Chapter 04
Chapter 04
AS IF IN RESPONSE to Kanba’s cry, the door to the intensive care room flung open forcefully. “That’s right. You weren’t enough. Isn’t that right?” came a calm voice that seemed to carry a hint of a smile.
Kanba slowly turned his tired body to see a tall man standing there, both hands shoved in the pockets of his lab coat, his shining white hair lazily arranged. Beneath the lab coat, he wore a pale pink dress shirt with a dark gray striped necktie, neatly pressed slacks, and sharp, glossy black shoes.
As if in reply to the man’s question, two young boys with small red eyes, carbon copies of one another, poked their heads out from behind his back. The hair atop each of their heads was as puffy as a dandelion, but black as night, and decorated with a red velvet ribbon. Each likewise wore a shining red cameo broach that fastened the black ascots at their chests. They wore charcoal-gray short pants, black socks held up with garters, and suspenders so white as to be blinding. The one with a ribbon that pricked up was called Shirase, the one with the lazy ribbon, Souya. The pair stood there, one holding a polished black leather medical bag and the other a silver attaché case.
The man smiled again at Kanba as the latter stood up with a grim expression on his face. The man’s eyes were like two discrete miniature universes, every part of their surfaces glittering to the point where it was unclear whether he was even looking your way. His hair appeared to change color with each shifting of the light, shimmering like the inside of an abalone shell.
“Stunning, isn’t it?”
Kanba froze as he recognized the voice that spoke to him over the phone. This was the man who called to inform him of Himari’s death.
“Don’t give up. The world hasn’t ended just yet.”
“You… Who are you?”
The man narrowed his sparkling eyes, tilted his head, and glanced at his wristwatch. Shirase produced a nametag from the medical bag, and quickly affixed it to the man’s lab coat.
“Let’s keep the introductions brief,” said the man.
His nametag read “Internal Specialist—Watase Sanetoshi.”
“I just started at this hospital today. Nice to meet you.”
Not one of the doctors or nurses who should have been in the room seemed to be coming to explain Sanetoshi’s presence. Not even Washizuka, Himari’s primary physician, returned.
Kanba was suspicious of the man. He had a feminine visage, and hair that seemed oddly lengthy for a male doctor. He did not have any particular eagerness about him, but something about him made the air tense, and he spoke presumptuously. Even more suspicious were the two boys with him.
Sanetoshi snapped his fingers, and this time the lock of the attaché case that Souya was holding popped open, showing a beautiful row of apples inside.
“What’re those?” Kanba asked.
Sanetoshi smiled and picked up one of the apples, changing it into an ampoule like an illusionist. “Souvenirs for you all, brought from a faraway place.”
Kanba leaned forward, staring at the ampoule. It was mostly white, but he could see a faint peach hue mixed in. It was the same peculiar color as an apple blossom. Somehow, it reminded him of the frills and sweet smell that spread across the world of the penguin-hatted queen.
“Shall we initiate the survival tactic?” said Sanetoshi softly.
Kanba got goosebumps. The man before him had just spoken words that no one should ever say so casually, so calmly. It was as though he was indicating to Kanba just how much he knew.
“What…did you just say?”
Sanetoshi shrugged his shoulders innocently. He took the syringe that Shirase pulled out from the medical bag, opened the lid of the ampoule, and drew the liquid inside the syringe.
“You lowly thing. You are a pitiful, defenseless child. All you can do is stand there cursing your own fate, unable to save even your own precious sister. However, I wonder what I could do.” He expelled the air from the syringe, his hair swaying.
“What is that medicine?” Kanba asked. He glanced toward the window where Shoma should have been peering in, but he saw nothing beyond the glass. If Kanba had to make this decision on his own, there was no way in hell he would trust this man who called himself a doctor.
“Hmm…well, for now, I suppose you could call it a kiss from a prince that awakens the sleeping princess. A grown-up kiss,” Sanetoshi emphasized with a smile.
“That’s wonderful, Dr. Sanetoshi!” Shirase and Souya said in chorus, grinning.
“What are you going to do to her?” Kanba demanded.
Sanetoshi stared down at Kanba, syringe in hand. Kanba couldn’t tell if the man was looking at him, or at something that lay deep within him. Or maybe at something else entirely.
“Unfortunately, this gift does not come cheaply. This is a precious, state-of-the-art medicine. There are plenty of patients in the world who would benefit from it.”
Though his words were harsh, nothing about his expression or voice suggested even a hint of malice. This terrified Kanba more than anything.
“You want money?”
The man let out a reflexive laugh at Kanba’s bluntness. “If you truly feel that is a sufficient price to pay for your sister’s life, then I suppose that must be true.”
Kanba took a step toward him. “If it’s money you want, I’ll pay it, so just hurry up and—”
“I don’t want the pittance a parentless high school student could pay,” Sanetoshi interrupted. Still, he anticipated this sort of tenacity from Kanba. That was why he had opened the ampoule. He was, frankly, a little bit bored by how predictably this was going.
“I’ve got my ways! I promise!”
“Oh? And can you guarantee that?” He walked up to Kanba and pressed a finger to his bared chest.
