Chapter 03

Chapter 03

 

A LITTLE GIRL ate curry. Behind her sat her beloved kappa and otter plushies, and on either side of her sat her loving parents, watching over her.

“It is good?”

“Yeah! I love your curry, Mama!”

“I see. You really do love curry, don’t you Ringo?”

“Yeah, I love curry!”

“You’re such a good girl, Ringo!”

“That tickles! If you squeeze me like that, I can’t eat! Mama, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. I’m just so happy.”

“That’s weird.”

“Aw, no fair! Your Mama’s hogging you all to herself! Time for Papa to get a squeeze in, too!”

“Papa!”

“Ringo, you are our dearest, dearest treasure. Let’s stay together as a family like this forever!”

“Yeah! I love my Papa and my Mama! And curry!”

 

Even now, years later, the kappa plushie and the otter plushie were still by her side. No matter how old and dusty they got, no matter how frayed in places, their slightly vacant, gentle faces never changed, as constant as her love for them. She probably would never bring herself to throw them away. As if cursed, they were bound to one another, so close that they could be called family.

 

***

 

That morning, on the table in her empty living room, Ringo faced down her toast with a serious look on her face. She squeezed a bottle of chocolate syrup, carefully drawing a heart atop the toast. Inside this heart were two names: “Keiju,” and “Ringo.”

“There we go, all done. Time to eat!” Just as she lifted the toast and began to take a bite, her mother, clad in a suit, finally rushed into the living room.

“Oh goodness, it’s so late already!” She looked at the clock on the wall, then back to Ringo. “I’ve got an important meeting today, so you can go ahead and eat without me tonight.”

“Mama, today is the twentieth,” Ringo said, casually folding the toast in half to hide the syrup letters.

“Yes, I know. Sorry, I’ll have some curry while I’m out, so could you go eat out with your friends?” She readjusted her wristwatch and drank her milk coffee from a mug set on the table in one big swig. “See you later.”

As her mother held up a hand, heading out, Ringo called to her, “Mama!”

“What is it now?” She turned around frantically. One large curler hung down from her bangs.

“You’ve still got a curler in,” Ringo pointed out coolly.

Her mother held a hand up to her bangs, and gasped, “Oh my goodness!” She removed it and placed it down on the table, then headed back out while unraveling her coiled bangs.

Ringo let out a sigh. When she opened the toast again, the sweet-smelling heart was all a mess, the letters smudged beyond recognition.

The twentieth of every month was to be “Curry Day.” This was a rule of the Oginome household. Furthermore, today was a special day. Today, for the first time, he would be eating Ringo’s homemade curry.

Ringo had already perfected a special, love-filled curry. The carrots, which he hated, would be grated, and it was chock full of potatoes, which he loved. And it contained a secret ingredient: apple jam.

She slathered some apple jam atop the chocolate syrup.

Her dish might not look very appealing, but that didn’t matter. He would adore a homemade curry. He and Ringo were bound by fate, after all.

She smiled in satisfaction, licking the syrup and jam from her fingertips.

Eating curry with someone you adored was the taste of happiness.

 

“Survival Tactiiic!!!”

A gust of white lace blew along with the shout.

I realized now that the sweet fragrance seemed to be emanating from the curiously sprawling lace. The air that filled this alternate space didn’t quite smell like vanilla, or rose, or soap, or sunlight, or fresh grass, but it held us enrapt.

Today, the queen of our household, accompanied by the three penguins, once more wore the penguin hat atop her head. She had her feet planted haughtily atop the heads of Penguins No. 1 and No. 2.

Kanba and I stood, both looking back at Himari.

“Surely, you worthless nothings have been told! You must obtain the Penguindrum!”

I hesitated in the light of her cold and powerful red gaze. Then I took a breath and spoke.

“Himari. Quit messing with us with these elaborate illusions already!”

“Huh?” Kanba looked at me, a bit of surprise on his face.

“Oh?” Himari’s eyebrows raised, and her bright red eyes opened wide.

“I mean, look, we already took your word on this Survival Tactic and Penguindrum thing once. It was right after that whole ordeal, after all. But, let’s end this already,” I said resolutely, looking up at Himari. “I know it was hard being hospitalized for so long, and I understand how good it must feel to finally be released from that place. And I’d probably be lying if I said I understood what that’s like. But I’d like to try to understand.” I gave voice to the thoughts that churned in my head. “So let’s work together. This isn’t what you wanted to do once you were healthy and out of the hospital, was it?”

Himari looked at me, contempt in her eyes, playing with Penguin No. 3 as if it was a ball.

“Are you saying that you cretins still do not believe in our existence?”

“I…” Kanba averted his eyes from me.

“Aniki?” There was no way that he could have bought into this.

“Hmph. Are you still possessed of the base obstinance and suspicion so typical of you lower life-forms?” She cast a look to the penguins, grinning wickedly. “In that case, we haven’t any choice. Shall we treat you cretins once more to that
nightmare?”

Her eyes glowed as she looked at us.

“Wait! Before that, the Penguindrum!” Kanba quickly protested. “Please tell us more about the Penguindrum!”

“Aniki…”

So, he did believe in it. He truly believed that Himari was possessed by the penguin-shaped hat. And that the being that resided in that hat held Himari’s life in its hands.

Unlike me, Kanba appeared desperate, fully convinced.

“It seems that you truly understand your place,” said Himari, looking at Kanba, her lips twisted.

“Aniki, do you really believe this? Do you know something I don’t?”

I got an uneasy feeling as I looked at Kanba, who seemed at a loss for words.

“Er, wait. I know how this goes.” I looked down at the floor. Surely enough, a square shape snapped open and the floor receded. “No! Why?! Why are you only being mean to meeee?!”

As I fell, spiraling, into the darkness, I pictured my brother’s anguished face in my mind. Was he able to comprehend, even accept these bizarre circumstances? To think that a single hat held control over our family’s fate. The world went black before my eyes, literally.

“Shall we initiate the Survival Tactic?!”

All that was left was the booming voice of the Himari that was not Himari, ringing in my head. It was just like the dream I had of riding the subway. Where would this carry me to? And where would we be able to get off of this ride?

 

Later that day, we stood nervously before the automatic doors of the condo Oginome Ringo lived in, with their complicated art deco-style design. I wanted to bombard my brother with all the obvious questions floating through my head—were we really going to do this? Should we be doing this?—but when I saw the sullen, serious look on his face, I knew there was no way out of it.

We were going to break into Oginome Ringo’s home.

