Chapter 01

Chapter 01

 

IN A FAIRLY WELL-OFF part of the city, our house stood out. It was a little one-story building from a previous era, with a flat, unassuming red roof, and a bright red mailbox at the entrance beside the old wooden sliding door. The colorful sheet metal walls faced out on a narrow yard, which was still plenty for drying our scant laundry. Thankfully, the lot beside ours was long-vacant, with only a few pieces of playground equipment left behind.

On clear days like this, bright sunshine filled our parlor. Soaking up warm sunlight was surely good for the body. As I sliced up a green onion—rather efficiently, if I did say so myself—I thought of the dream I had that morning.

I dreamed about a set of train tracks hanging in the darkness, barely illuminated by small lights on the edges of the tunnel. Endless darkness and a comforting swaying: the view from the windows of the head car of the subway train. I felt stuck, unable to escape, my very consciousness adrift. I was filled with dread, convinced a monster would leap at me from the darkness, but I could not avert my eyes.

The train showed no signs of stopping at any station, and there were no announcements over the speakers, nor voices or any evidence of other passengers. Even straining my ears, I could hear no music leaking from anyone’s headphones, nor clothes rustling. The only sound reverberating in my body was the ka-chunk ka-chunk, ka-chunk ka-chunk of the train running along the tracks.

I began to lose hope, praying the next station would arrive soon. This was a subway train, after all; it would be disastrous for it not to follow the timetable, to not stop at the station. It had to let me disembark.

I awoke with a voiceless scream—then realized that it was a dream.

It was hours before my alarm was set to go off, but I wasn’t about to go back to sleep. Glancing at my brother sleeping soundly beside me put me a little at ease. I did a bit of cleaning, then killed some time flipping through the morning news. I prepared some miso soup, chock-full of tofu like Himari always wanted, then took the cucumbers from last night—Himari’s favorite pickled vegetable—out of the nukadoko and piled them neatly in a little dish.

This particular nukadoko had been in our family for some time. It shocked me to learn that pickles were produced from such a smelly brown substance; I’d been stunned to see my mother casually plunge her hands into it. I wore rubber gloves when I mixed it, and tossed them in the trash afterward.

Honestly, for a high school boy to even be in possession of some nukadoko… I let out a self-effacing sigh.

I turned off the burner on the stove, took a taste right from the ladle, and gave a self-satisfied nod. Breakfast in the Takakura household was a standardized affair: white rice and a warm, hearty miso soup. Somehow, I inherited this routine without realizing it.

My brother awoke and put away the futons, and eventually our whole family was up and about.

Atop the low table in the tatami-floored parlor, three sets of bowls and chopsticks were laid out. Warm white vapor rose from the rice cooker. Fliers and coupons from the supermarket were pinned to the refrigerator with the cute magnets that Himari loved. All six of our shoes were lined up snugly by the front door. It was a perfect morning. A perfect, just-right morning.

As I carried over a tray lined with bowls full of miso soup, my eyes fell on our family photos. In one rectangular picture frame was a photograph of us three siblings and our parents, when we were young.

There was no Mother or Father on this perfect morning. Thus, it fell upon me, inheritor, to make our breakfast.

I despise the word “fate.” If our births, encounters, partings, successes, failures—whether we achieve happiness or fall into the arms of despair—are all determined by “fate,” then why on earth were we born into this world? What do we even live for?

Cured salmon and tamagoyaki, warm miso soup and pickles.

“Aniki, Himari, breakfast is ready,” I called to them together.

Some are born into prosperous homes. Some are born into poverty. Some are born beautiful, to beautiful mothers. Some are not. And, some are born thrust into the middle of famine or war. If all of those things are set in motion by the hands of “fate,” then God must be a horribly, outrageously cruel creature.

“Thanks for the food!” Himari said joyfully, pressing her hands together and smiling. Her hair was brushed out neatly, her lips glossy with lip balm. It always took her a while to get ready in the morning. I was relieved to see her looking bright-eyed and healthy today.

My brother and I shared our thanks for the meal in turn.

“Really pulled out the stops this morning, huh?” said my brother absently, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. We were both distracted, watching Himari pick up her bowl of miso soup, blowing a soft breath to cool it as she gently lifted it to her mouth. The sight set something aflame in us. Her face was beautiful in profile, her long eyelashes lowered. Her slender white throat moved ever so slightly as she swallowed.

“It’s delicious,” she said with a smile, enraptured.

“Is it good, then?” asked my brother, now wide awake.

“Yes. It’s been so long since I’ve had hot miso soup.”

“Of course. It was always cold at the hospital, wasn’t it?” my brother said softly.

Himari’s gaze lowered to her miso soup, smiling at the needless concern. “It was. But, more importantly, your soup tastes just like Mother’s, Sho-chan.”

“Himari.” Indeed. We all knew there was something decisively lacking in this morning scene. And yet, as long as we could all sit around the table like this, our family would survive. We were family, after all. There was no reason besides that. Or rather, that alone was reason enough.

We were keeping the Takakura family alive.

“Right? This guy’s already a perfect house husband, ain’t he? He knows when all the grocery sales are on, sorts the trash, does the laundry and the ironing perfectly. He’s even a master chef to boot,” said my brother brightly.

Himari cackled in reply and said, “He’ll make a wonderful groom someday.”

“That so?” I asked. I had no clear memories of our mother’s miso soup. But I was her child, so it’s possible that our tastes aligned. And if that made Himari happy, then that was fine with me.

“Say, you notice anything special about the room?” Himari suddenly asked playfully.

“Hm? I mean, I did a bit of rolling this morning, but I didn’t notice anything,” I said dully. I’d used a roll of sticky tape to clean, rolling it along the floor and furnishings. Our old vacuum was incredibly noisy and blew up a lot of dust, so it wasn’t suitable for prebreakfast cleaning.

“Did you make something again?” My brother whipped his head around quickly.

Himari was fond of crafting. She loved clothing, and her hands were small and skilled, so we often found her at her sewing machine or knitting. My brother and I didn’t understand everything she made, but if Himari created them, then they were “cute things,” and found a home as “new friends” in Himari’s room or the parlor.

According to Himari, the world was mostly comprised of cute things. If you asked her what made up the rest, however, she would innocently reply, “Who knows?”

“The answer is: the curtains!” she announced.

We turned our gazes to the curtains. Now that I thought of it, I hadn’t done any rolling on them that morning.

“Oh, there on the corner,” I said as I noticed it. The words I’m home had been embroidered in English on the pink fabric in beautiful red cursive lettering. Next to them was a little flower design. “I didn’t even notice this,” I added.

“What is it?” my brother asked, peeking around me. “You’re gettin’ good at embroidery, Himari.”

She smiled, clearly pleased.

 

Despite being shown the X-rays and receiving a thorough explanation, we never fully understood the situation. I’m not sure understanding it would have done us any good, anyway. All that mattered was whether Himari would get better.

