“Do you remember when we talked in the classroom the day of the culture fair?”
“Yeah. I told you I wanted to be friends.”
I remembered that we had grasped each other’s hands firmly, cooled by the wind in the classroom dyed scarlet by the sunset, and my throat grew hot.
“I told you then that there was something I couldn’t talk to you about, remember? That I might hurt you someday.”
“You did. I remember.”
Even so, I had responded that I didn’t care. That I wanted to be friends for today, even if we fought or parted ways.
Deep in my chest, something grated, scalding me.
“Asakura was the thing I was keeping secret from you. I’ve known her for a long time now, and I’ve heard that there might’ve been something between you two.”
Akutagawa told me about how he’d met Miu the winter of his first year, when he had gone to visit his mother in the hospital. He didn’t hide how he had recognized me when he’d gone on to second year, and we became classmates, and how he’d torn up and thrown away the letters Miu gave him.
“I apologize for not saying anything about Asakura and for tearing up the letters. I’m sorry.”
Akutagawa bowed his head.
“Why…did you do it?”
My voice was feeble and hoarse.
“First, Kazushi will reveal how he met me and try to get you to lower your guard—”
These words of Miu’s shook my heart.
“And I bet he’ll apologize for throwing out my letters.”
“He’ll say they were about things he didn’t want you to see. That he thought it was better if we didn’t see each other because I was suffering from a mental illness. He’ll say that kind of awful nonsense to try and fool you.”
Akutagawa lifted his face and fixed his gaze on me once more.
“I’d convinced myself that she’d written the letters to malign you, so I didn’t want to force you to read them. She’s pretty unstable right now mentally. I wasn’t going to let her see you until she’d calmed down. Because I’d decided that that was best for you and for her.”
After he’d declared this without equivocation, he lowered his eyes in remorse and frowned.
“Maybe my rationalization was wrong. But that was the only way I could protect you and Asakura.”
The fact that it had tortured Akutagawa to keep this a secret from me came through plainly in his voice and expression. But his words resembled Miu’s predictions far too closely, and following directly on my yearning to believe him, I heard Miu’s whisper.
“Kazushi is going to come see you to tell you lies. Don’t believe what he tells you.”
“Not everything that Asakura told me in the hospital is correct. At least, I never pitted Kotobuki against her, and Kotobuki never did anything wrong to her. I just want you to believe that.”
“He’ll cover for Kotobuki, too, and try to make you think I’m the only one at fault.”
I wanted to believe Akutagawa.
But if I did, that would mean doubting Miu.
Why were both Kotobuki and Akutagawa telling me that Miu was a liar? She wasn’t! She wasn’t a liar!
I didn’t know how to contain the prickly feelings that raged inside me. I felt like I was about to cut loose and say horrible things. I had trouble breathing, and there was nothing I could do but bow to those feelings.
“Sorry—I need some time.”
I couldn’t possibly respond right now. It had taken all my strength to tell him that.
Akutagawa looked at me, his expression tinged with gloom.
“All right,” he murmured with difficulty and then went home.
Left by myself, I curled up on the bed, emotions burning through my chest.
The next day we weren’t able to talk in class.
All we did was offer each other an awkward “morning…” before quickly parting ways and not speaking another word after that. We even ate lunch separately.
When she saw us acting like that, Kotobuki’s friend Mori came over to talk to me worriedly.
“Inoue, did you have a fight with Akutagawa?”
“It’s not like that…but sort of.”
She must have sensed from my tone of voice that it was better not to touch on the topic, and she quickly changed the subject.
“Oh right—Nanase’s back in the hospital again. Would you go visit her for me, Inoue?”
“…Yeah, I saw her yesterday…I’ll go again today after school.”
Mori’s eyes popped.
“What?! R-really? So things’re going well with you and Nanase? Ha-ha…really! No reason to worry then, huh? Good, good. When Nanase gets back to school, I’ll have to do something nice for her.”
She went away, laughing in embarrassment. “Say hi to her for me.”
Her cheerful voice made my heart creak with pain.
When I stopped by her room at the hospital with black tea–flavored pudding, Kotobuki looked like she was curled up in her curtained-off bed, sleeping.
The girl she shared the room with called out to her, “Nanase, your boyfriend’s here.”
The white curtain swung open instantly, and Kotobuki stuck her head out, her eyes bright red. Her eyelids were a little puffy, too. She’d probably been crying last night. Guilt dug at my chest, and my breathing became strained.
The other girl left the room, and Kotobuki and I were alone.
“I’m sorry I didn’t answer your message. And about yesterday…I’m really sorry I didn’t listen to your side of it.”
“It…makes sense.”
Kotobuki hung her head.
“I’ve been hiding Asakura from you this whole time. And I did say harsh stuff to her…”
In a low voice, I asked, “When did Miu contact you?”
“At the beginning of December. I got a message from her on my phone.”
