Brave Story (15 page)

“From the first two games. Setting it in modern Japan seems kinda lame, if you ask me. And if it’s going to start out like that, we probably won’t get to ride in that flying boat on the posters until, like, the third disc.”

Wataru sighed. “You think I’m talking about
Saga III
.”

Katchan’s eyes widened. “You weren’t?”

The two were in the courtyard behind school after classes let out, at the top of the concrete stairs just outside the library exit. It had been drizzling since morning, and didn’t show any signs of letting up. A large low-pressure front was coming, said the weather report.
Chance of heavy rains in western Japan.

And wizards.

Wataru had told Katchan everything: the girl’s voice in his room that came from nowhere and the wizard in the haunted building who cast a spell on him. He had been bursting to tell someone, and now it came out in a flood of meticulous, vivid detail. And Katchan thought that he was talking about a game.

What could he expect? Would he have believed Katchan if it were him telling the story? Invisible girls? Old wizards? All the stuff of fairy tales and video games. He could insist it was all real as much as he liked, and he would still have no way to prove it.

Wataru felt exhausted, and his thoughts were muddled. He had hardly slept the night before, and he worried he might have caught a cold running around in the haunted building. He sat vacantly watching the rain come down.

“Hey!” Katchan’s urgent whisper snapped Wataru out of his sleepy reverie. “Look! Over there!”

Katchan was tugging on Wataru’s elbow and pointing toward the library. Through the large glass window they could see part of a single shelf. Somebody was standing in front of it. The figure moved. The window was higher up than they were, so even standing on tiptoe and craning their necks they could see the figure only from the shoulders up. Still, Wataru knew in an instant who it was.

“Mitsuru!”

He was wearing a white, short-sleeved polo shirt—unusual for a guy who always stalked the hallways at school dressed in black.

“It’s not
just
Mitsuru,” Katchan said, ducking down behind his umbrella so he wouldn’t be seen. “Kenji Ishioka’s in there too!”

Mitsuru stopped in front of the bookshelf, grabbed a book, and opened it. Kenji moved in, trying to see what the book was, but the other boy turned so he couldn’t read it. As they watched, two of Kenji’s sixth-grade flunkies came up from behind him, and the three boys surrounded Mitsuru.

Wataru was surprised. Sure, they all went to the same school, but for some reason, he never imagined seeing Mitsuru and Kenji together.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Wataru whispered, edging closer to the window.

Mitsuru didn’t look frightened in the least. From his expression, it seemed he hadn’t even noticed Kenji and his crew. His gaze was fixed on an opened page of the book, the angle of his head making the prominent line of his nose stand out even more than usual. Perfectly straight bangs fell down in front of his eyes. For a girl, Mitsuru’s hair would have been on the short side, but it was long for a boy. He could get away with that style for now, but not when he entered junior high, where conformity was the rule. Still, it looked good on him, and several of the boys at school had unadvisedly tried to imitate the look.

Maybe Kenji doesn’t like his hairdo?

Kenji was extremely sensitive to any perceived attempt to steal his spotlight. Perhaps this had been Mitsuru’s inadvertent crime.

Just then, Kenji stuck out his fist, hitting Mitsuru on the shoulder, hard. Mitsuru staggered and fell from view.

“Uh-oh, this could be bad,” Katchan whispered excitedly. “Isn’t the librarian here today?”

Apparently not. Kenji and his gang would never make a mistake like that. They were meticulous when it came harassing younger students.

“You think we should go get somebody?”

They heard a shrill laugh from inside, probably one of Kenji’s goons.

“We gotta go to the office!”

Katchan started to rise, but Wataru yanked on his sleeve. “Shhh! Hang on a second.”

Mitsuru came back into view. This time, he was facing Kenji straight on. Kenji had his back to the window, so they were able to clearly see Mitsuru’s expression. He was a little shorter than his adversary, but that didn’t seem to bother him at all.

Kenji took a step back. The loud, checkered shirt he wore filled up half of the window. Wataru folded his umbrella and snuck right up beneath the eaves.

