Chapter 02

Chapter 02

 

KANBA STOOD BEFORE a large gate with a nervous-looking Penguin No. 1 in tow. No. 1 was equipped with a pot lid and a 30-cm ruler. Kanba stared at the nameplate that read “Natsume,” and pushed the dull metal doorbell. He waited a short while, but there was no reply. He was about to ring the doorbell again, but stopped and looked up to see a security camera pointed his way.

Masako stretched and sat lightly in a chair, watching Kanba through the camera. He had a low-cut sweater on, along with denim jeans and sneakers—his usual fashion.

“Goodness, we better crush him soon.”

The tiny image of Kanba glared at Masako through the screen.

“I know you’re in there,” Kanba said. “Open up already. We need to talk.” He shoved both hands into his pants pockets.

Masako sighed deeply. The gates, which were far taller than Kanba, unlocked loudly and automatically opened. Kanba proceeded though a garden filled with roses in every color and variety until he reached the entryway of the mansion.

He was sure that every one of his actions was being watched. The door of the brick-and-mortar mansion, built in a traditional English architectural style, opened before he even put his hand to the knob. He started down the black-and-white checkered hall, still in his outdoor shoes. It was dim inside, and the air carried a smell of old furniture, like in an art museum.

Moving quickly, Kanba stopped suddenly as he caught sight of a figure. It turned out to be only a white, male-shaped mannequin. As he looked around, he noticed several mannequins facing every which way, their faces distinguished only subtly by the contours that defined them. Each of them wore a sweater or shirt or parka or pair of pants that all somehow seemed familiar. Among them was a mannequin wearing the red sweater he was forced into at the hospital, crudely decorated with a photo of Kanba himself.

Kanba grimaced. Of course the clothes were familiar—every one of them were ones that Kanba had once worn, or were at least identical to items currently in his wardrobe.

On the walls of either side of the hallway were pasted portraits and what looked to be hidden camera photos of Kanba, each one framed and aligned perfectly with the mannequins.

Kanba stepped quickly into the adjacent living room. The room featured a grand piano and plaster statues. There were stuffed busts of a proud-looking tiger, its fangs bared; a stag; hunting rifles; flowers in abundant arrangements in large vases; an unlit chandelier; and candles.

Long white lacy curtains wafted gently in the breeze that flowed in through the tall windows. Kanba smelled the sharp tang of paint thinner and saw Masako. She sat in the faint light, working a canvas with a paintbrush.

“So, did you enjoy our little game the other day?” asked Masako as she ceased her oil painting, her back still turned to Kanba.

Kanba did not reply. The base of Masako’s hairline was sharp and precise below a single tidy, vertical bun.

“It’s not so terrible to be the target of pursuit now and then, is it? The hunter chases the weasel, and the weasel chases the hunter. It’s an endless game of tag.” Masako turned around and laughed softly, happily.

Kanba glanced at Masako’s canvas. It was a painting of him, wearing a sharp costume like something a fairytale prince might wear, a pale-colored rose clasped in one hand. It was a red suit decorated with gold embroidery and an exaggerated ruffled collar. The gallant-faced portrait was fastidiously detailed.

“Guess you’re just as creepy as ever.” Kanba frowned as he glared at the painting, but Masako didn’t seem to notice, her eyes focused only on him.

“Do you know why I am painting this portrait of you?”

As Kanba averted his eyes from Masako’s piercing gaze, he noticed a massive painting above the fireplace. He assumed it to be that famous painting of Napoleon, but instead it was Kanba who sat atop a white horse in a cloak, pointing toward a faraway mountain ridge.

“How should I know?” Kanba replied, unable to take his eyes off the wild image of himself.

“Shakespeare wrote in Act I, Scene I of Timon of Athens: ‘The painting is almost the natural man.’ Surely you’ve read it,” Masako said, one eyebrow cocked.

“I don’t remember,” Kanba replied, though of course he did. He found it to be a tedious, lonesome tale.

“Oh? I see.” Masako stood from her chair and removed her paint-smudged apron, placing it upon the seat. Beneath it, she wore a round-collared blouse made of a stark white material, a modest knee-length balloon skirt, and black tights.

“Humans in the flesh can tell a lie without a qualm. Both you and I, at present, are the same. That is why I’m painting you. The Takakura Kanba displayed upon this canvas is my truth.” Her voice flowed with a Shakespearian quality. “Love’s sweet nothings mean nothing to me. Love is but a word, a useful notion, which anyone might toy with as they please. In the end, the passion one feels when one believes they are in love is nothing more than the effect of hormones coursing through our brains.”

Masako walked straight over to Kanba, clasped his shoulders from behind and drew him near, drawing their cheeks close. She closed her eyes tightly and inhaled, soothed by Kanba’s somehow wild, but thoroughly clean scent.

“Say, how much do you love me?”

Kanba pushed her away, staring at her with a pained expression.

“You don’t have to answer me. I’m not after your foolish, calculated love! I care for nothing more than you taking my hands and showing me the truth. That is why I have put together this collection of you. So that I can adorn my walls with them, as a hunter displays the trophies from his prey!” Masako giggled, standing before the Kanbas hung on the wall.

“You’re just a friggin’ stalker!” Kanba spat, staring at the images of himself that looked like the faces of strangers within their frames.

“A stalker? My, I wonder. I am in fact a hunter, stalking after my prey, am I not?” She laughed happily, shrugging her shoulders, then flung her arms wide, continuing excitedly, “This world is a game preserve of love! And I, who have been granted trespass to hunt here, am a hunter of love, as it were. True love is not about seeking a partner’s heart and body as your reward. It is to possess the shape of your partner’s truth. Failing to do so is like blasting your body to pieces with your own gun. I am a victor of love, a hunter of the utmost skill, and you are my prey. We persist in this eternal chase in the name of love!” Masako’s eyes glittered, her cheeks reddening.

