then I lost my ability to stand and dropped to my knees on the floor. As my breathing became strained, a bout of dizziness assaulted me.

“Hiratsuka?” It was Mr. Chibiki. He had noticed the state I was in. “What is it, Hiratsuka…?”

That’s as far as I remembered clearly.

I’m sorry…Shunsuke…

I fell facedown on the spot, swallowed by hopelessness. As I fell, my consciousness receded from the “present.”

5

I would later find out that Shunsuke Kouda, who had been taken to the hospital by ambulance, was confirmed dead at about nine o’clock that morning. When the paramedics got to him, he was still barely breathing, but his heart and lungs had failed in transit. They tried everything they could to resuscitate him, but in the end, they were fruitless…

A little past noon, I was informed of the truth as I lay in a bed in the infirmary on the first floor of Building A.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized as soon as I knew it was Mr. Chibiki sitting on the stool next to my bed. “It was such a critical moment, and I—”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shook his head slowly from side to side. “Sure, it was a serious situation, and I was surprised when you collapsed all of a sudden, but that’s what shock does to people. No one is blaming you.”

“…………”

“After you passed out, another teacher noticed the commotion and came to help. I got him to look after you while I ended up riding along in the ambulance to the hospital. I spoke to the head physician while I was there…”

Shunsuke’s immediate cause of death was blood loss. Just as I suspected, the wound in his neck had been as serious as it looked.

“But they think that something might have been wrong with Kouda even before the accident. That’s what the doctor’s examination said.”

Another cause? Something wrong?

Without lifting the back of my head off the pillow, I tilted my head quizzically. I was still in a bit of a daze, but one thing suddenly came to mind.

Another cause…? Could it be…?

“Is it possible that…the centipede bite somehow…?”

“That’s right.” Mr. Chibiki frowned grimly. “I told the doctors what you’d said about the centipede. And they confirmed that there was a bite mark on his right hand. They said it was possible that Kouda went into anaphylactic shock.”

“Anaphylactic…”

“It’s when the whole body has a violent allergic reaction. The immune system runs wild in response to foreign matter entering the body and experiences symptoms akin to an infection.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s…”

The first thing that came to my mind when I heard anaphylactic shock was what people said about beestings: that the second is always more dangerous than the first. People normally get away with just some pain and irritation the first time they’re stung, but then they’re sensitized to the bee venom, so the second time might produce a life-threatening allergic reaction. I’d read a short novel a year or two ago in which a killer used this trick to commit murder.

“But wait, can that happen with centipede venom?”

“Apparently, there’s a slim probability it can, yes. They said it’s a one percent chance.”

“I know that Shunsuke was bitten by a centipede once last year. Was he sensitized because of it?”

“It’s possible, yes.” Mr. Chibiki sighed. “Bee venom is famous for causing anaphylactic shock, but it doesn’t necessarily always happen on the second sting. Apparently, there are plenty of instances when someone dies from the accumulated effects of getting stung several times in the past. But with centipede venom, there are unfortunately too few cases, so a lot is still up in the air.”

“Did they find something that made them doubt their findings?”

“They said they couldn’t confirm without a more detailed investigation. But—” Mr. Chibiki got up from his stool. “It’s undeniable that a centipede bit him right before he passed. Furthermore, there was visible swelling that they thought could be traces of hives all over his body. And here’s what I told the doctor: If we put together the clues from the state of the room and the details of the incident we can deduce from that, then…”

“The details of the incident?”

“What happened during the half hour after you spoke to Mr. Kouda on the phone. It’s practically impossible that he simply knocked over the shelf by accident and broke all the tanks, isn’t it?”

“Uh…right,” I answered frailly.

“Where did they find Shunsuke’s phone?”

“In the tank that he crashed into. He must have dropped it when he was fumbling with it. It was soaked and unusable.”

As I was listening to Mr. Chibiki tell me this in a detached yet despondent tone—

The scene from earlier that I really would have preferred not to imagine was playing out in my mind in disturbingly vivid detail.

Images of Shunsuke after I hung up the phone, right after he said, “I’m fine… Ah, owww!” Pressing down on the wound where he’d been bitten by the centipede, starting to pull medication out of his bag. Then the symptoms of anaphylactic shock setting in.

I pictured him noticing the strange itchiness of the hives as they quickly spread across his body, after which his arms and legs starting to go numb. With his blood pressure dropping suddenly until he couldn’t stand, he desperately clung to one of the open racks for support. I saw the rack falling and everything sliding off it, destroying the tanks and other stuff on the desk. Shunsuke had escaped being pinned between the rack and the desk but still couldn’t get to safety. Even when he pulled out his cell phone to call for help, he dropped it in the water and panicked. And then—

Shunsuke unknowingly trampled Woo, who’d fallen onto the floor after pouring out of his broken tank. It was the worst thing that could have happened, for both boy and axolotl. Shunsuke slipped, making him lose his balance, and the momentum sent him plunging headfirst into the broken aquarium tank, where he collapsed…

“…Ohhh,” I groaned, unable to stand the thought. It was getting hard to breathe. I felt like the air in my chest was being pumped out of me.

“Why that, of all things…? Is that something that would normally happen…?”

“It’s apparently a highly improbable, unfortunate chain of events…yes. You’re right,” Mr. Chibiki answered me. He pushed his glasses up on his forehead and pressed on the inner corners of his eyes with his right thumb and forefinger, moving his fingers to massage them.

“But you know,” he continued, steeling himself and speaking as if he were wringing the words out, “something that seemed like it would almost never happen did actually happen. And tragically, he was drawn in to ‘death.’ This is exactly the kind of ‘accident’ that the ‘phenomenon’ would bring about.”

6

It was a decisive comment.

An “accident” produced by the “phenomenon.”

That’s right. That’s what befell Shunsuke this morning—because he was “related” to Grade 3 Class 3…

“Mr. Chibiki.” I lifted my head from the pillow and propped myself up. I was still having difficulty catching my breath. “Shunsuke—Kouda’s really dead, isn’t he? He’s not coming back, right?”

Mr. Chibiki nodded silently.

“And was Keisuke also at the hospital?”

“His younger twin brother? Yeah. He got the call and made a mad dash over to the emergency room. Their parents showed up soon after him.”

“…………”

Mr. Chibiki described how Keisuke had clung to the corpse and broken down crying. “Why you?!” he’d asked. Why Shunsuke, who’d been in a completely separate cohort from the “cursed Class 3”? It must have felt cosmically unjust to him.

“You guys,” Mr. Chibiki said. He wasn’t addressing me. There was a white curtain on the opposite side of the bed to where he was sitting on his stool—to the left from my perspective—drawn around the foot of the bed. I looked up at it.

Is there someone else here?

Just then, it dawned on me.

From the way he called them you guys, he wasn’t speaking to the teachers who staffed the infirmary. It was probably students, several of them…

“It’s all right already. Come on out here.”

In answer to his request, the curtain swayed slightly. I could see someone’s silhouette on the other side of the white fabric. Just as I noticed that, the curtain slid smoothly open.

Two people, with whom I was very well acquainted, entered—Izumi Akazawa and Nobuyuki Yagisawa.

They took a step or two toward the bed but didn’t look me in the face. They didn’t speak to me, either. Their expressions conveyed confusion and dismay as they cast their gazes toward Mr. Chibiki, who was standing at my bedside.

“It’s all right now,” he repeated with a faint sigh. “It’s as you just heard. Kouda’s sudden death this morning was the result of the ‘calamity’—of that there is no doubt. So in other words—” Mr. Chibiki cut off and glanced at Izumi, Yagisawa, then me in turn. “In other words, the ‘calamity’ that began last month is still going on. We haven’t ended it.”

Upon hearing this news, Izumi looked him squarely in the face and asked, “Does that mean there’s no point in keeping up with the current ‘countermeasures’ any longer?”

“Ah…” Izumi bit her lip in vexation. Standing next to her, Yagisawa had a similar reaction.

There was an even longer pause before the two of them at last fixed their gazes on me. In response, I finally opened my mouth and said, “Looks like it didn’t work out, huh?”

I felt just as frustrated as Izumi… I was overwhelmed with an enormous sense of helplessness. These were the first words I’d spoken to either of them in school since we’d begun the initial “countermeasures” back in April.

“It didn’t make any difference, no matter how well I kept ‘not existing.’”

“I guess not,” Yagisawa said in a dejected voice. “We don’t need to do that anymore, huh? This year’s ‘countermeasures’ are through, I guess. So this is what it means to exhaust all your options.”

“…Seems that way.”

Trying to get out of bed, I pushed aside the terry-cloth blanket that had been laid over me. My body felt unsteady again.

“So now that we know the new ‘countermeasures’ had no effect…at this point, it doesn’t seem like there’s much more we can do,” Yagisawa remarked, addressing Mr. Chibiki this time.

The librarian couldn’t really give him an answer. His severe expression remaining unchanged, he sighed deeply, then shook his head slightly.

I heard the sound of the infirmary door opening, and soon a new person appeared at my bedside. It was our homeroom teacher, Ms. Kanbayashi.

She looked at the four of us, three students plus Mr. Chibiki, in a way that told us she had realized herself that the “countermeasures” were now meaningless.

Despite what she was saying, in the moment, all I could hear was her blaming me.

Why on earth did it have to turn out like this?

The unanswerable question looped through my mind again and again, and all I could feel was darkness swallowing my heart.

7

Two days later. Wednesday, June 27.

Shunsuke’s funeral was held at the funeral hall in a neighborhood called Furuchi. At Ms. Kanbayashi’s behest, I was granted a half day’s leave from school so I could attend. I wasn’t a classmate of his, but I was there as a representative for the biology club, which he’d led. We’d known each other for only a little more than two years, but during that time, we had gotten fairly close, so I was there as a friend as well.

In a total contrast to the mild weather two days ago, it had been raining nonstop since morning on the day of the funeral.

Besides me, a number of other students in North Yomi uniforms also attended. They were probably all students from Shunsuke’s class, Grade 3 Class 1. The Class 1 homeroom teacher was also there, and Mr. Kuramochi, the adviser for the biology club, came, too. So did Mr. Chibiki. Avoiding all of them, I sat in the very back corner of the funeral hall. It was like I was still pretending that I “didn’t exist.”

Once the priest started to chant, I intentionally shut my eyes and refused to open them again. When I did, almost as a matter of course, I recalled the last time I’d heard Shunsuke’s voice on the phone. I recalled the disastrous scene in the clubroom…

…That day.

…That day. After it happened.

It was normal in circumstances like these for the police to come and examine the scene. They’d questioned me about what had occurred as a witness to the accident. Mr. Chibiki sat with me during the interview… I just answered everything truthfully, although neither he nor I said a word about anything related to the “phenomenon” or the “accidents.” If we had tried to tell them, the police wouldn’t have been able to do anything. Not to mention the fact that they probably wouldn’t have taken us seriously in the first place.

Ultimately, I didn’t end up going back to class at all that day, opting to head home early… Auntie Sayuri looked awfully surprised when she heard about everything. She already knew about last month’s casualties—Tsugunaga and Takanashi’s mother—so…so I suppose it was only natural that in addition, she felt suspicion, anxiety, and fear along with the shock.

That evening, Izumi came over to my apartment and talked to me about a bunch of stuff, though I didn’t feel like chatting. But all her topics were completely unrelated to the “phenomenon” and the “accidents”… I was sure she was trying to cheer me up. Despite her efforts, I still didn’t feel like saying a word… I was largely dissociated, hardly paying attention.

The following day—a Tuesday—I was in absolutely no mood to go to school, so I spent almost the whole day shut up in my room. The entire time, it felt as though I kept repeating an unanswerable question, Why? while fully aware that there was no explanation to be had.

Why on earth did it turn out like this?

Why? Just why, why, why…?

If only I’d been smarter when everything was going on in April.

My heart was full of regret, guilt over something that I could no longer do anything about.

If only I had done a better job… Couldn’t I have done something to keep Hazumi, the “second non-exister,” from quitting like that? I mean, I didn’t feel the same way about her that she felt about me, and I’m really bad at dealing with that kind of stuff…but maybe I should have just played along anyway, kept her from feeling so isolated, like there was no alternative…

I had these thoughts and many more, even though I knew that all this musing was utterly pointless.

But somehow, I spent the whole day doing nothing. I didn’t feel like doing anything, and I passed the time alone and depressed. Izumi was worried and came over to my apartment to check on me, but I didn’t open the door. I also got a phone call from Yagisawa, but I didn’t pick up… When the night grew late, I finally booted up my PC and managed to send Mei an e-mail informing her of Shunsuke’s death. That was all. I actually would have preferred to talk to her on the phone or go see her, but my heart felt so weak that this was totally out of the question, so I gave up on the idea…

…The funeral chanting came to an end.

The atmosphere in the funeral hall was dark and oppressive, and I could hear sobbing everywhere. Opening my eyes decisively, I squeezed both hands tightly into fists on my knees.

Our club adviser, Mr. Kuramochi, had informed me of the time and place for the funeral via a phone call that came late the night before.

—I thought I’d better let you know so you can attend if you want. I’m planning on going, too.

When I’d heard his message, I finally started to pull myself together a little bit; I felt myself coming back to the “present.”

The undeniable truth was that Shunsuke Kouda was dead. And we had to mourn the dead properly. I needed to be present to mourn Shunsuke and give him a proper good-bye. And so…

My experience three years earlier at Lakeshore Manor, or the memory of it, was whispering to the recesses of my heart.

As I was facing the portrait of the deceased, I choked back the tears that threatened to overcome me. The death of a friend was devastating, but I didn’t want to cry there.

After all, three years ago, when Uncle Teruya passed, I…

Shunsuke’s joke from an earlier moment suddenly rang in my ears.

“If the worst happens to you, I’ll scoop up your remains and put you with the rest of the specimens, okay, Sou?”

It felt as though he were actually speaking in my ear. Without meaning to, I looked at the portrait. Shunsuke smiled back bashfully from a photo in a lovely green frame.

Now that he was gone, the biology club would be all but defunct for a while. As club president, Shunsuke had planned most of the important club activities himself. However—

There was the question of what to do with the creatures we had been rearing in the clubroom, aside from the ones that had escaped, died, or gone missing during the incident two days earlier. That was a big problem.

What should I do?

Of course, there was no way I was getting an answer to this question.

Good-bye, Shunsuke.

Closing my eyes softly, I bid farewell to the eccentric head of the biology club.

8

I watched the row of black cars leave the funeral hall, headed for the crematory.

When I powered up my cell phone again, I found two voice mail notifications.

The first one was from Tsukiho.

Ugh…of all the times to call, it had to be today.

She probably doesn’t even know about Tsugunaga’s death last month or Shunsuke’s passing two days ago. Actually, it’s possible that she heard about them from Auntie Sayuri, but even if she did, she probably doesn’t care that much.

—Mirei’s totally recovered already, so I thought we could come have lunch or dinner with you soon. Maybe next Sunday… It’s already July, but I’m planning to come see you with your sister. I’ll call you again with the details, okay?

Without meaning to, I let out a sigh.

At this point, what feelings does she actually hold for me? What’s she thinking? What does she want? ’Cause I sure don’t know. No, honestly, it’s less that I don’t know and more that I don’t care.

The second message was from Mei Misaki. She’d left it a little before eleven in the morning.

She called me from school, during a class break?

—The head of the biology club, Mr. Kouda… Sou, you two were close, weren’t you?

It was a small reassurance to hear her speaking to me the same way as ever…

—I’m sure it’s a big shock and very painful, but hang in there.

…Ah, thank you. Thank you, Misaki… Thanks, Mei.

“Thank you,” I said aloud without realizing, my voice cracking with emotion.

—It looks like all your “countermeasures” have failed in the end, but…you can’t blame yourself, Sou. It’s no use. Okay? No matter how much you torment yourself, nothing will come of it.

—E-mail is fine, but call me anytime if you need to. You can come for a visit, too, or I could go see you again. Listen, Sou, even if the “countermeasures” have failed, there’s still…

At that point, some awful static cut in, and the message broke off.

9

I was planning to attend classes in the afternoon, so once I’d listened to my messages, I left the funeral hall and headed for the school. I got off the bus from Furuchi and walked a short distance, but just as the North Yomi school gates came into view—

My phone rang.

I checked the display and saw it was coming from Mr. Chibiki, who I had just seen in front of the funeral hall. We had exchanged silent bows before parting.

“Where are you right now?” he asked the second I picked up.

“At…school? I’m just about to get there.”

“I see.”

I noticed that something was odd about the tone of his voice. It was slightly shrill, somewhat shaky…

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Well…” Mr. Chibiki hesitated briefly but immediately checked himself and continued. “As a matter of fact, I just got an urgent call from Mr. Oohata, the teacher for Class 1. It’s hard to believe his account, but it seems to be true. One of the cars that just headed for the crematory was involved in an accident on the way, on one of the mountain roads…”

The car had broken through the guardrail on the mountain road, fallen several dozen meters down a cliff, and gone up in flames. There had been four people in the car: the driver and three passengers—Shunsuke’s parents and twin brother, Keisuke. Of all the people it could have been, it was those three…

Several hours later, the blaze was finally extinguished, and the four occupants of the vehicle were all deceased. A subsequent investigation determined that the driver and Keisuke Kouda, who had been sitting in the front passenger seat, had died almost instantly on impact, from concussive force to the head and body. Tokuo and Satoko Kouda, who had been riding in the back, had burned to death in the fire after the fall.

Hmm? Sounds like you’d better not get too close if you can help it.

My thoughts exactly.

…Unfortunately, none of the many “countermeasures” we’ve attempted have been successful. This is terribly unfortunate, but…the “calamity” is here, so now all we can do is pray for the souls of the departed: Tsugunaga, Kouda and his family, and Takanashi’s mother.

Everyone here has upheld the “countermeasures” since the beginning of April… I especially want to thank the countermeasures officers and Sou Hiratsuka, who took the initiative to become a “non-exister,” for their efforts. From now on, Hiratsuka will be leading a normal school life with the rest of us…

…………

…………

……Ms.?

What is it?

So does this mean…does this really mean that there’s nothing we can do?

What do you mean?

Are there any more, you know, “countermeasures”…?

…There are none. At least, not as far as I know.

…………

…………

The “calamity” has already begun. Our “non-exister” gambit failed to prevent it. I’m afraid there is nothing more that we can do…

…No way.

No way…

…………

…………

…I’m so sorry.

I apologize, everyone. Even I don’t know another way.

But why did it stop? No one can say for sure. We don’t really know; no one does. So…

…………

……But—

But, everyone—

Don’t give up… Don’t give in, everyone; don’t get careless, all right? Be vigilant about your surroundings. Take care when you’re on your way to and from school. Whenever you leave home, avoid getting caught in any sudden accidents. Maintaining your health is part of that. Remain vigilant at all times, and do your best to avoid opportunities for the “calamity” to strike…

……I will, too.

As your homeroom teacher, I also have to be careful. No amount of caution is too great. Keep that in your mind, everyone, and please…

……Be careful.

Hazumi was aware of the incidents from the month before. But she hadn’t known about what had happened to Shunsuke and Keisuke.

That’s the answer I got back. But the way she replied, it sounded just like she was dodging the question, as if it was somebody else’s problem.

“So you see”—despite how uncomfortable I felt with her responses, I put some force into my voice—“in short, the ‘calamity’ has finally begun. The ‘countermeasures’ we used in April weren’t successful.”

“Because of me?” Hazumi asked. Just like me, she put more force behind her voice. “Because I couldn’t bear to continue ‘not existing,’ is that it? It’s all my fault, is what you’re saying?”

“Uh, no. That’s not what I was trying to say.” I was at a loss for words. I certainly hadn’t called to scold her or place blame.

“That day, I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I ran away from the classroom, but…but after that, I didn’t go to school at all. So it’s like I became the perfect ‘non-exister,’ right? And you kept on ‘not existing’ after that, too, didn’t you, Sou? And yet…”

Though sad- and anxious-sounding, Hazumi also seemed detached from what she was saying. I knew that even if I tried to explain the situation or went over what had happened after she left, she wouldn’t be receptive to me at the moment.

“Um, uh…so on a different topic…” I took a breath, then said, “Be careful—that’s what I wanted to say to you, Hazumi. That’s all.”

“…………”

“After all, it doesn’t matter if you’re never at school; you’re still a member of Grade 3 Class 3. And the ‘accidents’ can affect ‘related individuals’ as well.”

I was calling because I wanted to encourage her to be cautious. It was something I thought I needed to do. When it came to the particulars of her renouncing her ‘nonexistence’ and running away, I certainly couldn’t deny my own responsibility, however slight.

“Huh? In what…?”

“In that sort of stuff, like, in curses or divine punishment, unscientific stuff like that.”

“What? But people have really died…”

“All of those were coincidences,” she countered bluntly. “People are always going to die of something, right? Risk is a part of all our lives. So you see, once in a while, unlucky coincidences pile up, and lots of people die. The world is made up of coincidences like that, and they certainly don’t happen because of a curse or divine punishment. That was true for Nakagawa—for Big Brother Nakagawa…”

Nakagawa?

She must mean Takayuki Nakagawa, the high school student at First Yomi who was killed in a motorcycle crash at the end of April. Maybe she heard that from his older brother? She told me he was a good friend of his.

“Ah…you said you were close with him, right? With, um, Nakagawa’s older brother.”

I remembered hearing that from someone who saw them together firsthand. When I said that, Hazumi didn’t seem embarrassed. On the contrary, she answered somewhat boastfully, “Mm, that’s right. Nakagawa’s brother is incredibly intelligent, you know. He’s majoring in physics at university. My big brother said so, too. He told me, ‘He’s really capable; he’s a great guy.’”

So Einstein here has completely dismissed the “phenomenon” and “accidents” at North Yomi as “unscientific.” And Hazumi’s taking her lessons from him… Is that what’s going on?

…Even though he knows nothing.

In my mind, I conjured up a silhouette to stand in the place of this older Nakagawa brother I’d never met and found myself with bitter words for him.

You don’t know anything. Not one thing about our present reality!

“What Nakagawa said was correct.” Hazumi’s assertion was even more forceful. “If you really think about it, it’s too strange, too bizarre. Who would believe that a ‘casualty’ joins the class and causes people to die?”

“That’s exactly why—”

“And about those ‘countermeasures’ and the ‘non-existers.’ Well, Nakagawa says that’s a form of bullying, and he got very angry about it. If the curse was real, the school and the board of education wouldn’t just let it be, he told me.”

“Th…” No more words would come out.

It’s pointless, no matter what I say!

