How did I look, in light of this rule?
In order to lose my life to this phenomenon, I would have to have lived in this town at least once before in my life. And then either I would have to have been in third-year Class 3 at North Yomi myself, or someone within two degrees of me would have had to. But that wasn’t the case.
When my mother was in third-year—I know this goes without saying, but—I didn’t exist yet. When Reiko was in third-year, I was born in this town in the spring of that year, but the connection between Reiko and me was aunt to nephew, which is three degrees. So that means I was outside the range of the “disasters.” Even if it extended to my mom, Ritsuko, it shouldn’t have affected me…
In July, fifteen years ago, my mother died; and I, her only child, spent the rest of my life in Tokyo with my father. Without the slightest connection to third-year Class 3 at North Yomi. Then, this April, I’d started my last year of middle school and come to this town for the first time…
…It’s impossible.
Vmmmm…A mystifyingly deep, low-frequency sound revved up. What’s that? A momentary flash of anxiety went through me, but even that vanished soon enough.
It’s impossible, I reassured myself.
It was, indeed, impossible for me to be “the casualty.”
I was certain that Kazami and Sakuragi had assured themselves of that in our conversation that day when they’d come to visit me at the hospital.
Yes, their questions that day had been…
Is this your first time living in Yomiyama?
I just thought maybe you’d lived here, even if it was a long time ago.
Did you ever stay for very long?
I had thought the questions were kind of strange, but that was how the two of them had felt out the possibility that I, the new transfer student, might be “the casualty.”
And at the end of it all, Kazami had asked to shake my hand.
“That was part of the test, too.”
Mei had told me that. That was before summer break had started.
“If you shake hands with ‘the casualty’ the first time you meet them, their hand is supposed to be incredibly cold. That’s what people say. But I heard the story is kind of suspect. Mr. Chibiki says it’s just one of the lame embellishments that got tacked on later, and there’s not much credibility behind it.”
But suppose I actually was “the casualty” for this year and that Kazami and Sakuragi had realized it that day. What had they been planning to do about it?
Mei gave the answer to this question that had gripped me.
“If that had been the case, I think that once you came to school in May, they would have made you the one ‘not there’ instead of me.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. And everyone would ignore the ‘extra person’ who shouldn’t have been there in the first place. There would be a nice symmetry in that. ’Cause that’s got to be way more effective than making some random person ‘not there’ instead.”
“And then the ‘disasters’ wouldn’t happen?”
“Probably not.”
“So then…” I hit her with a new question that had risen all on its own. “What if we eventually find out who ‘the casualty’ is? If we started treating them like they’re ‘not there’ right away…”
“I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t work.”
Mei shot me down blithely.
“The ‘disasters’ have already started. So no matter how we try to bring things into balance now, it’s too late.”
2
It was the fourth day of summer break, the night of July 25, when I spoke to my father Yosuke in far-off India for the first time in quite a while.
“Hey, there. You’re on summer break now, aren’t you? How are you doing?”
The first words out of my father’s mouth were as carefree as ever, since he was ignorant of everything going on.
“I’m doing okay, I guess.”
And I replied in the same tone I always did. I had the feeling that it wouldn’t be right to tell him about what was going on here. There was also the fact that I didn’t think it would accomplish anything even if I did tell him.
“Incidentally, Koichi, do you know what the day after tomorrow is?”
When he asked me that, my heart skipped for a second. But I did my best to answer as if it was nothing.
“Wow, so you remembered, huh?” I retorted.
My father’s voice got ever so slightly louder. “Of course I did.”
The day after tomorrow—July 27—was the anniversary of her death. My mother, Ritsuko, who had died fifteen years ago in this very town.
“You’re in Yomiyama right now, aren’t you?” my father asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’re not going to go back to Tokyo?”
“Are you telling me to go visit her grave for you, all by myself?”
“No, I’m not saying you should do anything extravagant. We didn’t set anything up ahead of time anyway.”
“Yeah. I was wondering what I should do, too…”
My mother’s remains weren’t in Yomiyama: they were kept in the Sakakibara family grave in Tokyo. Every year, my father and I had gone to visit her grave together. As far back as my memories went, we’d never once missed a year.
“I was thinking about going back home by myself, even if it’s just for a couple days…”
I had also tried to think up a way to stay in Tokyo the whole summer break, not “just for a couple days.” Because if that got me out of Yomiyama, I wouldn’t have to worry about calamities befalling me during that time, at least. And yet—
“I don’t think I’m going to, though,” I told him. “Mom was born here, after all, and this is where she died. So I figure I don’t need to go all the way to Tokyo just to visit her grave.”
“That’s certainly true,” my father backed me up instantly. “Say hi to your grandma and grandpa for me. I’ll call them myself soon.”
“Okay.”
The reason I wasn’t going back to Tokyo for summer break. The biggest one was…Maybe it really was because of Mei. I couldn’t help feeling some resistance to the idea of leaving her behind in this town while I got myself “out of range.”