“This ain’t a joke. Who would want to be your prey?” Kanba barked back, but none of his words were getting through to her.

Masako slowly shook her head, looking at Kanba with pity in her eyes. “You don’t understand. A hunt is only made enjoyable through the opposed energies of both the hunter and the hunted. You are the one who balances me, and I the one who balances you. This hunt is our destiny.”

“I don’t have the time to be playin’ games with—”

Masako cut him off. “Silence!” She then sank into a large armchair placed before the fireplace, motioning for Kanba to do so as well.

Kanba quietly obeyed, glancing silently at Masako’s face in profile. Her sharp, narrow eyes quietly faced ahead.

“Have you forgotten what you said to me back then?” Her voice sunk low.

“It was just some nonsense from when we were kids. Forget about it already.” Though thrown off his groove by Masako’s actions, Kanba was not shaken at all. After all, she’d always been like this. She was always emotional and theatrical and twisted, and never truly happy in the slightest.

“I’ll go make us some tea. What would you like?” asked Masako, as though she wasn’t listening at all.

“First off…” Kanba began, pulling one of the scorched spheres from his pocket. It was the same as the one that was in Kuho Asami’s room when she forgot all about him, and the ones that struck Chizuru and Yui when they forgot about him as well. “I’m guessin’ you’re responsible for these? Did you seriously sneak these things out of that place?”

Masako’s expression did not change in the slightest. “I had those girls forget about you. They were foolish girls, unqualified to be hunters. Still, more importantly, I did it to protect your secret.”

“Secret? What are you talking about?”

“It’s fine. I know everything about you. For now, let’s have some tea. That reminds me, I have a lovely Nuwara Eliya Ceylon. I don’t believe you had any issue with that, did you?”

Kanba slammed his fist on the bulky armrest, growing impatient with Masako as she stood and headed for the round table in the center of the room, dodging the question. “I don’t have any secrets. Quit talkin’ nonsense!”

Masako turned back around and stared with cold, quiet eyes into the back of Kanba’s head. “Even if I say nothing of it, someday the world will know. One day you’ll be shoved off the ice wall and into the ocean.”

“What are you on about now?” Masako was always like this. Her words always fantastical, flitting around this way and that, as though each point of conversation was connected.

“The Antarctic emperor penguin. Throngs of penguins stand huddled by the waterside on the edge of the ice wall, hesitant to jump in. You’ve seen it on TV, haven’t you? If even one of them plunges into the water, they’ll soon know whether there are any ferocious carnivorous seals out there in the sea. Of course, no one ever wishes to die. So they just wait intently. They keep up their jostling atop the ice, waiting for some unlucky soul to be shoved off into the sea.”

Masako began pouring tea from the tea set atop the round table. The Nuwara Eliya had a faint orange hue and gentle fragrance of flowers and fresh green.

“And you’re sayin’ I’m gonna be that idiot penguin?” He sighed deeply, quietly. He wasn’t about to be sucked in by her strange behavior.

“That’s just the sort of place it is. You understand, don’t you?”

There was the repeated sound of water being poured, and the alluring smell that rose as the leaves unfurled.

“What a lovely fragrance.” Masako breathed the steam in deeply, smiling with only the faintest quirk of her lips as she realized how thoroughly these tense moments with Kanba delighted her.

“More importantly, we’ve got business to settle. You need to give back Oginome Ringo’s diary. We need it,” said Kanba, listening to the sounds of tea being poured into cups behind him.

“I can’t do that,” said Masako, preparing three sets of cups and saucers.

“And why not? This is just a game to you, isn’t…”

Kanba trailed off, at a loss for words as he finally caught sight of a certain small creature. It was a penguin, short and round. The penguin, Esmeralda, glanced at Kanba with sharp, narrow eyes that much resembled Masako’s. Esmeralda sidled boldly over to Penguin No. 1, who wore a look of terror, a cold sweat pouring down its face. Then she pecked No. 1 on the beak. No. 1 dropped the pot lid and the ruler to the floor.

Masako carried over the small, cup-laden tray, handed one cup set to Esmeralda, and returned to Kanba. “We have need of that diary as well,” she said, offering a cup and saucer to Kanba. The set was painted with delicate, deep blue images, rimmed with gold.

Kanba accepted it hopelessly, unsure of what else to do.

“Do come in,” Masako called to the hallway, without looking up.

The beautiful young boy who came shuffling into the living room wore a penguin hat atop his head. He stared at them silently, his eyes glowing red. He struck an image of rather fleeting elegance, with his lowered eyes and dainty limbs ever so much like a girl’s.

“I’m sure you remember my little brother Mario. He is my precious M, my Project Mario.” Masako leaned over and offered him the third tea serving. “It’s warm. Have a seat and drink.”

The boy gave a faint nod and took the cup and saucer from Masako’s hands, then plopped down into a chair beside the table. Kanba could do nothing but watch, speechless.

“I will not hand over the diary,” Masako told him. “I will save Mario’s life by any means necessary. Even if it means fighting you. To think that the ‘curse’ from sixteen years ago would come to fruition this way. What sublime fate! Such drama!” Masako laughed gleefully.

Kanba began to say something, but stopped. Instead, he roughly set the saucer on the table, snatched up the paling Penguin No. 1, and threw a glare at Esmeralda as he left the room.

Masako smiled and toyed with her curls as she gazed intently at her beloved’s retreating back. Even if she and Kanba were destined to battle one another, the fact that they were bound by destiny at all was enough to make her heart soar.

She rushed to the window, peeking through the curtains to see Kanba walking swiftly out of the front door. He stopped suddenly and looked up at the mansion, his face harsh and stiff. Even this was enough to set the pit of Masako’s stomach fluttering.