That was my impression. I pulled my ear away from the phone for a second to sigh quietly so that she wouldn’t hear me.

She ran out of the classroom and into the arms of the older Nakagawa… She did that, and now she’s completely inside his field of influence; that’s what I’m hearing. I wonder how deeply infatuated she is? How much are her feelings clouding her judgment? I have no way to tell.

“At any rate…well, be careful,” I said finally. “And if at all possible, you ought to get out of Yomiyama…”

She didn’t say a word in response. Before I could hang up, she did it herself.

That was what happened the evening of Thursday, June 28.

2

The atmosphere in the classroom the next day was awful. Utterly depressing.

Now that we’d ceased using “non-existers” as our “countermeasure,” there was no need for the old desks and chairs that we’d brought over from the old classroom in Building Zero. The desk and chair I’d been using since April had already been cleared away that morning, replaced by a new set.

The teachers in charge of each subject class had also been notified of the end of the “countermeasures.” During Japanese language class, I was called upon to read from the textbook for the first time this school year. We also did the usual “stand, bow, sit” at the start of classes and had a roll call to check attendance. It had become a standard classroom environment, free from “non-existers,” just like I had experienced in previous school years.

But even as things seemed to go back to normal, an awful weight was bearing down on us.

The weight of the “calamity.”

If you included Joukichi Kanbayashi’s death from illness, a total of seven “related individuals” had lost their lives in May and June. Despite that, there was no way to avert it, so we weren’t doing anything. We couldn’t do anything. A sense of failure and helplessness. Anxiety and irritation. And fear and uneasiness that we couldn’t shake no matter what.

During the breaks between classes, a succession of peers I hadn’t spoken to even once since April (like Tajimi’s childhood friend Aonuma, and Nakamura from the soccer club, and Tsugunaga’s best friend Fukuchi from the girls, and so on…) came up and practically forced themselves to interact with me. It was all bland small talk, and answering them one by one somehow put me in a melancholy mood… It even seemed like things had been easier for me back when I “didn’t exist.”

During homeroom, Ms. Kanbayashi told us that the Kouda family was planning to hold a funeral the day after tomorrow but that it would be private, for relatives only.

3

“Want to come over for some coffee?”

I got the call from Izumi not long after I hung up the phone with Hazumi. I was grappling with how to answer the sudden invitation when she cleverly added, “Mama baked an apple pie, so I thought you might like to enjoy it with me. Let’s see, give me about ten minutes? Then come over.”

About ten minutes later, I arrived at her apartment, <E-1>.

“Ever since Kouda passed, you’ve been down, so it’s been hard to approach you. I totally get it, since you were friends since first-year biology club, and I know I need to leave you alone to deal with it…but there was that accident on the day of his funeral, right?”

The fragrance of the Inoya-blend coffee that she had treated me to once before was hanging in the air of the apartment. As she poured coffee into cups from the pot, Izumi continued. “It’s really horrible, isn’t it? I mean, the whole family?”

She kept going, sounding sad and a little angry. “Even if the ‘calamity’ is some kind of ‘supernatural natural phenomenon,’ even if it doesn’t have a will or intent, that’s not how it seems to me anymore.”

“You sense some kind of malice?”

“I don’t know what it is, but there’s something. How about you, Sou?” she asked.

I shook my head side to side without saying anything. It wasn’t a question of whether I felt or didn’t feel something. I didn’t even want to acknowledge that there could be some kind of ill will at work. So I rejected the whole line of questioning outright.

“…Seems like the elevator is acting up a little.”

I could hear the entryway conversation between mother and daughter from the living room.

“I just called it from upstairs, but it didn’t come. I went down the stairs, but my attention was focused on the pie tray, and I was afraid I might lose my footing… I’ve got goose bumps!”

“Geez! Be careful, Mama,” insisted Izumi. Her voice cracked with tension and wariness. “You should never rush on the stairs. If the elevator’s acting up, hurry and call a contractor.”

“Yes, yes.” After replying to her daughter, Mayuko turned toward me, standing in the living room. “Welcome, Sou.”

“Thanks for having me. And, um, I’m looking forward to the pie.”

“It came out very nicely, if I do say so myself. Make sure and eat plenty.”

“Thank you.”

“It sounds like there have been all sorts of difficulties at school, but try not to get too depressed, okay?”

“Uh…sure.”

“See you later.” She turned back to Izumi. “You’ve got one more friend coming, right? Don’t keep them too late.”

“I know. Thanks, Mama.”

“Good night.”

As soon as Mayuko had left the apartment, I turned to Izumi and asked, “Who’s the other friend?”

“Huh? Didn’t I tell you?”

“I didn’t hear anything about it… Yagisawa?”

“Bingo,” she answered readily, then smiled cheerfully. “But getting back on track, you’ve been wearing a brooding, scary face all day long, Sou. I’m worried, and so is Yagisawa. I got a call from him saying he wanted to come talk to you, so that’s why.”

“In that case, he should have gotten in touch with me directly.”

“…………”

“I completely understand how you feel. After all, I ended up being a total failure of a countermeasures officer… But look, there’s certainly nothing good about staying down in the dumps. Here’s your coffee. Let’s have pie after Yagisawa gets here.”

I wrapped both hands around the cup that Izumi had poured for me and took a sip. It was delicious, but as I drank it this time around, the faint bitterness passing over my tongue seemed to soak down all the way into my heart.

“Um…about your conversation with Auntie Mayuko just now…,” I started, checking Izumi’s expression, “nearly losing her footing on the stairs…that could have been an opportunity for the ‘calamity’ to strike, huh?”

That’s why she’d cautioned her mother so intensely earlier.

“Apparently, there was an ‘accident’ involving an elevator in the past, so…,” she answered, nodding meekly. “In fact, it happened three years ago, when your friend Misaki was in Grade 3 Class 3.”

Mr. Chibiki had also told me about the elevator accident that had claimed the life of a “related individual” during the 1998 school year. In fact, it was supposed to have happened at Yumigaoka Municipal Hospital…

“So we have to keep our guard up. The ‘calamity’ doesn’t affect just the Class 3 students; it can also befall our families.”

Izumi was pensive as she reconfirmed this fact. I nodded wordlessly, my eyes still fixed on her face.

Now that the “countermeasures” of April had ended in utter failure, we were completely powerless. We had no choice but to pass the days in anxious terror of the unpredictable “calamity” that could strike anyone at any time…

“Come on in.” She left the table and held open the door to the other room in invitation. “For some reason, I’ve got the urge to play piano. Will you join me?”

4

The western-style room was about seventeen meters square, and in the center stood an elegant grand piano. But the lid was closed, with all sorts of things—magazines, notebooks, memo pads, pen cases, and so on—scattered about carelessly on top of it. It was obvious that Izumi didn’t ordinarily play much.

“It’s been a while, so I’m probably out of practice.”

With that preface, she sat down at the bench and gently opened the keyboard cover. Gingerly, she spread out the fingers on both hands and lowered them onto the keys. Then she began to play a beautiful, haunting melody.

“Do you know this song?” Izumi asked me as she was playing.

“I do remember hearing it before. Um…”

“It’s a very famous tune. Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata,’ first movement.”

“‘Moonlight’…”

“I’m not in the mood for Chopin’s ‘Funeral March,’ okay?”

I figured that the people who’d died were on her mind.

“Anyway, in a book that I read in my second year of middle school, there’s a scene where they play this song to send off the deceased. It left quite an impression on me, so…”

She continued the performance.

As I watched and listened to her play, I let my eyes drift closed. Carelessly, I backed up against the window curtain. A foul odor suddenly filled the air, and my nose started itching…

Huh? Is that the smell of dust?

…Thud.

There came a low reverberation. Below my range of hearing.

This is—

What is this?

The question bubbled up in my mind, but a moment later, it completely vanished… I heard the sound of the keyboard cover close nearby. I saw Izumi, wearing a somewhat dejected expression after ending her performance partway through.

“What’s up?” I asked. “Why did you stop?”

“You didn’t notice?” Izumi asked me back. “One of the keys wasn’t playing the right note.”

“Really?”

“It’s way out of tune. It’s because I almost never play anymore…but I can’t just play it like this, can I? Poor piano. I’ll have to ask Mama about it.”

Izumi let out a huge sigh and stood up, then returned to the living room. Just as I was about to follow her, a piece of the clutter sitting atop the instrument caught my eye.

“Hey, hang on,” I called out to stop her. “This is—” I held it up to show her. “When was this photo taken?”

Izumi turned around and glanced at the picture I was showing her, then mumbled an answer, as if it was nothing. “Ah, we took that on the day of the entrance ceremony. In the classroom.”

The school entrance ceremony—April 10. The day after the opening ceremony. By then, we’d already started the “countermeasures.” Hazumi and I had taken on our roles as “non-existers,” so we hadn’t gone to school…

“During homeroom that day, Ms. Kanbayashi said we should take a commemorative photo as a unit. Apparently, she always takes these kinds of group photos of her new class at the start of every school year.”

As she explained, Izumi folded her arms sternly.

A group photo of Grade 3 Class 3 taken in the classroom. Certainly, that’s what this was. Hazumi and I, who’d skipped that day, weren’t in it. And neither was Makise, of course, who was already in the hospital by then. And since Ms. Kanbayashi wasn’t in the picture, she must have taken it herself.

“We’re supposed to make a graduation album, so we’ll have to take another sometime. You can be in there with everyone when we do, Sou.”

Izumi got that far before her expression stiffened abruptly. After that, she didn’t say anything else. With a long sigh, she lowered her gaze to her feet and bit her lip. Brushing her bangs back with both hands, she pressed one of her palms against her forehead.

She was obviously dealing with many conflicting emotions, even if she didn’t seem cognizant of herself.

Of course, I realized, I’m not the only one suffering. I’m not the only one who feels trapped, who doesn’t know what to do…

5

Yagisawa arrived just as we were returning to the living room from the piano room.

Apparently, he’d biked over in the light drizzle that had been constantly falling since the night before. He removed his flashy orange raincoat in the entryway and came into the living room, blotting himself here and there with a towel that Izumi had handed him. When he saw me, he raised a hand. “Yo! You look a little better, huh?”

I showed him my best scowl.

“Uh…yeah, sure.”

Even in this situation, Yagisawa maintained his characteristically optimistic demeanor.

“Man, I hate when it rains half-assed like this. I’d rather just resign myself to a downpour.”

“How so?”

“Like, tearfully turn down an invitation for coffee and apple pie.” He shrugged jokingly. “And it’s already getting late. If I didn’t come on my bike, there would be no bus to get me home.”

“Be careful on your way back. Of accidents and stuff…,” I warned him instinctively.

Yagisawa’s smile disappeared immediately. “I know that,” he answered. “That’s why I’m wearing the flashiest-color raincoat I could find. I’ve got an extra light on my bike, too…”

Izumi prepared his coffee, and the three of us ate Mayuko’s handmade apple pie. As we were eating, Yagisawa’s eyes came to rest on the class photo I had brought out from the piano room and set on the corner of the table.

“Ah, that picture?” he mumbled. “We took that back in April, huh?”

“Anyone need more coffee?” Izumi interjected.

“Yeah, I’ll have some,” Yagisawa replied.

“Sou?”

“All right, me too.”

“We should take one with you, too, Sou,” Yagisawa suggested out of the blue, completely serious.

“Huh?” I looked back at him.

“A commemorative photo, I mean. Right? You’re good at photography, aren’t you?”

“Mm, kinda.” I nodded.

Film and film development cost a lot of money, so I rarely had the chance to actually capture things with a camera. Typically, I just formed an imaginary viewfinder with my fingers and clicked away.

“Well, let’s do it one of these days, then,” he insisted.

“Mm…ah, no, not like this.” As he spoke, Yagisawa looked slightly confused. He shook his head gently right to left, then nodded to himself. “It doesn’t have to have everyone in it. For example, we could take one with the three of us—you, Akazawa, and me. As a memento of this ‘calamity’ year or something.”

He got that far; then he broke into a guileless smile. “Of course we’re all going to live through this, so we’ll have it to look at later when we get together to reminisce…right?”

“Set in your optimism to the very end, I see,” I muttered.

“If I wasn’t, I don’t think I could go on.”

“Well…”

“Hey, you guys, here.” Izumi came back from the kitchen, holding something out to us.

“What is it?” Yagisawa first cocked his head a little and took it from her, then let out an excited, “Oh!”

I took mine next and gasped, “Ah!”

“My treat, okay?” Izumi said with a brilliant smile. “Let’s go see it together over summer break, okay?”

They were advance tickets to Jurassic Park III, premiering at the start of August.

Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure we talked about this the last time the three of us were here together.

Just then, my cell phone began to vibrate in my jacket pocket. I took it out, examined the display, and let out a sigh too faint for the others to hear. Without answering it, I silently returned the phone to my pocket.

“Is it okay for you not to take that?” Yagisawa asked.

“Ah, yeah.”

“By any chance was that her—was it from Misaki?” Izumi asked.

I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t.”

The phone call had been from Tsukiho. I knew what she wanted to say without answering. She was going to tell me about how she was coming here and bringing Mirei on Sunday.

“Hey, Sou?” Izumi said. Her smile from earlier was long gone. Staring at me with a straight face, she asked, “Um, so, about what Ms. Kanbayashi said today at school…that there have been years when the ‘calamity’ started but it stopped halfway through?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“That happened three years ago, right?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “That was an instance when it happened.”

“I know it’s true that they stopped the ‘calamity,’ but I don’t understand how they did it,” Izumi said. “I asked Etou about it, too, to be sure. And her cousin, who was in Grade 3 Class 3 three years ago, also said that she didn’t know the ‘how,’ that it wasn’t clear. But…” Still staring at me, she continued. “I wonder if maybe Misaki would have an inkling.”

She narrowed her almond-shaped eyes abruptly. “If it was just that she was in Class 3 three years ago, her recollection would probably be the same as Etou’s cousin, but I don’t know, there’s something about her, like she’s privy to things other people aren’t…”

“Misaki—is that the North Yomi graduate who Sou’s friends with?” Yagisawa asked. “When was it? You told me a little bit about her, right?”

“Mm, yeah.” Nodding at Yagisawa and Izumi, I answered, “I’m on the same page as you two; I’m certain that something can be done… That’s why I’ve asked her about it several times already. But Misaki always gives me these ambiguous responses. It seems like it’s hard for her to answer my questions. Or maybe that she doesn’t want to be straightforward. That’s how it seems to me.”

“Oh, really?” Izumi cocked her head.

Picturing Mei’s face in my mind, I said, “I’m almost certain that there’s some sort of complicated reason for it. It’s like she’s somehow unable to answer with more than a few words…”

I knew as much, even without Izumi telling me. I’d thought the same thing myself.

But after seeing Shunsuke on Monday… How do I put this? My mind had completely frozen up, and I’d lost my ability to look forward… That’s why I hadn’t been able to contact Mei yet.

I thought back to the phone call I’d received from her on the day of Shunsuke’s funeral. I hadn’t been able to answer, but she had left me a voice mail. At the end of her message, I believe she said something like this:

—Even if the “countermeasures” have failed, there’s still…

She said there’s still…which probably means there’s some other way to stop it. I think that was what she was trying to get across.

“I understand,” I answered under Izumi’s serious gaze. “I’ll try reaching out to Mei tomorrow.”

6

“It sounds like there’s been more misfortune at school.”

I was sitting in the exam room at the “clinic” in the annex of Yumigaoka Municipal Hospital.

“I heard that two more third-years passed away this week.”

Nodding slightly in response to Dr. Usui’s inquiry, I told him that one of the students who died had been the head of the biology club that I was part of and that the other had been a classmate of mine.

“The deceased were close friends of yours this time, right?”

“Yes.”

After some hesitation, I confided in him that I’d been the first to arrive at the scene of the horrible accident that had claimed Shunsuke, the head of the biology club.

“Uh…yes…when it happened, I couldn’t do anything…at all…”

I confessed that a sudden, dizzying panic had overtaken me and that I had passed out on the spot.

“Mm-hmm. That’s understandable.” The doctor nodded, maintaining his usual demeanor. “Was that the only time you lost consciousness?”

“Yes.”

“Have you been able to sleep properly at night since it happened?’

“No. Not much.”

“When you wake up, are you experiencing vivid flashbacks?”

“…………”

When I wasn’t able to answer, he scribbled something down in my chart, then said, “At any rate, I’m going to give you some sleeping medication. If you continue to sleep poorly and have frequent nightmares despite the pills…and also if you start suffering bad anxiety during normal day-to-day activities, then please don’t hesitate to come see me. Even if you don’t have an appointment, it’s okay. Call this department directly, and we’ll get you in.”

“All right. Thank you.”

Dr. Usui closed my chart and stroked the whiskers around his mouth. “Hmm.” He lowered his voice somewhat. “And yet, the disturbing—no, tragic incidents continue to occur. Now, unexpected accidents can happen anywhere, of course, but still…”

He frowned keenly and muttered, “Let me see…”

“Is it that legend you mentioned?” I asked, anticipating what he was working up to. “What kind of stories have you heard, Doctor? You told me there were some strange legends related to ‘death.’”

“I do hear some irresponsible rumors on occasion. Unscientific stories about places being cursed and so on.”

Unscientific, you say?

I cast my eyes down, recalling my phone conversation with Hazumi the day before last with unpleasant feelings.

“Your daughter…”

That little girl I ran into after my April counseling appointment. If I remember correctly, her name was Kiha.

“Kiha?”

“Oh! Have I introduced you two before?”

“Uh, no. One time when I was here before, I bumped into her outside the examination room. She said hello to me.”

“Did she? She’s surprisingly friendly toward strangers.” He grinned, nodding to himself. Then he stopped stroking his beard abruptly. “I don’t really know where or how she heard it, but one time, she suddenly blurted out that more people were going to die at your middle school.”

“She’s still in the lower grades at elementary school, right?”

“She’s a second-year now.” Dr. Usui grimaced and blinked his small eyes. Then, for some reason, he continued in a wistful tone of voice. “You know, that girl’s always had something a little strange about her. She… No, it’s not worth worrying about. I’ve said too much.”

After shaking his head slowly once, he looked back at my face. “Anyway, try not to worry about curses and the like, no matter what urban legends you hear. The most important thing for you, Sou, is to maintain a sense of emotional balance. You need to try and put some mental distance between yourself and the deaths that have happened around you…”

Saturday, June 30, late morning. Once again, I found myself unable to tell Dr. Usui about the “phenomenon” surrounding Grade 3 Class 3 at North Yomi.

7

Afterward, I caught sight of the woman who looked like Kirika at the hospital again.

She didn’t seem to notice me, so I missed my chance to say hello, but I was certain it was Kirika. Compared to the last time I had talked to her in person (at the start of February at the “Blue Eyes…” gallery, I believe), she looked extremely haggard. My hunch that something was wrong with her must have been right, since she was here at the hospital.

Despite my curiosity, I passed her, finished paying as always, got my medicine from the pharmacy counter, and headed for the exit. And then, as I was on my way out—

“Sou?”

Someone unexpected called out from behind me, catching me by surprise. It was Mei. When I turned around, I saw her standing there in her First Yomi uniform.

“Oh, ah…um…”

Caught completely off guard, I faltered in my confusion.

Why is she here now?

Did she come with Kirika or something? Or maybe something’s wrong with her and she’s here for an exam?

“Um, ah, uh…”

My mind was just spinning fruitlessly, so I couldn’t get any proper words out. Mei stared at me somewhat listlessly.

“I know you had plans to come by the gallery this evening, Sou, but—”

Mei Misaki was not wearing an eye patch. Squinting her left eye, which was a regular prosthetic instead of her “doll’s eye,” a little, she quickly closed the distance between us.

“But we just ran into each other. What should we do?” she asked. Her somewhat listless look remained. “Should we talk here?”

“Um…ahhh…”

I was still struggling to get any words out when the cell phone inside my trousers pocket rudely interrupted us.

I couldn’t ignore it, so I pulled it out. Just as I expected, the display showed Tsukiho’s name, along with her phone number.

I sighed despite myself. I wondered how many times she’d called me in the past few days. I hesitated for a second and, out of the corner of my eye, saw Mei tilt her head in a question.

In the end, I didn’t pick up. Without checking to see just then whether or not she had left a voice mail, I put the phone back in my pocket.

“You don’t need to answer?” Mei asked. The way she said it told me that she could tell who the call had been from.

“It’s all right.”

Somehow suppressing my distress, I took a deep breath. Then I said, “Mei, do you have time to spare now?”

“What?”

“I mean, um, are you done with your business at the hospital…?”

I felt like it would be difficult to tell her that I had just seen Kirika, so I didn’t mention it. Before I could ask whether she was unwell herself, she suggested, “All right, shall we go?”

“Ah…what?”

“There are lots of people here, and it’s noisy. It’ll be hard to talk unless there’s no one else around, right? I’m sure somewhere like the roof would work…”

8

As I’d promised Izumi and Yagisawa the night before last, I had made up my mind and called Mei the previous night.

I’d told her everything, including that Shunsuke and the others had died, which indicated beyond a shadow of a doubt that the “calamity” had started, at which point we did away with the need for “non-existers.” In addition, I had asked again about the possibility of stopping the “calamity” somehow, but as I had expected, Mei gave another ambiguous answer.

After repeating my question as if she were carefully digesting it, Mei had started to say something—“About that…”—before trailing off. I silently waited for her to continue, and she remained quiet for a long, long time before speaking again.

“I think it would be better to get together and talk in person, rather than over the phone,” she’d suggested. “Would you come over tomorrow afternoon, say around four o’clock? I’ll be waiting in the gallery basement. I’ll tell you everything I know down there. Though I’m unsure how much I’ll be able to reliably say…”

So that morning, I had left my apartment intending to go by her house later that evening. After my hospital visit, I was planning to spend some time at the library in Daybreak Forest until the hour arrived, then head for the gallery in Misaki. However, before that could happen, I unexpectedly ran into her here…

I had no doubt that she was also at least a little surprised by the coincidence.

When we stepped off the elevator onto the roof of the hospital, the rain that had been coming down continuously since that morning had cleared up. But the sky was covered in massive gray clouds, hanging heavy and low. It looked like the rainy season might continue on forever.

A strong wind was blowing. The wind was humid and awfully warm, so no matter how it buffeted me, it did nothing to remove the sweat welling up on my skin.

Mei walked along the outer wall of the rooftop structure that housed the elevators, and I followed after her.

Her short bob was disheveled by the wind. When she reached a particular spot, it suddenly died down. There, Mei stopped walking and looked back at me, then flattened her body a little against the wall. It was a spot right where the structure acted as a windbreak.

