Zaregoto Chapter Volume 2 1

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 3

My world is the coolest.

Rokuikan Private University, located in Kinugasa, in Kita

Ward of Kyoto, has a total of three dining halls. Of the three,

the Zonshinkan Chika Dining Hall (lovingly abbreviated to

“Zonchi”) was thought to be the most lively. This was

probably because it had an extensive nu, and it was right

next door to the co-op bookstore.

That day, since I had no class during second period, I went

straight to the Zonshinkan Chika after first period. I’d had no

breakfast that morning—I’d accidentally overslept by a whole

hour—so I thought I might grab an early lunch.

“Man, it’s empty at this hour. Risky business,” I mumbled

to myself, doubting all the while that I was using the phrase

“risky business” correctly. I picked up a tray.

Now, what to eat?

I’m no foodie, so usually I just eat whatever without much

of a fuss. Be it spicy or sweet, I say bring it on. But lately

things had been just a little different.

It was only a month ago that I’d spent a hell of a week in a

place where I’d been served three gourt als a day.

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Now, as an aftereffect, my tongue was still stuck in Snootyville.

It had been a whole month since anything had made

say, “Wow, this is good.” Every ti I ate so-thing, it

always felt like sothing was missing, like so key ingredient

was lacking.

It wasn’t enough of a problem to rit being called a problem,

but I sure was sick of feeling that way. As far as solutions,

I had already thought of two.

The first was fairly simple: Just eat tasty food.

“Can’t hope for that to happen in a school dining hall.”

But that first suggestion was impossible to follow. Not, anyway,

without heading back to that strange, isolated little island.

I won’t say I was totally against the idea, but I certainly

had my reservations.

“So that’s no good.”

Yes, I was talking to myself.

This left one other possible asure, and it was a strongarm

tactic. It was the “beat the child who doesn’t listen” tactic.

Most problems in the world are solved by either giving or

taking.

I made my way to the donburi corner and placed an order.

“Excuse . Large kimchee bowl, please. No rice.”

The lunch lady gave a quizzical expression and said,

“That’s just kimchee, son,” but she dished it out all the sa.

As if it were nothing, she plopped it in front of , displaying

an admirable degree of professionalism.

A big, heaping, mountainous bowl of kimchee. I doubt

there was a single tongue in this world tough enough to chow

all that down and still preserve its sense of taste. I nodded

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with satisfaction, placed the bowl on my tray, and settled the

bill.

The dining hall was so empty that I could hardly decide

where to sit. In another hour, the place would be filled up

with students who had cut out of second period early. I was

never a fan of crowds, so I considered myself under a ti

limit. I took a seat in the corner.

“Down the hatch,” I muttered, and took the first bite. . . .

This. Was. Awful.

I really had to eat a whole bowl of this stuff? Wasn’t this

what was commonly known as suicidal behavior? What cruel

fate had brought to this pass? What had I done?

“Is this divine retribution?”

I guess they also say reap what you sow.

From then on, I wielded my chopsticks in silence. If I kept

on talking to myself, people would start thinking I was a

weirdo. And besides, it’s poor table manners to talk while

you’re eating.

And then, just as I hit my limit—my entire head had gone

numb from the tip of the tongue up, I didn’t know what the

hell I was doing, or, for that matter, who I was, or what the

word who ant, and even what the word ant ant . . .

“Yo.”

She sat in the chair across from .

“Pull that tray back a little, will you?” she said. Then she

pushed my tray toward and placed her own tray in the

newly opened space. Her tray was laden with a plate of

spaghetti carbonara, so tuna-and-kelp salad, and a bonus

fruit dessert for a grand total of three courses.

Oh, how bourgeois.

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I looked to my right, then to my left. The dining hall was

empty as ever. You could practically call it deserted. So why

had she decided to eat her spaghetti directly across from ?

Probably so kind of dare.

“Oh my God, what is that?! It’s all kimchee!” she exclaid

at the shocking sight of my lunch. “Wow! You’re

eating a whole entire bowl of kimchee!”

She was wide-eyed, her hands up in the air like she was doing

a banzai cheer. Maybe that was what she was doing, or maybe

she was surrendering. There was also the possibility that she

was just Muslim. Any of these was fine by , but in reality,

she was probably just surprised.

Her shoulder-length hair had a reddish tint and was done

up in a sort of bob. Her clothes were nothing out of the

ordinary. They were ultra-plain, following the style of so

much of the Rokuikan student body. All of a sudden, when

she sat down, she seed much shorter—but then I realized

most of her height had co from her extra-tall London

boots.

She had a young face, so I couldn’t tell if she was my senior

or a peer. Judging by her deanor alone, it would have

seed plausible that she was my junior, except that being

that I was a freshman, that was pretty much impossible.

“Hey. Y’know, if you don’t respond, I’ll get lonely and

stuff.” She stared at with puppy-dog eyes.

“Right,” I finally said. “Who are you?”

I was pretty sure this was our first encounter. But I’d

learned one thing in the past month: This weird little pocket

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of space known as a “university” had an unusually large

number of people who were friendly and genuine. These

strange people would strike up conversations with you like

you had been their close friend for the past ten years—even if

you had never seen them before in your life. For a guy like

who’s bad at even rembering personal encounters, this made

things difficult from ti to ti.

And surely this girl was another one of those types. Fearing

the hassle of having to deal with a club invitation or,

worse, so religious thing, I went ahead and posed the above

question.

Doing so launched her into an over-the-top shocked pose.

"Hwa?!” she said. “Oh my God! You an you forgot? You’ve

forgotten? You freaking forgot?! Ikkun, that’s so cold!”

Huh.

Judging from her reaction, it seed this was not our first

encounter.

“Ohhh. I am shocked. But what are you gonna do, right?

Yeah, nothing, I guess. You’ve just got a bad mory after all,

right? Well, might as well introduce myself again.” She flashed

both hands at and gave a full-faced grin. “I’m Aoii

Mikoko!”

This might prove to be a painful encounter.

Whether it was our first encounter or not, this was, to be

sure, my first impression of Aoii Mikoko.

Her story was simple. Mikoko-chan and I were classmates.

Not only were we taking the sa core subjects, but we were

also in the sa foreign-language class. We had t face-to-

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 8

face a number of tis, and were in the sa group for the

class training camp before Golden Week. We had even been

paired up before in English class.

“Man . . . from this conversation alone, I must seem like a

total nut for not rembering you.”

“I think you are a total nut!” She laughed lightheartedly.

To be able to laugh so cheerfully after soone had entirely

forgotten her existence took a special kind of vacuousness. I

figured she was probably a pretty nice girl after all.

“Normally, I’d find it pretty disturbing that you forgot

like that. Or rather, I’d be pissed. But that’s just how you are,

right? Like, you don’t forget the stuff that’s really important,

but you forget normal stuff,” she said.

“Well, I can’t argue with that.”

She was exactly right. One ti I had even forgotten if I

was right- or left-handed, and found myself in quite a bind

when I actually tried to sit down and have a al. To top it all

off, when all was said and done, I turned out to be ambidextrous.

"Okay, and what’s happening with you?” I asked. “Why

aren’t you in class?”

“Class? Well, the thing about that is . . .”

For so reason she seed abnormally happy. But I got

the feeling that “abnormally happy” was her default setting.

To be honest, even though I’d seen her before, I still could not

rember what she was like normally. But either way, it was

hard to be put off by this smiley-faced girl.

“I’m playing hooky.”

“Freshn really ought to go to class,” I said.

“Aw, co on, it’s boring. Totally boring. What was it

again? Oh, yeah, my economics class. It’s just a nonstop

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 9

stream of jargon. And it’s like a math class. I’m a humanities

person! And you’re skipping class too!”

“I don’t have a class right now.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Fridays I only have a first period and a fifth period.”

She flung her hands wildly in the air again. “Doesn’t that kind

of suck? That’s like six hours of boredom.”

“Boredom isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

“Hm, I thought boredom was practically the definition of

‘a bad thing.’ Different strokes, I guess.” She began winding

the spaghetti around her fork as she spoke. Unable to successfully

get it all on the utensil, it soon beca a matter of

trial and error. I reckoned it would be awhile before the food

actually reached her mouth. Before I knew it, she had put the

fork down and switched to chopsticks. So much for stick-toitiveness.

“Say . . .” I said.

“Hm? What-what?”

"There are tons of open seats.”

“Yeah, for real. I think this place will fill up pretty soon,

though,” she said.

“But it’s empty now, right?”

“You said it. Sothing wrong with that?"

“I wanna eat alone, so let’s move along now, honey,” I

wanted to say. But then I saw her smile—a vulnerable smile

that showed she couldn’t possibly have imagined she was

about to be completely rejected—even I had to take pity.

“Nah . . . it’s nothing.”

“Hm? You’re a weird guy.” She gave the pouty lips.

“Ah, but I guess if you weren’t weird, you wouldn’t be you.

Weirdness is like your identity, right?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 0

I couldn’t help but feel like I was being inadvertently

insulted. But then again, it wasn’t as bad as completely

forgetting soone you had been regularly interacting with for

a whole month. So I swept the notion aside and switched my

focus back to the kimchee.

“Ikkun, you’re a kimchee fan?”

“Nah, not particularly.”

“But that’s a ton of kimchee. Not even Koreans eat that

much in one sitting.”

“Well, I have my reasons,” I said as I cramd so

kimchee into my mouth. More than half of it still remained in

my bowl. “Not very interesting ones, but still.”

“Reasons?”

“Try to figure it out yourself first.”

“Huh? Oh, right. . . okay.” Mikoko-chan crossed her arms

and began to contemplate my rationale. Of course, figuring

what circumstances could possibly require my eating an entire

bowl of kimchee wasn’t exactly easy. After just a few

monts of pondering, she let her arms drop back down

apathetically. She really was quick to throw in the towel.

“Oh, yeah, by the way, I had a question for you. I thought

this was a good opportunity to ask you. May I?”

“Uh, sure.”

Wasn’t the phrase “a good opportunity” usually used for

sothing that ca up by chance? As far as I knew, Mikokochan

had co here and sat down in front of of her own

volition.

Or maybe that was beside the point.

She was wearing the sa smile when she posed her

question. “Ikkun, you know how you didn’t co to school

for a while in the beginning of April? Why was that?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 1

“Uh . . .” My chopsticks stopped moving. The bits of kimchee

they held plopped back into the bowl. “Uh, well . . .”

I must have had a troubled look on my face, because

Mikoko-chan was quick to start waving her hands around

frantically and say, “Oh, if it’s hard to talk about it, don’t

worry. I was just wondering, that’s all. It’s like, Unsolved Mysteries

Featuring Mikoko-chan.”

“No, it’s not hard to talk about. It’s a simple story, really.

I was just on a vacation. For about a week.”

“Vacation?” She blinked at like a little forest animal.

Her expressions were also easy to read. It made it easy for

to talk to her—she was a great listener.

“Vacation? Where’d you go?" she asked again.

“Out to so deserted island in the Sea of Japan, kind of

by accident.”

“By accident?”

“Yeah. A big accident. Anyway, that’s how I got myself

into this kimchee-eating situation.”

She scratched her head, which was probably a natural response.

But I am a fundantally lazy person, so I couldn’t

be bothered to explain all the details. Or rather, just how the

hell would I?

“Anyway, just a vacation. Nothing particularly deep.”

“Huh. You don’t say.”

“What did you think it was?”

“Oh, nothing . . .” She blushed a bit. “I just thought maybe,

uh, like you hurt yourself sohow and had an extended

stay at the hospital or sothing.”

How and why such an idea would occur to her was a mystery

to , but then again, for soone to suddenly take a

week off just after entering a university, there weren’t really

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 2

any other plausible explanations that ca to mind. At the

very least, it was a more likely explanation than “I was just on

a vacation.”

“I see. Sort of like a delayed graduation trip.”

“Yeah, sothing like that. I couldn’t get a reservation, so

it ended up eating into April,” I said with a shrug, but of

course the real facts were totally different. The very idea that I

had “graduated from school” was sothing I hadn’t

experienced since elentary school. I’d certainly never been

on a “graduation trip.” But all of the circumstances surrounding

what had happened would have required a pointlessly

long explanation, and it wasn’t exactly the kind of thing

I wanted to talk about at length anyway, so I just went with

her interpretation.

“Hmm . . .” She gave a sort of half-convinced expression.

“So did you go alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Gotcha.” And then, just like that, the cheerful smile was

back. It was as if all confusion had been cleared. It was like she

really didn’t put on any façades. She was so straightforward

with her emotions that I almost envied her.

Well . . .

Not really.

“So, Mikoko-chan . . . Why are you really here?”

“Huh?”

“You have sothing to say, I assu? I an, considering

you ca and sat right here when there’s a whole roomful

of empty chairs.”

“Huh.” She narrowed her eyes and lowered her gaze a bit,

down to my chest. “So I can’t sit with you unless I’ve got

sothing specific to say to you?”

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“Huh?” This ti it was my turn to scratch my head.

She continued talking in the anti. "I an . . . am I

bothering you? I just saw you when I was walking by, so I

thought maybe we could eat together.”

“Ah, gotcha.”

So she’d just wanted soone to eat with. I was the type

who preferred doing personal things, like eating, alone, but

there were plenty of people who viewed alti and talk

ti as one and the sa. Surely Mikoko-chan was one of

them. But having unexpectedly decided to skip class, she

couldn’t find a friend to eat with, so she went ahead and

struck up a conversation with the first acquaintance she

happened to see—.

“Well, if that’s all it is, it’s fine by ,” I assured her.

“Thanks. That’s a relief. I don’t know what I would’ve

done if you had said no.”

“You don’t?”

“Hm? Yeah. Maybe sothing like this,” she said, pretending

to hold the edges of her tray in both hands. Then she

twisted her wrists in a sudden cracking motion. “Like that.”

“I see . . .” Even if she was just joking, I was a little relieved

I had refrained from saying no. I wouldn’t have put

such a reaction past her, in reality. Soone who expressed

happiness so freely might express anger just as freely.

“Well, I guess I’m free anyway. As long as you just want to

talk,” I said.

"Thanks.”

“So what are we talking about?”

“Oh, umm . . .”

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As I prompted her onward, she began anxiously scraping

her chopsticks together. She was probably trying to think of a

topic.

I may have forgotten who she was, but surely in the past

month it seed like she’d at least managed to grasp the surface

of my personality. So just what kind of topic would she

broach with ? , who was so ignorant, and so lacking in

common sense, that I used to think soccer was baseball played

with your feet? I was strangely interested to find out, as if I

were watching it happen to soone else.

She clapped her hands as if she had suddenly thought of

sothing. “Don’t you think the world’s gone crazy?” she said.

“Huh? In what way?”

“I an . . . er, you know, the prowler. Even you must

know about it.”

Even .

Even —the phrase was pretty enraging. Except that it

happened that I had no idea who the hell “the prowler” was.

“Don’t talk to like I’m an idiot! Of course I know!” An

angry outburst like that would have been fairly justified, but

"Shut up! How the hell am I supposed to know what that is,

stupid?!” just didn’t have the sa ring of validity to it.

“Hm? What’s wrong, Ikkun?” she asked.

“Ah, nothing. What’s ‘the prowler’?”

Obviously I wasn’t looking for the dictionary definition,

one who prowls. She gawked at in amazent.

"You’re kidding, right? Is this a joke? Ikkun, it’s been all

over the news. There’s no way you could have missed this

if you live in Kyoto.”

“There’s no TV in my house, and I don’t get the paper

either.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 5

"What about the Internet?”

“Oh, I don’t have a computer. Don’t really use the ones on

campus much either.”

"Oh my God, Ikkun is a caveman!” she said, sounding almost

impressed in a way. “Is it so sort of ethical policy?”

“Maybe it is, in a sense. How do I put it . . . I don’t like

having possessions.”

“Cooool! You’re like an ancient philosopher! Wow!” She

clapped her hands with joy. I seriously doubted I would have

gotten the sa reaction if she knew it was actually for a

practical—and completely la—reason: My room was just

too small.

I an, newspapers take up a lot of space.

“When you say ‘if you live in Kyoto,’ do you an this

‘prowler’ thing is going on here?”

“Yeah, that’s right. It’s made a pretty big splash. ‘Panic in

the Old Capital!’ So places have even called off field trips.”

“Wow . . . too bad for them.”

“Six people have been murdered! And it’s still going on

right now! With no known suspects!” She had beco all riled

up, and there was a hint of excitent in her voice. “He stabs

them with a knife and then flings their guts all around and

stuff! Freaky, huh?”

“. . .”

Let’s set aside the fact that we were in the middle of

eating. After all, I was partly responsible for the fact that the

conversation had veered in this direction. But what did it say

of this girl that she was able to discuss the murder of others

with such absolute glee?

It’s scary how detached people can beco.

“Six people, huh? Is that a lot?”

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“Yeah it’s a lot! It’s a hell of a lot!” She almost sounded

boastful in a way, as if she were the one doing the killing.

“Maybe not overseas, but serial killings are rare in Japan! It’s

beco quite a sensation, you know.”

“Huh. So that’s why there are patrol cars circling around all

over the place.”

“Yeah. There are people from the mobile police force in

Shinkyôgoku. Makes think of the Gion Festival.” She

chuckled to herself for so reason.

“Wow, go figure. I didn’t know anything about this.”

As I nodded along with her explanation, sohow I knew

Kunagisa would definitely get a kick out of this. Kunagisa, for

those new to my story, is the short version of Kunagisa Tomo,

one of my few friends. That is to say, my only friend. Kunagisa

Tomo was a nineteen-year-old electronic and chanical engineering

professional shut-in of the mysterious variety, with

blue hair and a passionate interest in collecting information on

just these types of incidents.

Unlike , she wasn’t constantly in the dark about what

was going on in the world. In fact, she was essentially an

information-collecting expert, and she was probably already

well aware of this prowler case without my having to say anything

about it. In fact, she was probably already taking action.

“So when did it start?”

“Around the beginning of May, maybe? I think that’s right.

Why?”

“Oh, I was just asking.”

I put the last piece of kimchee in my mouth. My tongue,

or rather the entire inside of my mouth, was completely

mangled. I would probably never take food for granted or say

"this tastes bad” again. If you thought about it, the fact that a

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single bowl of kimchee could so easily destroy all my principles

didn’t say much for my taste buds. Or maybe it was more

of a stomach issue.

“Well, I’m done. See you again soti.” I put down my

chopsticks and began to get up from my seat.

"Ah! Hold on! Hold on, will you?! Where are you going?!”

Mikoko scrambled to stop . “Wait a minute, Ikkun!”

“What do you an, Where am I going’? I’m finished

eating so I figured maybe I’d drop by the bookstore.”

"I’m not done!” I took a look at her tray. Indeed, more than

half of her food was left.

"But I am.”

"Don’t make sad. Stay with till I’m finished.”

“Why should I have to do a pointless thing like that?” . . . is

exactly the kind of thing I’m not tough enough to say. I’m

more of the go-with-the-flow type.

“Okay. I’m free now anyway.” I didn’t have anything

urgent to do, and it wasn’t like I was full yet, either.

I figured I might as well eat so real food while I was

there. “Wait a minute. I’m gonna go buy sothing.”

I approached the register from the opposite direction

(which was against the rules) and took a look at the nu on

the wall, pondering whether I should order the beef bowl.

Geez, it was more expensive than Yoshinoya. Maybe sothing

else was the way to go.

“Kimchee again?” the lady at the counter interrupted

lightheartedly as I was trying to decide.

“Yes.”

Oops.

I had up and said it.

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“No use crying over spilt milk.” Or wait, was this more of a

“hindsight-is-always-twenty-twenty situation”?

A few dozen seconds later, I received another heaping

bowl of kimchee (this ti the lunch lady gave a little

extra) and sat back down in front of Mikoko-chan.

"What the hell? Am I supposed to be following along with

sothing here?” she said.

“Don’t worry about it. So what were we talking about?”

“Hm? Uh, what was it? I forgot."

“Gotcha. Well, then you want to talk about class?”

She shook her head firmly.

“Why? There were so things I didn’t really get in first

period today, so I was thinking maybe we could go over it

together. It’s a required class for freshn, so you must have

gone, right? If you ask , the professor’s inability to explain

things properly is to bla, but what do you think?”

“What do I think?’ I think that there isn’t a boy alive who

brings up sothing like this to a girl when there isn’t even a

test coming up!”

I was only kidding, but she seed seriously put off by it.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like studying?”

“Nobody likes studying.”

“That sounds debatable to . But if you hate studying,

why did you go to college?”

“Ah, that’s a forbidden question. If you ask that, it’s all

over. I an . . . everyone’s like that, right?”

It seed I had inadvertently touched a soft spot, and she

suddenly seed a bit lancholy. Co to think of it, it

seed to that soone had once said Japanese universities

weren’t a place for people who wanted to study, and

that college was just a ti to prepare for entering society.

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“Heh, that’s one way to put it.”

“Do you like studying?” she said.

I shrugged.

Of course not.

In fact, I hated it.

“But it’s not bad for killing ti. Or as an escape from

reality, rather.”

“Usually studying is the reality.” She gave a heavy sigh.

Then, as if shifting her focus back to her al, she picked at

her salad for a while in silence.

Hmm. Was a plate of spaghetti, a large salad, and a dessert

really a normal-size portion for a girl under the age of twenty?

I didn’t know anybody fit to use as a standard for comparison—everyone

I knew was either incredibly finicky, ridiculously

gluttonous, or always fasting or sothing—so I had no

standards for judgnt. But seeing as Mikoko-chan was neither

too slim nor the opposite, perhaps it was, at the very

least, an appropriate portion for her.

“Umm, it’s hard to eat with you staring at like that,”

she said.

"Oh, sorry.”

"S’okay.”

She resud eating. When she was nearly done, she began

looking my way in a sort of probing fashion. Really, she had

been peeping up at every so often the whole ti, but

now she had suddenly beco obvious about it, making eyes

at like there was sothing she wanted to tell .

And indeed, that proved to be an accurate speculation.

As if she had at last made up her mind about sothing,

she placed her chopsticks down without finishing her dessert.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 0

She gave a bit of a playful smile as she leaned her body

forward, bringing her face close to mine.

"So, Ikkun,” she said.

“Yeah . . . ?"

“The truth is, I may or may not have a favor to ask you.”

"You don’t.”

“I do.” She leaned back again in her seat. “Are you the kind

of guy who might be free tomorrow?”

“If you define free as not having any plans, then I sup-pose

I’m more apt to say yes than no.”

“Yeah, kind of hard to follow you.”

“That’s just how I am,” I responded as I chewed my kimchee.

“To put it more simply—I’m a free dude.”

“Really? You’re free? Oh, good!” She pressed her hands

together in front of her chest with a look of true joy. To cause

soone such teary-eyed happiness just by not having plans

on a Saturday seed a bit much.

More important, this didn’t look good. I had the distinct

feeling I was about to get dragged into sothing.

“I see, I see, so if I’m free, sothing good happens to you,

huh? One hand washes the other. It’s also kind of like the

food chain. A magnificent circuit, if you will,” I said.

She wasn’t even listening. "Yeah. So anyway, if you’re free

tomorrow, I was hoping we could get together!”

Her hands still pressed together, she tilted them to the side

a bit as if to emphasize her request. It was such an earnest,

imploring pose that it almost felt like foul play. There was

scarcely a male life-form alive that wouldn’t have surrendered

to it. They would want to surrender.

Nevertheless, I refused without rcy.

“No,” I said.

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“Wha?! Why?!” she shrieked. “You’re free, right?”

“Well, yeah. But it’s like I said, I don’t dislike boredom.

Sotis people like to just spend the day doing nothing,

right? Everyone feels like that sotis. Everyone wants to

escape the hustle and bustle of the world sotis, to free

themselves of the hassle of dealing with other people.

Everybody has a right to ti to contemplate their own lives.

I just happen to have more.”

“But-but-but! How can you just refuse without even

hearing out?! That’s crazy! It’s like a bunch of eighth

graders forming a band, but they all end up playing bass!”

It was a pretty great analogy.

On close inspection, it was apparent that she was about to

cry. That is to say tears were already brimming in the corners

of her eyes. This was not a desirable situation.

I looked around. It was about ti for the dining hall to

start filling up, and students began trickling in, their numbers

gradually increasing. At this point, I wanted to avoid standing

out (by, say, making a relatively hot girl cry) as much as possible.

But co on, who cries just from one little rejection?

“Okay, okay, just calm down. I’ll hear you out. Co on,

have so kimchee.”

“Okay,” she said, sniffling.

Doing as suggested, Mikoko-chan placed so kimchee in

her mouth. “Uwa!” she peeped, and then the tears really

started flowing. It seed she wasn’t much for surprises

(which I kind of knew).

“Ahh, hot . . .” she cried out.

“Well, it is kimchee. It wouldn’t be kimchee if it wasn’t

spicy.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 2

They say there’s also sugar-preserved kimchee, but I always

went with spicy, so I had never seen it. I wouldn’t mind if I

never did, either.

“Ohh, you’re terrible. You’re so an. . . . Now, what

were we talking about?”

“That prowling killer?”

“No! We were talking about tomorrow!”

Bam! She slamd her hand on the table. It looked like she

was seriously a little mad now. Maybe I had gone too far, I

reflected.

“Umm, do you know Emoto-san?”

“Whether I know her or not, I don’t rember her.”

“She’s in our core subject classes. Her hair is like this.” She

stuck her fists to the sides of her ears, but even with this

striking pose, “Emoto-san” and her hairstyle remained firmly

beyond the grasp of my imagination.

“She’s a pretty noticeable girl. She’s always wearing shiny

things.”

“Huh. Well, I don’t really look at people much. What’s her

full na?”

“Emoto Tomoe. That’s the tomo from wisdom and the e

from blessing."

Interesting na. Sounded like it could do a headstand and

start running around upside down. It felt like it rang a bell, but

I couldn’t put my finger on it. I didn’t want to just toss out

so answer like, “Oh yeah, yeah, I know that chick. She’s

the one with the contact lenses, right?” There was always the

chance that Mikoko-chan would throw it right back in my

face, like, “I tricked you! There’s nobody like that in our class!

Ahahaha, looks like the pants are on the other leg now! Nyanya-nya!”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 3

And then the egg would be on my face, my fraudulence

exposed. Not that Mikoko-chan would do sothing like that.

“Her nickna is Tomo-chan.”

“That’s not gonna work for .”

“Huh? Why not?”

“No reason. Just my own personal thing.” I shook my head.

“Sorry. I don’t rember at all.”

“Figures,” she said, laughing. “But if you didn’t rember

, I guess it goes without saying that you wouldn’t rember

her. If you did rember her, I’d be a little shocked.”

I didn’t quite follow her reasoning, but as long as my lack

of mory made her avoid feeling terrible, I guessed it wasn’t

totally worthless. Sothing definitely seed off with the

logic there, though.

“Well, okay. How about Atemiya-san? Atemiya Muimisan?

I call her Muimi-chan.”

“Another classmate?”

She nodded. "Then there’s Usami Akiharu-kun. Akiharukun

is a guy, so you must rember him, right?”

“My mory functions in a gender-neutral environnt.”

“But you sure don’t seem like a feminist.”

She let out a big, unintentionally exaggerated sigh. It was

like I had done sothing wrong. But it was my mory’s

fault, right?

“Anyway, so Tomo-chan, Muimi-chan, and Akiharu-kun.

We’re all going out tomorrow night for a little drinking.”

“Huh. What’s the occasion?”

“It’s Tomo-chan’s birthday!” For so reason she seed a

tad boastful. It was hard to deny her adorableness as she sat

there with her hands on her hips, chest stuck out. “May fourteenth!

Happy twentieth!”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 4

If this Tomo-chan was a classmate, that ant she was a

freshman. Maybe she had entered college a year late. Or

maybe she was a returnee like . It didn’t really matter.

“I’m only nineteen, by the way. My birthday’s April twentieth.”

“Huh,” I said.

I didn’t really care.

She continued. “Umm, so anyway, tomorrow’s Tomochan’s

birthday, so we figured we’d throw a really light, casual

kind of party.”

“Huh. Seems like an awfully intimate group for a party.”

“Yeah, well. We all like the rowdy atmosphere thing, but

nobody wanted there to be a ton of people, so what are you

gonna do?”

“Ah. Then four people is pretty appropriate, huh.”

“Huh?” She looked surprised.

“A fifth person would throw off the balance.”

“Huh? What?”

“Well, say hi to everyone for . And happy birthday to

you.”

“It’s not my birthday! Hey, wait, I an don’t just get up

and leave! You don’t know the other half of the story yet!”

“Well, they say knowing is only half the battle,” I said.

“That’s not what that ans!”

She grabbed by the sleeve as I started to leave and

forced to sit back down. But even if the conversation was

only half-over, I could more or less tell what was coming next.

“Okay then. So now you’re going to tell to partake in

this drinking party . . . or birthday party, rather. Right?”

“Gah! Wow, that’s exactly right.” She flung up her hands

in surprise, but this ti it reeked of phoniness. Maybe it

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 5

wasn’t that she didn’t put on any façades; she was just a lousy

actress. “Amazing, it’s like you’ve got ESP or sothing,

Ikkun.”