Her cell phone rang. Masako swiftly banished those feelings, then answered the phone. Honestly, they always had such peculiar timing with phone calls.

“Yes, he just left,” Masako said. “He hasn’t yet realized that we only have half the diary in our possession. Still, having only this half is meaningless. Could you please track down the location of the remaining half as quickly as possible?” She waited for the short response, then hung up the phone. She donned her apron once more and sat back down at her easel, face-to-face with the Takakura Kanba on the canvas. The “true” Kanba within the painting smiled back at her, saying what was in his heart: If we are cursed, then let us be cursed together.

 

Oginome-san and I sat facing one another on the subway. As my body swayed with the motion of the train, I tried to decide on the right moment to say something to her.

She was wearing the now-familiar Oukagyoen Girls’ High School uniform, a sailor suit rather lovely in its own way. I was dressed in my black Gaiennishi High jacket, of which I was already so weary.

She and I hadn’t had the opportunity to speak honestly about what happened at the hospital that day. We couldn’t talk about it in front of Himari. Oginome-san only told me after the fact that she’d handed over the diary half at the insistence of an unknown party. I was in no position to criticize her, but even though my brother insisted on rescuing me at any cost, I couldn’t help but be vaguely annoyed at her for handing over something so important.

I was catering to Oginome-san’s every whim this entire time solely in hope of her lending me that diary. I responded to her every request to the best of my ability, even despite that terrible fight of ours.

“So, there’s something I wanted to say…” My voice, when I finally squeaked it out, was softer than normal.

At nearly the same moment, Oginome-san began, “Um…it looks like you’re all healed up now. That’s good.” Her head was lowered slightly, but there was a smile on her face.

I steeled myself and asked her directly, “Why did you hand over the diary?”

“What do you mean, why?” she pouted.

“You know we need that to save Himari’s life, don’t you? But you gave it up, just like that.”

“Just like what?” she half-interrupted defiantly.

“I mean, you gave the diary away just because I got abducted and harassed a little. Are you stupid?!” There I was, saying the wrong thing again. I knew I held no malice toward Oginome-san, but knowing that we couldn’t save Himari’s life without the diary got the better of my temper.

“Stupid?”

After a brief silence, her mouth scrunched up in frustration and she struck me hard across my face with her bag. The sound and the commotion drew the momentary attention of the other passengers around us.

“Oww! What was that for?!” I demanded, holding my cheek.

“You were right. I’m totally stupid,” she muttered. “What do you mean just a ‘little harassed’?! Do you have any idea how worried we were about you, or even how I was feeling when I handed that over?!”

More and more gazes focused on us as her voice grew more passionate.

“O-okay there, Oginome-san, calm down.” I reached out gently for her arms, trying to soothe her.

“Don’t put your hands on me! I wish you’d been diced up into tiny squares with a scalpel and scorched with a blowtorch and stuck back together all wrong with a soldering iron!” she spat, her eyes furious.

What a creative and terrifying punishment. I shuddered as I realized I was seeing her true colors as an occult fanatic. The other passengers watching began to avert their gazes as well, seeming to sense the danger.

“My life’s plans have been turned upside down all thanks to you! You were a huge mistake! Like hell I’d ever give my precious diary over to someone like you!” She looked downward and clutched her head dramatically. “This is my punishment, isn’t it? For trying to turn my back on destiny.”

“Right… That diary was your sister’s, wasn’t it?” Kanba told me that he’d seen the name “Momoka” written on the back cover. I felt like a jerk. The diary wasn’t just important to us, but to Oginome-san as well. She gave up this precious memento of her sister not for some stranger, but for my sake. “I’m sorry. That was inconsiderate.”

“It’s fine, though. I’ll just restart my project.” She lifted her head. “I’ve read that diary so many times, I still remember a bit of what was written in it. I’ll carry out the rest of my plan!”

Experience taught me that trying to stop Oginome-san when she was determined to do something was a trial I was not suited for. “You gonna go back to stalking Tabuki, then?” Frankly, I couldn’t imagine what more she could do. Getting between Tabuki and Yuri-san would be impossible. More importantly, continuing to pointlessly follow Tabuki around would make her nothing more than a stalker. If she was too obvious, then Tabuki might find out about it and come to hate her.

“Stalking? I am his bride. It was written in the diary: ‘Tonight, he and I are going to share a wonderful, romantic evening.’” Her eyes sparkled as she spoke in a sweet, enraptured voice.

“‘And I’? Are you referring to yourself? Wasn’t that written about your sister?”

“I am Momoka, and Momoka is me. That is our destiny,” she said as though this was entirely logical. Her piercing eyes shone even brighter.

“That’s weird! You’re you; you’re Oginome Ringo! You aren’t anyone else!” For just a moment, she looked troubled at my objection. I looked her straight in the eye. “I’m not going to help you.”

She paused for a moment. “Is it…because I don’t have the diary anymore?” Her voice was cold.

“Pretending to be your sister won’t bring back the things you’ve lost. Probably not ever,” I said in a flat tone. “I know that as well as anyone. That’s why I won’t help you anymore.”

It was for her own good.

We stared at each other silently until the train arrived at East Kouenji. The automated announcement rang on the speaker as the doors opened, and everyone filed out into the station. Oginome-san drew her gaze away from me, and slowly stood.

“I see. I guess I’m doing this alone, then. I’ve been all on my own up until now, anyway. Goodbye!” she spat as she exited the train, vanishing immediately into the crowd.

As the doors closed again and the train began to move, I sat there alone, stunned, wondering if she had ever truly needed me at all.

It was the diary that connected Oginome-san and me. That was the only reason I had gone along with her. Now that it was gone, was there really any point to staying with her? It wasn’t as though either of us really wanted to be around the other, after all.

