Book Girl and the Scribe Who Faced God, Part 1

by Mizuki Nomura

  Why was she bothering to worry about me?

  My throat squeezed tight and an unreasonable anger welled up in me.

  Even though she hadn’t told me the truth. Even though she’d ignored my wishes and tried to force me to write. Why would she worry about me?! Even though her hands were much, much colder than mine.

  “You have to get a good night’s sleep. Even if you don’t sleep, you should lie down and close your eyes. If you do that, eventually you’ll be able to fall asleep.”

  She spoke in a sisterly tone and opened her bag.

  “And this is something for you.”

  She pulled out a long, thin glossy bag and showed it to me with a smile.

  “Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, after all.”

  The bag was violet cellophane, its top tied with a gold ribbon.

  I accepted it from her and found it was heavy and dense.

  “Chocolate…?”

  “Nope. It’s red bean jelly.”

  Tohko answered offhandedly.

  I think I might have told her once that I preferred red bean jelly to chocolate…

  “It’s… holiday jelly.”

  For the briefest moment, she looked at me sadly and her lips alone formed a faint—a truly faint, evanescent smile.

  “C’mon, it’s a holiday!”

  The smile that I’d seen a year ago, as brilliant as the sun, overlaid itself on her and it felt like my chest was being crushed.

  Tohko quickly got a sunny expression back, then—“I’ll head off now. Thank you for letting me use your scarf. Good-bye.”—she said and turned her back.

  When Tohko said, “Good-bye,” and not, “See you later,” I felt a fiery panic.

  The atmosphere was cold enough to stab the skin, the clouds were heavy, and everything was obscured in gray.

  Tohko was leaving!

  She was disappearing right in front of me!

  I started to run after her and call out for her to wait, then stopped with a jolt.

  Kotobuki’s face was peeking out worriedly from around the opposite corner.

  My feet came to a stop, as if they were stitched to the ground.

  It was as if the impulse that had flared up had been splashed with cold water. Kotobuki had her hands clasped tightly in front of her chest, and her imploring, mournful gaze was turned on me.

  Tohko’s delicate frame—her long, swaying, diaphanous braids—was growing distant.

  I couldn’t get my voice out.

  Kotobuki and I looked at each other for a while on the frozen morning road.

  Once Tohko’s figure had disappeared around a corner, Kotobuki put on an awkward smile, which looked forced.

  “We ran into each other before we got where we were supposed to meet.”

  “… We sure did.”

  I, too, desperately tensed the corners of my mouth. But it probably didn’t look like I was smiling.

  “Did you plan to meet Tohko, too?”

  “No. She came to return a scarf she borrowed from me. She said this red bean jelly was for me.”

  “Ah…”

  Kotobuki didn’t comment on the fact that the contents of the cutely wrapped package was bean jelly and not chocolate. How long had she been listening to my conversation with Tohko? What had my face looked like when I saw Tohko?

  “Hey, we’re going to be late. Let’s go to school, Inoue.”

  My heart clenched as Kotobuki tried her hardest to smile.

  “Yeah,” I answered tersely and put the bag of red bean jelly in the paper bag. The wind gusted hard and I pulled my head into my shoulders. I pulled out the white scarf Tohko had just returned and caught the fragrance of violets.

  “Good-bye.”

  I saw Tohko’s face smiling over the scarf and pain welled up deep in my throat.

  I was starting to clumsily wrap it around my neck to drive the image away when—

  Kotobuki put her hand against the back of mine.

  When I stared at her in surprise, she was frowning, her face sullen and on the verge of tears.

  “Could I… have that scarf?”

  “Wha—?”

  “I’ve been wanting one that color.”

  Kotobuki looked up at me desperately. Her hand was trembling on top of mine.

  “I want your scarf.”

  Below Kotobuki’s hand, the back of my hand burned like fire where Tohko had bitten it that summer.

  “… Okay,” I agreed with a bitter smile. “Sure.”