Mitsuru’s lips were moving, but his words were barely audible through the glass. The only thing Wataru caught was, “Just who do you think I am?”

He craned his neck out a little farther, and his eyes met Mitsuru’s through the glass.
Uh-oh!
He quickly jerked his head back and leaned hard against the wall below the window. Mitsuru had seen him for sure, and Kenji and his goons wouldn’t have missed the look in his eyes. This was bad to the tenth power.

He stood there, pressed against the wall, with the rain falling onto his face and wetting his hair. Nothing happened. Katchan was standing on the top exit step with his eyes opened wide. He was about to say something, but Wataru held a finger up to his lips. Wataru counted to ten, then slowly moved sideways with his back against the wall until he made it to where Katchan was standing.

“You okay?” Katchan whispered.

“They saw me,” Wataru whispered back. “Let’s get inside. It’s dangerous out here.” He picked up his soaked umbrella. Katchan folded his and gave it a shake, spraying droplets of water everywhere.

Suddenly, the library window opened and Mitsuru stuck his head out. He didn’t say a word. He just looked straight into Wataru’s eyes. It was like he was scanning him, reading some hidden information that only he could see.

Several seconds passed before Mitsuru smiled, pulled back into the library, and shut the window.

“Wh-wh-wha…” Katchan stuttered. “What was that all about?”

Wataru clutched the handle of his umbrella. His hands were shaking. He was frightened, and terrified of Mitsuru. It took him a few moments to compose himself, after which they headed into the library, despite Katchan’s protests. It was too late. There was no sign of Mitsuru or Kenji and his goons. A few girls were studying quietly in the reading room.

“What do you think they were talking about?” Wataru muttered, half to himself.

“Maybe they were talking about the ghost in that photo,” Katchan replied.

Wataru spun around so fast that he startled Katchan into jumping a few feet back. “What photo? The one he took at Mihashi Shrine?”

“That’s the one.”

“Why would Kenji care about something like that?”

“Hadn’t you heard? Oh, right, you’ve been too busy daydreaming about summer vacation.”

Katchan told him how Kenji wanted the photograph Mitsuru had taken, and had been pestering him about it. “Ishioka wants to take it to the TV station so he can get on that show.”

So that’s why he wants Mitsuru’s photograph so badly.

“Pretty lame, huh? It’s classic Kenji Ishioka, though.”

It was lame. Wataru couldn’t understand why someone would want to be on TV so badly that he would try to use somebody else’s story like that.

“Why doesn’t he just give him the picture?” Wataru said, disgusted. “Better than getting picked on.” He recalled his run-in with Mitsuru at the Mihashi Shrine. The memory was so vivid that, like a fresh scab, he was sure it would start to bleed if he picked at it. He shuddered, recalling the look of sheer contempt Mitsuru had given him. “He doesn’t believe the picture’s real, anyway.”

Wataru was getting angry again. Katchan gave him a perplexed look. Finally, he scratched the side of his head and muttered, “Well, why don’t you tell him to do that? You’re with him at cram school, aren’t you?”

“I’m not
with
him!”

Katchan blinked. “What’s your problem?”

“You just won’t shut up. Why do I always have to explain everything to you? Not like you even understand. Are you stupid or something?”

Wataru knew that it was wrong to take his frustrations out on Katchan like that, but he didn’t feel like apologizing. He started off down the hallway. His friend hesitantly started to follow, but Wataru just walked faster.

“You going home?” Katchan shouted after him. “See ya!”

Wataru continued to walk. By the time he was off campus and well on his way home he calmed down enough to realize how mean and selfish he had been. Oh well, he couldn’t do anything about it now. All he could do was plod home alone.

That evening Uncle Lou called just as he was finishing dinner. Kuniko, who was clearing the dishes from the table, flinched when the phone rang and glared at it over her shoulder. When Wataru made a move to pick up the phone, she stopped him.