 

Ringo left the classroom swiftly that evening, claiming she needed to rush to catch up with Yukina and Mari, with whom she always went home from school. Ringo clutched up her bag and walked briskly to the science lab.

She kept her expression calm as she entered, not wishing to draw the attention of other girls. This wasn’t any of their business. She pulled out her laptop, quickly powered it up, and navigated to the “Dulcamara’s School of Magic Potions” website. She clicked on the “Magic to Make Him Yours At All Costs” link, carefully confirming that the pattern of the new magic circle she secretly scribbled in the corner of the classroom beforehand was correct.

“Okay,” she said to herself. “Let’s do this.”

Ringo went to the teacher’s desk and pulled out a blanket-covered terrarium from underneath it. Resting inside the terrarium was a large and brightly colored toad.

The toad had a pink ribbon atop its head, which was a bright blue. The top half of its belly was orange, fading to a yellow gradient on the lower half, the whole of its body spotted with black. Its eyes were large and black, and there were strange markings on its back. It was the spitting image of the toad displayed on the screen: the “Himehomare Toad.”

Ringo nodded to herself, remembering the spell’s instructions.

“This mysterious toad surfaces aboveground only once every sixteen years. Place this toad upon the face of a beautiful maiden, and make her perspire. If you collect eighteen milliliters of that sweat, and feed it to the man you desire… Well, will wonders never cease! He will immediately become your prisoner. There’s no way he won’t confess his love to you.”

Ringo steeled herself and plunged her hand into the terrarium, seizing the toad. There was no time to waste, and she was going to be placing it upon her own face anyway, so she didn’t bother with rubber gloves.

Goosebumps rose from her right hand all the way up her arm. She swallowed back the feeling and lifted the toad, inching it ever so slightly nearer to her face.

Ringo groaned at the squishy feeling of the toad in her hand, then quietly laid face up in the center of the magic circle. She scrunched her face and chanted: “Will wonders never cease! He will immediately become my prisoner. This is my miracle love potion!”

She plopped the toad directly onto her face.

 

 

Tabuki began to worry for Ringo. He sat by her side on the Ferris wheel, having come to the amusement park at her urging.

He remembered her suddenly appearing at his home that night with Takakura Shoma in tow, but from the moment he had taken his first bite of the cake Ringo brought with her, his memory grew hazy. The next thing he knew he was lying in bed, having been awoken by Yuri, who had just returned home. The only thing he was left with was a dull headache. He wondered if it was merely a dream, but the half-eaten cake remained upon the living room table, next to three sets of teacups.

“The front door was completely unlocked,” Yuri told him. “Tabuki-kun, were you asleep? Why didn’t you answer the intercom?”

In the moment, there was nothing Tabuki could do but tilt his head, confused.

Now, Ringo sat next to him, wearing an attractive A-line dress of a slightly glossy material. It had long, puffy sleeves, and tapered to a fluffy miniskirt. When she was getting dressed earlier in the evening, she figured the brilliant lemon yellow would stand out well on the nighttime streets. Her shoes, which matched her black tights, had a single strap with a slight heel. She wondered briefly if she was making too big of a fuss, but tonight she would claim her victory, no matter what. It didn’t matter if she was a little overdressed.

Naturally, she chose the amusement park at night for this encounter because the atmosphere would be perfect. The Ferris wheel, with its blue and white lights, would be the old-fashioned rickshaw that would herald their wedding ceremony. The nighttime scenery they looked out upon would be their attendants. Above it all, Ringo and Tabuki would finally swear their eternal love to one another.

“So, what’s up? You said you had something urgent to discuss,” said Tabuki as he sat across from Ringo, getting a strange feeling.

“I’m sorry to have called you out so late,” she replied. “Where is Yuri-san this evening?”

Ringo’s face glistened as though slathered with varnish, more than make-up or streetlights or the moonlight could account for. After the self-inflicted toad torture, concerned over the excessive shine on her face, she scrubbed her face again and again. But the unusual sheen remained, as though she were cursed.

“She’s probably in the middle of rehearsal right about now. It’ll be closing night soon, so she’s been burning the midnight oil every night,” Tabuki said with a smile.

Ringo smiled back faintly and said, “I see.”

“It’s a little cold out tonight, but it’s nice to get on a Ferris wheel now and then,” Tabuki said with a slight shiver.

“Oh, well, I’ve got just the thing for that,” said Ringo, pulling a red-checkered thermos from her tote bag. “Have some coffee! I brewed it with some special water.”

Before Tabuki could reply, she poured some into the attached red cup, and handed it to him. She calculated that each trip around the Ferris wheel was fifteen minutes. She would have to be fast.

“Whoa, thanks. Let’s try this.” Tabuki earnestly accepted the cup, breathing in the smell of the steaming, dirt-colored liquid. “Hmm, this one’s got a bit of a strange fragrance. It’s sort of…earthy.”

His brows furrowed for a second, but then he put the cup to his mouth and took three large swigs. Afterwards, he stared dazedly into thin air for a moment.

“Tabuki…san?” Ringo peered at his face. She knew that her measurements of the Himehomare toad’s sweat were not precise. Still, she had run out of other options.

“Ri-ribbit,” Tabuki suddenly croaked, looking up, face expressionless.

“Wha? A toad?”

“Ugh…uhhh… Aaaaagggh!!!” Tabuki dropped the cup, clutching his chest in pain.

“Tabuki-san!” Ringo panicked. This was probably the prelude to the effects of the love potion kicking in. It was just as the website explained. There was no way she could have accidentally poisoned him!

Tabuki coughed violently, tearing painfully at the collar of his shirt. The small buttons flew off onto the floor of the gondola. At that point, Ringo feared that she was witnessing the prelude to him transforming into some kind of were-toad.