Another reason was that I kept thinking about the class camping trip in August. Wasn’t I obligated to go and be involved in anything that would put a stop to the “disasters”? That feeling was getting stronger, though only half-articulated.
“Hey, Dad?” I’d thought of something, the one issue I wanted to take this chance to ask him about, and I changed my tone slightly. “Can I ask you about Mom?”
“Hm? She was a beauty, your mother was. And she had excellent taste in men.”
“That’s not what I…”
The last time I’d talked with my father, I had touched on the subject of third-year Class 3 at North Yomi, but it didn’t seem to trigger any memories for him. Did that mean that my mother had never talked to him about “the curse of third-year Class 3”? Or maybe that she had told him, but he’d forgotten? There was no way I could know which it was.
“Have you ever seen a picture of Mom from middle school?”
I could almost sense my father cocking his head at my question on the other end of the call. “Weren’t you asking about Ritsuko’s time in middle school before, too?”
“I’m going to the same school she did, so I guess it just…”
“I’m pretty sure she showed me her graduation yearbook when we were engaged. Her high school one, too, I think. She was a beauty, your mother.”
“Are those yearbooks in Tokyo?”
“Yeah. Though they’re probably in storage.”
“Are there any other photos?”
“Hm?”
“Any other photos of Mom besides her yearbook. Did she leave any photos from when she was in middle school?”
“I don’t think I threw any away…But were there any photos of her in middle school besides the yearbook? Hm. She wasn’t really
the type to treasure photos like that.”
“So then—” I had to force the question out. “You never saw that picture? The one showing everyone in her class on the day she graduated from middle school?”
“Well, now…”
There was a silence that lasted several seconds. The signal crackled faintly, kkssh. Finally—“What about it?”—came my father’s wary reply.
I stuttered, “Um-m-m…I mean, I heard it was kind of a weird picture. Like, a paranormal photo or something.”
“A paranormal photo?” My father’s voice sounded ever so slightly annoyed. “I don’t know how a rumor like that got started, but really, Koichi. You’re taking something like that seriously? I didn’t think you would fall for talk about paranormal photos…”
“No, I just…I mean…”
“…Hm?”
And then my father’s tone changed.
“Hold on. Wait a second, Koichi. Hm-m-m. Now that you mention it, maybe Ritsuko did tell me something along those lines a long time ago.”
“Really?” My grip on the phone tightened. “What did she say?”
“She told me she had a disturbing photograph. Showing a ghost or something like that. And…right—from when she was in middle school…”
“Did you ever see it?”
“No.” My father lowered his voice dramatically. “I just tuned it out, mostly. I didn’t say I wanted to see it or ask her to show it to me or anything. Besides, she said she hated having it nearby, so she’d left it at her parents’ house.”
“Here?” I squeaked inadvertently. “You’re saying it’s in this house?”
“Well, I don’t know if it’s still there.”
“Right…sure.”
As I replied, I thought, I have to ask Grandma about this.
Maybe it was in the room my mother had used before she got married, or maybe it had been put away in storage. Somewhere like that. Or maybe her old stuff was still around. And maybe it would have…
“Hey, Koichi, has anything strange happened out there?” my father asked. I guess he must have picked up on my weird behavior.
“Nope, nothing. Everything’s fine,” I replied instantly. “Just, you know, it’s a little boring, I guess. Oh—but I’ve got a couple friends here, and next month we’re going on a class camping trip, so there’s that.”
“…I see.”
My father’s tone was unusually reserved.
“Your mother really was a captivating person, you know. My feelings for her haven’t changed in the slightest, even now. So, you know, Koichi, you’re very…”
“I know, I know.”
Unnerved somehow, I cut him off. If he were about to tell me, “I love you, son,” I would have to start worrying that the heat in India had started to affect his brain or something.
“I’ll talk to you later,” I said. And, as my thumb was feeling for the button to end the call on my cell phone, I added lightly, “Thanks, Dad.”
3
Teshigawara called to summon me—“We need to talk. Can you come meet me in a few minutes?”—early the next week. On the afternoon of the anniversary of my mother’s death, of all things.
I was kind of reluctant to agree right away, which made Teshigawara toss off a flip comment. “What, you got a date with Mei?” What an airhead—or maybe just a flip-flopper…But I guess by now I totally understood his reasons, and I couldn’t really work up the energy to gripe about it.
The place he’d told me to meet him was a café near school called “Inoya.” It was over in the Tobii area. I don’t know why, but he said Mochizuki was with him.
He wanted to talk to me in person about whatever this issue was. If I actually did have a date, I should bring her along, since this was something that concerned everyone in the class…That was as much as he told me, so how could I not go?
I got directions to the place and left the house without any further ado.
Under the blazing sun of true summer, I made my way to Tobii on the bus. Then, dripping in sweat, I followed the directions Teshigawara had given me. It probably took me close to an hour to get there. And then, on the first floor of a building that stood facing a road running alongside the Yomiyama River, looking a little too fashionable for the area, was “Inoya.” Apparently the place was a café by day and sold alcohol at night.
