Chapter 06
Chapter 06
CLOAKED IN A RYOKAN YUKATA made of a white material with an indigo pattern on it, I kicked my legs out beside the table, watching the tumbling tower in front of me. The tumbling tower was a simple game where you rolled the dice and placed little figures atop a tower matching the colors you rolled. You had to be careful about how you balanced the figures, and whoever toppled the swaying tower was the loser. I was paying careful attention to the four-colored, faceless dolls.
“Okay, green, huh? Let’s go!” As a likewise yukata-clad Yamashita rolled the dice with reckless force, his face glowed happily. His cheeks were slightly red from the onsen waters. “All right, you’re up next, Shoma!”
I reached out and rolled the rounded dice, which landed on blue.
We were here because Yamashita won some vouchers for an onsen visit from a drawing in the shopping district near his house, and for some reason, he invited me as his guest. For all his constant talk of girls, unfortunately, he still he had no girlfriend he was close enough with to invite on such an excursion. At first I refused him, saying it wasn’t really my style, but I imagined how devastating it would be for Yamashita to invite my brother and be cut down with something like “Why the heck would I go on a trip with another dude?” So either out of guilt or something else entirely, I landed myself in this situation.
“There you go,” I said, plopping a blue figure onto the tower.
“What’s with you? You came all this way; try to have a little more fun! Don’t just mope around because you got dumped! There’s as many women as there are stars in the sky!”
I sighed deeply. That still didn’t mean I was thrilled about going to an onsen with another guy. Moreover, the thought of our last activity here being sitting knee-to-knee in our room, playing a tumbling tower game, wasn’t very helpful.
“And for all the women out there, there wasn’t even one who wanted to go to an onsen with you?” I said under my breath.
“Ohh, that’s cold! You really gonna call me out like that?! Fine, let’s put it a different way. Even if you’re a poor shot, as long as you keep firing, you’re gonna hit somethin’ eventually. So, we’re gonna keep shootin’ out at all those stars. You get it?” Yamashita rolled the dice with a grin.
“A poor shot, huh?” My brother, who hit every target he fired at, had enthusiastically offered me up for this trip, but I wondered if he was taking care of things properly at home. I was the one who always had to mix the nukadoko, keep track of when we ran out of things in the fridge, and look after Himari. He wouldn’t go living it up on a date with some girl just because he was home alone, would he?
“Yo, your turn, Shoma!”
Why had Oginome-san been there? Even after I turned my back and left, when I glanced back before I was out of sight, she was still standing there, probably crying. I had made her cry so many times that I wasn’t in any position to judge Kanba, even though making Oginome-san cry was the last thing I wanted to do.
“Hello! Earth to Shoma-kun!”
I grabbed the dice near my hand and began to roll, when suddenly my phone vibrated on the tatami. I picked it up to see the name Oginome Ringo on the screen. I could not bring myself to answer, so I just stared hopelessly at the screen until the vibration stopped.
“Fine, I get it. I’ll just take your turn, too,” Yamashita said wearily, rolling the dice around in his hand.
Nothing was cutting through my sadness today, not the train ride nor our meals nor the tumbling tower, nor even Yamashita’s vapid chatter. It was like I was trapped inside a clear, thin membrane, cut off from the outside world. I was aware that my head was in the clouds, but I had no idea how to bring myself back to reality.
“Maybe I said too much,” I muttered as the call went to voicemail. Or maybe not. There was no point in us continuing to hurt each other like this, and it was best that we never saw each other again.
It wasn’t like I hated her, though. It was more like I was desperate to protect something, but I couldn’t figure out what that something was. Was it so important that I would spit upon her goodwill?
“Oh, that reminds me,” Yamashita said, interrupting my brooding. “I passed this super gorgeous lady out in the hall earlier! Seems like she’s stayin’ in the next room over. I feel like I’ve seen her somewhere before, but I can’t remember where. Someone as hot as her has got to be an entertainer or something. Maybe she’s staying here incognito. Wonder if she’s on the prowl for a boyfriend right now? That’d be lucky,” Yamashita rattled on, continuing to place figures on the tower.
“It’s all my fault,” I whispered. I had hurt Oginome-san, but I was talking as though she was in the wrong when she hadn’t done anything. I’d hurt her in order to stop myself from hurting her anymore.
When I played back the voicemail recording, I heard Oginome-san’s voice, which already sounded like a distant memory. However, she was talking in a strange voice, and what she was saying didn’t make any sense.
“Shoma-kun? I’m pretty messed up right now. And it’s all your fault!” The recording abruptly ended there, switching over to the automated female voice of the service provider.
“Huh? What was that about?” I frowned, hanging up the phone. I was confused. Then, after thinking about it for a bit, I called her back. She picked up on the third ring, but was quiet.
“Um, hello? Oginome-san?” I said timidly.
“Whaaat? Shoma-kun? You’re toooo late. I’m already part of a world that a child like you could never understand.” Her intonation was slurred. It almost sounded like she was drunk.
“Wh-what are you saying? Where have you gone?” Maybe she really was drunk. If that was true, she was a seriously delinquent girl.
“Wheeere? I mean, from now on, I’m gonna do a lotta things that you’ve neeever even thought of. I’m gonna seee and be taken to this sorta place, and that sorta place, and places I’ve never even seen before, and turned all inside out.” Her voice was slurred, drifting. “I’m already about to float away!”
“W-wait, don’t be hasty! You need to look out for yourself! Don’t get desperate and do anything you’ll regret later!”
“Shut up! I’m gonna break outta my cocoon and become a beautiful butterfly. See youuu.”
“You idiot! Butterflies only live for a week or so! A human life is way longer!” I panicked as her giggling grew more distant. “Hello?! Oginome-san, hello?!”
“You duuummy.”
“Oginome-san, keep it together! I’ll be right there!” As I jumped to my feet, I suddenly remembered that I wasn’t in Tokyo. I couldn’t “be right there.” I froze with panic, momentarily unable to hear anything besides the sound of the waves outside the window.
My numb legs collided with the swaying tower. It collapsed spectacularly, the colored dolls tumbling to the floor.
“Seriously?! We’d gotten it so high!” Yamashita pouted.
I rubbed my temples, thinking. I needed Oginome-san to confirm where she was, and then contact Kanba, and get him to find her. But could I really expect him to intervene if it had nothing to do with either Kanba himself, or the Penguindrum? What was happening now was between me and Oginome-san, and I was the reason she was putting her own chastity in danger. It was only reasonable that I should do something about this myself. But how was I supposed to get back to Tokyo?
“Yo, Shoma, seems like things are heatin’ up a bit next door.” Apparently, Yamashita had grown bored of the tumbling tower, and was trying to find out what was happening in the next room with the old-fashioned trick of pressing a glass cup against the wall.