We strode into the building’s interior, attempting to look as casual as possible. As I tried not to act overly aware of the security cameras in the corners of the ceiling, I suddenly became unsure of where I should be directing my gaze. Furthermore, even though I knew no one else could see them, I could not fathom breaking into someone’s home with two penguins in tow.

Unlike the automatic doors, the interior of the building had a simple design, and we quickly found the residence number indicated on the dossier that Kanba brought with him.

Earlier, we waited at East Kouenji station and watched as Oginome Ringo boarded the train. Her hair hung neatly around her chin. Her eyes peeked out from beneath thick bangs. This girl, dressed in the tidy uniform of Oukagyoen Girls’ High School, looked nothing like someone who would crawl through an airduct underneath Tabuki’s apartment and eavesdrop on him. Then again, the pair of us surely looked nothing like people who would break into the home of a high school girl we did not know.

Kanba pressed the button of the intercom with a surprising lack of hesitation. We waited, but there was no reply. Things might have been at least momentarily simpler for me if anyone, like the girl’s mother, was at home, but I knew we could only postpone this for so long.

“Alright, looks like they’re out.”

Kanba took a pair of gloves out of his uniform jacket pocket and donned them, then pulled out a ring of what looked like metal earpicks.

“Uh, Aniki, those are…” I looked nervously up and down the hallway. Someone might emerge from the next apartment, or the next, or a different one and come this way at any moment. There might be hidden cameras in this passageway.

He slid some of the picks into the keyhole and began rattling them around.

“Unfortunately, for now, we need to do as that hat says. No matter how terrible it is, if it’s for the sake of saving Himari’s life, we have no choice but to accept it. The question is just how far we’re prepared to go.”

He switched to a different metal rod and tried again.

“Damn it, this really ain’t easy for a novice.”

Be prepared. That was one thing I did not need to be told. It should have been simple. I did not wish to do anything bad. But I couldn’t bear the thought of Himari dying. Thus, I was troubled, at my wit’s end.

There was a ka-chk in response. Kanba pulled, and the door quietly opened.

“It’s for Himari,” he said, pulling a second pair of gloves from his pocket and handing them to me.

I felt as if I was watching my own hands from a great distance as I accepted the gloves. My hands moved slowly, hesitantly. Gripping them was an act of final resolve that there would be no turning back.

“It’s for Himari,” I agreed.

I put on the gloves. When I looked at the penguins, they were staring idly, and I had no idea what they were thinking.

 

The Oginome home was a tidy little place, in line with the building’s modern appearance.

The door to the living room was open as we entered from the spacious entryway and proceeded down the hall, so we quickly got a sense of its size.

“Whoa, this place is huge! Wonder how many tatami this is. This kitchen is super nice.” The sink in the kitchen island was wide, much nicer than the narrow one we had at home, where Himari and I bumped elbows whenever we worked side by side. My eyes sparkled at the beautiful appliances, thinking how easy they looked to clean. Beside me, No. 1 and No. 2 were running around excitedly.

“C’mon, this ain’t a home show on TV, let’s get this over with,” Kanba sighed deeply, sweeping his gaze across the room, obviously wondering where to start searching.

“This really does feel like burglary,” I whispered.

There were two other doors, aside from the bathroom, before we reached the living room. That room seemed to continue on to another as well.

“If the Penguindrum is here, then I guess it will be.”

“That’s true.”

We had come to take the Penguindrum from Oginome Ringo. No matter how you put it, we were stealing, weren’t we? I set aside my desire to run away from this place. This was all a matter of resolve.

My eyes suddenly fell upon a calendar, where a red circle marked one particular date. It was today. Written in the same red ink were the words “Curry Day.” Just what exactly did that mean?

“Yo, here’s her room.”

Kanba stood before a door.

“This is bad.”

A plate in the shape of an apple hung on the door, decorated with small embellishments, and the words: “Ringo’s Room.”

“If the Penguindrum is something that belongs to that chick, then it’s most likely to be in here.” Kanba reached right out for the doorknob. Almost reflexively, I held his hand back.

“But it’s cruel to intrude on a girl’s room, isn’t it?” It was an odd thing to say, but I couldn’t help thinking of our sister. Just how would Himari react if two strange boys let themselves into her room?

“Cruel? Oi, Shoma. This chick’s stalking our homeroom teacher.”

It was true. There had been something strange about her that night.

“I mean, she’s tunneling under Tabuki’s floor and eavesdropping on him. She’s a total pervert, just some stalker chick with her head screwed on the wrong way. She can screw off for all I care!”

“But…” But those were totally separate issues. The fact that she stalked Tabuki wasn’t justification for us to be snooping through her room. But what about Himari? I resolved to do anything to save her.

I was truly between a rock and a hard place—caught between the weight of my conscience and the pressure of my resolve.

“If you can’t do it, I will.” Kanba ignored my hand and opened the door.

I reflexively averted my eyes. For a moment, I was overwhelmed by a wave of guilt. Was I not trying to maintain my integrity as a good person? Was I not trying to preserve, for myself at least, the love of a God that I was uncertain even existed? In doing so, had I just placed more of a burden on my brother, renewing my resolve again and again like some spell, complaining even though I expected this the moment I entered Oginome Ringo’s home in search of the Penguindrum?

Who was I trying to save? And what did I hope to accomplish?

In a short time, I had fallen completely to pieces, but Kanba smiled warmly at me. He furrowed his brow, as if to say we had no other choice, and patted me gently on the head. “Well, that’s okay. Hold onto that kind heart of yours, for Himari’s sake. Yeah?”

Before I could tell him to wait, he urged Penguin No. 1 along and entered the room.

“Aniki…”

As I forced my body forward, the door shut in my face. I stood there, lost, unable to give any reply.

 

The courtyard of Oukagyoen Girl’s High School was gorgeous, with well-tended quads decorated with white benches. It was a bright and lively place whenever the students were assembled.

The moment Oginome Ringo entered the courtyard, she saw a shrub trimmed into a neat, round sphere. It reminded Ringo of the ring of fate.

“Hey, hey, want an update on that hot guy we saw the other day?”

Yukina, who was the tallest among the three assembled on the bench, with full, mature lips, opened her mouth. The three girls each spread their bento out on their laps, and the school’s midday break, lengthy enough to both let a lunch digest and allow the girls sufficient time to talk, began.

“Huh, what?! Tell us, tell us!” Mari—who had the same kind of cuteness as a small animal—leaned forward.