“What is it?” Kanba panicked slightly, feeling like Sanetoshi somehow knew everything about him. He knew that should be impossible, but everything about the man clearly indicated that he did.
Sanetoshi found himself amused by Kanba’s rugged expression and defiant eyes. He was passionate, intense, and altogether entertaining. “Is she really worth that much to you?” he asked out of pure curiosity. This small, pale, dead girl in the nearby bed had long eyelashes, lustrous hair, and strong eyes. She was attractive, but that was all.
“She’s my precious little sister,” said Kanba, telling a slight lie. In truth, she was more than that.
“And what do you expect to get out of this?” Sanetoshi asked, bemused. This, too, was an obvious question. “You’d fling your young, healthy body into the fire again and again for your sister’s sake, but what would be left of you? A charred, hideous scorpion heart? Or pure white ash? If it’s ash, then you’ll probably just be blown away into nothingness on the wind.”
Kanba slapped Sanetoshi’s hand away. “I don’t need anything in return. There’s nothing I want. As long as I have Himari, I’m fine. Hurry up and do it! You’re a doctor, aren’t you?!”
Sanetoshi gave a short whistle, his indication that he was truly and thoroughly impressed with Kanba.
“Stunning, isn’t it?”
Shirase and Souya, who were standing stock-still, grinned and said in unison, “A contract has been formed! That’s our Dr. Sanetoshi!” Each of them applauded.
What on earth was this bizarre performance? Who exactly were these boys who looked so remarkably alike? Endless questions ran through Kanba’s head, but the relief he felt at just the notion that Himari might be saved drained all of his energy. He felt as though he might pass out right then and there.
“Well then, here we are.” Sanetoshi walked to the bed and stood reverently at Himari’s side. He touched her pale arm, and efficiently performed the injection. All the liquid in the syringe shot up into Himari’s body.
“Himari,” Kanba whispered, his breath hitching.
While all of this was going on unbeknownst to me, I was sitting on a bench a short distance from the intensive care room, still in shock. “This is our punishment,” I muttered.
“Huh?” I knew that Oginome-san was watching me with worry this whole time, but I couldn’t ease her concern. I couldn’t possibly pretend to be all right. She couldn’t help me. I was beyond help.
“If Himari never wakes up again, that will be a punishment passed down upon our family.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw her frowning, at a loss for words. “It’s true, though, isn’t it?” I went on. “When you think about what our mother and father did, no matter what we do, we could never make up for it.”
“That’s not…” she trailed off.
You all didn’t do those things. Uncle Ikebe had told us. I think our middle school teacher said the same thing as well. You all need to have pride in yourselves. Live with your heads held high. But what exactly did we have to be proud of? We could do nothing on our own, living only by relying on one another. Living with our heads held high was something that was never an option for us.
“Honestly, I always knew this day would come. I’ve known since that day three years ago.”
Three years ago was the last day we were able to live as a normal family, the three of us normal children. We ate breakfast as a family, waved goodbye to one another at the front door, and headed to school while our parents went to work.
But our mother and father never returned.
Kanba and I, thirteen years old, and Himari, then ten, sat leaning on our elbows at the table, waiting for our parents to come home. We’d set out the dinner that our busy mother had made ahead of time.
We were not especially worried that our parents weren’t back yet. They typically never gave us any word, no matter how late they were going to be. We were merely hungry. There was no way that our mother and father, the most dependable people in the world, would ever not come back. Then…
“Man, those two are late. Wonder if they’re workin’ overtime.”
I looked suddenly at the clock, realizing it was already around 9 P.M. Normally, we would already be finished eating and straightening up by now. “I wish they would call us,” I said.
“Let’s just go ahead and eat. I’m starving.” Kanba popped one of the pickles from the plates into his mouth.
“No. We eat dinner as a family; that’s the household rule,” I said, glaring at him.
We both looked at Himari, who was already sipping a bowl of miso soup.
“Mmm, Mom’s miso soup really is the best in the whole galaxy,” she sighed.
“Even you, Himari?”
Just then, the intercom buzzed.
“Coming,” I replied lazily, standing. If it was our parents, they would not have bothered pushing the buzzer.
When I reached the entryway, my eyes fell on a small vase filled with flowers I did not recognize. They were small white blossoms, with five petals each. We did not typically decorate our house with flowers. Moreover, there hadn’t been any flowers there that morning.
Things were starting to feel a little odd.
The bell buzzed again, urging me out of my reverie.
“Ah, coming. I’ll be right there.” I stepped down and slid open the door to see an unfamiliar man and woman in suits, standing there with serious looks on their faces.
“Might you be Takakura Shoma-kun?” the man said in a low voice as I stood there, puzzled.
“Yo, what’s up?” said Kanba as he emerged from the parlor, sensing something strange.
“And you’re Kanba-kun. Is your sister Himari-san in as well?” The man took a swift step into the entryway. His well-polished black leather shoes had strange metal buckles on them. The half-hearted gentleness in his voice put me strangely on edge.
“Oi, hang on! Who the hell are you guys?!” Kanba said louder.
