The Book of Heroes (23 page)

“You don’t often get headaches—are you sure you don’t have a cold?” Her mother put her hand on U-ri’s forehead. “You don’t feel like you have a fever.”

No, stop. Don’t cry.
It was everything U-ri could do to keep from bawling on the spot. How could she tell her mother she was sorry? Why did she have to apologize anyway? Because she was hiding something? Because she wasn’t Yuriko anymore?

U-ri shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mom. I—I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Great. Why did I say that?
Now she’ll suspect something.

“What are you talking about? You’re a silly girl, Yuriko. Go on, the bath’s all hot. I’ll bring a change for you, so just jump in. You need it—” her mother added, holding her nose and laughing. She pushed U-ri in the direction of the bath. Her mother’s hand on her back felt soft and warm.

U-ri stood in the bathroom under the shower and cried.
This is it. I’m not crying again after this one time, I swear. Just let me cry now and get it out of my system.
She sank down in the bath and poured hot water over her head, and felt herself relax a little. The door to the bathroom opened. She could see her mother through the fogged glass.

“It’s warm today, but you’d better wear a long-sleeved shirt, just in case.”

“’Kay, Mom.”

Light was streaming in through the window—
it’s still morning.
She usually took baths at night, and the bathroom was never this bright. Her mother was a bit of a neat freak, especially when it came to the kitchen and the bathroom, so every surface was sparkling clean. But the apartment was old enough that there were still cracks in between the tub and the wall where a little mold had grown, stubbornly resisting her mother’s attempts to flush it out.

U-ri traced one crack with her finger, then let her hand splash back into the tub.

Splash.

Seeing the bathroom in the daylight reminded her of something. —
When was that again?

Yuriko had just gotten home and was getting ready to go to a playdate at Kana’s house, when her brother had come rushing in to take a shower.

CHAPTER SIX

Digging Deeper

When was that exactly? A month ago?
No, it was right after her brother entered eighth grade. U-ri was a new fifth-grader. She remembered now why he had come home early from school that day.

“Family visits this week. Classes are getting out early.”

The after-school clubs were all on break, so her brother was going to go out with some kids from the neighborhood baseball team and practice.

“I’m just gonna take a quick shower before heading out.”

The memories came back into sharper focus. Mom was out shopping, leaving U-ri alone at home. The front door had banged open, and her brother bounded into the bathroom before she even had time to say hi.

She looked in. He had already taken off his school jacket and was standing there in his shirt and pants. He quickly closed the changing room door.

“Sorry, U-ri, I was sweating like a pig in phys ed. I kind of stink,” he told her before she had time to ask why he would take a shower before going out to practice again.

Soon she heard the sound of the shower running.

It hadn’t seemed all that strange at the time. Her brother had always been fastidious about cleanliness. Even though they took baths at night, he would sometimes shower before leaving for school. She hadn’t paid it that much attention. If she hadn’t been taking a bath now, during the day like this, she would’ve forgotten about it entirely.

Something about it made her uneasy.

Maybe there was more to it than I thought.

U-ri sat in the tub, hugging her knees to her chest, thinking. Had he taken more showers during the day after that? Hadn’t he come home a few times and run into the shower without even saying hi to their mom?
That wasn’t like Hiroki. Why didn’t I notice it before?

The hot water from the showerhead beat down on her furrowed brow.

And what did the policeman with the eyebrows like a clown say?

“Ever since Hiroki entered the eighth grade, he’d been having trouble getting along with his classmates.”

Now even what her mother had said to the policeman sounded ominous. “I don’t think he would have told her anything to make her worry. He never said anything about troubles to us…”

What hadn’t he told them?

Was he being bullied?

Yuriko sat up straight, letting her hands fall down into the tub. The water splashed up into her eyes. It ran down her face and dripped off her chin as she stared at the wall.

Bullying?
It didn’t seem possible.
Who would bully Hiroki?

Hiroki was tough. There was no better word to describe him. He was good at sports, good in school. He was perfect. Even the most dedicated schoolyard bully would have had trouble finding a weak spot to needle Hiroki about. If anything,
he
would have been the one doing the bullying—and that wasn’t even remotely imaginable. Hiroki Morisaki was the top of the heap. Even as a middle school student, he had presence.

U-ri sighed.
What am I thinking? The hot water must be getting to me.

She got out of the tub and twisted the shower knob until the water ran cold, and stuck her head under it to cool off.

So what did the policeman mean when he said Hiroki hadn’t been getting along with his classmates if there hadn’t been any bullying one way or the other? How was she supposed to interpret that?

