Out of all the inscrutable events descending upon me today, I wondered why Marie chose this moment to make me feel like I was visiting my girlfriend’s house.
I suppose I should have been excited right then, my heartbeat accelerating. But the mood was overwhelmingly lacking, somehow.
Just as I considered taking an afternoon nap to while away the time, Konoha’s face entered my vision, peering down at me.
“What?”
“Oh, um…”
Konoha had lugged a gigantic backpack all the way from our hideout—“just in case there’s something we should take back,” he said. Along the way, Marie packed it full of drinks and other sundries, essentially turning him into the mule in this Grand Canyon expedition.
Given the extraordinary physical skills he showed off yesterday, it was probably nothing to him. But it still rankled my conscience.
“I just, erm…”
Konoha took a drink from his pack and passed it to me.
“You aren’t looking too good, so…I was just wondering if you’re okay.”
I didn’t immediately respond to this random act of kindness, but, realizing this was Konoha’s way of expressing goodwill to his friends, I gladly accepted it.
“Oh, thanks. You better stay hydrated, too.”
“Not too much, though,” Kido said, pointing at me. “Otherwise you’ll end up like him.”
“Awwwhh, leave it, man! I know already!”
“Oh? Well, sorry, then.”
Kido gave me a casual, nonironic pat on the shoulder.
This treatment was exhausting me. Shut-ins like me are delicate creatures. The littlest change in lifestyle can be enough to wreck our health! They could at least be a tiny bit kinder to me.
As we sniped at each other, Marie threw the front door open, craning her head out from the doorway. She wore a tinkling set of keys around her neck, pendant-style.
“Um, sorry I’m late. You can go in now!”
Then she disappeared behind the door again. She must have finished with the tidying up or whatever. Time to get down to today’s real business.
“Cool. Let’s move.”
I stood up. Kido followed me, stretching her arms out.
“Hopefully we’ll discover something new here.”
Our mission today, in general, was to gain some insight on our eye abilities, as well as the riddle behind Marie’s family line. If we could top that off with even a little info on the so-called “other world,” that’d be perfect.
If we could at least learn about Marie’s ancestry, that could help us find some new angles to think about. I brought a hand to the door.
“You think we’ll learn where Hiyori is?”
The words dribbled weakly from Konoha’s lips as he stood to the side.
“Mmm…Hard to say. We pretty much got nothing to go on right now…but I’d like to get some hints, at least. Don’t know until we search, right?”
I slapped Konoha on the back. He nodded briskly.
“Well, here we go…oh.”
As I opened the front door, I was greeted with what looked like a dollhouse blown up to people size.
The room was lined from end to end with bookshelves, each stuffed with dozens of old-looking tomes. I turned my head to and fro to take it all in.
“Huh. I like it. Nice atmosphere.”
Marie fidgeted as she looked toward the floor, happy or embarrassed or both.
“Mom said that my grandfather built this house.”
“Your grandfather? By himself?! That can’t be right, Kido.”
I turned toward Kido, who came in behind me. She took in the view, a look of childlike wonder like none I’d seen from her before erupting across her face.
“…Uh, didn’t you say you’ve been here before?”
“No! I mean, we didn’t go inside that time! But…wow, though. What a room…I’m so jealous, Marie…”
Kido’s flattering review was enough to make Marie say “Tee-hee! Thank you!” her voice still slightly abashed. “It’s been a while, though,” she continued as she plopped down on a window-side chair and took in the view outside.
Kido turned toward me, her face resolute.
“I gotta be honest with you, Shintaro—I wanna live here.”
“Um, that’d be kind of difficult, wouldn’t it?”
“Ohhhh, but…I could get food somewhere…”
Kido began muttering to herself.
Konoha, meanwhile, was already rifling through the bookshelves, his face as stern as I’d ever seen it.
He was contributing to the cause far more than our alleged boss right now.
I watched as Konoha extended a hand toward one volume. He must have found something.
Immediately, he turned toward Marie. “Can…can I see this book?!”
“Hm? Sure. You can read any one you want—”
“Thank you!”
Before Marie could finish, Konoha was already flipping through the pages, his face as stern as before.
“Uh…Hey, what’d you find?”
Konoha remained focused on the book, hands still fervently paging through it as he scanned its contents.
I sidled up to him, curious. The moment I saw the page he had open, I understood why he had suddenly grown so unusually serious.
“Hey…is that…?”
“Yeah. What a surprise.”
The page contained a drawing of an enormous dragon. Next to it, there was a handwritten explanation in English. Konoha’s eyes were drawn to the dragon.
“…That looks so cool.”
My shoulders drooped. I was an idiot for expecting anything from him.
Though, I reasoned, there’s no way we’d find something useful that easily. I knew that. I felt so dumb for giving in to excitement like that.
As I slumped my head, Kido gave me a pat on the shoulder.
“S-Shintaro…I think I found something crazy.”
What is it this time? I thought as I turned around. Kido had something resembling a sketchbook in her hand.
