Book Girl and the Scribe Who Faced God, Part 2

by Mizuki Nomura

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  There’s a story I want to write, Kana.

  It’s a sweet story, one that will instantly make any stomach full, no matter how empty, white and pure like the manna that rained down on the people who wandered the desert.

  God poured manna down on them, gave them hope, and kept demonstrating his unwavering love until they reached the promised land.

  It would be so nice, Kana, if I could write a gentle, happy story like that someday.

  And if I did, Kana?

  Do you think I would be able to confess everything I ought to, beg your forgiveness, and go through that narrow gate with courage?

  Prologue—Memories for an Introduction: the Last Thing She Whispered

  To you whom I loved as much as this, good-bye.

  There was a girl who, with those words, parted from the person she loved best.

  If she loved him, then why couldn’t they be together?

  Why did she need to so gently shake free of the hand she’d held?

  Why did she turn her back on him when he was gazing at her in despair, and then move toward the narrow gate all alone?

  Could they not have walked together hand in hand, on a broad, bright road?

  When I was seventeen, her words and her behavior seemed inexplicable to me and simply made me sad. I couldn’t accept it.

  Good-bye.

  Around the same time, the person who had educated me fixed me with a clear gaze and she, too, whispered that word inside a shower of pure white flower petals.

  Good-bye.

  It was a warm smile, melting into the gentle, golden light of sunset, that resurfaced in my aching chest.

  Slender shoulders; delicate limbs; long, wispy braids swaying.

  Her back never turning around.

  Her voice, so gentle it was heartbreaking, echoing again and again in my ears.

  Good-bye.

  You were more important to me than anyone.

  Chapter 1—The Murderous Desire You Trigger in Me

  “Here you go. Like I promised.”

  When I slowly dropped the peach-colored phone strap of the woven ball into her palm, Kotobuki’s face curved into a joyful smile.

  “Th-thanks.”

  “Sorry it’s so late,” I apologized a tiny bit sheepishly, and she shook her head so violently it sent her hair flying.

  “No way! It’s really cute!”

  She squeezed it with a little smile, and then she slooowly opened her hand again, picked it up in her fingertips, and dangled it in front of her face. She went on gazing at it, enchanted.

  The morning classroom was filled with an easy atmosphere. Clear light streamed in from the windows, making Kotobuki’s face shine brightly.

  People would start filtering into the classroom in greater numbers soon, but it looked like Kotobuki wasn’t paying attention. She looked up at me and her cheekbones were ever so slightly pink.

  “Did… you hold on to this phone strap the whole time?”

  “Yeah. It was supposed to be a souvenir from my trip over the summer, but I forgot to give it to you. Like that postcard you were supposed to send me over the summer.”

  When I said that, she pursed her lips a little.

  “Come on. I mean… you thought I was an awful person. You hated me.”

  “That’s not true. In fact, it was more like you hated me. So I thought you might not like it if I brought you a souvenir.”

  “B-but no! I didn’t hate you, it’s just—I-I would get nervous and look really intimidating—even when I tried to talk to you, the words didn’t come out very well, and—hate you? No way. I mean, this whole time I’ve—”

  It was cute how she was denying it so frantically, and the inside of my chest felt ticklish. Feeling happy, I laughed.

  “I know that now.”

  When I said that, Kotobuki’s face calmed as well, and she dropped her head shyly. “Good.”

  She squeezed the phone strap in both hands, cradling it.

  “You picked this out for me.”

  “I did.”

  “Were you thinking about me when you chose it?”

  “Yeah. I thought this color would suit you.”

  Kotobuki looked even more embarrassed, the corners of her mouth relaxing, and in a tiny voice, she whispered, “I… like pink.”

  Then, her cheeks still red, she asked, “But what made you think to buy me a souvenir? I was so off-putting back then.”

  She glanced up at me, her eyes charged with expectation.

  My voice stuck.

  Something bitter had mingled suddenly with my glowing, treacly emotions.

  —Because Tohko said we should buy souvenirs for everyone.

  Smiling kindly, using a tone like an older sister worrying about her little brother, she said it was important to build up plenty of little gestures for the people I talked to every day.

  With a scratchy sensation deep in my chest, I opened my mouth to speak.

  “Because I started yelling and left so suddenly that time I went to visit you in the hospital. It was to make up for that…”

  I saw Kotobuki was disappointed, and I hurried to add, “And then I thought it would be great if I could get to know you better because of it.”

  Instantly, a syrupy light came into her eyes. Kotobuki turned to one side in embarrassment.

  “Y-you don’t have to lie. I’m just happy that you bought it for me and held on to it all this time.”

  The word lie sent a stab through me.

  But—

  “I’ll treasure it forever.”

  Kotobuki lifted her face and smiled, and instantly my clenched heart was filled once more with something gentle.

  Her pure, straightforward eyes devoid of any betrayal or scheming, simply intent, looking only at me—

  I’d been saved by those eyes.

