Book Girl and the Corrupted Angel (7 page)

“Oh, absolutely true. Next time I’ll be careful. She was an aggressive girl, and things just…”

Mr. Mariya wiped away his sweat with a handkerchief.

“Oh, is Nanase working at the library today?” he asked.

“Actually…I don’t think we can help you right now.”

I gave him the short version of how Kotobuki’s best friend had disappeared.

“I see. That’s awful,” Mr. Mariya murmured, furrowing his brow, full of sympathy. Then he said something unexpected.

“Nanase’s friend is that Yuka Mito girl who’s playing Turandot at the recital, no? I met her a few times when I went to Shirafuji to mentor. She lacked a little polish, but there was something about her that shone. She seemed like the kind of girl who would grow with a good mentor. I was looking forward to hearing her Turandot. I had no idea whatsoever that such a thing had happened to her…That’s too bad.”

“Do you have any ideas about who Mito might have been taking lessons from? Apparently she called him her Angel of Music.”

Mr. Mariya’s face hardened suddenly, and he clasped his hands together firmly. The heavy-looking watch glinted on his left wrist.

“Her Angel of Music…”

“Yes. Have you heard of it?”

He slowly let out a breath and unlocked his fingers, then looked at me apologetically.

“No. I wasn’t that close with Mito. But I’ll ask the musicians I know.”

“Thank you very much.”

I bowed my head.

“Oh, Ms. Shoko Kagami from Shirafuji said to ask how you were doing.”

Mr. Mariya broke out into a grin.

“Oh, you met her? She’s beautiful, isn’t she? All the boys around me yearned for her. She has a strong, forceful voice, and she got typecast in roles like Carmen.”

“Yes, she’s very pretty. She said that you used to be a rising star.”

“Ha-ha-ha. She’s exaggerating. I’m nothing that special. I’m much better suited to teaching here casually,” he countered lightly, his cheerful voice spilling over with brightness.

His breezy smile was so noble it made me feel wonderful.

“When things settle back down, we can come help again.”

“I’ll be here.”

We gave our words of farewell, and then I left the room.

I was meeting up with Kotobuki in the library after that.

I closed the door to the music room and was walking down the hall when suddenly a hand shot out from around a corner and grabbed my shoulder.

I jumped and felt goose bumps rising at the sensation of fingers digging into my skin through the material of my uniform.

When I turned around, I saw that a boy of about my height with glasses and colorless hair was glaring at me with a biting gaze.

It was the boy who had called me awful in the library before!

The world around me suddenly darkened, and I stiffened as if a maniac with a knife had appeared.

“Hey! What were you talking to Mariya about?”

“Who…are you?”

“That doesn’t matter. Answer me. What did you say to him?”

I scowled at his imperious tone and shook his hand off.

“I don’t need to answer to someone I don’t know.”

I turned my back on him and started to walk briskly away when a cold voice stabbed into me from behind.

“What a heartwarming scene.”

The low voice was like the moaning of the wind that I’d heard in the stairwell, and the dark, bone-chilling gaze I’d felt that day came back to me, and all at once my skin prickled. When I turned around, jet-black eyes were glaring at me hatefully.

“Getting close to Mariya—I bet you get along. You’re both hypocrites.”

“What…are you talking about?”

“About you and Mariya. You’re both living in pretty little worlds and glossing over things with your smiles. You hurt others so you don’t get hurt yourself.”

I was staggered by this surreal situation, being relentlessly criticized by a stranger—I didn’t even know his name—and my breathing grew more strained. His pointed gaze crawled over my face like a snake.

“You’re always like that. You act like you’re obtuse about Kotobuki, too, but aren’t you really just playing off the fact that you’re not into it? It’s not that guys like you don’t notice. You just don’t want to know. You hate getting dirty, so even though you don’t feel that way at all, you act nice and build up expectations, and I call people like that hypocrites.”

Why did he hate me so much? Did he like Kotobuki? Did he dislike me because he had the wrong idea about us?

The thought crossed my mind, but the knives of his words overpowered it as they sliced into my chest, and the pain sent me reeling.

I was a hypocrite? It wasn’t that I didn’t notice. I just didn’t want to know?

Even though I don’t feel that way, I was acting nice and jerking Kotobuki around?

His words spun me around me like a pitch-black cutting wind and sliced into my flesh, sending up a spray of blood.

The back of my brain burned as if there were a fire pressing against it, and several times a lump rose in my throat, but it was uncontrolled and didn’t form into words. I couldn’t decide how to respond to his animosity—should I be angry, should I run, should I laugh it off?

Impaled by his piercing eyes, I stood immobilized as his funereal voice resounded in my ears.

“Don’t go near Mariya again.”

When he disappeared from sight, I was finally able to move again and sweat broke out all over my body.

What had just happened? Who
was
that guy?

And where did he get off telling me not to go near Mr. Mariya?

I wanted to go back to the music room and put the screws to Mr. Mariya about it, but the guy was still nearby. I felt his dark eyes glaring at me and I got scared.

In the end, after all my hesitation, I went to the library.

Kotobuki worked busily behind the desk.

“Sorry. The other girl who’s on duty was out today. Just give me a second.”

“I’ll be in the reading area, then.”

“You look kind of spacey, Inoue.”

“Nah, not really.”

The guy’s voice and glare still lingered in my mind. I couldn’t talk to Kotobuki about it, about how I was jerking her around.

Just then, from somewhere nearby, I heard that same voice from moments ago.

“Kotobuki? I can take care of the rest. You can go home.”

A student wearing glasses, surrounded by a somber air, appeared silently next to Kotobuki, and I shuddered.