Ringo, once again, was elsewhere. Once she finished gazing at the circular shrub, her head filled with her plans for the day, which had warmed her heart since this morning. She did not even register the flavors of the sandwich she nibbled on.

“This is just between us,” said Yukina, putting her hand to her mouth in an exaggerated gesture.

“Definitely! This stays here!” Mari grinned conspiratorially.

“I heard from a friend from cram school that that guy used to date Kuho Asami!” said Yukina, in a ‘How do you like that!’ tone.

“Kuho Asami?” Mari asked, tilting her head.

Ringo vaguely remembered the name, but she did not say so. For a moment, the image of Kuho Asami briefly interrupted the flow of her thoughts, but the shape of it soon vanished back into memory as more important matters returned to the forefront of her mind.

“No way, you don’t know her? She was in Sixteen magazine!”

“You mean that model? What? That’s ridiculous!” She placed extra emphasis on the last word.

Wow, neat, Ringo replied internally on cue without batting an eye, her thoughts still adrift.

“Yeah, but here’s where it gets good! That guy flat out dumped her! ‘Girls who’re nothing more than their appearances bore me,’ he said!”

“Whoa, that’s kind of cool!”

Right? Isn’t that cool? The pair nodded fervently at each other.

Ringo began muttering the words flowing through her head, counting on her fingers.

“Potatoes, carrots, celery, and pork. Kuho, no, apple jam.” And then, she thought, lifting her head. White clouds in a white sky. As she thought of his gentle smile, a faint grin crept to her face without her notice.

 

This was by no means the first time that Kanba had been inside a woman’s room. He had slept in the bed of such a room’s owner, and he had taken her clothing in his hands, and had his taken in hers. He had sometimes shared kisses immediately after entering such a room, while other times it had abruptly turned to that after thirty seconds of light conversation.

Every woman’s room smelled different. However, they were always sickly sweet, and spending too long surrounded by a woman’s favorite things always started to give him a headache.

Oginome Ringo’s room overflowed with assorted decorations and objects, all of them following a sea creature theme. Kelp and tropical fish hung amongst the glass beads of the curious, octopus-themed chandelier, and on the floor was a large pillow in the shape of a crab. Atop the bed sat old kappa and otter plushies, looking for all the world as if they owned the place. The suspended beaded curtain was primarily blue and translucent, with starfish mixed in here and there. Her jewelry holder, which seemed to have been crafted of coral wholesale, was hung with large-beaded accessories with the same sort of translucency as the curtain, and there was a cannister full of shells.

“She sure is thorough,” Kanba muttered. He thought vaguely to himself that a girl who lived in a room of such single-minded taste must have a real one-track mind and it was not at all surprising that she would be a stalker.

He took a deep breath and pulled open her desk drawer, gesturing to Penguin No. 1 to start searching it while he investigated the closet. He did not find anything unusual. All of her clothes and underwear and socks and handkerchiefs looked incredibly normal. If he were to force an assessment, he might say that she had a bit of an excess of clothing with cutesy patterns along the hem. Still, that was all.

“Hey, you.” Kanba turned around to see how the desk was coming along, and then immediately had regrets. “What the hell kind of investigating is that?”

The contents of the desk were poking out slightly from every drawer, and Penguin No. 1 itself pulled out the textbooks stacked atop the desk, attempting to open them.

Scratching his head, Kanba carefully shut the closet, and picked up a notebook that had fallen on the floor.

“Hm?”

Atop the windowsill was something that did not match the aesthetic of the rest of the room. It had nothing to do with the sea or sea creatures; it was not even blue. It was in the shape of a peach. It was a perfectly pink peach, like a peach manju, the sort of peach that would appear in a picture book adaptation of Momotaro.

Curious, he moved to the windowsill, picking up—was it an alarm clock?—but there was nothing strange about it. He put it back on the windowsill, assuming it had been a gift from a parent or some other relative, someone who would be offended if the girl didn’t make use of it.

Kanba rolled his neck. His head hurt. He really did have a headache coming on.

Shoma was right. Shoma was always conscientious and bright. But always doing the right thing was not necessarily going to guarantee someone’s happiness. But there was still a solitary softness in Kanba that would not allow him to blame Shoma for this, deep down. If Kanba were to lose this final softness, the balance of his humanity would probably be destroyed.

His headache worsened. He wondered what look was on Shoma’s face right now, standing on the other side of that door. After checking that everything had been put back in its original place, all of the drawers and cabinets shut up tight, he grabbed Penguin No. 1 by the top of its head and once more put his hand on the doorknob.

 

The guilt and nerves of breaking into a stranger’s home, of opening and shutting and rummaging through all of their things, had taken its toll on me, and I collapsed sloppily across the corner sofa in front of the large TV set. At first, I thought this to be a very clean house, but on further inspection, I started to get a different impression.

Oginome Ringo’s home felt too sterile. Perhaps she had a tidy mother who loved cleanliness. But the overly straightened room was cold, with none of the personal touches to suggest that people actually lived there. Though, I was uncertain if this was a good or a bad thing.

“Hey, Aniki,” I called from the sofa, hanging my head.

“What?” he asked suspiciously, scrutinizing whether the potted ornamental plant he investigated had been placed correctly back into its previous location.

“Just what the heck is the Penguindrum?”

“Who knows.” He stared at me, the furrow of his brow deepening.

“We keep searching around aimlessly, but we have no idea what color, what shape the thing is. Even today, we haven’t found a single unusual thing.”

Kanba ignored my questions and opened the drawer on the TV stand, pawing through the DVDs and other detritus inside. “If you’ve got time to gripe about this you could at least help a little. It’s too early to say that there’s nothing to find in here.”

A movie that I thought I might have once seen started playing in fast-forward on the TV screen.

“That’s true, but, even if you did find the Penguindrum, you wouldn’t even know if it was the Penguindrum, would you? What I’m saying is, what are we even looking for?”

“Well, the Penguindrum, obviously. Stop complaining and make yourself useful. We still haven’t searched the whole kitchen. Get up already.”

I sat up, pressing him, interrupting his gloomy, exasperated words.

“Listen, I know we’re looking for the Penguindrum, but we have no idea what the Penguindrum is, so that means we have no idea what we’re searching for, right?”

“Yeah, I know. But the real issue here is that you don’t want to be doing this dirty job anymore, right? This one’s no good either, eh?” he said cynically, and stopped the DVD.

