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I got another phone call today.
When I heard the hysterical ringing, like the caterwauling of tomcats, my hair instantly stood on end, my body started trembling, and I felt like the hot nails of pain and discomfort clawing at my stomach would send me over the edge.
The world would be so much more peaceful if there were no phones.
The phone only spits out ugly words, dirty words, cursed words.
Their clinging, spiteful, unrestrained, mean voices thick with miasma fill a world that should be beautiful with garbage.
I wish all these people who make the phone ring so obnoxiously would just die!
Prologue—Memories for an Introduction—What I Wanted to Be
What is true happiness?
In one corner of the universe, there was a boy who pondered that.
My happiness was Miu.
Before, just having Miu by my side made my heart leap, and when Miu crafted stories in her bright, clear voice, everything around us glittered with rainbows.
“I’m gonna be a writer. Tons of people are going to read my books. It would be awesome if that made them happy.”
In a warm dappling of sunlight through the trees, her ponytail swaying, Miu talked about her dreams for the future with gleaming eyes.
“You’re the only one I told, Konoha. Because you’re special.”
She whispered in a pretty voice, tilting her head like a small bird and looking straight at me with teasing eyes.
“What’s your dream, Konoha? What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Miu’s face came close enough to kiss, so I was sweating horribly and didn’t know which way to look anymore.
I thought about it carefully, wringing my brain out with both hands until I began to grow desperate, knowing that I had to answer her. My cheeks grew hot, and finally—
“I want to be…a tree.”
When I said that, she guffawed at me.
Three years have passed since then.
I lost my holy land, and Miu went into hiding. After a dark period living as a recluse, I became a normal high school student.
Now that my second year of high school was nearing its end, still ignorant of the meaning of happiness and still not a tree, I wrote a snack story for the book girl in the clubroom that had been dyed a soft golden color in the sunset.
Chapter 1—Step by Step It Comes
“Shadow over Innsmouth by Lovecraft has the taste of slurping up raw fish blood, y’know.”
It was after school, like always. Tohko had burst out with that proclamation out of nowhere. I was shocked, and I paused in writing the improv story.
Old books monopolized the room in the western corner of the third floor. The stacks of books had formed mounds all over, and on top of being cramped, the room was dusty.
The fold-up chair next to the window was reserved for Tohko, and today she was again sitting there reading a book. Her thin, black braids like cats’ tails hung past her hips. Her small feet, swathed in school socks, rested crassly on the chair, and she turned the pages with her white fingers. As she read, she tore small pieces from the edges of the page, then brought them to her rosy lips. She then ground them between her teeth with a rapturous expression.
“Ahhh, how delicious. This rawness that pricks the nostrils. The cool, chewy texture. Just what you’d expect from Lovecraft’s greatest work, from the master of fantasy literature, the father of the Cthulhu Mythos! The goopy tartness of blood coating my tongue—it’s too much!”
Weird.
Tohko wasn’t supposed to like scary stories.
“I am a book girl who loves all the books of this world so much that I want to devour them,” she boasted regularly, but even a president like that had weaknesses.
Although she would say that the horror and gorefest stories I deliberately wrote for her were “F-fine, really,” she ate them with a lot of sniffles. But today, Tohko seemed to be honestly reveling in the taste of stuff like rotten fish eyeballs and gooey fountains of blood.
“Howard Phillips Lovecraft was an American author born in 1890. The fantasy stories he wrote about the resurrection of Elder Gods who had dominion over the Earth in antiquity were systematized after his death into what’s come to be called the Cthulhu Mythos. Since then, scores of authors inspired by the mysterious and ghastly dark myths have published stories about Cthulhu.
“The gods in the stories resemble marine animals like octopus, squid, or fish, and they have squirmy tentacles or fins, and they’re slimy, and they stink. That’s what’s so lovely and adorable about them!”
L-lovely? I blinked, and her words took on an even greater energy.
“Shadow over Innsmouth is crawling with cute little fish monsters. It’s fantastic.
“The young man who’s the protagonist visits the port town of Innsmouth on his journey. The town is filled with a rank odor and the residents have bloated, unblinking eyes, their heads are narrow, and they’re vaguely fish-like.
“At that point, the protagonist begins investigating the fearful religion tied to the place, but an evil shadow is closing in, lapping at him like waves. Ohhh, but, but, but—okay, Innsmouth is adorable, but Dagon is so dreamy!
“As an introductory work, I recommend Call of Cthulhu. You should read the two together. It’s like surströmming and utterly yummy!”
“Isn’t surströmming supposed to be the smelliest canned food in the world? It’s got fermented herrings in it or something…”
Tohko nodded with relish.
“That’s right. The stench so reminiscent of fragrant gutters carries for dozens of yards, and the fully fermented, bulging can erupts with polluted water girded with a murderous smell.