  “Would you… wrap it for me?”

  I took the scarf in both hands and circled it around Kotobuki’s neck, just like she wanted. Kotobuki watched uneasily, holding her breath, as I wrapped it in two layers.

  When I took my hands away from the scarf, I felt as if Tohko’s white hands had slipped out of mine.

  “Is that good?”

  Kotobuki smiled brightly, looking as if she was about to cry.

  “Yup! Thank you. I love it. I’ll take good care of it.”

  A bond with Tohko had been severed. As I became aware of that pain, I saw Kotobuki’s clumsy smile—her determined smile—and thought, I’m okay with that.

  If I kept the scarf, I knew it would make me remember Tohko. So I was okay with it.

  Besides, Kotobuki was smiling.

  We held hands until we were close to school, and then we went in.

  It was after we’d reached our classroom that I realized I’d forgotten the phone strap at home.

  It’s been seven years now since Takumi died, I think.

  I still think about him from time to time.

  I was supposed to meet you in front of a building in Shinjuku, but I was a little late. A man I didn’t recognize had started talking to you.

  You had your face turned away in annoyance, but he was oblivious and had a sunny, charming, and vivacious expression—

  That was Takumi, wasn’t it?

  Back then you coldly said, “He’s a scout for a cabaret. He’s so frivolous, just awful.” But in my heart I was shocked that there was someone with the courage to scout you for a cabaret!

  Most men would be hesitant to even speak to you because you’re so very beautiful. But Takumi didn’t even think about it.

  It was the first time I’d ever seen a boy approach you that brazenly and keep on talking and having fun even when you ignored him.

  I think it was about six months later that you started going out with Takumi.

  When I invited you to the house for Tohko’s first doll festival, you breezed in with him.

  Takumi told me that you had run into each other again by chance outside the same building in Shinjuku. “That’s gotta be destiny! Right? Right? You agree, don’cha, Yui?” he said in the same cheerful, lighthearted tone as half a year earlier.

  That was when I first learned that Takumi was an adolescent of eighteen years of age.

  Since he was so young, at first I was worried about you two going out. Besides, he was always interacting with so many women, I suppose as part of his scouting job, and there was so much risk in that regard that it exhausted me.

  But Takumi could be childishly meek and innocent, too, despite how big he was physically.

  Good at sweet-talking, good at apologizing, when he said, “Sorry,” to you with a mischievous glint in his eye, you’d find your cheeks lifting in a smile and you’d forgive him.

  Really, Takumi felt like a little brother who needed looking after. I helped him out in so many ways, he even called me a nice lady.

  Tiny little Tohko would crawl up to him, and he would lift her up high and smile as he told her, “When you grow up, you come and marry Uncle Takumi.” That made me smile, too.

  Plus, Takumi was even good at listening.

  Like a whimsical cat. He did exactly as he pleased, but before you realized it, he was at your side, listening attentively to what you were saying.

  “You got somethin’ on your mind, Yui? Why don’cha tell your baby bro all about it?”

  When
Takumi said that to me in his casual tone, it caught me off guard.

  I mean, why would anything be bothering me?

  “Oh, gosh, are you planning on being a life coach? I’m not going to risk getting myself indebted to you. I’m very happy.”

  “Really? I bet you haven’t been sleepin’ lately.”

  “That’s been going on for a while. When I’m waiting for Fumiharu, I find myself staying up all night. After all, when Fumiharu gets home, I want to greet him with a smile and say, ‘Welcome home.’ ”

  “Does your man come home late that often? What’s he doin’?”

  “He’s working, of course. Besides, ever since Tohko was born, he comes straight home except when they’re doing final proofing. And he plays with her on his days off.”

  But you know, Kana.

  I was so very happy that it scared me.

  “Aaagh, we are late. This is your fault, Inoue!”

  “Sorry.”

  We ran into the classroom right before homeroom started.