“I’m very sorry, but unfortunately, there is nothing more that modern medicine can do,” said Dr. Washizuka vaguely. “Himari-san has a few months at most. Perhaps.”

“No way…”

I could feel the strength leaving my body. There was the familiar, characteristic smell of the hospital, Dr. Washizuka’s disturbingly sterile white coat, the lightbox and its bright and hazy, translucent image of Himari’s insides.

“Perhaps? Don’t give me that crap, you’re a friggin’ doctor!” My brother stood with such force he knocked his stool to the ground, reaching for Dr. Washizuka.

“Kanba!” I shouted, standing and trying to stop him, but he seized the doctor by the collar.

“If this is about money, we’ll manage it! If she can’t be treated here in Japan, then we can take her overseas! If you need a transplant or something, you can take whatever you need from me! Just don’t tell me that there’s nothing you can do! Please just don’t say that!”

His grip suddenly loosened, and he collapsed on the spot, pressing his head to the floor.

“Please, you’ve gotta help her. Whatever the cost is, I’ll pay it. I don’t even care if that means my life for hers, just please save her!”

I was lost for words. Seeing my brother so upset tore my disbelief away, like the reality of our situation had been forcefully shoved down my throat. I stood there, unable to even wail like my brother, swallowed by a wave of memories and swirling emotions.

“Takakura-san, doctors are not gods,” said Dr. Washizuka, his voice low and regretful, though still cut and dry. He placed a hand on Kanba’s shoulder, urging him to raise his head.

“That’s because God doesn’t exist. He never has.”

I could only watch in a daze as my brother’s hands balled violently into fists, still trembling.

I hate the word “fate.”

Himari was released from the hospital, so that she could live out her remaining days with us, never knowing when the tiny flame of her life might burn out. She muttered an awkward, “Welcome home,” to us at the door, surrounded by her favorite dolls and stuffed animals.

Our little sister, braver and more precious than anyone else in this world. We could not fathom the idea of her no longer being with us. It was hard to truly imagine that this was reality, that our future might be snatched away from my brother and me, and most of all, from Himari.

A sluggish groan brought me back to my senses. Himari pulled away from the table and reclined on our little red sofa.

“Are you done, Himari?” I asked.

Looking at her dishes, I saw she’d left more than half of the food on her plate. She still couldn’t eat very much.

“Yeah, I’m full now. I really gorged myself there!” she said, delighted, letting out a sigh and rubbing her gut. “That was tasty, thank you!”

Sipping his warm, post-meal hojicha, Kanba chided, “That’s bad manners, Himari.”

“But today’s ‘Himari Day,’ so it’s fine,” she replied, puffing up her cheeks jokingly and blowing a raspberry.

“Himari Day? What is that?” he asked, glancing at me.

“Sho-chan said that I can do whatever I want today. That means today is Himari Day.”

“Hm, I see,” said Kanba, grinning at me. I averted my gaze, popping a pickle into my mouth and crunching on it.

“Kan-chan, Sho-chan, y’know something? I’m happy,” said Himari, her eyes shut.

Her long hair fanned around her on the sofa. She wore her favorite nightgown, as she had even in the hospital, a warm peach color. Her slender white legs thrust out from under it.

Kanba stared at her, and then finally gave a warm smile, as though letting out a sigh. “That’s true. You’re here, Shoma is here, and we have a home. I guess that’s what happiness is.”

Happiness. That feeling didn’t seem real to me, but I wasn’t about to interrupt their joyful exchange with my gloom.

“Hey, hey!” Himari sat up suddenly, as though something wonderful had just sprung to mind. “Do you think they still have penguins over at that aquarium?”

 

Though there was no one else besides us, at some point we had begun saying, “Be back later!” to our empty house whenever we went out.

Himari Day was blessed with clear, lovely weather, and we boarded the train from Ogikubo, headed for the aquarium. Himari wanted to take a roundabout, nostalgic route to our destination, traveling on the line that our family most often used to take. This was Himari Day, after all, so my brother and I acquiesced, and the three of us set out on our first excursion together in ages.

Himari looked like a little doll. She wore a frilly blouse tied with a delicate ribbon at the front and long cowboy boots, her skirt billowing out from her waist like a flower. Her cheeks were pinked from the effort of her brisk pace. My brother sat lazily, even now still looking drowsy.

As I gripped the ceiling strap, watching the two of them, I was surprised all over again at the three of us being together. There Himari really was, right beside us, all dressed up and smiling.

“Hey, Kan-chan, do your otter impression,” she said, tugging on his sleeve.

“Huh? Otter? Oh.” His face reddened.

“That time we all went to the aquarium together, you kept doing the otter thing afterward. With an orange sitting on your stomach,” she said, bursting into laughter.

“Hey, shut up! I was a stupid kid back then. I barely even remember that.”

“Things were so fun back then,” she said, gazing outside of the darkened windows.

Lost in my own thoughts, I did not see the gloomy expression she wore for just a moment. But as soon as Kanba, more sensitive, picked up on it, he called to me in a half-panicked voice, “Hey, Shoma. Wasn’t your seahorse impression pretty great, too?”

“Hm? What?” I was still staring out at my own reflection in the window, and the darkness rolling beyond it.

“What’s with you?” he asked. “You’ve been spacin’ out this whole time.”

“I was just thinking how long it’s been since we’ve done something fun.” Saying so made me a little afraid.

“It really has been a while,” Himari said softly. “It’s like a dream… Sorry for the big detour.”

A heavy silence fell over Kanba and me. There was a difficult moment before we mustered up the strength to reply. “It’s okay.”

I looked back at the darkness rolling past the window. Floating in the darkness beyond the glass was the clear reflection of my own vacant face.

 

Because it was a weekend, the Sunshiny National Aquarium in Ikebukuro was packed. There were families and couples and groups of girls. And us. Even I grew a little excited as we bought our tickets and stepped inside, our first visit in so long.

The darkness in the aquarium was different from that of the train. The deep blue of the large, thick glass panes seemed like it might suck me right in. In that strange atmosphere, everyone walked along holding hands or chatting, walking along so as not to get separated, or else stood still, peering inside. There were tanks with large fish swimming quickly, and tanks with vividly colored warm-water fish, and tanks where strangely formed deep sea fish and kelp swayed.

“If you start feelin’ bad, tell us right away,” Kanba said in his usual reliable way.

“I’m fine,” Himari replied, her gaze full of happiness mixed with nostalgia.

Kanba led us onward, diligently making sure that Himari did not bump into anyone. Popular guys really are their own breed, huh? We may have been brothers, but I didn’t resemble him in the slightest when it came to how we treated women.

The penguins carefully climbed up an artificial rockface, standing still, tottering around. They formed into lines and dove into the water, gliding smoothly under the surface. They swam elegantly back and forth before our eyes, as swiftly and smoothly as if they were flying through the sky, a completely different creature from how they looked on land.

“Whoa. The penguins are such good swimmers!” Himari was impressed, watching with rapt attention from the front row. Honestly, I had long forgotten that penguins could move in such a way.