“Is it your first time here?” she asked.

I answered, “I’ve never been to this building. I’ve never been hospitalized.”

The name “Sakakibara” came up suddenly, and I put myself on guard, feeling a little tense—that’s how it felt.

“Sakakibara had, let me remember, um, a collapsed lung…a spontaneous pneumothorax?”

“Right.” Mei nodded. “I came here to visit him the second time, and we came up to this rooftop together. When the weather’s clear, you can see every corner of Yomiyama.”

“Is that…so?”

I was acquainted with Koichi Sakakibara. I had met him several times and talked about all sorts of things in the several months between my arrival here in Yomiyama and when he and Mei had graduated from North Yomi. I mostly saw him when he was with Mei, but I had also talked one-on-one with him.

Koichi had heard about my history and my family’s special circumstances from Mei beforehand and understood it perfectly well, so he was always nice to me. Not out of some kind of strange sympathy or pity but a very natural kindness. They were both a huge help to me back then, at a time when I was suffering considerable, profound heartbreak and was in a weakened state. I was still very grateful to him.

Once Koichi graduated from North Yomi, he returned to his home in Tokyo and entered a high school there. At the same time, I became a middle school student. At first, I would talk to him on the phone sometimes about how things were going, but before too long, we gradually fell out of contact…

Mei, on the other hand, had kept up a close friendship with Koichi even after they were separated after graduation. It was something I was acutely aware of whenever Koichi was mentioned. I worked to convince myself that to Mei, Koichi was like a special “comrade” who had survived the same “calamity,” and that’s why they were close.

And yet—sometimes, when I heard his name come out of Mei’s mouth, I felt a twinge in my chest that I couldn’t quite identify. I wonder why? Why does that happen? Ah, I can’t. I can’t think about this too deeply.

“You said that summer vacation was the turning point, right?” I repeated the information I already had, looking for confirmation. “You all stayed somewhere together in August, and while you were there, the ‘calamity’ claimed many victims… But then, in September, the deaths suddenly stopped. Is there any chance that something special happened on that trip?”

“Ah, about that—” Mei started to say, then cut off. Just like she had on the phone the night before. “The reason the ‘calamity’ stopped was actually…”

After a short pause, she stammered out, “A-aside from three years ago, even earlier—during the 1983 school year, too, there was another case of it stopping halfway through. They stayed in the same place over summer vacation that year, too.”

“So something really did happen on the trip?”

“Something did…yes, right. Something happened then. Something…”

As she spoke, the strength gradually left Mei’s voice. She put her right hand to her forehead and stopped talking, then shook her head slowly, looking uneasy.

“Please tell me what happened.” I took a step closer to her as I asked, “What was it? Why did the ‘calamity’ stop? Please, Mei, if you know, tell me…”

“I used to.” She took her hand off her forehead and said, “I had to have known.”

“Had to?” Unable to grasp what she’d just said, I stared at her pale face. Despite the afternoon sunlight, she reminded me of a doll draped in shadows. “What does that mean…?”

The wind roared loudly again.

Maybe because the direction of the wind had changed, the wall we were leaning against ceased to work as a windbreak, and a strong breeze blasted us from the side as we faced each other. My voice was completely drowned out in the wind, and Mei’s hair and clothes were violently disheveled.

Almost as if the wind had chosen that very moment, just then—

That’s definitely from Tsukiho again.

My attention was split. My emotions were a whirlwind.

Today is June 30. Tsukiho said she was coming to see me with Mirei in tow on July 1, so that’s almost here—that’s tomorrow. She wants to talk about when she’s going to get here, where we should meet up, and what we should eat. I know that. I know, but I…

“Your phone.”

I heard Mei’s voice.

The powerful wind suddenly died, almost like it had chosen that moment in particular. Now that the noise was gone, she could hear my phone vibrating.

“It’s probably from your mother,” Mei said and smiled faintly. She was looking at me, and in her right eye, the one that was not a prosthetic, I saw a slight shade of sadness…

“Is it all right not to answer it?” she asked again. “You have to answer it, don’t you?”

Ah, I thought, Mei is always right.

I have to take this call right now. That’s right. I mustn’t run away. I can’t avoid this anymore.

I pulled my phone out and checked the display screen, then pushed the button to answer.

“Hello? It’s Sou.”

9

“Ah, Sou? This is Sou, right? I’ve been calling you, but you weren’t picking up, so I was worried…” Tsukiho dutifully delivered her lines. She sounded almost exactly how I’d imagined she would. She was constantly trying to play up her affection for me, but she was way off the mark. That’s how it sounded to me. “…Are you all right? Sou. You’re not feeling unwell or anything?”

“I’m fine.” For the time being, I suppressed my emotions the best I could and answered, “I’m feeling just fine.”

Tsukiho is coming tomorrow. She’s bringing Mirei and coming to this city. To Yomiyama.

“…And then I’ll need to say hello to Sayuri and everyone else, too.”

When I had heard that much, I cast aside any doubts and opened my mouth. Sucking in a deep breath and letting it out bit by bit, I demanded clearly, “Don’t come.”

The moment I said it, I squeezed my eyes closed.

“Ah?” I heard Tsukiho voice her surprise. “What’s wrong, Sou? What happened?”

“Don’t come to Yomiyama.”

“Huh? Huh? Why not?” I could tell from her tone that she was extremely dismayed. “Why would you say that…?”

“Because I don’t want you to come.”

I gripped the phone tightly and raised my voice slightly. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mei, observing silently. Her gaze was quiet and a little sad.

“I don’t want to see you.” I raised my voice again. “I don’t want to see you or Mirei. So don’t come here.”

“What’s wrong, Sou?” Tsukiho was totally flustered.

“What do you mean, what’s wrong? Why visit all of a sudden?”

“It’s not sudden!”

Then I cut her off. Raising my voice even more, I unleashed all my emotions at once, as if to strike her with my words.

“Have I ever once…at any point, have I said that I wanted to see you? That I want you to come to Yomiyama? Have you ever tried to imagine how I’ve been feeling since moving here, how I still feel?”

“B-but—”

Tsukiho’s response was frail. She was surprised and confused by my unexpected “rejection.” I’m sure this was a big shock to her. It was probably the first time since that summer three years ago that I’d spoken to her this way.

“That’s enough. Don’t come here!” This time, I was practically shouting. It would be a lie to say that I didn’t care about her feelings, about whether she had ever had any second thoughts, but in this current situation, those were secondary, maybe tertiary concerns. Because I—

I had already wrung this answer from inside my own heart…

“Don’t ever show up here!” I shouted, squeezing my eyes shut again. “Not just tomorrow but forever!”

“Sou…”

“Listen to me. I never want to see your face again. I don’t want to spend time with you, and I don’t want to hear your voice.”

“Sou, honey…you can’t—you’re lying.”

“I hate you!”

“Sou…”

“Have you forgotten what happened three summers ago? I remember. I’ll never forget it. I’ll never forget how cruel you were after what happened to Teruya…”

“…………”

“I was in the way, so you kicked me out without a second thought. Mr. Hiratsuka and his household were more important than your own son. And the child you had with him—Mirei—took priority. Right? Do you think I still love you after going through all that? Do you think I didn’t learn to resent you?”

She was speechless.

I imagined there was no way she could keep her cool, after being suddenly called out like that. Instead of a reply, I could hear quiet sobs.

Nevertheless, I continued pouring it on.

“Do you get it? Don’t come for a visit. Don’t ever come near me again. And definitely don’t come here—to Yomiyama.”

Speechless. The weeping continued. Twice I heard the word sorry in the gaps between sobs.

“All right, I’m hanging up.”

“Don’t call me again.”

10

I hung up the phone, and, still gripping it in my right hand, I gazed up at the dark sky. Gazed up so that the tears pooling in my eyes wouldn’t spill down my cheeks. So that the tears wouldn’t make me lose composure and burst out crying right there.

“Your mother—Tsukiho was planning to come and see you, right? Tomorrow was the day?” Mei took one step toward me. “You haven’t seen her in a while? Tsukiho, I mean.”

I lowered my gaze to answer her question. “It’s been about two years since we last met.”

“I see. Hmm.” Mei nodded and stared straight at me. I didn’t want her to notice that I was crying, so I turned away. The wind roared, somewhere much farther off than it had been until now.

I had just said exactly what I needed to say to Tsukiho. But still, my heart continued to ache…

Before long, Mei spoke. “…You love her, don’t you? You love her all the same. But you got angry enough to tell her you loathe her.”

Ah, of course, Mei can see right through me.

I guess…she’s probably right; I don’t hate Tsukiho as much as I just said I do.

It is true that I have a lot of resentment toward her…and I think it’s horrible what happened three years ago and how she’s treated me since. My sorrow and pain have never gone away. Neither has my anger. But while that may be true, I’ve never once been able to detest or “hate” her from the bottom of my heart.

“Because the ‘calamity’ is going on, right?” Mei asked.

I nodded deeply. “That’s right.”

“Because both Tsukiho and little Mirei are ‘related individuals’ within two degrees of you.”

“…Yes.”

“Tsukiho doesn’t know about the ‘calamity’?”

“…Probably not.”

She might have known about it once. At the very least, she had probably been told a certain amount about the situation fourteen years ago, when the whole family left Yomiyama with Teruya. But I was certain that in the months and years since then, she’d let herself forget.

“How kind of you, Sou,” Mei stated, taking another step toward me. “As long as they’re in Hinami, they’re ‘out of range.’ But if they come to Yomiyama, an ‘accident’ might befall the two of them, so…”

I cast my eyes down, trying to avoid Mei’s gaze. Finally, the tears spilled out of my eyes and down my cheeks. My voice threatened to make a sound in spite of me, so I suppressed it with every ounce of my strength.

Mei silently left my side, put her back against the wall of the elevator housing, and stared up at the cloudy sky. The wind had stopped again. In the strange stillness that had suddenly arrived, I heard her sigh.

11

After several minutes passed, Mei spoke up.

“I’ll tell you everything in order. This is a continuation of our earlier conversation, okay?”

“Ah, okay.”

I had to switch my mind back over. For now, I wasn’t worried about Tsukiho and Mirei coming to Yomiyama. So now I had to listen intently to what Mei had to say.

“…Yes.”

“I say I think because I’m not entirely sure.”

“You aren’t?”

“Yeah. About my own memories. What I mean is—” Tilting her head slightly, with a look of distress on her face, Mei continued. “I can’t remember clearly. Almost three years have passed since then, but that part of my memory is incredibly vague now.”

“Is that…?” I remembered something and asked, “…Is it because of the ‘phenomenon’?”

“Right.” She nodded, looking uncharacteristically anxious. “It’s one of the ‘memory problems’ that occur alongside the ‘phenomenon.’ And I think that mine is a special case somehow.”

“How so?”

“When the ‘extra person’—the ‘casualty’—slips into the class, memories and records that wouldn’t otherwise be consistent get altered and falsified so that everything matches up. Once the ‘phenomenon’ ends and the ‘casualty’ disappears, all the evidence of that person goes back to how it was. After that, the memory of who was the ‘casualty’ for that year gradually fades away, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, depending on the person, and everyone forgets who it was. This is the basic pattern. But for something that breaks the mold, take that folder of Mr. Chibiki’s.”

“Ah, okay.”

“There, he makes a note of the names of the ‘casualties’ in years when the ‘phenomenon’ occurs, and those names don’t disappear; they remain on the page. That means that we can see who joined previous classes as ‘casualties’ in the past. You’ve gotten him to show it to you, too, right, Sou?”

“Yes.”

“Still, there’s one thing that isn’t even recorded in his notes. That would be the names of the ‘casualties’ in the years when the ‘calamity’ stopped halfway through.” That’s where Mei stopped talking. She put her hand on her forehead and pondered something briefly.

“I’ll tell you everything in order,” she repeated, as if urging herself on. “It happened during summer break three years ago. Just after it began, through a strange sequence of events, the story of a certain person was handed down to us. Matsunaga, I think his name was. He was a graduate of the class of ’83 at North Yomi, and when he was in his third year, he was in Class 3.”

“1983…the other year when the ‘calamity’ stopped, right?”

“Right.” Mei nodded slowly and started telling me the story in her usual quiet voice. But the way she was speaking, it was like she was carefully scrutinizing every word that came out of her own mouth.

“Three years ago, we were also wondering if there wasn’t some way to stop the ‘calamity’ after it began, and just like you right now, we tried to look for some clues. What we found was Mr. Matsunaga’s story…”

Three years earlier—in 1998—fourteen years had passed since the graduation of Katsumi Matsunaga from North Yomi. One time when he was in a drunken stupor and not in his right mind, he had claimed that “I was the one who helped everyone in Grade 3 Class 3 back in ’83.” However, once he sobered up and came back to himself, he had absolutely no recollection of what he had said. Basically, he had completely forgotten his experience during middle school, but—

According to Mr. Matsunaga’s drunken complaint, he had somehow left something behind in an old classroom in order to pass some important information about the “calamity” on to his successors. Hoping against hope, the students had gone searching for that “something,” and they had actually found it…

“And so you learned how?” I hadn’t meant to interject, but I was excited. “You learned how, didn’t you? How to stop the ‘calamity’?”

“I must have, but—”

At that point, Mei shook her head uneasily again.

But I could hardly hold my excitement in and asked, “But surely you implemented it, and that’s why the ‘calamity’ stopped three years ago, right?”

“I think that’s what happened. That must have been it, but…”

“You can’t recall clearly? Or you don’t remember?”

“…………”

“Why did the ‘calamity’ stop? Who stopped it and how? Give me something, even just a little…”

“In Mr. Matsunaga’s year, fifteen years before us, they also went on a class trip to the same place as we did during summer vacation. I know that for sure, but—”

“Is there any special meaning to the trip itself?”

“We went to visit Yomiyama Shrine together.”

“Like, to do a cleansing ritual at the shrine?”

“But three years ago, we didn’t end up visiting…”

“And Mr. Matsunaga’s class did go, right? To visit the shrine.”

“That’s right. But in the end, their visit had no effect…”

“…………”

“‘To you future underclassmen, who might be suffering the same things we did…’”

“What’s that?”

“It’s from Mr. Matsunaga’s message, the one that was on that tape. He probably figured he was going to forget what happened sooner or later, just like everybody else, and left it behind. That’s why I’m certain that in some form or another, it must be a problem related to my year’s ‘casualty’… The fact that my own memory has gotten so vague in such a short time is further proof, I guess you could say.”

“How can I put this…? I feel like I can see a vague outline of what happened. And there are images of certain things in the fog… Ah, but in the end, I just can’t get a clear picture. It’s like I can’t manage to make any sense of it. Fragmented words and images appear in my mind. But I can’t say for certain how far I can trust them.”

“Uh, Mei… Um, well, has this condition been going on for a long time? Not being able to recall things well even when you try, I mean?”

She nodded wordlessly, then continued. “That’s why—that’s why even when you ask me questions about it, I can only give you vague answers. I’m relying on ambiguous images to guess what happened, and I wouldn’t want to say something careless.”

“Ah…so that’s why.” As I answered, I was suddenly struck by an idea. “And what happened to the cassette tape that had Mr. Matsunaga’s story? Is it still around somewhere?”

“It seems like…it’s not around anymore.” Mei shook her head weakly. “On that trip three years ago, a big fire broke out, and most of the building burned down. The tape probably burned, too.”

“There must have been others besides you who heard the tape, right? What about them?”

“I tried reaching out to them, but no one remembered the contents.” After answering, she added, “By the way, back then, I was keeping a sort of diary from time to time. I’m sure I would have written in the diary about whatever happened at that lodge on the trip. Thing is, I looked through it, and the passages I’m sure I wrote have disappeared or gotten stained by something that made them unreadable…”

When I heard that, I felt slightly dizzy.

The alteration of records… No, in this case, it’s more like elimination? Or erasure?

Can the “phenomenon” of North Yomi’s Grade 3 Class 3 really cause that to happen? It’s almost like…yes, all I can think is that it’s like some malicious spirit is at work here…

I dropped my shoulders dejectedly. As she looked at me, Mei’s gaze remained calm and a little sad, as before.

“Back then—” Mei abruptly opened her mouth. The wind roared in the distance. Mingling with that sound were the voices of a number of noisy crows somewhere. “Back then, Sakakibara was at the heart of it all.”

I let out a gasp of surprise and looked Mei straight in the face. “What do you mean by that?”

“It’s a hopelessly vague way of putting it, I know,” she admitted. “But it’s undeniable that three years ago, on that class trip, something was done to stop the ‘calamity.’ As for what that was, well, I can’t picture anything clearly, but…but when it happened, Sakakibara was there. He was in the center of whatever it was—he was at the heart of it…that much I remember.”

Koichi Sakakibara.

I recalled his face as he had appeared two years ago, before we’d fallen out of contact. All the words we’d exchanged in the handful of months we’d spent together came back to me as I pictured his face.

“So that’s why,” Mei continued, “maybe, if it was him—if you talk to Sakakibara, he may not have forgotten yet. That’s the feeling I get. He was at the heart of the matter, and that means his memories ought to be stronger than mine. Also, Sakakibara left Yomiyama after graduation and has been in Tokyo this whole time.”

“And if he’s outside of Yomiyama—‘out of range,’ then the effect on his memories is weaker?”

“Probably, I think. So…”

Mei told me that for that reason, she had been trying to get in touch with Sakakibara in order to talk about this problem with him. Especially since last month, after Tsugunaga died in the way she did and we had conclusive proof that the ‘calamity’ was starting. She had tried many times. However—

“So far, I haven’t made contact once.” Mei frowned wearily.

“Why is that?” I asked. “Isn’t he in Tokyo?”

“He went abroad? And he’s still there? That’s a long trip!”

“Apparently, it’s not just a short vacation. Sakakibara’s father is a researcher and flies around here and there for fieldwork, right? He’s traveling along with him.”

“Here and there…huh?”

“I tried calling his cell phone lots of times, but it never went through, so I called his house phone, and a house sitter answered and told me. She said that he would be coming back to Japan in the fall.”

Mei frowned even harder and exhaled heavily. She seemed exhausted.

“What about e-mail?” I asked. “Did you try that?”

“I sent him one, but that didn’t work, either. Maybe there’s a problem with his computer.”

“Hmm.”

“I can think of all sorts of possibilities. But since I want to hear from him as quickly as possible, since I need to hear from him…I left a request with the house sitter as well. I asked her to call me immediately if Sakakibara or his father made any kind of contact…”

…Koichi Sakakibara.

Murmuring that name in my mind, I looked up at the sky above my head. The cloudy sky still stretched out, low and dark, just as it had when we’d first climbed up here.

I hope that we can get in touch with him—with Koichi—soon. I hope that he remembers what he did three years ago. At that point, all I could do was pray. It was incredibly frustrating.

The camera passed from Izumi’s hands to Yagisawa’s as they took turns being the photographer. We had also planned to use the timer and take one with the three of us in it, but we couldn’t find an appropriate place to set it up.

I should have gone to the trouble of bringing the tripod, I thought to myself.

Yagisawa was the one who had suggested taking a “commemorative photo” a few days earlier. He’d called me the night before, requesting that I bring my camera, “because it looks like pretty good weather tomorrow…” The long-haired class representative with his round glasses had also decided on this lotus pond for the location. Now he joked, “Well, somehow it works. But as long as the ‘phenomenon’ is happening, we might capture a hand in the pond, too.”

“Stop it—don’t joke about that.” I scowled at him. Then I gave a forced smile, but frankly speaking, I didn’t feel like it at all.

The weather was fair. The blue sky and vibrant sunlight were classic summer. But the rainy season wasn’t quite over yet, and according to the forecast, another front was going to start moving in that evening.

“Okay, I’m taking it!”

Yagisawa readied the camera.

“Get closer, you two. Sou, your expression is too stiff again. Akazawa, you look great… Yeah, okay, say cheese!”

This time, as I was mouthing the word cheese—

Several scenes from other times played out in my mind, as though flashing back to the events of the past few days…

2

…I had accepted an invitation to the penthouse of the Freuden Tobii. Auntie Mayuko had requested I join the Akazawas for tea.

“Wasn’t Tsukiho supposed to come today?” Mayuko had asked me.

Without any particular agitation, I’d answered, “Seems like something suddenly came up.”

“Oh, really?” said Izumi, who knew nothing about the situation. She had peered over at my expression with a look of anxiety on her face but hadn’t made any further comments.

“Tsukiho must be worried, I’m sure,” said Mayuko.

“Why is that?” I’d asked.

“Well, I mean, students from your class have been dying in accidents… There have been all sorts of unfortunate incidents since May. That’s why.”

“I don’t think she knows about that.”

“She doesn’t? You haven’t told her, Sou?”

My silence must have tipped her off, because Mayuko had narrowed her eyes with a kind smile and nodded. “Be that as it may, I feel so bad for all the people who passed away. I mean, what awful luck they had. You were good friends with the boy from the biology club, right?”

“Yeah, kind of.”

Mayuko had never asked me anything before about the special circumstances of Grade 3 Class 3. And I hadn’t even said anything about it to Auntie Sayuri or anyone else. I’d faithfully upheld that “rule.” However—

“I wonder if there will be a summer trip this year?” Mayuko had said suddenly.

“Eh?” Izumi made a startled noise. “Mama, why would you say that?”

“I mean.” Mayuko had a slightly bemused expression. “When it comes to the Grade 3 summer vacation, um, well—”

She had gotten that far and then cut herself off, with a suspicious expression like even she didn’t fully understand why. For a moment, I had wondered what was going on.

Thud, came a low reverberation from somewhere. For a split second, everything had gone dark.

“…You know, your big brother never took a class trip when he was in middle school. I’m sorry. I must have gotten mixed up.” Smiling as if it was no big deal, Mayuko had asked, “Would anyone like more tea?”

That was one scene from the night of Sunday, July 1—three days ago.

3

…The biology club had held a meeting in the science room of Building T.

Since the incident the previous week, our clubroom in Building Zero had remained closed off. We had released many of the creatures we’d been raising, the ones that could go back into the wild. The rest we had divided among the club to be cared for at home.

The adviser, Mr. Kuramochi, and most of the club members were at the meeting. Even fellow Class 3 member, Morishita, came. I was no longer a “non-exister,” so there had been no need for him to take that into consideration.

Our three new members had been reduced to two. Jun Takanashi’s younger brother had submitted his intent to resign from the club after his mother had passed in May. I heard that one of the second-years had also been talking about quitting.

I guess that’s no surprise, huh?