“That’s okay. I’ll get it.” She tentatively lifted the receiver, but as soon as she heard who it was, her icy expression thawed. “Wataru, your uncle wants to speak with you.”

Wataru’s conscience had been bothering him ever since the scene at the library. His head was spinning with thoughts about how he should apologize to Katchan tomorrow, and what he would say, and whether Katchan would be too mad to forgive him. Dinner had tasted like paste in his mouth. He wished there was someone else he could talk to about Mitsuru and everything else. When the phone rang, he knew his prayers had been answered.
Uncle Lou!

“Hello? Wataru speaking.”

“Hey!” said his uncle. “Have you had your dinner? What did you have? Hamburgers? Spaghetti? Some of your ma’s meat’n’cabbage rolls? Wow, now I’m getting hungry.”

Phone calls from Uncle Lou always started this way. Hamburgers, spaghetti, and cabbage rolls—in tomato sauce, not cream—were his favorite foods.

“Hey, Uncle Lou…” Wataru began, but then felt his throat start to tighten, and tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. That was a surprise. He didn’t realize he was so worked up about things. “I…”

“Actually,” his uncle went on, oblivious to Wataru’s predicament, “to tell you the truth, I’m calling because I wanted your advice about something.”

Another surprise.

“An old friend of mine got married—he’s living out there by you now. Here’s the deal: his kid was recently in an accident and is in the hospital.” His uncle explained that the boy—a local fourth-grader—was going to make a full recovery, but he had broken his right thighbone, and so would have to be in the hospital for quite some time. “Anyway, I’m going to go visit him in the hospital, but I wasn’t sure what I should bring him as a get-well present. A book? Or a game, maybe? I couldn’t come up with anything. But I was thinking, since you’re his age you might have a few ideas.”

Uncle Lou explained that he had several things to attend to, and so wouldn’t be arriving until Friday morning, but he’d buy the gift when he got to Tokyo. “Hard to find anything out here in the boondocks that a city kid would care for.”

“Are you going to be staying with us?” asked Wataru. “If you’re going to the hospital on Saturday, then you’ll be spending the night in Tokyo, right? You should come!”

Wataru had his back to the kitchen, so he wasn’t able to see the sour face his mother made as she listened to their exchange. She knew Wataru loved his uncle, but she couldn’t stand her brother-in-law for his crude ways and lack of manners. Of course, she would never say such a thing out loud.

Meanwhile, Satoru Mitani was turning down the invitation. “No, I’ve got a lot to do, and I’d be up too late to go visiting,” he lied. He was actually far more sensitive to other people’s feelings than Kuniko gave him credit for, and he knew exactly where he stood with his brother’s wife. “Maybe next time.”

“You always say that, but you haven’t stayed with us for so long!” Wataru’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. “When I was little you used to always stay with us when you came to Tokyo!”

He could hear his uncle laugh on the other end of the line. “Hah! You’re still little! Or have you grown big like Godzilla since the last time I saw you? That must be why we’ve been having so many earthquakes here in Chiba. It’s from you stomping around, making the ground shake all the way out here! Whoa, I just felt another one!”

Wataru giggled. Two years ago, his uncle had taken him to see the latest Godzilla movie—the one made in Hollywood and not in Japan. From the very beginning, his uncle groused about how the giant, funny-looking U.S. lizard wasn’t the
real
thing. Still, they both loved the scene where Godzilla had come into the city, his pounding footsteps shaking the ground, sending taxis and cars and pedestrians bouncing through the air. They had met up with Wataru’s parents for dinner after the show, and the two of them kept acting out that scene, bouncing in their seats on the train, jumping suddenly as they walked, and—much to Kuniko’s dismay—leaping from their chairs in the restaurant.

Wataru wanted to see his uncle. He needed to talk to someone about how the girls made fun of him in class, and how he snuck out of the house late one night. He wanted to talk about how he used up the film in the disposable camera and how Mitsuru was rude to him. Uncle Lou wouldn’t laugh at him or look disgusted. He wouldn’t lecture him either.