  When I returned home from Ryuto’s house yesterday at my lowest point, Kotobuki had been the one who held and supported me as I cried.

  “You don’t have to write anymore.

  “… Even if you don’t write novels… I’ll stay with you.”

  As fat tears rolled down my face, she told me that. I had felt indescribably elated.

  Until then, I’d thought that I would never feel for Kotobuki the intense emotions that I’d had for Miu.

  But when I was with Kotobuki, courage welled up in me. The tenderness I felt toward her awkward kindness, toward her rough and fervent words, came from the heart.

  Reminiscent of exactly the calm, peaceful life that I wanted.

  If I was with Kotobuki, I could be stronger.

  So I wasn’t going to lose my way. It didn’t matter if I never became an author.

  If I could walk unhurriedly down the broad path that everyone took, under a bright sun, smiling with Kotobuki, supporting each other, still Konoha Inoue, I knew I would have no greater joy.

  “You want to go home together today?”

  “Sure.” She nodded and then shifted her eyes away in embarrassment. “Oh, Mori’s here with everyone. I’m gonna go now, okay?”

  She gave a little wave and then moved a
way while stealing glances back at me. It was adorable.

  “You guys look like you’ve relaxed a lot.”

  When I turned around, Akutagawa’s eyes were soft.

  “I was worried, since you’ve been out of school.”

  “I’m sorry… Thank you for worrying about me so much. And for bringing Miu out.”

  “Oh, I was just an escort. It was Asakura’s idea to go see you.”

  Akutagawa’s easy smile touched his mature lips.

  Miu and Akutagawa had both helped me for sure…

  When we parted ways at the coffee shop, I hadn’t had a clue what I should do. I’d felt empty and on the verge of snapping. But today I could tell Akutagawa how I felt and be honest.

  “No, I was glad when you told me to stop and think. Thanks to you, I finally found an answer,” I declared cheerfully. “I’m not going to be an author after all. I’m not writing any more novels.”

  In contrast to my buoyancy, the smile disappeared from Akutagawa’s face and his expression grew slightly uneasy.

  “I see… If that’s what you’ve decided, it’s not my place to say anything. But are things going to be okay with Sakurai?”

  Instantly the skin on my entire body prickled, as if something cold had been pressed to the back of my neck.

  Ryuto!

  Like those of a ferocious wild dog, his eyes grew until my mind filled with a rush of fresh, bright red blood, and the sound of his voice whispering over the phone echoed in my ears.

  “So Kotobuki’s gonna be a problem… huh?”

  His low voice charged with irritation.

  “If you don’t break up, I dunno what I’m gonna do. I might mess her up bad and break her.”

  He’d said it coldly, thickly, spelling out each word to make sure I understood.

  I’d called him back on his cell phone immediately after. But no matter how many times I tried, I only got his voice mail and never got hold of him.

  If something really were to happen to Kotobuki… My guts twisting with worry, I called Kotobuki’s cell phone.

  “Inoue? What’s wrong?”

  As soon as I heard the surprise in her voice, I sank to the floor with relief.

  “I was worried about you.”

  “C’mon, it’s still early. I’m fine.”

  “How much farther to your house?”

  “Um, about thirty minutes?”

  “Let’s talk until you get there, then.”

  “Wha—? Okay!”

  “And let’s go to school together tomorrow, too.”

  “H-hold on. This is so—did something happen, Inoue?” Kotobuki had asked in a rush, concern in her voice.

  “I want to be with you.”

  I said it with such anxiety in my voice that she was silent for one second, then two, then—

  “O-okay. If that’s what you want, okay,” she’d whispered bluntly, embarrassed.

  I kept on talking, as if a dark shadow were hunting me, until Kotobuki reached home.

  After we hung up, my hand had been cold and stiff, and my entire body was soaked in sweat.

  I called Ryuto’s phone again several times after that, but never got hold of him. Each time I was connected to his voice mail, my heart leaped and then a shiver went down my spine.

  When I lay down in bed, I saw only bad visions and I was seized several times by the impulse to call Kotobuki and make sure she was safe.

  Even when morning finally came, I was in no mood to savor my breakfast slowly and I arrived at our meeting spot thirty minutes early.

  I waited, stomping my feet and breathing in white clouds, when through the mist of morning, Kotobuki appeared with my white scarf wound around her neck. My nostrils flared and I thought I might cry.

  Inoue…

  Bashful, Kotobuki had called out to me, her cheeks as red as apples, her eyes shining vibrantly. She seemed very happy.

  The instant I saw that look on her face, I felt as if a heavy stone that had been slung across my shoulders had melted away into nothing.

  Thank god.

  Thank god Kotobuki was here.

  I’d been so anxious, but just having Kotobuki walking beside me, my nerves eased and my heart grew stronger.

  That was how we arrived at school.