Just like I feared, I foisted the whole task of entering Oginome Ringo’s room and searching her stuff off onto my brother. But he was the one who let me off the hook. Furthermore, that wasn’t what I was saying. It wasn’t remotely the same thing.

“If you hate this so much then you don’t have to help anymore. I’ll look for the Penguindrum on my own, and I’ll save Himari on my own. Just me,” he emphasized, taking another DVD from its case.

“What are you saying?” I asked. “We decided the moment we set through that door. We’re ready. We’re going to do this together, for Himari.”

Kanba shrugged.

I continued, “I know that! We still gotta try, right?! It’s not that I’m not willing to do this. It’s just, I have some questions.” Deciding that I was finally on board with his plans, I stood from the sofa. Just then…

“I’m home!”

We looked at each other, and practically dove behind the sofa, curling ourselves up out of sight. Not giving us a moment to think, Oginome Ringo entered the living room. We held our breaths, bodies numb. There was nothing more we could do. This was no longer just a simple trespass.

 

With a little tune, Ringo sung and danced down the hallway into the living room.

“Hooray, it’s Curry Day!”

She put her bulging grocery bag of curry ingredients into the kitchen and went straight to her bedroom to change from her uniform into her normal clothes. Her eyes fell upon the clock on her windowsill. If she started now, she was certain she would have a hot curry ready just in time for dinner.

She went back to the kitchen, clad in a blue apron that fit with the rest of her favored color scheme. She washed her hands neatly, heart already bursting with the anticipated happiness that she knew was just a few hours away.

“Wonderful, tasty Curry Day! The taste of happiness, Curry Day!” she sang.

She took the ingredients from the bag and lined them up on the counter to the beat of her song. Carrots, potatoes, onions, pork, apple jam, and big round apples. A new type of curry roux, cumin, cinnamon, and ginger.

Once the pot and ladle and cooking chopsticks were all perfectly prepared, she set vigorously to work.

As she worked, Ringo’s thoughts wandered frivolously, wondering if curry might have been the first dish ever cooked in human history. Naturally, it would not have been a curry like the one she made now, but some curry-like dish. Surely, it had been a young woman who made this dish, making all of her cooking implements from scratch, using fruits and leaves from trees in the forest as her seasonings, exhaustively fanning the flames, drawing the water and pouring her heart into it, all for the sake of feeding someone she loved, so that they would smile and tell her how wonderful it was. Curry truly was the taste of joy.

She packed some grated apples in with the pork, so that it would not get tough once stewed. This was the secret technique of the Oginome family.

She toasted the spices well, then cut the carrots up finely, the potatoes into large chunks. She wondered briefly if she ought to prepare the roux as written on the box, or if she should alter the amount slightly, but given that it was her first time making this kind, she decided to follow the instructions.

The apple jam was the very last thing to go in. Just a little spoonful, the secret ingredient.

Ringo loved the sound of the ingredients stewing in the pan. It was as if the ingredients were whispering to each other, bursting with innocent mutual encouragement, Let’s be delicious, let’s make whoever eats us happy. In the lulls of the warm lullaby, gentle white steam rose like the sweet tones of a mother speaking to her babe. Curry had to be eaten with someone special, someone you hoped to spend the rest of your days with. These were the rules of Curry Day.

Stirring the pot, Ringo peered quietly inside.

 

***

 

Her mother, wearing a black apron and dishing out curry. This was a recollection from March 20th, five years prior.

At the table were little Ringo and Tabuki Keiju, who, though he looked quite grown up, was still a boy at the time. Ringo, age eleven, donned her black velvet dress, just as her mother told her to. Looking back now, she didn’t think it was a material suited to mourning clothes, but that was the only black garment Ringo owned at the time.

“No need to hold back, you can eat as much as you like,” her mother said with a smile.

“Of course, thank you very much,” Tabuki replied in a soft voice, though his posture did not at all relax.

“So, you’re in university now then, Keiju-kun. My how the time flies. Is your mother still doing well?”

“She is, thank you.” As the refined, well-mannered Tabuki finished speaking, he politely brought a bite of curry to his mouth.

“Your curry is always so delicious.”

The smile on his face was a kind that Ringo had never seen before now. It seemed to have a ludicrous sparkle. Seeing him in his black suit, which his wry smile suggested he was unaccustomed to wearing, Ringo thought him a mature, handsome young man.

“Why, thank you. To be honest, we have a secret family recipe. Isn’t that right, Ringo?”

Ringo continued watching Tabuki, her mouth slightly agape, barely hearing her mother’s words. She was caught up in trying to determine just what feeling had overtaken her, but she hadn’t the faintest idea.

Even now, she still remembered that it had taken Tabuki looking her way to finally reclaim her senses. He was superb. Thus, curry was something to be eaten with the one you cherished.

 

***

 

The smell of well-stewed curry wafted from the kitchen into the living room.

“All done!” she said proudly, shutting off the flame, scooping a little bit up in the ladle to taste it.

“Mm, perfect.”

She ducked into her room to retrieve her diary from her bed, and then flopped heavily down on the sofa, stifling a laugh.

“Step one is complete. No need for me to worry. Everything is proceeding according to fate,” she said to herself, flipping through the diary. She could not hold back the smile that bubbled up naturally from her heart.

Up next was the main event of Curry Day.

 

Oginome Ringo wrapped the whole pot of curry up in a furoshiki, then packed all her things into a small tote bag, which she slung over her shoulder. Our empty bellies rumbled at the smell, and my stomach let out a loud growl at least once while she stood in the kitchen. “Control your guts, would ya?” Kanba absurdly demanded, his face frightful.

The penguins kept peeking into the kitchen and drooling, but I had to wonder if they could even eat curry.

We managed to follow her back to the train without being spotted. We boarded at East Kouenji in pursuit, and then disembarked at Ogikubo.

Oginome Ringo cradled the pot carefully in her arms as she passed through the shopping district.

“What a weirdo,” said Kanba, almost entirely to himself.

“That aside, where does she intend to take the curry she made?” We were beginning to grow accustomed to following Oginome Ringo from a fixed distance. She seemed to spend most of her time lost inside her head, or focused on whatever task she was currently set on.

She had spent the entire time on the train looping back and forth between grinning and hanging her head and tensing up her face. She seemed to be in a happy mood. Even now, watching her from behind, we could tell that she was in high spirits.

“It might not be just any old curry,” Kanba muttered, a seriously twisted smile on his face. “Maybe there’s some secret code in the combination of the spices. We can’t rule out the possibility that maybe that curry itself is the Penguindrum.”