Desperate to escape the heat, I rushed inside. As soon as the relief of the moderate air-conditioning hit me—
“’Sup. We’ve been waiting for you, Sakaki.”
Teshigawara lifted a hand and waved me over to the table where the two sat. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt with a garish pineapple motif. Let me be clear: it was tacky.
Mochizuki, who was sitting in the seat across from Teshigawara, looked up at me as I walked over, then quickly dropped his eyes again, seemingly embarrassed. He was wearing a white T-shirt. It had a big picture on the front of it, so for a second I thought, A Scream T-shirt? but the picture was of a mustachioed man’s face, which I felt like I’d seen somewhere before.
Before I even had time to think, Man, who is that? I made out the letters running diagonally below, brushing the mustachioed man’s chin.
Salvador Dalí
Hm-m. He’s less obsessive than I thought.
I lowered myself into a chair next to Mochizuki and took a quick look around the room. Contrary to the building’s exterior, the decor was plain. I guess kind of a retro feel. The music they had playing was some jazzlike, slow, instrumental song that, as usual, I was utterly unable to place. Yeah—I didn’t mind this place at all.
“Welcome to Inoya.”
A girl in her mid-twenties came over immediately to take my order. Her bartender’s clothes and her long, straight hair seemed to blend seamlessly into the look of the café.
“You’re one of Yuya’s friends, too, huh?” She gave a smooth bow. “I’m sure you’re keeping my little brother out of trouble.”
“Huh?!”
“I’m his big sister. Nice to meet you.”
“Oh, right. Uh, I’m…”
“Sakakibara, right? Yuya’s told me about you. What can I get you?”
“An iced tea, I guess. Made with lemon tea, please.”
“Got it. Make yourself at home.”
According to the explanation I got later, she and Mochizuki really were siblings, with more than ten years’ difference in their ages, but they had different mothers. His sister, named Tomoka, was the daughter of Mochizuki’s father’s previous wife, who had passed away. A couple years ago, Tomoka had gotten married and changed her name to Inose.
So “Inoya” was the shop run by the man she’d married. Tomoka mainly ran things during the day and Mr. Inose ran things at night, and this broad division was how they were making things work.
“Plus it’s close to school and they give Mochizuki’s friends special treatment. That’s why I come here sometimes. And when I do, there’s a pretty good chance I’m gonna see Mochizuki. Isn’t that right?”
Mochizuki answered Teshigawara with a quiet “Yeah.”
“So, anyway: the reason you’re here.” Teshigawara straightened his hunched posture. “You tell him, Mochizuki.”
“Oh…okay.”
Mochizuki wet his lips with his glass of water, then—“Whew…”—let out a long breath. “Me and Tomoka—even though we have different mothers, we’re still related by blood…So, you know, there’s a chance that she might get pulled into our problems.”
“When you say ‘our problems,’ you mean the ‘disasters’ this year for third-year Class 3?”
Mochizuki gave a firm nod at my clarification, then continued. “So I…I couldn’t keep it a secret from her.”
“You told her what’s going on?”
“…Yeah.”
“All the details, right?”
That was Teshigawara.
“Yeah. Most of them.”
“Tomoka was…” Teshigawara shot a sideways look at the counter where she stood. “She came out of
North Yomi for middle school, too. She said she wasn’t in Class 3, but she still heard some disturbing rumors about it. That’s why when Mochizuki told her the situation, she took him seriously right from the start.”
“A couple people really did wind up dying, too. She’s worried about me and everyone else in class.”
As he spoke, Mochizuki’s cheeks flushed a faint pink. So that’s it, huh, kid? That’s where your taste for older women comes from, eh?
“But it’s not like this problem is going to go away just because she’s worrying. The ‘disaster’ doesn’t stop once it’s begun. No matter what we do, it’s…”
“So Mochizuki told his sis about our situation and the camping trip next month.”
“…Okay.”
“It was during that conversation.” Teshigawara straightened his posture again. “Some new information has recently come out. Via Tomoka.”
4
Katsumi Matsunaga.
That was the person who had brought the “new information.”
He’d graduated from Yomiyama North Middle in 1983. Meaning he’d been there at the same time as Reiko. And to top it off, he’d been in the same class as her during their third year: he’d been a part of Class 3.
After graduating from a local high school, he’d gone to college in Tokyo. After his college graduation, he’d worked at some midsized bank, but then gave it up after a couple years. After that, he’d come back to his parents’ home in Yomiyama and had stayed to help out with the family business.
This person just happened to be a frequent customer at Inoya.
“He comes a couple times a week. I knew he’d gone to North Yomi, but I only found out he’d been in third-year Class 3 at the start of this month.”
At this point, Tomoka told the story to me firsthand, since I’d just gotten there.
“I’ve heard all sorts of stuff from Yuya, so I decided I would just ask about it myself. I asked Mr. Matsunaga if there was an ‘extra person’ hiding in his class during his year. He’d had a lot to drink by that point. He acted kind of startled, and then…”
Another, Novel 02 Page 9