Mr. Kuramochi continued, explaining that when it came to the question of how we should move forward, the first concrete step was to decide whether to continue the club at all or disband it then and there.

The room in Building Zero wasn’t ready yet. There was also the question of how everyone felt about using it at all, knowing what had happened there.

“What do you think?” Mr. Kuramochi had asked us. “What do you all want to do? I want to hear your genuine opinions here.”

He waited a while for our responses, but no one answered him. Everyone was nervously looking around at one another’s expressions.

“Hmm.” The teacher had crossed his arms, seeming as though he was about to say something else.

“I vote we continue,” I’d declared boldly, unable to keep quiet any longer. “If we quit now, I think Shunsuke—I think Kouda would be sad. I’m sure we’ll have to do things differently, but I think we should keep going.”

I don’t even mind becoming the leader, if no one else is willing to do it, I’d thought, riding the momentum of what I had said.

“So that’s one vote for continuing.” Mr. Kuramochi wasn’t smiling, but there was a note of happiness in his voice. “Anyone else? What do you think?”

I didn’t know how everyone there actually felt, but no one had raised any objections.

“You’ve got your final exams coming up soon this month, so let’s talk again after those are over. Mm. If it seems like we have the required number of people who want to keep going, we can try to get things back up and running over the summer break.”

No one had voiced any opposition to the teacher’s suggestion…

Will this do, Shunsuke?

It’s okay, isn’t it, Shunsuke?

That was one scene from the afternoon of Monday, July 2—two days ago.

4

…Mayuko and Izumi had come knocking at the Akazawa main house just after dinner. The renovations that had started in April were finally nearing completion. They’d said they wanted to see how it looked.

It had taken much longer than originally planned, but the old house had been boldly restructured and remodeled. Now it possessed a “newness” that made it scarcely recognizable. Overall, the interior was brighter than it had been before, and it had been made more functional in key places. Everything had been thoroughly redone to accommodate our grandfather’s needs.

“What about your room, Sou?” Izumi asked, so I showed her. It had been used only as storage for a while, but now it was completely cleaned up, and even the wallpaper and flooring were shiny and new.

“Once the house is finished, you’re coming back here, right? Soon after the start of summer vacation?” Izumi had asked as she looked around the empty room.

“I guess that’s how it’ll work out,” I answered, letting out a small sigh. “After all, it’s not like I can continue to be a burden over there forever, is it?”

“That’s not how it is. I don’t think so anyway.” Izumi laced the fingers of both hands together and stretched toward the ceiling with a big sigh. “But I guess it’s right next door. Come over and see me sometimes after you move back, okay?”

After that, the two of us went into the sitting room in the back of the house, where our grandfather was.

He’d said my name the same way he always did, and a clumsy smile had appeared on his aged face. Then he’d shifted his gaze to Izumi, and when he did, that smile immediately disappeared.

“Are you Izumi?” His voice creaked. He sounded suspicious or maybe confused. “But you’re…” He didn’t seem able to focus on his granddaughter… It might have been my imagination, but his eyes had looked cloudy somehow. “How are you still…?”

Come to think of it, I recalled hearing from Izumi that he had said something like that to her before, too. It might have been a consequence of his poor health, and certainly, he had been growing more sullen and harder to please lately, but seeing him treat her like that in front of my own eyes, I realized why she’d complained about him before.

It was a strange way to act when your granddaughter came to visit—that was certain… It had seemed like an awfully unnatural reaction to me.

“Seems like the construction will be finished soon, huh?” Trying to dispel the awkward atmosphere, I cut in quickly. “Once that’s done, it’ll be easier for you to move around inside the house, won’t it, Grandpa?”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” he answered glumly. “But, well, thank goodness the construction will be done. Even in this room, it’s so loud, I can’t stand it. Good grief…”

Grandpa had spat out the words, then sluggishly shifted around on his futon and looked toward the window.

Outside was a spacious rear garden lit by lamps. In the drizzling rain that continued to fall, the large hackberry tree that spread its limbs over the middle of the yard had looked like a dark shadow.

“Kyah!” Izumi had suddenly let out a short shriek. When I turned around in surprise, I’d seen that Kurosuke the cat had come into the room at some point and jumped up onto her lap. Kurosuke had been startled by the shriek, too, and started trying to leap down off her knees.

Apparently, Kurosuke had confused her for something else and scratched her on the hand.

“What was that? Why?”

Lacking the ability to answer Izumi’s questions, he simply meowed and padded out of the room.

She sighed and looked down at her right hand where he had scratched her. Small, bright drops of red blood welled up in the exact center of her white palm.

That was one scene from the evening of Tuesday, July 3—yesterday.

5

…Sayuri and Mayuko, the two aunts, had been deep in conversation in the living room, so Izumi and I left them there and went back to the Freuden Tobii ahead of them. The rain had stopped just as we were leaving, so we hadn’t needed to put up our umbrellas.

“Is your hand okay?” I’d asked Izumi on the way.

“Mm. It’s fine…but…” She raised her right hand, which was covered in medical tape. “But that was the first time Kurosuke’s ever scratched me so hard. It shocked me. I wasn’t even doing anything that would bother him.”

“Hmm, well, cats are fickle creatures,” I’d answered casually and then glanced over at her right hand. “You’d better disinfect it properly after you get home, you know. I mean, apparently, there’s something called cat-scratch fever, so be careful.”

“And if the scratch gives me a high fever and the symptoms get worse very quickly…if that happens, it’ll be the ‘calamity’ causing it?”

“I’m worried it might be like that.”

“I’m joking. I’ll be fine. I’ll disinfect it again once I’m home, and if I do start feeling bad, I’ll go see a doctor right away.”

“Mm.”

“Nothing yet.”

She was referring to my meeting with Mei on the roof of the hospital last Saturday. I had relayed the basic summary of our conversation to Izumi that very same day…

“So she still hasn’t gotten a hold of this Sakakibara guy, huh? Even if she does reach him, there’s the question of whether he’ll even remember anything that happened three years ago.”

“That’s right.”

“If you learn anything, be sure and tell me.”

“Ah, sure. Of course that’s my intention, so…”

That was another scene from Tuesday evening—yesterday.

6

Yagisawa and me. Izumi and me. And while we were at it, we got solo shots of each of us, too. We were snapping pictures for some time, and our homeroom teacher, Ms. Kanbayashi, happened to pass by unexpectedly.

“Oh! Some kind of photo shoot?” she called out to us.

Yagisawa jokingly shouted back, “We’re taking three-person commemorative photos!”

Ms. Kanbayashi nodded with a serious look on her face. “I see. Is that because Mr. Hiratsuka was a ‘non-exister’ when we took the group photo at the beginning of April?”

“That’s our teacher, quick on the uptake,” Yagisawa quipped again. “Because of that, we started talking about how we should take a commemorative photo with Sou in it before the end of first semester. Speaking of which, Ms. Kanbayashi, would you help us out and get one with all three of us in it?”

“Okay, here we go.”

Accepting the role of photographer with surprising willingness, she readied the camera.

“Please go ahead and use up the rest of the film,” I said.

“Got it. Okay…you’re standing in a good place. Hiratsuka, get a little closer to Akazawa. Yagisawa, you’re too close. Okay, I’m taking it.”

Ms. Kanbayashi seemed used to handling a camera. I heard the sound of the shutter several times in succession. The film ran out and started rewinding itself automatically.

“One of these days, let’s take another one with everyone in the class, shall we?” Ms. Kanbayashi said in a deliberately cheerful voice. “There’s the graduation album to think about, after all… When we put that together, we should take a picture with Hazumi and Makise in it, too.”

The graduation album…graduation, huh?

That word had a hollow ring to it somehow, and I let out a quiet sigh.

There are still nine months to go before then. If the monthly “accidents” continue, just how many students are going to be left by the time graduation rolls around? I was sure I wasn’t the only one thinking it, but no one said anything out loud.

“Next week is already the end-of-term exams, huh?” Ms. Kanbayashi said as she was leaving. “I know that focusing on your studies must be quite difficult, but there’s no way Class 3 could skip out on testing. With that understanding, I hope you will do your best. If you have any trouble, please come and talk to me anytime…”

Having finished our “commemorative photo shoot,” we briefly returned to our classroom on the third floor of Building C.

“Oh man, the clouds spread out really quickly!” Yagisawa noticed, staring out the window. “If we’re going by the forecast, it’s supposed to start raining again tonight. It’ll be one of those flash floods that comes at the end of the rainy season.”

“No. I think the average year is about like this,” Yagisawa answered, running his hand through his long hair, which was crunchy with mousse.

Just then, I noticed that my cell phone was getting a call.

7

For a second, I thought it might be a call from Mei. Glancing at the display, however, I knew immediately that wasn’t the case. It was showing an unregistered number that I had never seen before.

“Hello?” I answered.

“This is Sou Hiratsuka’s cell phone, right?” came the voice on the other end. There was a lot of static or something, and it was hard to hear, but it was male. And then I realized it did belong to someone I knew…

“…Sakakibara?”

“Sou, right? It’s been a while.”

This sudden call from Koichi Sakakibara, it took me off guard.

How on earth did this happen?

He must have already talked to Mei. Or else…

I tightened the squeeze on my phone. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the shisa charm on my Okinawa souvenir sway.

“Um…are you calling from overseas?”

“From Mexico. So I can’t talk for that long.”

Mexico, huh? There’s probably about a half a day’s time difference between there and Japan, isn’t there? Which means it’s the middle of the night for him now.

“I just got in touch with Misaki. She told me about your situation. I was hoping it wouldn’t happen, but of all the classes, you ended up in Class 3, and it’s an ‘on year,’ too. What luck.”

I gripped my phone even harder. I didn’t notice, but my voice got louder, too. Yagisawa and Izumi, naturally, must have been wondering what was going on.

“I heard that earlier from Misaki,” said Koichi. Ksh-ksh-ksh… The rasp of static on the line made it hard to hear his voice. “So…memories of three years ago have already gotten fuzzy for her, huh? The question is what did we do, in order to stop the ‘calamity’ that year? She told me that she has no confidence at all in her own memories on that matter.”

“And you, Sakakibara?” I asked almost prayerfully.

“I wonder? I wonder if I remember?”

There was a long silence, and then an answer came. “Ah! I do remember. I haven’t forgotten yet. I remember our class trip during that summer break to the lodge. I remember what I did there.”

“So…?”

“I talked to Misaki about this earlier, too. About what you need to do in order to stop the ‘calamity’ at this point and how to do it. When she heard what I had to say, I think it helped her dredge up some of her memories of that time. But…”

“But?”

“She was one of the people involved with the ‘phenomenon’ that year, and after it was over, she stayed in Yomiyama… So you see, I wonder whether she’s going to be able to hold on to the information she heard from me earlier. Maybe the influence of Yomiyama as the ‘site’ of it all will make her memory go fuzzy again right away or alter it entirely.”

“Can that happen?”

“…I don’t know.” He sighed. “I don’t know, but she seems to be worried about it. That’s why I figured I had better talk to you directly about this as well, Sou. She asked me to. She said she wanted me to call you and tell you this as well, just in case.”

“Ah…”

“Ksh-ksh-ksh…ear me? Can you hear me? Sou?”

“Ah, yes,” I answered him, but the noise continued to cut in. Koichi’s words became garbled and unintelligible in places. Almost like something was blocking the signal.

“…Well…anyway, the main point…you ready?”

“Yes.”

I adjusted my grip on my cell phone and pressed it firmly against my ear.

“Return the ‘casualty’ to ‘death,’” Koichi told me.

“Huh?” Without meaning to, I repeated after him, “The ‘casualty’ to ‘death’…?”

“Matsunaga, the guy who left us that tape, that’s what he did. And three years ago, I did it, too.”

“Um, so then…what does that…?”

Ssh-ssh-ksh-ksh-ksh… Again, the static interference cut in.

I wonder if it’s this bad on his end? I wonder if everything I’ve said has made it through to him?

Before I could confirm, I heard Koichi again. “…Misaki’s the only one…are you listening? If I can give you any advice…”

Ssh-ssh-ssh-ksh-ksh-ksh-ksh-ksh…

“—lieve it. Believe her…that ‘eye’ of hers…no matter what truths it might reveal, even if you can’t accept them or don’t want to—”

…That “eye” of hers?

Ah, could that mean…?

Ssh-ssh-ssh-ssh-ksh-ksh-ksh-ksh-ksh-ksh…

I managed to catch a few more words from him over the growing static. “Got it, Sou? Return the ‘casualty’ to ‘death’… Don’t hesitate, just act. Believe her, and…”

I didn’t have time to ask what I was supposed to do. The static, which seemed like a manifestation of some malicious will, grew louder and louder, until I had to pull the phone away from my ear…

And then the connection finally severed.

Somehow, I knew in my gut that trying to call Koichi again was pointless, that the connection would never go through.

That evening, I spoke to Mei Misaki on the phone.

If I hadn’t been with Izumi and Yagisawa, I probably would have left school and headed straight for the gallery in Misaki. But it seemed like Izumi and Yagisawa might have tried to follow me, after hearing my exchange with Koichi. I had no doubt that Izumi in particular had guessed the content of our conversation.

But I wanted to talk one-on-one with Mei first.

“That phone call was from the famous Mr. Sakakibara, right?” Izumi asked me on the way home. Yagisawa was walking with us, too.

“Yeah. He said he had something to tell me directly.”

“And?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer.

Before I tell Izumi, I have to get in touch with Mei. My first priority is to speak with her and compare the information we got from Koichi. In addition…

“What does return the ‘casualty’ to ‘death’ mean?”

Of course, if they had been listening to my side of the phone call, that phrase would have left an impression.

“Is that, by any chance—?”

“I don’t know,” I said, cutting Izumi off. “The static was awful, so I couldn’t hear him very well.”

“So…”

“Sakakibara said that he called Misaki and talked to her as well. The thing to do now is to go check with her.”

I was able to get a hold of her that evening, a little past eight. I tried calling many times before then, but they didn’t go through, so she called me back later on.

I informed her that I had received a direct call from Koichi, who was in Mexico. Then I revealed what he had told me—in minute detail. She kept silent and listened, then, after I was done talking, stayed quiet for a little while…

“Yes.”

“He told me the same thing. When I heard those words, it was like some sort of ‘figure’ took shape in my vague memories.”

“Oh, really?” Without meaning to, I raised my voice. “So then, Mei, what should we do? Return the ‘casualty’ to ‘death’… So in other words…”

“Calm down, Sou,” she urged. In contrast to me in my haste, she spoke in a quiet voice, as if she was carefully checking her footing as she proceeded. “Return the ‘casualty’ to ‘death.’ You can guess what that means, right?” she asked in the same quiet voice.

“Yes,” I answered with uncontrollable uneasiness. “In other words, kill the ‘casualty,’ right?”

“Well, they’re already dead, so it’s probably not right to use the word kill, but…in any case, you have to somehow return them to the grave. That is the only way to stop the ‘calamity’ once it’s started.”

“But wait, Misaki—” I’d wanted to ask her this since the phone call the night before. “Someone in the class is the ‘extra person,’ the ‘casualty,’ right? And we have no way of knowing who that is until after graduation for that school year… But then…”

But how, then?

When the question made it that far out of my mouth, I finally had a realization. The instant it struck me, I gasped. Why didn’t I realize this earlier? Why couldn’t I see it? I cursed myself for my own stupidity.

“I see. So that’s why Sakakibara said to trust you?”

“…………”

“He told me to trust your ‘eye.’ Is it possible that your ‘doll’s eye’ can…?”

Mei’s “doll’s eye” could see things that “shouldn’t be seen.” According to Mei, it was like the “color of death.” And that “power” could be effective at distinguishing the “casualty” who’d slipped into the world of the living due to the “phenomenon”—that was my guess.

Mei spoke matter-of-factly, but the look on her face was awfully troubled.

“But you know, even though I heard him tell me about it, and even though the ‘figures’ are coming back to me in fragments, I still barely feel like it was real… It’s hard to be sure.”

“…………”

“I wonder what we’ll do if we’re wrong. And if that ‘doll’s eye’ still has that ‘power’ in the first place.”

“He told me to trust you.” I raised my voice again. “He said…‘believe Misaki and don’t hesitate.’”

“Mm…he did. He said something similar to me, but…”

She let out another distressed sigh and, after a short pause, said, “Let me think a little—about whether this is really a good idea. And if it is, then how do we go about it?”

9

Just as Yagisawa’s forecast predicted, it started raining around sunset. However, for some reason, it was a much more violent rain than expected. Along with the rain, the wind also began blowing very fiercely. I could occasionally hear claps of thunder in the distance. It looked like a storm was rolling in.

I spent the night tossing and turning.

Even after I took some of the medicine that I got from the “clinic,” my sleep was shallow and unrestful. I woke up many times, and each time I did, I had to fight to repress the disturbing images that spread through my mind. Koichi Sakakibara’s directive to return the “casualty” to “death” was probably what all the scenes had in common…

…Uncle Teruya.

…Uncle Teruya.

I repeated his name, as if I wanted to ask him something. When I was a child, I had asked him all sorts of questions whenever I went to play at his home, Lakeshore Manor.

“What happens to people when they die?”

“What does it mean to grow up”

“What is falling in love?”

…………

…………

…If I had the chance, what would I have asked Teruya now? And what kind of answer would I have hoped to get from him?

10

The following day—the morning of Thursday, July 5.

When I stopped by the Akazawa house for breakfast, there was a message from the school. It said that since a heavy rain and flood warning had been issued for the whole Yomiyama area early that morning, classes would not be held that day.

Of course, I’d barely been able to sleep the night before; honestly, I still wasn’t fully awake. So when I heard this, I felt inwardly relieved.

Now that the “calamity” was here, it was probably dangerous to go to and from class in stormy weather. I couldn’t help but worry about things like that. And it seemed to me that most of my classmates were feeling the same way.

If this mentality escalated, and I started worrying about anything that could pose a risk, it would only be a matter of time before I stopped going to school at all. And after that, maybe I would become an agoraphobe. And if that happened, and my fear grew ever larger, then…

Quitting school, skipping town entirely—I wouldn’t be surprised if other people are already considering the same thing, like they have to get out somehow.

But no one had taken such drastic measures yet.

I figured it was probably due to our immaturity and lack of freedom as middle school students. The taboo against freely discussing the special circumstances of Grade 3 Class 3 with family probably also had something to do with it…

In any case, after I returned to the Freuden Tobii, I spent my day without taking a single step outside of my apartment.

At least as long as I’m sitting shut up in here, I can get through it without being exposed to unnecessary risks. It’s safe. I have peace of mind.

I felt a surge of strong fear like I never had before, and it stirred up many feelings and thoughts. It was as if my feelings were being stirred up by the intensity of the continuing rainstorm outside.

We had end-of-term exams the next week, but there was no way I was going to be able to bring myself to study. I tried to read the new book I had borrowed from Izumi’s older brother’s bookshelf, but even though I was turning the pages, none of the story was making it through to me.

As I was trying to read, a question came to me. As I recognized it, it coiled itself around my mind and wouldn’t loosen its grasp on me no matter how I tried to squirm free…

…Who is it?

Who on earth is the “casualty” who slipped into our class?

I thought about the students of Grade 3 Class 3, with the exception of Tomoko Tsugunaga and Keisuke Kouda, who’d already passed. One of the remaining students was the “extra person,” a “casualty” who shouldn’t have existed in the first place.

But who the hell is it?

It was a question that I couldn’t hope to answer, no matter how much I thought about it. But even knowing that, I couldn’t help but wonder. And once I started ruminating on the problem, my mind turned to the names and faces of the students I had met only in third year (who I hadn’t given much thought to before).

If that was the case, if the “extra person” turned out to be somebody I’d never known before this year, it probably would have been easier for me to accept. I could have just waved it off and been done with it…

But in reality, there was no reason it had to be one of those people.

They weren’t the only candidates. The people who I had known for a long time, whose names and faces I recognized—including Yagisawa and Izumi, as well as Hazumi and Morishita… Since all memories and records related to the “extra person” had been altered or falsified, they could be anyone. Nobody could be counted out for certain.

Not a single person… That’s right, even as I sit here carefully thinking it out like this, I myself could be…

…………

…I could be.

I could?

Could I actually be nothing more than the “extra person”? The “casualty”?

I suppose it’s possible.

The more seriously I considered it, the less I was able to deny it with absolute certainty.

In any case, if my memories had been “altered,” nothing was off the table. Everything that I thought I remembered was suspect; that’s what it came down to. There was nothing I could believe in…

No, wait.

Koichi Sakakibara had said something to me the other day.

He’d told me to “believe her.”

“Believe that ‘eye’ of hers”…

…………

…By “her,” he meant Mei Misaki, and her eye—the blue “doll’s eye” that Kirika had made for her.

It had been a long time since I’d seen that false eye, which fit into Mei’s left eye socket. Last month, Mei had confided in me the reason for that.

When was that?

That was—

That’s right—that was back in mid-April. It was the first time I saw Mei after we found out that it was going to be an “on year.” I visited the “Blue Eyes…” gallery, and we talked in the basement, and she was wearing her eye patch on her left eye…

At the time, I remembered thinking it had been a long time since I had seen Mei with the eye patch on. The left eye patch…which probably meant that the “doll’s eye” was concealed beneath it… If that was the case…

What would it mean?

Why would Mei have had in her “doll’s eye” on that occasion?

Only one answer sprang to mind.

11

The rain kept pouring down furiously all day.

Finally, a little past six in the evening, around the time the sun was setting, the intensity of the storm started to weaken somewhat. The flood warning was also lifted around that time. Before long, I would probably get notice from Auntie Sayuri that dinner was ready.

That’s when Mei called me.

I looked at her name on the display of my phone and reflexively stood up from the chair I was sitting in. Last night and now today. I had gotten phone calls from her two days in a row, which was a rarity in my experience.

“Hello? Mei?”

“Sou.”

The moment I heard her voice, I knew that something was off.

How could I explain it? That instant, the first thing I felt was a deep sense of unease.

What’s going on? Could she be dealing with some sort of crisis?

“Um…what’s up?” I asked timidly.

After a very long pause, Mei answered, “It’s about the ‘casualty.’”

“Uh, okay?”

“I gave it some thought,” she said before taking another very long, unnatural pause.

At that point, I felt certain that I had been seized by some sort of premonition. I couldn’t tell just then what “shape” it would take, but it was obviously something dark and gloomy…

“What’s going on?” I asked again. It had been only a few seconds, but I was already very nervous. My hand sweat as it gripped the phone.