“I guess not,” I said doubtfully. No matter how you looked at it, it really was just a normal curry, in a normal pot.

Oginome Ringo walked steadily on, proceeding into a familiar residential district.

“Hey, Aniki. Isn’t this the same road as yesterday?”

“Yeah. That chick’s headin’ to Tabuki’s place.”

Would that really be making her behave so erratically? That energetically? Did she intend for Tabuki to eat that curry?

I then recalled the words I had seen marked on the calendar: Curry Day. Was it really a day so joyful it was worth singing about? Was eating curry with Tabuki what she meant by Curry Day?

 

Tabuki sat across the table from Ringo.

“Um, so, today is Curry Day, and I was thinking we could eat this together,” said Ringo, opening the pot lid. A gentle steam and the pleasant smell of spices wafted out. “Still, maybe I should have cut the carrots a little bit smaller, so if you like I’ll try to serve it so that you don’t get any! I don’t mind at all if you eat around all the carrots. In fact, I even think that’s cute!”

As Ringo spoke, she spooned the curry over glossy, shining, freshly made rice. Tabuki was moved by her care.

“Ah, I thought it would still be warm,” Ringo fretted, “but maybe I should’ve reheated it once. I can microwave it if you like.”

Tabuki halted Ringo with a smile as she spoke.

“Looks plenty warm to me,” he said. “Plus, you’ve gone to so much trouble. I want to eat it as it is.”

The messy length of Tabuki’s hair. His eyes, behind his glasses, took Ringo in deeply. She suddenly could not speak another word. And then, Tabuki smiled back.

It was simple, but it was a Curry Day for just the two of them, with a homey, practically candlelit warmth. Before the two plates of curry, the pair said their graces.

“Mm, this is delicious. You’re a great cook, Ringo-chan. I’m sure you’ll make a wonderful wife someday,” Tabuki said, grinning again as he took another bite.

“No way, it’s just curry!” came the fervent reply.

Tabuki happily ate, and then ate some more. Seeing this gave Ringo courage, and she opened her mouth bashfully.

“Oh, that reminds me, I’ll make us some bento for the birdwatching trip!”

Tabuki’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise.

“Really? I can’t wait. Are you sure, though? You have cram school, won’t that be difficult?”

“No, not at all! I, well, I’ll do anything if it’s for you. I can make a little bento anytime you like.”

As Ringo spoke softly, eyes downturned and her face growing red, a wide palm reached out to her, gently stroking her hair. Ringo’s gaze drifted further and further downward in shyness.

“Tabuki-san,” she called to him, in a voice both joyful and troubled.

“Ringo-chan,” he said sweetly.

For the first time, Ringo truly understood what it meant to feel as though your heart was ready to leap right out of your throat.

 

***

 

Ogikubo, in the dim evening light. Ringo returned to her senses before the door of Tabuki’s home, still shivering from the powerful reverie she’d been caught in. If things went as she imagined, then the plan might end up proceeding even further along than expected.

Shoving all her expectations and fantasies down into the heavy, curry-filled pot, Ringo cleared her mind, and knocked twice on the old-fashioned apartment door.

“Welcome home, Tabuki-kun.”

A beautiful woman opened the door, her wavy, mid-length, brightly colored hair arranged in a casual style, her smile like a freshly-bloomed flower. Loose hairs hung around her cheeks.

Ringo stood stock still, staring at the woman suspiciously, unable to move a single muscle.

“Oh?” said the woman with a smile, and then, “Come in,” inviting Ringo in as though this were her own home.

The woman wore a soft-looking knit dress with a thin, gentle silhouette, and matching black leggings. She led Ringo to the living room, her seemingly well-worn slippers pattering across the floor, and took some barley tea from the small refrigerator in the adjacent kitchen, pouring it into a cup.

This sucks, Ringo muttered to herself, but the words reached no further than the walls of her own heart.

“Here you go. Not too cold out yet, is it?”

The woman placed the cup in front of Ringo, then sat across from her, placing both elbows on the table and resting her chin. Her fingers were long, pale, and slender. Her nails were trimmed in an oval shape and painted neatly in a pale pink, each nail decorated with a thin strip and a single rhinestone. On the pinky finger of her left hand sparkled a delicate gold ring.

Ringo sat up straight, not reaching for the tea.

“Are you one of Tabuki-kun’s students from school? My apologies. He isn’t home yet.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed gently. Her eyelashes were long and delicately arranged, and her eyelids, painted with a pale beige eyeshadow, shone. Her lips were glossy and coral-colored.

She spoke nothing further. She did not ask who Ringo was, nor show any unpleasant expression. Ringo internally bit her lip and stamped her feet in frustration.

“Who are you?” Ringo asked, fully aware that she was asking something absurd. Presently, no matter how you looked at it, Ringo was the interloper here. “Who might you be?”

“Me? I’m Yuri. Pleased to meet you.” There was a composure to her gently smiling face.

Ringo squeezed the cloth-wrapped pot of curry tighter. She averted her eyes, unable to look at this woman named Yuri, and saw in the kitchen a pot of the same type that she had brought atop the stove.

Yuri followed her gaze. “Ah, I was making tonight’s dinner. It’s just a curry, but if you like, why don’t you stay and eat with us?”

“Curry.” Ringo was at a loss for words.

“Yes. ‘Today is Curry Day,’ he told me. What a weirdo, he’s such a little kid sometimes,” Yuri said with a smile, affection clear in her tone.

Ringo thought fiercely that there was no way that this woman could understand. There was no way this cheap floozy—with her blatant, sweet smell, glittering every which way—could understand Curry Day. The strings of fate that joined Ringo and Tabuki could not be so easily severed.

However, that did not change the fact that there was quite the unanticipated problem here. Someone else had already cooked curry. This was quite a wrench in her plans. Her eyes fell to the curry cradled in her arms.

The curry that Tabuki ate tonight would be the one that Ringo made. She would not permit it to be the one made by this witch of a woman before her.

There was a knock on the door.

“Oh! Now that must be Tabuki-kun.”

Yuri stood with a smile as sweet as honey.

“Welcome home. There’s an acquaintance of yours here right now,” she told him quietly, putting on airs.

“Huh? Who could that be?”

Ringo could never have imagined the voice of her beloved sounding so distant. It had come from just a few feet away, but it was as if a wall had been erected between them.

“A very cute girl. You’re quite the smooth operator, Tabuki-kun.”

“No way, I would never.”

His bashful voice reached her ears. From the other side of the wall, she could hear their muffled conversation.