“On your phone? I wonder how she got your number.”
Kotobuki faltered.
Maybe she was wondering if it was okay to talk about Akutagawa.
“Did Akutagawa give it to her, maybe?”
When I murmured that, she looked up in surprise and said forcefully, “No! Akutagawa would never think to do something like that! I’m convinced Asakura took his cell phone and looked it up all on her own!”
She bit her lip and hung her head, perhaps feeling that she had gone too far.
Then she looked up at me cautiously.
“…Do you know about Akutagawa and Asakura?”
“Akutagawa came to my house yesterday to talk about it.”
Pain colored my voice. Every time I talked about it, a bitter taste spread through my mouth.
“What did he say?”
“The same thing you did. That not everything Miu says is the truth.”
“And what did you think?”
I didn’t say anything.
Kotobuki’s face became sad. She saw the bag in front of me. It was identical to the one I’d given to her with the pudding, and her eyes looked hurt. She murmured, “Are you…going to see Asakura after this?”
I couldn’t answer.
“Konoha! You came to see me again! Hooray!”
Miu’s eyes sparkled, and she leaned out of bed.
“Be careful! You’re gonna fall, Miu.”
I rushed to catch her in my arms, and she rubbed against my body cloyingly, giggling.
“It’s fine. See? You’ll catch me.”
When Miu teasingly brought her face close to mine, the sweet fragrance of soap that had always wafted from her tickled again at my nostrils.
Suddenly a sharp pain shot through my neck, and I let out a cry of surprise. Miu pulled away from me, put her long nails to her lips, and smiled cutely.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was holding on too hard.”
Her long, sharp nails—like a cat’s claws—were out of sync with her short, boyish hair and plain pajamas. They were strangely alluring.
“Actually, I can’t cut my n
ails very well by myself. So I just let them grow out. I’m really sorry. Did it hurt?”
Her eyes were transparent as she looked at me in concern and her lips a faint pink as she murmured. Even though her hair looked like a boy’s, she appeared even more adult than before, and her pure white skin and large eyes exuded a charm that threatened to drag me under.
“No, it’s fine,” I answered, and she laughed in relief.
“Good. Y’know, I’m fine with walking now as long as I’ve got a cane. Right after I transferred to this hospital, I fell over constantly. I practiced over and over on the stairs and in the halls…because I had a goal.”
“A goal?”
“I wanted to see you, Konoha.”
Miu’s eyes crinkled as she gently smiled. Her cheerful, contented-looking expression made my heart constrict helplessly.
Miu looked down at my hands and let out a cry of joy.
“Ohhh! That’s black tea pudding! I’m right, aren’t I? You remembered my favorite store.”
“Y-yeah. Can you eat it on your own?”
Miu giggled again.
“That’s nothing. I can even write, although it’s messy. And I can use cell phones and computers. But I would appreciate it if you could take off the lid.”
The word “cell phones” made my heart skip a beat.
I took the pudding she held out to me in both hands, and as I pulled off the lid, I asked, “Do you…have a cell phone?”
She nodded yes.
“You never liked phones, did you?”
She had said she hated the sound of the ringer—that it was unpleasant and seemed to just intrude suddenly on her world. So she didn’t want me to call her. That’s what she’d told me before.
I passed Miu the pudding, and she gently scooped it up with a plastic spoon.
“That’s true. But with a cell phone, you can put it on vibrate and turn the ringer off, and texts aren’t that different from letters, so…Plus, it’s easier than holding a pen to write. Oh, you’ve got a cell phone, too, don’t you, Konoha? You have to tell me your number later.”
“…Okay.”
Had Miu sent a message to Kotobuki’s phone?
Had she stolen a look at her number off Akutagawa’s phone?
“Mmmm, this place really does have the best pudding.”
Miu was eating with a contented look on her face.
Just then I noticed a book sticking out from underneath the blankets, and I thought my heart would stop.
A thin hardcover with a sky-blue jacket. It was my—Miu Inoue’s—book!
The core of my body trembled, as if freezing cold water had been dumped over my head.
She must have noticed my horrified stare. Miu set her pudding down on the bedside table and slipped the book out from underneath the covers.
Like the Open Sky—by Miu Inoue.
She hugged the book to her chest, letting me see the title, and an easy smile came over her face.
The cover showed a picture of the sky, but it had been bleached in the sun, changing its color slightly. The pages had also turned yellow, warped and swollen, and tattered.
“I’ve reread this book so many times,” Miu whispered as she softly ran her finger over the title and the name of the author. “Really. So, so many times. I might’ve read it…a hundred times.”
My throat constricted tightly, sweat beaded at my temples, and it became difficult for me to breathe. Miu was staring straight at me with her catlike eyes. Her cherry-colored lips were ever so slightly curved in a smile.
I felt like a mouse being chased by a cat.
“It’s such a wonderful, beautiful story. Don’t you think?”
I forced the words out of my bone-dry throat.