“Your mother and father are out, then? I don’t suppose they’ve been in contact with you?” the woman asked sweetly, stepping between the man and my brother.
Kanba faced off with the pair, shielding me as I faltered. “I dunno what you want, but you can’t just barge into people’s homes.”
The pair looked to one another, as though surprised by Kanba’s manner. We heard the phone ring from the parlor. It must be our parents, I thought.
“Kan-chan?” Himari said, suddenly popping her face out.
“You stay in there!” Kanba commanded.
Himari shrunk back and said softly, “Uncle Ikebe’s on the phone. He says it’s important.”
Kanba sighed, glared at the two strangers, and padded back into the parlor to pick up the phone. “Yeah, it’s me. Kanba. There’s some weird people at our front door right now.”
I nervously listened as Kanba fell quiet. What could our uncle be saying to him?
“What’re you talking about?!” Kanba said angrily, and slammed down the receiver.
Not wanting to attract the attention of the two strangers nearby, I instead looked at the flowers atop the shoe shelf. What kind of flowers were those? Maybe our mother or Himari picked them somewhere.
After that, as Kanba instructed, we each packed a few days’ worth of clothes, and left the house with the two strangers, who identified themselves as police officers. For some reason, I thought of bringing the white flowers from the entryway along with us, but decided against it. There was no real reason to do so.
We crammed ourselves into the back seat, Himari in the middle, as their car sped off into the night. The familiar scenery rolling by somehow looked alien.
Himari looked to the floor uneasily, clutching her favorite stuffed animal, a bear with a pirate-style black eyepatch.
“It’ll be okay,” I said with a faint smile, stroking Himari’s hair.
Kanba only looked straight ahead, a stern expression on his face, not saying a word.
“Aniki,” I said timidly, “Did Uncle Ikebe say anything else?”
Kanba looked to the window, and did not reply.
I sighed, asking Himari if she wanted to move to the window side.
“Yeah.” She gave an earnest nod, and the two of us wriggled to switch places.
“We don’t usually go out at night. This is kind of weird,” I said, to which Himari nodded firmly again.
We exited the quiet residential district into downtown. The car rolled on through the night, beneath the neon of various shops and buildings, until it reached the parking lot of a hotel amidst a group of skyscrapers.
It was a small, neat double room. Perhaps mentally exhausted, Himari fell quickly asleep on the smooth sheets of one large bed, while my brother and I sat in beige-covered armchairs by the window. I watched my brother in the chair opposite from me, while he quietly watched the policewoman beside him.
Everything in the room, which was plenty large for a set of children, was strangely unappealing. Perhaps it was because of its rather angular design, with dim orange sconces hung around. There was a tiny fridge, onto which was posted a room service menu made of smooth, off-white paper. There was a white telephone beside the TV, and a simple built-in dresser. We had not bothered using the closet; the duffel bag containing our clothes sat atop the wardrobe chair.
“This room might be a little cramped for the three of you, but I hope you can put up with it for now.” The woman spoke with a hint of sweetness in her voice, much like a kindergarten teacher.
“Why are you tellin’ us we have to stay here?! What happened at home?!” Kanba glared at the cops.
“Um, can we call back to the house? If our parents get home and we aren’t there, they’re probably gonna worry.”
The pair looked slightly troubled. “I apologize,” the policewoman said. “We haven’t been cleared to discuss the details yet. Anyway, you all should probably eat something.”
Three sets of bento and drinks had been provided for the room. However, we were so preoccupied with trying to understand what was going on that we weren’t remotely hungry.
“If you need anything else, there will be someone waiting outside the room, so feel free to tell them,” said the woman in parting. She opened the door and said something to the cop stationed there, and then closed the door behind her.
Silence fell over the room, the lights kept dim for our sleeping sister’s sake.
“Damn it, they’re treatin’ us like little kids!” Kanba said. He stood angrily, then flopped back down on the other bed.
“Seriously, though, what was with telling us to bring a change of clothes?” I flopped down beside him, stretching out my tense muscles. I was still feeling rather optimistic. “Oh, I know. There’s probably one of those unexploded bombs or whatever buried under the house. They were talking about it on the news. They found an old mine, and it would be dangerous until they could deal with it, so the residents were evacuated. I mean, it could explode any moment, so they’re probably just not saying anything so people don’t panic.”
Kanba still looked displeased. We both fell quiet, and I drank a bit from the large bottle of tea that was left there.
When I happened to look at the clock beside the bed, I realized that by now we would usually all be snuggled in our futons.
“Ah!” We were both startled by a sudden loud ring from the telephone.
“I’ll get it,” said Kanba immediately. “Hello? Oh, Uncle. Where are you right now?”
Kanba looked at me, and we exchanged a glance.
“Yeah, Himari’s already asleep. What? I mean, they told us not to use the phone or the TV, but okay.”
He nodded his head toward the TV. I timidly picked up the remote, and turned on the set.
“Maybe they really did find a bomb underneath the house,” he snorted.
“Aniki. Look,” I whispered, turning the volume down so as not to wake Himari.
He looked at the screen, the phone still to his ear, and went silent.