“Until you bring it to your lips, your nose wrinkles at the intense aroma, and tears pour out of your eyes. Overcoming these challenges and tasting the slimy, salty bite of the herring with your entire tongue—that delight is no less than a happy birthday on the other side!”
“You’re talking about being dead!”
Tohko ignored my interruption and munched enthusiastically on Shadow over Innsmouth. It was no longer crinkle-crinkle, but instead crunch-crunch. She ripped the entire page out and stuffed it in her mouth.
Something was definitely off!
I took a closer look and saw that Tohko’s uniform had short sleeves.
Why, in the middle of winter? Besides, wasn’t the club supposed to be on hiatus because she was studying for exams?
“Did you write my snack, Konoha?”
Tohko turned her eyes toward me and smiled crisply. With an inexplicable chill running up my spine, I said, “Y-yeah,” and handed over the improv story I’d just finished writing. She accepted it with elation and started eating.
Today’s topics were “daisies,” “a shamisen,” and “a water taxi.” They were so different I’d struggled to tie them together, but it was hopefully the kind of sweet love story Tohko loved.
“Yuck.”
Wha—?
I gaped at being slapped down so quickly, and Tohko puffed her cheeks out, pulled her mouth into a frown, and said, “A sugary story where there’s a boy givi
ng a shamisen performance on a water taxi and a girl gently removes a daisy from her shirt and shyly gives it to him is no good at all. It’s got to go like, lumps of flesh floating in an ocean dyed red and throwing up splashes of blood, and then Dagon appears. This is more like a fruit sandwich. It’s too refreshing, and I think it’s going to give me heartburn.”
“But—Tohko, you always tell me to write sweet stories—”
“No, what I like is red blood dripping out of raw fish!”
Tohko inched up to me without even blinking, and her face turned more squarish and grew gills, her ears turned into fins, and webs appeared on her hands.
“T-Tohko! You’re looking a lot more like a goblin now!”
“What are you saying? I’m a book girl from head to toe. Now then! Redo this, Konoha! Write me a horror story spattered with gobs of slimy blood!”
The braid-bedecked goblin’s face had become entirely that of a fish, and she opened her mouth wide and came rushing at me.
It let off a stench like raw garbage, and filthy water fell on my face. The shock of this made the insides of my nose burn, and my consciousness receded until, the next moment—
“Agghh!!”
I woke up in my own bed.
It was bright outside the curtain, the air was cool, and my sweat-covered body was shuddering.
“I-it was a dream…”
A new year was beginning today, and what an awful dream to start it with.
My shoulders slumped, and I got out of bed.
When I went down to the living room on the first floor, my little sister who was in first grade greeted me in a very adult tone.
“Happy New Year, Konoha.”
“Happy New Year, Maika.”
I patted her head, and she looked up and giggled at me happily.
“Happy New Year, Konoha. The grilled rice cake soup is ready,” my mother called from the kitchen. My father was already at the table and was in high spirits, having sips of warm sake.
“Ah, Konoha, Maika! Here’s your New Year’s money.”
“Hooorraaay, thank you!”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Everyone sat down at the table, and we ate the soup and other traditional dishes that my mother had made while we watched a New Year’s special on TV.
“Thanks, Mom.”
After I cleared my plate, I went to my room to put on a coat and then came back.
“Oh, are you going out, Konoha?” my mother asked me.
“Yeah. I promised I’d go visit a temple with someone.”
My mother’s look turned soft at that, and her lips curved in a happy smile.
“With a friend from school?”
“Er…yeah.”
The thing that had given me sudden pause was that I didn’t know if I should call her a “friend.”
My heart was suddenly fidgety, and I got flustered. Before she could ask me anything else, I hurriedly said, “Be back later,” and left the living room.
When I opened the front door, a sharp, chilly air met my face.
I sucked in a lungful of the first wind of the New Year and peeked into the mailbox.
Oh, there are New Year’s cards.
I picked up the rubber-banded bundle and flicked through them.
This one was from Akutagawa. Written with a brush and ink. Figured…As I looked at the stoic characters, I was impressed. This one was Takeda’s. Her bubble letters and cute drawings were typical Takeda.
There was a postcard from Tohko, too, written in very careful pen strokes. The penmanship and language were nothing that you would expect from someone who ordinarily clattered her chair and threw tantrums, saying, “I’m hungryyy. Write me somethiiiing.” She must have been conscious of my family’s eyes on her. This is what it means, putting up a front.
Tohko had called my house from time to time, and my mother had lauded her. “She’s such a polite girl, very on top of things.” If she found out that Tohko was actually a goblin who tore up books and ate them, might she not topple over?
Although Tohko herself would argue, “I’m not a goblin. I’m a simple book girl.”
“What the…?”
I found a strange postcard, and my hands stopped.
What was this?