“But you’re not on duty today, Omi.”

“There’s not much left to do, so I can take over. There’s someone waiting for you.”

Kotobuki stole a glance at me.

I stood rooted to the spot, bloodcurdling thoughts running through my head.

“Well…I guess you can have the keys. Thanks, Omi.”

“Sure. Bye.”

He sent us off with a gruff look.

“Was that guy a first-year? What’s his name?” I asked as we walked down the hall, desperately hiding how rattled I was.

“You mean Omi? His name’s Shiro. Yeah, he’s a first-year.”

“I’ve never seen him at the library before. He works there, right?”

“Maybe ’cos he was out for the whole first semester. He’s a little frail.”

“…Are you guys friends?”

“What? Of course not. He’s so quiet. Even when it’s his shift, he hardly talks at all!”

She denied it fervently, her face red. When I saw how Kotobuki was acting, I remembered what Omi said to me and felt like my chest was being crushed.

“You’re…glossing over things with your smile. You hurt others so you don’t get hurt yourself.”

“It’s not that guys like you don’t notice. You just don’t want to know.”

I remembered the way Kotobuki had looked at me when I’d gone to visit her at the hospital. And then the tears she’d shown me at rehearsal for the play…

“You may not remember it, but I…in middle school, I…”

“You…hate me. You won’t be open with me.”

“I’m sure you don’t remember. But it meant a lot to me. So I went to see you again after that. Over and over, all through the winter. Every day.”

Her words, her tears, that vulnerable look—what they had meant.

What Kotobuki had so desperately wanted to tell me—maybe I
had
been refusing to think about it.

Because for me, there was only one girl in the world, only Miu, and I would never be able to love like that again, focusing all of my emotions on someone.

I couldn’t have strong feelings like that for anyone but Miu.

But then wasn’t it cruel to be with Kotobuki like this?

Kotobuki was sad about the disappearance of her best friend, so wasn’t my desire to help nothing but smug hypocrisy because I didn’t want to be a bad person? If the worst should happen, was I prepared to help Kotobuki with her pain?

As I thought these things over, they dug into my chest, and it felt like they would knock the breath out of me.

Even though I could feel Kotobuki torturously stealing glances at me as I gritted my teeth, my face tense, it didn’t change anything. It took everything I had to talk about the weather, my words horribly wooden—“Sure is cold today”—and I just felt awkward.

By the time we reached Mito’s house, we were both completely silent.

The nameplate had toppled off the wall, the lights were out, and the house was now completely abandoned.

I knew Kotobuki was grasping at straws, thinking that if she came here, maybe she would discover something. But the bleak sight that assaulted us eradicated even that paltry hope. The mail cascading out of the mailbox had been exposed to the weather and grown tattered, and the glass in one of the windows facing the yard was broken. In the midst of a perfectly ordinary neighborhood, this was the only house that stood like a graveyard.

Kotobuki took unsteady steps through the front gate and rang the doorbell.

There was no answer.

Next she pounded on the door with a fist—again and again, gritting her teeth, tears beading at the corners of her eyes.

Still she didn’t hear the voice she’d hoped to from behind the door.

“Forget it. You’re going to hurt your hands.”

I grabbed her hands from behind to stop her. My own heart felt like it was ripping apart.

At the same time, the word
hypocrite
tumbled through my mind and threatened to knock me to the ground.

Kotobuki turned her back on me, hung her head, and wept softly.

Kotobuki was silent until she got home.

She stopped in front of a three-story building and murmured, her voice barely audible, “This is it.” There was a sign for a dry cleaner’s store on the first floor.

“So your family are dry cleaners, huh?”

She nodded and again murmured, “My grandma does it.” She had stopped crying at least, but her eyes were bright red and she was sniffling.

“Is it okay that you’re so late coming home?”

“It’s fine. Um…I’m—I’m sorry about what happened,” she said, her voice hoarse, and then she went up the stairs to the second floor.

She looked down at me from there with a terribly fragile expression.

She looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t say it. Her face fell slightly, and she disappeared behind the door.

The instant our eyes met, I thought I saw guilt surface in Kotobuki’s face.

That feeling swirled around inside me in a pitch-black mass and made it hard for me to breathe.

“You’re both hypocrites.”

“You hate getting dirty, so even though you don’t feel that way at all, you act nice and build up expectations.”

It happened just as I was starting to walk down the dark, freezing road to go home.

I saw the shadow of a person standing on the other side of the street. It looked like he was staring at the door Kotobuki had just disappeared behind.

The clouds covering the sky broke, and moonlight illuminated his profile for just an instant.

Omi?!

Just as I was trying to get another look, the shadow turned its back and started walking.

I followed quickly after him. That
was
Omi, wasn’t it? What was he doing there? Had he been following us?

At that thought, the hair on my back stood on end and a chill came up through my legs.

The shadow walked steadily on.

Following him, my own steps grew quicker. My breathing became strained, and I panted more. My warm, cloudy white breath caressed my cold cheeks.

Before I realized it, I was standing frozen in a pitch-dark alley that the light of the streetlamps didn’t reach.

The shadow became one with the darkness, and I couldn’t find a shape that looked like Omi anywhere.

No—but I was sure he had turned this corner! Where did he disappear to?!

In my confusion, I heard a sudden, furtive singing.

It was a low voice that sounded like it was weeping.

A voice like a ghost’s filled with bitterness and sorrow.

What the—?!
Where was this voice coming from?! In front of me? No, behind me? No, from over there? No, it wasn’t there—it was from over there. No, not there, either!