I ignored him and held the phone back up to my ear, still connected to the call. Right now, I needed to find out exactly where Oginome-san was.
“Oginome-san, answer me! Hello! Hello?! Where are you right now?!”
On the other end of the call, which had gone quiet, I could hear a faint voice. The voice was laughing softly, and sounded like it belonged to a woman.
“There’s no need to be afraid. Now, open your legs!” the owner of the voice said gleefully.
“Whoa, she was just all, ‘Open your legs!’ Was that hot chick actually some kind of domme or something?”
“You’re getting so stiff. Relax. Don’t worry, it only hurts at first.” I could hear the gentle voice drawing closer to the phone.
“You’re getting stiff? Relax? Don’t worry, it only hurts at first? Hurts? What kind of kinky stuff is happening over there?!”
I stared at Yamashita. He was repeating every word I heard over the telephone. But he wasn’t listening to the phone. He was listening to the voice next door through the glass cup.
“I’m going to take you to the Shangri-La of Love, the El Dorado of Pleasure,” said the woman on the phone.
“Shangri-La of Love? Eldor Ado of…pleasure? Shoma, what’s an Eldor Ado?” Yamashita strained to hear through the glass.
With the phone still to my ear, I put my hand over the mouthpiece and asked, “Yamashita, that’s from the room next door, right?”
“Y-yeah, next door,” he replied nervously, noticing how deadly serious I was.
I tossed down the phone and rushed over to the room next to ours. I made my way inside. It had the same layout as ours, so I flung open the sliding screen door to the tatami room with a bang.
I stood there in shock for several seconds, eyes wide, forgetting to breathe. Oginome-san was asleep, completely nude, her upper body thrust out from the futon. Yuri-san, her yukata opened, was stroking Oginome-san’s exposed thighs. She slowly lifted her head from where she was kissing the girl’s slender shoulders.
“How impolite. Have you thought about knocking?”
“Y-Yuri-san, what the heck are you—”
I suddenly gasped as I saw it: Oginome-san’s phone, still somehow connected to the call, was gripped in her thoroughly unconscious hand.
“Who says that you need a man to pleasure a woman?” Yuri said. “Ringo-chan is so cute, isn’t she? That’s why I’m going to take that precious treasure of hers.”
“T-treasure?! St-stop it!”
I rushed at Yuri, but suddenly my foot slipped on the futon, and I tumbled.
“Agh!” The moment I saw the overhang of the interior wall, it was already too late. It cracked against my skull with a noise and impact that shocked even me, shaking my entire brain. I collapsed on the spot, falling into unconsciousness.
My head ached as though it was about to burst. Surely this was my punishment for having hurt yet another person. I groaned and sat up, holding my head.
“You said that you didn’t need Ringo-chan, didn’t you?” The room I was in was dark, but I couldn’t smell the tatami. I was somewhere else. “And yet, here you are interfering.”
“Oginome-san? Oginome-san!” I gazed around the darkness, but could see neither Oginome-san nor Yuri-san.
“Do you regret casting her away, telling her you didn’t need her?” Yuri-san asked, her haughty tone unfaltering. “Or do you simply covet her now that someone else wants her?”
“That’s not true! I never said I didn’t need her. I just said I thought it was best for both our sakes if we didn’t see each other anymore.” Of course, realistically, Yuri-san was right. From Oginome-san’s perspective, it didn’t matter what my true feelings were. Let’s not see each other anymore. I don’t want to see you. In other words, I had as good as told Oginome-san that I was fine without her.
“You’re so young,” Yuri sighed. “But more importantly, she doesn’t love you! She’s just desperate right now! You understand that, don’t you?! And yet here you are.”
I realized that I was still wearing my yukata. The thought somehow crossed my mind as I grew vaguely anxious about my lower body. “You’re just hurting Oginome-san even more, aren’t you?!” I shouted.
“Well, you’re the one who hurt her in the first place. If she’s love-drunk over me instead, then maybe she can be happy. Everything works out all right in the end, doesn’t it?” Yuri-san said coldly, her voice gentle, yet somehow rather cold.
“But you’re Tabuki’s wife, aren’t you? Are you actually in love with Oginome-san?”
“Do you really have any right to ask that? Exactly what are you to her?”
I hung my head, but could see neither my bare feet nor the floor, only more darkness.
“I’m her…” I trailed off before deciding not to bother answering. “Anyway, do you really think that I could just leave her alone after she called me up like that?!” It was a pitiful excuse. After the way I had left her, I could not possibly call myself her friend. However, as far as I was concerned, those were two separate matters entirely.
“So then, what are you?” Her voice echoed in the darkness. “You’re protecting a girl’s chastity out of your own moral code, even though you said you never wanted to see her again? Are you going to reach your hand out to Ringo-chan like this, just to shove her away again?”
“I’m…” I was lost for words. Yuri-san was silent. She seemed to be awaiting my reply. “I don’t care if it’s selfish of me or whatever, but I want to save her. Anyway, you’re in no position to judge me!” The moment I shouted this, the night sky, which I previously looked up at from the outdoor baths, unfolded before me.
“Oginome-san! Oginome-san, where are you?!” I began walking into the night. I could no longer hear Yuri-san’s voice. “Let’s get out of here! Oginome-san!”
Obviously, I couldn’t bring her back to my house, but I couldn’t help feeling that I had begun to think about our evening commutes as going home “together.” Despite everything, I wanted to go home together with her. Back home to Tokyo, where neither of us had to worry anymore.
Yuri spent much of her youth gazing out through the window at the evening sky as it glowed down on the town. She focused mainly on the ash-colored tower that stood amidst the skyline as it sunk into dull colors. It reminded her of Michelangelo’s David, its sharp face with its wide, fearsome eyes facing right toward Yuri’s home. As long as that tower was there, Yuri would never be free.
Yuri’s father was a sculptor of some renown. All of her father’s works had elegant curves and smooth surfaces, and just looking at them inspired joy. His sculptures resembled him, in a way. They were sagacious and calm, and handsome in countenance.
Yuri understood almost nothing about art or sculpting, but she loved to go into her father’s studio and look upon the various shapes and colors of wood and stone and clay, the wax and the resin, each giving off a unique scent that she would breathe in. She was not allowed anywhere near the various tools he always worked with, as they were dangerous, but the ones sitting on his workbench were large and sturdy, and each one of them seemed incredibly important.
Yuri loved her Papa, who could carve out any shape in the world from a rough and humble lump of stone, and respected him deeply.
“Yuri, do you like beautiful things?” he asked her suddenly one day.
“I do, Papa,” she replied frankly, without hesitation or suspicion.
“Well then, let’s make something beautiful. You like your Papa, don’t you?”
“Of course, I love you!” Yuri grinned.