“Yeah, even though they look a little silly on land.” Their wings looked both like fins and hands.

“I bet the penguins would be annoyed to hear that coming from you, Shoma.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I shot a glare at my brother. At roughly the same time, he pulled his cell phone from his back pocket.

He glanced at the LCD and said plainly, “Sorry, gotta go make a call.”

“Another girl? If you don’t cool it you’re gonna get burned someday,” I sighed wearily.

“It’s fine, I’m playin’ my cards right,” he said, before leaving our row and disappearing into the crowd. Truthfully, I already knew this. Some days he received countless calls and texts from his rude ex-girlfriends, and even when he didn’t, he was still ruthless in his dealings with the fairer sex. I once had the terrifying experience of seeing him thrust a girl’s love letter back at her one morning at school, telling her, “No thanks, I’m good.” He wore the same expression as when he was taking out the trash.

Girl after girl from various schools, wearing all sorts of uniforms, sought out my brother to confess their love to him. And then they went straight back home.

When I asked what he meant by, “No thanks, I’m good,” he explained calmly, with a stony expression, “It means that I’m already fully satisfied right now.”

“Playing his cards right?” I wondered aloud. “Ew. I wouldn’t want to catch Kanba’s filthy playboy germs.”

Himari did not respond, or at least, she did not turn around. She seemed to be staring at something beyond the penguins in front of her.

“That penguin over there…” she said softly, pointing her finger.

“Huh? Which one?” I followed her gaze carefully, but only saw identical and indistinguishable penguins, shuffling on the rocks and darting through the water. I glanced back at her profile.

“Which one do you mean?”

“Honey, no running, you’re going to hurt someone,” came a voice, in the sweet but grave tone that mothers were so adept at. Even if you have no intention of listening, a voice like that always catches your attention.

A little boy wearing a hat with a penguin design came running up just beside us, stopping just before colliding with me. “Mama! There’s a lot of penguins here!” he squealed.

“Goodness! Keep your voice down.” The smile on the mother’s face belied her stern words.

The boy’s father caught up with them, watching over his wife and son. “You’ll make all the penguins run away. Look,” he said, gently lifting up the boy. He showed him the rockface in the enclosure from up on his shoulders. “Hello, Penguin-san.”

The boy smiled, bursting with joy, clinging onto his father’s sturdy arms.

“Someone’s having fun.” The mother’s smile grew.

It was a perfect, just-right morning. The smell of hot miso soup wafting from the kitchen. A smiling family. A clear autumn sky. An outing, just like the old days. From the outside, nothing had changed. But really, everything had.

What expression was I wearing just then? Whatever it was, I knew I couldn’t let Himari see it.

“Want to go pick out some souvenirs, Himari?” I asked cheerfully. “I’ll buy you whatever you like today, my treat. How’s that sound?”

“Really? Of course! This is Himari Day, after all,” she said, beaming.

“And Kanba’s taking a phone call over there anyway, so let’s go.”

I just wanted to get out of there. It wasn’t that I hated the penguins, of course, nor did I hate the family standing next to us. Still, I had to get away. I was always felt wretched when I encountered children, useless and awkward even if I looked outwardly calm. Just seeing that thirty-second interaction made my heart twinge painfully. My sadness was so heavy it was painful to breathe, as if my lungs were being crushed. I know that Himari or Kanba would have been able to handle themselves. They would think nothing of standing there and smiling calmly. But I couldn’t pretend that nothing was wrong.

Seeing Himari’s slender back before me, I had no idea if I could protect her all alone. I was startled at how thin my own shadow was, stretching across the floor, so much smaller than life.

But I couldn’t say such things, so I kept silent.

 

The walls and shelves of the aquarium gift shop were a uniform ocean blue. Himari looked around triumphantly at all of the toys and plushies of sea-dwelling critters.

“What’s your favorite sea creature, Sho-chan?” she asked me as she carefully examined each of the stuffed animals, innocently stating her impressions of them. “This one’s cute! The nose on this one looks too big, doesn’t it? Didn’t we see one of these today?”

“Hmm, let me think,” I said, suddenly thinking of salmon and flounder—fish I liked to eat. “Uhm…” Scallops were going to be in season soon, and extra tasty. Squid and herring and urchin were expensive and hard to get, but I had seen them down in one of the tanks.

“Do you hate fish?”

Suddenly, I noticed Himari looking up at me, her dissatisfaction plain.

“No, that’s not it. Look, I was just thinking, like, the penguins were really cute, but there were lots of other ones, too.”

She smiled, with a “hmm,” and headed for a different corner of the store. I felt more like a glutton now than a house husband.

“What’s your favorite sea creature then, Himari?”

“Hmm, all of them,” she said with a grin. I could only smile back at this unexpected reply. Of course, that was just like her.

“Wow, this one is awesome! It’s just like the real thing!” she said, cuddling a large plush otter. “It’s so soft.” I could practically hear the heart emoji floating at the end of the words.

“Whoa, it really is.” I let out a cry of surprise when I glimpsed the price tag. It was expensive. I hadn’t expected that, either. But I already told her that I would buy her whatever she wanted.

“Oh, but…” she said, placing the expensive otter back on the shelf. Oh, good. “If I need an otter, I’ve already got Kan-chan, so never mind. I’ll have him do his impression at home.”

“I wonder if you can still get him to do that,” I said, but I would graciously concede if she gave up the plush otter thanks to Kanba. There was no choice but for him to become a sacrificial lamb to save us the expense.

“He’ll do it. Today is ‘Himari Day,’ isn’t it? He’s my otter, and you’re my seahorse,” she tacked on, triumphantly.

“Huh? I have to do it too?” I had no idea what a seahorse impression looked like. Apparently, it was something I had done in the past, but I had no memory of it. How was I supposed to impersonate a creature with no distinctive movements or expressions, like an otter had? I wished I could ask my past self, A seahorse impression? Really?

“Yep. Because today…” Himari grabbed a hat with a penguin design from a nearby shelf and placed it atop her head, puffing out her chest lightly. “…I’m the queen!”

At once my eyes began to sparkle. “Himari, that’s perfect! That’s disgustingly cute!”

“Right?” said our queen, giving a little spin. I was no match for her precious, cheerful face. My present to her would be that hat, and that was final.

This couldn’t be bad at all, I thought, watching as the shop clerk carefully wrapped the hat up in bright gift wrapping paper. I was here and Kanba was here and Himari was here, the three of us together. This was a wonderful thing, wasn’t it?

“What color ribbon would you like?” the clerk asked, showing me color samples for the ribbons. My gaze went immediately to the red and the pink ribbons, but I unhesitatingly replied, “The pink one, please.”

“Yo, I was lookin’ for you two.” A hand clapped me on the shoulder, and I turned to see Kanba standing there, scowling.

“Yeah, we were looking for you, too. You got that call and vanished off to somewhere,” I protested. I took the paper bag that the kind shop clerk handed me with a grateful nod.

“So, where’s Himari?” Kanba asked.