“Aah! Oh gosh, what do I do?! Tabuki-san, are you okay?” Just she was about to press the emergency stop button, Tabuki suddenly seized her arm tightly. Stunned, she looked back at him, but he was no longer in pain. Instead, he stared up at her wildly, his breath ragged and eyes wide.

He pulled himself up, sweeping his bangs back from his eyes, his chest still bare. Still gripping her arm, he gazed at Ringo with glistening eyes.

“T-Tabuki-san?” His hand felt abnormally hot, even through her clothing.

Tabuki drew close to her face. “Ringo-chan…” he breathed. “I like you. I love you!”

“What…what did you just say?” She collapsed onto the cramped floor of the gondola.

Tabuki knelt and took her hand, seemingly enraptured by her. “I love you! I can’t hold this feeling back anymore! I’m in love with you, Ringo-chan!” His voice was clear and loud, more so than she expected. “Perhaps that’s why I’m here tonight—to steal you away!”

“Tabuki-san!” Ringo was dazed to the core. Was this reality, or merely a scene from her own dreams?

She imagined that she could hear a great fanfare, and church bells, and the voice of an old man in the shopping district shouting, “Congratulations!” She could hear an orchestra playing Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” in her left ear, Wagner’s “Bridal Chorus” flowing in from her right.

With just those few tiny words from Tabuki, the scenery below the Ferris wheel took on a new warmth, glittering like a soft little treasure.

“Ah, how could I have never realized it before now? All this time, it was the line of love rising from your eyes upon which this poor migratory bird rested his wings!” He clasped both his hands around Ringo’s.

“Tabuki-san!” Finally, after working for so long, Ringo was savoring the sweet taste of success.

“There! Look, Ringo-chan!” One hand still gripping hers, he sat them both down and pointed out at the park. “Everyone is rejoicing in our love!”

She looked out to see the city lights twinkling. “It’s wonderful,” she said. “We’re going to be so happy. It’s just as the diary—I mean, as destiny decreed.”

“Well, of course! From the moment you were born, you and I have been bound by fate. Everything that has happened until now has all been a trial, the machinations of some mischievous goddess hoping to test our love. Cupid’s arrow has struck true right here.” He unbuttoned his shirt further, baring his chest. Ringo imagined a golden arrow buried at the center of his heart.

There was no way this could be a dream.

“You’ve shot me down, Ringo-chan. I am your captive, your canary. Won’t you join me in this song of love?”

The two of them gazed at one another, half-speechless.

Ringo’s eyes sparkled. The Tabuki of her dreams was finally right there in front of her. She now had Tabuki Keiju just as she wished him, all by acting on her own without Takakura Shoma’s help.

In fact, Shoma had probably been nothing but a hindrance from the start. The only way to get results was to work hard on her own, and to be cautious. When it came to her and Tabuki’s destiny, Shoma really had been nothing but extraneous.

 

Never in Ringo’s life had she been held so firmly in the arms of any man other than her father. Carried bridal style in Tabuki’s arms over the threshold of Yuri and Tabuki’s—no, this time it was her and Tabuki’s home. She was whisked solemnly into the bedroom, where she and Shoma once trespassed.

With her arms around Tabuki’s neck, Ringo looked up at his serious expression. She felt the heat through his clothing and became suddenly very aware of his masculinity. The sweet palpitations and nerves buzzing in her chest began to curdle into fear.

For better or for worse, if this was all as fate ordained, then surely there was some meaning to everything that was happening. She would not shed a single tear in vain.

As she reassured her own trembling heart, she began to calm down, although paradoxically she felt even more helpless.

The bedroom was dark. Tabuki laid Ringo down ever so softly on the wine-red sheets that aligned with Yuri’s tastes. Previously, Ringo was too in her own head to realize, but this smelled like a stranger’s bedroom.

Atop the bed now, Tabuki straddled her, looking down at her face. He stroked her cheeks and her glossy, bobbed hair, then forcefully placed his hand down on the bed. He embraced her small body, enveloping her. His warm legs invaded the space between Ringo’s thighs, brushing against her skin.

“I love you,” he said, in a low, heated voice. Ringo shrunk back at the slight raggedness of his breath.

Ringo suddenly realized that there were tears flowing down her cheeks, though her expression had not faltered. The moment she realized this, she sniffled, just a little, and Tabuki made a curious face.

“Why are you crying?” His warm voice was so close to her that she could feel his breath.

“I don’t know.” Why was she so afraid? She had been dreaming of this moment all her life—the day when she and Momoka would finally be as one. This was what she had fought so long and so hard for. Why couldn’t she stop crying? “I’ve been praying for this to happen.”

“Then you should be more earnest about that.” Tabuki removed his glasses and placed them beside the pillow, pressing himself closer to her, his face drawing nearer.

Ringo closed her eyes tightly.

 

I stared listlessly at the cabbage rolls rapidly boiling inside the pot.

“Sho-chan, the pot’s boiling over!”

“Augh!” Himari’s voice brought me back to my senses, and I turned down the heat.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you? You’re totally spacing out.” She looked at my face worriedly.

Himari’s hair was fluffy today, as though it had been through a digital perm. It was pulled to the side with a band decorated with a white flower ornament. I was impressed. When I asked her how she managed this, she said she put numerous braids into her hair the night before and slept in them. I cautioned her not to keep staying up so late, just in case.

It made me happy to see her looking so cute, but I still didn’t want her to tax her body too much. Of course, she then puffed her cheeks out indignantly, insisting she was a master at braiding and so it had not kept her up all night, thank you very much.

“Sho-chan?”

“Hm?” The pot was once again simmering quietly, steam rising from it.

“Something happened with you and Ringo-chan, didn’t it?” she asked decisively.