“Papa loves beautiful things, too. No—I can only love beautiful things. That’s why I’m an artist.” He was smiling back at Yuri, blowing smoke from his sturdy, beloved pipe. The tobacco leaves that he smoked in his pipe were kept in a little tin, and always smelled so strangely. Because of this, even from a young age, Yuri never had any desire to pick up the habit.
Suddenly he leaned in and stared at her with a serious look on his face. It was actually a little frightening, and Yuri frowned slightly. She felt the same way she did when she had done something bad, and he learned she was hiding it from him.
“Yuri, you are truly hideous,” he said as he held his pipe in one hand, the other resting on Yuri’s shoulder. His voice was quiet, hinting at pity.
Yuri was speechless at this unexpected attack.
“No one could possibly love hideous things. You saw your mother, didn’t you? After she gave birth to you, she just became uglier and uglier. That was why she couldn’t stay. It’s why she met that fate,” he said sadly, his voice dark and quiet.
As far as Yuri was aware, her parents had never been on bad terms. However, one morning, her mother simply vanished. There was no other way to put it. There were three servings of ashen fried eggs in a black frying pan, and her mother’s apron was draped lightly on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.
Yuri remembered placing her yellow vinyl kindergarten backpack on the chair, and pouring some orange juice into a cup. She’d waited for her mother. But her mother never returned, and Yuri never knew where she went because she never saw her again.
When comforting Yuri about this, her father said how unfortunate it was. But he had also said it was inevitable. Yuri did not understand this; there was nothing she could do but cry, cry, and cry her eyes until no tears were left. From that day on, the Tokikagos were a family of two: father and daughter.
Nothing about her mother seemed real at all. She disappeared as though by some trick or act of God, so Yuri never once cried or fussed over her afterward. Her father was always nearby, working in the studio attached to their house, and though she missed her mother, there were no real hardships in their household. Plus, she somehow understood that there was no sense in looking into her mother’s disappearance.
The smell of the tobacco from her father’s pipe filled the whole house. It was as though her father was always there, protecting and watching over her.
But now he was saying these things.
“Your mother was hideous, and she was stupid. She could never understand my art. Listen, Yuri. No one can love a child who isn’t beautiful. They aren’t worthy of it.”
He admonished Yuri gently, his voice as sweet as if he were reading her a picture book. However, Yuri sensed something was strange, and unconsciously took several steps back.
“Yuri, you are hideous,” he went on. “No one is going to love you as you are. Not even I could love you.”
“Am I really that hideous?” Yuri cared for her appearance as much as any average little girl, who looked in the mirror as often as any normal elementary-schooler did. She had no illusions that she was especially beautiful, but she was petrified at the weight behind the word hideous. It was a grown-up word, not a childish one like ugly.
She did not get the impression that he was lying.
“That’s right. You’re your mother’s daughter, after all. But I can remove all the unnecessary parts from your body, and make you into a beautiful girl. Just like Michelangelo carved the sublime form of David out of a marble slab.”
Michelangelo was a sculptor her father greatly adored. Yuri herself had seen his works in books.
If she could not become beautiful, her father would abandon her as well. Moreover, everyone in the world would call her hideous, and Yuri would be forced to live a life of solitude.
Yuri glanced at the tools lined up on the worktable. There were a variety of large picks and chisels, hammers and files and planes. Her body stiffened as she noticed the various electric saws and small sculpting scalpels.
“So, I have a request. I want you to let me transform you into something beautiful so I can love you. I can only love beautiful things, after all.”
He spoke as though this were perfectly natural, smiling gently at her. Yuri opened her mouth silently, her throat closing up, unable to squeeze out the words.
“Papa wants to love you, Yuri!” he insisted frantically.
Yuri could not bring herself to doubt his words. Her thoughts were in turmoil, still aghast at the fact that she was apparently hideous. Most importantly, though, she wanted her father to love her. “I’ll do anything, Papa,” she told him. “I’ll do anything you want, so please love me!”
The little Yuri clung to her father’s pants, which were thick with plaster. With this, her father would love her. Her father would save her—she, who could not be loved by anyone.
Gently, sweetly, he stroked Yuri’s hair with his big hands, calloused slightly from his daily work. “You’re a good girl, Yuri. A very good girl,” he said. As Yuri stared devotedly up at him, he set his pipe down next to the worktable and picked up a large chisel. “Now, come sit up here.”
A cold sweat began to prickle on Yuri’s back. Still, she followed her father’s lead without saying another word, climbing up onto the worktable.
With his other hand, he lifted a hammer, his expression so serious that it was mournful.
Through the studio window, the face of the dusky-colored tower stared her way. All the while, she only gazed back at it, still and silent as an abandoned doll, not even breathing.
She just wanted to be loved.
Yuri sat in a corner of the art classroom, her left arm in a sling and wrapped in bandages.
“Now, everyone pair up with your best friend, and the two of you are going to try drawing each other,” said the carefree art teacher with a smile. Most of the children were excited by this and quickly formed into groups of two.
Left behind in the matchmaking, Yuri sat quietly in her seat, watching sadly as her boisterous classmates scurried like mice around the classroom, easels and canvases in hand.
It was just as her father had said. No one will ever choose me, because I’m hideous, she thought.
The feeling stung. She hung her head and poked softly at her arm.
“Tokikago-san?”
Yuri looked up at the cheery voice to see Oginome Momoka, whom she knew nothing of besides being in the same class as her. Momoka stood before her, holding her easel and canvas and wearing a smile. This girl, with her striking eyes beneath her thick, straight cut bangs, smiled wider as Yuri met her gaze.
“If it’s okay with you, could I draw you, Tokikago-san?”
Momoka stood up straight, her large, sharp eyes glittering. Her shoulder-length hair swayed gently.
“Why?” Yuri knitted her brow.
“Well, I mean… You’re really pretty, Tokikago-san,” Momoka swiftly replied.
Yuri’s eyes went wide. Momoka tilted her head slightly, her smile unwilting.
“I guess, but…” What could Momoka possibly like about her? Was she just making fun of her? Still, she had no choice but to produce a drawing of someone’s face with her unbandaged arm “as well as she could,” as per the teacher’s instructions.
Yuri sat face to face with Momoka, each sketching the other’s countenance. Momoka’s gaze was direct and unreserved. Time and again Yuri would feel bashful, her head lowering, and Momoka would remind her to lift her head a little bit.
What a strange girl this Momoka is, Yuri thought as she watched her, hard at work on the other side of the drawing paper.
The photos labeled “Our Friends’ Faces” were posted in the hallway outside the art classroom. Only one was chosen as the winner: Momoka’s portrait of Yuri, hanging with the teacher’s handmade gold medal affixed to the lower-left corner.