  The courage Kotobuki had given me still lingered in my heart, supporting me firmly.

  I couldn’t believe that Ryuto had said those words as an idle threat.

  Whenever I remembered the voice he’d uttered them in, his face filled with madness, my body shrank even now. Anxiety caressed my heart like a knife.

  I had to protect Kotobuki.

  “I have a favor to ask, Akutagawa.”

  I confessed that I thought Ryuto might do something to Kotobuki.

  Akutagawa’s face grew steelier as I watched.

  “I’m going to be with Kotobuki as much as I can until I can talk to Ryuto, but would you mind keeping an eye on her, too?”

  “No problem.”

  “Thank you. I’ve asked a lot of favors from you lately. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine. You almost waited too long to ask. You take on too much on your own. I’m not too perceptive, so if you don’t say something early on, I can’t help.”

  He said it with an earnest face, and though I was happy, I was also baffled.

  “… I think you try to do everything on your own more than I do, Akutagawa.”

  “I don’t mean to…”

  Akutagawa knit his brows. I smiled warmly.

  “If you insist, then. If you run into any problems, tell me, okay? I’m not that observant, either.”

  When I said that, Akutagawa’s face softened. “Sure.”

  The bell rang and everyone went back to their seats in a flurry. I started to walk back to mine, too.

  “Inoue.”

  “Yeah?”

  I stopped and turned around. After a hesitant look passed through his eyes, Akutagawa asked, “… Did you and Amano talk things out?”

  My chest pinched tight.

  Akutagawa was looking at me, pained. It struck me that he was reflecting exactly what was on my own face.

  “I’m glad that you chose the path of not writing and that you’re prepared to get into it with Sakurai. But won’t that mean things are going to get even worse with you and Amano?”

  The words stuck in my throat, my breathing grew strained, and I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t meet Akutagawa’s gaze fully.

  Our teacher came in, and we both turned our eyes away and sat at our desks.

  “… Did you and Amano talk things out?”

  The suffocating feeling continued throughout class, as if my throat were blocked up. Akutagawa’s words lingered in my mind.

  I hadn’t made a decision on my relationship with Tohko yet.

  The thing she had wanted from me.

  That I would write the story her dead mother should have written.

  But that was impossible.

  I wasn’t Tohko’s mother and I couldn’t write the story Tohko was hoping for.

  These past few days, I’d found out a lot about Tohko. That her father had been an editor. That her mother had ambitions of being an author. That they had both died in a car accident. About the relationship between the Amanos and Ryuto’s mother, Kanako. How Kanako treated Tohko, the memento of her friends.

  How Tohko had lived in Kanako’s house.

  “She looks unfriendly, but she’s actually a nice person.

  She let me live here. She’s really a good person.”

  “Welcome home, Aunt Kanako!”

  Tohko, her feverish body recovering from illness, greeting Kanako at the door as if she was overjoyed to see her.

  The author Kanako Sakurai, who had silently gone by Tohko without as much as a glance in her direction.

  I’d been unable to do anything that day.

  Anger had surged into me, making the blood in my body boil; my chest had hurt as if it were tearing itself apart; I’d been filled with a desire
to scream—and yet I’d been unable to give voice to a single word.

  I’d been unable to do anything at all for Tohko.

  “Those two… are always like that. Tohko says somethin’ and Kanako ignores her. It’s been that way ever since… Tohko came to stay at our house.”

  I’d been unable to tell her how bizarre it was to smile at someone treating you like you don’t exist when you’re right in front of them. I was so angry I was shaking—and yet I’d been unable to say it. And I hadn’t been able to say to Kanako, Why do you ignore Tohko? Don’t you think you’re taking things a little far when she’s lived in the same house as you for so many years?

  Tohko and Kanako had created their own world in that cramped space, one just for the two of them, and I’d been unable to enter it, as if I were merely reading words printed in a book.

  “You’re the one who let her dream, and now you’re runnin’ away?”

  “You gotta write, Konoha.”

  Ryuto had said that if I wrote, something would change. That I was Tohko’s author.

  I couldn’t answer that plea.

  Not even if Tohko had been at my side, holding my hand whenever I started to cry and helping me to stand back up for the last two years, hoping for exactly that.

  It was thanks to Tohko that I’d managed to come this far despite stumbling so many times.

  But I couldn’t grant Tohko’s wish.

  I couldn’t become an author and I couldn’t write a novel! Even if it meant I was ungrateful, even if it meant I was selfish, that was the one thing I couldn’t do!

  I couldn’t!

  I felt like I was losing my mind with the pangs that seemed to beat against my skull. Tohko had betrayed me.

  But I had betrayed Tohko, too. Tohko who had unfailingly given me more warmth and kindness than I could measure.

  It was probably because I wore such a gloomy expression that Akutagawa apologized to me during the break.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you agonize over it.”

  “It’s okay. Tohko and I… we’re done.”

  Done—I guess that’s what we were.