“Huh? N-nothing happened! Right?” I said with a grin to No. 2 and 3 at my feet, but the pair just looked up at me piteously.

“I hope Ringo-chan likes cabbage rolls, too,” she said swiftly.

“D-don’t get the wrong idea. Ringo-san and I…how do I put this…? We don’t have that kind of relationship.” I ladled up a bit of soup and tasted it. “Mm, that’s good,” I said, impressed by my own work.

“I get that,” she said, raising her eyebrows playfully. “But she’s your little sister’s precious best friend! It’s your job as my big brother to make nice with her again! Sister’s orders!”

Himari stood with her hand on her hip, the other hand pointing at me, much as she did during her moments as the penguin-hatted queen, though far more gently and refined.

“Mm, yes, well…” As I grimaced, my eyes fell on the warm, neatly stacked cabbage rolls in the pot, a meal overabundant for a family of three.

“You only ever make cabbage rolls when you’re trying to make nice with someone, Sho-chan. Though of course, the only other person you’ve ever fought with is Kan-chan.” She peeked into the pot, self-satisfied, then flashed a grin up at me.

She was right. If you were to ask why cabbage rolls of all things, it probably had to do with the number of patient steps it took. I would lovingly boil the cabbage, mix the ground meat and other ingredients, roll it all up, and then carefully simmer the whole thing. During that time, I would work through all my negative feelings. By the time it was finished, they would all fade away, and I would be ready to make amends. I would lift my head high, wondering why I was mad at the other person when I was the one at fault. Then I would think how nice it would be if someone would eat these cabbage rolls that I had gone to all the trouble of making, and pile the plates high.

Lately, I was stunned to hear Himari speak as though she truly understood every little thing. Maybe she did. Her feminine intuition must have sharpened over the years.

“It’ll be fine. Your cabbage rolls are always super delicious, Sho-chan.”

 

Ringo’s eyes flashed open, and she shoved her palm into Tabuki’s face.

“No!” She kept pushing, shoving his chest away. She stiffened up her body, shoulders shrinking. “No. I can’t do this,” she said, half to herself.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, gently spreading out his hands. “We’re both deeply in love with one another, aren’t we?”

“Love?” As in “I love you”? Ringo thought. She shook her head without a second thought. She never really had any idea what it truly meant to be in love with someone else.

“Aren’t I your fated lover?” Tabuki asked.

Where had all of her exaltation gone? She was so desperately enthralled by Tabuki’s words of love, but those words, her sense of accomplishment…that wasn’t truly love.

“I’m sorry.” She slipped out from beneath him and got up off the bed.

Tabuki smiled reassuringly and reached out for Ringo’s turned back. “Everyone gets nervous their first time. It’s fine. I’ll teach out how to spread your wings and fly. Come on over here.” He clambered across the bed toward her.

Ringo shook her head. “I’m sorry, Tabuki-san. I’m…” So sorry. I was so ignorant. I didn’t know that this would be so vivid, the air so hot, and dense.

Ringo imagined this scene so many times, run so many simulations over and over in her mind, but those scenes didn’t exist outside of the palace of her imagination. Her dreams were disparate from the reality of “love” or “sex.”

His hot breath. His fingertips, brushing her skin. The bravado on his face, so different from usual. The scent rising from his skin.

Tabuki suddenly made a strange expression and clutched at his throat. “Guh… Ribbit! Urk…urghhh…”

“Tabuki-san?” Ringo slowly turned around.

He once again seemed to be in pain, coughing with his head hung low. Ringo started toward him, suddenly worried. The moment she did so, Tabuki swiftly lifted his face, surveying her with a crazed glint in his eyes, and sprung toward her like a leaping toad.

“Noooo!!!” Ringo screamed. She managed to evade his leap and fled the room, quickly shutting the door behind her. She pushed up against the door, one hand gripping the knob, the other pressed to her chest trying to calm her breathing.

“Open the door, Ringo-chan. I love you!” She could hear him on the other side. He banged forcefully on the door, again and again. “Come on, Ringo-chan. You’re a good girl. Don’t be afraid!”

Ringo wasn’t afraid. She was terrified. She wanted to run, but if she let go of the door now, Tabuki would just escape and catch her before she could reach the front door.

All her dreams were finally coming true. Why was she so afraid? Wasn’t everything she fought for right before her eyes? All she had to do was open the door and let him take her, and then she and Momoka and Papa and Mama could all be a happy family again. The Himehomare potion was the final trick up her sleeve, and its effects would not last beyond tonight. The longer she sat here waffling, the quicker the night would slip away from her.

She stood there quietly, trying to figure out what she was so afraid of. Was it the way Tabuki was acting? Were the effects of the love potion too powerful? Was she merely afraid of her “first time”—something she had only secondhand knowledge of?

Or was she actually afraid of getting this close to Tabuki?

“Riiingooo-chan, leeet’s plaaay…” He continued to knock relentlessly, though his voice was gentle.

“What do I do?” Suddenly, an image of someone flashed through her mind. He’d help her come up with something if he were here, even if he’d lecture her about her methods first. Then she would go back home with him, and they would all crowd around the dinner table.

What did that have to do with her current circumstances? Why would she picture him? And yet, his image was like the warm glow of a lamp through the window of a welcoming home.

The knocking sounds grew more violent, and she blocked her ears against the sound of Tabuki’s voice calling her.

Just then, someone flicked on the hall lights.

“Oh? Hello there.” Yuri’s calm, casual voice came to her, not the least bit suspicious of Ringo’s presence. She stood before the teary-eyed Ringo, wearing a white, collarless tweed jacket with a large white hat, and a large, brand name-emblazoned tote bag on her shoulder. In one hand she held a pair of sunglasses, which she had perhaps just removed.