On the small screen was a house. From here, it looked like a total stranger’s house, but it was unmistakably ours. It was lit by numerous camera flashes and the lights from the television station’s mobile relays. Amidst the reflected red lights of the patrol cars, the police made their way into the house, dodging reporters.
“Currently, the police are conducting a search of this house where, based on police intelligence, the two primary suspects are believed to be in hiding,” a reporter said swiftly.
Two primary suspects. I repeated the phrase inside my head. What was with this “in hiding” business? They made our perfectly normal house sound like some kind of secret hideaway.
“That’s…our house. What…what is this person saying?”
The reporter wiped sweat from their brow, expression deadly serious. Then, they began speaking again, in similar fashion.
“What the hell is this? What’s going on?” Kanba asked our uncle over the phone. “Hey, wait a minute! Tell me what’s going on!”
“Aniki, you’re gonna wake Himari.”
After a brief silence, Kanba put down the receiver. “What’s with this? Uncle Ikebe said that he’s helping with the investigation. He said it’s probably gonna go all night, and he’ll come here when it’s over, and—”
“Kanba,” I said before he could finish his mumbled explanation, shakily pointing a finger at the TV screen. Displayed were two peaceful-looking portraits of our mother and father, Takakura Kenzan and Chiemi. Beside their names, which were printed beneath the photos, was the word “SUSPECTS” in clear white lettering.
I felt ill, like my whole head was spinning. Still, I quieted my breathing as much as possible, hoping to avoid waking Himari. The flashing, multicolored lights from the TV screen reflected on my still, silent brother’s face as if he were glass.
In the intensive care room, Kanba knelt beside the bed, gripping Himari’s hand as he carefully monitored her condition. Sanetoshi handed the emptied syringe to Shirase and stood on the opposite side of the bed, watching over Himari with a thin smile.
“Now then, it’s time for the princess to awaken.”
Just as he finished speaking, Himari’s eyelids fluttered, and her eyes opened. The EKG machine she was hooked up to began quietly beeping again. “Himari!” he cried.
“Splendid work! You’re stunning, Dr. Sanetoshi!” Shirase and Souya shrieked in sync, applauding.
Kanba breathed deeply, and gripped Himari’s hand again in both of his, lowering his head in sheer relief.
Himari blinked again and again in the overly bright lights of the room, looking at her warm right hand. Noticing her gaze, Kanba looked up and smiled at her.
“Why don’t you call for your dear younger brother?” asked Sanetoshi, quietly approaching the bed.
“I don’t need you to tell me that,” Kanba replied. He gently released Himari’s hand and went to fetch the wide-eyed Shoma, who waited beyond the glass.
“Good morning,” said Sanetoshi, peering at Himari’s face with a grin. “Long time no see. Or rather, nice to meet you.”
Himari looked weakly into his eyes, blinking softly. Where was she right now, and by what means had she been awakened? She had no recollection of this dashing man standing before her, but she got the strange feeling that she knew him.
Sanetoshi straightened his back. Various colors shimmered faintly along his long, silvery hair. “I’m Watase Sanetoshi. Starting today, I’m your primary physician.”
“Primary physician…” Himari repeated in a hoarse voice. Looking at this man, who wore his lab coat with a peculiar air and did not seem at all like a doctor, made Himari feel as though she was still in a dream.
“Looking forward to working with you. Ah, looks like your big brothers are back.”
As Kanba opened the door to the room, a bleary-eyed Shoma came rushing in, Ringo following after him.
The three gathered around Himari with teary eyes, and a bit of pink started to color her far-too-pale cheeks. Himari smiled back at them and tried to say something in her still-hoarse voice, but could not get the words out.
“You were saved, Himari,” Shoma muttered.
Kanba patted his still-trembling brother on the back. “Everything’s fine,” he said in a strong but soft voice, as though assuring himself.
“Mary’s little lamb, yes?” said Sanetoshi. He picked the penguin hat up from the floor gently, so as not to disrupt the rejoicing children, and brushed off the dust. Then, he looked into the hat’s red eyes, the corners of his mouth pricking up ever so slightly.
The goddess decided to rescind the punishment of death that she sentenced upon Mary’s youngest lamb. However, this did not mean that she had taken pity on Mary, nor that she felt any compassion for the lambs, nor even that her anger had at all abated.
The goddess spoke, “Well, if the punishment were over now, that would be boring, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, indeed!” replied the large, sneering black rabbits who heard the goddess’s words. Their voices rose like a storm, their ears flapping enthusiastically.
The boundless library of fate, as always, was as bright as though lit by the sun. Sanetoshi was clad in a fully buttoned, tight-fitting white shirt; a beautiful lustrous black wool jacket; and narrow-legged pants, which matched the jacket. He walked at a leisurely clip through the Hole in the Sky Annex, and translucent geometric shapes in various hues floated up and vanished where his feet hit the floor. He listened carefully to another pair of footsteps softly pattering nearby.
The owner of the dainty footsteps drew nearer, and then farther away again, as though peeking in on him, but never did they come into view.
Sanetoshi suddenly began speaking to the unseen other, his voice resounding through the large, curving bookshelves of the spacious annex. “By the way, how do you feel about the word fate? Do you believe in the reality of such a notion? By ‘fate,’ I mean the idea that the main beats of someone’s life are decided from birth, and that there is absolutely no way to challenge that. Do you believe such a law exists?”