“Whoa, this is my first gold medal! Must be because I had such a good model.” Momoka smiled proudly.
“Oginome-san…” Yuri could not bring herself to return Momoka’s wide smile.
“Just Momoka is fine! Hey, let’s walk home together today,” said Momoka. It was as though she hadn’t a fear in the world, as if the thought that her offer might be rejected didn’t even cross her mind.
This time, Yuri did not question her as to why, but she did, of course, reply. “I guess, but…” But Momoka truly was an odd one. But Yuri was so hideous. But what could possibly be appealing about her? She swallowed back all these excuses.
On the way home from school, Momoka wanted to stop by the park, so Yuri followed quietly along with her. When they reached the edge of the pond in the middle of the park, Momoka dropped her backpack, crouched down and leaned forward. “Heeey!” she exclaimed.
“What?” Intrigued, Yuri likewise dropped her bag, crouching beside her.
Momoka looked happily at Yuri. “Look, there’s some ducks.” She pulled a leftover roll from the school cafeteria out of her bag, unwrapped it, pinched off a small piece, and threw it into the pond.
One duck swam toward the bread floating atop the water, then gobbled it up with its yellow, plastic-like beak.
“I always stop by to feed them on the way home,” said Momoka. “It seems like they’re starting to get kind of attached to me. You wanna try feeding them, too?” she asked, tearing off half of the chunk of bread and offering it to Yuri.
“No,” Yuri softly replied.
“Why not? They’re so cute.”
“I hate them,” she said, a little harshly. Then, realizing that she had inadvertently taken her frustration out on Momoka, she grew sad. She glanced back at the pond to see several ducks looking their way, as though inquiring if they might have a few more pieces of bread to give.
“I see, you’re not good with ducks. I’m sorry.” Momoka gave a thin smile, but did not appear angry or sad.
“Have you heard the story of ‘The Ugly Duckling’?” Yuri asked tentatively.
“Yeah.”
“I really hate that story.”
“How come?” Momoka pinched off some more bread and tossed it to the ducks.
“Because it’s all a lie. There’s no way that the ugly duckling could just magically wake up one day as a beautiful swan.” Yuri gestured vaguely at the ravenous “ugly” ducks.
“Yeah, well, I guess.”
“Ugly things have to endure a lot of pain before they can become beautiful. They have to endure, and endure, and endure, and then when they’re finally beautiful, everyone will love them.” It’s the same for me and for ducks, Yuri thought. She looked down at the clean white bandages wrapped around her left arm. She still had a lot more to endure before she could become beautiful.
“But I wonder… Was the ugly duckling really all that ugly?” said Momoka, tilting her head.
“Huh?” Yuri was surprised by the question and looked up at Momoka’s handsome face.
“I’ve seen baby swans before at the zoo, and I didn’t think they were ugly at all.”
Yuri was lost for words. She had never stopped to consider what the real thing might look like.
“I think everything is pretty. The sky and the birds and the bugs and the frogs, the flowers and rocks, and even the ducks. God made this world, after all. So how could there ever be anything dirty or ugly in it? God would never make anything like that.” Momoka looked up to the sky, radiant.
“But there are ugly things. My papa…” Her papa had most certainly said that Yuri was ugly, so ugly that no one could love her, not even him.
“What about your papa?” Momoka looked her in the eye, curious.
Yuri couldn’t finish the sentence. There was no way her father could have been wrong about anything, which was why Yuri had to keep enduring. And yet, she got the feeling that he was doing something horrible that she couldn’t tell anyone about.
Her papa was remaking his hideous daughter so she could love and be loved. How could that be a bad thing? Yuri’s heart started racing painfully, and she had no idea what she should do.
“You can call me Yuri, too,” she told Momoka as she frantically scooped up her backpack and fled. “Goodbye!”
As Yuri ran, her face twisted as she became aware of the acute pain in her arm, and she prodded at the bandages. She had to keep enduring this so she could be beautiful. Momoka could never choose or love her as she was, after all.
As always, that evening Yuri found herself in her father’s studio. Now, however, she no longer looked around in wonder at everything there, as she once had. She just stood still and silent, eyes lowered as she occasionally noticed the dull-colored tower outside the window out of the corner of her eye.
“Yuri, you were later than usual today. Did you make a detour?” her father asked calmly as he inspected the rock he had brought in for a new sculpture.
“Yes. A little one,” she said in a wilting voice.
“Did you make a friend?” Her father shut his eyes as he caressed the large, rough stone, pondering.
“I did.” A little more strength flooded into her.
“That’s good. I’m sure she’s a wonderful girl.”
Somewhat relieved, Yuri breathed, “She is.” Momoka was a nice girl.
“Well then, you can’t believe that girl.” He opened his eyes wide and glared at Yuri.
Yuri looked perplexed as she looked back up at her father. He picked up his pipe from beside him and smiled, a heady smell rising from him.
“Those so-called wonderful girls always put on a good face for everyone. They do it just so everyone will say how wonderful they are. Those girls, more than any, will say sweet things to your face, and then stab you in the back without a second thought. You mustn’t trust in strangers.” He crouched down to meet Yuri’s eyes and continued, “The only ones you can believe are those bound to you by blood: your family. Your family never lies to you. I’ve never lied to you, right?
“The only pure and beautiful love is that which exists between family. Everyone else is just like your hideous mother. I’m all you have, Yuri, and you’re all I have. I am the only one who can truly love you.”
“Papa…” Yuri was devastated. She thought that Oginome Momoka was a good person, but she was actually a wicked child. If that was true, though, then did a truly wonderful child exist anywhere in the world?
She believed her father was saying that there were no good girls anywhere at all—including Yuri, most likely.
“You get it? Hurry over here, then,” her father beckoned in a low, sweet voice.
“Coming, Papa.” The expression drained from Yuri’s face, and once more she stood still as a doll.
For a long while, her father’s studio echoed with nothing but the loud sounds of him swinging his chisel. After Yuri’s left arm, it was time to fix her right leg.
The next morning, Yuri brought in a large book. It was a fictional novel, far denser and more complex than she usually read. She picked it specifically so she didn’t have to see what was going on around her. Her noisy classmates, the sun outside the window, the curtains swaying in front of the windows, the little doodles on the blackboard… She wanted to expunge all those things from her mind so they couldn’t lead her astray again.
“Morning, Yuri.” As soon as Momoka entered the classroom, she went straight to Yuri’s seat, grinning.
Yuri only stared at the small lettering upon the pages, not replying.
“…Yuri?”
“Don’t bother yourself over me anymore.” Yuri ran her eyes over the characters, not taking in a single one of them, waiting for Momoka to be gone. If her father was correct, then Yuri would only end up swindled by a “wonderful girl” like Momoka. Her father was the only one she could trust; the only one she could love.