“Yuri-san…” Good evening, she could not say. Soon again after came Tabuki’s pleading hungry voice, so loud that even Yuri heard it.

“Ringo-chan, I’m begging you, let me see that darling face of yours! I’m the only one who can make you feel like a real woman. You know that, don’t you?”

“Goodness! What a fabulous line, just like something out of a play!” Yuri said calmly.

“Yuri-san…” Sadness burning in her chest, Ringo steeled herself. “Please break up with Tabuki-san!”

“Huh?” Yuri was dumbfounded.

“I love you, Ringo-chan! Come quickly now, and make me your little sparrow, yours and yours alone! Oh, how I long to be smothered to death with love in the palms of your hands!”

A powerful slam against the door shook Ringo’s body ever so slightly.

“Y-you heard him. Tabuki-san can no longer love any woman but me. So please, give him to me!” Ringo pled, nearly in tears.

The pounding on the door, and Tabuki’s voice calling Ringo from the bedroom, was relentless.

“Fine,” Yuri sighed, whisking off her hat. “Though I wonder if that will truly make you happy.” The legs of her wide pants swayed.

“Then it’s decided! I’m going to marry Tabuki-san, and build a little house, and have his children, and raise a little puppy, and our whole family will be happy…together.” Ringo’s voice wavered, less and less assured the more she spoke.

“Goodness, is that so?” Yuri continued, unfazed. “I was certain that you had feelings for Takakura Shoma-kun.”

“Huh?” Yuri’s resolute assertion struck Ringo violently in the chest. His face and form, which had begun fading away in her mind, suddenly took on new clarity.

“There, you see? You’re definitely in love with him.” Yuri said, ever so gently.

“In love? Me?” Ringo’s voice trembled faintly.

“That’s right, dummy. You’ve been blind to your own feelings.”

“I have feelings…for Shoma-kun?”

Ringo always assumed that romantic feelings were a far more theatrical affair. She pictured love to be something filled with nothing but a strange, dreamy warmth, soft and sweet. Still, just as Shoma once said, she knew somewhere deep inside that she could never become Momoka. That she could probably never love Tabuki the same way Momoka had.

She was only deluding herself in thinking that she loved Tabuki.

If love was something so sweet and endearing, then why had her parents chosen to separate? Why had she tried so desperately to turn Tabuki’s affections her way, to the point of warping the obvious facts?

The sound of Tabuki’s pounding at her back sounded so faint and distant.

“That can’t possibly be true,” Ringo whispered to herself. She would never fall for that childish scullery maid of a boy. His hair was always messy and neglected, he wasn’t dashing in the slightest, and he wasn’t very tall. He was always weak-willed, despite his constant grousing, and at times he was downright crotchety. Most importantly, he was not Tabuki Keiju. He was not her fated lover.

“Ringo-chaaan. C’mon, open up! Hurry up! Open this door!”

“That can’t…”

Yuri clasped her hands to her breast as if in prayer. “Don’t give me that face, now. You need to be honest about your feelings.”

Ringo looked at Yuri, wiping her tears with her hands. Yuri’s face was beautiful, overflowing with composure, her eyes full of kindness and even compassion for Ringo.

“Goodness, I’m pooped. Perhaps I’ll go put some tea on. You want some?” Yuri asked gently, then padded down the hallway into the living room.

“My love can’t be stopped, Ringo-chan! You have to save me!” The forceful knocking from beyond the door continued to shake Ringo’s body.

She hadn’t known. She was so concerned with following her normal way of thinking up until now, but perhaps she was wrong. Still, there was one thing that was certain: The moment Shoma appeared, Ringo had become a total crybaby. Though the words she spoke when he was around her were harsh, without her even noticing, she learned to shed proper tears whenever she truly needed to.

 

I couldn’t stand waiting before the showy entrance of the condo Oginome-san lived in. Instead, I waited a short distance around the corner, trying to hide myself and Penguin No. 2. In my hands, I held a Tupperware container, wrapped up in a blue gingham-checked bandanna.

My feelings were complicated. While I stood there nervously, a meek look upon my face, Himari crouched casually beside me, pulling sweets from a small tote bag and handing them to Nos. 2 and 3.

It was a good idea to make up with Oginome-san, but why had I bothered bringing a homemade cabbage roll along? Moreover, I had my little sister in tow, which really had me feeling like a hopeless idiot.

“If I was Kanba…” I mused. What would I do if I were him? I definitely would not have brought a cabbage roll with me, for one. It was hard to picture him stopping by someone’s house at this hour, either.

“If you were Kan-chan?” Himari looked up at me.

“I was wondering what Kanba would do at a time like this. He would probably be a lot smoother about this.” Somehow even comparing myself to him like this felt rather effeminate.

“That’s not true. Whenever Kan-chan gets into a fight with you, he always gets sulky and stubborn.” Himari grinned. “But as soon as you make your cabbage rolls, he knows that things are better, so it’s all right.”

That was true. The fact that making cabbage rolls was a set sign of reconciliation came about only as a silent conversation between my brother and myself. It was different with an unrelated girl involved.

“Th-that’s not what I’m…” I faltered. Himari still had some rather off-base assumptions about matters like reconciling with female friends.

If I were Kanba, I would probably act all haughty, like nothing had ever happened, like I had never even heard of a fight with this girl. I would probably spout out some phrases that would set her teeth on edge and make things worse. Or maybe I would say the whole thing was a bother, and leave it at that.

“Welcome home, Ringo-chan!” Himari stood up and went out to the front of the building. No. 3 pitter-pattered along behind her. “C’mon, Sho-chan, hurry up!”

I walked reluctantly out from the shadows.

Naturally, Oginome-san looked surprised to see us, looking at us both in turn. She did not look well, as though she was perhaps a bit tired. “What’s up?”

