Another, Vol. 2 (15 page)

That was the note penciled on the back.

March 16. I guess that was the day of the graduation ceremony.

It was a faded five-by-seven color photo. If everyone in the class was in the photo, that meant they’d used a timer to take the picture.

All the students were gathered in the classroom in front of the blackboard. The people in the first row had their hands on their knees and were hunched forward slightly; those in the second row were standing up straight; and in the third row, they stood on the teacher’s platform. That was the overall arrangement. In the center of the second row was the head teacher. It was Mr. Chibiki, in his younger days. His arms were folded over his chest and his lips were pressed together tightly, the smile coming only from his eyes and cheeks.

I recognized my mother, Ritsuko, age fifteen, standing diagonally behind him. She was dressed in the same uniform as she had been in the yearbook photo I’d seen in the secondary library. She was smiling, but there was an almost imperceptible tension in her face.

“It’s…,” Mei whispered, her eyes on the photo she’d taken from my hands. “Can you tell, Sakakibara? Do you see which one is Misaki Yomiyama?”

“Yeah…about that.”

I peered down at the photo from one side.

“It’s got to be that guy, on the right side.”

There was a boy standing apart from everyone, on the very edge of the teacher’s platform. He was smiling like everyone else, but there was something sad about it. His shoulders were slumped and his hands hung limply at his sides. He didn’t look like he was “standing” there so much as—and maybe I was imagining this—“floating” there or “hovering”…

“…I mean, just looking at him, he seems kind of off, right?”

“You think?” Mei’s voice trembled and cracked. “He looks strange to you?”

“…Yeah.”

“How so?”

“I can’t really…”

Confused, I explained it exactly the way I’d felt it.

“How should I put it? Compared to the other parts of the picture, right there it’s like…I don’t know…like it’s out of focus or the air around him is warping slightly or something. That’s how.”

“Oh. What about the color?”

“What color?”

“You don’t see a weird color?”

“No, not really…”

The photo creeped me out more and more the longer I looked at it. If I explained what was happening to my dad, and then showed him this photo and told him, “This is a genuine paranormal photo,” I wonder how he’d take it. Most likely, he’d laugh it off and tell me, “Don’t be ridiculous.”…But still.

Ridiculous and unscientific as it may be, this was the real thing. That’s why we were both so…

“Thanks,” Mei said, handing the photo back to me. I didn’t see when she’d done it, but the eye patch was gone from her left eye.

I could see the “blue eye, empty to all” that belonged to a doll. With a soft sigh, it was covered back up.

“Are these other photos of your mom, too?”

“Yeah.”

I looked through the other three photos in the box in order, holding them in front of me. This time, Mei was the one to look down at them from one side.

One photo was of my mother with my grandparents. It looked as if they were standing outside the front door of the house. This one was probably from her middle school days, too.

The next one was of my mother all by herself. She was in a nearby playground, flashing a peace sign on the jungle gym. This one was obviously of her when she was still a child in elementary school.

The last showed the duo of the sisters, taken somewhere in the house. On the back I found a note that said “Ritsuko, 20. With Reiko.” There was eleven years’ difference between the two of them, so Reiko would have been about nine in this picture.

“…Huh,” Mei murmured softly. “Figures.”

“What figures?”

“That they’d look alike.”

“Huh?”

“Your mom and…uh, your aunt.”

“Oh…you think so?”

“It doesn’t really show in the picture of the two of them, but if you compare their faces when they were kids like in the second and third ones, they’re almost identical.”

Mei was right. It was the same thing I’d felt when I’d first seen my mother’s yearbook picture. That, adjusting for age, the two girls really did look a lot alike.

I mean, they were full-blooded sisters, after all, so it wasn’t such a shocking idea. That’s what I told myself so very casually in my own mind, but to Mei I said, “Maybe, yeah,” and tilted my head from side to side. I think she might have given me kind of a peeved look.

“Is your Aunt Reiko not here today?” Mei asked in a formal tone, her right eye narrowing smoothly.

“I think she went out somewhere,” I replied.

“You said she uses the side house as an office?”

“She says it’s her studio. I’ve never been inside, though.”

“So she works on art at home, huh?”