  As both of our shoulders heaved with our breathing, Mori came over, grinning mischievously.

  “Looks like yesterday went well. Showing up at school together, that’s bold!”

  “Uh, well…”

  “I-it’s not like that, Mori.”

  Mori peered up at my face when I responded, flustered.

  “Did Nanase’s chocolate taste good?”

  “… Y-yeah.”

  “Wow! Did you hear that, Nanase? That’s great! Congrats! That’s a load off my mind.”

  Mori threw her arms around Kotobuki.

  “D-don’t talk so loud, Mori.”

  Kotobuki’s eyes were panicked.

  The teacher came in, and we were finally able to go to our seats.

  Kotobuki was ferociously typing out a text message. She was probably writing to Mori telling her not to run her mouth.

  I noticed that Akutagawa’s chair was empty again today, and my heart skipped a beat.

  Being absent for two days in a row…

  He must be pretty sick. I thought about texting him later.

  When class started, a muddy weariness came over me. My body was heavy and my mind was a haze. It felt like all of my senses were numbed, and it had become harder for my heart to feel anything.

  And running into Tohko and exchanging those few words with her… and her giving my scarf back… and the way she had smiled gently when she told me good-bye… it felt like it had happened a long time ago.

  No, it wasn’t like that.

  A slight pain stabbed through my chest.

  I dulled my heart so that I didn’t feel anything anymore.

  Because if I didn’t, it felt like my chest was going to be ripped apart. Because it felt like I would chase after her, cling to her arm, and scream like a little kid.

  Because it felt like I would attack her, sobbing, “What’s the secret you’re hiding? Isn’t it cowardly to leave without telling me about it?”

  At the break, Mori grabbed hold of Kotobuki. It looked like she was getting grilled about yesterday. She was alternately turning red, pursing her lips, or bugging her eyes out.

  After I sent a text to Akutagawa, I spaced out at my desk.

  Outside the window was a gray scene of winter bleakness.

  It might snow again…

  During second period English, my phone vibrated for a second in my pocket.

  It was probably a response from Akutagawa.

  I snuck a look to see who it was from. It was Kotobuki.

  Surprised, I looked over at her and she turned her blushing face away.

  Do you want to eat lunch together in one of the open classrooms?

  I’m not asking because Mori told me to!

  P.S. What was that thing you were going to give me?

  Oh—the phone strap. I’d left it in my room!

  That finally made me realize my slipup, and I hurriedly sent her a reply.

  Sorry. I forgot it at home. I’ll bring it tomorrow.

  Lunch is cool.

  Kotobuki looked down at her cell phone’s screen with an extremely tense expression.

  Then she glanced covertly at me and smiled ever so slightly in embarrassment.

  After that she turned away again and wouldn’t look at me at all.

  When class was nearing its end, my cell phone vibrated again.

  Kotobuki…?

  I opened my phone under my desk and saw I’d gotten a text message. As soon as I checked who’d sent it, the numb sensation I’d had till then vanished in a flash. It was like I’d been punched in the face.

  Ryuto!

  My heart started pounding hard, my head and throat grew hot, and I broke out in a sweat.

  I’m done playing around.

  When you’re done with that class, I need you to get your things and come to the school gate.

  I should just ignore a text like that.

  Then I’d be able to go back to my ordinary life. I would stop making Kotobuki look worried.

  I stared at the screen so long my eyes started to lose focus, and I clenched my jaw.

  The bell announcing the end of the period rang out coldly overhead. The teacher put away the textbook and left.

  The classroom filled with the racket of a break in classes.

  Kotobuki approached me shyly.

  I shut my phone and stood up.

  “Sorry, lunch might be out.”

  “Wha—?”

  I kept my face turned to one side, unable to look Kotobuki in the face any longer, while I grabbed my bag and coat, then hurried out of the room.

  My entire body was wreathed in a fiery rage.

  It was rage at Ryuto, but at the same time it was rage that boiled up at myself, too.