“Oh, here’s the yogurt you wanted. Hope this brand’s alright.”

There was the rustling of a bag.

“Thank you.”

This was her only chance. It was unforgiveable, but this sole moment, while Tabuki and Yuri were enrapt in yogurt and conversation in the narrow entryway of Tabuki’s apartment, was her only opportunity.

Practically crawling, she slipped as quick as she could into the darkened kitchen, and easily arrived at the stove. She would have to stand in order to lift the pot, and Tabuki aside, the woman was already so near that there was no way that she wouldn’t be spotted. But there was no other way. Ringo stood, seized the pot, and crouched right back down, returning to the living room. She swiftly unwrapped the furoshiki from her curry and placed the pot atop the counter. Then, she picked up the pot with Yuri’s curry, and, still in her socks, walked to the window, opened it, and jumped out.

She sprinted through the Ogikubo evening streets.

At least, thought Ringo, things were proceeding according to fate. Her curry would be the one to pass Tabuki’s lips tonight. The pots were very similar, so surely, they wouldn’t notice. That woman was nothing in light of the bonds of fate they shared.

She ran through the still bright shopping district, toward the train station.

“Yes, this is all perfect, all according to plan. Nothing’s gone wrong,” she muttered, assuring herself.

Suddenly, she was halted by a cat crossing her path. The cat carried a fish in its mouth, just like in a manga, and wore an aloof look upon its face. It threw a glance at Ringo, and then walked calmly on.

“You little thief!” she screamed, unthinking, conflating the cat with the image of Yuri in her mind, sending the cat running, scurrying around the corner.

She had done well. Her project was still underway. She would not be crushed by a setback as simple as this.

She steeled the muscles in her cheeks so as not to let any emotions show on her face, and once more took off running.

 

Eating meals when you’re home alone had to be done according to schedule. The meals did not have to be especially fancy, or particularly delicious. As long as she ate properly at lunch time, if she filled her empty stomach and satisfied her minimal nutrition needs, that was sufficient as far as Himari was concerned.

Someone else was there with her, though, and at least at first the meal had simply appeared before her. But with no other witnesses there, such details as whether she had been the one to eat the omurice grew hazy and faded away.

Himari flipped through a fashion magazine, stroking Penguin No. 3, who was always by her side.

“We asked musumeyaku actress Tokikago Yuri, of the East Ikebukuro Sunshiny Opera Company: What is ‘elegance’ for the modern-day maiden?” she read aloud, then muttered, “This actress is so pretty.” The words weren’t meant for anyone’s ears, and she meant nothing more than precisely what she had spoken.

“I’m bored… I wish they’d come home already,” she said to No. 3. Today, a number of hairpins in various motifs were affixed to No. 3’s head. On its back was the numeral “3,” which Kanba had written.

She breathed in the smell of the aged tatami in the parlor.

“Y’know, I’d like to grow some little tomatoes or something outside. I wanna grow strawberries. I wanna eat strawberries.” She set down the magazine and lay back, arms and legs spread out wide, and grinned. “Do you think that tomatoes and strawberries grow vines?”

It was a meaningless question. Himari just thought that plants that grew trailing vines were wonderful. Thinking of them encircling a building, like a castle in a fairy tale or a haunted mansion, made her very excited.

Mimicking Himari, No. 3 rolled around the tatami.

“Oh, it’s Asami-chan,” Himari muttered, turning the page.

What’s inside a popular model’s bag? read the spread. Himari read the page with deep interest. Seeing what other people carried was always interesting. This model is really into the color red, while that model isn’t that fond of brand names. Some walked around with tons of makeup brushes, while the studious types carried around electronic dictionaries or a library’s worth of novels.

“This bag has gotten the most miles with Asami in recent days!” Himari read aloud. “She adores its vivid colors, and that it has plenty of pockets to hold things. Besides her lipstick, she stores a compact, eyelash curler, mascara, and blush in a pouch. Her signature sunglasses are a superior brand, and effective for those with smaller faces.”

For many years now, in Himari’s bag there had been a wallet, lip balm, a handkerchief, and the keys to their home. She often brought her knitting supplies with her as well on trips to the hospital and such, in order to pass the time. But the contents of her bag didn’t show much of what her life was like.

She set down the magazine and headed to her room, lifting her basket of knitting supplies up onto her bed. She plopped down No. 3 onto the bed before climbing up as well.

She first started knitting while she was in the hospital. One year, around Christmas, one of the hospital tutors taught it to any of the children who wished to learn. The first thing that she knit had been a too-short, wonky scarf. Still, she’d been happy. Soon, winter would be here again. She decided to knit something epic this year—though she still was not entirely sure what.

“What do I do if my brothers turn delinquent? Lately they’ve been skipping school, getting angry, and not listening to me at all. Right, San-chan?” Himari had affectionately begun referring to Penguin No. 3 as ‘San-chan.’

No. 3 nodded, seeming to echo her exasperation. It sidled up to Himari, pressing its round body against hers.

“Wait a minute! If you’re with me, San-chan, then it doesn’t count as going out alone!” Himari smiled widely.

No. 3 forced its nonexistent neck into a cramped tilt.

Himari had been forbidden to leave the house by her brothers, who still worried for her physical health. She felt like Rapunzel, locked away atop a tower. Dr. Washizuka told her she could do whatever she liked, and honestly, she’d been feeling pretty fine. She was eating plenty, sleeping plenty, and finally, finding more time during the day than she knew what to do with, napping plenty. She spent her days knitting, stealthily elaborating on the embroidery on the curtains, reading books, doing household chores, and sometimes just staring dazedly into the sunlight.

She adored her room. It was filled with all the things she loved, and her bed was constructed comfortably. Himari herself selected or made the light pink canopy, the sheets, and the many pillows stacked upon it. But she’d crafted all of it in an effort to distract herself from the fact that her body itself was not free.

She was the sickly Princess Himari, passing the days in her own beloved castle.

“Let’s go shopping.” She stood, clearing her thoughts. No. 3 tried to stand up in turn, but its feet caught in the sheets, and it tumbled back onto the bed.

Today, as always, Himari’s little bag held her wallet and lip balm and handkerchief, along with the keys to her precious castle.

 

Himari and Penguin No. 3 headed to a nearby supermarket and bought ingredients for curry. She couldn’t think of any other recipes whose ingredients she could easily remember and assemble by memory.