In lieu of a reply, the other peeked out briefly from behind one of the shelves. Their hair, falling straight to their shoulders, swayed, the hem of their jumper skirt fluttering.
Sanetoshi pressed on. “Could I ask you to listen to me, just for a little while? I need to talk to you—just a smidge, truly—about the past, and about what happens from here on out.”
There was no reply from the other. Ignoring this, Sanetoshi continued.
“Long ago… Well, to be fair, it was only sixteen years ago, but it was then that a certain girl suddenly appeared before me. Surprisingly, she and I were the same sort of person. She had the same eyes, the same smell. I finally knew that I was not alone in this world. I was so happy.”
A soft light came in through the wide arching skylight. Sanetoshi tilted his head up, eyes squinting against the light, and strained his ears. He could hear the mysterious girl walking softly somewhere between the infinite bookshelves.
“I was completely alone until I met her. Mine was the only voice I could hear out loud in those empty surroundings.”
He turned suddenly toward the direction of the girl’s footsteps, neither hurrying nor pursuing, but moving unmistakably toward her. Within the traces of her footprints on the floor, sprouts emerged and stalks grew. Leaves formed and blossomed with flowers of every hue, dying away in an instant. Sanetoshi picked up the single remaining flower petal and followed to where the flowers bloomed and shimmered before dying.
“However, in my mind, I was certain that I could hear the voices of everyone in the world. ‘Help us,’ they would cry. That’s how I was able to see in which direction the world should be proceeding. I’m telling the truth, you know.”
She still did not reply to him, just continued watching Sanetoshi from out of sight. She would tiptoe deeper into the annex, or take some book off the shelf and flip through it. Her trail of flora sprouted offshoots to shield her, growing leaves and blossoms, bearing fruit, and then quickly fading away.
“You haven’t changed,” he murmured. As always, she had no doubts that she was loved; no doubts about what she loved. She just ran around earnestly, completely happy.
As Sanetoshi’s footfalls quickened ever so slightly, geometric shapes of stronger, more vibrant colors than usual raced upward, shattering in midair—products of his ever-so-faint feelings of love and hatred and regret, the complexes of superiority and inferiority that warred within Sanetoshi.
A shadow like red smoke rose from his faintly swaying hair, and vanished. Sanetoshi shrugged his shoulders and smiled wryly, keeping himself in check.
Just as he thought she had gone entirely silent, she appeared before him. Thigh-high socks covered her little legs, and her feet were clad in pale pink enamel shoes. Her eyes were open wide and bright.
Sanetoshi stooped down slightly, his smile unfading, and met her gaze. He held out the flower petal in his hand. “Still, I was still terribly sad,” he told her. “There was one more thing that I realized the moment I met her: Our paths could never cross. She could never truly be my ally. She denied me, the sole other being who could view the world as she did.”
Not a hint of emotion crossed her face. The only movement was the faintest trembling of the lashes that bordered her beautiful eyes. She quickly closed her eyes and then blinked once, twice, and the flower in Sanetoshi’s hand silently disappeared like smoke.
“What?” Sanetoshi asked. “Do you have a question for me? Go ahead. Are you wondering about what just happened? Why I saved Takakura Himari’s life? Hmm…why did I? Well, that’s a secret for now. You’ll find out soon enough.” This time it was Sanetoshi who flitted away between the shelves. The girl did not attempt to follow.
Sanetoshi suddenly felt a soft breeze across his back, the wind caressing him like the touch of a soft hand. He glanced back to see this breeze sparkling in a maelstrom of vibrant flowers and light, circling him as though it was alive, before scattering in every direction. He turned back to her.
“What? Don’t be angry. Here, let me put it this way. I just want to know for certain: Does the notion called ‘fate’ exist in the world of men? Does that rule truly govern people’s greatest triumphs and tragedies?” He paused. “I want you to find that out along with me.”
On the other side of the walkway, the girl was silent. It was impossible to tell if she was angry or not.
He snapped his fingers. “I know! The two of us will search for the Penguindrum together, and find out whether it truly exists. What do you think? Not a bad idea, right?” Sanetoshi asked in a persuasive tone, producing a glossy red apple.
She did not open her mouth.
“Now then, go to her side. Then you’ll see what it is that I see: the fates of those three siblings.”
He tossed the apple, not waiting for her reply. At the same moment, the outlines of the Hole in the Sky Annex began to blur.
“I’ll see you later, my one and only beloved. We’ll meet again in that other world. I will never leave your side. You are the only other person in this world like me.”
Her expression, naturally, did not falter as the sunlight vanished. All color and form faded, and she was expelled from the darkness of the crumbling Hole in the Sky Annex. She merely tumbled down into “the other world,” her shoulder-length hair fluttering along with the ends of the penguin hat she wore.
Her tiny lips moved ever so slightly, but Sanetoshi could no longer tell what she was saying. He merely watched over it all without a hint of fear.
Himari remained in the hospital again for some time after that.