“Let’s not go there. Not a good subject.” I let out a light

sigh. “How did all this co about? I don’t even know these

people, right?”

“Yeah you do. They’re your classmates.”

Ah, right.

Maybe I had amnesia. I was never good at rembering

people, but lately it had gotten particularly bad. These three

classmates aside, there wasn’t a single person in all of Rokuikan

University whom I had a clear picture of.

But there was a more likely explanation: that it was simply

the result of my apathy toward other human beings. It had

nothing to do with my mind’s functionality. It wasn’t a defect.

It wasn’t that so essential part was missing, either.

It was just that I was, from the very start, a broken thing.

“Could it be that I’ve just forgotten, and that I’m actually

good friends with these three people? Even I wouldn’t forget

sothing like who my friends are, I think.”

Mikoko-chan’s expression grew a little sad. “I don’t think

that’s the case,” she said. "You probably haven’t spoken much.

I an, you’ve always got this narrow-eyed scowl as if you’re

thinking really hard about sothing or filled with contempt.

Even now. It makes you kind of hard to approach. It’s like

you’ve got a wall in front of you. Or your AT field is fully

operational. And in spite of all that, you always sit directly in

the middle of the classroom.”

I wanted her to leave the hell alone. I wanted to tell

her not to bother talking to if that was how she felt. But I

didn’t.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 6

I finished my kimchee. As it turned out, two bowls ended

up being pretty excessive, and I felt dreadful fullness in my

stomach. I probably wouldn’t be having kimchee again for a

long ti.

“But you and I are friends, right?” she asked.

“Are we?”

"Yes!” She slamd both hands on the table again. It

seed she had a habit of hitting nearby things when she got

emotional. I’d have to rember to stay out of range of those

slender arms if I was going to make fun of her. That is to say,

I’d have to stay out of range when I made fun of her. Maybe it

was better to pick on her over the phone.

Er, I an, why was I planning ways to harass her?

“And, so, naturally, I tell my friends about you sotis,

right?”

“I guess.”

"And then my friends think, ‘Man, for a guy who’s always

got such a crummy face, he seems kind of cool,’ right?”

“I guess it’s possible.”

“So it’s not so strange that they would want to try being

friends with soone who seems kind of cool, even if he is a

weirdo. Right?”

“Yeah, I guess we all have temptations.”

“So that’s what I’m saying,” she said.

“What is?”

“That.”

She peered up at with eager, expectant eyes. I pretended

I was drinking tea in order to escape her gaze. But a single

cup of tea sure wasn’t going to be enough to revive my

paralyzed mouth.

"Huh. I understand,” I said.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 7

“You do?”

“It’s a good opportunity and all, so I think I’ll go spend the

night at my parents’ place tomorrow.”

“Don’t make plans’ You didn’t even go ho during

Golden Week!”

She slamd the table again. I was a little disturbed that

she knew what I had been doing during Golden Week, but

then again, maybe I had told her and forgotten.

“But you know . . . it’s almost Mother’s Day and stuff.”

“That was last week! And besides, you’re not the kind of

guy who would go out of his way to show devotion to his

parents!”

That was rather harsh. And even if she was right, did she

believe that a seventeen-year-old guy who wouldn’t even go

out of his way for his parents would be any nicer to soone

who was just a classmate? Maybe she was so worked up she

didn’t realize what she was saying anymore.

“Co on, I’m begging you. I already told them I’d bring

you. I’ll lose face.”

“It seems like there’s a misunderstanding here, so let

clear things up—I’m not the kind of guy you can have fun

talking to. They say I’ve got about as much pep as a storm

cloud.”

“Wow, that’s as disappointing as hearing about two budding

young authors, only one’s poison ivy and the other got

eaten by tent caterpillars." She looked a little somber as she

chewed her lip. “Co on, Ikkun. Do it as a favor to . I

know it’s selfish of , but hey, I’ll even pay for drinks.”

“Sorry, I’m not a drinker.”

This was true.

“Why not?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 8

“I once drank a whole bottle of vodka in one go.” I didn’t

dare tell her how things ended up after that, but at any rate,

ever since then I had sworn off alcohol. I may not be such a

smart guy, but I’m not so dumb that I don’t learn from my

experiences either.

“Wow, not even the Russians do that.” She was truly surprised.

“I see. . . . So you can’t drink. Hm, now what?”

She imrsed herself in thought once again. It seed she

had a firm understanding of what it was like for a non-drinker

to show up at a drinking party. Perhaps she was a lightweight

herself at least to so extent.

Nevertheless . . .

I wasn’t so cold-blooded that I felt nothing for this girl sitting

before , looking so deeply troubled.

Dammit . . . I get dragged into things so easily. Going along

with sothing out of pity was one thing. But getting dragged

in just because the situation presented itself was totally la.

“Okay, okay. As long as you’re okay with just sitting in

the middle of the room scowling.”

“Hmm, I guess that would be an awful bother for you, but

you know, I think . . . Wait, you an you’ll go?” she said.

She shot her body forward. Maybe it’s a rude analogy, but

she was like a dog who had just had food tossed in front of it.

A cat would have approached it with so caution, suspecting

the possibility of a trap, but Mikoko-chan was completely unguarded.

She may have physically resembled a cat, but she

was definitely more like a dog in personality.

“Is it really okay? Will you really co?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m free anyway.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 9

Even I was a little appalled by my own bluntness and

wondered if I couldn’t have put it a little more nicely. All the

sa, she shrieked with joy.

“Waaah! Thank you!” She smiled innocently.

I replied by downing the rest of my tea. At so point she

had finished her dessert as well, so it was ti I really should

start to leave.

“Ah, wait a sec. Let know your phone number. I’ll call

you.”

“Hm? Ah . . .” I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket.

“Okay, it’s . . . uh, I forgot.”

“Figures. Okay, then I’ll give you mine, so dial .”

I entered her number as told and sent it. A ringtone

erged from her little bag. David Bowie. She had surprisingly

great taste.

“Okay, got it. Hey, Ikkun, your phone doesn’t have a

strap.”

“Ah, yeah. I don’t like that girly stuff.”

“Are straps girly?”

“Well, I’m no expert or anything, but they’re definitely not

very manly.”

“Mmm, guess not,” she said with consternation.

“Well then,” I said, stepping away from my seat with my

tray. “See you tomorrow, Mikoko-chan.”

“Yep! Don’t you forget about again!”

She gave a big wave, to which I responded with a small

one as I made my way out of the dining hall. After returning

my tray and silverware, I headed straight to the co-op bookstore.

Of course, being a university bookstore, its main selection

consisted of academic texts, and its recreational reading

selection was fairly limited. But on the plus side there was a

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 3 0

10 percent discount on everything, and for so reason (I

wonder why) this particular bookstore had an unusually large

selection of magazines, so it got fairly crowded.

I made my way to the novels section and picked one out.

Wait. Huh? Sothing had occurred to .

"Wait a minute. Did Mikoko-chan call ‘Ikkun’?”

Now that I looked back on our encounter, that nickna

she used seed to stand out. I hadn’t even noticed when

she’d used the nickna—but I didn’t think anyone had ever

addressed with such an overly familiar nickna in the

past. I thought about it for a mont, but I couldn’t rember.

I had no specific mory of her calling that before,

but then again, I didn’t rember her not calling that,

either. After all, I hardly have any mory of Mikoko-chan

herself, much less a trivial thing like what na she called .

“Eh, whatever.”

Either way was fine by . Satisfied with that notion, I

began reading the novel inside the store.

Yup.

No big deal.

Hardly a life or death situation.

All was well with the world.

Even if Heaven was empty.

What is a fatal wound?

Cutting off soone’s head.

Yeah, obviously that’s one.

Crushing soone’s heart.

Again, obvious.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 3 1

Destroying soone’s brain.

Naturally.

Stopping their breathing.

That’s another good thod. Pretty final, too.

But when I say "fatal wound,” I’m not referring to these

trivial sorts of things.

I’m thinking of sothing else. A fatal wound is an impact

so intense, so devastating, that you fall into a state where

you’re no longer a human—even though you are. You’re no

longer able to lead a life even though you’re living. It ans

being ground to bits after falling victim to a relative paradox

created by reason itself.

That is a fatal wound.

In other words, failure.

The key here is the fact that even after a profound failure,

we go on.

The world is brutally tepid.

It’s so kind that it’s cruel. It’s a devil’s Heaven.

To put it plainly, you don’t die by making a big mistake.

Or maybe I should say you can’t die.

Yeah, you don’t die.

You just suffer.

You simply suffer in agony.

And you go on. Forever, wherever.

aninglessly, you just go on.

Life isn’t a video ga, not because there’s no reset button,

but because there’s no Ga Over. Even though it was

"over” long ago, tomorrow shows up anyway. Even when night

falls, morning cos again after it. When winter ends, spring

rolls in. Life is wonderful.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 3 2

It’s an absolute paradox—even though you’ve taken a fatal

blow, you can’t die. It’s like asking what a person sees when

he looks backward while traveling faster than the speed of

light. An unthinkable question.

Even though the potential to be you has long since been

cut off, you go on. You do it all over, again and again. You

redo your life again and again.

But it’s like making a million crappy copies, and each ti

you make one, your “self” gets a little bit shoddier.

And eventually you get to thinking . . .

Am I really , or . . .

. . . did I beco sothing else

long ago?

Have I devolved?

Just as the central figure in an incident can’t all of a sudden

beco just a disinterested bystander, you can’t beco your

own spectator.

And that, my friends, is what’s truly fatal.

“In other words, it’s like mind over matter . . .” I muttered.

As I pondered these fruitless ponderings, I was trying the new

McDonald’s burger. The five hundred twenty-five yen value

combo.

The kimchee must have worked, because my sense of taste

had returned to normal. A McDonald’s hamburger tasted

pretty luscious again. After all, as a Japanese person, there was

no way I could have gone on with my life if unable to enjoy

McDonald’s.

The ti was 7:30 in the evening.

The place: Shijôkawara-machi, Shinkyôgoku Street.

After fifth period had ended, I decided I wanted to see

those mobile police Mikoko-chan was talking about for

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 3 3

myself, and my feet had taken this far in an effort to kill

ti.

Next to the tray with the hamburger on it was a single

magazine. What they call a “weekly infozine.” I had bought it

at the co-op, and on the cover it said, “Feature Story: Jack the

Ripper Resurrected in the Devil’s City!”

“Pretty tasteless.”

The ridiculously apocalyptic feel of the magazine was

actually the second reason I had bought it. The first was that it

featured a big story on the “prowler” incidents Mikoko-chan

had been telling about.

I shoved two fries in my mouth, added a straw as well, and

sucked down so cola. I started flipping through the weekly.

The first page was set with an all too vivid picture of a corpse

as the background, and in big, Gothic letters, it read: “The

Homicidal Monster Who Shook Kyoto!”

Ominous indeed.

“So they let you show photos like this . . .” I muttered as I

flipped through the pages. I had already scanned through the

details of the articles, so I at least knew sothing about the

incidents now, if not everything.

The dia had dubbed the cri spree the “Kyoto Prowler

Serial Killings.” Not the most imaginative na in the world,

but then again, maybe a case like this didn’t need one. Still,

the word prowler hardly seed to be an accurate description

of the criminal. I always thought of as a prowler as a sort of

stalker, soone who stalks people on the street and causes

them harm. But in this case the culprit was luring the victims

into desolate areas, killing them with a sharp blade, and finally

dismbering the corpses. It seed like maybe “serial killer”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 3 4

was a better description than prowler. And you could definitely

make an analogy with the Jack the Ripper murders.

“Six people now, huh? Not bad,” I muttered as I stuffed

the magazine back into my bag.

Yeah, six people. Just as Mikoko-chan had said, six people

in less than two weeks’ ti was quite a death toll. It was

probably unprecedented. By the third murder, the police force

had been dispatched all over the region for surveillance. Even

the riot police had been dispatched, and yet the murders went

on, as if the killer were laughing at them.

The victims had no apparent connections. They were

young and old, male and female: The killer showed no rcy

to anyone. The police (and everyone else, for that matter) had

deed these incidents rely a series of acts of random

violence.

Therefore the sixth victim probably wouldn’t be the last.

The killings would go on. As long as this monster remained on

the loose—or until he decided to stop of his own volition—

there would be more murders. Perhaps even tonight. Perhaps

even right now.

“It’s all nonsense in the end, huh?” I stared out at Shinkyô-

goku Street from the entrance of McDonald’s.

It was the sa scenery as always. Fewer tourists and students

on field trips, but it was still pretty crowded—a lot of

kids with dyed hair were milling around. I suppose you could

say that this was when they ca out to mark their territory.

Nobody, absolutely nobody walking along this street right

now was seriously considering the notion that they could be

the next victim.

Of course, everyone was still being a little cautious. So

were visibly unsettled by the mobile police units scattered

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 3 5

here and there. “What a ss,” they might think, but that

about covers it. At most, they would go ho a little earlier

than usual.

But deep in their hearts, everyone believed they would be

going ho.

That’s how it is with these things. There are very few

people who can accept as a hard reality the possibility that

they might be the next to die.

It was true that the probability of becoming the next

victim was negligibly low: “Those victims must’ve had been

really unlucky.” A terrible thought, but what else could

people think?

Anyway . . . perhaps I should go ahead and mingle in with

this unguarded crowd? With that in mind, I got up from my

seat only to feel my phone vibrating in my right pocket. I

wasn’t familiar with the number on the display. But I didn’t

want to just ignore it. I went ahead and pushed send.

“Ciao! Mikoko-chan here!”

Hyper from the get-go. It was easy to imagine her giving

the thumbs-up on the other end, even though I guess she

probably wasn’t actually doing that. But without even knowing

who she was talking to, she was so bubbly and friendly.

What would she have done if this was the wrong number? A

small fire ignited in my inquiring mind.

“Eh? Hey, it’s Mikoko-chan. What’s wrong?”

I didn’t reply.

"Uhh . . . This is Ikkun, right?”

Again, I was silent.

“Hellooo? This is Ikkun, right?”

I persisted in not replying.

“Did I ss up? Huh? I ssed up!”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 3 6

I kept up the silent treatnt.

“Gahhh! It’s like getting all prepped for the next radio

calisthenics session—you know, that exercise show broadcast

over the radio—only to have them go ‘We’re outta ti, so

just do the chicken dance’! I’m sorry, I dialed the wrong

number!”

At that, I finally said sothing: “No, this is right. What’s

up?”

“Uwa!” she shrieked in surprise when I spoke. “Huh?

Wha?” she sputtered, confused. Eventually, she let out a sigh,

so I figured she had cald down a bit. I also figured that it

was only a matter of seconds before her relief turned to anger.

"For crying out loud! It’s the phone! You have to say sothing!

I’ll freak out if you don’t! Ikkun, you jerk! You snake!

You . . . you monster!”

I didn’t think I’d done anything that bad.

"Sorry, sorry, I was just kidding around.”

I hadn’t ant to stay quiet for so long, but I also had

never expected she’d provide such a hilarious response either.

Before I knew it, my timing had been thrown off.

“God . . . It’s fine, I guess. Since it’s you and all.”

She let out a moan. It was hard not to feel a little sorry for

her. “Umm,” she started again, back to her normal self. “This

is a business call! Regarding tomorrow’s business!”

“You know, you don’t have to yell. It’s quiet here.”

“Hm? Where are you now?" she asked.

“Ah, uh, I’m at ho. At the boarding lodge.”

“Oh. I’m still at school. I had to talk to Inokawa-sensei

about sothing, so I just got out of the research room. Isn’t

that place incredible?! Books everywhere!”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 3 7

Inokawa-sensei led the general-education class. A slightly

eccentric assistant professor, he was popular enough with his

students if you were willing to set aside the fact that he was

way too strict about punctuality. (If you weren’t in your seat

by the ti the bell started ringing—even if you were in the

classroom and were in the act of sitting down while it was

ringing—he marked you absent).

“Umm, right, so about tomorrow. Will you be ho tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Are we eting sowhere?” I asked.

“Uh-uh. If we set a eting place, we might miss each other,

right? That’s no good, so I’ll co et you at your boarding

lodge. I bought a scooter and I kinda wanna take it for a spin.

So, let’s say four o’clock. Can I go to your place at four?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, but . . . you know where the boarding

lodge is?”

“Huh? Oh, no problem there.” She seed flustered. “I

an, because we made that address list when classes first

started, so I know it.”

“Is just the address enough?”

"I know Kyoto well, so we’re a-okay. You’re at Senbon

Nakadachiuri, right?”

“Huh?” I asked. There was sothing suspicious about the

way she was acting, but if she said she knew it, I figured there

was no problem.

“Fine by ,” I replied.

“Okay. That settles that, then. Hmm, I’d like to talk more

since I went to the trouble of calling, but I’ve got to go to

driving school from here. I made an appointnt, and if I

don’t go now I’ll be late.”

“Huh. You’re going to driving school.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 3 8

“Yep. How about you? Got a license?”

“I do. Just for automatic, though.”

If it wasn’t such a big hassle to get a license, I could

actually drive anything, but that was a secret.

“I see,” she said. “I’m going for a manual. I’m reaching that

age where I want my own set of wheels, you know? My dad

said he’ll get a car once I get my license. Yup. Anyway, see

ya tomorrow. B-b-b-byeee!”

She giggled and hung up. I stared at the phone for a while

before putting it back in my pants pocket.

Right. We did have plans tomorrow, didn’t we? It hadn’t

completely slipped my mind, but it was close enough. At this

rate, I might forget again by tomorrow. Maybe it would have

been best to write “Plans with Mikoko-chan tomorrow” on the

palm of my hand, like an unusually dim-witted elentary

school student.

Oh, but if she was coming to et at my house, it

didn’t really matter if I rembered or not, I thought. I was

just going to be there all day anyway. I returned my pen case

to my bag.

This ti I really did actually walk out of the McDonald’s.

It was already almost eight o’clock, and the shops outside

were preparing to close. Suddenly sothing occurred to .

“Ah, that’s right. It’s a birthday thing.”

In that case, I should probably take the opportunity to buy

a present while I was out and about. It was only common

sense—not that I ever thought of myself as soone with a lot

of common sense.

Then again, I’d been sort of half-forced into going. Maybe I

didn’t have to go out of my way to be a good guy or anything.

As I thought it over, I peeped into a nearby souvenir shop.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 3 9

Emoto Tomoe. Now, what kind of a character was she? I

didn’t have a single mory of her. Once I actually saw her

face, I might rember her. But no matter how hard I

thought about it, I couldn’t rember a single thing about

her. Which ant she probably wasn’t a particularly eccentric

or remarkable person. Maybe she was a little more subdued

than most. The kind of person who reads a book before the

start of class instead of ssing with her cell phone.

Wait . . . but hadn’t Mikoko-chan said she was a striking

girl who always wore shiny things? Huh. I had no idea after

all. Not even a vague image.

Then there were those other two: Atemiya Muimi-chan

and Usami Akiharu-kun, right? I tried to recall them as well,

but with no success.

“Eh, I guess if they’re Mikoko-chan’s friends, they can’t be

all that weird.”

“Tell what company thou keepst, and I’ll tell thee what

thou art.” Cervantes said it, but surely you could’ve switched

it around and it would still make sense. Nothing to worry

about too much.

As my mind wandered, I picked up a box of snacks from a

display. They were yatsuhashi cinnamon cookies folded into

triangles and stuffed with red bean paste. A wholly

conventional Japanese snack. Thirty pieces, one thousand two

hundred yen.

"Hm . . .”

Kyoto and yatsuhashi—a confection made from rice flour,

cinnamon, and sugar—were synonymous with each other. If

there were no yatsuhashi, it wasn’t Kyoto, which ant that if

there were yatsuhashi, it was. Compared to yatsuhashi,

Kiyomizu Temple, the Daimonji Fire Festival, and the Big

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 4 0

Three festivals didn’t even matter. Shrines and Buddhist

temples were irrelevant. If you didn’t eat yatsuhashi, you

didn’t know 80% of Kyoto.

Okay, then, I thought.

And so it was settled that Tomo-chan would receive snack

food for her birthday. I didn’t want to burden her with

sothing nondisposable, and I figured it would be the perfect

thing to eat while drinking. Or wait, did sweet stuff go

with alcohol? I didn’t drink, so I didn’t know. At any rate, it

wasn’t like they would be inedible.

And then my back shivered.

It felt as though liquid nitrogen had been poured into my

spinal cord. As if my entire body had been frozen to absolute

zero and the heat of the outside air was about to scorch .

Only a basic level of brain functionality remained. And then I

felt an intense pressure crushing . If I couldn’t maintain my

composure, surely I would be pulverized.

But I didn’t look back. I just tried to collect myself as

coolly as possible, and thrust the box of yatsuhashi at the store

clerk. The clerk had a brown earring, a brown ponytail, and a

smile that wasn’t very professional.

"Welco, now.” The clerk wrapped up the treats for ,

which I accepted as I fished for the exact change. “Please

co again there, now,” the clerk said cheerfully with a little

head bob. Surely it was this kind of heartfelt service that captured

the hearts of tourists, I thought, a little irrelevantly, as I

left the store and began on my way to Shijô Street.

And then I felt it. A gaze so intense it couldn’t be ignored

once detected, a gaze so ferocious there was no way not to be

aware of it. No, this was more than a gaze.

This was the intent to murder.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 4 1

It was a 100 percent pure murderous desire. Nothing—not

one of a million emotions; not animosity, aggression, or a

sense of mischief—diluted the purity of this desire. My entire

body ached with a terrible feeling. This feeling was long past

the point of unpleasant or unsettling.

I walked.

The feeling followed .

I walked so more.

The feeling still followed.

“In other words, I’m being followed,” I muttered to myself.

Since when? From where?

I had no idea.

It was so blatant that I didn’t even need to look back.

It was so blatant that I didn’t even need to sense it.

That ant that whoever it was had surely noticed that I

had noticed. The fact that they continued to tail anyway

was the most blatant thing of all.

“This ain’t good,” I sighed as I weaved my way through the

crowd. It was strange. I really thought I’d left all danger

behind . . . back on that island on the other side of the sea.

Being tracked all the way to this country, to this city, no less,

seed unthinkable, much less being killed. I had already

employed Kunagisa’s skills to confirm that.

In which case . . .

This was a random act.

The first thing that ca to mind was the feature story

from the magazine in my bag.

The slasher.

“Aw, hell no,” I said to myself. What cruel fate had

brought to this pass? If I were to put it like Mikoko-chan, I

might have said sothing like, “It’s like forming a second

Onyanko Club, but everyone’s a backup dancer.” On second

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 4 2

thought, I have no idea what that ans. I guess you

shouldn’t try to be sothing you’re not, I thought. Clearly I

was panicking.

But even supposing the person one thousand feet behind

right now was the famous prowler, or even supposing it

was just your run-of-the-mill psycho killer, or even supposing

that it was soone with a grudge against . . .

Sothing was off. This just didn’t make sense. It was unfathomable

and absurd.

What I felt was uneasiness. Yes, like the uneasiness you

feel when you notice that reflection in the mirror is looking

back at you, that kind of absolutely mistaken textbook

explanation. I had now confird that that red line that’s

usually in front was, suddenly, behind.

“More nonsense?” Of course this was an illusion.

What mattered right now was that soone was following

. This much was certain. That and, soti soon, I would

be killed. This much was also certain. With these two

essentially definite facts in mind right now, I had no leeway to

be distracted by any other sensations. Ultimately, my options

were limited.

Give, or take.

“Ahhh, this is becoming a freaking hassle,” I muttered.

I made my way from Shinkyôgoku Street onto Shijô Street.

On the other side of a cluster of cabs was a long line of cars.

Shijô Street was extrely congested at this ti of day, to

the point that it was actually faster to walk than to drive. In a

town like Kyoto, which had so many traffic lights it wasn’t

even funny, a bicycle was by far the number one most

effective way to get around.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 4 3

Number two, incidentally, was by foot. Maybe number

three was a boogie board.

I had co to school by bus, so number two was my only

option. I debated for only an instant about which way to go

before heading east.

After a pause at a red light, I crossed Kawara-machi Street.

If I kept straight on this road, it would take to Yasaka

Shrine. From there, if I broke south, I would reach Kiyomizu

Temple. It was a textbook route for the Kyoto temple sightseer.

But I was no sightseer, and I had no intention of going as

far as Yasaka Shrine.

I was on pins and needles. I felt that high-pressure gaze

edging ever closer. And if it ever caught up to , that pressure

would erupt into plain, simple violence.

“Ah . . . this is gonna be close." May already and here I was

in a cold sweat. Just how long had it been since I had been this

nervous? Surely not since I’d left that odd little island. Yet at

the sa ti, what I felt now was sohow distinctly

different from what I had felt back then.

I am nervous, therefore I am at peace.

I beca aware that, for in this nervous state, failure

was sothing wholly improbable.

“Phew . . .”

And so I arrived at Kamo River. Instead of crossing the big

Shijô Bridge, I made my way down the staircase beside it and

erged on the riverbank. Whenever the sun ca out,

countless young couples would start crowding the riverbank.

In my personal opinion, this riverbank, lined with perfectly

spaced out boy-girl pairs, was one of the top three must-see

attractions of Kyoto. When the moon was out, the riverbank

offered itself as an after-bender hangout for drunks. After

drinking the night away, they could co here to sleep it off.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 4 4

The drunks ranged from college students all the way up to

salaryn.

The drunks and lovers had one thing in common: They

were both complete nuisances who went around shoving their

happiness in other people’s faces. But there was no ti to

wax philosophical about. No matter what I thought about the

drunks and young lovers, only one thing mattered right now.

It happened to be that one brief mont of the day when the

riverbank was empty. The lovers had already gone ho, and

the drunks were still getting drunk.

In other words, it was a perfect situation.

And being underneath a bridge made it even better, right?

I entered the shadow of the bridge as soon as I had

descended to the riverbank. The sounds of passing cars rushed

overhead. The chatter of people crossing the bridge. It was

one hell of a ruckus. But it wasn’t enough to cover this guy’s

footsteps.

Shuffle.

The sound of scraping grit.

I muttered sothing and turned around.

He made an incoherent noise as he faced .

My feelings at that point were probably pure and simple

confusion. Ordinary, everyday confusion and nothing more.

There was a mirror in front of .

Or so I thought.

His height was a bit under five feet, and he was longlimbed

and slender as a flower stem. He wore tiger-striped

shorts; nonskid rustic boots; a red, long-sleeved, hooded parka;

and a black tactical vest. Both hands were clad with gloves,

but they obviously weren’t for sothing as cowardly as covering

his fingerprints, as they were fingerless gloves. It was my

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 4 5

guess that they served a much more sinister purpose—to stop

the knife from slipping on sweat.

His long hair was tied up in the back and buzzed on the

sides as if he were a dancer. His right ear had a triple piercing,

and two straps that looked like they belonged on a cell phone

dangled from his left ear. His stylish sunglasses rendered his

expression unreadable, but the sinister-looking, obviously real

tattoo running down the right side of his face communicated

this person’s eccentricity loud and clear.

He was unlike in almost every conceivable way. Our

similarities ended with age and gender.

And yet I felt like I was looking into a mirror.

So naturally I was confused.

And my new friend appeared to be just as confused.

Still, he made the first move. He inserted his right hand

into a pocket of the vest, and an instant later he was

brandishing a small, five-centiter-wide knife. He made not

a single wasted motion. It was as if he had surpassed the limits

of the rely human. Light and sound seed distorted

around him.

Even supposing I had been observing all this from the point

of view of an uninvolved bystander, even knowing that this

was a murderer, his technique was so perfect that I could’ve

only described it as artful.

There was no escaping it. There was no accepting it.

But I managed to dodge the knife by pulling my upper

body back. Of course, normally this would be impossible. I

wouldn’t say I’m any less athletic than average, but I’m

certainly no Mary Lou Retton either. I had neither the quick

eye nor agile body needed to elude a plausible contender for

the title of the world’s fastest knife fighter.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 4 6

However, supposing a dump truck was coming straight at

you at a hundred miles an hour, but you beca aware of this

when it was a few miles away, I think we can all agree that

dodging it would be a simple task.

Likewise, I’d been anticipating my assailant’s slash attack.

It was so obvious that it was coming that it was if I had been

expecting it for the past five years.

I groped wildly for my bag, then swung it around, hoping

to smash him in the face. But with no more than a simple

motion of the neck, he managed to dodge my attack as if he

had been expecting it for ten years.

Because I had strained to dodge his attack, I tumbled

backward. Of course, I didn’t do anything as foolish as try to

roll back to my feet. Even a single arm wasted on such a

maneuver would surely have created a pri opportunity for

the killer. Just as I feared, he wheeled back from his initial

miss and ca straight for my carotid artery. Not good. There

was no way to dodge from this position. I guess I could have

theoretically perford a stupid-looking roll and dodge this

one attack. But the next mont, or the mont after that,

regardless of how pathetically I scrambled around on the

ground, he would plunge that knife into my spine. I could

imagine it so clearly that I felt like a certain clairvoyant I once

knew.

In which case, dodging was beside the point. The key was

simply taking it. I swung my right elbow up at the knife.