And the fact remained that her brother had hurt two of his friends. He had gone out and bought a knife, and stabbed them. He was going for the kill, and he had succeeded with one of them at least. Those were the facts, and there was no getting around them.

U-ri chewed her lip. She realized she had been avoiding facing the facts of what happened for too long.
That was a mistake.
U-ri returned to the living room, drying her hair with a towel. Her mother was in the kitchen running the juicer.
Banana juice. My favorite.

“I thought you might like some after your bath.”

Her mother set a large cup on the counter and filled it to the brim. She always put a little ice cream in her juice, making it thick and sweet.

It was one of Hiroki’s favorites too. U-ri savored the taste. Magically filling your stomach was certainly convenient, but there was nothing like the real thing.

“Hey, Mom?”

Her mother was still standing by the sink. She looked up from her own smaller cup of juice.

“Hiroki always liked your banana juice, didn’t he?”

Her mother’s smile twitched. Her hand gripping the cup shivered.

“He does.”

“I hope he comes home soon,” U-ri said, her voice suddenly choked. It wasn’t an act. She really meant it. “Wherever he is, I’ll bet he’s missing that—and your Spanish rice too.”

Her mother closed her mouth and set her cup down next to the sink. Her eyes wandered down to the faucet. She shook her head slightly and looked up. “Maybe I’ll make some tonight then.”

“Maybe he’ll smell it and come home!”

“Yuriko,” her mother said quietly. “Do you think about your brother a lot still?”

U-ri answered her with a question of her own. “Do you?”

“I do. Every day—no, every hour.”

More like every minute.
“Me too,” she said after a moment.

Her mother sat down across from her at the table. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you. Don’t feel like you have to answer if it’s too tough.”

“Okay.”

“Are you angry at your brother?”

U-ri didn’t have to think too long about her response this time. “I am, a little.”

Her mother’s eyes opened slightly wider. “What for, exactly?”

“I’m mad that he left home and hasn’t come back.”
Making us worry. Making us cry.
“That’s why I’m angry at him. Other than that, I’m just worried. I worry about him every day.”

Her mother closed her eyes. “You aren’t angry with Hiroki for what he did to his friends?”

U-ri stared at her half-drunk glass of juice. “No. Because I don’t know why he did it. I mean, he never even got into fights much before.”

Her mother nodded silently.

“I think he did it because he got too wrapped up in his own thoughts—something was bothering him so much he didn’t feel like he had another choice. I mean, of course he should have talked to you or dad, or one of his teachers, before bringing a knife to school, and I’m sure there are lots of other things he could have done that would have been better. I just think he would have realized that himself unless he was trapped in some really unusual circumstances. So unusual he couldn’t really
be
himself, you know? And unless I know what the circumstances are, I don’t feel like I can say he was entirely to blame. Sure, what he did was wrong, but I still want to hear what he has to say about it first. We’re his family, after all.”

At some point while U-ri was talking, her mother had started to cry.

A pain stabbed at U-ri’s chest. She had seen her mother cry many times before. She had even cried along with her. But she had done those things as Yuriko Morisaki. This time was different. She was U-ri now. For the first time, she wasn’t seeing the woman sitting across from her as “Mom,” she was seeing a mother who was terribly worried about her son. Her son who had done something horrible.

It felt very strange. Her mother was right in front of her, in tears, and yet she felt completely calm. She didn’t feel like crying. She felt pity, and more than that, she felt like she had to help—like she was the only one who
could
help. A sense of…
duty
? It ran through her veins, her heart beat with it. It was inside her.

Inside U-ri.

I’m not myself anymore.

I’m an
allcaste
, on the hunt for the King in Yellow.

And this woman, my mother—no, her name is Yoshiko Morisaki.

Poor troubled Yoshiko. Hurt. Sad. A little life spinning in the Circle.
Hear me now, Yoshiko. I will help you.

Something swelled up inside U-ri, and her whole body trembled.

“Don’t cry,” she heard herself say. “You’re crying too much, Mom. It’s not good for you. Hiroki would worry about you.”

Across the table from her, Yoshiko covered her face with her hands.

“Mom, did you know the two boys Hiroki hurt?”

Yoshiko shook her head, her eyes on the table. “I think they were friends of his.”

For the first time, U-ri realized she didn’t even know their names. That is, she was sure no one had told her on purpose. That had probably been for the best when she was Yuriko. She didn’t need to know the harsh realities. But U-ri was different.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know,” Yoshiko said, rubbing her face with her hands and sniffling. Her eyes were red. “Neither of them were in his class until he entered eighth grade; I never met them.”