“I wonder if making dinner for my brothers will make them happy.” She smiled at No. 3, who nodded back earnestly. “I’m gonna need to get better at cooking!” Her eyebrows pricked up, and she rolled up her sleeves, forcibly flexing her pale, thin arms. No. 3 bounced as if to say, “How splendid!”

Just then, a cat with a fish in its mouth ran out in front of them.

“Whoa!” It was so close Himari staggered back in surprise.

The cat slowly dropped the fish from its mouth. Seeing this, No. 3 ran up to the fish and snapped it down whole.

“C’mon, San-chan! You can’t eat things off the ground!”

Just as Himari scolded the penguin, the cat seemed to pick up on its strange presence. It stood up, let out a fearsome yowl, and flew claws-first at Penguin No. 3.

“Oh, Mr. Cat, stop that! Be nice!”

Himari ran flustered after the cat and Penguin No. 3, who had fused into a scuffling, yowling ball, and were presently rolling away. Apparently, the penguins were visible to any creature who wasn’t human.

Up ahead of the two animals was a T-junction in the road. Himari looked up, wondering what she would do if a car or something came running through, and saw a girl with a clean bob cut, clutching a pot and a furoshiki. It was Oginome Ringo.

“Watch out!”

It had been a long time since she had done any running. It felt good, but Himari was dreadful at it, and incredibly slow. By the time she screamed for the other girl to watch out, it was already too late.

The cat and the balled-up penguin collided with the girl, and she and the pot she carried went flying. Himari went slack-jawed in surprise, her eyes wide.

The pot tumbled through the air, and the curry inside splashed out across the pavement. The cat ran away, and No. 3 collapsed on the spot, not moving.

Himari finally caught up with No. 3. It stood abruptly up, and leapt up, clinging to Himari. She squeezed it tight, stroking its head.

“U-Um, I’m sorry,” said Himari. She had not been the one to cause the accident, but No. 3 had already become a dear friend to her. Naturally, she assumed responsibility for anything that No. 3 did. Plus, the girl was on the ground and dumbfounded, covered in curry from head to toe.

This was already a huge disaster.

“It’s fine.” The girl’s voice was low and hoarse.

“My name is Takakura Himari. My house is nearby, so you can come by and wash your clothes, if you like!”

Ringo looked up at Himari dazedly as she spoke. Her skin was pure white, and her hair long. What a delicate girl, she thought. She did nothing but running into strange women today. Beautiful ones, at that. As for Ringo, however, her socks were thoroughly dirty from running, and she was covered all over in the curry that woman had made. She was thoroughly miserable.

Unable to hold it back any longer, her face twisted, the tears welling up.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Himari quickly knelt, looking the girl in the face.

Hiccupping, Ringo shook her head, saying softly, “I’m fine.” Indeed, such a thing as this was not enough to alter fate. “I’m really okay, my butt is just a little sore. I’m Ringo. Oginome Ringo,” she replied tearfully. She let her guard down a bit; Himari’s voice was guileless and kind.

“You want to come to my house? You aren’t even wearing shoes.”

Penguin No. 3 pulled itself away from Himari’s arms and approached Ringo, stroking her head even though the other girl could not see it.

“Um, maybe,” said Ringo, quickly checking the contents of the tote bag she dropped nearby.

This girl’s eyes were strong-willed and beautiful, Himari thought. Her thick bangs only emphasized her eyes all the more. Moreover, she seemed very much like Cinderella, running without any shoes on like that.

“Um, sorry about your curry. We’re having curry tonight, too. So, well…”

Himari wanted Ringo to come back home with her. She wanted to talk with another girl.

“I’m actually not that good at cooking, though.”

For a short while, the pair both looked downward in silence.

“I could teach you? Curry’s my specialty,” said Ringo, as if dusting herself off.

“Really? Then you should definitely eat dinner at our house tonight!” Himari smiled like a blooming flower.

“Are you sure?” asked Ringo.

“Yeah, I mean, when you make curry you always end up with a lot, right? It’s only me and my two brothers at home. It’s bothersome to have leftovers.” No. 3 nodded in agreement—though of course, Ringo could not see this.

“In that case…” That’s not true, Ringo thought. There were only two people in her house, but they still made curry, and had no qualms about eating the leftovers the next day. Himari was being too fussy. “In that case, I guess I’ll take you up on that.”

Ringo’s home that day, as always, was sure to be spotless and deserted. More importantly, this might be fun. Visiting the home of a new friend, made by chance.

Himari held her hand out to Ringo, helping her up. The two smiled bashfully, picked up the pot, and headed towards the Takakura home, introducing themselves properly as they walked.

 

It was already fully dark when we made it home from Tabuki’s place, exhausted. When Oginome Ringo stopped by Tabuki’s place and encountered someone who looked to be his girlfriend, I was worried that she would do something terrible, but I was relieved to see the situation resolve without incident. And yet, our trials continued.

“Himari’s gonna be mad at us.”

The day that Tabuki contacted our home, Himari hounded us when we returned. Obviously, we could not tell her that we followed some girl around, so instead we lied that Yamashita had been bummed out after a girl rejected him, and so we had spent the day cheering him up. Once again, we had spent today doing something that we could not divulge.

“Probably.” Kanba tried to sound unaffected, but his lips were twitching, his eyes were lowered, and a rather dark expression was on his face. He was weak when it came to our sister.

“Ugh, we lost Oginome Ringo’s trail, and we didn’t get the Penguindrum.” And we’d have to apologize to Himari, who was probably angry or sad. I felt the urge to cross myself.

“I know that that chick went into Tabuki’s place, so how’d she slip out of there?” The perplexed look returned to my brother’s face.

“Aniki,” I said, holding out a loosely balled fist.

“Hm? Ah yeah,” he replied sincerely.

“Throw or else you’re gonna lose! Jan Ken Pon!” we chanted.

I didn’t want to think anymore that night. I was worn out, and starving, and feeling weak.

“We’re home!” Finally, I opened the door. I was always bad at janken.

“You’re late!”

Himari waited for us, arms crossed and feet planted out firmly. Penguin No. 3 stood beside her, mimicking her pose.

“Sorry, Himari!” I bowed my head and rounded my back, eyes shut and hands clasped as I supplicated myself, just like some salaryman who had gone out drinking after work and come home late.

“I won’t forgive you again today!” she said. After a moment, she added, “…Is what I wanted to say, but I’ll make a special exception. We have a guest today. Hey, Ringo-chan! My brothers are home!” she called inside.