My opponent twisted his wrist, altering the direction of his

swing. Consequently, the excess montum from my elbow

had swinging at nothing. This left my entire front side,

including all of my organs, not least notable of which were the

heart and lungs, completely exposed to the enemy.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 4 7

Behind the sunglasses, his eyes seed to smile ever so

faintly.

With another twist of the knife, he aid it directly at my

heart.

A mont’s pause.

And then the tactical knife swung down at double speed.

So strong was his will to destroy human life that it made his

body move at speeds that couldn’t be detected by the human

eye.

He left not even ti enough to gasp. That’s right: I

didn’t even have ti to gasp.

But I had known this one had been coming before I’d even

been born.

!

!

The knife tore through a single layer of my clothing and

stopped. My left index and middle fingers had stopped it—by

pushing up my assailant’s sunglasses.

A stalemate.

He had my heart and I had his eyes. If you put the two on

a scale, their weights obviously differed, but this was no

matter to be weighed on a scale. For my opponent, tearing

through my flesh and bone to demolish my heart was simpler

than taking candy from a baby. But it would leave just enough

ti for to pulverize his eyeballs.

The opposite was also true.

I could sacrifice my own heart to destroy his eyeballs, and

he could sacrifice his eyes to obliterate my heart. Hence, a

stalemate.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 4 8

We stayed that way for as long as five hours, or maybe it

was five seconds, and then: "This is a masterpiece,” he said,

tossing his knife aside.

“It’s nonsense is what it is.” I retracted my fingers.

He backed away from , and I rose to my feet slowly,

shaking the grit off my clothes and slowly straightening out

my posture.

Our fight had been a farce—but it had gone so harmoniously,

it was as if it had all been predestined. I felt overco

by an incredible faintness.

“I’m Zerozaki,” my opponent said as he straightened his

crooked glasses. “Zerozaki Hitoshiki. So who the hell are you,

Mr. Doppelgänger?”

The question left a sour taste in my mouth. It was like

seeing myself asking soone else for my own na.

And that—that was the first encounter between the passive

onlooker and the homicidal monster.

Strangely enough, it was Friday the thirteenth.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 5 0

Misfortune and misery are underplayed.

Give more despair. Give more darkness.

Give wholehearted depravity.

The thirteenth of any given month, by the way, is more likely

to fall on a Friday than any other day. Friday the thirteenth

occurs once a year at least, and three or four tis a year on

average. But for a guy like who wasn’t Christian—I don’t

even understand the difference between Catholic and

Protestant—Friday the thirteenth ant little more than that

the next day was Saturday the fourteenth.

Now, then. The next day was Saturday, May fourteenth. I

awoke inside my one-room Senbon Nakadachiuri apartnt.

I looked at my clock to discover that it was about ten until

four p.m.

“Seriously?”

I was a bit . . . that is, fairly—nay, insanely—surprised. This

was a whole new oversleeping record for . How many years

had it been since the last ti I slept until the afternoon? And

it wasn’t only the afternoon—the p.m. was a third over

already. This would probably remain as a stain on my mory

for the rest of eternity.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 5 1

“But then again, I want to bed at nine in the morning, so

it’s only natural.”

Finally shaking away the sleepiness, I returned to my sense

and rose from my bed.

The room had four straw mats of floor space and a naked

lightbulb. This little pocket of space was unbelievably classic,

and so full of anachronisms that it made you wonder if it had

been around since the olden days when Kyoto was still our

capital. Naturally, the rent was deathly low. Deathly to the

landlord, that is.

I folded up my futon and stuck it on the closet. There was

no toilet or bath, but there was a washstand of sorts, so I used

it to wash my face, then got dressed. My wardrobe wasn’t

exactly jam-packed with options, so all of this took less than

five minutes.

I opened the window and let in the outside air. Kyoto is an

incredible place, in that once you’ve passed Golden Week,

you’ve already entered sumr. It’s as if life is still being run

according to the old Chinese calendar—or as if fall and spring

don’t even exist.

Then there ca a knock at my door. This apartnt

wasn’t equipped with such modern anities as telephone

intercoms. It was exactly four o’clock. Mikoko-chan was certainly

a punctual one. I was just a little bit dazzled by this.

People who were as anal about ti as Inokawa-sensei were

just annoying, but I figured that if you really wanted to refer

to yourself as a human being, you had to be at least as punctual

as an analog clock. In that sense, Mikoko-chan passed as a

human.

“Yo, I’m coming.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 5 2

I unbolted the lock (now that’s what I call radically retro)

and opened the door. But to my surprise, it wasn’t Mikokochan.

“Sorry.”

It was Asano Miiko-san, my neighbor. She was twenty-two

years old, making her my senior, and she was a seasonal

worker. There was sothing strangely Japanesey about her

style, and even right now she was dressed in classic Japanese

sumr casual wear. It was black cloth, with the word

Carnage printed on the back of her top in white letters, and

she had a distinctly samurai-esque ponytail. At first she

seed unapproachable, but after you talked to her for a bit,

it quickly beca clear that she was a pretty decent human

being. Maybe a little on the mysterious side, but that just

added to her charm.

“Miiko-san . . . right? Good morning.”

“Yeah. Were you sleeping?”

“Yeah, I actually overslept a bit, so . . .”

“If you slept this late, I don’t think it still qualifies as ‘a

bit,’ ” she said drably. With her subdued deanor, it was

often hard to guess what she was thinking. It wasn’t that she

was completely expressionless. Instead, her default expression

was a glare, with changes so subtle that she might as well have

been expressionless.

“Oh, please co in. As usual, there’s not much to see,

though,” I said without a hint of false modesty. I stepped aside

to make way, but she shook her head.

“Nah, I just ca to give you this.” She passed a flat

box. It was wrapped in paper with the word Snacks written in

big letters.

“. . . .”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 5 3

“They’re yatsuhashi. They’re a Kyoto favorite.”

“I know them, but—“

“They’re yours. They’re good, you know. Well, see ya . . .

I’ve got to get to work.”

She spun around, flashing the word Carnage at . The

fact that she had offered no explanation as to why she had just

given a box of yatsuhashi was hardly unexpected. She was

a woman of few words, and when you thought about how

much effort you would have to exert just to fish an answer out

of her, it was easy to justify leaving things unexplained. And

so I send her off with a simple “Thanks very much, I’ll definitely

enjoy them,” and nothing more.

She stopped in her tracks.

“Sounded like you got back just this morning,” she said

without turning around. “So, what’s the story?”

“. . .” Damn these thin-walled apartnts. Actually I suppose

they do have their perks.

“Oh, I was just hanging out with a friend all night. Nothing

shady. Nothing exciting either.”

“A friend, huh? Wouldn’t happen to have been that

colorful blue-haired girl who ca by around February, would

it?”

“Actually, Kunagisa’s an extre shut-in. This was soone

else. A guy.”

She nodded with a look of complete and utter disinterest,

but I wondered if she would’ve perked up a little if I had said

“I was schmoozing with that killer everyone’s been talking

about under the big Shijô Bridge.” Then again, Miiko-san

being the way she was, it was entirely possible that she

wouldn’t have given more than a “huh,” even if she knew I

wasn’t joking.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 5 4

She nodded, seemingly satisfied, and proceeded on her way

down the planked hallway. She was headed to her part-ti

job. When I first discovered those weren’t just her indoor

clothes, even I couldn’t help but vocalize my surprise.

I shut the door and returned to the middle of the room.

But why did it have to be yatsuhashi? Co to think of it,

these were the exact sa yatsuhashi I had picked up the

previous day for Tomo-chan’s birthday. It was a terrifying coincidence,

but there it was.

“Well, whatever.”

I stacked the two boxes and stuck them in the corner of

the room.

Looking at the clock, I discovered is was several minutes

past four.

Thirty minutes later, it was past 4:30.

“Well, duh,” I said aloud and lay down on the floor.

Well now. Wasn’t Mikoko-chan coming to pick up at

four? Of this I was certain. I may forget things, but I never

misrember them. This ant Mikoko-chan had either

gotten in an accident, gotten lost, or was just a sloppy person.

But no matter which it was, there was nothing I could do right

now.

“Ti for so Eight Queens?”

Of course, there was nothing as extravagant as a chessboard

in my room, so I’d just have to play it in my mind. The

rules to Eight Queens were simple, and concise—just place

eight queens on a chessboard so that none of them can capture

any other. It’s one of those “brain exercise” routines. I’d

played the ga quite a few tis, so I basically knew the

solution. But with my poor mory, I always forgot the exact

arrangent, so I was able to enjoy the ga every single ti

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 5 5

I played it. Okay, not that it was really all that enjoyable. But

it was a good way to kill so ti.

I started strong, but the trouble set in around the fourth

queen. The ga was starting to lose its consistency. Queens

just don’t get along with other queens. There should never be

more than one party in power. Moreover, if I allowed my

thoughts to wander like this, I’d lose track of where I had put

all the pieces up until now, and I’d have to start all over.

The thrill of sectioning off your mind like this was indescribable.

You could say it was sothing like the feeling of

walking on a balance beam, only the more pieces you placed

down—that is, the closer you got to a final solution—the

harder it beca. In that sense, it was very much like a ga,

and great in that sense. In the case of failure, there was no one

but yourself on whom to vent your anger, and herein lay the

real thrill.

And just as I was trying to find the place for the seventh

queen, there ca a knock at my door and a cry of “Ikkun!”

The chessboard went flying. Queens everywhere.

For an instant, my heart, not to ntion my thoughts,

stopped.

I approached the door and swung it open. This ti, it really

was Mikoko-chan. She wore a pink camisole with a red

miniskirt, exposing a healthy and refreshing amount of skin.

“Morning!” she said with a wave. Then ca the full-faced

grin. “Ikkun, guten morgen!”

“. . .”

“. . .”

“. . .”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 5 6

“Morgen . . . gen . . . gen . . . It’s like the Doppler effect or

sothing.” She was as spastic and smiley as I’d co to expect

her to be. Her eyes drifted away from off into space.

“Umm, I was just wondering, and I know this isn’t the kind of

thing you would do, but . . . Are you mad or resentful or hatefilled

or cursing my na or anything? Actually, cursing my

na does seem kinda like sothing you’d do.”

“. . .”

“Co on, let’s communicate! Hey! Don’t be so quiet!

When you get all quiet I feel like I’m about to have sothing

terrible done to !”

“Your palm,” I said.

“Hm?”

“Hold the palm of your hand in front of your face like

this.”

“Okay . . .”

She did as told.

Smack! I smooshed her hand into her own face.

“Gwah!” she shrieked in unfeminine fashion. Satisfied for

the ti being, I went back inside to fetch my bag. Now

where had I put those yatsuhashi?

“Uwa! You’re terrible!” she said as she ca into my room

for so reason. “You’re being violent with just for being a

little bit late? That’s abuse, you know. It’s like forming a jurybased

judicial system, only all the jurors are O. J. Simpson!”

Apparently forty minutes late was only “a little bit late” in

Mikoko-chan’s mind. Without waiting for an invitation, she

ca into the middle of my room and took a seat on the floor.

Plop. She scanned her surroundings with a look of true curiosity.

“Oooooo,” she sighed in awe. “Wow, there’s nothing

here. Amazing!”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 5 7

“You know, that kind of complint isn’t particularly

flattering.”

“You really don’t have a TV! You’re like one of those

struggling students from the good ol’ days. I bet you study by

the light of fireflies! Does anyone else live in this apartnt?”

“Uh, well, there’s one swordsman freeloader, one hermit,

a fifteen-year-old and thirteen-year-old brother and sister currently

running away from ho, and then there’s , so that’s

four rooms and five people. Up until recently there was an

aspiring singer here too, but she went to Tokyo to launch her

major-label debut.”

“Wow, so this place is kind of prosperous. Kind of a surprise.

So I guess that ans there’s an open room here? Hmm.

It does have a certain ambience, huh? Maybe I should move

in!”

What could she have possibly seen in this apartnt, in

this room, that would’ve given her such an idea? “Better not,”

I said, giving her the appropriate advice. “Well, let’s get going,

huh?”

“Ah, not yet. It’s still too early,” she blurted out.

“But won’t it be bad if we don’t leave soon? We’re already

pushing forty minutes here.”

“No, we just have to be there by six. Tomo-chan’s apartnt

isn’t far from here, so even if we leave at five thirty we’ll

have plenty of ti to get there.”

“Oh really?”

“Really,” she said with an index finger thrust skyward. It

was hard to deny the adorableness of her grandiose gesticulations,

but it didn’t seem like the thing I needed to go out of

my way to ntion, so I didn’t. I didn’t want to get her all

excited.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 5 8

“Then why did you say four o’clock?”

“Huh? Oh, that. Well, you know. Ehh, I’m not so great

with ti. It was just in case, just in case.”

“You an there was a chance you might have been an

hour and a half late?”

Just thinking about it made feel like blood might shoot

out of my ears.

“Huh?” she said, peeping at my face to catch my expression.

“What’s the matter?” she asked cheerfully.

“Nothing. I’m not thinking about anything. I’m definitely

not thinking about how you should maybe consider the feelings

of the person waiting for you to arrive. Or how you

should stick to the ti that you designated. Or how you

should at least call if you’re going to be late. Or how you

should take better care of chessboards.”

“Chessboards?” She scratched her head.

Naturally she wasn’t supposed to understand that.

I found the yatsuhashi lying in the corner of the room and

cut the seal on one of the boxes. I placed it in front of her.

“Can I eat ’em?”

“Sure.”

I stood up and made my way over to the sink. I thought to

boil so water for team, but I didn’t have a kettle. I thought

of using a hot pot, but I had no burner in any case. So I just

poured her a cup of tap water and placed it in front of her.

Looking thoroughly baffled, she glanced at the liquid

thrust before her, but then pretended not to see it and didn’t

bother touching it.

She chowed down enthusiastically on the yatsuhashi.

“Asking this might be one of those things and all, but are you

poor, by any chance?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 5 9

“No, I’m not particularly strapped for funds.”

Living in an apartnt like this, I had no evidence to support

this statent, but it was the truth. At the very least, I

had enough money saved up to pay for your years of college

without lifting a single finger. Technically it wasn’t money I

had earned personally, but it was in my possession.

“I guess you’re sort of an economist then, huh? Or is it a

philosopher?”

“I’m just bad at spending money. Sort of the opposite of a

shopaholic.”

I helped myself to so yatsuhashi as I spoke. She gave

a halfhearted nod of comprehension.

As she knelt on the straw-matted floor of my room, I

stared at her from top to bottom. Huh. Not that I was thinking

anything in particular, but there was sothing very

awkward about having her sitting here in the middle of my

room. I don’t know if you would call it unnatural or risqué,

but sothing about it felt incredibly iffy.

I stood up.

“Huh? Where ya going? We’ve still got an extra forty minutes.”

“Forty minutes is just a ‘little bit,’ right?”

“Ahh! Ikkun, that’s the kind of thing a big jerko would

say!” she said, recoiling overzealously. “You don’t have to hold

it against forever!”

“I’m just joking. Let’s go get a light lunch sowhere. It’s

no fun just picking at each other in this empty room.”

I hoisted my bag over my shoulder and headed toward the

door.

“Aww, that’s not true,” she mumbled as she followed .

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 6 0

Tomo-chan resided in a students-only apartnt complex

near Nishiôji Maruta-machi. Just looking at that steelreinforced,

concrete exterior, I could imagine the difference in

rent from my own place. Five tis as much, or even ten

if you got swindled.

Mikoko-chan must have been there before, because she

entered the main lobby with an air of confidence. She pushed

the room number on the intercom and pressed the call button.

“Yellooo! It’s Mikoko-cakes.”

“Yo-yo. C’mon up.”

As the sowhat drowsy voice erged from the intercom,

the firmly locked glass door slid open. An autolock security

system. Actually, maybe that’s too extravagant a term.

Whether that lock was there or not made little difference to

anyone trying to break in.

“Co on, hurry. Hurry hurry hurry hurry.” Mikoko-chan

passed through the door and beckoned for to hurry along.

“Sixth floor, sixth floor! We gotta hurry!”

“It’s not like the sixth floor is going to get away.”

“Yeah, but it won’t co down to greet us either.”

“That’s true . . .”

I followed along as told.

“The sixth floor is the very top one. Tomo-chan lives in the

corner apartnt, and there’s a pretty nice view, as views go.”

“Mm, nice view, eh?”

That was one thing I never hoped to see where I was living.

If you opened the window in my place, you got trees.

We called down the elevator and got in.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 6 1

“I wonder if Akiharu-kun’s here yet. Muimi-chan is pretty

much a given, but . . .”

Mikoko-chan was incredibly excited. Seeing her carefree

expression, even I couldn’t help but think about how nice it

must be to have friends. Whether or not it worked for , it

must’ve been very nice for her.

We got off at the sixth floor. Mikoko-chan raced down the

hallway and stopped in front of the very last door. “Over here,

over here!” she shouted and beckoned. It made want to ask

if she was just completely oblivious to the looks people gave

her.

She pushed in the doorbell. Ding-dong. The door opened,

and a girl revealed herself.

“Welco,” the girl—most likely Tomo-chan—said drowsily,

a cigarette hanging from her lips. She was entirely different

than I had expected.

“So, Mikoko. On ti for a change, eh?” She wore her long

brown hair in a sauvage—with her hangs long and the rest cut

at wildly varying lengths—and her fashion sense was impeccable:

Her light jacket and jeans combo was very stylish. She

was probably a little taller than , and was so sickly thin that

if she said she had only one day to live, I probably would have

believed her. It was the perfect match for her slightly crooked

smile.

“Howdy, Muimi-chan!” Mikoko-chan greeted. “Haro haro!”

It seed this wasn’t Tomo-chan after all, but Muimichan.

“Oops,” she said, finally noticing my presence. Without

a hint of shyness, she gave a hard study from top to bottom.

“Maybe this is our first ti talking, ‘Ikkun,’ “ she said

with a smirk.

“Yeah,” I said apathetically. “Hey.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 6 2

It seed my apathy had struck a chord with her. She let

out an exaggerated laugh. It was boisterous, and not very

feminine.

“Well how ‘bout that. You are an interesting guy. I think

we’ll get along.”

“Really.” It was more of a sigh than a response. Not the

kind of thing that warranted such judgnt. It was just about

as enthusiastic as my greeting had been. “I don’t think so.”

“Heh, well, we don’t have to get into all that. Just co in.

Stupid Akiharu isn’t here yet. We just called and he was still

at ho.”

“Oh my God, he’ll never change. Last ti he claid he

got confused by the ti zone difference. That lousy tardyman.”

Mikoko sure was throwing stones at the proverbial glass

house. It was almost impressive. But I wasn’t in the mood to

start teasing her about it, so I stayed silent as I removed my

shoes.

At the end of the short hallway between the kitchen and

bathroom was a single door. It seed this was one of those

sectioned-off one-rooms. Muimi-chan went ahead of us and

opened the door. The room inside was about eight or nine

mats in size, but the floors were hardwood. By the window

was a bed, and in the middle of the room, a mini-table covered

with cake, snacks, and a row of empty glasses. So this was

more of a drinks thing than a dinner-thing affair after all.

A girl was sitting daintily beside the table. This ti it had

to be Tomo-chan. She was even more petite then Mikokochan,

and dressed in a strawberry-patterned one-piece. Her

hair was in pigtails. She gave a little wave.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 6 3

She was just as shy as I’d imagined. And yet sothing

about her made think she probably had a bad habit or two.

It was like there was more than ets the eye—as if her simplistic

form prevented you from being able to see through her.

Thinking about it made feel as though soone had asked

for the sum of all integers.

“No, wait.”

That’s all nonsense. Everyone feels that way when they

et soone for the first ti. It wasn’t technically my first

eting with Tomo-chan, but I didn’t really know her, so it

was only natural that I had this impression.

Hmm. Co to think of it, it did seem as though we had

crossed paths a few tis in our general education seminar. I

joined her at the table so that I was facing her, and tossed out

a simple greeting. “Yo.” She looked at a little crookedly,

then gave a politely deep bow.

“Thanks for going to all this trouble. Sorry to ask such a big

favor.” Her voice was pretty and calm, with a watery quality.

“I’ve always wanted to have a chat with you, so I hope you

have a good ti today.”

I was a little moved by her good manners. It was sothing

I hadn’t seen much lately (especially in the last day or

two).

“Ahahaha, quick to break the ice, eh?” Mikoko-chan said as

she sat down next to on her knees. Muimi-chan, in turn,

sat down next to her. This allowed enough room for Akiharukun

to eventually co sit between and Tomo-chan.

“Ahhh.” Muimi-chan put out her cigarette with her own

finger, then deposited it in an ashtray. “So what are we doing?

We’ve got a brand-new guest here. Should we go ahead and

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 6 4

start? It seems stupid to sit around wasting ti just because

of that asshead.”

“Hey, we can’t do that,” Mikoko-chan interjected. “For

sothing like this we have to all be together! Right, Tomochan?”

“Yup, Mikoko’s right.” Tomo-chan nodded. “You know

he’ll be here soon, so don’t be so impatient. Right?”

“I don’t really care, but...” Muimi-chan gestured towards

. “What about Ikkun here?”

“I don’t mind. I’m used to waiting.” To be sure, that didn’t

an I was used to people making wait. But it would have

been too much of a hassle to start an argunt about it, so I

just fed her an easy line.

Muimi shot an inquisitive look, but “Well, whatever

then,” was all she said. She pulled out a fresh cigarette, then

shot another look. “Are you an antitobacco kind of guy?”

she asked.

“I don’t smoke myself, but you can smoke all you like.”

“Ah. No, I’m good.” She broke in half the cigarette she

hadn’t even lit yet and deposited it in the ashtray. “I make it a

point not to smoke around nonsmokers.”

“Huh.”

Did that an Mikoko-chan and Tomo-chan were both

smokers? The fact that she had asked only seed to indicate

such. Huh. I was a little surprised.

“Hey! Muimi-chan, you’ll make sound like a smoker if

you put it like that!” Mikoko-chan objected once again. She

was giving us the puppy-dog eyes. For so reason she

seed vehently opposed to finding out she was a

smoker.

“But you do smoke.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 6 5

“No I don’t! I was just going with the flow that one ti!”

“Ah, right. Gotcha. My fault, my fault.” Muimi-chan gave

her a friendly pat as she threw her little tantrum. anwhile,

Tomo-chan watched on in delight.

Huh. It didn’t take long to notice the dynamic here. It was

the good girl, the bad girl, and the regular girl. This made

Wonder what Akiharu’s role was. He finally showed up at

6:30, half an hour late.

“Sorry, sorry. I thought I’d be here on ti, but the train

was crowded and stuff,” he said with good humor.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Tomo-chan said as she greeted

him with a smile. The good girl.

“The train doesn’t arrive any later just because it’s crowded!

And you live in a boarding house, so you don’t even take

the train anyway!” Mikoko-chan, the regular girl. She had the

nerve to question his la excuses.

“You think you can get off with a simple apology? You

gotta chug three beers,” Muimi-chan said, passing a beer bottle

over to him. The bad girl.

“Okay, okay. Don’t rush so much, Atemiya. This is a

birthday, a birthday. Not a mayday. Goddamn I’m a clever

bastard. What the . . . ?” It seed he had noticed my presence.

He gave a problem-child sneer. “Heh heh, so you really

brought him, Aoii,” he said.

He sat down next to and said, “Well, good to et

you,” with a slight bow.

I did likewise.

He had an easy-breezy air about him, with light brown hair

and a taste for street fashion. Maybe it wasn’t uncommon for a

university student to dress like that, but at Rokuikan in

particular, it was kind of unusual. Judging from his build, it

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 6 6

looked like he was involved in so kind of sport, but I

couldn’t tell which one.

“Umm, what do I . . . wha? Are we all supposed to just call

you Ikkun then?”

“I don’t mind.”

“Really, really? Gotcha. You’re a good guy. Don’t you

think so, Aoii?”

He shot Mikoko-chan a aningful look. She shot back a

flustered one. “Oh, uh, yeah.” Judging from her response, it

didn’t seem like she thought I was a very good guy at all. Of

course, considering how much I made fun of her, that was

probably only natural.

“Well, shall we start?” Muimi-chan said. She seed to be

the leader of the four. She pointed at . “Umm, you don’t

drink, right?” she said.

I nodded.

“Oh? What’s this now, Ikkun? You can’t go around being

finicky all the ti, you know. Alcohol is a vital component in

man-to-man interactions after all, right? I an, am I right or

am I right?”

“Akiharu! What did I tell you about pushing your bullshit

opinions on others?! I’ll fucking kill you!” Muimi-chan gave

him the look of death. Her cool, almost dazed deanor from

a mont ago had sharpened into a knife of fury. “Did you

already forget what I told you last ti? Huh?”

Akiharu quivered and tensed with fear. “Uh . . .”

“I’m not lookin’ for an ’uhhh.’ ”

“Sorry.”

“Not lookin’ for a ‘sorry’ either. Why the hell are you

apologizing to ? Huh?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 6 7

Akiharu-kun’s mouth opened and closed like he was a

suffocating fish. Then he looked over at . “Please forgive

,” he apologized.

“Okay, then,” Muimi-chan said with a look of satisfaction.

“Sorry there, Ikkun. He didn’t an anything by it. Forgive

the guy, will ya?” She had completely returned to her origi-nal

self and smiled back at . “Did he piss you off?”

“Uh, I don’t really care.”

Atemiya Muimi. She was definitely an ex-delinquent. No,

not even an “ex.” I thought that brown sauvage seed a little

out of date.

Maybe I should call her Boss.

anwhile, Mikoko-chan poured so low-malt beer into

each glass and lined them up in front of everyone. She also

placed a single glass of oolong tea in front of .

“So who’s going to lead the proceedings? Shall it be Tomochan,

our queen for a day?”

“Yeah, I believe it shall,” Muimi-chan said. “Tomo, let’s

have it.”

Tomo-chan raised her glass a bit reluctantly. “Okay then.

To my twentieth birthday and our new friend.”

Cheers.

I lightly tipped my glass.

“So the thing about friends is that they’re like, eh, you know,

like . . . y’know,” Zerozaki said with a cynical smile. The tattoo

scrawled across the right side of his face wrinkled unpleasantly.

“What do you think?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 6 8

“You’re actually asking ? I thought this was going to be

so kind of spiel.”

“Hah, don’t expect to do everything. They say if you

want to figure out your own opinion, you gotta ask others

theirs, right? So let’s hear it. What do you think? What is a

friend?”

“It’s not such a hard question. It's just soone you hang

out with, have als with, joke around about stupid things

with. Soone who brings you peace. That kind of thing,

right?” he said.

“You got it. Exactamundo. If you look at it that way,

friends are such a simple thing, man, like pie. You hang out,

you eat together, act stupid and feel peaceful together, and

that makes you friends. If you co to each other’s rescue,

you’re close friends. If you smooch each other sotis,

you're lovers. Oh, what a treasure of life friendship is!” he said

with a sneer.

“So the question here is, how long do these friendships

last? A year? Five years? Ten years? Forever? Until tomorrow?”

“Is your point that even friendships co to an end?”

“My point is that all things co to an end.”

“Well, sure. But without endings, there could be no beginnings.

That’s the vital subtext. If you’re looking to gain sothing,

you’ve got to be prepared to sacrifice one-third of it. If

you want a payoff, you've got to take a risk. If you can’t do

that, you’re better off just living with what you’ve got.”

“Gahaha. I guess you must be that type.”

I had no need for things I would just lose in ti. If it was

just going to end anyway, it didn’t have to begin. I had no

need for pleasure if it ca accompanied by pain.

“Why? Are you any different?” I said.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 6 9

If it ant never being sad, I didn’t have to be happy.

If it ant never fading, I didn’t have to succeed.

Evolution loaded with risk was a waste of ti.

“Eh, but in reality, that's all true whether you’re after

sothing or not,” I said.

“No doubt.”

Zerozaki laughed. I didn’t.

Be that as it may.

Three hours had passed since the party began. I won’t get

into what happened during those three hours. Nobody particularly

wants others to see what they’re like when they’re

drunk, and they certainly don’t want to have the details relayed

from person to person.

No matter how people feel while they’re drinking, it’s inevitable

afterward that good old sha cos to pay them a

visit. It's difficult to determine which is real: the person you

are under the influence of alcohol, or the person you are when

you’re sober. But one thing's for sure: A wild night spent in

good fun isn’t sothing you want to try to recount later on.

It’s one of those “unpaintable scenes” like Urashima Tarô

talked about.

Still, if I were to dare to share a little vignette of the

evening’s festivities just for kicks, it would go sothing like

this:

“So whaddaya call a rock made of oxygen and nitrogen?”

“Quartz! Gaaahahahaha!”

“That’s like a two-hundred shot barrage from a watercooled

heavy machine gun, only it’s an assassin squad!”

“Shit, that aside, it’s hot today. Why is it so hot in the middle

of May? Is it global warming? Is it the greenhouse effect?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 7 0

“What?! Listen here, chump, if you want to complain

about the sumr heat, you answer to ! Bring it!”

“Are you the one they caught in Catcher in the Rye?!”

“It's a tropical night, that's what it is.”

“Then I guess that makes a tropical fish!”

And so three hours passed.