“Guess I don’t have much choice,” she said, forcing a smile.
The room into which she was admitted for her stay was far different this time. The walls and ceiling were plastered, and the flooring was of a rich, dark hue. A window led out to a small balcony, and that window was covered by layered curtains made of white cotton and lace.
The large, white, wooden bed was fitted with soft off-white sheets, a far cry from the starchy hospital sheets that reeked of disinfectant. The room also came furnished with a wardrobe, inside of which were Himari’s beloved crafting tools and half-read books, her favorite stuffed animals and pajamas, and even her undergarments.
On the bedside table was a classic-style reading lamp, hung with a shade of a sophisticated pattern and decorated with white lace and embroidery. There was still plenty of room on the table. Himari thought it would be perfect to pull up to it on its matching white chair and settle in for morning and evening meals. Plus, if anyone dropped in for a visit, they could have a nice, relaxing time sitting there.
The three of us had our doubts that this room ever existed in this complex before now. Himari especially would have explored every inch of the hospital until she was sick of it. We were all suspicious, but Dr. Sanetoshi explained that it was a special room “for a patient undergoing special treatment with a new type of medicine.” We didn’t have much of a choice but to accept it. The important thing was that this was undoubtedly the perfect room for Himari, a room like something out of the fairy tales she so loved, which filled me and Kanba with nothing but joy.
“Poor Himari,” I sighed. “Luckily, she gets to have a good and friendly doctor looking after her. This room is super close to the exam room, too.” I slumped in my chair a little as I watched Himari’s peacefully slumbering face. “Don’t you agree, Aniki?”
Kanba didn’t reply. I looked over and saw him with a deadly serious look on his face, watching Penguin No. 3 in the corner of the room. No. 3 had a scarf wrapped around itself like the obi of a kimono, and Nos. 1 and 2 were tugging on the scarf, spinning No. 3 around. Kanba couldn’t possibly be suspicious of the penguins after all this time, so what was with his dark look?
“Is this about the hospital bill?” I asked. That was bound to be an issue. This room was incredibly nice, and Dr. Sanetoshi himself called the new medicine “stunning.” I wondered what we would do about the meager savings we’d scraped up, not confident that we would be able to cover this just by cutting back on household expenses.
Naturally, even Himari was concerned. She even asked us about the bill, but while I stood there, dumbly flapping my mouth, Kanba just smiled and said, “It’s not going to be a problem, so don’t worry about it, Himari. You just need to focus on getting better, okay?”
His trustworthy smile was enough to set Himari at ease, if only for a moment. I was bad at faking smiles, though, so it was impossible for me to pretend to be calm.
“Shoma,” Kanba said abruptly.
“What?”
“You and me, we have to do absolutely everything that we can for Himari.”
“Yeah.” Despite my agreement, I was anxious about all of this. I couldn’t shake the sickly feeling that the modest happiness that the three of us shared was steadily being eroded—eroded by the Penguindrum, Himari’s hospitalization, our economic situation, and countless other things.
The pendant lamps hanging from the ceiling swung gently in the breeze flowing through the open window.
Masako sat languidly on the sofa, her legs crossed. She wore a soft robe with chiffon frills at the collar, and slippers of the same material. She slowly sipped a plain breakfast tea as she sat in the living room, which was lit only by the sunlight beaming in through the window.
The assorted lights and sounds from television were irritating, and watching for very long always gave her a headache. She supposed she just had to put up with it now and again, at least for the sake of basic information gathering.
She rubbed the corners of her thin eyes. On the screen in front of her was a flashy news crew near a subway station. The female reporter, mic in hand, wore a rather cheap-looking pastel blue two-piece suit.
“One of the newest symbols of Tokyo is now celebrating ten years in business, after overcoming the trials of sixteen years ago. Here at the Tokyo Sky Metro, or the TSM for short, all employees are offering a silent prayer before the start of business this morning. Right now, a crowd has gathered to offer flowers at the prepared memorial.”
There were several employees directing the proceedings, all lined up in front of the white flower display and the large signboard reading “Thanks for 10 years!” Nearby, balloons with the Tokyo Sky Metro logo on them were being distributed to children.
Just watching the affair fatigued Masako immensely, and she leaned back into the sofa, sighing. Everything about this program was sickeningly theatrical. The sights were already becoming overly familiar: the monorail running down underground; the people going in and out of the station; and the smiling faces of Double H, dressed as station staff and serving as honorary stationmasters for the day, introducing the commemorative slogans.
“To be able to develop and maintain such a modern transportation system has been a bright beacon of hope for all of us. However, as we step forth into the next ten years, we must look back at the Tokyo subway network’s recovery, and never forget the great tragedies that occurred here. Those we lost will never return to us, and things will never go back to the way they were. Now then, we would love to hear from all of our viewers and listeners today. Send us your comments by phone, email, or fax. You can find our numbers and email address right here. Please write them down carefully.”
Masako’s eyes dropped to the large caption displayed on the bottom of the screen, and she immediately picked up the phone receiver. Expressionless, a teacup in her left hand, she listened to the lively ringing of the phone.