“Sou.” Mei said my name again, let out a sigh, then told me in a tormented voice, “We have to hurry. That’s what I was thinking, and I—”

12

The signboard for the gallery was a black board with cream-colored lettering. Looking up at the dripping wet sign, I tried to calm my labored breathing.

I had ridden my bike all the way from my apartment in Tobii to Misaki, in the ceaseless rain.

I was bitter over the fact that I had fallen once along the way, when a strong gust of wind blew against me from the side, causing my tires to slip and throwing off my balance. At that exact moment, I’d heard an ambulance siren like something shrieking in the night, which only startled me further.

I had hit my left knee on the ground when I fell, and it was still throbbing with pain. If I’d known that would happen, I would have given up on the idea of going out on my bike altogether.

I checked the time on my watch.

A little after seven. Not even an hour had passed since Mei’s phone call earlier.

I parked my bike and headed toward the gallery entrance, struggling to remove my dripping wet poncho.

There was a sheet of paper posted on the door that read, CLOSED UNTIL JULY 8. I hadn’t heard anything about the gallery taking off, so I was suspicious as I stretched my hand out toward the door—

I tried to push it open as usual, but it didn’t budge. It was locked.

“All right, I’ll be waiting on the first floor of the gallery, so come see me,” Mei had told me on our earlier phone call. I had answered that I was heading over right away. So even if the gallery was closed, I had expected her to leave the door open for me. And yet…

I tried applying force to the door again. But as I expected, it didn’t budge.

Maybe she went back upstairs because I took a while to get here? No, I don’t think she would… As I was deliberating, I dug through my pants pocket under my poncho. I was hesitant to dial the interphone that connected directly to upstairs, so I thought I would try Mei’s cell phone first. However—

“Hmm?”

I made a noise.

“What?”

My cell phone wasn’t there.

In a panic, I searched all my pockets, as well as the inside of my backpack. But it was nowhere to be found.

Did I leave it somewhere or drop it? Maybe I lost it when I fell on the way over?

“Crap,” I grumbled as I continued to rummage around in my bag for the missing phone.

“Ah!” I let out another cry.

On the other side of the door was Mei. Since she had her back to the lights in the gallery, her whole body was indistinguishable from a black shadow.

“Sou,” she said. “Thank you for coming.”

“Ah, sure.”

“Come in.”

As she bade me in, I saw that her left eye was covered with a white eye patch.

13

Once I got inside, I understood the meaning of the sign that read CLOSED UNTIL JULY 8.

The familiar first floor, which I had visited many times before, was practically unrecognizable. Calling it a mess would be underselling it.

The display cases had been moved from where they used to stand, and none of the dolls that had previously decorated them was present. Looking around, I could see a bulging pile in one of the corners of the gallery floor that was covered with white fabric. They must have been piled up together underneath that.

A tall stepladder sat in a different corner, and above it were several wires coming down from the ceiling. Is that…for hanging something over there? I wondered.

“Kirika suggested altering the layout of the first floor a little,” Mei explained. “A contractor she knows started coming in yesterday, but he’s kind of unreliable. Kirika seems anxious.”

I see.

The long, narrow table where Grandma Amane always sat beside the door was also pushed up against the wall. On top of the table and in front of it on the floor were scattered tools that a contractor would use and bundles of wire…

“Sorry about the entrance being locked,” Mei said. “I left it open, but the wind was too strong, and the door seemed insecure.”

“Ah, it’s fine.” I shook my head forcefully. “It took me a lot longer to get here than I expected.”

“Are you hurt?” she asked. She must have seen me favoring my left knee. And noticed that my pants were very dirty.

“I fell off my bike and kind of… Ah, but I’m fine.” I forced myself to gently pat my smarting knee and then folded up my poncho and set it at my feet.

“Are you really okay?”

“Totally fine.”

“I was thinking maybe tomorrow would be okay, but…but—”

“You said we have to hurry?”

Instead of answering, she led me to the sofa in the back of the room.

Mei was dressed in an indigo-blue shirt and a short, pleated skirt. The piece of black clothing seemed to melt into the gloom of the twilight interior of the gallery. By contrast, the eye patch over her left eye was pure white, without the slightest hint of dirt—

“So why are you in such a hurry tonight?” I asked boldly, once we were seated on the sofa, facing each other at an angle. Mei swiftly shrank from my gaze.

“…I don’t know why.”

After a brief silence, that was her answer.

“You don’t know why…you’re in such a rush?” I asked. There was another brief silence. Then—

“I have a bad feeling…”

…………

…Is she hiding something?

I felt like she might be.

Is she hiding something from me?

Something seemed off about the way Mei was speaking. But I didn’t press her any further. I didn’t want to force her to tell me something she didn’t want to.

Three summers ago, she’d told me that her prosthetic held a mysterious “power.” That it could see things that shouldn’t be seen—that it could glimpse the “color of death.” But—

In what situations and in what way? Mei had never offered a more concrete description of the eye’s abilities, so I had no idea what exactly it could do. It was clear that it could see some kind of special color surrounding people close to death—but that was as far as my understanding went.

That’s why…

That’s why, even when I heard those things from Koichi yesterday, I hadn’t immediately made the connection between Mei’s “power” and the fact that she could use it to recognize the “casualty” among my classmates. It took some time for me to connect the dots.

The first time I had visited the gallery, back in April, Mei had been wearing the eye patch over her left eye. Now, finally, I understood why.

I was certain that back then, once we had established that this school year was an “on year,” she must have been using her “doll’s eye” on me. To ensure that I, Sou Hiratsuka from Grade 3 Class 3, who’d come to deliver that information, was not the “extra person,” the “casualty.”

I told her my theory. And then I asked, “Doesn’t that mean that back in April, you believed in the ‘power’ of your ‘doll’s eye’?”

Mei tilted her head uneasily and answered, “I wonder? That was probably it. Maybe I could still remember something about returning the ‘casualty’ to ‘death’ three years ago. Perhaps my memories hadn’t been erased yet. After I spoke on the phone with Sakakibara, I felt more and more as if that was the case.”

“And now? How do you feel?”

“…………”

Mei silently tilted her head again, then took one deep breath and straightened her shoulders. And then she slowly removed the eye patch.

“Tried it out?”

“I tested to see whether I could see the ‘color of death’ like I could before.”

“How?”

“On the Internet,” she answered, knitting her eyebrows wearily. “There are sites where they compile images of real dead bodies, right? I searched for some of those.”

“And?” I urged her on.

“I saw it.” Mei sighed. “Just like before. That color, that seems like it would be impossible to make no matter what paints you mixed, which doesn’t seem to exist in this world. The ‘color of death.’”

“Ah…”

“Right now, when I look at you like this with my ‘eye,’ I don’t see the ‘color of death’ around you, Sou. I know that you’re alive. Just like you were when I witnessed you three years ago.”

“Sure.”

I am alive. I am not the “casualty.”

The suspicion and self-doubt that had coiled around my heart and refused to budge finally vanished, like a parting mist. As far as I was concerned, Mei’s words were still worth trusting above everything else, after all.

Feeling a modest sense of relief, I looked again at her—at her left eye, from which she had removed the eye patch. She blinked slowly, then stared straight back at me.

“Yesterday, after I talked to you on the phone…” Mei took another deep breath. “I thought. I thought about what I should do, what I needed to do. Whether I should put in this ‘doll’s eye’ and, for instance, go to North Yomi, into your classroom, and look directly at everyone in your class…or something. I felt like that might be the most definite way to do it. But…”

“You said we have to hurry?”

“Right.” Mei nodded enthusiastically. “That’s why…”

“…Hey, Sou?”

I thought back to my exchange with Mei on the phone an hour earlier.

“Do you have any kind of photograph?”

“A photo?”

“Like one that shows as many members of your class as possible. Something like a group picture would be best.”

“The ‘color of death’ also shows up in photos?” I asked.

“I should be able to see it, but…” Mei had answered almost as if she was giving herself instructions. “If the picture is too small, it might not be as clear. But still, it will probably work—”

Suddenly, I recalled the class photo I had seen once in Izumi’s room. The shot photo that Ms. Kanbayashi had taken on the day of the entrance ceremony.

“—to a certain extent.” Mei had sounded like she was completely lost in thought.

I started to get worked up, too, and had found myself unconsciously raising my voice. “A class photo… Except for two or three people, I’ve got one that shows everyone.”

“And I don’t suppose you could come show it to me now?”

“Right now?”

“If you can…anyway, as soon as possible.”

“Got it.”

That’s as much as she had told me. It wasn’t a situation for wavering or hesitating. I’d made up my mind immediately.

As soon as I hung up the phone, I immediately dashed over to Izumi’s apartment. I’d briefly explained the circumstances to her. She had been surprised by the sudden request, and I borrowed the aforementioned group photograph.

“You’re going now?” Izumi had asked me.

“Immediately,” I’d answered.

“I’ll go with you, too,” she offered.

Then I had hurried off into the rain.

15

As Mei had said earlier, from time to time, the wind beat at the front door and set it rattling on its hinges. That was because we hadn’t locked it after I came in.

If this is the noise it’s making now that the wind has died down quite a bit, it must have been way louder before.

“Um…here you go.”

Opening my backpack, I pulled out a light-green plastic folder. The group photo in question was about five by seven inches. I had stuck it in this folder before bringing it over to avoid bending it.

Mei nodded meekly and drew her lips together tightly. I also nodded, then handed her the photograph, folder and all. In the semidarkness of the gallery, I was bursting with tension that set my skin tingling.

“Okay…”

Mei took the folder. She gently pulled the picture out and set it on top of the table. Then she bent over it a little and peered down at it.

Then there was a brief period of silence.

Two seconds, three seconds… Mei silently examined the photo. I held my breath as I watched her. The front door kept rattling loudly, and in the intervals between rattling, I felt as if I could faintly hear the secret whispers exchanged by the dolls in the corner of the gallery floor.

At last, Mei lifted her eyes from the photograph. She let out a short sigh.

“Can you see it?” I asked timidly. “Are they there, in that photograph?”

She glanced briefly at me, but then without answering, she returned her gaze to the picture. After scrutinizing it, she put her right palm against her right eye to cover it, then stared again using only her left “doll’s eye.”

“Are they there?” I repeated my question.

I leaned forward off the sofa. Mei glanced my way again and gave another short sigh, shaking her head slightly.

“This is them.”

She took her right hand off her right eye and extended her pointer finger, then brought it closer to the photo. As I leaned even farther forward in order to ascertain who she meant—

The clanging of the doorbell filled the gallery.

When I turned, I saw that the front door had just been opened, and a person had come flying in from outside.

“Sou!” She called my name in a loud voice. “Sou…ah, here you are! Thank goodness!”

Without even folding her wet umbrella, she threw it down and rushed over to me. I stood up from the sofa. I had no idea what was going on. She was gasping and panting for breath. It seemed like she had run here with all her might through the rain.

“Wh—?”

Why? I was about to ask, but I was cut off.

She said, “You dropped your cell phone in my apartment.”

She pulled my phone, with its shisa lion strap, out of the pocket of her white raincoat and showed it to me.

“Ah…”

“We got a call after you ran off. It went to yours first, then mine.”

“Huh?”

“…I knew that you were headed here, and I didn’t know what else to do, so I followed you. Listen, Sou, something awful happened.”

“Something awful?”

“The call was to let us know!”

Her face was extremely stiff, and her lips were strained and trembling, and she looked like she might burst into tears at any second.

“It’s really awful! The hackberry tree in the garden fell down and crashed into Grandpa’s room!”

“What?!”

“Grandpa is badly injured; his life is in danger. That’s what Auntie Sayuri called to tell us.”

Perhaps… Those sirens I heard when I fell off my bike on the way here…maybe they were from an ambulance that was dispatched when the hospital got word of the accident at the Akazawa house?

“Sou.” This time Mei was speaking. I turned around, flustered. Her face was pale and just as stiff as the face of the girl who had burst in.

“Sou, listen. Are you ready?”

“Ah…y-yes.”

Mei had been pointing at the photograph on the table. As I watched, she raised her arm, keeping her finger extended, swinging her hand up to indicate the girl standing there…

“Are you ready, Sou?” Mei announced quietly. “The ‘casualty’ is standing right there.”

I couldn’t respond. It was suddenly very hard to breathe, like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

“I can see the ‘color of death’ on her.”

Still pointing to her—to Izumi Akazawa—Mei continued in the same tone of voice.

“I can see it on her in this photograph. And I can see it on her standing there.”

16

Izumi?

She’s this year’s “extra person”? She’s the “casualty”…?

I was utterly shocked, totally bewildered. The first thought that came to my mind was that no matter how confidently Mei identified her, I couldn’t believe that right now; I didn’t want to believe her.

But there was no hesitation on Mei’s face as she looked at Izumi, and when she pointed, her finger didn’t so much as quiver.

“What…what’s this about?”

Her face stiffened even more. Her lips tightened into a grimace. As if she understood what Mei was saying but couldn’t possibly accept it.

“What do you…? N-no, it can’t be…”

Her wide, almond-shaped eyes wavered. They darted back and forth unsteadily. As if it was all she could do to stand there perplexed, struggling to respond.

Izumi knew about the mysterious “power” that Mei’s “doll’s eye” possessed. I had told her about it when I’d borrowed the photograph in order to explain why I needed it.

So she… No, but she couldn’t have expected this when she decided to follow me, even in her wildest dreams. That we would identify her as the “casualty.”

Of course, the surprise and confusion that I was reeling from must have been nothing compared to what Izumi was going through.

“Miss Akazawa?” Mei opened her mouth. “I know that you don’t actually feel this way at all, but listen—you are this year’s ‘extra person,’” she asserted, finally lowering her right hand.

“I don’t know when it happened, but at some point in the past, you were one of the ‘related individuals’ who died because of the ‘calamity.’ The ‘phenomenon’ resurrected you, and you joined the class this past April…and you’re here now. As the ‘casualty,’ appearing no different than when you were alive,” Mei informed her, stiff voice free of emotion.

“You’re kidding, right?” cried Izumi, almost laughing. But her expression didn’t soften at all. “No way. I’m not the ‘casualty.’ Look here, I’m perfectly alive. I’m breathing. My heart is beating…”

“‘Casualties’ resurrected by the ‘phenomenon’ are indistinguishable from the ‘living.’ They breathe just like everyone else, and their bodies are warm. If you cut them, they bleed. But you’ve heard all that already, right?”

“They were altered to make things consistent,” Mei replied dispassionately. Her face, like her voice, was dispassionate. She looked cold.

Izumi held her tongue, then turned her bewildered eyes on me. “Hey, Sou. Say something…”

Just at that moment, the phone in my hand, which Izumi had handed to me earlier, began to vibrate. Flustered, I looked at the display and saw it showing the name “Sayuri.”

“Ah, Sou!”

The moment I picked up, Auntie Sayuri’s voice came bursting into my ear. “Izumi must have found you.”

“Yes.”

“Something awful’s happened!” she cried without pausing. “Grandpa has…Sou, your grandfather has…”

“I heard,” I answered while trying to keep my emotions in check as best I could. “I heard there was an accident and that he’s badly injured.”

“Actually…just now, he…”

“Did he die?”

“By the time they got him to the hospital, he was already beyond help.”

I grasped my cell phone tightly, overcome by surprise and horror, and whispered, “It can’t be…”

Sayuri broke down. “Why did that tree suddenly fall over…? And why did it have to fall on his room of all places? It broke through the window and struck him on the head while he was sleeping…”

Ksh-ksh. Static crackled on the line. As if something was jeering at us. Ssh-ssh-ssh, ksh-ksh-ksh-ksh… The noise drowned out Sayuri’s voice, and then the signal cut out.

“That was from Auntie Sayuri,” I told Izumi, still gripping my phone. “Grandpa’s dead.”

“…………”

“This must be the ‘calamity,’ too, right?”

But at that moment, another revelation passed through my mind of its own accord.

Now that our grandfather had passed away, a great number of relatives were likely to gather for his wake and funeral. More than a few people who lived outside of Yomiyama would attend. Should circumstances permit, Izumi’s older brother, Souta, might even return home from Germany. Maybe even…that’s right, the former wife of Hiromune’s third son, Fuyuhiko, might even show up—Tsukiho.

If we didn’t do something, all those people would come to Yomiyama in the near future and risk falling victim to the “calamity”…

…I can’t let that happen!

My voice echoed through my head.

No more, this can’t go on…

Shoving my cell phone into my pants pocket, I looked back and forth between Izumi and Mei.

Surprise, bewilderment, and extreme confusion—Izumi was surely feeling more than I could imagine. Panic flashed in her wide-open eyes. She pursed her lips and shook her head. Slightly but strongly.

Opposite to her, Mei’s blank expression remained unbroken. Silently, coldly, she scrutinized Izumi with both eyes, her own and the “doll’s eye.” She took one, two steps forward until she was standing beside me.

“I can see the ‘color of death,’ so…” She threw out the same statement as before, this time in Izumi’s direction. “Akazawa, you ‘belong on the other side.’”

“Stop it!” Izumi shouted. “Am I supposed to believe that’s true all of a sudden, just because you say so? Telling me that out of nowhere…get real, Misaki.” She turned to look at me. “Come on…Sou?”

I was still entirely lost. “I…can’t believe it…,” I mumbled.

Mei’s answer was different.

…And so?

I examined Mei’s face.

And so, in order to stop any further “accidents” from happening, we need to return the “casualty,” return Izumi to…

“Sou!” Izumi shouted again. “Say something! I’m your cousin; we’ve been close since way back, right? Since before you moved into the apartment building in April…”

“…Aah…”

I certainly had those memories. But there was the undeniable possibility that they were false memories, planted by the “phenomenon.” That was the “world” we were in now.

…Thud.

I examined Izumi’s face again.

On top of her increasing panic, there was now a shade of anger permeating her expression as well. But that must have gone hand in hand with “fear”… As I considered that, suddenly—

“Are you Izumi?”

I recalled a voice that was quietly suspicious or perhaps confused. The voice of my grandfather, Hiromune.

“But you’re…”

Indeed, this was a memory from the night before last. When Izumi had come to visit the Akazawa house and the two of us had gone into our grandfather’s room.

It was almost like he hadn’t been able to focus on his granddaughter. I’d chalked that up to my imagination then, but his eyes had definitely looked cloudy.

“How are you still…?”

What an unusual way to react to a visit from a granddaughter. Strange and unnatural. That’s what I had thought at the time—and now, even more so. The man hadn’t seen his granddaughter in a while, and the first thing he asked was, “Why are you here?” It had struck me as awfully cold.

“Why are you here?”

Our grandfather had asked her that. As for what he meant by it…

He’d been bedridden for some time and had started showing signs of cognitive degeneration. Because of that, perhaps the alteration of memory caused by the “phenomenon” hadn’t taken sufficient hold of his mind. It was certainly possible.

“Why are you here?”

If those words had been a simple expression of disbelief at the fact that Izumi, the granddaughter who he was sure had already died, was standing there before his eyes, then…no…

But that alone didn’t amount to proof that she was the “casualty.” As long as we were in a world where we knew memories and records were being altered, then wasn’t it actually impossible to find any kind of proof that would let us determine whether or not it was “true”…?

…Thud.

…Huh?

What?

What was that? Just now, suddenly…

…Thud.

“Hey! Sou!”

Izumi’s voice. She sounded confused, angry, and scared. Like someone who was being ignored, treated as if she didn’t exist.

“Sou.” Mei called my name quietly. “You remember, right? You remember what you heard from Sakakibara on the phone. About what we have to do in order to stop the ‘calamity’?”

Ah…of course. I remember. I do. But…

But nevertheless, I couldn’t bring myself to answer right away.

I could feel the whole dusky, gloomy atmosphere icing over. My mind and body were frozen, too; I couldn’t get a single word out, much less move… For some reason, the shrieking of unknown creatures sounded in my ears. Countless shrill screams. I knew I couldn’t actually hear them—that would be impossible. And yet, they seemed to me like the voices of the dolls that inhabited this gallery…

17

She moved swiftly.

Without a word, Mei headed for the table that was pushed up alongside the wall beside the door. Once there, she picked up one of the tools that had been dumped there.

It looks like a hammer—no, a nail puller.

Don’t tell me…

She’s going to use that? Right here, right now?

“Mei…”

By the time I had wrung my voice out of my parched, raspy throat, she had already raised the nail puller overhead and leaped at Izumi.

My cousin’s scream echoed through the gallery, overlapping with the shrieks of the dolls. “Wh-what are you doing?! You can’t!”

Mei swung her right hand downward. Izumi dodged, but not completely, and the pointed tip of the nail puller grazed her shoulder… The impact pushed her off balance, and she went down to the floor on a knee.

“Stop it…Mei!”

“Return the ‘casualty’ to ‘death,’” Mei answered coolly. “There is no other way to stop the ‘calamity.’”

“Stop!” Izumi pleaded fervently. “I haven’t…I haven’t done anything!”

“You’re right. You haven’t done anything. You are simply the ‘casualty.’ But many people have already died from this iteration of the ‘calamity.’ And if we don’t do something, countless more will…”

“That’s not my fault!”

“It’s not your fault.” Mei re-gripped the nail puller. “It’s no one’s fault. The ‘phenomenon’ has simply taken this form, that’s all. And that’s why…you see, Miss Akazawa?”

Mei swung her right hand down again. Still on one knee, Izumi crossed both arms above her head to block the blow.

“Believe Mei’s ‘eye’”—that’s what Koichi Sakakibara had told me—“no matter what truths it might reveal, even if you can’t accept them or don’t want to…”

That’s what he’d said. But—

“Please stop. This is…”

In the end, I couldn’t sit back and watch.

I didn’t know what I believed, or what I should believe, in this situation. I didn’t know what to do. It was clear in my head, but in my heart…

Mei stopped moving and looked back at me. Her eye was full of sadness, just like earlier.

Seizing the opportunity, Izumi leaped to her feet. By the time Mei turned back around, she had taken off in a mad dash, aiming for the front entrance.

The door opened, and Izumi darted out. Mei gave chase. I ran outside, following Mei.

18

The rain had slowed to a drizzle. The strong wind from earlier had also mostly settled down. Still, there wasn’t a single person to be seen on the road. Although it wasn’t that late in the evening yet, the town was weirdly quiet…

Izumi was sprinting, and Mei was pursuing her. And I was chasing after them both. Fighting through the pain in my left knee, I ran with all my effort. From time to time, a big raindrop would form suddenly and hit me in the face. Occasionally, the wind kicked up, bringing with it the low rumble of distant thunder.