At present, Mikoko-chan, Akiharu-kun, and Tomo-chan

were playing PS2. It looked like a racing ga. Realistically

depicted four-wheeled machines sped around the narrow onscreen

circuit.

Huh. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it tantalizing, but there

was sothing rather pleasant about watching them all so

fully imrsed in their fun. It looked like they were willing to

share so of that happiness with , and sohow that

made surprisingly lonely.

“Well, I guess even this is—”

Soone slapped on the shoulder. It was Muimi-chan.

Apparently a heavy drinker, she didn’t seem any different

from when she was sober, even from a bystander’s point of

view.

She didn’t call herself Boss for nothing. Not that she called

herself Boss at all.

“Wanna go outside for a bit?” she said, pointing toward the

entrance. “Let’s go to the convenience store.”

“What about Mikoko-chan and the others?”

“We can just let ’em be. They don’t know what’s going on

right now anyway.”

She was right about that. I nodded and left the room with

her. We got back into the elevator, traveled down to the first

floor, and exited the building.

“Is the convenience store close by?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 7 1

“Eh, it’s a bit of a walk. But c’mon, let's walk a little bit.

It’ll help sober up.”

“You don’t really seem drunk though.”

“Maybe not on the surface, but I’m pretty far gone. It feels

like my brain’s flipped upside down so my cerebrum and cerebellum

are switched. Right now I wanna kick the crap outta

that sign.”

“Just don’t kick the crap out of .”

“I’ll try,” she said with a little laugh. She shook her head

and looked up toward the sky.

“Doesn’t really feel like a birthday party,” I said. “I wonder

if this is really enough to make Tomo-chan happy. She’s still

drunk now, but I wonder if she’ll get depressed about it later.”

“Yeah, I wonder . . . But it’s still better than being depresssed

from the very beginning. Yeah. It’s all good. You

don’t need a good reason to get wild. Ahh . . . I’m groggy.”

“You look pretty exhausted, Muimi-chan.”

“Well, that’s what I get for hanging out with those guys.”

My sentints exactly. Mikoko-chan was spunky enough

to begin with, but when she was inebriated she was four tis

as bad. Then there was Akiharu-kun, and even Tomo-chan

was getting pretty rowdy.

“Man, if you think about it, I guess being able to hold your

liquor so well puts you at kind of a disadvantage. It must be

hard to follow along with the mood.”

“Exactly. I an, it’s still fun, so it’s no big deal.”

“You think it’s okay to leave those three drunks in a room

unattended?”

“They’re not kids. They’ll be fine. Actually, it's probably

more dangerous to be walking around outside in the middle of

the night,” she said.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 7 2

A good point. We were in the midst of the Kyoto Slasher

serial murders. So that was why she bothered taking along

with her. I may look scrawny and unreliable, but I’m still a

guy, in a manner of speaking.

“What a ssed-up world, huh? What could be enjoyable

about chopping up a human being?”

“Well, different strokes, I guess.” I tried to brush off the

topic. If I was thrust into a conversation about it, there was a

chance I would let my tongue slip. It wasn’t that Zerozaki had

told to keep my mouth shut, but it sure wasn’t the kind of

thing I wanted everyone and their mother to know about.

“I can’t understand it at all,” she said. “I an, I’ve been

around for twenty years now. Even I’ve thought to myself

before, ‘I oughta kill that bastard.’ Actually, it happens a lot.

Even nowadays. Like, ‘this person would be better off dead.

Killing him would serve the greater good.’ ”

“. . . .”

“But what's up with these random killings? I can’t understand

the idea of finding pleasure in the act of killing itself.”

“In general, they say serial killers who choose their targets

at random are fueled by resentnt. So it’s just like when you

say to yourself, ‘I oughta kill that bastard,’ ” I said.

“Really? But then the killings aren’t random.”

“It’s a little different, though. In this killer’s case, he resents

the victims simply because they happened to walk by. He resents

the world as a whole. He hates the world that surrounds

him, a world that, for him, is as vague and nebulous as the air.

And so his killings appear to be random.”

“Hmm . . .” She nodded, but to be honest, I was only speculating.

I had no idea why he was committing acts of murder.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 7 3

We had only talked about stupid, irrelevant things the previous

night, and never touched upon the topic of his motives.

We were probably saving the best for last, childish as that

may sound.

“It’s just nonsense, though,” I said.

Muimi-chan scratched her head at .

While we were talking, we eventually reached the convenience

store. She entered ahead of and quickly made her

way to the liquor section.

“You're buying more alcohol?”

“Nah, there’s already plenty of that. Let’s get so Pocari.

Gotta sober those guys up or they won’t be able to get ho.”

“Ah, gotcha.”

We put three two-liter bottles of Pocari sports drinks in a

basket, picked out two or three types of snacks, and proceeded

to settle up at the register. Maybe I should’ve expected this,

but I ended up carrying everything.

As we left the store, Muimi-chan pulled a cigarette from

her pocket, stuck it in her mouth, and lit it with a coollooking

Zippo, all in one fluid motion.

“Ah!” she said and imdiately went to extinguish it with

her finger.

“I don’t care if you smoke one. We’re outside, anyway.”

“Really?”

“Well, I guess it’s rude to smoke and walk at the sa

ti, but since it’s night and nobody’s around, it’s probably

fine as long as you don’t litter ashes everywhere.” And, indeed,

there was no one around who'd object to her blowing smoke

everywhere as she walked.

“Well . . . nah, it’s okay. I’ll stick to my decision.” She went

ahead and snuffed it with her finger. Then she curled up the

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 7 4

cigarette butt and put it in her pocket. It seed she wasn’t

the littering type. I was a little impressed: For a college student,

she had above-average morals.

“If you don’t mind my asking, isn’t that hot?” I said.

“Not really. I’m used to it,” she said with a slightly bashful

smile. “There was this Mafia boss bad guy in a movie I used to

like, and he did the sa thing with cigars. With the palm of

his hand, like this. It was cool, so I started imitating it.”

“Huh.”

“Looking back, I just thought the actor was hot, but it’s a

habit now. Anyway, that aside . . . Ikkun, let’s talk seriously for

a minute.” Her expression imdiately grew serious, changing

as abruptly as a circuit switch. I couldn’t help but be a little

surprised. “It's pretty tough keeping up with Mikoko's hyperness,

huh?”

“Not particularly.’’

“Huh,” she said. Her expression grew all the more serious.

She hesitated for a mont. “What do you think of her?” she

asked .

“What do I think?”

Judging from her expression, she wasn’t looking for so

halfhearted bullshit answer.

But I couldn’t figure out what that question was supposed

to an. I didn’t really think much of anything about her.

“Well, I think she's got a little bit of red in her hair. She's

around five feet tall, and may or may not weigh as much as

one hundred ten. From the way she acts, I’d guess she’s a type

B, and her astrological sign is probably one of the beasts. She's

got a kind of koala-ish feel in general.”

“Did you really think I was looking for a half-assed answer

like that?” she asked.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 7 5

Whoops. Delinquent mode. Why oh why do I so love stepping

on land mines, I wondered. I broke eye contact with her.

“I dunno. I an, she’s a nice girl, I guess. Sure she’s a little

overly hyper, which can be exhausting, but I know a girl

who’s even worse than her, so it doesn’t particularly bother

.”

“Huh. How neutral of you.”

“Well, I don’t like making waves.”

“Is that a fact?”

She paused for a mont, then gave a sort of sidelong

glance.

“You’re kind of a sliball, aren’t you, Ikkun?” she said.

“I’m self-aware.”

“Self-aware, huh? I wonder. I wouldn’t know. Anyway, let

give you a word of advice.” She took a step ahead and

turned to face directly. I had no choice but to stop. The

apartnt building was still about a hundred feet away. Surely

the others were still inside racing. Muimi-chan ran her fingers

through her sauvage hair and shot a direct glare.

“Mikoko and I have been friends since we were just little

brats.”

“Huh.”

“If you hurt her, I’ll never forgive you.”

I scratched my head a bit. Why was she telling this?

Could it be that she was mad because of all the tis I had

teased Mikoko-chan up to now? It didn’t seem like the kind of

thing to take so seriously, but Muimi-chan sure didn’t seem to

be joking, so I answered with a shrug.

“It’s okay. Despite how it seems, I’m actually nice to my

friends.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 7 6

She blinked her narrowed eyes at . “Hahahahaha!” she

laughed. A mont later, she spun back around. “I stand corrected.”

She recomnced walking. “You're just clueless.”

It felt like a terrible insult, but at the sa ti, it was

probably the most accurate description anyone had ever applied

to in all my nineteen years, so it was hard to get mad.

We returned to the room to find that the others were indeed

still racing. Surprisingly, Tomo-chan was apparently the

most skilled. Mikoko-chan was a lap behind.

“Yo! Guzzle down this Pocari, you goons! You drunken

bitches!”

For so reason Muimi-chan had suddenly gone berserk,

smacking the “drunken bitches” in the heads with Pocari.

Being hit in the head with a full plastic bottle should have

been fairly painful, but they were so thoroughly numb with

drink they didn’t even seem to mind.

I don’t like noisiness. I hate boisterousness. Loud situations

irritate .

But on occasion, like maybe once a year, maybe these

things are kind of nice. Or so I thought.

I was wrong.

It was past eleven p.m.

“Well, thanks for tonight,” Muimi-chan said as she rose to

her feet. “Akiharu, take ho.”

“Aw, why?” Akiharu whined. He shot her an aggravated

look; he was sprawled out in the cor of the room. “Just go

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 7 7

yourself. I’m gonna rest a little before I go. Your place is far.

My place is in the opposite direction.”

“Are you a man? Don’t tell you’re not even worth a

ride ho.”

“Tch . . . fine.”

He stood up, still looking aggrieved, as if he knew there

was no point in objecting. His eyes shifted over to Tomo-chan.

“Well, here's your birthday present,” he said, pulling a package

out of his bag.

“Ah . . . Muimi-chan said. “That’s right, you give presents

on birthdays . . .”

“Hm? What’s that you say? What? Co again, Atemiyasan?”

Akiharu-kun said with the glee of soone who had just

defeated an ogre. “Don’t tell that you forgot to get your

dear friend a birthday present! Oh my goodness, I cannot

believe it! Is this a joke?! Ohh, what to do, what to do?! For

the love of God, tell , what to do?! Huh? Huh?”

“Cram it, oaf. Isn’t my smile enough?” Muimi-chan said

sulkily and headed toward the entrance.

“Hey, wait up! Don’t get mad so easily! What are you, a

kid?! Ahh, here we go. See ya at school, Emoto! Adieu! Let’s

hang out again soon, Ikkun!” Akiharu-kun gave a light wave

and chased after Muimi-chan.

“Bye-bye. See ya again,” Tomo-chan said as she waved

sluggishly back. As soon as the two had left, her hands went

for the present. She undid the ribbon and neatly opened the

wrapping paper.

“I wonder what it is. Ikkun, what do you think it is?” It

seed the alcohol was mostly out of her system. Her cheeks

still had a bit of red in them and her voice was a little shrill,

but her personality seed to have returned to its default

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 7 8

setting. “I’m a little excited. This kind of thing always makes

giddy.”

“Well, it’s probably not yatsuhashi, at any rate,” I said. Incidentally,

the yatsuhashi I had brought had already been

evenly divided among the stomachs of all five party mbers.

“Judging from the size, it's probably an accessory or sothing.”

“Yeah, maybe. Oh, it’s a neckstrap. Pretty cool, huh?”

It was a capsule-style neckstrap with a liquid center. It

didn’t really look like a girly item, but as Tomo-chan had said,

it was pretty cool.

“Heheheh, it’s just what I was hoping for,” she said gleefully

as she imdiately tried it on. “How does it look,

Ikkun?”

“It’s a good match,” I said, but I didn’t really know.

My eyes made their way from the gushing Tomo-chan over

to Mikoko-chan, who was snoozing in the cor. She looked

so peaceful that I couldn’t bear to wake her. Perhaps she was

planning to just spend the night at Tomo-chan's place.

“Hey, Ikkun,” Tomo-chan said, suddenly straightening herself

out. “I want to say thanks again for coming all the way out

here today.”

“I don’t think it’s the kind of thing you have to thank

for.”

“But you don’t like doing this kind of thing, right?”

Her question was a little awkward, but it also ca out as

if it was sothing totally normal to her. She delicately raised

her face to view my expression.

It was like . . .

She was looking through .

Like she was looking at my brain from the inside.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 7 9

“Uh, no, I . . .”

“You don’t like opening up to other people, right?”

“It's all right. I don’t hate it. I actually kind of like goofing

around with everyone like chums.”

“That’s a lie.”

“It’s the truth.”

“It’s a lie.”

“Yes, it is.”

She snickered at . But her eyes weren’t smiling. They

actually looked rather sad and lonely. The strange combination

of expressions had puzzled.

What was wrong? What reason could she have for looking

so sad when she had spent her birthday surrounded by

friends?

There shouldn’t have been anything wrong.

Supposing there was . . .

“Mikoko-chan . . .” she said, casting a glance over at the

slumbering Mikoko-chan. “She’s really a great girl.”

“Yeah,” I responded. I was being unusually direct—by my

standards, anyway. “I bet she is.”

“I wanted to be like her.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“But I couldn’t.”

“Uh-huh.”

She cast her eyes downward.

“And now here I am, twenty years old, still unable to be

like her. I’m sure it’ll go on like that. No matter how many

years pass, no matter how many decades. I’ll never be like her,

until the day I die.”

“What’s wrong with that? Everyone’s different.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 8 0

“Say, Ikkun,” she said, looking up again. “Have you ever

felt like, as a human, you’re damaged goods?”

I had no idea how to respond.

“I have.” She was smiling. It was the saddest smile I had

ever seen.

“Everybody does . . .” The words just ca out. Whether

they were really from the heart, I didn’t know. They were just

words of comfort. I was probably just saying words I didn’t

really an so as to not have to see Tomo-chan look so sad.

What a sliball.

How comical.

How terribly unseemly.

“Everyone feels like that sotis, I suppose. Nobody’s

perfect, after all. We’ve all got our strong points and our weak

points. That’s what makes us human.”

“Yeah, I know. Even I know that, but you probably understand

that that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about

sothing more finite, I guess, or more lethal, like a fatal

wound, I guess.”

Boom.

The words shook .

“It’s kind of like that.”

“. . . .” So this was the real reason I couldn’t read Emoto

Tomoe very well. Perhaps this was really it.

In other words, a long ti ago . . .

“There’s another right here,” she said, pointing over her

own right shoulder. “When I get all rowdy and have fun with

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 8 1

Muimi-chan and Akiharu-kun and Mikoko-chan and you like

this, that part of is just watching on, sighing. It’s looking

down on with cold disdain as I have my fun, saying ‘What

you’re doing won’t amount to anything.’ ”

“Sighing,” she said. “I know I’ll probably never be like

Mikoko-chan until the day I die, but maybe I’ll be able to

once I really do die. If I’m reincarnated, I want to co back

as Mikoko-chan. I want to be able to laugh with complete innocence

like her, to get mad when I want to be mad, to cry

like crazy when I’m sad. That’s what makes a great life.”

“I . . .” This ti I was speaking from the heart. “I don’t

want to be reincarnated. I want to just hurry up and die.”

“I’ll bet,” she said with a gentle smile.

Mikoko-chan woke up around one hour later.

“Uhhh.” She shook the sleep out of her head. She still

looked pretty tired.

“So what’re you going to do?” I said. “I’m going ho. Are

you going to stay the night?”

“No, I’ll go . . .” She rose to her feet in a daze. “It's okay,

I've sobered up. Give ten more seconds.”

“Sure. I’ll take you ho, then.” I was at least worth a ride

ho, I wanted to emphasize, but she didn’t seem to get it.

She had been deeply imrsed in sleep when Muimi-chan

left, so that made sense.

“Well, bye-bye, Tomo-chan.”

“Yep. See ya later.” She gave a little wave.

I took my bag and headed toward the entrance. I sat down

in the doorway and put on my shoes. They had ssy laces, so

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 8 2

putting them on was always much more of a hassle than removing

them. Situations like these were an irritating waste of

ti. anwhile, Mikoko-chan seed to be having problems

with her own footwork, and a clumsy clopping noise could be

heard through the door separating us.

It probably wasn’t sothing to worry about. She appeared

in the hallway outside the entrance shortly after .

“Ohh,” she moaned, rubbing her head. “My head hurts . . .

It’s spinning. It's like a murder at a convenience store, only the

murderer is wearing Rollerblades.”

“I have no idea what you’re saying. Are you sure you don’t

want to stay here for the night? There’s no need to overexert

yourself.”

“It’s okay, I can go.”

She hobbled down the hall on unsteady feet. I gave a shrug

and followed after her.

“So did you have fun?” she said once we were out of the

building.

“Eh, I guess. But I think I'll pass next ti.”

“Don’t say that. Let’s do it again! With everyone! When’s

your birthday?”

“March.”

She looked defeated. “Mine’s in April. Ohh, I guess I

should’ve invited you sooner.”

“So where’s your place? I’ll take you back.”

“Near Horikawa. Horikawa Oike. But we’ve got to go to

your place first.”

“Why?”

“My scoot . . .”

Co to think of it, she had co as far as my place on

her bike.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 8 3

“Can you drive?”

“Sure . . .”

‘Okay then.” Obviously she was in no condition to drive,

but if she said she could drive, who was I to stop her? When

the ti ca, she could just call a taxi if she had to.

We took Nishiôji Street up to Nakadachiuri and broke east,

when for so reason, David Bowie music started playing

from sowhere. Thinking it was a nearby guerrilla concert, I

was a bit taken aback, but it turned out to be Mikoko-chan's

ringtone.

“Hm?” She pulled her phone out of her purse. “Hello? This

is Mikoko-chan, the spunky and energetic girl of Lake Ashi!

Hm? What? Tomo-chan?” It seed it was a call from Tomochan.

“Yeah. Yeah . . . Yeah, he’s here with right now.

He's walking right in front of . Sure, I guess. Okay, I'll pass

it over.”

She passed the phone. “It’s Tomo-chan. She wanted

to give you the phone.”

“? Why?”

“. . . . ?”

I must have forgotten sothing at her place. I scratched

my head as I took the phone. It was more than a little smaller

than my own phone, so it felt kind of awkward.

“Hello?”

“. . . .”

“Hello?”

“Ikkun.”

A voice.

It was quivering, like she was afraid of sothing. It

could’ve been partially the phone’s fault, but sothing in her

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 8 4

voice was obviously different from when we had spoken monts

earlier at her place.

“Tomo-chan?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s wrong? Did I forget sothing? I’ve got my bag

here.”

“No, it’s not that. Um . . . I forgot to tell you sothing

earlier.”

Forget to tell sothing?

“Yeah, what?”

“Never mind. See you.”

Click.

Suddenly the call was cut off. Beeeep. Beeeep. Beeeep.

Beeeep. After four rings, I took the phone away from my ear. I

scratched my head, stared at it for another three seconds, then

handed it back to Mikoko-chan. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” she said, taking it. “So what’d she say?”

“Nothing. I don’t know what that was about.”

“Huh?”

She gave a confused expression, but I was the one who

was confused. Tomo-chan wanted to tell sothing? Why

would she start and then stop like that?

“What? I wonder what it was. Maybe it was a secret or

sothing. Did you guys have so kind of secret talk?”

“No, nothing like that, but . . . oh yeah, Mikoko-chan.” I

switched trains of thought. “Is there sobody right here?” I

said, drawing a circle with my finger over her right shoulder.

“Huh?”

She raised a dubious eyebrow at . Naturally.

“I an, do you get the feeling soone is right there,

looking down on you?” I asked.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 8 5

“I don’t think so, but . . . why?”

“Eh, if you don’t feel it then don’t worry about it.”

“If sobody was there, it'd be pretty scary,” she said as

she imagined it. “But as for in here,” she said, pointing to her

own heart, “there is sobody.”

Huh. I nodded. Judging from her bashful smirk, she must

have been talking about her boyfriend.

In about ten more minutes, we had arrived at my apartnt.

In the apartnt parking lot, there was only a single

bike, so it must have been hers.

“Whoa, it’s a Vespa.” And a white vintage model, no less.

This girl called her Vespa a “scooter”? A Vespa is a Vespa,

and only a Vespa. Calling it a scooter was, to , an insult.

And not just your everyday insult—it was the ultimate insult,

which threatened to shake my very existence. Everyone has

one thing that they’d sacrifice their own life for, that they'd

trade the world for, and to , this was that thing. I wanted

to shout at Mikoko-chan. I angrily turned to face her.

“. . . .”

She was sleeping.

“I’m speechless.”

She was sleeping standing up. She had been awfully quiet

for a while. Was it possible that she had been sleepwalking?

She probably had been. This was the power of the human race

pushed to its absolute limit. I gave her a few taps on the

cheek, but she refused to wake up. I had the urge to start

stretching her face, but it seed that there would be no way

to explain my way out of it if sobody happened to see us,

so I restrained myself.

“I wonder if I could just leave her here . . .”

If not, there were only two options.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 8 6

“Hup,” I groaned as I lifted her onto my back. She stirred a

little bit on the way, but didn’t wake up. Likely because she

was so short, she was actually quite light. Or maybe all girls

were like this.

With her still on my back, I entered the apartnt, then

made my way up the stairs to the second floor. I clomped my

way down the boarded hallway to the room next to my own.

I knocked lightly.

“Yeah, wait one mont,” an answer ca from inside.

Miiko-san soon appeared before us. She was dressed in yet a

different set of Japanese sumr casual wear, which was red

this ti. I was pretty sure this was the outfit with the word

Treachery printed on the back.

“Yes?” she said, eyeing the girl on my back suspiciously.

“You’re still under legal age, right?” she said after a mont's

thought. “Well, of course I'll let you hide out here, but speaking

purely out of kindness, I suggest you just turn yourself in.

Japan has a pretty capable police force. Not likely that you’ll

be able to escape.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that this ti. Er, this girl’s a classmate.

Looks like she drank too much and passed out. Would

you be willing to let her spend the night?”

“Huh?” She put her hand to her chin and thought for a

mont. “Why don’t you just put her up yourself?”

“Eh, but I an, as you can see, she's a girl. And it sounds

like she’s got a boyfriend, so I can’t just have her sleeping over

in my place, right?”

“Huh. Well, if that’s how it is, I guess I don’t mind. But

what is given today I will one day receive. To ignore thanks

where they’re due is a dastardly deed.”

“I gotcha. Want to go antiquing again?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 8 7

“Yes. Okay then. So what’s this girl’s na?”

“Mikoko-chan. Er, last na is Aoi, I think.”

“Aoi Mikoko? Heh, strange na,” Miiko-san said, taking

Mikoko-chan from . Everyone should have a neighbor as

dependable as her.

“Well, I’ll be on my way then.”

“Mm. Get so sleep. You’d best not make yourself out to

be so afternoon-sleeping lollygagger.”

“Huh? I never sleep in the afternoon.”

“Is that so? Well, just forget that then. Good night.”

“Good night.”

I bowed and returned to my room, where I laid down my

futon and curled up on it.

“Ti to sleep.”

And so the day ended. Saturday, May fourteenth. No, it

had already passed zero o'clock, so it was Sunday the fifteenth.

So at zero o'clock twenty-four hours later, it would be

the sixteenth. The next zero o’clock would be the seventeenth.

Zero o’clock.

Zerozaki.

Wondering if that human failure was currently killing his

seventh person or had perhaps already dismbered his

eighth, the damaged goods gradually fell into a slumber.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 8 9

No more.

I don’t want to think anymore.

When I awoke to a knocking at the door, it was already past

eight o’clock.

I brushed the hair out of my face with both hands and rose

to my feet.

“Uhhh.”

I opened the door to find Mikoko-chan. Her usual hyper

greeting had been replaced with a shy look of apologetic embarrassnt.

“Did I wake you?” she said ekly.

“Eh. It was ti to wake up anyway,” I answered as I

stretched out. “Morning, Mikoko-chan.”

“Good morning, Ikkun. Um . . . I’m sorry about yesterday.

I sort of, er . . . it looks like I fell asleep.”

“Eh, forget about it. Just be sure to thank Miiko-san.”

“Ah, right.” She nodded after a mont of ambiguous

hesitation.

“Isn’t she a good person?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 9 0

“Well, yeah, she is, huh? Kind of cool, I guess you could

say. So is she the ‘swordswoman freeloader’ you were talking

about?”

“Does she look like a thirteen-year-old little sister?”

“No, I guess not.” She awkwardly broke eye contact with

and gave a brief pause. “I don’t know if it’s because she

practices sword fighting, but her clothes were kind of weird.

Sort of Japanesey, but like the kind of thing you’d wear to a

festival.”

“You an her jinbei?”

“A djembe? What’s that?” Evidently Mikoko-chan had

never heard of it. “Oh, you an like a jinbei shark?”

“Uhh, well, yeah. Have you ever seen the pattern on the

back of a jinbei shark? It’s just like they’re wearing that sa

type of clothing. So we ended up naming that kind of Japanese

clothing jinbei, after the shark.”

“Ahh. You sure know a lot, Ikkun,” she said. “I’ll have to

teach that to Tomo-chan and the others.”

Yep. And if Tomo-chan and the others weren’t as cruel as

, they would probably teach her the truth. Why did I tell

such aningless lies? Perhaps it was ti I gave that so

serious thought.

“So anyway,” Mikoko-chan said, changing the subject. “Are

you and that girl—Asano-san—are you two close?”

“She’s saved from starvation a few tis. But then I

saved her from being crushed under a pile of antiques, so

we’re even Steven. Those yatsuhashi you had yesterday were

from her too.”

“Huh,” she said with a complicated expression. “You know,

I don’t really like yatsuhashi.”

“Huh? Oh, you don’t say.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 9 1

“Too sweet.”

“Huh. Miiko-san likes sweet stuff.”

“Well, I don’t.”

For so reason she was getting a little serious. I scratched

my head at her, not sure where she was going with this.

“Well, that’s fine. So what are you going to do now?” I

said.

“Oh, er, I’ve got this,” she said, pulling a pink, wrapped

present from her purse. “It’s Tomo-chan’s birthday present.

Forgot to give it to her. Big mistake, huh? I should’ve given it

to her before we all got drunk. I got carried away trying to get

things going.”

“Hm. Well, why not go give it to her now? She should be

ho.”

“Yup, that’s the plan.” At last, she showed her trademark

smile. “Well, thank you. Let’s get together again.”

“We’ll see.”

“Why do you say stuff like that?! Let’s do sothing!”

“Just kidding. Fine by . If I’ve got ti, I’ll spend as

much of it with you as you want, so please invite again,” I

said.

I only said it to be polite, but seeing Mikoko-chan’s face

light up, the guilt kicked in. Thinking she’d probably burst

into tears or rage if I said “just kidding” again, I just said, “See

you next ti,” instead.

She gave a big, energetic nod and spun on her heels.

Sothing ca to mind. “Hey, Mikoko-chan. Let just

say one more thing.”

“Hm? What is it?”

“Call a Vespa a Vespa. Calling it a scoot is just offensive, so

knock it off.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 9 2

“Wow, Ikkun giving an order?! It’s like a first-rate school

where you can wear your own clothes, but all the students

show up in uniforms anyway!”

“You got it or not?”

“Wow, you’re as scary as Muimi-chan . . .”

She seed to seriously be a little scared. But I had to say

it firmly or she wouldn’t get it.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll be careful from now on.” She made

her way down the hall. When she reached the cor, she

turned back around. “Hey! I’ve got sothing I want to say to

you too!”

“Huh? What?”

She took a big breath. “My last na is Aoii! Not Aoi! I

told you not to forget!”

I wanted to tell her I knew that, but then I realized that I

had introduced her to Miiko-san as “Aoi Mikoko.” Miiko-san

was the kind of person who was hard to correct once certain

information had entered her brain (thanks to , she still believed

Shakespeare was a flavor of a McDonald’s McShake), so

she had probably spent the morning calling her “Aoi” over and

over. Well, maybe not that many tis.

To it didn’t seem like the difference between Aoi and

Aoii was such a big deal, but I decided that was probably fairly

rude. Japanese are as proud of their last nas as Italians.

“Okay. I won’t forget again. I promise.”

“Okay then. Also . . .” She turned halfway back around. “I

don’t have a boyfriend,” she said softly, then quickly made her

way down the stairs as if trying to escape.

“Huh?” I probably looked more than a little confused.

Er . . .

What was that about?

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 9 3

She had probably heard that from Miiko-san as well. I did

seem to rember having that kind of conversation with her.

Sothing about Mikoko-chan not being able to stay in my

room because she had a boyfriend. But Miiko-san, she . . .

“I don’t go around regurgitating every little detail like that.”

Whoa. At so point she had appeared in front of .

“Looks like we’ve got a couple people yelling in this dilapidated

apartnt. Never mind that everyone can hear you

from their rooms; if you shout like that, the whole building’s

gonna co down.”

“Heh . . .”

“Now then, I have to go to work. Let’s hope that classmate

of yours learns to mind her p’s and q’s,” she said, and shuffled

her way down the hall. There was sothing frightening

about the fact that Rage was written on the back of her blue

jinbei. Maybe she and Mikoko-chan hadn’t gotten along so

well. Their nas were sort of similar and all.