  “You should learn who Tohko Amano is…”

  Then quit hitting me over the head like this and tell me!

  Tell me what’s going on in Tohko’s head! Tell me why she said I had to write!

  I changed my shoes at the entrance and rushed outside. I was still carrying my coat in my hand, so it felt as if the cold were slicing at my skin through my clothes.

  Leaden clouds releasing flakes of snow covered the sky.

  Blowing puffs of white with my breath, I ran toward the school gates.

  Kana, do you know who Ole Lukøje is?

  Ole Lukøje, the fairy of sleep from a Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale.

  He wears no shoes and makes no sound as he steals up to children and casts sweet milk in their eyes, whoosh! and charms them into slumber.

  Under each of his arms, he carries a long umbrella, and over the good children he opens the umbrella with pictures drawn on it. When he does that, those children have fun dreams all night long.

  Over the bad children he opens the umbrella with nothing drawn on it. Those children sleep deeply, without dreaming at all.

  The day before he died, Takumi gave me a little violet-colored bottle.

  It was cute, shaped like a heart, with fine silver dust in it.

  “It’s the sleeping powder of Ole Lukøje,” Takumi whispered, gazing into my eyes.

  He said that if I took this, all of my pain and sadness would melt away like snow. I wouldn’t feel hatred, doubt, or jealousy. I’d be able to sleep untainted, as if cradled in the arms of God.

  He said that I could take some, and I could let other people have some, too.

  The next day Takumi jumped into the road and was taken to heaven. He was only nineteen.

  The snow stuck to my face and turned into tepid droplets of water.

  The snow that fell on my eyelashes got into my eyes and blurred my vision.

  When I reached the gates, a taxi stopped right in front of me. The rear door opened and someone got out.

  Short hair, a straight, tall back.

  Wearing an honest gaze I knew well—

  Akutagawa!

  What was Akutagawa doing here?! I thought he was out sick. Was it just a coincidence that he’d appeared at the gate
right then? Or could it be—

  Akutagawa bent at the waist and stretched a hand into the car. It looked like he was helping someone inside get out.

  Pock… the soft sound of an aluminum cane hitting the road.

  No—

  My heart stopped.

  The snow fell like cold flower petals. Her skirt billowed in the wind and rippled slightly.

  Pale skin. A fragile body.

  Big eyes.

  Lips the color of cherries.

  “Ko-no-ha.”

  A bright, clear voice called to me through the gate as I stood rooted inside.

  Akutagawa held her up and a peaceful smile came over her face. It was Miu.

  Chapter 6—The Two Stories of Death

  The winter of my second year of middle school. There was a girl I liked very much.

  I wanted to tell her how much I liked her, so I wrote a novel.

  But my novel ended up making her suffer and haunting her, and one day early in the summer, she jumped off the roof right in front of me.

  “You would never understand, Konoha.”

  Murmuring that with a desolate smile.

  Now she was sitting across the table from me.

  We’d moved to a café a short distance from the school.

  My emotions had done a somersault in the taxi, and I didn’t know what I should ask first. Akutagawa had told me, his face serious, “I’m Asakura’s escort,” and Miu had spoken in a cheerful tone, saying, “Long time no see!” and “I got permission to leave the hospital this time.”

  “Is tea okay, Inoue?” Akutagawa asked, sitting in the seat diagonally across from me.

  “Uh, sure…”

  I nodded. He ordered for everybody when the waitress came to take our order, then turned face forward again.

  Miu looked at me with placid eyes the entire time.

  At last her cherry-colored lips curved up and she smirked.

  “Don’t keep that surprised look going for so long. I gave you fair warning, didn’t I? I said I would get better and come see you next time. Maybe it’s earlier than you expected, though. I’ve been doing real good since that last time we saw each other.”

  The brilliant smile like sunlight trickling through leaves spread over her small face, the smile I’d adored ever since we were children.