“Um, good evening,” I greeted her, stepping out from behind Himari. “It’s, um, pretty late, huh?”

“What of it?” Oginome-san replied flatly, brows furrowed and voice softer than usual. She looked angry for some reason.

I suddenly wished I was back in my hiding place, but Himari gave me a not-so-metaphorical shove.

“I was thinking you…might be hungry?” I offered up the bandanna-wrapped bundle. “Himari and I made these. It’s our special homemade cabbage rolls—we ended up making a little too much. Oh, normally it’s a consommé, but we tried making it with a curry flavor this time. I know you like curry, so…” So, please try some. That’s, well, why we brought it here. I fell silent, none of the words that might have followed making it out of my mouth.

“No. I hate this,” she spat.

“Huh?”

“This is all your fault!” Suddenly, she slapped me. The Tupperware fell flatly onto the ground.

“Wh-why are you always hitting me?!” I pressed my hand to my left cheek. Sure enough, the girl was fundamentally insane.

“I want Tabuki-san! I love him! That’s why the two of us are bound to one another, why I became Momoka! It’s destiny, the reason I was born, and the final step in reuniting my whole family! I knew that was true! And yet…” Her voice grew ragged, massive tears rolling down her cheeks. “You destroyed all of that! You just came barging into the middle of my destiny! Just trampling all over everything like you don’t even care! And now all of the work I’ve done has been for nothing! Why did it have to be you? Why did you appear in my life? Why would you tell me that I’m me? Why?!” she wailed, face downturned.

“It’s…my fault?” I was so confused.

She glared at me with bloodshot eyes. “What are you to me? Give me back my destiny!”

“I’m your…? I don’t know.”

“Survival Tactiiiiiic!!!” Himari’s voice was like a counterfeit of her usual tone. A sweet wind blew. By the time my and Oginome-san’s gazes locked, we were no longer standing on the darkened walkway, but within the alternate dimension over which the penguin-hatted reigned.

I wondered with some intensity, as Oginome-san surely did, why this would be happening at this exact moment.

“Himari?” I searched for the Tupperware, brushing the white frills aside with my hands, but it was nowhere to be found.

Oginome-san seemed unsurprised, simply standing there with the corners of her mouth downturned, not looking at either Himari or me.

“Surely, you worthless nothings have been told!” Himari stood with her hands on her hips, feet planted atop the heads of Nos. 2 and 3. Her sharp red gaze was focused on Oginome-san. “Cry, you monkey of a girl! Only on this eve shall I permit your wild chittering. Rage, and tear everything apart to your heart’s content!”

At that moment, the glossy black corset and thigh-high boots Himari wore less resembled a penguin, and more the black of night. The frills trailing from the hem of her billowing skirt covered the ground all the way up to our feet. She was like a flower, heralding a new season with its blossoming.

I glanced at Oginome-san. She opened her mouth slowly, unexpectedly earnest. “You know about our family’s Curry Day, right?”

I could only see the slightest hint of her face hidden behind her hair. Still, from the way she was sniffling, I knew that her eyes were still teary. “Ah, yeah.”

“That was the anniversary of Momoka’s death. That’s why, on that day, we always eat curry, Momoka’s favorite food. It’s a rule in our home.”

“I…see.” So that was why she wanted to eat curry with Tabuki. For her sister’s sake. I felt a dull ache in my chest.

“My sister passed away sixteen years ago. It was then that I was born.”

I stared at her, getting a bad feeling. The word that I so loathed, “fate,” floated through my mind.

“Sixteen years ago… No way.”

The screeching and vibration of a subway train intruded upon the realm of the penguin queen. The hem of Himari’s dress retracted, and we found ourselves sitting in the train seats. Oginome-san was beside me, Himari sitting opposite us with her legs folded, arms resting on both penguins like armrests. It was pitch black, both within the car and outside of the windows. Only the occasional flash of tunnel lights, the same color as Himari’s eyes, rushed by outside.

“Yes, way. Momoka died in that accident. You know that, don’t you? I am the reincarnation of Momoka—I was born on the day she died. That’s why I wanted to be with Tabuki-san.”

I was unable to speak. The matter of the cabbage rolls had already fled from my mind. I knew exactly which accident she meant.

“If you hadn’t shown up in front of me, everything would have gone perfectly.” She glared at me again, but not for the reason I thought.

She was right. If I hadn’t been there, at the very least Oginome-san would have been able to continue wasting her youth as a veritable stalker, in pursuit of the name of something resembling love.

“Say something! Say something like you always do! I don’t care what!” She half-begged, perhaps noticing there was something off about me.

It felt as though the train was accelerating, the vibrations growing as intense as my heartbeat. My eyes stung at the red flashing by in the darkness flowing past outside, joined by myriad other colors.

Was she telling me to speak? Right here and now, in front of Himari? I squeezed my hands together, grateful for the darkness.

“No, you’re exactly right,” I told her. “I was the one who twisted your fate sixteen years ago. You can tell me to give back your destiny all you want, but there’s nothing I can do about it.” My voice faltered as I felt my throat closing, but if I didn’t force the words out, they would never be clear enough for her to understand.

“Don’t be stupid. Back then, you would have been—”

“Exactly. That’s the day Kanba and I were born.” I said, my breathing shallow. “Your sister died because of us.”

“What…what are you saying?” She looked up at me suspiciously. Her sharp eyes glittered in the light from beyond the window.

Himari—or rather, Lady Penguin—began to laugh raucously. She looked to the heavens and continued laughing in utter glee. She stomped her feet, slapping Penguin No. 2’s head.

“Shut up!” I said, looking at her aghast.

Himari grinned wickedly, her red eyes sparkling as she looked at me and Oginome-san. “Shall we initiate the survival tactic?”