The word SECRET was written on the cover in bold, black lettering.
“Whoa, what’s that…?”
“Yeah, uh, I think she’s been up to some pretty off-the-chain stuff.”
Slowly, she opened to the first page.
It revealed some rather avant-garde artwork of a girl—Marie, probably—running around with a sword.
Maybe she was the hero of some fairy-tale land. Nobility, perhaps, judging by the crown on her head.
She turned the page.
This time, Marie was mounted on top of a dragon-y, lizard-y creature, one with oddly fat legs.
With some creative thought, it could be interpreted as Marie plunging her sword into the dreaded monster.
Her sword was fused with her arm for some reason, no doubt because of some wicked curse placed upon her. Despite the intense battle, the happy smile on Marie’s face left a distinct impression on the viewer.
She turned the page again.
Now Marie was depicted deep in the throes of an intense, exhausting dance.
The feast held in her honor after she slayed that dragon-y thing, perhaps.
But wait. After further review, the dragon from before was dancing with her. One wonders what kind of keen negotiation skills she had, making amends with a dragon after so callously stabbing at it.
Kido, guffawing to herself with every page turn, was having trouble breathing at this point. The only valid conclusion to make was that this sketchbook would achieve absolutely nothing for us.
“Aaaaahhhh! Don’t look at thaaat!”
Marie, still watching the trees outside, finally noticed us. The moment she did, she lunged at us, face red as a cherry.
“Sor…Marie—hih…hih-hih…”
Kido, a keen fan of this epic adventure, was holding her stomach at this point, about ready to fall over.
“I-I was just scribbling and stuff! You don’t have to…Ahhhh! This is soooo embarrassing!”
Marie shouted the words, both hands to her face. It might have been my imagination, but it seemed like her hair began to fan out on either side of her.
“I love how you’re the hero in all this stuff.”
My blurted appraisal made Kido pass out on the floor, her lungs now completely failing her.
“Aaaahhhhhhh!”
Marie screamed, again.
It was amazing, seeing someone’s embarrassing past get exposed in such cruel fashion.
It couldn’t have been easy for Marie. Hopefully it’ll build character, or something.
Kido slithered up to a chair, trying to catch her breath.
But she couldn’t stop flashing back to the pages she saw, erupting into spasms of glee every time, immediately followed by another scream of “Noooooo!!” from the artist.
“So, uh, Marie, do you think there’s a diary or something around here?”
We needed to return to the search. I presented Marie with an out, but she gave me a cold glare instead.
“No! No more weird stuff in here!”
“Um, no! Not your diary! I mean, like, your mom’s diary, or something else important that she wrote. Anything like that?”
Marie’s face softened as she realized she’d jumped to conclusions.
“Hmmm…Oh, I think she wrote a diary, actually…”
“Really?! Where would that be?”
Marie reflected for a moment.
“I know Mom took really good care of it, but…where was it…? On top of the shelves, maybe?”
“Top of the shelf! You hear that, Konoha?”
“Y-yeah!” Konoha replied as he took a peek above each bookshelf.
Sadly, it proved not to be found that easily. “Not there,” Konoha reported sadly as he checked the final shelf.
“Oh…maybe not on top of the shelves…”
“Hey! It’s not the shelves, Konoha!”
“Okay!” he replied.
“Um…the yard…”
“Konoha! The yard!”
“Got it!” Konoha said, tearing off toward the front door.
“…Or not…”
I was starting to expect this. Sorry, Konoha. I’ll buy you some juice later on.
Marie was still hemming and hawing to herself, but really, if there was a diary anywhere here, one place in particular seemed suspicious to me.
“That key around your neck is for the lock on the door, right, Marie?”
“Huh? Um, yes, it is. It used to be Mommy’s, but…”
Marie picked it up. It made a little tinkling sound.
Which meant, naturally, that there were actually two of them on that chain.
One of them was clearly smaller than the other. I could only see one entrance to the place, and I doubt it was simply a spare key.
Its purpose was obvious. When I scanned across the entire room, the only thing with a keyhole I saw was the small desk placed in between the bookshelves.
“The other key’s for that desk over there, isn’t it? Maybe there’s a diary in there…”
It was unlikely. The chances were pretty slim—even if this was Marie we were talking about, if the diary was in that obvious a place, she wouldn’t be having so much trouble remembering its location.
I doubted the diary was in the desk.
Which begged the question: Where was it, then?
“Huh?”
Marie, driven by my words, shifted her gaze between the keys in her hand and the desk several times. A look of shock spread across her face.
“I never noticed at all…”
“Huh…?”
What has this girl been doing for the past hundred years? Oh, right—this was the kind of girl who’d go on a feverish dance with a dragon she tried to stab to death half a second earlier.
There was much to her personality that would resist my perception of common sense. That much was clear.
I took a glance out the window, starting to wonder if she was just tricking us. There, I saw a flash of white zoom past at high speed.