The mayhem inside my mind continued.

Mei had moved on her own to solve the problem.

And I had prevented her from doing so.

What do I believe? What should I believe? What should I do? There’s no way to know the right answer…

Koichi’s words from our phone call repeatedly rang in my ears.

“Return the ‘casualty’ to ‘death’… Don’t hesitate, just act.

“Believe her and…”

Does this mean I don’t fully believe her? I don’t trust Mei—or the “power” of her “doll’s eye”? Or maybe I…

…Thud.

Meanwhile, I felt a strange sensation, one that I had felt somewhere before.

…Thud.

What could that be?

It was a low, faint reverberation, outside the range of my hearing.

I think I’ve experienced this sensation before. But when did I? And where?

I mulled it over, but my efforts were fruitless…

…As we emerged onto the path running along the bank of the Yomiyama River, I closed the distance between myself and Mei considerably. The path was dark, lined with sparse streetlamps.

The back of her indigo-blue shirt was just two or three meters ahead of me. A little farther ahead, I could make out the back of Izumi’s white raincoat… I was keeping a steady eye on her when—

Something happened to Izumi. She let out a short shriek. Maybe she’d slipped or lost her footing. Either way, she fell.

Mei slowed to a walk. The nail puller from earlier was still in her right hand. There was no change in her determination. She was going to use the tool right here; she was going to…

“Mei!” I shouted. “Stop!”

But without so much as looking back, she raised her implement high above her head, then swung it back down.

I heard a hard crunch. Izumi must have scrambled to her feet and dodged the attack, leaving the nail puller to hit the surface of the road where it had whiffed its target.

“Sou?” She looked me in the face. As expected, there was a terrible sadness in her eyes.

“It’s not my fault,” Izumi reasoned in a trembling voice once she stood back up. “It’s not my…”

At that moment, a gust of wind blew against us from the riverside, and at almost the same time, a bolt of lightning streaked across the night sky. When it did, as if in sync with the sudden flash of light—

…Thud.

—the strange sensation came over me again.

…Thud.

Along with the low, faint reverberation, a certain scene suddenly surfaced in my mind. It had absolutely no logical connection to the situation I was faced with now…

…A door.

I see a lone door.

It was the entrance to an apartment in the Freuden Tobii. The unit number on the plate beside the door was <E-1>. Like mine, this room was also on the fifth floor, on the opposite side of the elevator lobby.

Is this it? Is this the apartment? Hadn’t that question flashed through my mind back then?

This is… Yes, I’m sure this is a fragment of my memory. Back then means at the beginning of April, early morning on the day of the opening ceremony.

…Thud.

…Desks and chairs.

I can see neat rows of desks and chairs. A blackboard with nothing written on it. One fluorescent light, flickering unstably. This is—

The Grade 3 Class 3 classroom on the third floor of Building C. This is… Yes, this is also from that day at the beginning of April, after the opening ceremony was over.

The students were present, but no one had made a move to take their seats. Not even to place a bag down on their desks.

One of the girls spoke up. In a sharp, crisp voice that was well articulated…and when I heard it—

Is that…? Who owns that voice?

Hadn’t I felt a moment of doubt back then?

That doubt disappeared from my mind a moment later. That uncomfortable feeling just…

…Thud.

Ah…why?

Why is this scene coming up now?

Why are these memories playing back……?

Izumi was staring at me. Her hair had gotten completely soaked by the rain, and her raincoat was filthy with mud.

“It’s not my fault.”

Her pleading voice sounded weaker than before. When I stared at her face, I saw that some kind of change had come over her…

Maybe…

That’s when a thought struck me.

It was a wild idea that bordered on delusion. But perhaps something had reached Izumi’s heart just now, something akin to the strange sensation that I’d experienced when the sudden flash of lightning had dazzled me…

I took a step toward her. When I opened my mouth to speak, she slowly shook her head.

“It’s not me,” she insisted meekly in an even weaker voice than before. With that, she promptly turned on her heel and took off down the riverside path.

Mei was about to go chasing after Izumi again, but I steadied myself and addressed her. “I’m sorry that you weren’t able to do what needed to be done. But, Mei, your job here is over…”

She tilted her head slightly, suspicious.

“Sou?”

“It’s confirmed. You can see the ‘color of death’ on her—on Izumi Akazawa. There’s no mistaking it, right? She is the ‘casualty,’ isn’t she?”

“All right.” I nodded firmly. “I’ll do the rest. I’ll chase her down with everything I’ve got, and… I know what I have to do. You can go, Mei…”

19

Bolts of lightning crossed the sky several more times as I tore down the riverside path in pursuit of Izumi. With each flash, various scenes surfaced in my mind before they disappeared. They were all fragments of memories related to events I had experienced after April of this year. And the common thread among them was that they all had something to do with Izumi…

…For example—

That time, when I’d gone to the secondary library at the start of May to talk to Mr. Chibiki. While I was there, Yagisawa and Izumi appeared, and when the two of them greeted him, he’d reacted strangely to my cousin.

I recalled my momentary discomfort that time.

…For example—

Another time, when I’d stopped by the “Blue Eyes…” gallery on my way home from the hospital at the beginning of May and talked to Mei in the basement. Izumi had happened to catch sight of me outside. After that, she’d followed me in and encountered Mei for the first time. I remembered Mei’s reaction that time, as well as my momentary discomfort again.

I had no idea what it all meant, why it was coming back to me now. These moments seemed to have no obvious connection.

But they filled my mind regardless.

It was as though a strong and supple shell of “lies” was wrapped around this “world.” Here and there, microscopic holes were opening in the barrier, allowing the light of “truth” to shine in from outside. These beams were projecting scenes inside my brain.

If I had to put it in a different way, it would be like this:

The “casualty” for this school year was Izumi Akazawa—at this point, I was finally able to recognize that cruel reality.

Eventually, I caught up to her. She was just about to cross the bridge that spanned the Yomiyama River. The one for pedestrians—the Izana Bridge.

Izumi was standing in the middle of it with both hands on one of the handrails, bent over at the waist. Her shoulders and back were heaving violently up and down. She looked like she might collapse at any moment.

She noticed me standing there and straightened up slowly.

“Look over here,” I said. “Show me your face…”

While we were running, the rain had started picking up. Atop the bridge, the wind was also blowing hard. And beneath it, the Yomiyama River was flowing fiercely, swollen with rainwater.

I wasn’t sure that Izumi could hear me over the cacophony.

Lightning streaked across the sky, follow by a quick flash of bright white light.

…Thud.

Another scene came to mind.

…Thud.

…Unit <E-1> in the Freuden Tobii. The grand piano set up in the soundproofed room. I could see Izumi’s figure, seated on the bench, her fingers splayed out across the keyboard.

This was that time at the end of June. That evening when she had played Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” to mourn those who had died.

As I was listening to her performance, I had backed into the window curtain and suddenly smelled something that was a little off…and for a moment, I had somehow gotten the feeling that I had stepped foot into a place that people had not inhabited for quite some time. I remembered my discomfort back then.

“You didn’t notice? One of the keys wasn’t playing the right note.”

“It’s way out of tune.”

A key that wouldn’t play. A piano out of tune. Which means…

Izumi lifted her face.

I beheld the expression she had on now and thought that maybe, by some chance, she was seeing the same vision in her mind. Which might have been why she was…

Rain and tears were streaking down Izumi’s face. Confusion and anger and fear played out over it.

Ah, what is this…?

“Sou.” Someone called my name from behind my back. It was Mei’s voice. Despite the fact that I had pleaded with her to leave the rest to me, in the end, she must have followed me.

“Sou.” She called my name again. “Sou…don’t waver. Don’t doubt yourself. Believe me, cast aside any hesitation, and act…”

Argh, I get it!

I already know that perfectly well.

I took a step toward Izumi. But even though she watched me do it, she didn’t move from that spot. She just shook her head weakly, still looking at me.

I took another step. When I did—

With one hand still on the handrail, Izumi turned so that her back was to the railing—facing upstream. Then she let go.

As I got even closer to her, I raised my own hands up to about chest height. I think I had made up my mind about how I was going to move from there.

If I get right up beside her and push her off the bridge…

If I do that, no matter how strong a swimmer she is, there’s no way she could survive the river’s furious, muddy current. If she drops, her death is almost guaranteed…and so…

It wasn’t clear whether Izumi could tell what I was planning. She stood in the same spot, not moving an inch, waiting for me to come to her. And then—

I decided to act.

I charged at her with all my might, aiming both hands at her shoulders.

However, just before I made contact, Izumi’s body flopped backward, pivoting over the handrail, turning again and again as she flew through the air. She fell right under the bridge.

As shocked as I was, I rushed to the handrail and peered over into the river. Mei followed my lead. But by that time, Izumi’s body had already been swallowed up by the violent, muddy water…

Thud.

Outside this world, someone clicked a shutter. For a moment, it felt like we were enveloped in absolute darkness.

The evening of Wednesday, July 5 was a turning point.

After that date, “Izumi Akazawa,” who had existed as a “student in Grade 3 Class 3 at North Yomiyama Middle School” from April of that year, disappeared from the memories of everyone except for Mei Misaki and myself, the two people who’d participated in her “death.”

But now there’s one more empty seat besides those four.

Whose seat is it?

Nobody knows. Nobody is absent besides Makise and Hazumi, but that seat’s still empty. That didn’t happen before. Weird, right?

…………

So people figure that desk has to belong to the “extra person,” to the “casualty.” They went away, so the seat that was added at the beginning of April for them is now unoccupied.

…………

The disappearance of the “casualty” must mean that the “phenomenon” is over, right? Which means the “accidents” are, too…

Really?

I hope so. The countermeasures officers and the teachers are discussing it as we speak.

……The “calamity” is over, so we don’t need to worry about anything anymore.

Really?

Mm.

I heard that none of the “countermeasures” really worked…

It’s all right now.

But how did that happen? I haven’t heard anything from anyone in the class.

A report is coming soon.

…………

So listen, you don’t have to be afraid. Don’t be so timid, okay?

But I…

This has dragged on for an awfully long time, so I think it’s only natural to be a little hesitant, but…

You know, sometimes I have this thought. Well, it’s less of a thought and more like, how do I say this…like something I’ve become aware of.

Aware of what?

No way. That could never…

Or, if time’s not standing still, then we’re circling around to the same places. Endlessly circling back on ourselves so that we’re trapped here for the rest of time…

I understand you feel that way, but it’s all right now. Time is moving forward like it should. You’re not stuck here or anywhere.

But…but listen, maybe I already…

…………

…Ah, sorry for whining like this again.

I don’t mind listening to you complain a bit. You don’t have to act brave all the time. But listen, I’m sure you’re gonna be all right.

Thanks.

I’ll come back again later, okay?

Ah, yeah. Thanks.

“I’ve got ice cream—would you like some?”

“Oh, sure!”

“Wait a minute, okay? You’ve been hard at work, so I’ll make you my special parfaits.”

When the month started, I had expected to be able to move back to the Akazawa house by the beginning of summer break, after the remodeling finished up. However, on the evening of the 5th, there was the incident with the tree in the garden and the death of my grandfather Hiromune. It had taken a long time to repair the ruined sitting room and torn-up garden, delaying my plans to move back.

Haruhiko and Sayuri had asked me to wait until that work was finished before moving back. Natsuhiko and Mayuko over at the Freuden Tobii had also said that as long as I was all right with it, I could remain there for several more months. But as grateful as I was, a feeling had been growing inside me that told me I shouldn’t remain there any longer than I had to. So I’d pushed the issue with Uncle Haruhiko and Auntie Sayuri and gone ahead with the move.

As long as I was in the room in the Freuden Tobii, it didn’t matter what I did; I kept remembering her—Izumi Akazawa, who no longer existed in the “present” in this world. And they weren’t just memories. My mind kept producing visions of things that shouldn’t be there. That was sad and scary…

After drinking my cider in one big gulp, I left Yagisawa behind in the living room for a moment. I soon returned, carrying a bag that I had tossed into my room along with the moving boxes.

“Hey, so here.” I set the thing that I’d pulled out of the bag in front of Yagisawa. It was a miniature album that I had filled with the photos from a single roll of film.

“Hmm?” Yagisawa seemed slightly confused, but once he looked inside, he mumbled, “Ah, from that time,” and stroked his scraggly beard.

The album started with some two-person shots of Yagisawa and me, then Izumi and me, several of each in a row. Next came solo shots of each of us and then several group shots of Yagisawa, Izumi, and me from when I had gotten Ms. Kanbayashi to use up the rest of the roll. However—

“These are the commemorative photos of the two of us from that day, huh? Hmm. I guess we didn’t capture any of the lotus pond hands?” Yagisawa spoke very naturally as he turned the pages of the album. “Just how many of these did we ask Ms. Kanbayashi to take?”

Ah…I thought so.

Although his response was what I’d expected, I shook my head, feeling like it was too much to handle.

As I suspected, Yagisawa couldn’t see Izumi in the photos. The only people pictured were him and me. As far as he was aware, at the photo shoot that day, there hadn’t been three people, only the two of us. When Izumi, the “extra person,” disappeared, every memory of everything having to do with her had been rewritten, for the sake of consistency.

“What’s up, Sou?” Yagisawa was looking at me quizzically. “Why do you look like…? Oh! Could that be it? Do these pictures actually show that girl you mentioned—your cousin Izumi Akazawa or something?”

“Yeah,” I answered with a sigh, “good guess.”

“I can sort of tell.”

“You can tell, like, intellectually?”

“Sort of. Can you see her? In these photos, I mean.”

“Yeah.”

I sat down next to Yagisawa, picked up the album, and opened it again with my own hands.

“The first pictures of us weren’t taken by Ms. Kanbayashi; Izumi took them for us. And the next ones were two-person shots of her and me that you took, but…you can’t see her, right?”

“Right. I only see you by yourself, Sou.”

“That’s where she’s standing.” I informed him of what I could see with my very eyes. “We only got our teacher to take the last few. They’re pictures of the three of us lined up together. Izumi’s in the middle, and you and I are standing on either side. You can’t see that, either, can you?”

“You and I are the only ones in the picture…but there is an awful lot of space between us, isn’t there? Unnaturally so. And the one before that, with no one in it, that one, too?”

“Mm.”

“I see. Is that so…?” Even though he was nodding, Yagisawa had a confused look on his face. “So you can really see her, for real?”

Izumi was there in the center of the photograph, standing between Yagisawa and me, dressed for summer and smiling cheerfully. I didn’t know how she had felt at heart, whether she had actually been happy or how happy she had been. She’d had no idea that the very next night, she would learn that she was the “casualty”…

“I can see her. I can still see her,” I answered and placed the album on the table. “It’s because I was at the scene that night. I’m sure that’s the reason why.”

Right. I can still see her. But at some point, it’ll happen to me, too—there will come a time when I won’t be able to see Izumi, either.

“Hmm.” Yagisawa hummed again. He looked confused. He took off his glasses and used his towel to scrub the area around his eyes dry. “But you know, no matter how you explain it, it doesn’t feel real at all. I don’t mean to say that I don’t believe you, but, how can I put this, um, it sounds like you got bewitched by a fox or something, you know?”

But as for the details of Izumi’s “death” on the night of the 5th, how, after we’d told her that she was the “casualty,” she, in her confusion, had fallen from the Izana Bridge into the Yomiyama River…that was the only thing I didn’t tell him. Honestly, I didn’t want to talk about it at length, and I didn’t feel like it was something I should really tell anyone anyway.

Yagisawa hadn’t asked for too many details. His memory had already been rewritten after the disappearance of the “extra person,” so from his perspective, my story didn’t fit with “reality” very well. It must have sounded ludicrous.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Here you go—please eat up!”

Before long, Auntie Sayuri brought in some extravagant handmade parfaits that lived up to their reputation. Her eyes stopped on the album on the table.

“Oh, photographs?”

She peered over our shoulders at the last page of the album, which was sitting open where we had left it.

“You took them at school, I see. Recently?”

Auntie Sayuri was of course in the same situation as Yagisawa. She could see only the two of us in the photos. Izumi was invisible to her.

That’s consistent, I thought.

Sayuri already knew “Izumi Akazawa” as her “poor niece who died three years ago” and nothing more.

2

The evening of July 5, after Izumi had been swallowed up by the muddy waters of the Yomiyama River—

The first confirmation I got that “Izumi Akazawa” had vanished from this world was on a phone call to Auntie Sayuri.

She had sounded like she’d regained her composure considerably.

“Mayuko and her husband are also at the hospital now. Sou, you don’t need to come here tonight. I think we’ll be able to bring Grandpa home tomorrow.”

When I had heard that much, I’d blurted out, “Um, listen, Auntie. Izumi just…”

I had stopped before saying anything more.

There was no way I could have said what I had been about to say. Even if I had said it, it probably wouldn’t have made a bit of sense. I knew that was the case, but I was driven by the feeling that I had to say something about Izumi after what had just happened. However—

“Izumi…?” Auntie Sayuri had sounded slightly surprised or maybe bewildered. There had been a short silence. During the pause, I’d wondered how Sayuri was processing my words in her mind.

“When Izumi passed away, you were still in Hinami, Sou. Even though you were cousins, you never had a chance to meet except when you were babies.”

The tone of Sayuri’s voice had changed a little, and it wavered with a quiet sadness. That’s how it had seemed to me.

“She passed away three years ago this summer, but after that, you came to stay with us… Grandpa seemed happy about that. I’m sure he was glad to have one of his grandchildren nearby…”

The following afternoon, on the 6th, the body of my grandfather had been returned to the Akazawa house. The corpse was temporarily installed in a large room that had just been converted from tatami mats to conventional flooring during the renovations, and it was there that I saw my grandfather’s dead face. The moody expression he’d worn in life had been nowhere to be seen, and as the saying goes, he’d looked to be resting in some kind of peace. I remember feeling not so much sad as having a strange sensation like my head was going kind of numb.

I had caught sight of the black cat, Kurosuke, in the hall outside the big room. He must have sensed somehow that the atmosphere in the house was not normal, because he had been pacing restlessly up and down the hallway. Sometimes he would stop and give a long cry in a feeble voice.

As I sat there watching him, I’d suddenly remembered something.

I’d remembered what had happened on the evening of the 3rd, when Izumi and I had gone to visit Grandpa, just the two of us.

While we were there, Kurosuke had scratched Izumi’s hand, deep enough to break the skin. At the time, I had wondered why he would suddenly do something like that, despite being normally quite attached to Izumi.

What was that…?

The moment was long past, but I remember thinking it over anyway. Kurosuke had been at the house for many years before I showed up. He had known Izumi, who lived just nearby, for a long time, since he was a kitten, and it was only natural that he would have gotten very close with her.

But three years earlier, Izumi had died. And then, that spring, she had reappeared. Kurosuke had remembered Izumi, even though there had been a three-year gap, so he’d cozied up to her as always.

However, perhaps Kurosuke had secretly sensed that something was off—that there was something wrong with this Izumi, that she was somehow different than before. Perhaps that’s what had caused his sudden confusion that night.

I suppose that cats might have a special intuition that humans lack? No…maybe it’s that the “memory alteration” caused by the “phenomenon” doesn’t work on nonhuman creatures, so…

3

“Miss Akazawa was a classmate of mine in Grade 3 Class 3 three years ago.”

It was the day after my grandfather’s return when I had heard that line from Mei Misaki—the afternoon of Saturday the 7th.

“She was a countermeasures officer three years ago, too. And she became the female class rep after Sakuragi died in May…”

Mei had invited me upstairs in her house in Misaki. The gallery had been undergoing an interior redesign at the time. I’d visited the third floor many times before; it was still the same spacious living and dining area that never really felt like a home.

Mei and I had sat facing each other across a low glass-top table.

“The night before last, after Miss Akazawa fell from the bridge, my real memories gradually came back to me. They were shrouded in a thick fog this whole time, but it was like I wasn’t even aware of the fog itself… Then the fog began to thin, and I could see things that had been hidden—that’s what it felt like.”

Mei had been wearing a short-sleeve white blouse. Unlike the previous time I’d seen her, she hadn’t been wearing her “doll’s eye” in her left eye, so she hadn’t had her eye patch on, either.

“I went to sleep that night, and when I woke up, I remembered pretty much everything. All my memories seemed absolutely normal, and I had no sense of unease. I think I felt like this three years ago, too, after the ‘casualty’ disappeared, though my memories of that time are a little fuzzy now.” Mei had spoken quietly, staring at a point in space above the table. “How about you, Sou?”

“She died during the class trip in August, right? One of the victims of the ‘calamity’ that year.”

“That’s right. But starting in April, my memory of it completely…”

“Vanished. It was altered. It wasn’t just the two of us—it happened to the memories of all the people connected to her.”

“And the physical records were altered, too, right? Like the class roster and photographs. And Mr. Chibiki’s file.”

“All our original memories of Miss Akazawa were altered, yes. In their place, the ‘fact’ that ‘Miss Akazawa exists as a member of this year’s Grade 3 Class 3’ was put into the record, to keep things consistent…”

“And into our memories.”

“Right.”

Several scenes had been restored in my mind, instances that had completely vanished from my memory until two days earlier, when they’d all come back to me completely.

For example—

On April 9. The morning of the opening ceremony.

I had left my apartment and headed for the elevator lobby, where I’d looked at the door of unit <E-1> across the hall.

Now, what was this room? The question had flicked through my mind as I’d stared at the door with some confusion… But almost immediately, it had occurred to me that the room belonged to my cousin, Izumi Akazawa; that she was the same age as I was; and that she’d been living alone for a while. My memories had been altered to conform to this new “false reality.”

It must have been just that morning when Izumi made her “appearance” as the “extra person” in Grade 3 Class 3. Up until the night before, she hadn’t existed in this world, and <E-1> had been an empty apartment with no one living in it.

And then, that same day, in the classroom after the opening ceremony—

The same thing must have happened to the memories of everyone in that classroom that day.

“Thinking back on it now,” I had said, talking to myself as much as Mei, “there were a number of things that felt kind of strange but otherwise seemed fine at the time.”

“Like what?” Mei had asked.

“Ummm…” I’d faltered briefly, then said, “Izumi…Miss Akazawa, she was in the drama club, and she said something to me about quitting to make room for the younger generation once she started third grade. But that girl Hazumi…”

“The girl who took on the role of the ‘second non-exister,’ right?”

“Right. She was also in the drama club until last year and told me she had quit going. If they were in the same club, then the two of them should have been acquainted with each other, right? And yet…”

At the beginning of the semester, Izumi said that she’d never met Hazumi before the third grade, that it was her first time speaking to her. I wonder why I didn’t find that suspicious at the time. Maybe something was keeping that from happening.