“Yeah. She studied oil painting in art school, and I heard she’s won prizes at contests and stuff since then…According to her, that’s her real job.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

When Mei had finished listening to the “confession” of Katsumi Matsunaga, she let out a sigh even longer and deeper than Mochizuki’s had been. Tugged back from my reflections, I stopped the tape player.

“Return ‘the casualty’ to Death…,” Mei murmured in a hushed tone. It was almost as if she were intoning some kind of ghastly spell. Her expression looked incredibly tense, and her face incredibly pale.

“All the parts where he says the name of the ‘extra person’ were totally fuzzed out, right?” I asked just to make sure, and Mei nodded silently. “Does that mean the corruption of the records goes as far as this?”

“…Probably.”

“If those kinds of changes could happen to this tape, then…”

At that point, I gave voice to a faint doubt that had been nagging at me.

“How come the name of the ‘extra person’ for each year doesn’t disappear from that binder Mr. Chibiki writes it down in? Or how come it doesn’t get smudged or something?”

“I dunno.” Mei cocked her head to one side, but finally she said, “It could be that Mr. Chibiki’s notes
have been overlooked
purely by accident.”

“Overlooked?”

“Or maybe they’re exempt.”

“By some kind of accident?”

“I don’t really get it, but maybe it’s the stance Mr. Chibiki takes as an ‘observer,’ or maybe it’s the time he writes down his notes, or it could be the location in the secondary library itself…All kinds of factors could be combining to produce
that sort of anomaly
. Or it could be that this tape is the abnormality.”

“How so?”

“Look, it’s a record from the only year ever when things stopped partway through the year. Maybe when ‘the casualty’ is returned to Death,
even something like this
gets affected, which is exceptional.”

“Hm-m-m.”

“Either way, since the thing we’re facing is
this ‘supernatural natural phenomenon,’
all we can do is accept it
for what it is
…”

An unsettled silence dragged out for a few beats after that.

Staring at the silent tape player, Mei said nothing. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but in the end she said nothing.

I wonder what’s wrong. She’s not usually like this…

“Could I ask you something?”

Finally, I was the one who spoke.

“It’s not about this tape, but it’s been on my mind since way back.”

“…What?”

“About your
cousin
, Misaki Fujioka.”

I’d meant to switch subjects pretty much impulsively. But Mei reacted with a “Yeah?” and an abstracted look on her face. I followed up, undaunted, “I forget when, but you know that picture you drew in your sketchbook? You know, the girl you said you were going to give wings to last of all…”

Mei didn’t answer.

“You also said it was half your imagination, half modeled on someone, so…Was the model Misaki?”

After the slightest of pauses, Mei replied quietly, “I guess.”

“Were you guys close?”

“…I guess.”

“Why was she…”

I was about to load on another question when Mei interrupted, shaking her head slowly. “Later. I’ll—” She pressed her palm hard against the eye patch over her left eye. “I’ll tell you about it later. Let me think a little longer. Please…”

Just at that moment, Mochizuki returned. As soon as he opened the door and saw us, he gave a deliberate cough, then told us, “I think dinner’s going to be soon. They want us all to come to the dining hall.

“Also, that librarian, Mr. Chibiki, came. He said he’s here to support Ms. Mikami.”

It wasn’t yet seven o’clock at night…

Apparently in answer to Mochizuki’s wish, rain had started to fall. It was only at the level of a drizzle, but since the wind had picked up, we constantly heard the sound of the rain beating against the windows.

The dining hall was on the first floor, off in the right-hand corner from the front door—northeast, if you prefer cardinal directions—a spacious room taking up one entire corner of the building. Enough for ten rectangular tables covered in white tablecloths. Each was accompanied by four chairs. Some food had already been laid out.

“First of all, everyone—” Ms. Mikami began, looking around at the fourteen students gathered there. “Mr. Chibiki has come today to lend us a hand. As you know, he’s the librarian in the secondary library. Let’s have a quick introduction. Mr. Chibiki?”

Mr. Chibiki stood up. Even though it was the middle of summer, he was dressed in his usual all-black and his hair was as shaggy as ever.

“Hello, my name is Chibiki.”

He looked at each of our faces in turn, running a fingertip along the black frame of his glasses.