There were no words at all, just a creature that looked like a bird with a bulbous body and wings stuck on it. Were the two sticks poking out of its head a beak? But they also looked like horns. The face looked like a cat, and a long tongue was lolling out of its mouth.
It was like a kid’s doodle. Had one of Maika’s classmates sent it?
It was nearly time for my meet-up, so I returned the bundle of postcards to the mailbox and walked off.
“I-Inoue…”
Kotobuki was waiting for me outside a convenience store near the train station, her face bright red. Her hair was tied up, and she wore a shawl over a cute flower-print kimono. Her breath came out white.
“Sorry I’m late! Were you waiting out here? I thought we agreed to meet inside.”
Kotobuki started fidgeting then and muttered, “I just wanted to feel the wind.”
“But aren’t you cold?”
She pursed her lips and answered peevishly, “N-not at all.”
“Oh? Well, let’s go, then.”
“…Okay.”
Huh? What was the matter? Her eyes dropped all of a sudden, and it was like she was disappointed.
Oh…!
I realized what it was and said, “Your kimono is cute.”
Instantly her eyes widened, and she let out a frantic voice.
“My grandmother let me wear it. For New Year’s…We do it every year. Not like this year’s anything special!”
I watched her make excuses, red faced and flapping her sleeves, and my lips curved into a smile.
I didn’t used to understand what Kotobuki was thinking very well, but now it came through just a little—that she was incredibly embarrassed or that she was happy that I’d complimented her.
I felt shy for some reason, and something warm spread through my chest.
As we headed toward the shrine side by side, I said, “I got your New Year’s text.”
She murmured, “I got yours, too.”
With a happy look, her cheeks flushed red.
Every time I saw that gentle, girlish expression so totally opposite to her usual fierce look, my heart fluttered.
We’d exchanged texts a few times since Christmas Eve. Kotobuki’s were always a little bit awkward. But the earnest effort came through, and they had appeal.
In the space of a few days, the distance between us had shrunk just a little.
The shrine was thronging with worshippers.
We got in the back of the line and after thirty minutes finally reached the collection boxes.
We each threw in our coins and clapped our hands together to begin our prayers, standing close to each other.
I prayed that nothing major would happen this year and everything would turn out fine. And as part of that, that Tohko got into college.
When I glanced beside me, Kotobuki had her eyes closed and her eyebrows scrunched tightly together, her mouth pulled into a firm line, praying with the most earnest expression I had ever seen.
It was a harsh look, as if she was angry. I wondered what on earth she was praying for. Must have been a pretty important wish.
While I was still staring at her, Kotobuki opened her eyes.
She noticed me looking at her and instantly turned red.
“Ack! Why’re you looking at me?!”
“I was done.”
“Then you should have said something.”
“You were praying so hard, I thought I shouldn’t. What were you praying for so intensely?”
“I-it’s nothing to do with you! Geez, how could you just stare at a girl’s face…?”
Kotobuki quickly went down some stairs.
She tried to move against the flow of the crowd and was about to get swept away, and her eyes bugged o
ut.
“Ack!”
“Kotobuki—”
I grabbed Kotobuki’s hand and pulled her back.
Her hand trembled slightly in my grip, as if she was surprised.
“I mean, you have to be careful. There’s so many people.”
Kotobuki was looking up at me, her face bright red; then she lowered her gaze shyly and hesitantly squeezed my hand back.
I felt relieved and laughed.
“This way we might manage to not get separated.”
“Y-yeah.”
It was cute how she answered so quietly.
Her fingers were cold and stiff, interlocked with mine. Maybe she was nervous. To be honest, I was pretty embarrassed, too.
We walked slowly like that, following the flow of the crowd.
Her head bent in silence, Kotobuki suddenly said in an almost imperceptible, reedy voice, “Um…I need to ask you something kind of strange.”
“Okay?”
“Do you…have a mole or anything…under your right butt cheek?”
I was surprised by Kotobuki’s unexpected question and turned to look at her. Her face was much, much redder than before, and she scrambled to say something.
“I-it’s not like that! I’m really into mole reading right now and…and I wondered about you.”
“I do have a mole under my butt. But how did you know that?”
“You do?!”
Kotobuki’s face contorted as if she’d just gotten a horrible surprise. Then she scrambled again. “A-a-a-akutagawa told me about it. So you do have a mole. Huh…I see, I see.”
Her face fell further and further until it was sad and bitter.
“I wonder when Akutagawa saw my mole. Maybe during class at the pool. What does it mean if you’ve got a mole under your right butt cheek?”
“What?! Um, it’s…oh! Do you want to go pull our fortunes?”
Kotobuki pulled me over to the counter where they sold fortunes.
“You can’t come to a shrine and not get your fortune. Come on!”
Book Girl and the Wayfarer's Lamentation Page 1