I shot up in a reasonable shock. I wondered before what we would do if Oginome Ringo realized that we were following her. What if she started staking out our house? She was already stalking Tabuki, after all. She seemed a bit reckless, but maybe she was far more alert than we realized.

If Himari ended up telling her something, it would be all over.

Oginome Ringo appeared from within, a slightly nervous look upon her face.

Kanba finally entered from the entryway behind me, muttering a soft, “No way.”

“This is Oginome Ringo-chan. We just became friends today!” Himari smiled brightly, deeply pleased.

As far as I could tell, Oginome Ringo did not react particularly to seeing our faces. On the contrary, she gave a reserved nod, saying, “Sorry for the intrusion. I’m Oginome Ringo.”

For some reason, she was wearing my clothing.

We were both too shocked to respond for several seconds.

“I-I’m Himari’s older brother, Shoma. This is Kanba,” I managed, with some difficulty.

I hoped that I would finally get a break today, but at this rate, inevitably, the mission continued.

 

It was a strained, uncomfortable dinner. There was someone in our parlor who was not Uncle Ikebe, and the fact that it was Oginome Ringo made it difficult to breathe.

Presently, the girl in question was in the kitchen cooking with Himari, smiling and chatting.

“How the heck did this happen?” I asked Kanba in a low voice, widening my eyes.

“Don’t ask me,” he said, casually flipping down a picture frame atop the cupboard. It was a photo of our whole family.

I pretended that I hadn’t seen him do it.

“Sorry for the wait!” Himari entered the room with a grin upon her face, carrying a pot. “I bet you’re hungry. Today we’re having a specialty apple honey curry!”

There it was, the long-awaited curry. Himari must have been some kind of genius, to have such timing in choosing a curry for tonight’s menu. Both our stomachs growled on cue, and our faces went red.

Himari chuckled at us, and swiftly served up the curry with Oginome Ringo’s help.

“Oh, maybe I should’ve made a salad, too?” Himari said absently.

“This is plenty, Himari,” I warmly replied.

And so the Takakura Curry Evening began.

“Mm, the meat is so tender and tasty. You’re really good at cooking, Ringo-chan.” Himari seemed to be in high spirits.

“Not really, all I can make is curry. My mother taught me how, a long time ago,” Oginome Ringo replied solemnly.

“Hmm. It must be nice, having your mom teach you things,” Himari said with a smile, though her expression was clearly clouded.

“This curry really is good. Himari, how’d you know I’d been craving curry all day?” I asked, as brightly as I could muster.

“That’s because we’re family,” she said with a grin. “Right, Ringo-chan?” She tilted her head, her spirits renewed.

“Yeah.” Oginome Ringo’s voice was soft in reply. She gently placed her spoon down upon the table. “You live a happy life, Himari-chan.”

“Happy?”

“You get to eat curry with people you love. That’s what eating curry is all about.”

“Is that so?” Himari tilted her head further.

Oginome Ringo nodded once, a lonesome look upon her face.

“Ringo-chan… Y’know, Ringo-chan, I’m happy that I get to eat curry with you. You’re my special friend, after all,” Himari said bashfully.

I was moved at what a kind and gentle person our little sister was.

“It really has been a long time since we’ve had a guest over. Right, Sho-chan?” Her wide eyes peered straight at me.

“Ah, yeah, a really long time.”

“So, you’re always welcome. Any time you have to eat alone, just come over here, we’ll eat together!” said Himari, innocent as a little child.

“Yes, thank you,” Oginome Ringo replied, with a slightly bewildered smile.

Himari seemed thrilled. Having female friends probably was a necessity for a girl. I wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that this particular friend happened to be Oginome Ringo, but I supposed it was fine for now. Even Oginome Ringo probably didn’t do weird things all the time, and as long as she didn’t have a bad influence on Himari, this would probably be good for her.

“By the way, how did it go?” Kanba asked abruptly, having finished all his curry and now plucking off the grains of rice stuck to his mouth to eat.

I looked at him in shock. What was he doing? Oginome Ringo seemed to have no idea what we had been doing, and her finding out would be a problem. Plus, if we were discovered, Himari would lose a friend.

“You had some important errand today. You had a plan, didn’t you?”

For a moment, Oginome Ringo stared at my brother in silence.

My face twisted up nervously. Himari looked confused.

Was Kanba trying to feel her out? Even so, this was as good as asking her straight to her face, wasn’t it? He stepped out onto the stage.

Sometimes, I had no idea what Kanba was thinking, and not just when it came to dealing with girls. This was only natural, as we were not the same person, but sometimes he felt so different from me, it was like he was a completely different species. Not that this made it any easier to shrug off.

“It was fine,” Oginome Ringo replied straight away.

I was shocked. She answered him as though this was a completely normal question.

“Things went a little off course, but it’s fine for today. Everything is still going just as written.”

Just as written? What did she mean by that? I looked to Kanba, the interrogator, but he did not appear to have any idea, either.

Oginome Ringo nodded, self-assured, and continued, “Yes, that’s what’s most important. Bringing about the words engraved by fate is the reason I was born, and my most important mission. I am going to see this through.”

Oginome Ringo was fired up now, and Himari watched her, intrigued. To both Kanba and I, this girl—now fully confident, the opposite from before—was an even more inscrutable creature than the penguins. We looked to each other, finding that both of our mouths were hanging open dumbly.

 

Ringo swayed on the train, wearing her own clothes, now warm and dry, and a pair of too-big sneakers borrowed from Himari’s brother. As she dangled her feet, the shoes flopped around amusingly.

She slowly pulled her phone from her bag and drafted a text to her mother.

“Mama: I ate curry with a friend tonight. It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten curry with someone. But really, it’s family—” was as far as she got, before stopping, and erasing the word, “family.”

“But really, it’s at home that eating curry tastes best.”

She took out her diary and opened it carefully.

She stared at the line that read Tabuki-kun eats my homemade curry, and then muttered, “It’s destiny,” before generously reapplying her red-tinted lip balm. She hadn’t been able to let Tabuki see her lips tonight.

The train continued intently along its dark, lengthy road, toward the station where Ringo’s home was. Even this dark rail, seeming to stretch on for eternity, had to end somewhere. Perhaps that was its fate, decided sometime in the distant past. Or perhaps it was something that everyone had all unconsciously decided.

Yuri. Even that woman’s lips had been vibrant. They were soft-looking, and glittered in a pale and delicate way, in a way that tinted lip balm could not compete with. She smelled sweet.

Ringo let her head loll back onto the headrest and gently shut her eyes, while the darkness passed outside her window.