“So they weren’t in his swimming club?”

“I don’t think so.”

“No, you’re right, they couldn’t have been in his swimming club,” U-ri agreed. “Otherwise they would have been with him from first grade.”

After-school activities at Kibogaoka Middle School were on a strictly voluntary basis. Hiroki had told her once that many of the students chose not to participate in any clubs at all, and most of them went home right after school was over.

But you should definitely join a club when you get here, little Yuri. You’ll make a lot of friends. There’s a lot you can’t tell about somebody just sitting next to them in class.

Hiroki had never complained about anyone in swimming club. If he had, U-ri hadn’t heard about it—which brought her back to the main problem here, that Hiroki wouldn’t have told any of them if he were having difficulties at school. To the contrary, he would have kept it to himself and tried to solve his problems on his own. That was just the way he was. And that was why so many people liked him. He was popular. Which made it even harder to imagine someone picking on him in any serious way. So if he really had been backed into a corner, how did it happen?

That’s the key.
What would it take to make Hiroki Morisaki lose his cool, to make him cry, to make him ashamed? What could have upset his groove so much?

Certainly not schoolyard teasing. Maybe he was jealous of someone? Or someone was jealous of him? No, he must have been used to that already, being at the top of his class or near it all the time. He would have long ago learned how to brush that sort of thing off. It wasn’t anything like that.
So what was it? What was it?

U-ri’s mind raced as she swallowed down the last of the juice. Her teeth clinked on the edge of the glass, snapping her out of her thoughts.

With a start, she realized that somewhere along the line, she had started thinking of her mother as Yoshiko and her brother as Hiroki Morisaki. And her father—

Shiro Morisaki. Yoshiko’s husband.

And Hiroki had never confided in them about any problems he was having at school. If he had said anything at all, things would’ve played out very differently, she was sure.

U-ri shook her head and put her empty glass down on the table. She stood. “Thanks, Mom. The juice was great. I’m going to go study a bit in my room.”

“Okay, just don’t overdo it,” Yoshiko said. But she meant
Don’t worry too much about your brother.

U-ri dashed back into her room, shut the door, and locked it behind her. Her double peeked her head out from the vestments.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m not,” U-ri said, trembling. “I think something’s wrong with me.”

How can I think of my own family like that—as if they were just strangers to me?

“Nothing’s wrong with you at all,” Aju chirped from the desk, his little pink nose twitching reassuringly. “You’re going to have to be able to keep a cool head about things from here on out, or you might lose your way. It’s a good thing.”

“You’ll get used to it, really,” her double said gently. “And don’t worry. Yuriko is still in us, safe. I’ll protect her. And when you’re done, I’ll give her back.”

U-ri grabbed her double’s hand. “Look after Mom while I’m gone, okay?”

“I will. I promise.”

Her double offered U-ri the chair and placed the vestments on her. U-ri started when she saw Sky standing at attention by the door.
That’s still going to take a little getting used to.

Aju scurried up her arm to sit on her shoulder. “What do we do next?”

“We have to find out who the two boys Hiroki hurt are. We have to find out what happened that day.”

“Are we going to his school?”

U-ri shook her head. “I don’t think going there will do much good. The teachers won’t tell me anything, that’s for sure. Going to the police might be quicker.”

Aju squeaked with laughter. “You weren’t planning on going as yourself, were you? Even the police wouldn’t talk to the suspect’s sister.”

“I know
that
.” U-ri frowned. “You got any ideas?”

“Well,” Aju said, “you could transform yourself to look like someone who the police would be more likely to talk to, for starters.”

So what, a reporter?
U-ri dismissed the idea. The reporters who swarmed to their house just after the incident might still be on the case. She didn’t even want to think what would happen were she to make herself look like one of them only to run into the real deal at the school or the police station.

“How about someone who would have a reason to talk to the police or the teachers but wouldn’t necessarily get there as fast as the reporters did?”

“That’s a toughie,” Aju grumbled. “Let me take a look.”

The little field mouse’s beady red eyes sparkled. His tiny feet beat a quick rhythm on U-ri’s shoulder. He stopped.

“You’re talking to the books in the reading room, aren’t you? What did they say?”

“Hang on, hang on, I’m asking the Sage now. He says he has to talk to the infants.”

“Infants?”

“That’s right. He means the youngest books—the ones written during your lifetime.”