“What’s wrong?” Momoka cocked her head, suspicious. “Hey, Yuri, did you get hurt again?”
“I don’t believe you.”
Though dumbfounded, Momoka remained at Yuri’s side, but eventually gave up and quietly went to her own seat.
In the middle of class, a small folded letter had come Yuri’s way. There was really no reason for her to respond to the invitation, but after school, her feet instinctively carried her not to her house, but to the noted location.
At Momoka’s invitation, Yuri was headed to a park near the imposing tower. Subconsciously, she was happy to be seeing Momoka, if only a little. Being invited somewhere was a special feeling, like she had been chosen.
Momoka was sitting atop a small hill in the park, arms around her knees. She gazed at the field with a quiet expression, her backpack gently brushing against the tips of her smooth, straight hair.
“Why would you ask me to come to a place like this?” Yuri asked on arrival, not bothering with a greeting. This was no place for her to show happiness, and if her father was right, this might be the start of a betrayal.
“Because I want you to trust me,” Momoka said clearly, looking up at Yuri with her strong gaze.
Yuri caught flashes of that loathsome tower out of the corner of her eye. Even when she was standing still as a doll in the studio, quashing all thought and emotion, she knew that dark tower was still glaring at her.
“Leave me alone. You’re just making fun of me because I’m so ugly and pitiful, aren’t you?”
“That’s not true. Yuri, I love you,” she said, without hesitation.
“Liar! The only one you love is yourself, because you’re such a ‘good girl’.”
Momoka’s face was serious, but she did not appear to be especially hurt as she pulled a diary out from her backpack and displayed it. “Well then, will you trust me if I tell you a secret?”
“Secret?” Yuri wondered if Momoka had something that she couldn’t talk about, the same as her. The same kind of secret that kept Yuri from showing what was beneath her bandages, or speaking about it. Like a shadow was hanging over her. “Okay.”
“Come over here.” Momoka smiled happily, beckoning Yuri to sit beside her.
The two were silent for some time, sitting side by side in the grass. There were only a few people in the park, and it was strangely tranquil, a gentle breeze blowing over them. The grass prickled at their thighs, and the earth was cool and ever so slightly damp.
“So what’s the secret?” Yuri kept her back to the tower as much as she possibly could.
Momoka exhaled softly and put her hand on the diary sitting on her knees.
“I…can change fates.” She cradled the diary closely on her lap. Her long, downturned eyelashes cast shadows on her cheeks. “I use the spells written in this diary, and I make a wish to God. When I do, I can change someone’s fate, just like changing the tracks on a train.”
“I don’t get it.” This confession was nothing like Yuri expected. She felt something hazy spread throughout her chest, like smoke.
“Um, I’ll tell you another secret.”
“What?”
“The rabbit we keep in the agriculture shed… I changed its fate once.” The tip of her nose crinkled slightly. “That rabbit should have died, actually. But I used my magic spell, and I changed its fate.”
The hazy feeling drained from Yuri’s body. Momoka had just said something quite intriguing, but incredibly strange. “You’re lying. That rabbit has always been super healthy.”
“When I change someone’s fate, the world changes a little bit to match it. But no one else realizes it.” As she said this, Momoka held up her left index finger, which had a band-aid on it. “But my body remembers.”
“What do you mean?” Yuri stared at the serious expression on Momoka’s face.
“This is the price. In order to use this spell to change fate, you have to accept a punishment.”
Once again, Yuri found this secret of Momoka’s unbelievable. Caring for the class rabbit was a rotating duty, and Yuri had seen many times for herself that the rabbit was perfectly healthy. Never once had it shown signs of being in poor health.
“Do you wanna try changing it?” Momoka asked quietly.
“Huh?”
“Your fate. Wanna try changing it?” Momoka turned her downcast gaze up to meet Yuri’s, meek and quiet, her silky hair swaying gently.
Cautiously, Yuri looked at the ash-gray tower. As long as that tower was there, she could never be free. It was always watching her. She had to sacrifice who she was—a soulless doll—or the tower would swiftly catch onto her. If that happened, she would never have any hope of becoming beautiful…and no one would ever love her.
She could not step down from that worktable in her father’s studio.
“Yuri, you’re gonna die with the way things are going. So I’m going to use my spell and set you free. I don’t mind ending up with one more band-aid if it means you’ll be happy.” Momoka smiled, her striking eyes glittering.
“What are you saying? I can never be free! That tower is my father, and it’s always, always watching me! Until that thing disappears from this world, I…”
Yuri grew terrified at the words suddenly pouring from her mouth. They were her deepest feelings.
She knew the truth. She knew that there was something wrong with the things her father said, the things he did. And yet, she could not defy him, or tell anyone, because she was afraid.
Momoka was right. If things continued at this rate, Yuri would most certainly end up dead. She had turned her eyes from the obvious truth, trying to believe in her father’s love. But even if she admitted the truth, it still did not mean she could escape that place.
“Should I get rid of that tower?” Momoka asked casually.
“Come on! You can’t possibly do that!”
“I think I can, though.” Momoka was serious.
“Liar!”
“I’m not lying!”
Yuri ripped at the grass and quickly stood up, raging at Momoka. “Is it really that fun to make fun of people? Is it because I’m ugly? Well, that ends today. That’s what my papa said. It all ends today. Come tomorrow, I’ll be…” Beautiful. Dead. Both were true, yet both seemed like a lie. The hazy feeling spread through her brain, and she felt bile rising. “I’ll be…”
Beautiful. A child who her father and everyone else could love. Wrapped in bandages from head to toe, transformed from a doll into some kind of monster before she died. Either way, there was no way anyone could make that tower disappear.
“No, you’re gonna die before then! Please, stop this!” Momoka stood up as well. She seemed to see right through Yuri’s turmoil with those strong, willful eyes.
“No! If I have to live my life being so hideous that no one will ever love me, then I’d rather just die and become a swan! It all ends tomorrow!”
“Yuri!”
“You’re a liar! I hate you!” Yuri took off running, trying to escape both Momoka and the tower, which loomed over her, enormous.
She hoped someone would save her. She wanted to be saved, chosen, loved. But it was hopeless. There was no God in this world. Yuri could not believe that everything in this world was beautiful, the way Momoka did.
Though she cursed her own hideous fate, tomorrow she would be a doll once more, and then it would be over.
That evening, as expected, she stood in her father’s studio. The moment she returned home, she buried her own feelings, banishing her thoughts as well as she could. She stared dazedly at the new tools her father had ordered, which were laid out on the worktable. The handles were glossy, their metal tips glistening.
“My new chisel is finally here.” Her father sighed with satisfaction. “Are you ready, Yuri? Today will be my last great work. From now on, you’ll be something that your Papa can love forever. My magnum opus.” Her father pulled her up and set her down upon the workbench.