“Hm? Right over there, isn’t she?” I cast my eyes around the crowded gift shop, but there was no sign of her.

“Idiot, you were supposed to be keeping an eye on her.” Kanba’s face twisted.

“She was with me this whole time,” I said.

Just then, a terrible voice rang in our ears.

“Hey, someone call an ambulance! Some girl just collapsed in the plaza!”

“No way.” My blood ran cold. “It can’t be.”

Without a word, my brother broke into a sprint. I followed behind him, equally silent. We ran down the stairs to see a crowd of people near a stage, beneath a schedule for the sea lion show.

“Himari!” My brother shoved his way to the center of the crowd. I followed behind him, shouting, “Sorry, that’s our sister! Please let us through!”

I tripped.

In the middle of the murmuring crowd, Himari was faceup on the ground.

“Himari! Himari!” Kanba held her up gently, shouting, but she was completely unresponsive, her eyes firmly shut, her pale pink lips open slightly.

“We’ve called an ambulance, so let’s get her to the medical office right away,” someone said. The voice was nearby, and probably belonged to an employee of the aquarium. But between the beating of my heart, and the sound of blood pounding in my ears, I could not tell who spoke.

“Please,” Kanba murmured, as Himari was whisked away on a stretcher.

Once more, I felt the vivid sensation of being paralyzed and unable to act, the muscles in my face frozen.

 

Himari, who laughed and smiled not so long ago at all, was now as silent as a doll, unconscious in the ICU. An IV was taped to her arm, her face was covered by an oxygen mask, and numerous tubes that we could not make heads or tails of snaked around her. A small monitor indicated that her heart was still beating, though it was faint.

“Takakura-san! Takakura Himari-san!” the doctors called over and over again, but she did not reply.

We could only call out to her from the other side of a large glass pane. The doctors and nurses kept moving around frantically, the sight of which alone told us that her condition was critical.

“Her pulse is dropping!”

“Doctor!”

Just as Dr. Washizuka rushed to Himari’s side, the small blips on the monitor ceased moving, the line going flat. All the numbers dropped to zero.

Both my brother and I understood what this meant, but neither of us could say a word. We knew what would happen next. Some nurse or doctor confirmed the time on the clock, and then looked sadly at us. And then, they stated it: the hour and minute at which Himari’s life had run out. And then, their condolences.

“Takakura Kanba-kun, Shoma-kun, we are sorry to say that your dear sister has passed away,” they said to us.

I felt the temperature in my body drop. My legs felt like they were floating. I’m certain that in that moment, my face was even paler than Himari’s, who lay still in that bed, no longer breathing.

“Aniki,” I managed to wring out.

Kanba stared at Himari like a statue, his face unchanging: not smiling nor crying, not showing anger, nor hatred.

“Takakura-san—or, no, Kanba-kun, Shoma-kun. Please allow me to offer my condolences.”

Dr. Washizuka’s speech ended before we realized it had even begun. Just what in the world did he mean by “condolences”? It seemed to suggest something like, “well, that’s unfortunate, the poor thing.”

If only this were a dream. I could open my eyes, slap my brother awake, and run to Himari’s room. It might be three in the morning, or six. Kanba, always a grouch on waking, might kick me away, or complain loudly. It didn’t matter—I would sit by the side of the large canopy bed where Himari slept, calming my frantic breathing, watching over her until the sun rose.

 

The surfaces within the high-ceilinged morgue became strangely translucent where the evening sun shone through. A strange and solemn atmosphere filled the room, like it was a church in some foreign land.

Atop the small bed, Himari was wrapped in unadorned white sheets, a white cloth over her face. Kanba slumped against the wall and stared blankly as I clutched the sheets, my face a mess of tears.

“Himari, why did you have to go so soon?” I whimpered. My throat was so tight, I could hardly speak.

“Guess that doctor wasn’t such a quack after all…” said Kanba, his voice cold and blank. “He said that it was strange that she could even be walking around in her current condition. He said that we should be prepared for it to happen at any moment.”

Even with the sun coming through, the morgue had a vague chill. The distinctive smell of dead people hung in the air, and Kanba’s voice echoed.

“This was her fate,” he said. “She got to go in a place from her favorite memories, without pain or suffering. At the very least, I think she was happy.”

He took a deep breath and pulled away from the wall. As I held back my sobs, listening to his words, my face now twisted up for a different reason.

“Anyway, we should get in touch with Uncle Ikebe. There’ll be a lot of arrangements and procedures to deal with.”

“How…” My voice was quiet, still strained but steady. I shot up, turned, and grabbed my brother hard by the collar. “How could you, in front of Himari? How could you say something so cold in front of our little sister?!” I squeezed at his chest with a strength I didn’t know I possessed.

“I’m just accepting the facts as they are,” he coolly replied.

“What about this is fact?!” Still gripping his lapels, I shoved him against the wall. A thud echoed in the room, but neither his stance nor expression were shaken. “How is this fate?! Why Himari? Why would this happen to her?! She was a girl who would say that just eating breakfast with her family made her happy—why her?!”

I started to weep again, looking down so that he could not see my face. I’m sure that my eyes were already red and swollen.

Kanba rested his hand softly atop my head. I lifted my face and saw his eyes. His expression was lonesome, his eyes wide and wild and unexpectedly kind.

“Because this was probably the punishment that we earned.”

I felt as though a nail had been driven through my heart. It was not as though I hadn’t considered this. But I decided it was a coincidence, nothing more than a passing fancy of my wildly childish imagination. I locked the thought away inside a little black box that sat at the corners of my mind, and thrown away the key.

Punishment. Of course. We were children who could only expect to be punished. Children who were probably hurting others just by continuing to live as we were. And Himari had taken on that burden. Our little Himari, all on her own.

“Survival Tactiiiiic!!”

The two of us nearly leapt out of our skin at the sudden loud voice. Kanba looked toward Himari’s body, and his eyes went wide. I slowly turned around as well, my shoulders tensed.

Somehow, Himari sat up, with the penguin hat that we just bought her at the aquarium gift shop atop her head. The white cloth that covered her face fluttered to the floor.

“H-Himari?” I said.

The loud voice sounded like an imitation of Himari’s. It was certainly the same voice, but the strength, intonation, and force of delivery were all completely alien.

Perhaps because of the light of the setting sun, her eyes seemed to glow red, staring out from a hollow expression.

“We have come from the place where your fates reside. Rejoice! We have deigned to extend this girl’s life. Kneel before us and show your gratitude, cretins!”

I was lost for words. I glanced at Kanba, but he was of course equally speechless.

A strange smile leapt to Himari’s lovely face, and she continued, “If you wish for this girl to continue to live…” She spoke only that far, her words cut off with a haughty grin.

I leaned forward, continuing to listen.

Suddenly, her posture shifted, and she looked at each of us with cold eyes. Then she lowered her head slightly, and her hat slipped forward and plopped down on the sheets.

“Oh!” I reflexively reached forward to pick up the hat, then said, “H-Himari? Is that really you?”