“There’s something else I’d like to confirm with you, Mei. Do you remember when you first met Izumi in your basement here? I stopped by on my way home from the hospital, and she followed me in…”

Mei had closed her eyes softly and nodded. “Yes. It was around the start of June, right?”

“I do remember. Now I do.” Mei had opened her eyes and answered, “When I saw Miss Akazawa’s face, I think I must have realized I had met her somewhere before. But I only felt like that for a second. I immediately changed my mind and decided I was imagining it…”

“…I knew it.”

That had brought back the low, reverberating thud in my head, but at the time, I had smoothly brushed it off.

If I remember right, when they first met, Izumi looked at Mei with surprise and confusion. Was that…was it because Izumi had the same sensation as Mei?

I wonder if the “casualty” can remember anything from when they were alive, even if it contradicts the alterations made to the “present”…?

I hadn’t been able to shake that troubling thought.

“Three years ago”—I’d continued with my questions—“when you and Izumi were in the same class, what kind of…? Ummm, were you friends? What kind of person was she?”

Mei had tilted her head slightly, looking uncomfortable, and gone silent for a while. As I was starting to worry that I had asked a bad question, Mei had finally answered in her usual detached tone of voice.

“I didn’t have any friends.” A sad, lonely smile had spread fleetingly across her lips. “So I have no idea what kind of person she was.”

“Ah…okay.”

“But listen, Sou.”

“Yes?”

“Even though she was resurrected by the ‘phenomenon,’ her basic personality and other traits shouldn’t have changed that much, so…”

At that point, Mei had stared directly into my face and said, “So, you know, I’m sure that Miss Akazawa was exactly the sort of person you felt her to be, while you were interacting with her these past three months.”

My grandfather Hiromune’s wake was held on Sunday the 8th, and his funeral was Monday the 9th—that’s what had been decided during the discussions on the 6th. I hadn’t been privy to all the exact details. In any case, because of the scheduling, I’d had the whole day on the 7th free. Feeling very restless, I had reached out to Mei. As the only two people in the world who knew the “truth,” I had wanted to get together to talk and confirm all the “facts.” I had also wanted to ask her opinion on what I was supposed to do next.

Two days had gone by since the stormy night when “Izumi Akazawa” had disappeared, and the weather had fully recovered. The sky was clear and blue, without a single bit of cloud floating in it. But in my heart, I’d still felt as if the furious rain and wind continued to simmer and rage.

“What about Tsukiho?” Mei had asked. “Is she coming for your grandfather’s wake and funeral?”

“Who knows?” That was the best answer I’d been able to come up with. “She hasn’t said anything, and I haven’t contacted her.”

“Your aunt and uncle have probably told her.”

“Probably. But I haven’t said anything…”

“Don’t come to Yomiyama.

“Don’t ever come here!”

The last thing I’d said to Tsukiho on the phone, at the end of June.

“Listen to me. I never want to see your face again. I don’t want to spend time with you, and I don’t want to hear your voice.

“I hate you!”

I honestly had no regrets about saying those things. Even if it means I never see her again, that’s okay with me. That would be just fine.

Rather than worrying about anything to do with Tsukiho, my thoughts at the time had been consumed by Izumi, who no longer existed in our world. I had only actually known her for three months, my close cousin. The “world” had returned to the way it was supposed to be after she was gone. But to me, it all felt like something was terribly wrong…

“That’s right.” Mei had nodded slightly but decisively. “There’s nothing more to worry about.”

“My Akazawa aunts and uncles don’t seem to remember anything about the ‘Izumi Akazawa’ who showed up this year, so their memories are totally back to normal. Same goes for Yagisawa and Ms. Kanbayashi, who called to check up on me yesterday.”

“You and I are the only ones who remember both versions of Miss Akazawa, from three years ago and from this year, Sou.”

“Seems that way.”

“It’s the cruel privilege granted to people involved with the disappearance of the ‘casualty.’”

“The cruel…?”

“But you know, sooner or later, we’re going to forget, too. No matter how much you try not to, it’ll happen eventually.”

Mei had leaned back against the sofa and let out a short sigh. She’d fixed her gaze on that spot in the air above the table again. To me, it seemed like she had discovered a tear in the fabric of time that would connect us to the past, right in that spot.

After that, there had been another brief silence.

“Um…so,” I’d spoken up, “how do you think I should tell the rest of my class that the ‘calamity’ is over?”

It was a question I had been struggling with since the previous day. I hadn’t even said anything to Yagisawa yet, even when he’d called me.

“Like, should I explain the situation during homeroom or something? But I wonder if everyone will understand if I do that?”

Of course, I had no intention of talking about the “power” of Mei’s “doll’s eye” or about the specifics of what had happened that night, even if I did tell them. So then, when it came to how I ought to explain the “circumstances,” I just couldn’t see a way forward.

“That’s certainly true, but…but…”

“But?”

“I keep thinking about everyone’s feelings, not knowing that the ‘calamity’ is over. And we’re going into summer vacation, too. Surely it would be better if everyone could start their summer break with a little peace of mind.”

“I see,” Mei had mumbled, removing her finger from her temple. “Everyone, huh?” she’d mumbled again before blinking slowly several times and then looking me right in the eye.

“You’re very thoughtful, Sou.”

“No, not really…”

“At any rate, no new ‘accidents’ are going to happen, so it’s up to you what you do. You don’t have to do anything, but you can if you want.”

Think for yourself and decide.

So that’s what she’s telling me?

That’s what I had understood her to mean, and I’d nodded wordlessly.

Then a voice had come from the door of the room. “Oh, welcome, Sou.”

Kirika’s voice—I’d recognized it right away.

“It’s terrible what happened at the Akazawa house. I heard about your grandfather’s passing.” When I stood up, Kirika had come closer to me, frowning with concern. “Is it all right for you to be over here today?”

“The wake is tomorrow. Even if I was at the house now, there would be nothing I could do.”

“I see. I fixed the chain on your bicycle downstairs.”

“Oh, thank you very much.”

During the day, she usually shut herself up in the studio on the second floor, immersing herself in her work. In her atelier, she exclusively dressed in casual clothing, plain shirts and jeans. She also often had a bandanna wound around her head, and that was the case when she came in that day.

“It’s been several months since I’ve seen you, hasn’t it, Sou? I hear things from Mei sometimes.”

Kirika had always behaved very cheerfully and gently toward me whenever we’d met. I had often sensed a slight affection as well.

The Misaki family has been friendly with the Hiratsuka family for quite some time, so she must know all about my circumstances, the fact that I was driven out of that house… Actually, it’s probably exactly because she knows that she’s so kind to me.

“Sou, would you like to eat dinner here before you go home? We can get something delivered.”

“Oh, no, that’s…”

“Please, it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

“It’s not, but that’s…”

During this exchange, Mei had been sitting on the sofa with her knees pulled up, silent. She had idly looked at the ceiling, then turned her eyes toward the window, which had its white roller curtain drawn down… Watching her out of the corner of my eye, something had suddenly started to bother me.

“Um…Kirika?” I had asked. “Have you been having some kind of health troubles lately?”

“Huh?” Kirika had tilted her head quizzically. She’d looked me directly in the face and inquired curiously, “Why do you ask that?”

“Ah, ah, um…I saw you several times at the hospital.”

“The hospital?”

“Um…s-so I thought…”

As I was stammering, Mei had stood up from the sofa. “Mother…,” she had called out to Kirika—as if to interrupt our conversation.

What’s going on all of a sudden?

“It sounds like Sou has to get going soon,” Mei had said, approaching Kirika. “But before he goes home, he wants to see the dolls, since he came all this way. Even if it’s just the ones in the basement, you said earlier…right?” She’d thrown her gaze over to me.

In her expression, I had read the message, Do as I say, and nodded, trying not to look surprised.

“Oh, is that so?”

Kirika had raised both eyebrows, puzzled, but when I’d agreed without a moment’s delay, her face had softened into a smile.

“You’ve always loved the dolls, haven’t you, Sou? That makes me happy.”

“May we go see them?”

“Of course! There are still construction workers on the first floor, so don’t get in their way, all right?”

5

In the end, Tsukiho hadn’t come to Grandpa’s wake or funeral.

I didn’t know how much of an effect it had had on her when I’d told her not to come to Yomiyama or to talk to me again. But after being left a widow by her first husband, Tsukiho had pulled away from the Akazawa family and remarried, becoming a part of the Hiratsuka family. Her relationship with my grandfather had never seemed especially close, so I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t show. And fortunately, if the Akazawas had any complaints about the situation, they never made it to my ears.

At the funeral hall, as the deceased’s grandson, I had been seated in the corner of the relatives’ section. I’d worn my school uniform, with a mourning band around my arm.

Of Auntie Sayuri’s two daughters, the younger one who lived in Okinawa (her name was Midori, and she’d changed her surname to Shukawa after marriage) had rushed to Yomiyama the day of the wake. Apparently, the older daughter, Hikari, who lived in New York, hadn’t been able to find a way to get back to Japan in time.

The day after the funeral, Mayuko’s son, Souta—Izumi’s older brother—had arrived from Germany. Mayuko had introduced me to him. That night was the first time I’d met Souta face-to-face.

“I guess I was already out of the country by the time you came to Yomiyama, huh, Sou? I probably met you when you were a baby, but… Well anyway, nice to meet you, I suppose.”

He was average height, with a slim build and brownish hair. He had a smooth, fair complexion and wore elegant rimless glasses. Souta gave off quite an intellectual air, and unlike Izumi, he wasn’t a brisk talker. He strung his words together at a slow, deliberate tempo.

“I’ve heard a few things about you from my mom, Sou. It sounds like the situation at home is pretty complicated. I hope I’m not overstepping when I say that you have my sympathy.”

“Not at all… Thank you very much.”

“Come on—you don’t need to be so stiff. We’re cousins, after all.”

Souta was twenty-five years old, Izumi’s older brother by ten years… No, Izumi’s original age was the same as Mei’s, so if she had lived, she would have been eighteen this year. That meant that she and Souta were siblings separated by seven years. I’d been borrowing the refrigerator and some books from Souta’s room. Mayuko was the one who had recommended it… That was the story now.

I had been invited up to the penthouse of the Freuden Tobii, into the living room. Mayuko had set out coffee and cake, and the coffee had tasted like that Inoya blend that Izumi had liked.

“What kind of books did you choose?” Souta had asked.

I had answered his question frankly.

“Yes, very good. It’s my first time reading a book like that.”

“I’ve got tons more interesting books, too. You can help yourself, okay?

“I wonder if this is what it would feel like to have a little brother?” Souta had suddenly mumbled between sips of his coffee. His narrow eyes had seemed somewhat lonesome, or nostalgic maybe. “If Izumi were here, I’m sure she’d be all excited.”

Souta’s words had caught me off guard. “Ah…um…” Against my better judgment, I’d asked, “Were you also in Germany when Izumi passed away?”

Souta had bitten his lip slightly. “Ah, about that. When it happened…well, back then, I just barely missed the funeral. Just like now, it happened really suddenly, so…” He’d bitten his lip a little harder. “It’s been three years since then, huh? I think you came here right after that, Sou.”

“I came at the start of September.”

“Right.”

Souta had downed the rest of his coffee, then leaned back very deeply on the sofa. Running his fingers through his hair, he’d sighed. “I wonder what she thought. About me…” He’d sounded like he was talking mostly to himself.

“Ah, um…” For some reason, I hadn’t been able to hold my tongue. “This is a strange question, but, um…did you go see Jurassic Park with Izumi a long time ago?”

“Hmm? Yeah, I think I did.” Souta had narrowed his eyes again. “How do you know something like that, Sou?”

“Well, um, I heard about it from my aunt…”

There was no way I could have told him the truth.

The first Jurassic Park movie had opened to the public, as Yagisawa had said, “a real long time ago.” Specifically, in the summer of 1993. Eight years ago. I’d gone back and checked the dates.

If any of this had occurred to me back when Izumi had told me about it, I might have realized that something strange was going on. Or maybe there had been something keeping me from realizing it.

“I heard you’ve been staying in one of our apartments since this April, Sou.”

“Yes. The main house was under renovation, so I’ve been here while that’s going on.”

“My mother and father were happy to have you. I heard all about it on the phone. I’m sure they’ve been lonely ever since Izumi passed. They’ve even left the room that she was using on the fifth floor just as it used to be. It’s great that you came to stay…”

“No, don’t thank me. I just accepted their hospitality.”

“That’s not true. Their oldest son hardly ever comes home, so I’m grateful to you, too, Sou.”

“…………”

“I’m heading back to Germany already in a few days, but if there’s anything you want to talk about, you can get in touch with me. Do you use e-mail?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, take this,” Souta had said as he handed me a business card. Then he’d crossed his hands behind his head and slowly glanced around the room with a somewhat troubled look on his face. “Honestly, even though three years have gone by since Izumi died, it still doesn’t feel real, man…”

Afterward, as I was stepping out of the elevator back down on the fifth floor, the door of <E-1> had caught my eye.

Right. That night, she came out of this apartment carrying three big garbage bags. And…

“My room was a total mess. I had so many things I didn’t need. I promised I would take care of keeping the place clean, but…man, it turned into a dump before I knew it.”

That’s what she said. Thinking back on it now, that was…

It was because no one had lived in the apartment for three years—it had been abandoned. So over the years, it must have been filled up with all sorts of things that the newly resurrected Izumi “didn’t need.” The room would have held all her school textbooks and notebooks and stuff, and maybe a photo of her set up as a portrait of the deceased, as well as probably all sorts of incense and incense holders. Izumi must have seen all this as insignificant clutter and thrown it away. And back then, without having the slightest clue, I’d helped her do it.

I had warily approached the door to <E-1> and, after a few moments standing there, suddenly heard something—the faint sound of a piano.

My breath had caught in my throat.

This sound…is it coming from the room on the other side of this door?

And this tune…this is Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata,” the one Izumi played?

It can’t be… No, don’t be stupid.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I’d tried shaking my head as hard as I could—and the sound of the piano had in fact vanished immediately.

Of course.

Obviously, I was just imagining things. Some kind of auditory hallucination perhaps?

But that was not the only time it happened. And every time, a scene that shouldn’t have been possible had surfaced in my mind…of Izumi still in that room, playing that piano…and I had to fight to stave off the panic.

On my first day back at school after my bereavement leave, I had gone to the secondary library during lunch to see Mr. Chibiki. Mei had said that it was up to me to decide what to do next, and after some thought, that was what I’d chosen.

I had come right out and said it, straight to the point. “The ‘casualty’ who joined our class as part of this year’s ‘phenomenon’ was ‘Izumi Akazawa.’”

At first, Mr. Chibiki had clearly looked bewildered. “What’s this, all of a sudden?”

By that time, the existence of that year’s “Izumi Akazawa” should have already disappeared from Mr. Chibiki’s memory.

“Akazawa…if I remember correctly, she was a student in Grade 3 Class 3 three years ago.”

It was the response I had anticipated. His memory had once again completely reverted to how things originally were.

“She was one of the people who died in the ‘calamity’ three years ago, right? She was also my cousin, three years older than me. And ‘Izumi Akazawa’ was resurrected as a member of Grade 3 Class 3 this year. As my cousin still but the same age as me. She was one of the countermeasures officers, so you spoke to her many times as well…”

From Mr. Chibiki’s current perspective, this must have all sounded quite impossible. On the other hand, he must have realized that I wouldn’t have come to him like that without a good reason.

“Last Wednesday, on the night of that big storm, she fell into the swollen Yomiyama River. I was there; I witnessed it.”

Mr. Chibiki hadn’t said anything. A deep vertical wrinkle had carved its way across his forehead.

“…………”

“So that makes me certain that she must have been this year’s ‘casualty.’ I only seem to remember because I witnessed her ‘death’ that night.”

I had decided to try revealing the “truth,” up to a point, to Mr. Chibiki at least. As he had been observing the “phenomenon” for many years, I’d thought that perhaps he would understand. That was what I’d decided.

Mei had told me that I didn’t have to do anything, but of course there was no way I could let it go without trying something. If Mr. Chibiki wouldn’t listen to me at all, then I would figure something else out. I could try a different plan, or I could give up and do nothing.

“So…,” I’d continued. “So the ‘extra person,’ the ‘casualty,’ has disappeared from this world, and everyone’s memories have gone back to how they were before the changes—which means that this year’s ‘calamity’ is now over, right? That’s what I think. Just like three years ago.” That was probably the first time I’d ever spoken so directly and forcefully to a grown adult.

“Three years ago?” Mr. Chibiki had grumbled, then held his tongue. He’d placed a finger on the dark-green frame of his glasses and squeezed his eyes shut tight behind the lenses, keeping them closed for a little while…then finally—

“I remember hearing a similar story three years ago, too,” Mr. Chibiki had said, opening his eyes abruptly.

“That year, over summer break…yes, that year, I heard something from Sakakibara, who I believe you know.”

“Ah…”

“Back then, he also said that he thought the ‘extra person’ for that year had disappeared. You know about the incident that took place on the class trip that summer, right? About the murders, and the fire…and the theory that the ‘extra person’ also died in the uproar? We suspected that was why the ‘calamity’ stopped.”

“That’s…” Mr. Chibiki had faltered, placed a hand on his forehead, and let out a troubled sigh. “I don’t think I ever heard from Sakakibara, but…no, these memories are probably not reliable anymore. Regardless of whether he ever told me or not, I don’t remember now. The ‘phenomenon’ can do that sort of thing, you see.”

“Sure.”

I knew all about that.

“Therefore, I think there’s value in listening carefully to the story you just told me.” Mr. Chibiki had taken his hand off his forehead and sat up straight. “As far as I can tell, you’re very calm. I don’t think you would be able to speak that way if you had merely had some delusion.”

“Right.”

“Three years ago, as Sakakibara said, the ‘accidents’ stopped after the disaster on the school trip. From September on, there wasn’t a single victim… I hope that is the case this year as well.”

“I’m sure that everything is okay now.”

Mr. Chibiki had held his tongue again. Then, after a while, he’d finally nodded. “Hmm. All right.”

“So…”

“For now, I’ll take this to Ms. Kanbayashi and consult with her. We’ll have to see what she says, but we might be able to tell your class that the ‘calamity’ is over…”

However, after that—

Before Ms. Kanbayashi could deliver her judgment, a rumor had started spreading among the students in the class that the “calamity” was already over. There were too many desks in the classroom (since Izumi Akazawa’s disappearance). As soon as someone had noticed the discrepancy, people had started speculating that the “extra person” was no longer with us…

During the latter half of that week, we had finished the end-of-semester exams without any trouble (my scores were terrible, no surprise there…). Finally, after the weekend, during Monday morning’s homeroom, Ms. Kanbayashi had made her announcement to the entire class.

7

By the way…

A lot had happened over the past few weeks, but one thing in particular stuck out, and I couldn’t get it out of my head. Again and again, I kept ruminating on my visit to Mei’s house the night before my grandfather’s wake, how she’d suddenly interrupted my conversation with Kirika, practically forcing us apart.

Afterward, at Mei’s urging, the two of us had gone straight to the elevator at the back of the room and taken it down to the showroom in the basement.

“Thanks for playing along. I’m sorry to do something like that so suddenly,” Mei had apologized. Then she’d lowered her voice to a whisper. “You saw her at the hospital?” she’d asked, referring to my exchange with Kirika upstairs. “My mother…Kirika. When did you see her?”

“Uh, it was…” I’d hastily searched my memory. “It was on my way home from counseling…I think around the middle of April. We crossed paths in the entry hall of the hospital. The next time was at the bus stop in front of the hospital. And then again at the end of last month, right before I ran into you and we went up to the roof of the hospital ward.”

“You just saw her, right? You didn’t speak to her?”

“Right. She didn’t seem to notice me. But…that’s why I thought she might be unwell, receiving treatment at the hospital.”

“…I see.”

Mei had moved quietly through the cellar-like basement, then stopped in front of the beautiful, conjoined twin dolls, the ones that had been there forever, and turned to look at me.

“Sou, the person you saw was not Kirika.”

“Huh? But I was certain…”

It had not occurred to me before that very moment that the woman I’d seen at the hospital might not have been Kirika but someone who looked a lot like her.

I’d recalled another day in the previous month—June 9.

That afternoon, Mei had suddenly shown up at my apartment in the Freuden Tobii. While she was there, I don’t know how we got on the subject, but she had told me her “life story” for the first time…

She’d told me that Kirika, or Yukiyo Misaki, was not her real mother, and that Yukiyo had a fraternal twin sister, Mitsuyo Fujioka, who had been the one to give birth to Mei. Something had happened, and Mei had been taken into the Misaki family as an adopted daughter when she was still very young…

“So the person I saw wasn’t Kirika; it was…Mitsuyo?”

Even though they were fraternal twins, their faces looked so alike that they were practically identical. Unusual, but not impossible.

Mei had nodded slightly and glanced at the conjoined twin dolls…then, almost in a whisper, she had said to me, “Mitsuyo got divorced two years ago, then remarried… That’s what I was told. Then, around the end of last year, she moved here, even though she had always lived far outside the city. That’s one of the reasons she’s been contacting me directly since early this past spring…”

At that point, I had recalled the ringtone on Mei’s cell phone. I’d never heard her phone ring before that spring, but since then, I’d heard it at least twice.

When I thought back on it, the first time had been when I’d gone to her house in April.

A tune different from the music flowing through the gallery had suddenly played…and when it did, Mei had acted uncharacteristically flustered. She had left the table and stepped outside the building. At the time, I had been a little surprised that Mei, who had never hesitated to call cell phones “awful devices,” had gone out of her way to set a ringtone on hers, but maybe that call had been from Mitsuyo?

I’d encountered Hazumi near the Yomiyama River, and we had talked about various things. As we’d crossed the Izana Bridge, Mei had happened to be there, on the path on the opposite bank. She had gotten a call then, too, accompanied by the same melody, and when she’d answered it, I had overheard her disjointed responses. “I’m… But…yes. All right… Huh? Sure, okay… I haven’t said anything, relax.” I recalled being curious about who she was talking to.

That call was probably from Mitsuyo, too…

“…She calls me, so we’ve been talking, and soon we’re going to start seeing each other sometimes. But it’s an absolute secret from Kirika. If she knew, she would succumb to anxiety again and get very angry, and probably very sad.”

After she had finished talking, Mei had sighed very deeply.