But in that case, the na thing seed kind of dubious.

“Maybe she was actually awake last night . . .”

Sleeping while standing up is one thing, but walking

around while asleep isn’t all that easy. The power of the

human race pushed to its absolute limit isn’t sothing you

see every day. Maybe Mikoko-chan had actually been awake,

how lucid she may or may not have been at the ti notwithstanding.

Maybe that was why she knew I had mistaken her

na and said she had a boyfriend.

She probably just didn’t want to bother with making the

trip ho. But then she could’ve just said so without pretending

she was asleep. So people sure do strange things, I

thought as I went back inside.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 9 4

Now then.

It was precisely that evening when the story started getting

altogether tireso.

As I was alone in my room reading a fat book I had

checked out from the school library, a wild knocking ca at

my door. Now, it’s only natural to be irritated when soone

interrupts your valued quiet ti like this, but having beco

rather accustod to this kind of thing by now, I wasn’t particularly

angry. Wondering if it was that damned fifteen-yearold

brother coming to ask for money again, I opened the door.

“Oh.”

It was an older guy and a girl I had never seen before.

There was sothing particularly peculiar about the guy.

He was probably in his mid-to-late thirties, and not so much

tall as long-legged. Moreover, he had his hair slicked back.

Stranger still, even in this heat he was dressed in a black suit

and tie. It was a disturbingly bizarre way to be dressed. He

even had sunglasses on. If he had been a foreigner, I would’ve

been afraid it was the MIB here to erase my mory.

The woman, on the other hand, was dressed in a slightly

more normal suit and tight skirt. She had straight, black hair,

and was relatively pretty. But the look in her eyes was not ordinary.

Without a hint of the reservation normally expected

when eting soone for the first ti, her eyes t mine

with a penetrating, gouging gaze.

She took a step forward. “Have a look,” she said, flashing

a police badge. “I’m Sasa Sasaki of the Kyoto Police First

Investigative Division.” It was the kind of na that threat-

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 9 5

ened to make you bite your own tongue. Her parents must

have been awfully whimsical.

“Oh. Hey.”

I gave a little head bob for the ti being. The woman—

Sasaki-san—seed a bit surprised by my reaction. Maybe I

should’ve shown more surprise myself, but it didn’t take more

than a glance to tell that these two were obviously police officers.

The thought of these two stone-faced individuals being

anything other than police officers was, to , unimaginable.

The male officer chuckled to himself a bit and showed his

own badge, “Ikaruga Kazuhito from the sa division. Mind if

we co inside for a bit?” It was essentially coercion in the

form of a question. As a kid, I naturally felt the urge to defy

this coercion, but it didn’t look like this Kazuhito-san would

let it fly.

“Oh, uh, well, sure. It’s small, though.”

I invited them into the room. They seed surprised to

find that the inside of the room was just as small as I’d said,

but they passed it off with an impressive coolness. If I was

their boss, I would’ve given them a raise. Of course, not

being their boss, I didn’t give them squat.

“Please have a seat over there,” I said. I poured water into

two cups and placed them in front of the pair. Just as Mikokochan

had the day before, they ignored this completely.

“Allow to be frank,” Sasaki-san said, eyeing firmly.

“Emoto Tomo-san is dead.”

“Oh.” I prepared myself a glass of water and sat down

across from them. “Is that right?”

“ ‘Is that right?’ Is that all you have to say?” Sasaki broke

her poker face for the first ti.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 9 6

“Oh, well, I’m not much for expressing emotion. I’m totally

shocked on the inside, so don’t pay it any mind.”

That and, by this point, I was becoming kind of used to

this sort of thing.

But I really was shocked. This was half because Tomoechan

had been killed, and half because the instant I had seen

these two outside my door, I had guessed they were here to

talk about Zerozaki.

I was half-relieved, half-stupefied. It was like a contradicttion

of emotions swirling around in my gut.

“Umm, is it safe to assu that since there are detectives

oil the case, she didn’t die under ordinary circumstances? Not

to ntion that you’re from the First Investigative Division.”

Considering the kinds of cases First Investigative Divisions

usually handle.

“That’s correct.” Sasaki-san nodded. The seriousness of her

expression was pure and undiluted.

“So was it, by any chance, the ‘prowler’?”

She shook her head at my inquiry. “No.”

“Oh, really.”

It was like sothing had deflated. Part of was relieved.

I couldn’t help but wonder why, but I quickly switched trains

of thought.

“What happened, then?”

“Her body was found this morning. She had been strangled

to death.”

“Strangled?”

Strangulation.

Emoto Tomoe.

Murdered . . . ?

I felt my heart going cold.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 9 7

Just how many people had I seen die? How long had it

been since I stopped counting dead friends? My first encounter

with death was before I could even rember.

“It’s been about a month since the last one, huh? That’s got

to be a new record.”

Sasaki-san gave a sideways look. It was entirely different

from the kind of sideways looks Mikoko-chan gave , a

purely intellectual pose completely devoid of any adorable

charm. Then again, in my whole life, I had never seen a pose

that was both intellectual and adorably charming, whether it

be from a male or a female.

“Did you say sothing?”

“No, just talking to myself. I do that a lot. They say I’m just

a nineteen-year-old soliloquy that can dress itself and walk

around.”

Although Sasaki-san looked satisfied with this answer, she

didn’t crack so much as a smirk.

Suddenly I noticed that Kazuhito-san had been closely

monitoring my expression. I kept quiet.

Interesting.

That explained the need for sunglasses. Sasaki-san was in

charge of doing the talking. Kazuhito-san was the observer. It

was marvelous nonsense. A true masterpiece.

It seed I was a pri suspect.

“I guess that makes sense. I was with her all night.”

“Did you say sothing?”

“No, just your plain old, everyday nonsense.” I sat myself

up straight. Not that I was nervous, but maybe it was ti to

start getting a little more serious. “So if she was killed, who

killed her?” I asked.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 9 8

“That’s currently under investigation. To tell you the truth,

that’s the reason we’ve co here today,” Sasaki-san said.

“Then tell ,” I wanted to say, but I refrained from provoking

her.

“You were in Emoto-san’s apartnt from about six in the

evening to midnight. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Just to check, would you tell us the nas of the other

people present during that period of ti?”

“Umm.” Good luck, mory. “Emoto Tomoe-san, Atemiya

Muimi-san, Aoi . . . no, Aoii Mikoko-san, and Usami Akiharukun.

And then .”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You arrived with Aoii-san. Is that correct?”

“Yes. Aoii-san first ca to my place—here, I an—

then we went to Emoto-san’s place together. It was around

six p.m.”

“More specifically? Was it before six or after?”

“Before.”

She was barraging with questions. The limitations of

my mind’s processing speed had been surpassed long ago, and

my head was spinning.

“So all of the guests were there at that ti . . ."

“Please wait a minute,” I interrupted. “I can’t settle down

and focus if you keep throwing out questions one after another

like that. I think I ntioned that, but this all has a

little mixed up.”

“Oh, sorry about that,” Sasaki-san said. It was the most

unapologetic apology of all ti.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 9 9

I spent the next hour responding to her assault of

questions, divulging every last detail of the previous night’s

events. The things we talked about during the party. The

atmosphere of the party. My going to the convenience store

with Muimi-chan. Returning. Akiharu-kun and Muimi-chan

leaving at around eleven o’clock. Akiharu-kun giving Tomochan

a present just before that. The neckstrap. My talk with

Tomo-chan after that. Leaving the apartnt with Mikokochan

in tow. The phone call from Tomo-chan around the ti

we reached Nishiôji Nakadachiuri. Leaving Mikoko-chan with

Miiko-san because she appeared to be sleeping (whether it

was the truth or not, I didn’t know). And then, sleeping.

Mikoko-chan’s short visit in the morning. The rest of the day,

which I spent reading.

I didn’t bother ntioning the intense pressure of having

Kazuhito-san peering over Sasaki-san’s shoulder the whole

ti when she was already plenty scary on her own. We were

just sitting and talking, but I felt like I had wasted a great deal

of energy. And then there was Sasaki-san’s brilliant last line.

“Okay, so far this pretty much matches what we’ve already

heard.”

Boy, she was super.

The string of questions seed to have co to an end for

the ti being. “Hmm,” Sasaki-san said with a perplexed look.

But sothing about it seed like an act. If Mikoko-chan

could be called a person of no façades, this woman, on the

other hand, was a person of nothing but façades, to the point

that they appeared to be her true personality. She certainly

wouldn’t be the easiest person in the world to deal with.

“So how about that phone call?” she said with a finger to

her temple. “She really didn’t say anything? According to

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 0 0

Aoii-san, Emoto-san specifically asked her to pass you the

phone, from which one could deduce that she had sothing

to say to you.”

“She began to say sothing, but she didn’t. She just said

‘never mind,’ and hung up.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“And it was definitely Emoto-san on the phone?”

“Yes. I never mistake voices of people I know.”

She exchanged glances with Kazuhito-san behind her. It

looked like they were done questioning and about to be on

their way, but I couldn’t just sit idly by in silence.

“Umm, Sasaki-san, may I ask a question?”

“Huh?”

Her poker face broke down once again, naturally. Having

had a younger boy suddenly address her by her first na, it

would’ve been stranger if she hadn’t been surprised.

“Sothing’s been bothering .”

“Uh-huh . . .” She exchanged another glance with Kazuhito-san.

He responded with nothing more than the slight

drop of his jaw. Apparently a sign of consent; Sasaki-san

turned back toward . “Okay.”

This consent was most likely not spurred by sympathy for a

boy whose classmate had just been murdered, but by the

an-spirited notion that they could use my question to see

into . Not that I cared.

“Um . . . by any chance, was Aoii-san the one who discovered

the body?”

“That’s correct,” she answered coolly, providing no further

explanation. It seed they had no intention of telling

anything more than necessary to answer my questions. Of

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 0 1

course, they probably wouldn’t answer all of my questions

either.

So I was right, after all. She had gone to drop off Tomochan’s

birthday present, but there had been no answer. She

tried calling, but nobody picked up. The door to the building

had an autolock, but surely that was easy enough to get

around. All she had to do was follow one of the residents

inside. In that sense, it hardly even passed as a lock.

Hmm . . .

Mikoko-chan.

How must she have felt at that ti? She was always so

full of emotion. What could she have possibly felt at a ti

like that?

“Maybe I should’ve gone with her. . . .”

But then again, how could I have known? Besides, I wasn’t

sure I would’ve been much help even if I had gone along. I

wasn’t worth that much. I might have ended up just making

her angry.

“Is that your only question?”

“No, I’ve got a few more. What was the ti of death?”

“We’ve determined that it was soti between eleven

p.m. on the fourteenth and three a.m. on the fifteenth.”

“In that case . . .” Mikoko-chan and I had left her apartnt

at midnight, which ant that the cri must have

occurred between midnight and three a.m. “Er, and you say

she was strangled, correct? There wasn’t a knife involved or

anything?”

“That’s what I said.” She narrowed her eyes at my ntioning

of the word knife. Of course I didn’t tell her, not even

with my eyes, that I knew a certain knife-wielding killer.

“Was it a rope?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 0 2

“It was a thin piece of cloth. She most likely died instantly

from vascular compression. I doubt she suffered much.”

This was most human thing Sasaki-san had said so far. But

to , whether Tomo-chan suffered or not was relatively

trivial. Either way, she was dead.

I knew what it was to die. It isn’t death that people fear:

It’s nothingness. Pain is nothing more than a peripheral addon,

despair nothing more than decoration.

“Um, have you already gone to see everyone else?”

“Everyone eke?” Sasaki-san replied, even though she knew

damn well what I ant.

“Everyone who was gathered at Emoto-san’s place last

night. Usami-kun, Atemiya-san, and Aoii-san.”

I asked this without any particular expectation. I figured

she probably wouldn’t even answer. But to my surprise, she

answered imdiately.

“Yes, we have,” she said. “We’ve finished questioning all of

them. Your address was a little hard to find, so we ended up

coming here last.”

“What was everyone doing during that window of ti

when Emoto-san was killed?”

One more step. I cautiously took another step forward.

Sasaki-san’s lips curled up into a vague smirk. “Usami-san

and Atemiya-san say they spent the night singing karaoke in

Shijôkawara-machi. As for Aoii-san, well, it probably goes

without saying.”

It did. Mikoko-chan was staying with Miiko-san in the

room next door. I felt a little relieved. If you could believe

Sasaki-san’s claim, that ant that the top three suspects all

had alibis. Akiharu-kun and Muimi-chan could only account

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 0 3

for each other, so their alibi wasn’t exactly watertight, but it

was enough to loosen any suspicions toward them.

I felt the pressure of Kazuhito-san’s gaze grow even

stronger.

“Tch . . .”

How unseemly.

Much too late, I broke eye contact with the two of them.

Dammit. They had set up to feel at ease. They had

caused to let my guard down. I had been careless. These

two detectives aside, you were never supposed to let your

guard down around a police officer.

Shit . . . what had they seen?

“Is that all, then?” Sasaki-san asked without a hint of

change in her tone.

“Oh, no. One more.”

If I had ever known failure, surely this was that ti.

Kazuhito-san’s penetrating gaze was minute subtlety compared

to what I was about to face.

But it was a subtlety that had flustered enough to ask a

question I didn’t even have to ask, a question that I shouldn’t

have asked.

“Who do you suppose did it?”

It was a question that had already been answered. And I

had gone and repeated it.

“That’s currently under investigation,” Sasaki-san answered

with a aningful gaze—and the smile of a predator who had

just bagged its prey. She rose to her feet. “Pardon us for intruding

for so long. I think we’ll be back again later to talk

more,” she said, placing her calling card on the floor. “If you

rember anything else, please give us a call.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 0 4

I took the card in my hand. It gave a number for the prefectural

police as well as her own cell phone number.

“Well, take care, Mr. Student,” Kazuhito-san said with a

smirk, and began to make his way out of my room.

Interesting . . . so he was the real faker. I had committed

such a fatal misstep that I didn’t even deserve to call myself a

passive bystander anymore. I had completely mixed up the

roles of the two detectives.

In other words, it was Kazuhito-san who was rushing

along while Sasaki-san had been absorbing everything I said.

And what’s more, Sasaki-san had purposely let down her

guard and invited to attack.

The gall. The utter audacity.

“Oh, by the way,” Sasaki-san said as if just rembering

sothing. “About your alibi. For the ti being, it’s been

confird by your neighbor, Asano-san. She said you can hear

people walking down the hallway from inside the rooms.”

She flashed a refined smile. This was essentially a

checkmate. No, this didn’t even make for a match.

She even had the nerve to throw in this little scrap of

compassion at the end there.

Well, son of a bitch.

I don’t know if it was because I hadn’t dealt with them for

a long ti, but I had completely underestimated the Japanese

police. Did my arrogance know no bounds? Who the hell

did I think I was?

It was the first ti I had felt such defeat since my run-in

with that redheaded private contractor.

I chewed my lower lip. “Kazuhito-san,” I said to him as he

was leaving.

“Hm?” He looked back.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 0 5

“If you were better-looking, you’d be a dead ringer for

Matsuda Yûsaku.”

“Guess that ans I’m not a dead ringer for Matsuda

Yûsaku.”

It was a bull’s-eye answer. My last hopeless jab at him had

been a big whiff, and with that, the two detectives were on

their way. I cleared away the cups and plopped myself onto

the floor.

It had been a decisive defeat. I hadn’t felt this sensation in

a month, and I hadn’t felt it this strongly in a whole year. But

in this case I could just abandon the emotion. When you

thought about the fact that soone had just died, it was all

too trivial.

“Tomo-chan . . .”

I tried whispering the na aloud. The first thing to co

to mind was our conversation from the previous night.

“Have you ever felt like, as a human, you’re damaged

goods?”

Now, now, Tomo-chan, that’s not the sort of thing one admits

out loud, isn’t it?

It’s better to not know things; it helps us go on living. As

long as we’re not too aware of ourselves, we can live in happiness.

You might compare us to an airplane that’s lost its

engine and wings. We’re nothing but insignificant nobodies

who can only soar like crows who can’t call out. Once you

start questioning things, it’s all over.

It’s not about denial. It’s about ignorance.

“You can get killed asking questions like that.” As soone

with experience, it wasn’t my job to just dish out empty

words of condolence. “If you put your mind to it, it’s only

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 106

natural . . . whether you’re a person like us or not . . . Or rather,

if you don’t put your mind to anything, that is.”

Having realized these things myself long ago, I was now a

person living without purpose, just as Tomo-chan had been

living a life without aning.

I closed my eyes.

And I opened them.

“Well, so much for mind over matter.”

I swiftly rose to my feet.

Now then.

What to do now? There was nothing I was supposed to do,

but plenty of things I wanted to. For , this was a fairly rare

condition.

First, I took out my cell phone. I checked the call history,

then began to dial Mikoko-chan’s number. But halfway

through, I stopped myself.

“Seriously, who the hell do I think I am?”

This was utter and complete nonsense. If I did call Mikokochan,

what did I possibly have to say to her?

So I put off calling her. At that mont, I just didn’t have

the right words to say to her.

“In that case . . .”

First things first. I cleared my phone and began reentering a

phone number. It was the one and only phone number I knew

by heart. With the phone at my ear, I tried to rember how

long it had been since we’d talked.

She picked up imdiately.

“Ohhh! Ii-chan! A long ti indeed, old friend! Do you

still love ?”

Her hyperness dwarfed Mikoko-chan’s by a factor of about

twelve; unlike Mikoko-chan, once you removed her stopper,

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 0 7

the gushing would never end. If you let her alone, she would

shoot all the way up to Heaven like the Tower of Babel.

“What oh what oh what oh what is wrong? You never call

! This mont is monuntal! It’s the Hiji Castle! It

must be a diversionary tactic! Hyaooo! I wanna take a photograph

to record it, but a photograph can’t capture sound so

there’d be no point! Therefore, comnce audio recording!”

“You don’t have to bother with the audio recording.”

I made an effort to keep my cool.

Muimi-chan had asked if it was tough keeping up with

Mikoko-chan’s hyperness, but as I had told her, compared

with Kunagisa, Mikoko-chan was pretty much a piece of cake.

If Mikoko-chan was happy-go-lucky, then Kunagisa Tomo

was happy-go-crazy.

“Tomo, are you free much these days?”

“Nope! More on the busy side. Extrely occupado. My

processing power is facing an imminent ltdown! Ergency

mory expansion! Defrag imperative! I’m going to freeze!

Oh my God, it’s happening! It’s happening! Present progressive

form! Please reboot!”

“Is it this Kyoto prowling serial killer case?”

“Bingo! Wowww! You’re like Maki-chan! Or the red contractor!

Kyahahahahaha! Return of the ESP! And forever!

Mankind’s strongest! This is the end!”

“Sorry, Tomo, could you dial it down a notch?”

“Huh? What’s wrong? Well, whatever. Yep, it’s the Kyoto

prowling serial killer case! But you know what? It’s not going

the way I expected! This darn case! Hurdles! Serious hurdles!

Surely the killer is the reincarnation of Dread Jones! Wahaha!”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 108

“Let’s make a deal, Kunagisa Tomo,” I said. “I’ll give you

so information on this Kyoto prowler case. You’ll give

information on a certain murder that’s co up.”

“Huh?”

She thought for a mont. I knew she wouldn’t ask

why I had information on the prowler case or why there was a

murder case I was interested in. I believed in her, and she

trusted .

Unnecessary explanations.

Excess clarifications.

Wasted words.

Inane questions.

Distracting chatter.

The very best thing about Kunagisa was that she had no

use for any of these things.

“Ehh, I don’t like this word deal, Ii-chan.”

“How’s bargain?”

“Awful.”

“Pact?”

“Almost there.”

“Conspiracy?”

“Not technically wrong, but sothing’s off.”

“Well, then what about a mutual complenting of each

other’s attributes?”

“Yeah, that’ll do,” she said happily.

Give or take.

At this point, I still hadn’t decided which.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 109

After finishing my call with Kunagisa, I went to visit Miikosan

next door. I knocked on her door.

“Yo,” ca her response. Several seconds later, the door

opened. As usual, she was dressed in a jinbei. It seed to

that if she was going to take such an avid interest in Japanese

clothing, she ought to get herself a nice, pretty kimono. It definitely

would’ve looked good on her.

“Can I help you?”

“Oh, I just wanted to thank you. They said you vouched

for my alibi.”

“I didn’t do anything remarkable. I just told the truth.”

“Yeah, but I created an unnecessary burden for you.”

“I don’t care. Happens all the ti . . . but you’ve certainly

dealt with your own fair share of nuisances, haven’t you?” She

sounded more amazed than concerned. “You’re like the man

of a thousand disasters. So what about that girl? Based on

what the authorities were saying, it sounds like she was involved

as well.”

“Well, in a manner of speaking . . .”

“Gotcha,” she nodded. “Well, then, how do you intend on

thanking ?”

“I’ll treat you to tea.”

This was literally an invitation to go have real tea at a teahouse,

not just a regular coffee shop. It was sort of a Kyoto

thing, or maybe just a Miiko-san thing.

“Does that co with dango?” Dango—those tasty rice

flour dumplings—went really well with green tea.

“It even cos with hiyashi shiruko.” Yes, and sweet red

bean soup, too!

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 1 0

“Where at?”

“The Ohara-ya in Gion.”

Miiko-san’s eyes imdiately lit up. “Hold on, I’ll get

ready.”

She shut the door. For what it was worth, she was considerate

enough to change into normal clothes if she was going

out with sobody else. That level of thoughtfulness made

her a pretty rare specin in my circle of acquaintances.

“And I’m back.” A minute later she was ready to leave. She

handed a car key. I flipped it over once in the palm of my

hand before clutching it tight.

And so eight o’clock in the evening rolled around. Tea with

Miiko-san had ended and I found myself walking between

Shijô and Oike on Kawara-machi Street. Miiko-san had already

driven her Fiat back to her apartnt.

“Don’t use just to kill ti and save on shoe leather.”

Those were the words she had left with.

She could see right through , all right. Miiko-san was

sharp, all right. But you had to hand it to her for accepting my

invitation anyway. She was a nice girl. Or maybe she just had

a sweet tooth.

I ca to a stop and entered a nearby karaoke spot.

“Welco,” the guy behind the counter said. “Party of

one?”

“Umm, I have a friend who should already be here.”

“May I have your friend’s na, please?”

“Zerozaki Hitoshiki.”

“Ah, Zerozaki-sama?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 111

He briefly entered sothing into his computer. “Okay,

that would be room twenty-four,” he said, flashing a

custor-servicey smile. I said my thanks and made my way

to the elevator. Room twenty-four was on the second floor. I

got off there and walked down the hall, checking the number

of each room.

“Dadadadadada dadadadadadadada! Dadadada! Dadadadadadadadadadadadadadadada!

Ah! Aaaahhhh!”

Just as I was wondering who was the bozo with the rusty

pipes, I realized it was coming from room twenty-four. I gave

a little shrug and opened the door without even knocking.

“Wha?”

Zerozaki stopped his belting once he noticed .

“Yo, Damaged Goods,” he said, waving a finger at . I entered

the room without reacting and took a seat on the sofa.

“Hey, Human Failure,” I said.

He placed down the microphone and used the remote

control to end the song.

“You can keep singing if you want. You’re paying for this,

right?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I’m not really all that into singing, to be

honest. And I sure as hell don’t like imitating other singers. I

just do it to kill ti.”

He sat down so that he was facing and sighed deeply.

“Haven’t seen ya for a day. But, like, it don’t really feel that

way.”

“Eh, I guess not.” I nodded.

To be honest, I was surprised. Until a mont ago, I didn’t

even think Zerozaki would be here. Sure, after our conversation

the day before yesterday—I an, yesterday morning—

we’d arranged to et again. “I’ll be at the karaoke joint, so

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 112

let’s et up there,” he had said. But I didn’t think he would

actually show up. I guess he probably thought the sa thing.

And that was no doubt the reason that I had co and the

reason he was here waiting.

The aning of the phrase used to waiting: Here too lay a

justified contradiction.

From there, we began talking about a variety of things,

none of which mattered in the least. It was just like the night

we had first crossed paths. Ridiculous philosophy, boring facts

of enlightennt, irrelevant views on life. At tis we veered

off-track a bit and got into discussions on music (“Guess the

one-hit wonder”) or literature (“What’s the trick to truly moving

your reader?”). None of it had any real point. It was as if

we were both just trying to check sothing.

“Say, Zerozaki,” I said sowhere around the four-hour

mark. “What’s it feel like to kill soone?”

“Huh?” he said, tilting his head at . His face looked

blank, as if he hadn’t been thinking of anything in particular.

“It’s not really the kind of thing that makes you feel this way

or that. I don’t really feel much of anything.”

“You don’t? It doesn’t feel good or refreshing or anything

like that?”

“Listen, dumbass, what do you think I am, so kind of

sicko?” he said with a heaping helping of condescension.

Committing grisly murders sure seed like a funny way of

not being a sicko, but I decided to hear him out.

“ ’Cuz, you see, it’s like this. I an, I am a murderer. But

I’m not what you would call a ‘lust murderer.’ That’s a tricky

distinction to make. I guess it doesn’t do any good for to

make that kind of claim myself anyway. In the end, it’s the

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 113

people around you who decide who you are. All I can do is go

along with it. I’m not really one for deep thoughts, you know.”

“Huh . . . yeah, I guess not. Okay, then how about I change

my question—what is murder to you?”

“Nothin’.”

I could find two anings buried in that word.

It was worth nothing.

And therefore, it cost nothing.

“Now here’s a question for you, D.G. What is death to

you?”

“When you flat-out ask like that, I’m at a loss. If I had

to answer, I guess I’d say it’s kind of like a battery running out

of juice.”

“A battery? You an like with the AA and stuff?”

“Yeah. Well, sothing like that. I guess you could say

battery power is like a life force or sothing. Which I guess

would make you and your body the insulator.”

“I’ve been called worse,” he said with a little laugh. He

seed to be truly enjoying himself. I wondered if I sounded

like him when I laughed.

“I guess my question was ambiguous,” I said. “How about

this, then? Do you understand why other people commit

murder?”

“Huh? That’s a bizarre one. But very you sohow. Let’s

see . . . nope.”

“You don’t?” I asked.

“Well, first of all, I don’t understand other people, period.

Whether or not they’re killers, and regardless of how evil they

may or may not be. Second of all, I don’t even understand

myself. I have no freaking idea what causes all that chaos and

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 1 4

confusion swirling around in my guts. So all I can say is no, I

don’t understand people who kill others.”

“I see your logic there.”

“I might add that murder was never particularly what I was

going for,” he said as if it really was just an afterthought.

“What does that an?”

“Well, this is going to get awfully conceptual, but in other

words . . . well, here’s an example.” He picked up the receiver

for the room phone. “Excuse , could we get two rans

please?”

Not much later, a staff mber ca in carrying ran.

“Eat up. I’m payin’,” he said, and took so noodles with

his chopsticks. “Now this is a al.”

“Yup. You didn’t even have to tell .”

“They say food, sleep, and sex are the three basic desires of

mankind. But why are we eating this al right now?”

“To ingest vitamins.”

“Yes. Without vitamins, people die. And thus eating food

brings pleasure. Sleeping feels good, too, and sex, well, that’s

obvious. Anything that you have to do to stay alive always

cos with pleasure.”

“Sure. That’s easy enough to understand. So?”

“Don’t rush . 'So? So? So?’ You sound like Akutagawa

Ryu-freaking-nosuke.”

“Huh? Wasn’t that Dazai’s thing?”

“It was Akutagawa, dammit. Dazai wrote about it in an

anecdote on Akutagawa.”

Whichever literary figure it was, I decided to once again do

as told and hear him out. He paused for a mont before

speaking, as if to build up the suspense.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 115

“Now let’s imagine soone who’s obsessed with eating. In

other words, soone who eats not simply to take in vitamins,

but because he’s mad for the sensation of eating itself; for the

beauty in the very act. The stimulation of his taste buds. The

pleasure of feeling the food pass through his mouth. The joy

of mastication. The ecstasy of feeling that mushed-up gook

flowing down his throat. The feeling of fullness nearly destroying

his satiety center altogether. The euphoria taking over

his brain. In other words, I’m talking about a fat guy,” he said,

laughing. ‘To a guy like that, vitamins or lack thereof are totally

irrelevant. The ans and the end have switched places

for him, so that his main goal is sothing subsidiary. Now

there’s your problem. Can you still say this guy is eating? No,

don’t answer. You and I both know the only possible answer is

no. What this guy is doing isn’t eating. He’s just eating the

concept of eating.”

“And you’re just killing the concept of killing? That’s a bit

of a stretch,” I said with a shrug. “It’s pretty perverse to try to

equate a natural appetite for food with the urge to kill. Are

you sure you don’t just have your priorities mixed up? Maybe

you’re mistaking killing for sothing else.”

“Ehh, that’s a tough one. It’s hard to say. I’ll say it again,

man—the act of killing itself was never my intention, nor was

the stuff that cos afterward. Y’know, the dismbernt.”

Then what the hell is your intention? Man, you’re a tough

guy to understand.”