I quickly forgot about the hat, peering at Himari’s blank face.

“Where… am I?” she asked, looking nervously at the bed she had been lying in. “What was I doing?”

“Oh, um…” I didn’t know what to say. I’d been certain that the Himari speaking now knew nothing about what was going on. Who had spoken before, then? And how was a girl who should have been dead sitting up and looking at me this way?

“You just passed out for a bit at the aquarium. Don’t worry about it,” Kanba assured her with a smile, coming up from behind me. He cast a glance at me and added, “Isn’t that right?” He begged me with his eyes. Don’t say anything unnecessary.

I nodded. “Right. That’s right. I’m sure that being around all those people just wore you out. It was a pretty busy morning.”

All that we needed right then was to confirm with our own eyes that Himari was alive. We had merely been mistaken in assuming Himari to be dead. Surely, it had all been a misunderstanding.

“Thank goodness you’re alive, Himari!” I said without thinking, throwing my arms around her. As I spoke, tears welled up. These tears were different from the ones that came before. “I’m so glad.”

“Come on, Sho-chan, you’re making a scene,” Himari said, placing her tiny hands on my shoulders. The faint warmth coming from her skin was more proof that she was alive.

“Right? He’s such a weirdo,” Kanba said with a chuckle, but his lips were twisted, and he kept having to wipe welling tears away with his sleeve. “Yeah?”

As he spoke, he made a surprisingly stern face, staring at the penguin-shaped hat that had fallen onto the sheets.

“Kan-chan?” Himari said softly, seeing his weirdly serious expression.

“Oh, never mind. I guess you really shouldn’t try to push yourself just yet, Himari.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

He was probably thinking of how Himari had been when she awoke, acting like a completely different person.

Seriously though, what had that been about? It was bizarre enough that Himari had come back from a declared death; it was even stranger that she put on some kind of performance when she did. Still, just like Kanba had yet to address it, I myself was of no mind to bring it up. I had no idea what I would even say.

Maybe this really was all just a dream. Just a fleeting nightmare. I had a peculiar dream just this morning, hadn’t I?

“I’m gonna go get Dr. Washizuka,” Kanba said quietly, patting Himari on the head as if to confirm she was really there. Then, he signaled to me with his eyes.

We were in a morgue, after all, and Himari had been dead for a time. I had no doubt that Kanba was off to tell Dr. Washizuka and ask him not to make a big scene in front of Himari.

“It’s already evening, huh,” Himari said mysteriously. “This is a weird room.”

“I think this is, um, some kind of special examination room that Dr. Washizuka put you in just in case. They had to do some kind of emergency exam. They didn’t find anything, though.”

I couldn’t find it in myself to continue, but Himari nodded. “I see,” she said, as though this made perfect sense to her.

“Sorry,” she added with a distant smile. “All I do is worry you two.”

“Th-that’s not true! Today’s Himari Day, isn’t it? You should be conducting yourself with even more regality, your Majesty!”

Sure enough, it was already dark outside. From here, we would head home, and I would rush to make us some dinner, which we would all eat together. Then I’d brew some nice warm tea, and we’d relax in front of the TV, then take baths in our usual order, say good night to each other, and head to bed. Himari Day would end without a hitch.

Seeing Himari’s gentle smile soothed my troubled soul, and I felt like I was finally returning to a kind, uneventful reality.

 

A few days passed, and Himari’s health showed no signs of deteriorating. On the contrary, she seemed exceedingly healthy.

The shock and bewilderment on Dr. Washizuka’s face was clear when he saw this—he feverishly told my brother and I, “I can’t believe it. To think that anyone could make such a recovery from that state… Right now, I would say her condition is completely stable. Honestly, I don’t think it’s a stretch to call this a miracle.”

“I’d like to start taking on some of the responsibilities around the house from now on,” said Himari. “It’s gotta be hard for you to be doing it all on your own, Sho-chan.”

Today she wore sarouel denim pants in saxe blue with large white polka dots, with black suspenders. With a tidy, round-necked t-shirt and her hair parted in two braids, she looked even livelier than usual.

“I can do it,” Kanba interrupted in a mumble. This was followed by a large yawn.

“Can you actually handle anything more than cleaning out the bath?”

Kanba stuffed his face full of omelet, unconcerned with my protest.

“Look, that takes a lot of work,” he muttered, his face emphatic.

“You’re shameless,” I said.

His chopsticks moved diligently as he looked up at the sky with bleary eyes, ignoring my snipe. When he was eating was the only time he seemed focused.

“Seconds!” Himari said forcefully, thrusting out her little bowl.

“Yo, you okay?” Kanba asked reflexively.

A smile leapt to my face. “Of course,” I said, taking the bowl. “I’m making your portion a little on the small side, but you don’t have to force yourself to eat it.”

“I feel completely fine, though. Dr. Washizuka told me to start doing anything that I felt capable of, too.” She then lowered her gaze, a little shyly, and muttered. “I wonder if I’ll be able to go back to school soon.”

I felt my heart squeeze as I looked at her. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Kanba making a nervous face as well.

Honestly, I don’t think it would be a stretch to call this a miracle.

I reflected on the doctor’s words. If this was a real miracle, then I was sure that she would be able to return to school. But it was too early to say for certain.

We were still afraid. What if this miracle’s power was limited and ran out?

“I’m sure you’ll be able to go back to school soon,” I said with a smile, thinking about how I would comfort her if the reality turned out otherwise. I’m sure that my brother thought the same thing.

He and I did not look that much alike, but we were identical when it came to treasuring our little sister.

“Here you go, seconds,” I said, handing back Himari’s dish. My eyes happened to fall on the penguin hat, which was sitting atop the globe in the corner of the room.

Just then, our ancient intercom crackled to life with a buzz.

“Coming,” I said. I opened the door to see an out-of-breath deliveryman standing there.

“I have a refrigerated package for delivery. This is the Takakura residence, correct?”

I signed for the package and took the cold box from the man. There was no sender listed. If it was not from Uncle Ikebe, I could not think of a single person who would ship something in a cooler to our house. On the contents line of the slip, “Living Thing” was written in harsh letters.

I carried the surprisingly heavy box to the parlor, where I carefully opened the packaging.

Inside were three large black round things, thoroughly chilled.

“What are those?” Himari asked curiously, peeking inside.

“The label said they were alive, but…”

She prodded one of them with her finger, saying, “I wonder if these will all fit in the fridge.” This seemed like an irrelevant concern to me.

“Are they edible? Some kind of giant eggplants? Are they seafood?” asked Kanba, watching on high alert as Himari continued to poke them.

“No idea. And who sent these, anyway?”

“Yo, Shoma, school time,” he said, urging me on.

I looked frantically to the clock on the wall. It was already so late I’d probably be tardy no matter how hard I tried.

“Oh, crap!” I stood up, grabbing my school bag. “I’ll trust Himari to you for today, then!” I ran to the entryway, shoving my feet into my loafers. Just as I slid the sliding door open, I heard a voice from behind.