Yuri stiffened her body, letting her eyes rove to the window. There, as always, stood the gray tower reminiscent of the statue of David, gazing her way with its fearsome visage.
Yuri should have loved her father. Both in the past, and now. She truly should have. And yet…
The metallic sound of the chisel striking rang out. The sound, like the ringing of a bell, echoed loud and clear as the night went on for what felt like eternity.
Himari was watching a music program on the small TV set on her bedside table. Double H was set to appear today.
“Now then, up next are our two stars from Double H: Hibari-chan and Hikari-chan!” The studio audience cheered at the emcee’s introduction. The pair stepped out onto the stage to a fanfare, smiling and waving.
Himari was glued to the screen, completely transfixed.
“What’s this? Looks like you all have new outfits today,” said the emcee.
“We had them put together to match these scarves!” said Hibari, stroking the scarf wrapped around her neck. “We had them switch up our wardrobe a bit, too.”
“Oh? Then could these be gifts from someone special?” the emcee asked.
“They were knitted for us by a dear friend. We’re so happy to know that she’s still out there cheering us on. Right?!” said Hikari, looking at Hibari with a wide grin.
It was like a dream. Hibari and Hikari were wearing the scarves she knitted, the ones she tried to throw away. Himari’s lips trembled faintly, and quiet tears rolled down her face. Penguin No. 3, dressed in a wig with a star-shaped hair ornament attached in the style of Double H, looked up as it felt the tears dripping down on it, and squawked softly.
In the examination room, Sanetoshi and Kanba and Penguin No. 1 sat facing each other. Sanetoshi leaned back, rocking the wheeled chair he sat in as he waited for Kanba to speak.
Kanba tossed an envelope down onto the desk. Sanetoshi raised both his eyebrows slightly, and checked the contents.
“The rest of the money,” Kanba said.
“How stunning.” Sanetoshi glanced at Shirase and Souya, who stood subdued behind him.
“That should be enough, right? Now hurry up and cure Himari.”
“Ugh, what a drag…” Sanetoshi muttered, spinning his chair around.
Kanba was about to complain about this, but just then the door opened, and Himari rushed into the exam room. “Dr. Sanetoshi!” she cried out.
She was wearing a gauzy nightgown with a pale pink floral pattern. Though it was already quite chilly out, she wore no dressing gown over it.
“What’s wrong, Himari?” Kanba asked, standing from his stool, seeing the slight redness in Himari’s eyes.
Not answering his question, Himari walked straight over to Sanetoshi, enthralled. “Sensei, Double H! Those scarves!”
“Hmm?” Sanetoshi smiled. His expression was soft, almost feminine.
“Um, I just saw on the TV… Those scarves! Double H were wearing them! How? Did you…?”
Sanetoshi stood slowly. “You need to put something else on. The cold isn’t good for you,” he said in a pacifying manner, softly patting Himari on the head. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling.
“How stunning! Just as we expect from Dr. Sanetoshi!” cheered the two boys.
Kanba felt completely out of the loop. He observed the scene, silently looking upon Himari’s blushing, happy face from a distance as she looked at Sanetoshi.
“Boys, you flatter me too much,” Sanetoshi chided with a thin smile. The pair abruptly restrained their applause, snapping to attention.
Himari finally turned back to Kanba, her whole face beaming. “Kan-chan, this is amazing! Dr. Sanetoshi sent the scarves I knitted to Hibari-chan and Hikari-chan, without me even asking him to!”
“Huh.” Puzzled, Kanba looked at Sanetoshi. As always, the doctor gazed both at the siblings and at nothing at all with his sparkling black eyes, eyes that were like a portrait of a galaxy.
“It’s like magic! Thank you, Sensei!” Himari said earnestly, turning back to Sanetoshi.
“My, my, guess the cat’s out of the bag,” he said quietly and without a hint of shame. He returned Himari’s smile before glancing back at Kanba. “Now then, if you don’t get some sleep, your body will never heal. Let’s talk more about magic later.”
Kanba was less than pleased. It was not surprising that Himari would be so innocently enamored with Sanetoshi, but it also looked like Sanetoshi was going out of his way to placate her by getting involved in her affairs.
And yet, Kanba could never have made Himari as happy as Sanetoshi just had.
“I’ll see you in your room later,” Kanba told Himari as Shirase and Souya led her away.
“’Kay.” Himari nodded as she left. The room went quiet for a moment before Sanetoshi spoke.
“Are you perturbed by what I’ve done?”
Sanetoshi wore beige slacks and a violet-colored dress shirt beneath a thick gray cardigan. As always, he looked nothing like a doctor. Those rainbows shimmered in his loosely gathered hair, and he had both hands shoved in the pockets of his lab coat. Though he looked young, he was still a tall man, more mature than Kanba, and right now he was the only one capable of saving Himari.
“No, I should thank you. But how did you know about those idols?” Kanba asked.
“Knowing everything about one’s patients is part of a doctor’s duty.” The corners of his mouth pricked up, and he narrowed his eyes as though he was looking right through Kanba. “Being in good spirits is good for the body.”
Rather than be perturbed, Kanba truly could not believe that this man even existed. Still, this was all for Himari’s sake. No matter how suspicious or creepy or arrogant Sanetoshi was, it didn’t matter as long as he could save Himari.
“Are you really that concerned about whether your sister loves you?” Sanetoshi suddenly asked, flopping back into his chair.
“Huh?”
“I saw your face just then. Wish I’d taken a picture.” It was priceless, Sanetoshi thought before adding, “You know something? Family is just a type of fantasy. It’s something like a curse, isn’t it?”
Kanba stiffened up his cheeks so as not to let any emotion show on his face. A curse?
“Think about it. Think of all the suffering children, bound to their fates in the name of ‘family.’ All the parents who think they can do whatever they want to their children in the name of love. Even when the only people those parents love are themselves, they force their children to love them back simply because they are related.”
“What are you trying to say?” Sanetoshi’s words always seemed engineered to irritate Kanba and get him fired up.
“Who knows? I just assumed it was what you thought.” Sanetoshi approached him, rolling chair and all. “Wouldn’t it be easier for you if you weren’t related to them?”
“I’ve never once thought that.” The unrest and irritation froze solid again.
“Really? That’s good, then. In that case…” Sanetoshi spun the chair away from Kanba, but glanced at his face. Gentle shades of peach and blue shimmered in Sanetoshi’s hair.
Kanba cast his eyes downward, his face pale and hard.
The faintly sweet smell of apple blossoms wafted throughout the room, mixed with the fragrance of fresh greenery drifting off of Sanetoshi.
As Himari snuggled into bed, Shirase and Souya efficiently tucked her in beneath the covers, saying “Good night!” in tandem before leaving. The two boys seemed younger than Himari, and rarely spoke, but they were quite handy.