That’s right, I thought. We better get him back here. But just as I did, Marie grabbed the key and began padding over to the desk.
“…Well, I guess he can wait.”
Sorry, Konoha. I’ll treat you to dinner next time. Within the limits of my budget, though.
As I made the promise in my mind, Kido finally regained her breath.
“…Whew. Sorry about that, Shintaro. I’m okay now.”
Um, I uttered in my mind, we’re kind of almost done here.
She was facedown on the floor earlier, breaking out in what looked like a grand mal seizure. Her recovery was quite remarkable.
She did look a bit gaunt, though.
“Yeah, you know, I was thinking that little desk was kind of suspicious. Good job there, Shintaro.”
What is she going on about? Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but I didn’t think her literally ROFLing in front of us led to that revelation.
“…Well, hopefully we can gain something from this diary, at least.”
Presumably we could learn more about Marie’s history than the girl herself would know.
It’d be nice if that led also to something about these eye skills…or even the “other world.”
I, at least, had high hopes.
Anything, even something tiny, would be great. Even if it’s just an eensy little nugget, it might be the thing that links everything together.
An affirmative ka-chink echoed across the room.
“Shintaro! I found it!”
Marie held up a large, dictionary-size book, deep navy blue in color.
It seemed like a pretty thick tome by diary standards.
Padding back to her own perch, Marie dropped the diary on the desk with a loud thud.
There was something almost intimidating about this weighty tome, looking at it up close. It had a presence like some grimoire of lore from an RPG.
How long had it been used for?
If Marie was right, at least several centuries, presumably.
Suddenly, we heard the door open behind us. Turning around, I saw Konoha plodding back inside.
“S-sorry…I couldn’t find it.”
The room fell silent. If consciences made sounds when they were bruised, mine would have unleashed a deafening explosion.
“Oh, uh, about that…”
I hesitated to continue, but Konoha’s eyes were already on the diary, looming on top of the desk.
The air grew tense once more. But Konoha’s expression was one of pure relief.
“Oh, you found it. Great…”
Man, what a nice guy, I thought as pangs of regret beat against my heart. I definitely owe him a meal now.
“Well, there it is, but…You know, Marie, it’d probably be better if you took a look through it first before we started reading…”
It wouldn’t feel very good, pawing over the private events of a family we were unrelated to.
“No,” Marie replied. “No, it’ll be fine. I think it might help all the problems we have get better.”
All the problems we have. In other words, everything that we’ve shared together as a group. Gang. Whatever.
If you asked whether knowing the truth would make us all happy again…well, maybe it wouldn’t.
But if having that knowledge opened up new pathways for us, I think everyone in the gang would want their hands on it. Want the truth.
“All right. Lemme take a look, then.”
Nothing in particular was written on the heavy tome’s cover. It was a pure sea of azure blue.
The other three gathered around me, ready to read on.
I waited for everyone to get in position, then opened the cover.
We, mere humans blessed with the glories of “normalcy,” were lucky. We were oblivious to the facts written in this diary. Until we weren’t.
It was deeper than deep itself, and sadder than sadness itself.
It told of the bizarre “life�
�� of a creature that sat, pondered, and thought.
I still remember how it felt, turning that page.
And I doubt I will ever forget about those women, going forward.
But when I opened the cover, unaware of what was to come, I simply read out the “name” that existed on that first page.
“Azami”
REAPER RECORD III
Day 1014.
The days of endless rain showed no sign of ending. The water dripped its way through the lush, resplendent greenery around me.
The season had changed, the temperature gradually edging higher, but such foul weather for so long a time took its toll on my disposition.
Every time a drop of rain fell before my eyes, it freed the smell of the grass from the ground beneath me, transporting another scent of summer to my nostrils.
“…What is driving that man, anyway?”
Amid the falling rain, my house—still under construction, still looking a tad unshapely—was beginning to take full form.
There, between the mountains of materials and work tools piled up in random fashion, I once again kept my eyes on the form of a single man, smiling as he moved to and fro.
“He can see how much rain there is. Any normal man would rest. And why is he so overconfident like that? He’s human. A weakling. His wounds take days to heal.”
I muttered it to myself a short distance away from my planned residence, inside a meager shack (with bath) built to provide at least the bare minimum of protection from the wind and rain.
Opening up the door it was equipped with, sitting cross-legged on the floor, and watching him was now part of my daily schedule.
If he keeps that up, it’ll be complete before too long.
He was just some simpering kid at first, totally unaware of the ABCs of home building. Now he was moving around like a professional, and it was remarkable to see him in action.
Thanks, of course, to the assistance I provided.
He was all bluff and bluster at first, but soon he was whining at me, carrying on about “don’t you know a lot about building a house” and so on. It was just too pathetic a sight to see, so I wound up teaching him.
I was his personal tutor, in other words, which is why we made such steady progress in such short time.
Then again, he was the one who chopped up all these materials, carried them all here, and assembled them together. By human standards, he had quite a bit of mettle.
The Missing Children Page 7