“See you soon!”

I turned to see Himari, who stood there quietly, waving her hand with a smile.

“I’ll see you later,” I said. As a relaxed smile drifted to my face, I thought, Ah, that’s right. This, this is what they call happiness. Things will probably be fine. I probably don’t need to worry anymore. I made my way cheerfully to school, gazing up at the pale, bright autumn sky.

Needless to say, I was late. Still, I felt good. Even being late couldn’t put a dent in my good mood.

 

The class I was assigned to was year 2, class A, at Torigaienishi Senior High School. The classroom was infused with a lazy apathy after lunchtime. There was something suspicious to the drifting of the clouds outside the window, and I wondered if Kanba and Himari would notice and bring in the laundry before it rained.

Our homeroom teacher, Tabuki Keiju, delivered a tedious biology lecture, that combined with the postlunch fatigue nearly put the room to sleep. He was not particularly liked or disliked by the students of the all-boys school. Despite his relative youth, his main hobby was birdwatching. He wore glasses that were so unfashionable I’m not even sure where he could have bought them, and nearly always had a dopey, slightly uneasy smile. His lecture about the life cycle of a frog was about as lively as someone reciting a sutra.

“In other words, once the egg has been fertilized, through cleavage of the egg, the cells begin to multiply, growing into a morula from which the blastula is formed. Then, as we observed last time with the fertilization of the sea urchin, one part of the blastula moves to the interior. This is known as gastrulation, where the archenteron is formed.”

Hm, I wanna eat some urchin, I thought. Had we talked about urchin fertilization in the previous class? With everything that had happened, I’d let my schoolwork fall by the wayside.

“When it reaches this point, the three germ layers—the ectoderm, the endoderm, and the mesoderm—join, differentiating into cells of different shape and function.” Tabuki suddenly stopped speaking, looking at his wristwatch.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Any longer and I would’ve completely retreated into visions of urchins.

“That’s all for today. Next time, we’ll watch a video to get a more concrete look at those ontogenetic mechanisms.” Tabuki closed his textbook. “Are there any questions?”

These were the only moments when the whole room was silent.

“Then we’re adjourned. Frogs really are cute,” said Tabuki, grinning to himself.

He really loved animals, there was no doubt about that. The bell rang, and Tabuki exited the classroom.

I was suddenly overtaken by a pure and earnest joy. God, who had always been a cruel, fickle being, decided to bestow a miracle upon my family. Perhaps even we still somehow deserved happiness.

There were doodles of penguins in the margins of my notebook. That hat. That was truly strange. I wondered if that was the voice of God speaking through my sister, though it had been pretty foul-mouthed for a deity. Maybe it was just Himari? Well, regardless of whether it was God, a penguin, or a frog, it didn’t matter. Right now, I was happy.

 

After school was a busy time. There was shopping, laundry, and cleaning to do. Then, I had to prepare dinner, and after dinner I would have to peel some pears or something for us to eat together. I would cackle at some mindless television show and keep an eye on Himari to make sure she didn’t eat too many sweets.

Now that she was home from the hospital, more and more of Himari’s belongings had begun to appear around the house. There was facewash and lotion, a new toothbrush. The hairdryer, which my brother and I rarely used. New shampoo and conditioner. Treatment agents for long hair. Her clothes and underwear were mixed in with the laundry. The brilliant colors and scents of a young girl spread faintly throughout the house. Himari was definitely back home.

“Yo, little Takakura. How ’bout some tea on the way home? I found a place where this stupid cute part-timer works,” my classmate Yamashita proposed, violently grabbing my shoulders and prattling on.

“Sorry, in a bit of a rush today.” I gave him a wry smile, though deep down I was stunned that someone could be so loud and pushy.

“Whaaat? You’re so cold, little brother.” Yamashita pulled me closer unmaliciously and snuggled against my cheek. It was nice that he was so affectionate, but I never did well with this kind of clinginess. I was well aware that I didn’t act like a typical high schooler. At the moment, I was more concerned that all of the special sale items at the supermarket would sell out before I got there.

“What’s with you, though? Your bro would definitely have come. If you can’t be like your brother, you should know that always turning people down is bad for you. At least if you wanna be a normal member of society like us.”

Well, obviously. Kanba and I might have been twins, but we were separate people. Kanba was good-looking and had always been popular with girls. It wasn’t that I didn’t look like him, but I was kind of spacey and vacant. I would have made a great hardworking house husband, but I had no game when it came to girls. And I had no time for Yamashita’s clowning.

“It’s fine, get off me.” I shoved myself free of Yamashita. Three girls passed nearby us.

“Oh sweet, those were girls from Oukagyoen!” he said, pulling my sleeve, his interest suddenly piqued. “You see that girl in the middle? Not bad.”

The Oukagyoen uniform, with its refined black turtleneck t-shirt below a sailor suit, was well-known in this area. The girl in the middle that Yamashita had pointed out, her hair cut in a bob, glanced back toward us. More than likely, she overheard Yamashita. I quickly averted my eyes.

“Yo, you think that girl saw me? No, she definitely did. Wonder what year she is. Dang, I should’ve gotten her name or something. It’s times like this I wish big Takakura was here…” Yamashita watched the girls from behind, his hands cupped around his eyes like binoculars.

I immediately took advantage of Yamashita’s blessed distraction and made my exit.

Obviously, it wasn’t that I didn’t have any interest in girls. I always enjoyed it when idols or pretty actresses showed up on TV, and sometimes I even felt my heart race. But it was pointless. The number of responsibilities I had were like a large, open wound in my side. If I were to fall in love with a girl, I would have to show her that wound. I would have to ask her if she liked me, despite this gaping, unhealing laceration. I didn’t possess that kind of courage.

 

I touched the back pocket of my pants as I went to pass through the subway ticket gate, only to find I was without my commuter pass. I searched in my bag to see if I had put it there, even though that was something I never did.

“Hm?” I checked my pants, jacket, and the breast pocket of my school uniform, but it didn’t turn up.

It had to be here. I had it on the way to school, after all. Had I dropped it somewhere between arriving at school and now? I’d changed my clothes for gym earlier in the day, so maybe I’d left it behind in my locker. I decided to return to school and look for it there. If I did, though, then all of the sale items at the supermarket were definitely going to be gone. I couldn’t even imagine sending Kanba to buy them in my place.

Just as I sighed quietly to myself, there was a strange, prickling sensation somewhere around my thigh. I turned around to see a rotund little penguin, its round eyes sparkling, holding out my pass to me.

I stared fixedly at the creature. Other people around just walked past us, not noticing anything.

“My pass.” I took the pass from it. What else was I going to do? The penguin nodded firmly at me, just a faint motion.

“Crap, the sales!” I looked to the clock beside the gate in a panic, but when I looked back down, the penguin vanished.

“What?” I craned my neck while taking off in a jog through the gate and climbed onto the train.

If this was just a wild dream, then how could I explain the pass that I now held in my hand?