“Not as much as you. I an, I know that I’m hard to understand.

I just said that. Anyway, in the beginning, I thought

I was in it for the thrill.”

“The thrill,” I said.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 116

“Yeah. You’ve heard of ‘high risk, high return’ before,

right? In Japanese, I think we say, ‘If you don’t go into the

tiger’s den, you don’t get no cub.’ With murder, the risk is

high, but the return is low, right? It hardly seems worth it. It’s

stupid. That’s why most murders are almost always cases of

people ‘going too far’ or ‘using too much force.’ They’re not

trying to kill the person, but before they know it, they’ve gone

and done it. However . . .”

He pulled a rather dangerous-looking blade from his vest

pocket. “This here is what they call a dagger. You grip it in

your fist like this. So the first person I killed, I stuck this thing

in his carotid artery and just tugged it to the side. This was an

inexplicable act of murder. I had no particular intention of

causing the person suffering or pain. In fact, it was a rather

pleasant way to die, if you ask . Now let just say right

now that by no ans was this a boastful act. I’m sure you

know this, but acts spurred by one’s pride are the most pathetic

actions a person can take. People who take pride in

causing harm are the lowest of the low. I’m just boasting

about my faults here. Seriously, all joking aside, that’s the only

kind of murder I can perform. Even when I went after you, on

the other side of the mirror.”

“Huh. You don’t say.”

“I do say. Like, let’s imagine that you and I ended up fighting

to the death again. Of course, logically speaking, it’s entirely

possible that you would kill . But in the one ti that

you could kill , I could kill you nine thousand, nine hundred

ninety-nine tis. Well, in reality you and I each only

have one life, but this is a taphor. At any rate, I can only

kill for the sake of killing. In other words, I can affirm that the

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 1 7

eight people I’ve killed up until now were not victims of

‘going too far.’ ”

Eight people. In two days, the body count had risen by

two. Well, I guess you could say that Zerozaki had gone about

living his life while I had been living mine.

“So am I an idiot? Maybe. After all, it’s not like I’m getting

anything out of killing these people. Well no, I guess I am

getting sothing. Whatever’s in their wallets,” he said.

One of the alarming details of the prowler case had been

that the victims’ money and valuables had been stolen. This

was a rare thing in cases like this, in which the murders

seed to have been committed for the thrill of it, but the

reason was simply that Zerozaki needed the money to support

his holess lifestyle.

Even his karaoke money was probably coming out of one

of those victims’ wallets. If you looked at it that way, even this

ran was tainted with sin, I thought as I slurped my noodles.

“But you could get that stuff just by working a normal job,

so it’s no reason to commit murder. If you think about the

effort that goes into killing one person, it makes a lot more

sense to just spend the day working sowhere instead. And

yet I choose murder. And therein lies my whole theory.”

“Ah, I get it. In other words, to Zerozaki Hitoshiki, the risk

is the return.”

“Yup. The ans and the end aren’t just swapped, but unified.

The act itself is the purpose. The purpose is the act. The

act is complete when you’ve carried out that purpose. This is

actually not a bad theory at all.”

“But how is that any different from just losing sight of your

purpose? It’s like having a guy who loves to read, so he fills his

room with books until it’s completely buried in them. But he

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 118

still keeps buying new ones. Whether he buys books or not is

up to him, but he’s got so many books in his room now that

even if he spent his whole life reading them, he’d never get

through them all. But he just keeps on buying and buying.”

“Hmm. Ahhh, ah-ah-ah, I get it I get it. You’re talking

about processing capacity. Once you’ve surpassed your processing

capacity, ans and end beco one and the sa.

It’s like Ishikawa Goemon said: ‘A splendid view, a splendid

view, even a thousand pieces of gold is too little to pay for the

beautiful sights of spring. I, Goemon, am worth ten thousand

ryô.’ Hmm. Yeah, maybe so,” he said with an impressed sigh

as he reclined into the sofa. “But you know, my man, even if

that is the case, it doesn’t have much to do with . You

know why? Because that theory I’ve been talking about is so

totally wrong to begin with. Risk equals return? Now there’s a

bullshit equation if I’ve ever heard one. I’m just having fun

with logic here.”

“Huh. So what are you getting at?”

“Well, this story is a little generic,” he said, leaning forward.

“But let’s go back to when I was just a little brat. You

were a little brat once too, huh? Well so was I. What kind of

brat was I? Well, I wasn’t particularly weird or anything. I

even believed in God. If I got smacked, it hurt. If I saw soone

else get smacked, it hurt. I had all your average sensibilities.

I wanted to bring happiness to the people near . I

knew gratitude. I knew unconditional affection for another

human being. That’s the kind of little brat I was. . . . But

sotis, I would just sit. Not to read a book or watch TV

or sothing. I would just sit. I’d be there resting my chin in

my hands, my mind up in la-la land, just sitting there. Sooner

or later I realized that during these tis, I would always

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 119

naturally start pondering how one kills a human being. The

first ti I realized what I was doing, I was seriously freaked

out. I an, I was pondering, examining how you kill a person

as if it was the most normal thing in the world. The idea that

this was really was the scariest thing,” he said.

“So it was sothing you discovered in yourself. But what

part of this story is supposed to be generic? It seems pretty out

there to . You’re saying that from birth, you’ve had an

innate proclivity to murder?”

“I said don’t rush . I thought that once myself, but that’s

not the case at all. I thought I was born with a murderous

mindset, with the urge to kill. But that’s not it. It’s that—and

this is where it gets generic—I’m attached to a rail.”

“A rail? What are you talking about?”

“It’s a taphor. You hear it a lot. People talk about life on

a track, right? You go through middle school, you go through

high school, you go through college, you enter society, you

support yourself with a salary so that you can bag a lover, and

then you depart from the world. That’s the track of life. Well,

similarly to that, I’m on the murderer’s track.”

“Sounds more like you’re off the track to .”

“Like you’re one to talk. Anyway, that’s not important.

The kind of track I’m talking about here isn’t necessarily the

one set up by society. It might be a track you’ve set for yourself.

Like, imagine there’s a kid who becos obsessed with

Ichiro in elentary school and decides he wants to be a baseball

player. In that mont, he makes a track for himself.”

“I see. So that ans we’re all on a track . . . except for

people who ‘drop out,’ I suppose.”

Except for people who have suffered a fatal blow.

Except for people who go off the rails.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 2 0

“Yup. I don’t know who laid down this track for . I

might have done it myself. Soone else might have. But one

thing I know for sure is that I’ve taken the track too far. I’ve

made it too far down without suffering that fatal blow, and

now there’s no stopping . I can’t even entertain the idea of

putting on the brakes.”

“Aha. So it just keeps going on and on.”

In other words, right now, he was in motion. And the him

in midmotion was entirely different from the him who had

first started running along this track.

“Yup. It’s like a curse from the past. And in my case, it’s

slowly killing . It may sound boring living life on a track

soone else has laid out, but you know, it doesn’t make any

difference who laid it out if it if you get sick of it midway

through. Not that I could just quit at this point. Too many

strings attached now.”

“Must be even tougher not having anyone to bla.”

“That’s right. Especially for an outcast like .”

“Might as well give it up. You may not break away from

the track, but you sure do break away from the rules.”

“Oh? Well you’re no Mother Teresa yourself, you know.”

“But I am a serious student at a university. I’m not like

you.”

“Doesn’t saying that depress you? It’s like looking into the

mirror and saying, ‘Who the hell are you?’ ”

“Exactly,” I said nodding.

“Anyway, it’s for that reason that I don’t view myself as a

murderer. Because killing isn’t my goal. You’ve heard of people

who ‘kill like it’s as simple as breathing,’ right? Well, for

, if I don’t kill, it becos hard to breathe. I’m just paying

the train fare for this track I got on long ago. Or it’s like I’m

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 2 1

perpetually repaying a loan. You could say I’m killing the act

of killing.”

“This is all becoming a little too idealistic and abstract for

. Can’t you put it more realistically?”

“Not really. I an, we’re talking about a vague concept

here. If you put it in realistic terms, the conversation would be

over with ‘I killed and dismbered soone tis eight.’ ”

“That’s true . . .” I sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

Talking with Zerozaki was interesting enough, and I had even

learned a thing or two, I suppose, but it wasn’t exactly useful

information. “Hmm. And here I thought a killer like you

would be the one most capable of understanding the heart of a

killer.”

Maybe I’d been wrong to assu that. After all, Zerozaki’s

MO and Tomo-chan’s cause of death were completely

different. I didn’t believe for a second that Sasaki-san had

given the whole scoop, but she had at least told that

Tomo-chan had been strangled with a thin piece of cloth.

anwhile, Zerozaki was cutting people up with a knife. The

similarities began and ended with the fact that both killers had

brought death to their victims.

Zerozaki killed people at random.

Tomo-chan’s killer had sought her out. It was most likely

the result of a grudge. Sothing spurred by a sticky, slimy,

disgusting personal relationship that had eroded away.

“Hah? Why do you say that?” he said.

“Well, it’s just that a classmate from my university was

murdered recently.”

“Murdered? Your classmate?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 2 2

“That’s what I said. Yeah, at first, I wondered if you had

done it, but it doesn’t match your style at all. They strangled

her with a piece of cloth.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s not my thing,” he said, waving his hands

with a grimace.

“So I thought. But I just figured one monster would understand

another.”

“You’re mistaken. And it’s such a you mistake. Monsters

don’t kill people; people do. And just as people don’t understand

monsters’ feelings, monsters don’t understand people’s.

It’s like comparing a platypus to the archaeopteryx.”

I didn’t know who was supposed to be the platypus and

who the archaeopteryx, but he was probably right. Guys like

Zerozaki were peculiar and dysfunctional, and that was why

they were so rare.

“So, what happened, then?” he said, sounding not particularly

interested. Figuring there was no need to keep it a secret,

I proceeded to tell him everything I had heard from Sasakisan.

I told him about Mikoko-chan, Tomo-chan, Muimi-chan,

and Akiharu-kun and about the birthday party. He occasionally

dropped in a brief remark or shook his head as he tried to

follow along with the story’s twists and turns, and just once,

he even flashed a look of concern.

“Hmm,” he said when I was finished. “I see. I see I see I

see. So that’s how it went down. So?”

“What do you an so?”

“So ans so.” He stared directly in the eye. I didn’t

answer him. This silence continued for a whole hour.

“Okay, I got it,” he eventually said, standing to his feet.

“Let’s go.”

“Huh? Where?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 2 3

“To Emoto’s place,” he said like with all the casualness of a

good friend inviting soone over to hang out. With that, he

made his exit. This was all going just as I had expected, I

thought. I rose from the sofa and followed him out, leaving

our half-eaten ran behind.

“But about that Aoii chick,” Zerozaki said apathetically as

we walked westward down Shijô Street. “Seems pretty obvious

that she’s got the hots for you.”

“What?” I couldn’t help but be surprised by this sudden

leap in our discussion.

It was already past midnight, aning it was now Monday,

the sixteenth. Even on Shijô Street, which was a major eastwest

road, traffic had grown sparse. Occasionally we passed a

group of college students probably coming ho after a night

of drinking, but the sidewalks were otherwise mostly empty.

I realized that the next day I had to go to school. And from

first period, no less. What’s more, it was my foreign language

class, where they always took attendance. And it looked to

like this was going to be another all-nighter.

“Eh, what were we talking about again?”

“That Aoii chick,” he said irritably, knitting his brow at .

“Hearing what you have to say about her, she’s got to have a

thing for you.”

“No way. What could’ve possibly given you a dumb idea

like that? That doesn’t even sound like sothing you would

say. I an, she’s already got a boyfriend anyway.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 2 4

“Oh wait, that’s right.” Co to think of it, she may or

may not have told that. “But still. I don’t think that’s the

case. I an she does seem to be fond of , but it’s like how

people are fond of animals. And even then, she probably sees

as an iguana or sothing in the reptile family. You know,

like ‘Aw, that’s . . . kind of cute.’ ”

“An iguana? If you’re an iguana, then that makes a chaleon,”

he said, and proceeded to laugh. “For example,” he

then said, imdiately switching back to his serious tone.

“She knew your address, right? That’s extrely suspicious

right there. Who bothers looking up the address of soone

they don’t even have a crush on?”

“She didn’t even have to. It was in the address log from

class.”

“Aha. You said it yourself, man. You were on vacation

when class started and you missed the first week of your . . .

general education, was it? Whatever that class was. Hence,

there was no way your address could’ve been recorded in that

log.”

“Oh.”

Now there was an oversight. I certainly didn’t rember

telling my address to anyone else, and that ant there was no

way the address of my ancient ruin of an apartnt building

could’ve been on the sheet. There wasn’t a single person at

Rokuikan who should’ve known where I lived.

“But Mikoko-chan claid she got it off the address list.

Was it just a misunderstanding? But misunderstandings like

that don’t happen, do they? So maybe she lied to .”

“Eh, not so much a lie as an excuse. She probably followed

you ho one day.”

“If she’d been following , I would’ve noticed.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 2 5

“Maybe. At any rate, she probably learned your address

through fairly illegitimate ans. She couldn’t tell you the

truth, so she just blurted out that thing about the address log.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So let’s think about this. Have you ever t a girl who

would go that far just to learn the address of so random

guy? You might not put it past a guy, but we’re talking about

a girl here.” He flashed an unsavory smile.

I let out a sigh of a laugh. “Don’t act like you know what’s

going on.”

“What can I say, it’s who I am.”

“But I really think you’re wrong about this. I can say that

for certain.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. And what are you basing this certainty

on?”

“Well, she acts like she hates .”

“Huh?” Zerozaki’s facial expression alone was enough to

make it clear that he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Co on now, at least rember the stuff you said yourself.

You just said Aoii was fond of you, didn’t you? So what the

hell are you squawking about now?”

“Hang on, this isn’t a contradiction. I have sort of a dualistic

or Boolean view of the world. Shall I explain? In other

words . . . like, take the cars on this road. Let’s say there’s a car

going twenty-five miles per hour.”

“Yeah. You want to tell you if that’s fast or slow?”

“Yeah. Which do you think?”

“It’s slow, isn’t it? At this ti of night they could go faster

than that.”

“Okay, then let’s imagine the sa car going at full speed. I

don’t know much about the limitations of automobiles, but

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 2 6

let’s just say it’s going one hundred miles per hour at full

throttle. Is that fast?”

“Fast works for .”

“Finally, let’s imagine the car when it’s at rest. How about

this ti?”

He gave a restless shrug. “It’s at rest. What the hell do you

think?”

“Just humor .”

“Well, slow, I guess. You sure can’t call sothing that’s

not moving fast.”

“That’s right. Now let’s go back to the initial question—is

twenty-five miles per hour slow or fast? I would express it like

this: ‘It’s twenty-five fast and seventy-five slow.’ ”

“Ahh.” He gave a convinced nod. The cheek on the tattooed

side of his face curled up into a slight smirk. “So the

way you see it, what does Aoii think of you?”

“Well, to give an approximation, she likes seventy and

hates fifty. Approximately.”

“I guess that doesn’t add up to her liking you twenty.”

Indeed. The logic of arithtical operations didn’t apply

when it ca to human emotions. Besides, these numbers

were highly prone to fluctuate, making such calculations troubleso.

They could only be expressed as averaged values.

“Okay, so what about you, now?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“You. How much do you like and hate Aoii?”

“I like her zero and hate her zero.”

“Whoa . . .” He pulled back a bit in surprise. “My God,

man . . . you’re brutal.”

“You should talk.”

“Cram it, Captain Passive.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 2 7

I liked her zero and hated her zero. You might call it

apathy.

Sure, my words might have been a little exaggerated and

laced with apathy, but that didn’t an I wasn’t telling the

truth.

Because after all, I’m such a cold, dried-out person that I

can kill a person just by living. Indeed, I was as brutal as Zerozaki

made out to be. I simply couldn’t take any type of

assertive action for the sake of a stranger.

“This is totally . . .”

“Totally.”

“A masterpiece,” Zerozaki said, laughing.

“Nonsense.” I didn’t laugh.

“Well, putting all that textbook mumbo-jumbo aside, don’t

you have the hots for anyone?”

“Huh. I don’t really know.”

“Even though they’re your emotions?”

“Because they’re my emotions.”

“Ah, I get it. Because you’re the passive spectator. You

understand other people better than you understand yourself.

I guess they say you can’t be your own observer. It’s like that

thing . . . what was it again? The uncertainty principle? Quantum

chanics? Doppelgänger’s cat?”

“ ‘Doppelgänger’ can’t be right.”

“Ahh, who was it? It’s math, so it’s gotta be a German guy,

but . . .”

After that mildly racist remark, he sat and thought to himself

for a minute. But ultimately, he couldn’t seem to recall

whose cat it was. “Goddammit,” he said, slapping himself in

the left cheek. This seed to relieve him.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 2 8

“Well then,” he said. “Here’s my conclusion: You’ve got a

fucking terrible attitude.”

“That’s probably correct. But. . .”

But.

What could I possibly have intended to follow that up

with? Might I have been considering saying sobody’s na?

Of course I was. But whose na that could’ve been, I don’t

know.

“It’s all just nonsense in the end.”

“Um, is that supposed to be, like, your escape line?” He

slumped his entire upper body dramatically as if my incredibly

delayed response had completely knocked the wind out of

him. Though not to the sa extent as Mikoko-chan, it

seed Zerozaki was also one for big reactions.

“Eh, then again, I guess I’m kind of like that too. Or rather,

I am like that,” he said.

We arrived at the Nishiôji-Shijô intersection. The Hankyû

Saiin Station was visible to the south. Of course, the final

train had long since made its stops, and the area surrounding

the station was desolate. We turned north. If we continued up

as far as Maruta-machi, we’d arrive at Tomo-chan’s apartnt.

“Maybe we should’ve hailed a cab after all. We’re still only

halfway there.”

“It’s a waste of money. That is to say, I don’t have any

money. Or were you going to pay?”

“Nope. There isn’t a single student in Kyoto who rides in

cabs.”

“Huh. I’m not a student, so I wouldn’t know.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 2 9

Suddenly a doubt rose in my mind. I thought of Sasakisan’s

stern gaze for so reason as I asked Zerozaki my question.

“Are you on a most-wanted list or anything?”

“I don’t think so. Nobody’s ever tried to talk to , and

nobody’s ever followed . I’ve done my share of following

other people, though,” he boasted. It amazed that soone

who stood out this much—I an, he had a tattoo running

down half his face; maybe that kind of thing was normal

in Tokyo, but he was probably the only one of his kind in all

of Kyoto—hadn’t been arrested yet. But then again, if you

thought about it, whether he stood out or not probably didn’t

make much of a difference in a case like this.

“So we’re going to Emoto’s place from here, right? But . . .”

“What?”

“In reality, you can already pretty much deduce what happened,

right? I an, who the killer is and stuff.”

“Deduce?” I parroted his word back at him. Could I really

figure out the answer based only what I knew at this point?

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I an it when I say I don’t

really know what happened. I’m not so mystery novel or

movie . . .”

Detective.

The redheaded private contractor.

“Detective.”

“Well, of course not,” he said with surprising plainness.

“But I guess I also an it when I say that I don’t think it’s

beyond figuring out. She was strangled to death. Inside a

room. The estimated ti of death leaves a fairly narrow window.

The suspects all have alibis. We just need a few more

clues.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 3 0

And it just so happened that I currently had Kunagisa collecting

that very thing. And I myself was on my way to do the

sa.

“Is it possible that it was just a random robbery?”

“Well, technically it’s possible, but the cops don’t seem to

think that’s the case.”

There was sothing very unordinary about both Sasakisan

and Kazuhito-san. It was hard to believe they were the

kind of people who would be sent out just to handle a simple

burglary-homicide case. Of course, that was just my hunch.

“Mmm.” Zerozaki's eyes drooped lazily. “But I don’t think

you really have to go out of your way to investigate things. Is

there so logical reason for doing this?”

“Not especially. Listen, nobody's making you co along.

Why don’t you go cut up so more people?”

“Nah, that’s okay. I’m not in the mood for that tonight.”

He took my suggestion more seriously than I had intended.

“Besides, I was the one who suggested we go in the first

place.”

anwhile, we’d arrived at Tomo-chan's apartnt building.

Apparently the police had already checked out, leaving

the area as desolate as the train station. We made our way

through the automatic door and into the main lobby.

Now then.

“Ah, right. You need an autolock card key to get in.”

“What now?”

“Here’s what we do.” I walked a step ahead of Zerozaki

and entered a random room number into the intercom.

“Hello?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 3 1

“Um, this is the person from room three oh two. I’m so

sorry to bother you, but I went and locked my own card in the

room. Would you mind opening the door for ?”

“Oh, certainly.”

K-chunk, the glass door said as it opened up.

“Thank you,” I said to the complete stranger, and Zerozaki

and I quickly made our way into the building.

“You don’t mind lying just like that, huh?” he said.

“What can I say, it’s who I am.”

We got into the elevator and went up to the sixth floor. As

we walked down the sixth floor hall, I produced so thin

white gloves from my pocket and slid them onto my hands.

“Not to make this awkward, but . . . were you prepared

with those gloves this whole ti?”

“Yup. I planned this whole thing.”

“Wow,” he said as he pulled his own pair of gloves out of

his vest pocket and switched them with the fingerless ones he

was currently wearing. Of course, a guy like him probably just

carried gloves around with him every day.

We arrived in front of Tomo-chan’s room. When I tried

the knob, the door turned out to be locked, as expected.

“So how do you propose we clear this one?”

“Actually, I hadn’t thought about it. Any ideas?”

“I gotcha,” he grumbled, pulling a thin knife from his vest

pocket. Or perhaps drill was a more accurate word for it. He

jamd it into the keyhole. He rattled it left and right until

we heard the click of sothing settling into place. Then he

pulled the knife back out, spun it around once in his hand,

and closed it back up in his vest.

He turned the knob. “It’s open.”

“This can’t be safe, can it?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 3 2

“Not even a little bit. The killer could be anywhere.”

We shrugged and went in anyway.

We walked down the hall between the kitchen and bathroom,

and passed through the door at the end. The room

hadn’t changed much from my Saturday visit. It looked like

so things had been slightly moved around, but that was

probably owed to the cri-scene investigation.

And then there was the center of the room. White strips of

tape ford the shape of a person.

“Wow,” Zerozaki said with awe. “So they really do that. It’s

like sothing out of a TV show or a manga. Hey, that Emoto

girl had about the sa build as .”

“Looks like it.”

Tomo-chan was pretty small, even for a girl, but for a guy,

Zerozaki was ridiculously petite. They weren’t exactly the

sa size, but they could’ve easily fit each other’s clothing.

“Incidentally, I prefer tall girls,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yup. But tall girls don’t like short guys, do they?”

“But none of your six victims were tall girls.”

“Who goes around killing the girls he’s into, idiot?” he said

angrily. It looked like I had touched on a difficult subject.

Nevertheless.

My gaze fell back on the tape on the floor. Tomo-chan

must have been strangled and then collapsed on the floor here

in this position, asphyxiated. But this tape hardly captured the

reality of it.

I looked back over at Zerozaki to find him imrsed in

silent prayer. His eyes were closed, with his hands pressed together

in front of his chest.

I deliberated for a mont before deciding to do likewise.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 3 3

Afterward, I once again began inspecting the area around

the tape.

“Hm.”

There was sothing on the right hand of the human

shape. It was dark, so I couldn’t see it very well, but we

couldn’t just go turning on the light, either. I managed to

make out a small ring made out of black tape.

It seed this was so sort of mark they had made during

the investigation.

“What’s this? Maybe sothing was on the floor here?”

“No, look closer,” Zerozaki said, crouching down next to

. “Sothing’s written here.”

“Dammit, I wish we had a little more light.”

“Just wait a little longer. Your eyes’ll adjust soon enough.”

It assud that we were working at our leisure here, but

right now that was our only option.

In ti, my eyes did begin to adjust.

Thin carpet. On its surface there were red letters.

“x over y?” we both said.

The letter x was written in cursive handwriting. Then a

diagonal line below it. Then the letter y in the sa cursive

handwriting. It was ssy writing, so you had to struggle to

make it out. But it didn’t seem like it could’ve said anything

else.

“What’s x over y?”

“Beats .”

“Is it red because it’s written in blood?”

“Nah, seems to be so kind of oil-based ink.”

Strange writing next to the body's right hand. Could this

have been her dying ssage?

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 3 4

“But hey, we don’t actually know that this is the right

hand. We can’t tell if the body was faceup or facedown just by

looking at this tape.”

“Ah, right. But, Zerozaki, I don’t think she could've written

this if she was facedown. Not that she was necessarily the

one who wrote it.”

“Yeah, that’s right. There’s still the possibility that the

killer wrote it. So what’s this x over y bullshit all about? Math?

But this isn’t an equation. You can’t take it any further than

this.”

“Maybe whoever wrote it didn’t finish.”

“If that’s the case, we're pretty much at a dead end. I can’t

even imagine what they were getting at with this,” he said as

he walked over to a cor of the room and slid down against

the wall. “I’m sleepy,” he said with a big yawn. “Figure anything

out?”

“Just the fact that this may or may not have been her dying

ssage is a pretty good haul. Now, then . . .”

I scanned my eyes around the room. There were no signs of

a struggle. As far as I could see, nothing was broken or missing.

“Yeah, I don’t think this was just a burglary,” I said. Was it

all because of a grudge after all? But what could a girl who

had just turned twenty years old two days ago have done to

have inspired such hatred?

I continued examining the room as I pondered. Of course,

the police had probably already done this with complete thoroughness,

but right now it was necessary to see the cri

scene with my own eyes, in order to fill in the gaps in my

imagination. For later on.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 3 5

“What now?” Zerozaki said as he watched moving

around. Judging from his current state, it didn’t look like he

intended to help any further. Not that I was expecting him

to do anything. I’m not such an idealist that I would expect

anything from a re water reflection.

“You seem strangely comfortable doing all this,” he said.

“Well, I've got experience.”

“What could a twenty-year-old have possibly experienced in

his life to have broken him so badly as a human being? I can’t

even imagine,” he said.

“You should talk. But I guess I’ll humor you anyway. I

guess you could say I haven’t lived a very respectable life. Or

no, my life has been plenty respectable, but I haven’t been.”

“Hmm. You know, I don’t like myself very much,” he said

plainly to my back. “But seeing you, I realize I’m not so bad.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth. I may be a

screwup, but I’m not as bad as you. When I look at it that

way, it’s kind of a relief.”

“I wonder.”

“I wonder.”

“Say . . . why do people die anyway?” he asked.

“Because you kill them.”

“Well, yeah, but I an aside from that. Umm, what is it

again? Apoptosis? Darwinism? Genes? Cancer cells? Cell

suicide? All that good stuff. It’s like the termination point of

our functionality.”

“Co to think of it, I heard once that the longest a

human can live is sowhere around one hundred ten years,

regardless of the era or region.”

“Huh.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 3 6

“I an, the bottom line is that living creatures have a lot

of diversity. But you know, whether you live a long ti or

not doesn’t really make a difference. I don’t really think

there’s even much point in living two hundred or three hundred

years. I’ve lived for nineteen years and two months up

until now, but quite frankly. I’ve had enough.”

“You’re tired of it?” he asked.

“Well, it’s more like I just can’t endure it anymore. I’m still

okay for now, I guess, but if things go on like this . . . yeah, in

another two or three years, my ability to process reality will

have reached its limit.”

“But isn’t that just one of those things? Like, I’ll bet you

thought the sa thing when you were fourteen, right? Like,

‘in another few years I’ll probably have committed suicide.’ ”

“Yeah, I did think that. But I didn’t have the balls to go

through with it.”

“Chicken.”

“Yeah, well. I always wanted to be a bird.”

“Not a chicken, I bet. They can’t even fly.”

“I’m joking. But I do think this: There isn’t a person on this

earth who’s lived for ten or twenty years without pondering

God and death, unless he’s just so slaphappy nut.”

“God and death, huh?”

“Yeah. But before he can contemplate those things, he has

to have learned about life. So knowledge of life is necessary

in order to contemplate death, so you have to study life before

you can even begin to think about the fact that it will one day

end. It’s like that saying: ‘If you want to kill soone, your

victim had to have been alive to start with.’ No matter how

much effort I might exert, I can’t kill John Lennon.”

Nor could I kill Emoto Tomoe.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 3 7

“Now tell , Zerozaki. What does it an to be alive?”

“That your heart’s still beating?” he said off the top of his

head.

“Wrong,” I answered. “Showing signs of life and being alive

are not the sa thing. But that aside, what if there existed a

person who had experienced death before life? What kind of

human being would he turn out to be? Could we even call

him a human being? A living creature who could reminisce

about his own passing, who had mourned his own death before

life even began. What would we label such an existence?”

“I guess that would be Death himself. It would have to be,

or else . . .” His eyes seed to be searching for the right

words. He pointed a finger at with an awkward look on his

face. No words ca out. To be sure, they probably didn’t

need to.

“Eh, it’s just another mind-over-matter thing,” I surmised.

An escape line.

“Say, man. I know I already asked, but is there so reason

you’ve gone to all this trouble—I an, illegally entering her

apartnt, not to ntion the fact that you’re supposed to be

the passive observer type—just to gather information about

the murder?”