“I suspected Ms. Mikami might encounter quite a few difficulties undertaking this trip alone, and so I decided I would come along. Forgive the intrusion.”

Compared to how he treated Mei and me in the library, his speech was obviously strained and smacked of being on his
best behavior
. I suppose it was because it had been such a long time since he’d quit teaching social studies and had last spoken formally to a large group of students like this. In any case, just then—

“I’m also well aware of the peculiar circumstances into which this year’s third-year Class 3 has been placed.”

All of a sudden, Mr. Chibiki touched on the issue at the center of it all. His voice was more detached and harsh than strictly necessary, perhaps due to his efforts not to expose his own tension or anxiety.

The atmosphere in the room froze over instantly.

“The plan is for everyone to ascend Yomiyama tomorrow, and naturally I will accompany you. I intend to help however I can to ensure everything goes well. Let’s all be careful of accidents on our return. Still…” Mr. Chibiki glanced at the window, and then shifted his gaze to Ms. Mikami, who was at his table. “The weather has deteriorated somewhat.

“If there’s rain tomorrow, the outing will be canceled, correct, Ms. Mikami?”

“Oh. Yes.” Ms. Mikami shifted her head uneasily. “We’ll see how things are tomorrow…”

“Very good.” Mr. Chibiki turned back to us and continued. “I was hoping we’d be able to have a barbecue outside in the true spirit of a summer camping trip, but…”

His tone was much more casual than it had been. And his voice much gentler.

“Considering the circumstances, I suppose that’s not possible. Tonight, at least, it’s best to keep as low a profile as practicable. Let’s take the rain as a sign that heaven is supporting that decision.

“In any event, I’m glad to be here. If you feel ill or have anything on your mind, please feel free to come see me.”

For a while after that, the time passed with the atmosphere feeling intensely uncomfortable, even suffocating.

The intermittent sound of rain hitting the windows. Voices wafting sporadically from each table, too low to make out. The sounds came together to form a low, unsettling murmur.

When the caretaker Mrs. Numata began busily bringing out the food, the atmosphere in the room started to relax at last.

“Maybe we should tell Mr. Chibiki about the tape,” I whispered to Mei.

“I think we should, anyway,” she replied, shooting a look at Mochizuki and Teshigawara, who shared our table. Mochizuki inclined his head to one side without answering, but Teshigawara pursed his lips and shook his head.

“What, are you opposed?” I asked.

“I’m not saying I’m a hundred percent against it, but…” Teshigawara pursed his lips again, a glum look on his face. “I guess we can’t keep the secret to ourselves forever. And I dunno, maybe talking to that guy and seeing what he has to say is one option. But…”

“Don’t you want to hear what he thinks about it? No matter how you slice it, Mr. Chibiki has spent a long time observing this ‘phenomenon.’”

“I guess that’s true…”

“Then let’s tell him.”

“…Okay.”

“Misaki and I will wait for a good opportunity and talk to him after dinner.”

“…Yeah, okay.”

Teshigawara’s face was still glum, but he nodded reluctantly.

“All right, everybody, eat up now!” Mrs. Numata’s cheerful voice urged us, and we began to eat. I didn’t get the impression that anyone worked there except this husband and wife, so I guess Mr. Numata was the cook.

“Mr. Chibiki brought us very high-quality meat, you know. After he went to all that trouble, we decided to try cooking it in barbecue-style skewers. Go on, eat as much as you like. Don’t be shy asking for more rice, either. You’re all still growing.”

Even with the encouragement, though…

Neither the circumstances nor the atmosphere did much to encourage anyone’s appetite. It did nothing for me, either. I knew I was hungry, and the food all looked delicious, but I couldn’t work up any gusto for eating.

I wondered just how much the Numatas knew about the background and purpose of this trip. Then add in the question of whether they were here for that trip fifteen years ago, and my mind started working all over again…

As my eyes lazily followed Mrs. Numata’s fluttering return to the kitchen, I noticed Mr. Numata standing in the shadow of the door, peeking into the dining hall. I watched the two exchange words as Mrs. Numata passed by him, but his face was gruffness personified, as always. And in that moment, the light in his sunken, beady eyes struck me as deeply unnerving.