Kanba entered the room, along with Penguin No. 3. “Himari,” he greeted her.
“Kan-chan!” Himari sat straight up, grinning. “Sanetoshi-sensei is amazing, isn’t he?!”
“Yeah.” If only they weren’t related. Then Kanba could shout to the whole world how much he loved Himari, without any fear or judgment. If he and Himari weren’t related, he could worry only about the two of them. He wouldn’t have to care for the Takakura household, and no one would have to suffer.
“Sho-chan went to an onsen, didn’t he? Sounds nice. I wish I could go, too,” Himari said, happily squeezing No. 3.
“He sure got lucky. Yamashita, too. Kinda lame going to an onsen with another dude, though.”
If he were someone else right now, he could place a hand at the back of Himari’s neck to make her look his way, take in the look of surprise in her eyes, and press his lips against hers before she could say a word. But in the end, would that truly make him happy?
“It’d be nice if we could all go to an onsen together someday, once I get better,” Himari said. Her tone of voice made her sound like she was hoping to one day become a princess and live in a big castle.
“We’ll go,” said Kanba. “Just for a day trip or something.”
Who would he truly be if he wasn’t Takakura Kanba?
He chatted for a bit with Himari and told her to get lots of rest, then casually exited the room. By the time he was seated on the subway, he was exhausted, his breathing so painful it forced his eyes shut, leaving him unable to speak.
He stared at his own sharp, strong face in the dark window glass across from him and thought, I am Takakura Kanba, older brother of Takakura Himari and Takakura Shoma.
In the next room over from the unconscious Shoma and Ringo, Yuri put her yukata back on and opened the torn half of Momoka’s diary.
Back then, Yuri felt everything deeply. Perhaps this was why the world felt so empty and unreal, now that she was certain about a specific thing.
“Momoka,” she murmured, fingers tracing the childish lettering, “I guess it really did need to be you.”
Looking upon the foolishly earnest, brave forms of the two youths, Yuri felt strangely distant, as though she suddenly aged tremendously.
“Momoka…” What do I do, Momoka? I’ve changed so much since then. “Would you still call me beautiful?”
“Pardon me, miss?”
Yuri stiffened up at the clear voice of a hostess, quickly concealing the diary within the flap of her yukata. “Come in.”
“Please forgive the intrusion.” Masako, disguised as a hostess, shuffled into the room. She looked around at the surroundings and crouched down beside the melancholic Yuri. “Are you finished with your meal? I will take your dishes.”
“Sorry, could you try to finish up quickly?” Yuri began casually arranging her bangs with her fingers. She seemed a bit drunk.
“Yes, I’ll just be a moment,” said Masako, quickly taking away the food that had not been to Yuri’s liking. “By the way, miss, I heard tell that a famous actress is visiting here today. Have you met her?”
Yuri sighed. “I see,” she replied. Even without her makeup, anyone who was familiar with Yuri would recognize her right away. If the hostess hadn’t heard of her, then she could just feign ignorance and let the moment pass in peace.
“I heard a rumor going around amongst the other hostesses. Even the matron was babbling something about getting an autograph to decorate the lobby with.” Masako emphasized her excitement somewhat conspicuously.
“Goodness.” Yuri began feeling just the slightest bit uneasy at the hostess’s strangely calm demeanor. The girl’s eyes were sharp and calculating, despite her young age.
“To be honest, I really don’t like people who work as performers,” said Masako, stacking the empty dishes into a black wooden box.
“Oh? Why’s that?” Yuri looked the hostess up and down. She was dressed perfectly in her kimono, her hair neatly arranged. Her motions were both efficient and beautiful, which was unusual. She was nowhere near the age of a veteran employee, but her appearance was flawless…a bit too flawless.
“People like that are always starved for love,” Masako replied without hesitation. “They were never recognized or loved when they were young. So when they grow up, they push themselves over the top in order to take back their unhappy childhood. It’s as if they’re seeking revenge. They’re always desperate to be needed by others, for people to think they’re special.”
Her face unchanging, Yuri continued scrutinizing the hostess.
“No matter how many days they spend in their fake little worlds with people fawning over them, every morning they wake up alone, wracked by nightmares. Typically, they lose sight of themselves, plagued with impatience and anxiety if someone doesn’t constantly reassure them with phrases like ‘You’re all I need.’ The more I think about it, famous people really are pitiful.”
“You speak as if you’ve seen this before.” Yuri placed her elbows on the now-clean table and stared at her fingernails, which were long and filed into a pleasing curve, decorated with pearly pink rhinestones.
“Yes. I’ve done a lot of looking into you, after all,” Masako sneered.
Yuri looked up. Masako’s eyes glinted back down at her. “Who are you?” Yuri demanded.
“I’ll be taking the other half of that diary!” Masako left the tray upon the floor, standing.
“I see. So you’re the one who has the other half.” Yuri stood up straight, pressing her hand to her chest.
“So? Soon it won’t be just half anymore. That’s what matters. Goodness, we better crush you soon!” Masako took out a small gun and took aim at Yuri.
“Don’t underestimate an actress!” Yuri shouted.
With that, the battle was underway.
I woke to the sound of breaking glass. The cold wind that blew in through the window chilled my whole body.
“Hm?” I lifted my head slightly and looked around the room. The lights were on in the adjoining room, and I could hear the gentle sound of waves. For a moment, I wondered where I was, until the silky material of the yukata and the smell of an unfamiliar futon reminded me that I was at a ryokan. As soon as I came to, my head began to pound. Just then, I noticed someone sleeping right beside me.
“Oginome-san!” I shouted, panicked.
Oginome-san was lying next to me on the same futon, sleeping with a peaceful expression on her face. Her yukata was properly rearranged, the blankets draped over us. Perhaps, despite everything, Yuri-san hadn’t done anything to her. Nor to me, of course. I let out a deep sigh of relief.
I recalled Yuri’s surprising, bewitching form, poised over Oginome-san’s nude body.
There was a one in a million chance that I happened to have been staying at the same ryokan on the same night when such dire circumstances were afoot. I was grateful for the coincidence, but what on earth was Oginome-san thinking, throwing her body away like that? If she had let Yuri-san take her chastity, changing “from a caterpillar to a butterfly” would have been the least of her concerns. I started to wonder how one woman could steal another’s virtue, but quickly abandoned the train of thought.
“Ooookay…” I sat up and rubbed my temples, then fixed the hem of my yukata.
Oginome-san looked so peaceful. Her eyes were closed tight, the sound of her breathing synced with the rise and fall of her chest. It wasn’t like watching Himari sleep—that always made me a little anxious. Himari’s breathing while she slept was like that of a little bird, so faint I sometimes feared she might fade away. Oginame-san, however, had a vivacious, lively way of sleeping. It might have been a strange way to phrase it, but it made me smile.