She obviously didn’t want to upset Kirika or make her sad. But she couldn’t refuse contact with her birth mother, and she didn’t want to. Mei had been in this situation, pulled in two directions, for several months.

“So then your mother…Mitsuyo, she must be unwell in some way, and that’s why she’s going to the hospital?” It had felt like my heart was being pulled in two directions. “That day when we went up to the roof and talked, before I ran into you, were you there to see Mitsuyo?”

Mei hadn’t answered any of my questions. For a second, her lips had moved as if she was going to talk, but she’d quickly stopped and sighed again.

“Listen, Sou,” she had said, “don’t say anything about this to anyone for now. I’m still figuring everything out, so…so…”

Mei had trailed off and stared down at the floor, as if she’d lost track of the words that were supposed to come next.

“It’s all right,” I had answered with a firm nod. “I won’t tell anyone. I’ll definitely keep it a secret.”

8

“What’s wrong, Sou?”

Yagisawa’s voice snapped me back to the present, out of my reminiscing. It couldn’t have actually been that long, but to Yagisawa, I’m sure that I must have looked like my mind was elsewhere.

“Ah, sorry,” I said, using my spoon to stir the totally melted ice cream in my uneaten “special parfait.”

“I just sort of zoned out.”

“Worn out from the move?”

“No… Well, yeah, probably.”

I put the spoon down, let out a long sigh, and rested my chin in my hand, without really knowing why. Even though the air conditioner was running and the windows were closed, I could still hear the constant crying of cicadas in the garden.

“That reminds me.” Yagisawa opened his fanny pack and pulled a folded wallet out from inside. “I’ve got this thing.”

Then he showed me an advance ticket for Jurassic Park III, which was first going to open to the public in August—

“I don’t remember buying this ticket.”

“Ah, in that case…,” I responded and searched through the same bag that I had stored the mini album in earlier.

I think it was in one of the inner pockets…

“…Got it!” I pulled it out and showed it to Yagisawa. “I’ve got the same thing!”

“Huh?” He stuck his lip out, looking puzzled or maybe a little disconcerted. “Did I promise to go see it with you or something?”

“You don’t remember—do you, Yagisawa?”

“You did make a promise,” I said, looking down at the crumpled Jurassic Park III advance ticket sitting on my palm. “But it wasn’t just you and me. We were all going to go together over summer break. That’s what she said…”

9

I would go on to hear the piano playing “Moonlight Sonata” several more times after the night I spoke with Souta—two or three times in the elevator on the fifth floor, which was close to <E-1>, and even once in my own apartment, which was on the same floor. Every time, I would tell myself that it was only my imagination and shake my head, and the sound would quickly disappear.

No doubt it was all an illusion. First of all, the room in <E-1> where the piano sat was soundproofed, so the music shouldn’t have been able to escape.

So why do I keep hearing that song, even though I know it’s not possible? I had wondered. Is it because, on some unconscious level, my mind is trying to reject the fact that Izumi is gone from this world? Is it because I wish that she still existed?

I’d been reminded of my bizarre experience during summer three years prior at Lakeshore Manor, and it had filled me with anxiety and fear, as well as a great sadness. It had felt like there was a possibility that I was becoming obsessed with someone who was no longer around…

So I had begun to think that I shouldn’t stay there any longer. Like I’d better get out of that apartment building as quickly as possible, or else…

I had pushed the issue with Auntie Sayuri and the others, and a week prior, we had settled on my moving back as soon as the summer break began. And then, one night, I’d been on my way back to my apartment from the Akazawa main house when—

It was someone wearing a white raincoat (even though it wasn’t raining outside). Their head was deep in the hood, and I couldn’t make out their face, but I promptly murmured, “Izumi?”

She had also been wearing a white raincoat on the night of the 5th, and my memory of her seemed to overlay onto the figure before me.

Astonished, I ran up to the elevator, but the doors closed immediately, and the elevator began to move…then it finally stopped. It stopped on the fifth floor.

As I pressed the call button, I closed my eyes and shook my head.

I mumbled Izumi’s name without thinking, but of course there was no way that it could have been her. What I had seen just then had to be someone else wearing a white raincoat—that, or a complete figment of my imagination…a type of hallucination perhaps.

There’s no such thing as ghosts. They can’t exist.

That had been my unshakable conviction ever since that bizarre experience three years ago. To say nothing of the fact that the “Izumi Akazawa” who had died the night of the 5th had already been dead to begin with. The idea that she could appear as a ghost after we had returned the “casualty” to “death”…there was just no way.

It can’t be; it can’t be…, I repeated to myself, breathing hard. I’ve got to get a hold of myself.

I waited for the elevator cage to come back, then rode up to the fifth floor. When I stepped out into the elevator lobby, I nervously looked around. The pale figure from before was nowhere to be seen, and I felt a moment of relief. However, just then—

The sound of a piano.

I heard it coming faintly from unit <E-1>, where no one was living.

Ah, again?

I sighed.

I can’t take it anymore. I can’t do this…

Growing steadily more anxious, I shook my head hard. That had always made the sound go away before.

But it didn’t go away, not that time.

The tune the piano was playing was a different one than the times before. It wasn’t the “Moonlight Sonata.” Instead, it was some other dreary melody that I didn’t recognize…

Though I was very confused, I approached the door of unit <E-1>. Without a doubt, the sound of the piano was audible from inside that apartment. I held my breath and put my hand on the doorknob.

The knob turned, and the door opened.

It’s not locked. Someone is inside this apartment right now. They’re in the piano room, actually playing the piano.

“Izumi…,” I mumbled unconsciously, “…no way.”

It can’t be—going against my better judgment, I slowly and quietly stepped into the room.

Contrary to whatever vague expectations I held, it was bright inside. The lights in the living room were on.

Which means…?

At a glance, the room looked just as it had on the evening of the 5th, when I’d come to borrow the class photo. But there was something in the air, an indescribable sense of desolation.

Everything was neatly put away, so the place wasn’t a wreck or anything, but something about it was definitely different. Despite the season, the air felt chilly and stagnant, like the bottom of a well. It might have been my imagination, but the color of everything in the apartment—from the rug spread on the floor, to the blinds on the windows, to the display shelf with the glass door—everything seemed more faded than before. This could also have been my imagination, but for some reason, I thought I detected a faint moldy smell, too…

…The piano performance continued.

I noticed that the door to the piano room was standing ajar. That explained how the sound was getting out.

Then, suddenly, the music ceased, and a voice came from the other side of the door.

“Who’s there?”

“Is someone in here?”

Though I had boldly made it as far as the living room, I’d suddenly found myself paralyzed, frozen on the spot. The person at the piano had clearly noticed me.

Before I was able to manage a response, the piano room door had opened. Auntie Mayuko had looked at me with wide-eyed surprise.

“Well! What’s wrong, Sou?”

“Ah, um…I…” As bewildered as I was by this unexpected development, I had answered with the approximate truth. “I was curious about the sound of the piano…so, and the door was open, so I just came on in… Um, I’m sorry.”

“Ah…of course, I understand your concern. I think I told you that this is the room Izumi used to use, didn’t I, Sou?”

I actually had never heard that from Mayuko, but I had stayed quiet and nodded. I’d understood immediately that this was one of her memories that had been overwritten with the disappearance of “Izumi Akazawa.”

10

“Your grandfather died in that accident, and then Souta came home for the first time in three years. I just couldn’t stop thinking about Izumi…”

After I’d discovered her, Mayuko had come out into the living area, pulled out a chair at the dining table, and sat down wearily.

“…I came in here for the first time in so long, and when I saw the piano in that room, I suddenly wanted to play it. Three years have already gone by, but somehow it feels like she was in here just yesterday…”

“Does it?” I’d answered as I sat in the chair facing Mayuko. I had just realized that she was holding a handkerchief in her left hand. I’d also noticed what looked like tear streaks running from her eyes down her cheeks.

“Poor piano.”

I’d heard the same words from Izumi the previous month.

“I’ll have to ask Mama about it.”

But in the end, she’d never gotten to make that request…

Mayuko sat for some time with her mouth closed and her eyes cast downward. Eventually, I’d asked her, “…Um, Izumi…she passed away on a school trip during summer break three years ago—is that right?”

Mayuko had nodded slightly but with no hesitation. I’d been able to tell that her memory of the “summer trip,” which had previously been obscured by the “phenomenon,” had completely come back to her.

“You know, at school that year, there was nothing but trouble. It seemed like there was something going on with her class, but no matter how I asked, she always told me it was nothing…”

So three years ago, Izumi obeyed the “rules” to the very end. She didn’t even confide in her own mother about the “phenomenon” and the “accidents,” huh?

“There have been a series of disastrous incidents at school this year, too, haven’t there? A friend of yours passed away, too, right, Sou?”

“Yes.”

“Is everything all right? Maybe something is going on, like three years ago…?”

Under Mayuko’s concerned gaze, I’d answered flatly, “Everything’s fine.”

Everything is fine now anyway—I’d added in my mind. But I hadn’t said it out loud.

“I certainly hope so.” Mayuko had put on a stiff smile and used her fingers as a comb to tidy her slightly disheveled hair (the gray hairs were conspicuous for her age).

Slowly, she’d looked around the room. “It was a shock when she died so suddenly. We kept her apartment like this, but…but you know, I think it’s time to stop.”

“I had the thought earlier when I was playing the piano by myself. It’s not healthy. No matter how long I drag it out like this, she’s not coming back to life.”

I hadn’t been able to find the appropriate words, so I had also looked around the room. The velociraptor that Izumi had said she liked had been sitting among the dinosaur figurines in the display case, and for some reason, it had looked just like it was scowling at me.

“You can come and visit anytime, Sou, even after you move back to the house,” Mayuko had said, suddenly changing her tone of voice.

“As long as I won’t be a nuisance,” I’d answered.

Then Mayuko had smiled more naturally and pushed away from the table. “Souta also told me to loan his books out to you, as many as you like.”

“Ah, all right.”

“You two just met for the first time the other day, but he really seems to have taken a liking to you, Sou. So that’s why.”

“Well, okay, I won’t hold back…”

After that, I had followed Mayuko as she moved to leave <E-1>, but as we were going—

I’d spotted something on the built-in counter between the kitchen and the living room—something that had been casually dropped beside the coffee.

An advance ticket for Jurassic Park III—one of the ones Izumi had purchased after saying we should all go see it over summer break. Her ticket had been sitting there…

Without thinking, I had picked it up and stealthily stuffed it into my pants pocket.

11

I placed my wrinkled ticket on the table and started digging through the same bag again, mumbling, “And I think…”

“What is it? You’ve got something else?” Yagisawa leaned forward.

I pulled out something from in between the various notebooks stuffed haphazardly into my bag. It was the third advance ticket, which I had put into a clear folder.

“I found it left behind in her room. I took it with me.”

I removed the ticket and lined it up next to the one I had just put down.

“Whoa.” Yagisawa nodded and set his ticket down in front of the other two.

“We really did make that promise, huh? I don’t remember it at all… Geez.” He made a fist with his right hand and rapped it against his own forehead. “We were pretty good friends, huh?”

“Pretty good, yeah,” I answered as smoothly as possible. “You and her were, yeah, you seemed to get along really well.”

“You don’t say. Hmm, but I don’t remember her. It’s so irritating!”

“There’s no helping it. That’s what the ‘phenomenon’ does.”

“Mm, but still…”

After Tsugunaga had died in May, Izumi had served as the female class representative. The male rep was Yagisawa, so the two of them had that in common, too.

By the way, in the present, where “Izumi Akazawa” didn’t exist, a different girl had been chosen to be the class rep after Tsugunaga’s death (a girl named Fukuchi, who had been a friend of Tsugunaga’s)… That was a “fact” that had been overwritten. The same thing had happened with the countermeasures officers—an overwrite had occurred so that this year’s officers had been Etou and Tajimi from the start.

“The premiere is August fourth, huh?” Yagisawa said, gazing at the three tickets lined up on the table. “Want to go see it together?”

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

“We’ve got three tickets, so should we invite a third person?”

“Mm, that would be all right, too, but…”

Who would we invite?

“Well then.” Yagisawa glanced at his watch and stood up from his chair. “I’d better get going.”

“Isn’t it a little early yet?”

“Well actually, it’s my youngest brother’s birthday today, and we’re all having cake together, so my mom insisted that I come home early.”

I almost burst into laughter when I saw Yagisawa’s extremely serious face as he told me that. No matter what he might say, this guy loves his family—I thought, feeling both jealous and heartsick.

“Anyway, it’s summer vacation,” Yagisawa said as he stood up and stretched with a groan. “I am concerned about high school entrance exams, but that’s way down the road. It’s our last summer vacation in middle school, and I plan to live it up.”

There’s the self-proclaimed “optimist” we all know…

“Have you got anything planned for the summer, Sou?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, travel or something.”

“Not really. I’ll probably spend it cleaning my room and reading books.”

“You never change.” Yagisawa scratched his head with its long, stiff hair. “Well, let me know if you suddenly decide you want to form a band or something. You can start out on the triangle or the handbells, so…”

…And so on.

We kept chatting about nothing important for a little while after that, but when the talking stopped, a strange silence suddenly settled over us. I was sure Yagisawa had said that he had to get going, but he stopped short of moving to pick up his ticket from the table. When I noticed the way he was acting, it made me a little nervous.

I think the silence lasted three or four seconds. Then Yagisawa broke it. “Hey, Sou?” The tone of his voice was different than before. “I know I shouldn’t be asking you something like this here, but do you suppose this year’s ‘calamity’ is really, truly over?”

“No.” Yagisawa frowned. “It’s not…worry; it’s like it doesn’t feel like reality.”

“Reality, huh?”

“You have it, don’t you, some sense that it’s all real?”

“I do.”

“That’s why I asked—to check. The ‘accidents’ have really stopped, right? Everything’s okay now?”

When he repeated his question, I threw the same question at myself again…and then I nodded. “Yes. It’s okay. In theory.”

“This whole ‘phenomenon’ and ‘calamity’ thing is completely absurd to begin with, but…does that pass muster, your ‘theory’?”

It wasn’t like Yagisawa to be so insistent. He wasn’t giving me any room to maneuver.

I summoned all my strength and answered him. “It passes.”

This year’s “phenomenon” is over, and the “accidents” have stopped. Everything’s all right now. We don’t need to fear anything anymore. That’s a fact. If not, then returning Izumi to “death” that night didn’t mean anything.

That was what the e-mail said.

When she couldn’t get through on my cell phone, she had probably called the house phone and heard about my condition from Auntie Sayuri.

There was another e-mail, with the following report.

2

By early August, I had moved back into my normal room and mostly finished sorting my things. Then I started leading the life I had told Yagisawa I would, a life of reading.

Whenever I ran out of books, I would, as was my habit, make my way to the public library at Daybreak Forest. I thought I would wait awhile before taking advantage of Souta’s offer to borrow books from his room at the Freuden Tobii.

It was the height of summer.

Even in the early morning, the sunlight was strong and hot, but when I went out by the river, the breeze was somewhat cool. The row of cherry trees standing on the opposite bank was thickly covered in deep-green leaves, and the weeds underfoot were growing wild and tall. The cicadas and other bugs were chirping with enough energy to drown out the sound of the flowing river.

I sat down for a moment on a bench by the river and noticed a kingfisher hovering there.

I haven’t seen one of those since the time I was here with Hazumi in mid-April… No, that’s not right. I’m pretty sure I caught sight of one on the morning Shunsuke died, too.

Instinctively, I formed my imaginary viewfinder with my fingers and captured the bird’s lovely movements. The fact that I was able to take such a spontaneous action made me realize that I might be working my way back to some sense of normalcy.

There was no longer any need to fear the “accidents” or to think about the “countermeasures.” And of course, there was also no need for me to run away from this town, like Teruya did before me. I knew that I was supposed to be safe now, but something still felt strange somehow. What’s more, from time to time, sudden pangs of loneliness would grip me whenever I remembered the face, the voice, the little gestures of the “Izumi Akazawa” who was no more. My heart would throb with a dull pain every time I thought of her.

Since leaving the Freuden Tobii, I hadn’t heard the piano playing or seen any phantoms. So I figured I was fine. Something like what happened three years ago wasn’t going to happen now. However, sometimes I did think back on it, of course, even though it was almost unbearable to remember.

I wonder how long it will be before these memories disappear? How long before I forget, like everyone else, the truth that she existed in this world for three months, starting in April? I wonder if I’m allowed to forget…

I mentally overlaid the deadly still lake surface of Lake Minazuki onto the surface of the gently flowing Yomiyama River and imagined I could hear a low, distant rumbling out over the water.

“It probably can’t happen for a little while yet, but…”

As I gazed at the river, these words that Mei had said to me at some point came back to me.

“How about we go to Lakeshore Manor together again sometime? Of course, we’d keep it a secret from everybody—it would just be the two of us. How about it?”

As Mei said, something like that would be impossible for a while yet. But if we were going sometime, then I could believe that the time would come, eventually, even if I couldn’t imagine when that might be…

If it was like a normal year, Mei would be coming back from the vacation home before Obon—probably around August 10. I decided to find a good time to get in touch with her then. And to boldly invite her to go see Jurassic Park III.

3

It was just before noon on Wednesday, August 8.

For the first time in a while, I went to the “clinic” in the annex building of the municipal hospital and met with Dr. Usui.

“Ah, Sou, you look well.”

It meant a lot to hear him say that today, as I sat across from him in the examination room. As far as I could remember, this was the first time he’d greeted me that way.

“I was worried about you when I heard that your grandfather passed away last month; have you been all right? You weren’t terribly agitated again by the death of someone close to you?”

“Ah, right, it was a shock, but…but yeah, I’m all right.”

I didn’t hesitate to answer that way. I had been sleeping without trouble at night and having fewer nightmares. My health had also been good, once I’d recovered from that summer cold.

“That’s… Yes.”

“Do you speak on the phone?”

“Well, sometimes,” I answered in a deliberately quiet voice. It was unclear whether the doctor saw through my falsehood, but he nodded approvingly and blinked his small eyes.

“I’m glad to see you looking well. But don’t push yourself too hard—don’t try to force yourself to put on a good face. Tough times are tough. Sad times are sad. Scary times are scary. You maintain a healthy mental balance by feeling these things honestly and recognizing and accepting them for what they are. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

The weather this morning had been clear and summery, but as I arrived at the hospital, some suspicious clouds had been quickly spreading across the sky. By the time I was finished with my counseling and left the exam room, it had started to rain. The rain was strong enough that I winced and let out a reflexive, “Whoa!”

I moved through the connecting passage into the main building and headed for the hospital lobby. In the time it took me to get there, the rain grew more and more intense, and the sound of it could be heard reverberating through the building. I looked outside every time I passed a window, and the view was dark like dusk even though it was the middle of the day.

I didn’t have an umbrella with me. Thinking I would stay put until it slowed to a light rain, I joined the line of people waiting at the cashier’s window.

Just then, something caught my attention.

A pale figure, loitering inconspicuously in a section of the spacious lobby.

It was someone wearing a girls’ summer uniform for North Yomi… But who?

She was quite far away, and there were many people coming and going between us. But I strained my eyes to look at “her” face.

“Ah!” I unconsciously made a noise.

It’s her—it’s Izumi’s face.

I shut my eyes in a panic, denying what I had seen. After keeping them closed for a moment, I warily took another look. But the pale figure was still there. I could see her face. It really was her—it was Izumi’s face. A very white, blank face.

Impossible. Of course, this is just my imagination. It’s some kind of hallucination or illusion.

I tried very hard to convince myself that that was true, but even so, she did not disappear from that spot. I couldn’t pull my eyes away; it was like I was entranced.

Finally, her lips moved slightly. I felt like I could hear her voice right by my ear, despite the distance between us. I thought I heard her call my name, So-ouu…

It was definitely her voice—Izumi’s.

I felt like I was losing my mind. Like I’d been pulled into some alternate dimension.

All other sounds around me were drowned out by static, like a radio that has gone out of tune. The figures of the other people in the lobby and their movements lost their sense of reality, as if they had fallen back behind a kind of translucent wall.

As this was happening—

Her silhouette moved nimbly. Without a moment’s delay, I made to follow her.

After that, I can remember only scattered fragments, bits and pieces of what happened. Like trying to think back on the events of a dream after waking.

I remember leaving the lobby and jumping into the elevator. I saw her get in it, and I followed, slipping between the closing doors. However, when I got inside, there was no one there but me.

So-ouu…

Even so, the button for the destination was illuminated.

<B-2>.

The elevator cage arrived at the second basement level, and I hesitantly stepped out.

So-ouu…

I thought I heard my name being called and set off down the corridor on my left. Several meters ahead of me, her hazy white figure appeared. When it did, all the lights lining the ceiling abruptly began to flicker. I followed her. But shortly thereafter, burnout followed the flickering, and the figure melted away in the descending darkness. I lost sight of her whereabouts, and as I was puzzling over which direction to go, the figure reappeared, several meters ahead of me. I followed again. But I lost sight of her a second time… It seemed like the cycle would keep repeating forever.

I think I climbed several flights of stairs as I was walking around, and I remember the corridor making many twists and turns along the way. I’m pretty sure I also went down some stairs and that the corridor had sections that sloped gently up or down.

It was like I had wandered into a huge, eerie labyrinth in the spirit world.

Following the figure had gotten me completely lost. I had no idea where in the hospital I might be. Honestly, I was gradually losing confidence that this place I was wandering around was even still inside Yumigaoka Hospital…

…………

…………

I suddenly came back to my senses when my eyes were dazzled by an unexpected flash of bright light.

Out the window—the true identity of the flash was a bolt of lightning, streaking across the dark sky. I correctly recognized that the noise made by the driving rain was not meaningless static but just the normal sound of rain. I also realized that I was standing in a gloomy hallway somewhere inside the hospital.

There was a pale figure, several meters ahead of me.

So-ouu…

Sure enough, there she was, wearing a girls’ summer uniform for North Yomi.

“Huh?” She sounded surprised as she turned to face me. “Hiratsuka…?”

Huh? …Ah, I was wrong. That’s not Izumi.

She’s not Izumi. She’s taller than Izumi, and her hair is cut short. And she’s holding a little bouquet. This is…

“Etou…?”

She’s Etou, one of the countermeasures officers for Grade 3 Class 3. The girl who originally suggested having two “non-existers” for our “countermeasures” this year…

“Ah…um, hello?” I greeted her idiotically.

“Ah, um, uh…”

Why is Etou here?

I tilted my head to the side in confusion, and I felt as if I had just been released by whatever spirit had been haunting me. I looked around at my surroundings again, trying to get a grip on the situation.