 

When I arrived at the supermarket in question, I found an empty cabbage stand beneath a sign proclaiming in bright red letters, “Advertised Item!”

“Too late, huh?”

My shoulders slumped in disappointment. As they did, I caught sight of the penguin from before, firmly gripping a sliced half of a cabbage and looking my way. It silently handed me the cabbage half, and then waddled off.

“Hey, wait a minute.”

I glanced at the cabbage in my hands to see a tag with the words “Organic, Pesticide-free. 350 yen.”

“That’s expensive,” I muttered unconsciously. Was the penguin trying to make friends with me? I hadn’t done anything that would deserve this kind of gesture. Just then, the image of Himari’s penguin-patterned hat flashed suddenly to mind. Nothing but penguins these days. All in ridiculous
forms.

I returned the expensive cabbage to its place, but I hadn’t been able to get my hands on the cheap ones either, so I bought a more mid-range cabbage. I stuffed other cheap ingredients and daily essentials into a fold-up nylon bag. I had a lot of points racked up at this supermarket. I grinned to myself.

By the time I left the market, it had already grown quite dim outside, and a light drizzle started to fall.

“So, it was supposed to rain, then? Wonder if they brought the laundry in…” I looked up at the sky and sighed. I could make out soft, faint trails of gray clouds in the pale sky. Just then, again I heard the pattering of little feet. I looked down, to find a round little penguin holding out an opened umbrella.

I really didn’t think I was that exhausted.

I called out to a mother and child who were exiting the supermarket.

“Um, pardon me.”

“Yes?” answered the woman.

“This is kind of an odd question, but this thing is a penguin, right? Or, what is it?” I asked, pointing to the penguin who loitered absently nearby.

“What?” A clear look of suspicion spread across the woman’s face, and she pulled hurriedly away from me, as if to protect the small child.

“Mama, what’s that man saying?”

“Shh, don’t look at the man. Come on, let’s go,” she said, throwing in as a bonus the sort of line I had only ever heard on TV.

I looked down at the penguin, only to see its expressionless black eyes staring clearly back up at me. Declining to take the umbrella, I stepped away from the penguin at once, turned my back, and hurried away.

The smell of dampened clothes and vegetables and asphalt. The chilled air. Without even realizing it, I had begun running from the penguin. My wet bangs clung to my forehead.

“What the hell was that?!” Though the house was not far at all from the market, the rain grew stronger by the minute, and I was already soaked through. Along the way, I looked back timidly, to see the penguin waddling full tilt behind me, the still open umbrella wobbling back and forth. Now terrified, I ran as fast as I could to the front and opened the familiar sliding door.

“Yo, you finally home?” asked Kanba, poking his head out from the kitchen. “How’d you get so wet?”

“Hey. I’m beat. Something weird happened,” I started to call inside, when I looked up into the doorframe and stopped. There stood another round little penguin, the spitting image of the one that followed me around, blinking at me with its little black eyes.

“What, did he not make it to you? We sent him out with the umbrella and everything,” said Kanba, his expression blank.

“Did who not make it to me?” I asked, shuffling out of my loafers. As I stepped into the parlor, detouring around the penguin at my brother’s feet, my eyes fell upon Himari, sitting on the sofa beside another identical penguin, doing some knitting. I felt dizzy.

“They’re the ‘living things’ that came this morning,” said Kanba in a way that suggested that was obvious information, pointing at the open cardboard box.

“‘Living things’?” No way. Did he mean those cold, round things that had been inside the package?

I heard the front door open quietly behind me. A penguin folded its umbrella, and quietly shut the door, stepping right up into the house.

“What is going on here?”

“You should go dry off already, you’ll catch a cold,” Kanba said.

“I know that.”

I headed first to the kitchen, putting the cold items I purchased today into the refrigerator.

“Welcome home, Sho-chan. Here’s a towel,” said Himari, draping a bath towel over my head.

“Hey there, Himari.” A smile popped to my face at once.

“We took all the laundry in!”

“Thank you.”

A penguin was following along restlessly at Himari’s feet, but she did not appear especially surprised at all, merely patting it gently on the head.

Why was I the only one surprised here? Things were starting to grow absurd.

 

I changed into dry clothes and sipped some warm tea while toweling off my hair. Kanba sat cross-legged, quietly drinking his tea as well. My body was warm, and the sound of the rain was a comfort to my chaotic, confused mind. It finally seemed like things were calming down.

Himari was playing with one of the penguins. The penguin, who had now been decorated with a felt cap with a big ribbon on top, sat opposite her. She grinned, poking its cheeks and touching its tail, offering her stuffed animals to it. The penguin stared at her face, and then pecked at the stuffed animals in her hand with the tip of its beak.

“So, what is this? Why are these penguin-y things wandering around our house?” I asked.

“What do you mean? Can’t you see? When we thawed out that delivery from this morning, these came out. They seem to understand what we’re saying, so we can probably use ’em for gofers.”

Hearing the word, “gofer,” I thought of the train pass and the cabbage, and the umbrella. I glanced at the penguin sitting quietly at my side.

“I guess? But I mean, this is weird, isn’t it? Having three penguins tumbling around the house. And besides, they…”

If I was not mistaken, we three were the only ones who could see them.

“You’re gonna say that no other humans can see ’em, right?” Kanba said promptly, nodding toward the table. There sat a familiar bundle of traditional sweets from the Ikebe household.

“Uncle Ikebe was by, then?”

Our uncle’s family ran an old sweets shop, and he worried about our family, not having any adults around, so now and then he stopped by to check on us. He always brought some sweets with him.

“Yeah, he came to see how Himari was doing. These guys were wandering around right in front of him, but he didn’t seem to notice at all,” said Kanba, casually opening up the bundle.

The sweets had a familiar taste, and though this variety was not especially delicious, they were comforting in their mediocrity, the kind of thing I craved now and then.

“Even if that’s true, the two of you seem way too relaxed about this whole thing. How can you act like this is completely normal?”

“It’s not like making a fuss would change anything. Plus, you seem just as chill with it, sitting there holding a cup and staring off into space.”

The packaging rustled as he opened the box of sweets, unwrapped a manju, and began eating.

“I am not chill about this. I just have no idea what to do,” I argued, but I could not deny that I sat there as calmly as my siblings, resigned.

I shut my mouth and breathed in deeply.

“Survival Tactiiiiic!!”

Kanba and I whirled around at the sudden scream.

Himari, who moments ago played with a penguin, was no longer there. Incidentally, neither was the living room we had just been standing in.

A blast of white winds disrupted my vision. I quickly tried to cover my eyes with my hands, but something warm brushed against my forehead and cheeks ceaselessly, and I forgot whatever I’d been about to say. I timidly opened my eyes to see that it was not the wind touching my face, but countless layers of fine lace.

I was in a place I had never been before, darkness stretching as far as the eye could see, with brilliantly twinkling stars scattered throughout like beads. It was like outer space, though of course I had never been there.