“It looks like we’ve already gotten a caller. Let’s go ahead and introduce them.” The female reporter on the screen took a cell phone from one of the staff members and put it to her ear. “Hello?”
“So glad to see you looking so happy,” Masako said abruptly. Though perhaps the term “blissfully ignorant” would be more apt, she thought silently.
“Hm? Hello? Would you like to give us your name, first?” said the reporter, voice still chipper despite the puzzlement on her face.
“The bright places and the dark must coexist as one. The bright places can shine only because there is darkness that exists elsewhere. The brighter the light gleams, the deeper and thicker the dark becomes. When the light shines too brightly over everything, the darkness has nowhere to go. It lashes out into the bright places to swallow up the light,” said Masako, placing her teacup down on the saucer.
“Um, what exactly are you saying? Could you give us your name?”
“And by the way, that suit doesn’t flatter you at all.” It’s a dreadful color, Masako thought.
“Come again?” The smile faded from the reporter’s face.
“Goodness, we’ll have to crush that soon,” said Masako, and gently hung up the phone.
“Hello? Hello?”
Unconcerned with the bewildered reporter on the screen, Esmeralda, who was sitting upon another sofa with her eyes glinting, deftly gripped the remote control and turned off the TV.
The phone rang only a moment after Masako set down the receiver. His calls to her always seemed perfectly timed. Masako had already begun to be able to distinguish the sound.
Gazing at the graceful apple blossom arranged in the gaudy vase, she wordlessly picked the receiver back up. On the other end, Sanetoshi was silent for some time. Masako got the feeling he was grinning, as though he was ridiculing her.
She thought of her young brother, whose bedroom she peeked into a little while ago. He was slumbering peacefully, a calm look on his face. “You know, Mario is doing well because of you. I suppose I must give you my thanks.”
“Thanks are unnecessary. You’ve already paid a sufficient price in return, after all.”
Masako hung her head, her expression bitter. “I really want to crush him,” she said, pinching her forefinger and thumb together forcefully.
“By the way, I have some new intel regarding the missing half of the diary. I know who currently holds it.” There was a smile clear in Sanetoshi’s voice.
Esmeralda, sensing the topic of conversation, whipped her whole body toward Masako, who drew in a sharp breath before asking:
“Who? Who has the other half?”
The words “Tenth Anniversary,” which were supposed to have a celebratory ring to them, only gave Tabuki an eerie feeling. He passed through the station gates as usual, boarding the downward escalator.
Both the station walls and the inside of the train were adorned with posters featuring popular idols. They depicted two charming girls striking a pose and smiling, with catchy phrases like “Onward to the next ten years!” and “Congratulations on ten years!” He almost wanted to ask the posters just what was so amusing.
Time stopped for Tabuki on that day. Even after ten years had passed, it never did start moving again. His sorrow had only grown deeper, his bitterness stronger, his memories of her slowly growing dimmer. He had come of age, taken a job, and started his life all alone in this world.
He came aboveground again to the sight of festivities.
He squinted in the bright light, passing through the cityscape around the station to which he felt so ill-suited, avoided the crowds, and headed for home. The wind that grazed his cheeks and forehead now and then carried with it hints of winter. His left hand felt an uncanny sense of the changing seasons as well. He might need to start wearing a light jacket soon.
Though he always felt the turning of the seasons, ever since that day, he often forgot that he was a fully grown adult. This was despite his marriage to Yuri, the times when he was standing in front of his rowdy students, or speaking with his colleagues, or paying his taxes, or just being with Yuri. The fact that the boy known as Tabuki Keiju was now a fully-fledged member of society still did not feel real.
Just before he reached his building, Tabuki spotted Ringo standing quietly before the entrance, and smiled at her. “Oh, Ringo-chan! What’s up?”
When she saw him, she did not smile brightly like she usually did, greeting him only with a quiet “Hello.”
“We’ve got tea and coffee; which would you like?”
As she sat nervously on the sofa, Tabuki’s voice from the kitchen suddenly reminded Ringo of the incident that she previously orchestrated in this room, and she froze.
“E-either one…is fine.”
“It’s getting pretty cold out, huh?” Tabuki’s carefree voice echoed into the spacious living room. “I guess the seasons’ll be changing again soon.”
“That’s true. So, um… Tabuki-san, how are you feeling? Physically, I mean?”
“Hm? Physically?” he repeated, carrying in a tea set upon a tray.
“Never mind. It’s nothing.”
As Tabuki poured the tea in an unpracticed fashion, Ringo straightened up her posture, wondering how to broach the subject. Truthfully, this was probably something she shouldn’t even be talking about. Still, now that she knew, there were a lot of things that Ringo needed to consider.
“Tabuki-san…”
“Hm?” He glanced at her, his expression calm.
“Tabuki-san, about the Takakuras. Um, you know about their parents, don’t you?”
Tabuki didn’t react to the question much. “Ah. Heard about it from Takakura, then?” He smiled quietly, pouring some newly purchased autumn harvest Darjeeling tea into a very Yuri-styled cup.
“Yes.” Ringo watched as Tabuki’s quiet expression remained unfaltering. She prayed it would remain that way.