“Yeah, there is,” I answered. I ant to say no, but for

so reason a confirmation leapt out of my mouth. I wasn’t

sure which one I really ant.

“Huh . . . you said yourself that you don’t like or dislike

Aoii, right? Then why should you do anything for her? And it

seems to that you only t those other three through her,

like little add-ons.”

He slapped his hands together as if he had just thought of

sothing. “Is it for Emoto Tomoe?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 3 8

Tomo-chan.

A tragic figure, brutally murdered just after celebrating her

own birthday.

That alone wouldn’t have moved , normally. If starving

children on the other side of the world were being shot to

death, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it. If so giant

earthquake in so faraway country killed tens of thousands

of people, I wouldn’t feel a thing. Whether or not a string of

murders occurred in the town where I lived, it was no matter

to . I just didn’t have that kind of spirit; it wasn’t much

more to imagine that I wouldn’t feel much sadness or despair

over the passing of even a nearby acquaintance.

However, there were always exceptions.

“I was hoping I’d get to talk to Emoto Tomoe just a little

more.”

Zerozaki said nothing to this.

“That’s all, though, really.”

“I see,” he nodded. “Well, whatever the case, what we have

here is a masterpiece for sure.”

Indeed, he was right that there seed to be no compelling

reason for to go to all this trouble. It wasn’t like I was

being sobody else, but it certainly wasn’t my usual style.

I realized I was being stupid. I just didn’t think I was

wrong.

“Ahh,” Zerozaki yawned again.

“If you’re bored, you can go.” That is to say, get lost.

But he shook his head. “It’s okay. Besides, how are you

planning to lock up without ?”

“Actually, I’ve got one of those things that allows you to

lock the door without the key.”

“That’s a pretty useless device.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 3 9

Of course, I was joking.

Zerozaki soon closed his eyes and began to doze off. It was

like watching my own sleeping face, which was a bizarre, alien

sensation, to say the least. I continued examining Tomo-chan's

room until four in the morning, but didn’t co up with

anything that seed like a decent lead.

“But . . .”

Maybe it didn’t matter anyway. In fact, halfway through, I

had entirely lost my will to search for clues and spent the rest

of the ti staring down at the tape human.

And I reminisced. About the ti I had spent here on

Saturday night. That wild, ridiculous night during which we’d

all left reason and rational thought behind.

If I could be allowed to say sothing a bit romantic, perhaps

this was my morial to Tomo-chan. Now that wasn’t

my style, to be sure, but it seed like a good enough reason

all the sa.

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Satisfied?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

We left the building, and Zerozaki and I parted ways there.

We spoke no parting words, and made no plans to et again.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 4 1

There ain’t no aning.

Got it.

Got it.

Got it.

Got it?

Wednesday, May eighteenth.

With second period over, the afternoon break had begun.

Since the dining room got crowded at that ti, I always

skipped lunch on days when I had a second-period class. So I

instead made my way directly to my general-education class.

General education.

Classmates.

Aoii Mikoko, Atemiya Muimi, Usami Akiharu, and Emoto

Tomoe . . .

I hadn’t seen a single one of these four people since the

week began. This was no coincidence; most likely, not a single

one of them had co to school. Being dead, Tomo-chan had

her reasons, but the other three had neither died nor been

murdered. Perhaps Tomo-chan’s death was to bla for them

not showing up, or perhaps this was just how college students

behaved after Golden Week.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 4 2

Things hadn’t progressed any further. The pair of

detectives—Sasaki-san and Kazuhito-san—hadn’t returned to

visit my apartnt again, I hadn’t had any contact with my

three classmates, and I was still waiting for news from

Kunagisa. Naturally, I hadn’t t with Zerozaki again either.

As soone who doesn’t read the news or watch TV, I of

course had no idea what kind of press (or lack thereof) Tomochan’s

death had attracted. Nor did I know if the prowler had

struck again in the past three days.

It was sothing I had no desire to know.

Right now, I was only waiting. After all, that was one thing

I was used to.

“Man, it’s hot. . . . I wonder if I’m a slug,” I muttered as I

made my way across campus, from igaku Hall to Yôyô

Hall. It was less than three hundred feet away, but it was a

tough walk anyway. I had heard of boiling-hot climates before,

but I didn’t think they really existed. Neither Kobe nor

Houston had been this bad. This was the kind of heat and

body-soaking humidity unique to basin towns. I struggled to

endure it as my legs carried along. I climbed a staircase,

which brought directly to the second floor of Yôyô Hall. I

went inside and at last took a mont to catch my breath.

Just then, I spotted sobody familiar. But it wasn’t

because she was familiar that I noticed her. Rather, it was that

my eyes had been attracted to her against their better

judgnt by her flamboyantly hot-pink jersey. It didn’t exactly

blend into the surroundings.

That brown sauvage. If only she was crouching on the

ground in front of a convenience store, the image would have

been complete.

It was Atemiya Muimi-chan.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 4 3

She was currently talking to so guy, probably a classmate.

Thinking it would be a little obnoxious if I were to butt

in and start up a conversation, I tried to slip by her unnoticed

when she called out to .

“Whoa, it’s Ikkun,” she said.

“Yo,” her male associate greeted informally. He had

light brown hair and an easy-breezy kind of smile. Wait, who

was this again? I didn’t know anyone with this sort of easy-golucky

surfer quality, did I? Was he from our general-education

class?

“Long ti no see, huh?” Muimi-chan said with a weak

smile. “Umm . . . Geez, this is kind of awkward, huh? How

have you been since it happened?”

“I’ve been coming to school as usual.”

“Oh . . . heh, well, I guess you would.” She smiled, but it

seed slightly forced. She appeared worn out, which probably

wasn’t forced.

“How about you?” I asked. “What’ve you been doing? I

haven’t seen you at school.”

“Oh, well, how do you put it . . .” She couldn’t seem to

find the words. She probably didn’t like the idea of exposing

her weakness to others. I’m not that type of person myself,

but her feelings weren’t beyond my comprehension.

“Well, I’ve got to prepare for a presentation. Ti to get

outta here. See ya later,” the guy said to us, and rushed off in

the direction of the staircase.

“He’s sure an energetic son of a bitch, huh?” Muimi-chan

said we watched him take off. “He’s totally lazy until an

opportunity to be the center of attention cos along. Gen.

Ed. ought to be a good show today. I’ll be watching that bastard

from the front row.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 4 4

“Huh. So that guy is a classmate, then.”

Muimi-chan stood frozen for a few seconds before slowly

and stiffly turning her head toward like her neck needed

an oil change. I almost expected to hear it creaking.

“Don’t tell you forgot.”

“Hm? Oh, I guess Mikoko-chan didn’t tell you then, huh?

I’ve got a pretty bad mory, so I don’t really know who’s in

our class. I might rember him if I heard his na, though.”

But she wouldn’t tell the guy’s na. She was staring

at in shock for so reason.

At last, she opened her mouth. “Usami Akiharu.”

“Oh.”

There you had it.

This was shocking.

“Does he leave that little of an impression?” she said.

“Well, less than you, anyway. It’s not like he goes around

wearing hot pink jerseys.”

That was what I wanted to say, but I stopped myself.

Muimi-chan was the type of person who would probably

really start hitting you once you made her mad. And I probably

wouldn’t get off with just a jab or two. If I teased her the

way I teased Mikoko-chan, I’d be dead at.

“It’s my mory that’s at fault here, that’s all.”

“If that’s the case, then do sothing about it.”

“Well, the weak impression thing may be an issue too. He’s

not as crazy as Mikoko-chan. I know a lot of eccentric people.

Actually, that makes it sound like I know a lot of people.

Correction: The only acquaintances I have are eccentric

people, so normal people just slip right out of my mind.”

“Normal people, huh?” She gave a wicked little laugh.

“What? Did I say sothing funny?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 4 5

“Oh, nothing, nothing, I was just thinking, you’re a surprisingly

poor judge of character.”

“Huh?”

“Akiharu’s got a aner personality than you think,” she

said in a way that seed strangely aningful as she stared

off in the direction he had gone monts ago. “Well, you’ll

figure that out eventually . . . eventually.” Sothing in her

soft tone seed to suggest her words had a deeper aning,

but a mont later her facial expression switched like soone

had pressed a button on a remote. She turned my way

again.

“This is perfect,” she said. “I wanted to have a chat with

you. Let’s go talk in the lounge.”

She began walking without waiting for my reply. After a

short walk, we broke to the right, where we ca upon the

student lounge. I wondered if it would be crowded since it

was the middle of the afternoon, but looking through the

window glass I could see that, for so reason, fewer seats

were occupied than empty. There was a plate hanging off the

lounge door with No Standing written on it in red, Gothic

letters. It was a prank a student had carried out several years

back, and at this point nobody even bothered questioning it

anymore. As a result, nobody bothered getting rid of it, either.

We entered the lounge, and Muimi-chan took a seat. The

place was filled with cigarette smoke. Muimi-chan took one

whiff and imdiately reached into her pocket for sothing,

but then stopped herself as if she had recalled her “policy” just

in ti. It was nice of her to stick to it so fastidiously, but in a

place already this filled with smoke, it didn’t really make

much difference to whether she smoked or not. But I

knew that even if I told her she could, she would just say

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 4 6

sothing like, “No, it’s my decision,” so I took my seat without

saying anything.

“So what did you want to talk about?”

“Don’t play dumb. What’s the one thing you and I would

have to discuss?” she asked.

“Tomo-chan?”

“Mikoko.”

She leaned forward with her arms on the table and glared

up at . But I wasn’t so clueless that I wasn’t prepared to

et her gaze.

“Have you seen Mikoko since then?”

“Since when?” I asked innocently.

“I told you not to play dumb. The police must have paid

you a visit, too.”

“Well, yeah . . .” I recalled my eting with Sasaki-san and

Kazuhito-san, but to be honest, they weren’t really a pair I

wanted to think about too much. “So they visited you too?”

“Yeah. Kind of an unpleasant pair, weren’t they?”

“A man and a woman?”

“Yeah. The guy looked like he belonged on The X-Files, and

the lady looked like she paid regular visits to underground

cells. Regular cops piss off enough already, much less these

two . . . uh, but that’s another story,” she said, righting her

posture. “Yesterday was Tomoe’s funeral.” She looked at

in an accusatory fashion. “You didn’t co.”

“Well, nobody told about it.”

“Mikoko didn’t co either. Akiharu and I went, though.”

“Well, what can you do, right? Her death must’ve been a

big shock to all of you,” I said.

“Yeah, must’ve been. You make it sound like this doesn’t

have anything to do with you,” she replied.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 4 7

“It doesn’t,” I stopped myself from saying. Ah, the art of

tact.

“You’re not at all shocked by the fact that Tomoe was

murdered?”

“Well, I was surprised enough when I first heard the news,

but after three days, well, what do they call it? Cleaning out

your heart’s drawers? I an, the past is just mories.”

“As Tomoe’s friend, I want to be pissed at you for saying

that, but you’re pretty much right, huh?” she said, a bit defeated.

“I guess the human heart is conveniently constructed.

Especially for soone who’s thick-skinned like . It’s only

been three days and I’m already back at the point where I can

go to school again. But it really was devastating at first. I

an, I had just seen her, and then . . .” She snapped her

fingers.

And then, silence. I wouldn’t have called it awkward, but

it was a little unbearable. There was definitely a painful aura

flowing between us.

“It looks like Akiharu-kun’s recovered to so degree,

based on how he was acting just now.”

“Is that how he looked?” she asked.

“I thought so.”

“Well, maybe, if you say so.”

Again, she seed to be getting at sothing, just like

when she had said, “Akiharu’s got a stronger personality than

you think.”

So what was she saying? She changed the subject before I

could figure it out.

“So apparently you were the last one to hear Tomoe’s

voice.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 4 8

“Yeah. Although it was over the phone. Did you hear that

from Mikoko-chan? Or from the detectives?”

“Mikoko,” she said, nodding. “I went to her place yesterday

after the funeral ended, but . . . I think she needs more ti to

recover.”

“Ah.”

“And that doesn’t bother you at all?”

“Huh? What do you an?” I asked.

“I an you just heard that Mikoko is feeling down, and

I’m asking if that bothers you.”

“Everybody sure is hung up on that,” I said. Muimi-chan

looked a bit puzzled, possibly because of the word everybody.

She let out a big sigh and stretched. “Fucking clueless . . .”

“What’s that? I couldn’t quite make that out.”

“Ah, nothing. Listen, you might not want to hear this, and

frankly I’m the last person who should be telling you. I was

the one who was opposed to it in the first place. . . .”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Okay, let ask you a favor, then. It’s a simple

favor and there’s no catch. Just go visit Mikoko’s place, will

ya?”

She pulled a piece of paper out of her jersey pocket and

handed it to . “Aoii Mikoko” was written on it in hiragana,

and below that were her address and phone number.

“Man, these are so round letters. Who wrote this?”

“.”

“Ah . . .”

“What’s that supposed to an? What up with that

expression, like you saw that answer coming or sothing?”

“Uh, nothing. That’s not what I was going to say.” I looked

down at the mo in an effort to escape her deadly gaze, and

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 4 9

confird Mikoko-chan’s address. Horikawa Oike. Co to

think of it, had I heard that before? It felt like I had, but it also

felt like I was learning her address for the first ti. I couldn’t

rember.

“It’s pretty far from school. I guess that ans she commutes

here on her Vespa.”

“Nope, bus. This school doesn’t allow bikes.”

“It doesn’t?”

Incidentally, I commuted on foot. I had a bike, but I didn’t

use it much, as a general rule. It wasn’t that I particularly liked

walking, but sohow it works for anyway.

“Okay, so I go to Mikoko-chan’s place, and then what?”

“She’s down, so cheer her up. Just say stuff like ‘it won’t

do any good to just sit around feeling blue’ and ‘keep your

chin up.’ I’m sure that’ll do.”

“Oh, just the usual crap, huh? But wouldn’t that kind of

thing be better coming out of you? Oh, but I guess you already

told her yesterday. But if her good friend couldn’t even

cheer her up, I’m a lost cause.”

“It’s not that hard. Just go there and that’ll be enough.

Seriously, that’s all. Go see her, say a word or two of encouragent,

and then just play it by ear.”

Whatever that ant.

But then again, I didn’t really have any reason to refuse,

and it was a relatively convenient proposal, so I went ahead

and accepted. “Okay.”

“Try stopping by today after school.”

Just then, the bell indicating the start of third period rang.

“Oh, crap,” said the look on Muimi-chan’s face. My face probably

didn’t show it, but I pretty much felt the sa way.

Inokawa-sensei, the Cerberus of ti.

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“Ah, crap, that was the bell.”

“Even if we go now, we’ll be marked as absent. Or rather,

he won’t even let us into the classroom,” I said.

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now. Hate to

miss out on Akiharu’s studly performance, but let’s cut class.”

She was quick to make a decision. I hesitated to make a

decision for just a mont longer. But no amount of ntal

effort would turn back the hands of the clock, so I just gave

up. “Fine.”

“So, what now? Wanna go eat?”

“The dining hall’s probably still crowded at this ti,

right?

“Oh, right. Well, wanna stay here and chat a little more?”

“Well, then can I ask you sothing?” I said, thinking this

would make a good opportunity. “Was there anyone who

might’ve had sothing against Tomo-chan?”

Muimi-chan’s face imdiately grew serious. It was like

she was deliberating over sothing. Or, more likely, she was

just ntally confirming sothing she’d already thought of.

“Nope, no one,” she said decisively, after a long pause and a

perplexed expression. “Logically speaking, nobody could have

had sothing against her.”

“ ‘Nobody could have had sothing against her’ . . . heh,

kind of a weird phrase. Sounds like a crappy translation or

sothing.”

“But I think it’s an accurate one. I an, I think. I’ve

known her only since high school, though.”

“Speaking of which, how do you all know each other, anyway?

You said you’ve been friends with Mikoko-chan since

you were little kids, right?”

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“Mikoko and I were childhood friends, and then I t

Akiharu and Tomoe in high school.”

“Hey, wait. Isn’t that a little strange?”

“What?”

“Mikoko-chan is nineteen, and her birthday is in April.

Tomo-chan just turned twenty. . . .”

“Oh, no. Tomoe repeated a grade in junior high.”

“Ah.” So she hadn’t entered college late or returned from

abroad after all. She had just been held back a year. I hadn’t

even considered that option.

“The thing is, she was in the hospital for a long ti. She

had to take about half a year off, and even after that she

tended to be absent a lot. She just didn’t have the attendance

record in order to pass. Apparently she was pretty sick. They

said she was near death.”

Near death.

Death.

Awareness of death.

“Hahhh . . .” I tried my best to be coolheaded about it, but

I wasn’t sure how well I managed to pull it off. “I see, so that’s

what it was.”

So that was Emoto Tomoe’s story. I nodded a few tis so

that Muimi-chan wouldn’t notice my surprise.

“So anyway, it’s been the four of us ever since high school.

Apparently that was when Akiharu and Tomoe first t too.”

“I see. Go on.”

“Oh, right. So in other words, Tomoe was really good at

adapting. Or wait . . . maybe that’s not it. Maybe she was a

little bit like you, if you don’t mind my saying,” she said,

pointing at twice. “You’ve heard of the ‘personal space

bubble,’ right? Well, she was extrely good at defining

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 5 2

them. She could get close to people as far as a certain point,

but she would never step over that line. She would never

co into intimate contact with anybody, and on top of that

she never let anybody co into intimate contact with her.

She always stayed at a cautious distance, never too near or too

far. Kind of like a master sword fighter.”

“. . .”

The term sword fighter made Miiko-san spring to mind for a

second.

“Tomoe was my friend, but . . . I don’t think she ever

opened up to . I also don’t think I was ever any help to

her.”

“I doubt that,” I said, but my words probably didn’t an

anything to her. They didn’t an much to either.

Whether her hunch about Tomo-chan was right or not, it

probably wasn’t very far from the truth.

But Muimi-chan, you mustn’t mix things up. It’s incredibly

rude to Tomo-chan. If you’re really her friend, you shouldn’t

be saying such things.

Tomo-chan and I weren’t alike. We were simply on similar

tracks. In essence, however, we were different.

The only ones who are really similar to are the murderers,

Muimi-chan.

“Anyway, she was that kind of chick so by nature she

couldn’t have done anything to incite a grudge. I think you

can say that for certain.”

“Then who the hell killed her?”

“Like I know. Probably that serial killer.”

“The serial killer uses knives, I think.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 5 3

“Well, whatever. Sobody killed her. Those cops looked

pretty sharp, so I’m sure they’ll find who did it if we just let it

be. There’s nothing we can do right now anyway.”

She wore a stern face that didn’t match her passive comnt.

Surely she was speaking these words against her own

will. Her beloved friend had been murdered, and there was

nothing she could do. She must have felt helpless.

But it really was beyond her control. It was probably true

that she had no idea who the killer could have been. She had

nobody at whom to direct her anger.

Hmm.

“What the hell is everyone doing?” she said, looking at all

the students walking by outside the lounge. “Seriously, what

the hell are they doing?”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone. Everyone here. It’s so stupid. They’re just

living. They’re just not dead, that’s all. They’re just fucking

living.”

They’re just fucking living.

She repeated the phrase one more ti. “Ah, I’m groggy,”

she said, straightening up again. “I wonder if any of these

people really have a purpose. A purpose for living, or a future

goal or sothing. I wonder if they actually have those

things.”

“They must. I an, I’m sure it varies from person to person.

But it doesn’t really matter either way.”

“That’s not really what I’m trying to say. I don’t know. It’s

not that complicated. Like, take those chicks over there,” she

said, pointing to a group of girls on the opposite side of the

lounge. They had a sophisticated air about them, suggesting

they were probably sophomores or juniors. I couldn’t make

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out what they were saying, but even if I could hear them, they

were most likely chattering about sothing I wouldn’t have

understood anyway. They were laughing and slapping one

another on the back with giddy enjoynt.

“Now let’s say I had an assault carbine in my hands. An

M4A1. Then I aim at them, and . . . ratatatatata! What would

happen?”

I looked over at them once again. Their laughter was just as

giddy as before, but in my head, I saw them drenched in

blood, their bodies torn apart, pieces blown all the way out

the window.

“Well, I suppose they’d probably die.”

“Yeah, they’d probably die. But in that mont, what

would they be thinking? Would they have regrets? . . . I don’t

think they would.”

She glared at them with contempt, but none of them noticed.

They were fully absorbed in their own chatter, so much

that they didn’t even glance in our direction.

“They probably wouldn’t have a shred of remorse. Nothing

left undone. After all, they’re just living their lives without

any goals or aspirations. What could they possibly leave

behind?”

“. . . .”

“Of course, I’m not saying life is dull. It’s got its monts.

But all these people are desperate. They’re all desperately

looking for a way to kill tomorrow’s ti. Suddenly they’re all

just thinking about ways to kill ti. ‘How will I spend tomorrow?

And the next day? How can I kill twenty-four

hours?’ Like idiots, they desperately scramble for ways to fill

their schedules. But what is that? What’s the point in that?

Tomorrow might as well not co at all, if they’re just living

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 5 5

to kill ti. If you’re just living, you might as well die. . . .

That’s what I think, anyway. . . . Ah, sorry, I guess that was all

kind of weird.”

“No, it was really interesting.”

And I really ant it.

Muimi-chan was probably thinking this, as well: In the

end, what about Tomo-chan? What was she thinking in that

mont when she was killed? For Muimi-chan, who had

never been able to step over that line into Tomo-chan’s heart,

this would remain an eternal mystery. But if I were simply to

speculate, if I were to speak from what I had seen as a passive

observer, I would bet that she was no different from the giddy

girls we were observing: Tomo-chan died with no regrets.

“The dining hall’s probably cleared out a bit by now.”

Muimi-chan checked the ti on her watch and stood to her

feet. “Let’s get so food. If we go to Ryôyû Hall we can

probably get a seat.”

“Hey, I’m sorry, but would you mind just going alone? I’m

not really hungry.”

“Oh,” she said, tilting her head at a bit. She started to

take off, but then ca to a halt and looked back at .

“By the way, how do you know Mikoko’s birthday is in

April and that she’s nineteen?”

“I heard it from her.”

“Let rephrase that: Why did you rember sothing

like that? Your mory is totally crap. There’s no way you

would rember details like that, normally.”

It was a rude question, but she was probably justified in

doubting , considering I had completely forgotten Akiharukun’s

face.

“Eh, well, I have my reasons. I won’t get into it.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 5 6

“Hmm?” she said with a puzzled look, but didn’t pry any

further.

“Let ask one last question too,” I said. “Muimi-chan, do

you know what x over y is?”

“Hm? Probably ans x divided by y, right?”

“Yeah, right.”

“I don’t know of any other explanation.”

“Okay, don’t worry about it. Thanks.”

“What’s this about?”

“It was Tomo-chan’s dying ssage. I don’t know what it

ans.”

She looked a bit puzzled by the phrase dying ssage, but

again, she didn’t pry.

“Mmm . . . Well, see ya later,” she said after a mont’s

thought. “Don’t forget about Mikoko.” She waved a hand at

and left the lounge.

I waved good-bye to her. From there, I stayed in the

lounge for a while, not thinking anything in particular, just

sitting in a daze. Soon enough my throat started to hurt from

all the cigarette smoke, so I made my way outside. I put my

hand into my pocket, where it touched a piece of paper. I

pulled it out to see that it was the mo Muimi-chan had just

given with Mikoko-chan’s address written down.

“Guess I don’t have a choice. . . .”

Maybe I should have viewed this as another good opportunity.

Fortunately, the class after general education was a

lecture in which the professor never took attendance. I considered

my options for approximately three seconds before

settling on a self-declared holiday.

At the sa ti, I thought about the fact that when I

died, not only would I not have regrets—I would be relieved.

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And, walking by all those people who were just living utterly

without purpose, I left the lounge behind.

Mikoko-chan’s apartnt in Horikawa Oike was even more

lavish and splendid than Tomo-chan’s. It was far too ritzy for a

re college student; it had an almost subli air about it.

“Now then . . .”

The bus deposited in front of her apartnt building at

just around two o’clock. The ti right now, however, was

3:30. So, looking at the facts objectively and rationally, this

ant I’d spent an awkward hour and half just standing at the

building’s entrance.

“What was he doing all that ti? Why, he was shaking in

his boots at the very idea of visiting a girl of his age in her

apartnt where she lived alone.” I said aloud.

I tried to reaffirm the current state of affairs and apply a

personal interpretation, but there was hardly a point. It made

feel kind of stupid. But if I thought about it, this was

possibly the first ti I had ever made a decision to take an

action, and then still hesitated to the point that I wasn’t

moving at all. If it had been a close friend, I wouldn’t have

gone to such lengths to consider each and every little possibility

and detail, but I had only known Mikoko-chan for a few

days (or actually since last month). That didn’t bother ,

personally, but I didn’t want to accidentally put Mikoko-chan

in a bad mood.

That is to say, as an innately passive human being, I suck at

taking the initiative.

“Man, this is so la. . . .”

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Still, an hour and a half was a bit much, even for . The

longer I stood there, the stupider I felt, but I at last made up

my mind and stepped inside the building.

Unlike Tomo-chan’s building, there was no autolock here

and thus no need for a card key, but there was a security

cara watching over the lobby. Much more effective than an

autolock, which is pretty easy to get past. Of course, the most

effective thod was what they had in Kunagisa’s monster of

an apartnt: a real live security guard.

I looked at the mo I had received from Muimi-chan.

Fourth floor, room three.

I boarded the elevator and pressed four. I arrived at the

fourth floor a mont later and began my way down the

narrow hallway. Then I spotted surveillance caras in front

of the elevator and on both sides of the hallway. Wasn’t security

a bit too tight here? Even convenience stores didn’t have

this many caras. Maybe a big celebrity was living here in

secret. Even though it was Kyoto. Or wait, maybe it was

because it was Kyoto.

My head full of these aningless ponderings, I arrived at

the door of room three. Deciding that since I’d made it this

far, there was no point in hesitating anymore, I went ahead

and pushed the button for the intercom.

Inside, I heard a relatively normal-sounding bell ring, and

then the sound of soone moving around. Figuring that, as a

girl, she would probably take so ti getting ready before

coming to the door, I prepared myself for the long haul and

leaned up against the wall behind .

“Okay, I’m opening up now!”

Wha?

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 5 9

Wow. That was freaking fast. I guess I should’ve been glad,

but sothing about it gave a bad feeling. And as a passive

observer, my unpleasant premonitions boasted a 100 percent

accuracy rate. Crap. Sothing big was coming.

“This is pretty late for you, Muimi-chan. . . . Did sothing

happen?”

K-chunk.

The lock slid open with a satisfying sound and the door

opened.

I failed to respond, and Mikoko-chan couldn’t respond.

It was a dead freeze, and ctrl alt del wouldn’t fix it.

“Ah . . . ah . . . ah . . .” She turned bright red, then pale

blue. Then back to bright red.

“Ciao,” I greeted, for lack of a better idea.

“Eeeeeyaaaaahhhh!!!!” She let out an ear-piercing scream as

the door slamd shut with such an incredible noise and force

that I thought the entire fra might break. The whole world

distorted for a mont, and then ca a silence, as if the

whole thing had never happened.

Well, if worse ca to worst, at least the security caras

could vouch for my innocence in regards to her scream.

“Well . . . then again . . .”

She was still wearing her morning face. Her hair was all

ssy, and her bunny-print pajamas were partially unbuttoned.

So Mikoko-chan’s reaction to suddenly being confronted

by a mber of the opposite sex wasn’t all that weird

after all.

“Why?!” ca a voice from the other side of the door. She

sounded like she was just barely holding back tears. Or maybe

she wasn’t holding them back at all. “Why-why-why-why?

What are you doing there? Wasn’t Muimi-chan supposed to

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 6 0

be coming over? It’s like, gumshoe Asagi Semimaru solves the

case of the sealed room decapitation murders right away, but

the culprit was caught red-handed! Oh, my head! I don’t get

this! Why?! Nowaynowaynoway! You’re a ghost! This is a lie!

A dream! A nightmare!”

Aw, crap, she was panicking.

I wasn’t doing such a great job keeping my cool either, but

with her getting this flustered, I might just be able to keep my

wits about . Interesting. So Muimi-chan was originally

planning to co visit her. Then that lazy punk passed the

role over to , and she hadn’t even told Mikoko-chan about

it.

Okay, conditions confird. Proceed with maneuver authorization.

“This is creepy! You shouldn’t even know where I live!

You’re an illusion! This is all so vicious prank!”

“Well, I’ll explain everything later, so just let in. No

point in standing her talking like this.”

“Go away! Hurry up and go! No wait, I’m sorry, don’t go!

I’ll go clean up and get ready, so wait a minute! Please! And

forget what you just saw!”

“I’ve already seen you once, so what’s the big deal? Just let

in.”

“No!”