“Oh my. What a gentleman you are. I should have taken you out.”
I stood up with a start, positioning myself to shield Oginome-san. “Yuri-san!”
Yuri-san stood in front of me, clad in her yukata and sweeping her damp, disheveled hair gracefully. “While you were relaxing in here, someone came to steal the diary.”
“Huh?” I was taken aback. Was she referring to that diary?
“Momoka’s diary,” she clarified as I stood there speechless. “Don’t worry. The little mouse took a decoy and fled out toward the sea. Remember, it’s important to always keep your valuables in a safe when you travel.”
She opened up the little safe that came with the room, and pulled out half of the diary.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “I was the one who stole half of the diary from Ringo-chan. I have a desperate need for it.”
Since Yuri was the one with the other diary half, the one who had come here was probably the woman who abducted me at the hospital. I shuddered to think that there were even more people around who were after the diary—and the Penguindrum.
Seeing me collapse on the spot, Yuri-san chuckled. “You shouldn’t give up the things that are important to you so easily.”
With the still-sleeping Oginome-san at my back, the word “fate” leapt, unbidden, into my head. Were we truly being flung around at the whims of fate? Perhaps “we” now included Yamashita, who was now all alone in our room, either sleeping or killing some time.
Yuri woke up upon the workbench. She opened her eyes a crack and thought she saw a vague face in the wooden panels of the old-fashioned ceiling, its eyes staring back down at her in the dim studio. She felt around and found her shed clothes and unraveled bandages in a heap to the left of her naked body.
She sat up, hearing nothing but silence in the room until she softly murmured, “Papa?”
There was no reply. She hugged her own bare skin, shivering faintly.
“I’m…alive.” She looked down at her massively scarred body and began prodding here and there. She was terribly battered, her scars alone enough to make someone think she wasn’t human. It was as if a wholly different kind of organism latched onto her, like a parasite. However, although she remembered the chisel being swung, she found no new injuries, nor was there any of the pain she should have felt.
“Papa?” she uttered again, tentatively. There was no trace of the smell of tobacco from his pipe.
Suddenly, she realized there was something different about the usual smoky gray that loomed over the distant scenery outside. She turned to the window and was instantly lost for words. The dull-colored tower resembling the statue of David was gone. In its place was a gleaming red building with completely different architecture, one she had never laid eyes on before.
“The tower. It changed. Papa’s tower changed!”
Shaken, Yuri slowly put on her clothing and climbed down from the worktable, staring hard as she approached the window. Sure enough, where the tower had stood, there was now a red tower in its place.
She recalled the fantastic secret that Momoka had revealed to her in the park. Though she thought it impossible, she felt the pit of her stomach tighten, her pulse quickening.
Yuri searched the whole house for her father, and then raced outside. He was nowhere to be found. She would need to inspect the red tower next.
If Momoka had truly used a spell to change the tower, then her friend was going to be punished for changing fate. She would be paying the price, all for Yuri.
As she approached the vicinity of the tower, her shoulders heaving, she knew for certain that the ashen tower had transformed into something else entirely. As she ran straight ahead, she saw a crowd of people. Immediately, she pushed her way in.
“Momoka!”
From between the adults, she could see a young girl being carried on a stretcher. The adults murmured among themselves:
“It just happened. There was a lot of screaming.”
“Apparently that little girl just suddenly caught on fire.”
“How?”
“Who knows? But it happened really suddenly. I have no idea why.”
Yuri squeezed her way through the ring of onlookers, unable to speak, her whole body shaking. Momoka was being loaded into the ambulance, covered in large, terrifying burns—yet she still clutched the diary to her chest.
Yuri’s eyes went wide, her body freezing in place, so still she could scarcely breathe.
Momoka had not been lying. This was the price she had paid for saving Yuri. This was the method of punishment that God had chosen.
Why would God in all His wisdom ever do such a despicable thing?
As she sat beside Momoka’s bed, leaning across the sheets, Yuri felt a peace that she had never felt before in her life.
“Papa hasn’t come back,” said Yuri. She suddenly felt so sorrowful it surprised her, even though she had no right to ever worry about loving her father again.
“He’s not going to come back. He went away, along with the old tower,” Momoka said quietly, but with a voice hinting at a smile.
“You used your spell, didn’t you?” The peaceful feeling came flooding back.
“Yeah, I did,” she replied, as though it was no big deal.
“So this was the price you paid for setting me free.”
Momoka nodded slightly, as if to say there was no point confirming or denying it, just accepting it as a simple fact.
“Why would you do something like that?” asked Yuri, reaching out for the singed diary sitting neatly on the bedside table.
“Don’t!” Momoka suddenly shouted. Yuri’s hand stopped.
“Why not?”
“You can’t look inside!” Her eyes were sharp, powerful, as she gazed at Yuri. “You can’t get close to the junction. You’ll lose something important to you. That’s the price you pay.”
“Then why did you change my fate?” There was no reason in the world that Momoka should have been hurt so much simply for changing Yuri’s fate.
Momoka looked straight back at Yuri and laughed. With the tip of her finger, the only thing visible beneath the bandages, she touched Yuri’s hand.
“I told you, didn’t I? Because I love you. You’re beautiful just as you are.”
Yuri was unable to hold back the tears. Ironically, it was Momoka who should be crying, seeing as how she was in so much pain. But Yuri simply could not stop herself.
“Why are you crying?” Seeing Yuri’s face soaked with tears, Momoka stroked the top of her head with her fingertip.
From then on, Yuri spent as much time with Momoka as she could. She got to meet Tabuki Keiju, a good friend of Momoka’s, and soon came to make other friends as well. Still, the only one she truly believed in, the one she truly adored, was Momoka.
She cherished everything about Momoka: her hair that fell straight to her shoulders; her large, sharp eyes; the wide smiles on her face; her bravery in dabbling in anything that caught her interest. Upon reflection, Yuri had probably been smitten with her from the first time they met.
Day by day, these feelings warmed her heart, forming a little bud, which began to blossom a little bit at a time, as if it were being nourished by the warm days of spring. However, roughly one year after Momoka saved Yuri, Yuri was forcibly separated from her.
Momoka was in an accident and vanished utterly and completely right in front of Yuri’s eyes, just like Yuri’s mother and father. However, Yuri assured herself that if Momoka vanished because of that accident, then fate just needed to be changed again. This time, Yuri would use the spell written in the diary to change Momoka’s fate.
It was Yuri’s turn to make the sacrifice. She would get the diary and bring Momoka back, no matter what it took. She would bring back the gentle, cool feeling of holding her little hand.
Until then, she had to keep on living in a world without her love.