Tabuki sat down across from her. “Here you go,” he said, handing her the tea. Ringo let the cup warm her slightly chilly hands, but she did not bring it to her lips.
“I was surprised to learn that those two were students at my school. It’s a strange coincidence, isn’t it? I was the friend of one of the victims of that accident, and they were…” His words trailed off. “Cream and sugar?”
“Do you still remember the accident?”
Tabuki gave a pained smile. “Honestly? It still doesn’t feel real. The last time I ever saw your sister was when we parted ways the day before, on the commute home from school.”
Ringo leaned forward slightly. “What would you do if you ever found the perpetrators? If you found Shoma-kun and Kanba-kun’s parents?”
“Who knows? I mean, I know they’re ‘the perpetrators,’ but they never did anything directly in front of my eyes, and I don’t even know all the particulars of the incident. It was probably way harder on your parents. At the very least, I don’t have any particular vengeful feelings toward them or anything.”
Though somewhat relieved, Ringo recalled Shoma’s words—that if Himari never woke up, it would be because it was a punishment passed down on their family. It was an indelible sin they would carry on their backs, no matter what else they did.
“It doesn’t feel real to me, either,” she told Tabuki. “I don’t know how Papa and Mama felt. I was still little, so I got a sense that they were super sad, but don’t really know anything about what actually happened back then.” She paused and thought about how Shoma carried the shadow of the tragedy, and the darkness that she herself embraced. She tried to align the two within her mind, but couldn’t. Those two things were so different in quality and weight, yet they had come this far over the past sixteen years, overlapping and separating again and again. So why were they still so wholly distinct?
“That’s fine, actually,” Tabuki said quietly.
“You know, I wanted to be Momoka. If only I’d been able to heal everyone’s sadness—Papa’s, Mama’s, and yours.” Ringo’s eyes welled up, but she would not cry. There was no way she could cry, knowing how much sadder Tabuki must be, how much more he must be suffering.
“There are things in life that we can’t get back, no matter how hard we try,” he told her. “However, we stumble upon many other things in their place. I’m glad that you and I met, for example. Aren’t you, Ringo-chan?” This time, his smile was different, brighter.
Ringo quickly dried her eyes. “I am!” she replied. “I am.” She was glad that she had gotten to meet the Takakura siblings as well. “Still, maybe it would’ve been better if I never learned about Shoma-kun’s parents.”
“No, I’m sure there’s a reason for that. Everything has a meaning, no matter how painful or sad it is. Nothing in this world is meaningless.” His tone was firm and assured in a very teacher-like way.
Ringo nodded dutifully.
It was pointless to think that they could keep on forever, not really knowing anything about one another. The more they got to know each other, the less avoidable the topic of the accident would be.
They would have to overcome this.
As she swayed on the subway, Ringo suddenly pulled out her phone, and began sending a text to her father, Satoshi:
Papa. Sorry I couldn’t call you yesterday. Could I come over to your place to hang out sometime soon? BTW, Mama won’t know about this. Also, congratulations on your remarriage, Papa. I hope you’re happy with your new wife.
The moment she hit “Send,” her heart grew troubled, and she realized that she was in the middle of losing something very dear.
She held the phone up in front of her. A charm of a lonesome-looking penguin holding an apple swung from the phone strap. She removed the charm and rolled it around in her palm.
Her father was still her father, but this man—Satoshi—would no longer be looking out for her or her mother. He was as good as a stranger.
Ringo liked the word fate. There was the phrase “a fated encounter,” wasn’t there? It couldn’t be by mere chance that a single special encounter could permanently and completely alter the course of your life. Surely, that had to be fate. Naturally, there was more to life than just happy encounters. There were plenty of sad and painful things as well. It hurt to accept such things as fate. Still, Ringo was certain—there was a reason for the sad and the painful things. Nothing in this world was truly meaningless.
Ringo believed in fate.
The well-built officer from before sighed when she saw the report on the news. On the TV screen, our house was packed with investigators from every possible agency. There was such a big commotion on site that it was hard to believe it was nearly midnight. The woman glanced at me as I watched the scene, dumbfounded, as though it had no relation to me.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
What did “all right” mean in this context? Was she asking if I had a problem with our home being treated like this? Was that house on the television even actually our home? Maybe we were mistaking it for a different house.
“Mom and Dad would never do something like that! Did you all even seriously look into this?!” my brother squeaked out.
“Unfortunately, it’s true. I wish we had been able to fill you in about this sooner,” the woman replied coolly. “Law enforcement has been investigating your parents for quite some time, and has collected a lot of evidence in relation to their crimes.”
“You’re lying. Our mom and dad…would never…” Kanba looked over at Himari. She was softly snoring, her stuffed bear beside her. “How are we supposed to explain this to Himari?”
“Kanba…” I said quietly. I tried to put my hand on his shoulder, but he shook me off.
“This is all a fake! Mom and Dad aren’t criminals. They aren’t those kinds of people!” he shouted in a voice neither Himari nor I had ever heard from him. It was like the roar of a powerful beast.
As I looked at my teary-eyed brother, I slowly began to realize that this was in fact reality. If that was true, though, then what would become of us when morning came?