The three penguins stood in a line before the fluttering lace.

There was a rich, somehow nostalgic fragrance. A driving rhythm emanated from somewhere, steadily increasing in volume. Lights flashed in all the colors of the rainbow.

I momentarily met the eyes of my brother, who sat cross-legged a short distance from me, but both of us were struck completely speechless. There didn’t seem to be anything to communicate, no facts or understanding.

Then came sharp footsteps. Himari suddenly appeared in the strange space from out of the ceaselessly fluttering soft, white waves, wearing the penguin hat. However, the penguin looked strangely mature, elegant, transfigured into something like a real crown. Bathed in white light, she spread both arms with the finesse of a ballerina, her long hair unfurling forcefully behind her like an angel’s wings.

Her eyes were red, and a sharp light shone from them.

A peach-pink ribbon encircled the round collar beneath her face. Shining black gloves encircled her arms, ending just beneath her fingertips, leaving them bare. She was unmoving, a beautiful, doll-like form.

A black latex corset with white frills around the bottom highlighted her slender body, and from the bottom ballooned a skirt, so long it dragged across the ground. She wore high-heeled, knee-length boots, form-fitted to her dainty legs. These, too, were glossy and black. It was a penguin dress, through and through.

She walked forward with a cold expression, heels making a sharp chk chk on the floor. She looked down on us and smirked.

The driving rhythm shifted subtly, as though in tune with Himari’s every movement, sucking in time itself.

Himari suddenly crouched down, and each time she glanced at our faces, the rhythm followed. It grew impossibly loud, so loud that I instinctively tried to cover my ears. But Himari’s clear voice resounded.

“Surely, you worthless nothings shall be told!”

Himari straightened her back, waving her arms over our heads. A faint, mysterious light poured down above us from her fingertips.

“You must obtain the Penguindrum!”

This was the same voice that we heard in the morgue. It was Himari’s voice, but somehow different. It had a forceful power, one that seemed to spring from the pit of her stomach.

“Himari, what are you saying?” I raised my voice in confusion.

“We are not your little sister. We come from the place where your fates reside.”

Our sister, standing before us, said that she was not our sister. It was true that she was not her normal self, wearing that wild dress with those red eyes. But I could only see Himari as Himari.

“It’s the hat,” Kanba said with certainty. “That hat is controlling her!”

“But that’s just a stupid toy we bought at the aquarium!”

Himari silenced me with a loud, purposeful clack of her heel.

“Currently, your sister’s life has been granted a temporary reprieve by our power. However, nothing in this world comes without a price. We expect our payment for this boon!”

As she shouted this, another blast of wind blew in. Himari’s hair danced around her.

Kanba glared at her inscrutable, glittering face.

“What’s this about a payment?!” I started to say. “This is weird—whoa!”

As I spoke, there was a click, and a square-shaped hole opened up beneath my feet. I fell headlong into the darkness.

My consciousness grew hazy. The mysterious light and the grandiose rhythm that moved in time with this alien version of Himari drifted gradually farther away, and I lost consciousness.

 

Himari slowly approached Kanba, touching his chin with coquettish hands, lifting it ever so slightly.

Rather than reply to Shoma’s question, she tilted her face close to Kanba’s, so close that they nearly brushed cheeks, and whispered in his ear. Her voice was sultry, like the sweetest honey, just like the first words she spoke after a yawn when she was drowsy.

“Shall we initiate the Survival Tactic?”

She tore open the buttons of Kanba’s shirt with her free hand, touching his now bare chest. Then, she plunged her hand deeply into it, as though there was no skin or bone.

“Guh!”

Her hand moved within his chest, as though searching for something.

“A-aah!” Even as he gasped in pain, a faint crimson spread across his cheeks.

Then, slowly, she extracted something that shone with a brilliant light from his chest, and held it up to the heavens. It spun, shining with a blinding light, and rose up into the sky, eventually disappearing into the far reaches of the alternate space.

 

Though it was now the middle of the night and the rain stopped, the disquieted atmosphere had not dissipated in the slightest. The intermittent sound of dripping water from the kitchen sink, which usually did not bother them at all, was strangely irritating. Shoma, already a light sleeper, seemed especially fitful.

Kanba sat up carefully, so as not to wake his brother, breathed in deeply, and walked to the kitchen to turn the faucet off more firmly. Then, after some hesitation, he decided to go and check in on his little sister.

Beside the living room, where Shoma and Kanba spread their futons out to sleep, was Himari’s room. In the center of the room, totally at odds with the rest of the Takakura house, was a small bed with a luxurious red canopy. Both the canopy and the pillows piled up on the bed had been handmade by Himari, and the bed itself was surrounded by mountains of all her favorite things.

An angel blowing a trumpet, a candelabra, and a lamp shaped like a mushroom all glowed with faint light, and atop a vintage sewing table sat an old-fashioned sewing machine, fabric scraps, ribbons, lace, and bobbins. Embroidery thread and beads and buttons of every imaginable color and size were scattered around the room. Beside the closet were piles of books, above which were placed a number of Himari’s so-called “cute things.”

Beside a wooden rocking chair, which had been picked up from somewhere or other so that Himari could relax while crafting in her room, was a basket filled with yarn and knitting needles, along with a bunch of half-finished projects, doilies, and runners that could be draped over or used to decorate various things in the Takakura household.

In the middle of her bed, surrounded by curtains in her beloved peach pink that draped around her protectively, Himari herself lay like a princess beside one of the penguins, her eyes firmly shut.

Her long eyelashes. The buttons at the top of her nightgown were undone, her white skin bared.

The faint moonlight shone pale upon her slender throat.

Kanba stood at the side of her bed and brushed away the hairs that clung to her cheek with his fingertips.

Unwittingly bewitched by her face, he thought about the nature of humanity.

Why were people born? If humans drew breath only for the sake of being born, growing up, and slogging tediously through every single day until they grew old and died, then was this some grave sin? Or was this some cruel, humorless joke? If that was the case, wasn’t the beast who stayed faithful to their survival strategies, living only for the sake of living, not the most lucid, the most beautiful?

If something like God existed in this world, then there was one question which Kanba would have liked to ask: Does such a thing as fate truly exist in the world of man?

For example, if a human were to ignore fate, his instincts, and even his genetics, and fall in love with someone—if he would accept even the destruction of his own self for that person’s sake, could that person truly be called “human”?

“Or something like that,” he muttered with a self-deprecating smile. He fixed the collar of her nightgown, and then quickly pressed his lips to her cheek. As he pulled away from Himari, once again he gazed down at her, aching all the more. His face was terribly sad, without a hint of insincerity in his damp eyes.

Anyway, Kanba hated the word “fate.”

He stroked her hair once, unimaginably tender, then pressed his mouth to hers, her small lips parted in gentle sleeping breath. It was a kiss as reverent as that of a prince, awakening a slumbering princess.

Whether or not fate existed, Himari’s lips were startlingly soft and sweet, and tasted of a deep, deep darkness.