“You read it that many times? I thought you might be angry.”
“Why?”
The air was weighing heavy and dark.
“Because…”
Because I stole your dream.
Because I got chosen for the prize you wanted.
Isn’t that why you jumped off the roof right in front of me that day?
The words tumbled through my brain.
I couldn’t ask her—
“Why so quiet all of a sudden? Is it weird that I read your book? I actually really like it. The main character Itsuki and her childhood friend Hatori are both really likable. You’ve got talent, Konoha.”
Miu’s voice was upbeat and kind, and she was smiling innocently, so there wasn’t even the slightest indication that she cared about me getting the prize over her—but even so, I couldn’t push aside the anxiety welling up within me.
I swallowed several times and then said, “Miu, why did you jump? What happened to you?”
Still hugging the yellowed book to her chest fondly, she smiled even more demurely, even more openly.
“What do you think?”
“I have no idea.”
Her smiled disappeared, and her clear eyes wavered sadly.
You probably wouldn’t understand, Konoha…
Faced with the same gaze with which she had once murmured those words to me on the roof, I felt like my heart was ripping apart.
“I’m sorry. I really don’t know. So please tell me…Why did you do something like that?”
At my fervent appeal, Miu whispered quietly, “What do you think it is that Campanella wished for?”
At that point she turned toward the window and fell silent.
* * *
I wonder what true happiness is.
I’m pretty sure, at least, that it’s not having a lot of money or succeeding at work or marrying the right kind of guy.
After all, my folks are always complaining or getting angry or bemoaning everything, and they don’t look happy at all.
And to say that you’d be happy as long as you had love, even if you’re poor, is probably wrong, too.
After all, she can’t be satisfied with love alone. She swears through tears that life is hard and enormously painful, and she calls me all the time to say, “I want money. I want money.”
I wonder what happiness is.
I wonder where I would have to go to find it.
When I think about stuff like that, my heart goes pitch-black all of a sudden, and I get so scared I start shaking, and it feels like my head is going to crack open.
Beside me, you smile flippantly.
I’m sure you’ve never wondered what happiness is.
What do you want to do with your life? What kind of person do you hope you’ll be when you grow up?
When I asked you that, you were instantly flustered, and you thought it over a full five minutes before you looked at me cautiously and said, “…I want to be a tree.”
That was your answer.
Idiot! You’re such an idiot! I want to beat you to death, you’re such an idiot!
How can you be a middle schooler and want to be a tree when you grow up?! That’s not human!
If you want to be a tree so badly, then go into the forest and hang yourself and turn yourself into fertilizer. Just quit being a human completely!
Whenever I see your moronic face, there are times I get so annoyed it kills me.
At those times, or when I get a phone call or when the trash can gets full, I always do it.
When I do it, my heart hurts like it’s being crushed, I start sweating, I get extra sensitive, as if my entire body is one big nerve ending, and it feels crawly and burning.
Then there’s dizziness. And nausea. And whatever.
When I get through it, the inside of my head is suddenly sunny, all the dirty stuff has gone away, and I feel perfectly clean.
Confidence surges up in me that I’m a strong, clever, composed, wonderful person, and my heart is on fire. Then the stories come to me one after another and beg to be written.
That’s why I keep doing it.
I feel like the dizziness is gradually getting worse, but why should I care?
If I don’t do it, I won’t be me anymore.
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She’s trying desperately to hide it, but she’s pretty scared. Wow, this one’s weak.
This’ll be a cakewalk.
B, don’t talk to me! I’m sick of this!
* * *
I couldn’t talk to Akutagawa the next day, either.
At lunchtime, I took my lunch box and went up to the book club’s room in the western corner of the third floor.
The dusty room buried under mounds of books was empty. Outside the window I saw leaden clouds. A strong wind was beating against it, and the window frame was rattling.
Even after I unwrapped my lunch box and took off the lid, I didn’t feel hungry. As I looked down absently at the arrangement of colorful side dishes, I wondered if it was always going to be like this with Akutagawa, and my chest ached.
Akutagawa had told me at the very beginning, “There are some things I can’t talk about.”
He hadn’t lied to me.
When I’d become friends with Akutagawa at the culture fair, I’d been truly happy. I felt as if I’d overcome the cowardly part of myself that had tried to avoid getting close to others up until now. The moment we shook hands, I swelled with joy that our feelings were in sync, and the sun had felt warm as it sank below the horizon.
Akutagawa had always been a good, honest friend. I knew that.
But if I believed what he said, that would make Miu a liar.
When Miu transferred into my class in the third grade, the girls said she was a liar and stayed away from her. But really she wasn’t. Miu hadn’t told any lies. Ever since then, I was the only one who had wanted to be understanding of Miu.
But still Miu had said I would never understand and then jumped off the roof. And now she was lobbing incomprehensible questions at me.
Book Girl and the Wayfarer's Lamentation Page 5