With that final, sharp rejection, I heard her stomp back

into the depths of her room. This was followed by what

sounded like full-on battle. She was probably cleaning up. She

really didn’t have to go to the trouble, I thought as I leaned

back against the wall again. I waited half an hour before she

finally let in. It was past four o’clock.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 6 1

The structure of the apartnt itself wasn’t so different

from Tomo-chan’s, but there was a ridiculous amount of furniture

and other furnishings. It seed Mikoko-chan was a

woman who liked her material possessions. It wasn’t a ssy

place, but you couldn’t deny there was a little clutter.

“Wait a sec, okay? I’ll pour so tea.”

She wore a pink camisole and shorts. The outfit exposed

far more skin than her pajamas from before, but I wasn’t

about to say anything. Her hair was also very nicely styled. It

was like she had beco a completely different person.

She placed a cup on the low table. Of course it wasn’t

filled with tap water, but with delicious-looking barley tea. It

had three ice cubes in it and looked nice and cold.

She plopped down across from . “Um-um-um . . . So

what’s going on, Ikkun?”

Perhaps still shaken up, she was acting a bit strange. If she

had been walking around Shinkyôgoku, the mobile police

would have stopped her for sure.

“Um, so yeah, Muimi-chan should be here any minute! It’s

already past the ti we were supposed to et, oh my God,

where is that silly girl?”

“Uh, I’m her substitute,” I said, waving for her to calm

down.

“Wha!” she cried in surprise, and then flashed an ambiguous

smile that seed to express anger, embarrassnt, joy,

and so other stuff I couldn’t put my finger on all at the

sa ti.

“Freaking Muimi-chan . . .”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not planning to be here long, so just

relax. I heard you were feeling pretty lousy, but I’m glad to

see you seem pretty alive.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 6 2

“Oh . . .”

“The word lousy seed to spur a reaction out of her, and

she hung her head down. Perhaps I hadn’t been careful

enough with my wording, I thought, but that was the only

way I knew how to phrase it.

Yes. Not only had Mikoko-chan’s friend been killed;

Mikoko-chan was also the first one to see her friend’s corpse.

She was the first person to have the image of that still, lifeless

body burned onto her retinas. And that burned image probably

still remained, even now. It wasn’t sothing she could

just bounce back from.

“So you ca here because I haven’t been going to school

and you were worried about ?”

“Yeah. Well, sothing like that.”

The reality of it was a little different, but I supposed the

difference was negligible.

This ti she flashed a straightforward, happy smile.

“Thank you!” she spouted. “I’m so happy you ca!”

“There’s nothing to thank for. I didn’t even bring anything.”

I realized this as I said it. Showing up to another person’s

house without bringing anything was probably pretty thoughtless

of . Not to ntion the fact that she wasn’t feeling

well. But since I had co directly from school, I didn’t

reckon there was anything I could’ve done.

“Oh, no problem,” Mikoko-chan said. “It’s not like I’m

incapacitated or sothing. It’s just that . . . if I go to school, I

know I’ll start thinking about Tomo-chan.”

“But it’s not like you don’t think about her when you stay

ho, right?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 6 3

“Well, that’s true, but . . .” She laughed weakly. “But seeing

you has cheered up. I’m okay. I’ll be going to school again

starting tomorrow.”

“I don’t really think the school thing matters one way or

the other. Have the police been visiting you?”

“Yeah, a few tis. A big guy and kind of a scary lady. But

I was the one who found her body, after all, and this is a

murder case.”

“Who could’ve killed her?” I said, not so much asking as

talking to myself, but still loud enough so that Mikoko-chan

could hear.

“I don’t know.” Her weak response was no surprise.

“Tomo-chan wasn’t the type of girl to make enemies. That’s

for sure.”

“Yeah, that’s what Muimi-chan said, too. But I wonder . . .

realistically speaking, is it actually possible to live without ever

being resented or disliked by anybody? I have my doubts

about that.”

“Huh?”

“I think it’s worth considering the possibility that you only

feel that way about Tomo-chan because you two were such

good friends, at that in reality, soone out there did resent

her. Even if that resentnt was unrited.”

She grew unbearably silent. She wore such an expression

of pain that I blurted out an apology. “Sorry.” She may have

been acting strong, but she was still in no state to be discussing

things like this yet.

“I shouldn’t have co here after all, huh?”

“Huh? Why?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 6 4

I really hadn’t ant for her to hear . But her face

swung back up at . She’d heard. “Ikkun, that isn’t true. I’m

glad you ca.”

“Co on . . . you’re just trying to look cheerful because

I’m here, right?”

A close friend, one who could speak frankly to her, like

Muimi-chan, would have been much better in this situation.

“But that isn’t true,” she persisted. “Even if I am just acting,

the more I do it, the truer it’ll beco, right? I’m fine. I’m

really glad you ca. Even if you were just doing what

Muimi-chan said and you really hate being here.”

“I don’t hate being here. . . . If I hate sothing, I say so.”

“Really?”

“Nah, I just thought I’d try saying it. I’m actually pretty

easy to push around.”

“I don’t doubt that,” she agreed.

I let out sothing like a sigh and stretched my arms. “All

joking aside, how are you really feeling? Are you finally starting

to get over the shock?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just . . .” Her eyes shifted to my right.

I followed her gaze to see that there were scattered piles of

newspapers and magazines lying around. “Umm, do you mind

if I talk about when I was in elentary school and stuff?”

“Go for it. I’ll listen.”

“It was when I was in the third grade. The building my

class was in was undergoing construction, so trucks and bulldozers

were constantly coming and going. But then one day,

there was sort of a near miss, and a truck carrying a big load of

sand crashed into the first-grade building.”

“Gee, I wouldn’t call sothing that big a ‘near miss.’ ”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 6 5

“Well, maybe not. The wall was smashed in, and sand

spilled into the classroom, burying so of the first graders. It

was a ss. But you know, we were still kids, so to us it was

almost like a fun event. Muimi-chan was going wild, surfing

on the sand mound and stuff.”

“Heh.” She really did seem like she would’ve been that

kind of kid.

“So, then, the next day. I woke up early and went to read

the newspaper. Anybody would be proud to have their school

ntioned in the newspaper, right? I an, it was just because

the accident had happened there, so it wasn’t really anything

to be proud of, but just the idea that my school was ‘in

the papers’ was enough to make happy.”

“Well, you were just a kid.”

“But you know what? It wasn’t in the paper,” she said with

an uncharacteristically glum sigh. “To , it was such a big

incident, but on a national level, it wasn’t a big deal at all. I

don’t rember what the headline article was that day, but in

that mont, it felt like soone was telling , ‘Your

existence isn’t worth squat.’ Sothing so amazing to

didn’t an a damn thing to everyone else. It was the saddest

feeling.”

“. . .”

“I feel kind of the sa way now,” she said, pointing to the

stacks of newspapers and magazines. I could see where she

was coming from. Sensational murder stories like this Kyoto

prowler were one thing, but the papers weren’t likely to dwell

for very long on sothing as ordinary (sorry to say) as the

murder of a single college student in her apartnt. It would

be in the news the next day, and then maybe the next at best.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 6 6

But even then, it would be a brief article that didn’t take up

too many column inches.

I grew silent. Mikoko-chan did likewise. We remained in

complete silence like this for a while, but she was the first one

to break it, with a question that took things in a confusing

new direction.

“Ikkun, have you gone antiquing or anything with Asanosan

since the other day?”

“Huh?” I blinked at her. “What? What do you an?”

“I . . . oh, I’m sorry! I don’t know where that ca from! I

didn’t an to ask that!”

“It’s okay. . . .”

Now how did she know that I went antiquing with Miikosan

sotis? There was no way Miiko-san would’ve told

her sothing that personal. Co to think of it, I seed to

rember that I might have promised to go with her again . . .

oh, yeah, that’s right. Was Mikoko-chan awake that ti?

“Does it bother you, by any chance?” I asked.

“What what what? Does what bother ?”

I had asked because I thought she might be feeling bad that

I had to promise to go antiquing with Miiko-san just to thank

her for putting Mikoko-chan up for the night, but this nervous

reaction was not what I was expecting. There was just no

reading this girl.

“Anyway, don’t let it bother you. We do that a lot.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. She likes antiquing quite a bit. Did she show you

inside her closet? As small as that room is, she won’t stop

buying antiques. I guess she sells them after she’s enjoyed

them for a while, though. She says art isn’t sothing one

person should monopolize.” At the sa ti, however, she

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 6 7

was no saint herself. “Basically I’m there to carry her stuff.

Even a guy like has so basic strength, and they say you

should always lend what you have to others. I’m not particularly

interested in antiques, but that doesn’t an I hate

them or anything, so if she asks , I go.”

“Huh. I see. So you and Asano-san go out . . . a lot . . . and

stuff.” For so reason her voice was trailing off.

“Not a lot, really. But you see, she’s been in Kyoto for a

long ti. She said she’s been living here alone ever since she

dropped out of high school. I got her to show around to all

the Buddhist temples and shrines once while we were

antiquing, like Seii Shrine and the Philosopher’s Walk. Do

you know ’em?”

“Yeah. Well, I know the nas, anyway. I’m not really interested

in that stuff.”

“Huh? Didn’t you say you knew Kyoto pretty well?”

How could she know Kyoto well if she wasn’t even interested

in the temples and shrines?

“Oh, uh, well, you know, yadda yadda yadda,” she said,

blatantly dodging the question. “How co you only rember

that kind of stuff? . . . Er, I an, you and Asano-san must

be pretty close then, huh?”

This conversation was starting to sound familiar. She was

awfully hung up on the whole Miiko-san subject. Had sothing

happened between them? I couldn’t imagine what might

have taken place in just a single night. Why was she trying so

hard to bring and Miiko-san together? It didn’t make

much sense to .

“Yeah, well, she’s a pretty interesting person and all,” I

said. “But we’re not ‘close,’ per se; she kind of takes care of

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 6 8

. Like sotis she lends her car. It’s a Fiat 500. You

know, the Fiat 500.”

“Huh . . . well, maybe it’s all okay then.”

Apparently having no interest in cars whatsoever (she

drove a ‘scoot,’ after all), she let my words pass right through

her and started babbling about sothing I didn’t understand.

“I wonder if she minds you coming to another girl’s house

like this.”

“Huh? Oh. Uhh, are you telling to leave?”

“No, that’s not what I an! I an, you go out with her

and stuff, right? So, I an . . . dammit, Ikkun, you pinhead!”

she shrieked, slamming her hands on the table, her face bright

red. Why she was getting so emotional over this, I had absolutely

no idea. All I could do was be confused. It all seed

awfully unreasonable to , but it was obvious that my presence

was only making her angry.

“I don’t really get it, but I’m sorry,” I said.

“Ahhh,” she moaned. “Fine, let put it another way. You

and Asano-san go shopping and stuff together, right?”

“Well, yeah. Not to run the point into the ground or anything.”

“So would you go shopping and stuff with too, then?”

Her logic here was beyond my comprehension, but her

face was written with such a sincere look of what could only

be described as “last-ditch desperation” that I just couldn’t

bear to point that out.

“Yeah, I guess I would. No reason not to.”

“Really? For sure? You’re not just saying that because

you’re on the spot?”

Her whole body leaned forward like her life depended on

the answer to this question. She chewed on her lip. She

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 6 9

looked for all the world like a little kid who was about to start

bawling. Her emotions were exposed so plainly that there was

no way you would guess she was a university student about to

turn nineteen.

“You sure are hung up on this. Did sothing happen, by

any chance?”

“Answer the question!”

“I an . . . probably. I can promise, if you’d like.”

“Really? You really an it?”

“I don’t lie. As a general rule.”

“You absolutely an it?”

“If there’s sothing you want to buy, sure.”

“This is a promise! If you forget, I’ll be pissed!”

“Okay.”

Overwheld by Mikoko-chan, I had gone and let her pull

a promise out of . But it wasn’t such a terrible thing, so I

decided to let it slide. This, at last, seed to calm her down,

and she proceeded to drink down the tea in her cup in a single

gulp.

“Ahh,” she sighed. “I’m so sorry. Occasionally I get a little

emotional and I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

“Occasionally? Did you just say occasionally?”

“Er, well, all the ti,” she nodded, sheepishly.

Huh.

The shock of Tomo-chan’s death. Certainly Mikoko-chan

wasn’t completely over it, but at least she wasn’t so down that

she was thinking about following after her by committing

suicide or anything. Sohow she was keeping herself together.

So of the stuff she was saying didn’t make a lot of

sense, but that was forgivable. It seed she was okay for the

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 7 0

ti being. She would probably be mostly recovered by

Saturday.

“Well, that’s it for today,” I said, starting to get up. “I’m

afraid I’ve got to go.”

“What-what-what? You’re going already? Oh, I’m sorry, I

did put you in a bad mood, didn’t I?”

“I said I didn’t plan on staying long when I got here, right?

Well, let’s get together again soon.”

“Ah, um!” she said, stopping as I tried to leave. “Um . . .

um, Ikkun.”

“What?”

“Um . . .” She hesitated a bit, a lot, rather, and thought for

a while before she spoke. “What do you think Tomo-chan

wanted to say that last ti you talked to her?” she said.

The final phone call.

Tomo-chan had tried to tell sothing.

“I have no idea, really. That day was the first ti I ever

even talked to her, so how could I possibly know sothing

like that? I don’t even know why she was talking to . But,

Mikoko-chan, you must have so idea, right?”

“I . . .” she dropped her head down. “I don’t know. I don’t

even have a clue.”

“. . .”

“Because Tomo-chan never talked to anyone.”

She never talked.

She never opened up to anybody. She kept her cautious

distance.

“It was like our friendship took place through an unbreakable

sheet of glass. She never told anything deep about

herself, about what she felt in her heart.”

“. . .”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 7 1

Then why had such a person made an attempt to talk to

? “Nonsense,” I muttered aloud.

“Huh? What?”

“I doubt I’ll get much of an answer out of you with the

current state you’re in, so I won’t ask a lot, but Mikoko-chan,

will you answer just this one question for ?”

“Wh . . .” She wore a puzzled expression. “What?”

“What do you think x over y ans?”

She thought it over for a mont. “I don’t know,” she answered.

Oh, I see. How about that.

I nodded and said, “Well, see you at school. Sorry I bothered

you.” With that, I left her apartnt. I proceeded out of

the building and began contemplating what to do next.

Horikawa Oike.

There was quite a distance between here and my apartnt,

but even still, I could probably make it ho in around

thirty minutes on foot. It seed like a waste of money to

bother getting on a bus, so I decided to just walk.

It never crossed my mind that the world’s greatest entrepreneur

might be waiting in my room.

Near my apartnt, by Senbon-demizu, I ran into Miiko-san,

who was out for a stroll, aloof from the world. When she

noticed , she sped up to a pace unusually fast for her and

ca over to greet .

“Yo.”

“Hello. On your way to work?”

“Nope. Today I’m going to Mount Hiei.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 7 2

“Ahh, with Suzunashi-san?”

She nodded. Suzunashi-san, full na Suzunashi Neon,

was Miiko-san’s close friend. She worked part-ti at Enryaku

Temple on Mt. Hiei in Shiga Prefecture. So called her

“Violence Neon.” Others, “Blackout Suzunashi.” She was sort

of a cool lady, but prone to flipping out randomly. I occasionally

saw her myself, but she would lecture about

sothing every ti. For soone so young, she was

strangely fond of lecturing others. It was hardly her only major

personality issue, but I liked her more or less as much as I

liked Miiko-san.

“It sounds like she wants so advice on sothing, so I’m

going out there. I’ll be back by tomorrow, so watch over

things back here in the anti. If soone cos to see

, just get their na and tell them whatever you want. If

it’s soone freaky-looking, don’t worry about it.”

“Uhh, sure, no problem, I guess.”

“Also, you have a visitor.”

“A visitor? For ?”

“. . .”

“Yup,” she nodded.

“When I noticed her, she was breaking into your place. She

had a little pizzazz about her. Or rather, a ton of pizzazz. I

don’t know who it was, but her gender appeared to be female.

She didn’t seem to be up to anything in particular, so I just let

it be.”

A female? What woman was likely to co visit my place?

I didn’t have many friends to begin with, so it seed like I

should’ve been able to narrow it down pretty easily. But the

way things had been going lately . . .

“Was she about this tall? If so, it was that detective.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 7 3

“No. That was no detective. Detectives don’t look like

that,” she affird with confidence. “Besides, I’ve t that

detective you’re talking about. I never forget a vibe I get from

soone. Oh yeah, and there was a car parked by the apartnt

that looked like it was probably hers. Maybe it’ll give

you a clue. Well, see ya,” she said, and made her way towards

the parking lot. Today’s jinbei had the word Tranquility printed

on the back. Yep, she was in a good mood today, possibly

because she was going to see Suzunashi-san.

But what did Suzunashi-san want with her anyway? She

was the type of person who rarely called on others, so I

couldn’t get it out of my head. And just what kind of “advice”

was she seeking? She may have liked sticking her nose in other

people’s problems, but when it ca to sharing her own problems

with others, Suzunashi-san was wholly passive.

“Sothing’s odd here.”

But the more pressing issue for right now was: Who

was this “visitor” currently waiting inside my apartnt? If it

wasn’t Sasaki-san, who was it? There was always Muimi-chan

and Mikoko-chan, but it was unlikely to be either of them.

And Kunagisa was an all-out shut-in, so it was highly improbable

that it could’ve been her.

I turned onto Nakadachiuri.

“Gah . . .”

Suddenly, everything was clear. Parked on the shoulder of

the road, as if to say that it was above all traffic laws, was a

spectacular bright red Cobra. Completely out of place in a city

like Kyoto, it was a monstrous, incredible specin of machinery.

“Oh my God . . . I don’t want to go ho.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 7 4

I seriously considered the idea of running straight to Kunagisa’s

place, but based on personal experience, I could

imagine the cruel fate that would be in store for if it were

ever revealed that I’d attempted escape. Giving up, I went

back to the apartnt, dragging my feet all the way.

I climbed up the stairs and headed for my room. The fact

that my locked door was no longer locked didn’t surprise .

This was a woman who could mimic voices, pick locks, and

read minds: The most difficult task was for her as easy as

breathing. I opened the door to see the private contractor,

adorned in a wine-red suit as dark as blood, sitting on the windowsill

with legs crossed, as if her presence were the most

natural thing in the world.

Uncompromising.

Aloof.

“Hey, Aikawa-san.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to call by my last na?”

“Hey, Jun.”

She gave a slightly cynical grin.

Aikawa Jun.

Mankind’s greatest private contractor. I had t her a

month ago through the great fiasco that had occurred on that

island. She left that day with the cool line, “If our fates are

linked, we shall et again,” only to show up to hang out at

my university the next day. She was kind of weird like that.

And what’s more, she spent the following week making do

her bidding, not even allowing ti for sleep, until finally

having to leave Kyoto for a job. Speaking from that experience,

she was a woman with whom I didn’t particularly want

to get involved. She was perhaps the most unnerving person I

had ever t.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 7 5

Looking at her with all the objectivity I could summon, she

was extrely wild—and she was a beauty of such wicked

allure it was hard to resist her. She had any number of

eccentric mannerisms. And she was completely unapproachable.

She looked at , searching my expression. “You don’t

seem at all surprised to see .”

“Oh, no, I am. So you’re back in Kyoto, huh?”

“Yeah, well, y’know, duty calls. We can talk about that

later, though. . . . Ahh, I get it. You saw the flashing car outside

and it tipped you off, huh?”

“No, actually the girl next door told .”

“Aw, and I was being extra careful not to be noticed. That

makes extrely . . .” Aikawa-san’s expression grew sharp

as a knife for a mont, but it was only for a mont before

she reverted back to her normal sardonic smirk. “Eh, whatever,”

she said.

I removed my shoes and stepped into the room, then made

my way straight to the sink. I poured a cup of tap water and

served it to her. “Enjoy,” I said.

“Muchas gracias,” she replied, and drank about half of it

before placing it on the windowsill.

Geez, she took it as if there was nothing unusual about it.

Just once I wanted to see Aikawa-san get surprised about

sothing.

“So what’s going on? Why are you back in Kyoto?”

“I said I’ll tell you later. More important, allow to

apologize for the period of neglect. But hey, you’ve got a nice

place here. It’s the perfect environnt.”

“Exactly where do you see that?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 7 6

“That’s not what I an. Co on, you know what I

an, don’t you? Well, whatever. So what’ve you been up to

lately, anyway?”

“Nothing, really. I’m just your average university student.

I’m not living so yakuza lifestyle like you.”

“Just a regular old student, huh?” she said, chuckling.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Oh, except for the fact that you apparently define

‘average’ as soone who starts nosing around when one

of his classmates is murdered, and maintains friendly relations

with serial killers.”

“. . .”

“Ooh, there’s that surprised look. You’ve made happy.”

She jumped down from the windowsill and plopped herself

down cross-legged on the tatami floor. Whether this was

sothing she felt compelled to do because she was wearing

such a short skirt, I wasn’t sure, but either way, I kind of

wished she hadn’t.

“How do you know about that stuff?”

“How do you think I know?” She grinned with unbridled

elation. But I had no idea what lurked behind this unbridled

elation. I was expending copious amounts of energy just standing

here talking to her like this. What’s more, she was a mind

reader of the highest order, so my emotions were all leaking

out of the pipes. It felt like we were playing poker, but with

my hand faceup on the table. She sure didn’t make such

things easy. She was like a piece of food that you couldn’t eat

no matter how long you boiled and grilled it.

But as long as she didn’t want sothing out of you, she

was a nice person, I guess. She was my type and all.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 7 7

“I have no idea,” I said. “Not even a clue. It’s not like I can

ever tell what you’re thinking.”

“Think. And then face it, man. I’m a lone wolf, but I’ve got

a quite a number of friends, in Kyoto and out.”

“Hey, that’s really sothing. It’s great to have a lot of

friends. Even I can acknowledge that. I’ll acknowledge it right

now. So what friends would you be referring to in this case?”

“For example, Sasa Sasaki.”

“. . .”

“Ikaruga Kazuhito.”

“. . .”

“Kunagisa Tomo.”

She pulled a single envelope from her black bag.

“Here you go, it’s from your sweet, sweet Kunagisa.”

“For ?”

“Yep. She said it’s the ‘thingy’ she promised.”

I accepted the envelope. Well, how about that. She must

have paid a visit to Shirosaki before coming to my apartnt.

While I was just your everyday, boringly average university

student, Kunagisa Tomo was, with all her eccentricities, an

expert computer specialist. She and Aikawa-san knew each

other fairly well.

As ordered by Aikawa-san, I thought for a mont. It

looked like she had co back to Kyoto for a job. Then she

had gone to Kunagisa for help with said job, just as I had gone

to her for help investigating Tomoe’s death. Then when

Aikawa-san went to visit Kunagisa, Kunagisa had decided to

use her as a ssenger. Was that what happened? But . . .

sothing was missing. There was no reason Kunagisa should

have to ask Aikawa-san to do such a thing, and there was no

reason Aikawa-san should agree to do it.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 7 8

This brought a much uglier scenario to mind, and it wasn’t

purely theoretical. To be more specific, Aikawa-san was . . .

“Well, now there’s just the simple matter of collecting your

fee. Tell what you know about your pal, the Kyoto

prowler.”

Aikawa wasn’t a ssenger—she was the collector.

“Jun-san, you an you ca to Kyoto . . .”

“Yup. To have a little chat about morals with that psychotic

nutjob.”

Aikawa-san made her living as a “private contractor.” This

involved anything and everything. Simply put, she was a jackof-all-trades,

a multitalented freelancer who didn’t limit herself

by specializing in any one particular field. Whether it was

walking dogs, solving locked-room murder mysteries, or

catching mass murderers who had already cut up ten people

into little pieces, as long as there was money involved, she

would take it on. Granted, there probably weren’t too many

nuts out there offering a big stack of cash just or walking their

dog. At any rate, she lived out each day “accomplishing the

impossible”—never bothering to make the distinction between

legal and illegal.

Be that as it may.

“The Kyoto slasher claid a twelfth victim yesterday.

Seeing as you lived in another country for so long, maybe you

don’t realize this, but that number is unprecedented in Japan.

This kind of incident simply doesn’t happen in Japan, much

less in a provincial city. What’s more, the identity of the killer

is a complete mystery. At this point, it’s going to require governnt

intervention.”

“And so you’ve been called upon?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 7 9

She nodded. “It sounds like there are other people at

work on the case as well—Public Welfare, Walker, Texas

Ranger—frankly, I don’t really know who. Unfortunately, I

don’t have a lot of horizontal ties. At any rate, my job right

now is just to stop that maniac from claiming more victims.”

“Did Sasaki-san hire you?”

“Can’t tell you that. What do you call it again? The code of

confidentiality? Business ethics? Trade secrets?” She gave a

comical little shrug and laughed. “Anyway, it seems a lot more

worthy of my ti than that crazy fiasco on Wet Crow’s

Feather Island ever was. That’s for sure.”

Worthy of her ti. That’s all she had to say in regard to

the grisly murderer who had already chopped up twelve

people. The idea of taking on this anonymous monster didn’t

frighten her in the least. On the contrary, she was so laid-back

about the whole affair you’d think she was sashaying on her

way to a picnic.

Suddenly, I realized all over again just how dangerous this

crimson woman was.

And I also realized that I was currently face-to-face with

said danger.

“Now then. I heard from Kunagisa-chan that you know a

thing or two about all this. I don’t suppose you’d mind filling

in your favorite big sister—I am like a sister to you, aren’t

I—on the details now, would you?” she said in a soft, coaxing

voice, like one might use to address their pet cat, as her fingers

crept up my face. It wasn’t that I particularly minded that

voice, but the speaker herself was either a tiger or a panther,

and it was more than a re tabby like could resist.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 8 0

Damn that Kunagisa. What ever happened to helping each

other out? Without the slightest hesitation, she had sold

out.

“What’s your problem? Why are you clamming up and

looking away? You’re being awfully uncooperative. Don’t tell

you’re not going to tell . Are you breaking your

contract? You promised this in exchange for what’s in that

envelope, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but I said I’d tell Kunagisa, not just anybody. If

I went and told you, it would be . . . what’s the word? A betrayal?

Immoral? Divisive? Rebellious? Whatever. The bottom

line is that it feels like backstabbing, and that’s just not my

thing.”

“Excuse ?!” she said, her voice suddenly much more

stern. If looks could kill, I would already be dead. Which

sounded a lot better than what was really in store for .

“Are you saying you can tell Kunagisa but you can’t tell

? Well goddamn. I had no idea you were such a cold son of

a bitch. I see, I see. Gee, you make sad. So you’ll listen to

Kunagisa, but you won’t listen to ? I had no idea you were

such a tough guy.”

“It’s not like that. It’s just that with Kunagisa, no matter

what you tell her, she’s harmless. But you’re planning on

taking so kind of action, right? Getting myself directly

involved with sothing like that, well . . . it’s just not in my

nature.”

“Excuse , did you just call harmful?”

“Well . . . aren’t you?”

As if she herself were aware of this, she refrained from objecting

to my remark, instead murmuring to herself thoughtfully.

She was, to a certain degree, soone who might listen

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 8 1

to reason. Once you had surpassed that degree, however, well,

you can imagine what happened then—that is to say, it would

backfire.

“Kunagisa will probably just tell anyway. That girl has a

big mouth. I figured I might as well just cut out the middleman

and co straight to the source.”

“Er, yeah, I know, but . . . I just have my own reasons, or

rather, uh . . .”

“Hm? Ahhh, ah-ah-ah, I get it! Well, why didn’t you say

so?!” she said with a wickedly and ghastly grin. She beckoned

to . Each stroke of her hand was so alluring, so graceful,

that it was srizing.

“Uhh, you get what, exactly?”

“Just co to . I’ll tease you to your heart’s delight.”

Seeing that I still wouldn’t budge, Aikawa-san instead

crawled over to on all fours. She stared up at with a

challenging, provocative gaze. She nestled her body into mine

and wrapped her arms around my back, forcing all of her

weight upon . She applied so pressure, digging her nails

into my back.

“Now. What were you saying?”

“Um, I’m terrified of you.”

“By the by, did you know that my index finger is perilously

close to jabbing through your ribs into your liver?”

“. . .”

“Don’t tense up so much. It’s bad for you. It’ll make your

flesh all stringy. So just out of curiosity, who do you think is

scarier—, or the serial killer?” As she said this, she ran her

tongue down the carotid artery on the right side of my neck.

The pleasure I felt from this delicate sensation, along with the

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 8 2

more pressing sense of fear that she might actually take a

gigantic bite out of my neck, bored their way into my brain.

Dammit.

Indeed, the serial killer did make for better company than

this.

“Jun-san . . . I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to say no.”

“Oh, go right on ahead. But if you do that I won’t tease

you like this anymore.”

“. . .”

“Either way is fine by . It doesn’t change the fact that

you’re going to talk. I’ve already decided that I’m going to

have you tell about this killer. That’s a fact. But since

you’re a friend, I just thought I’d ask first. Now do you want

to be nice? Or do you want to make this painful?”

“Uhh . . . what’s the difference?”

The fact that we were in this embracing position was my

one saving grace; I didn’t have to see her face, and she

couldn’t see mine. But even still, my cold sweat and pounding

heart probably betrayed my terror.

“What do you think is the difference?”

Chomp. She bit down on my neck. She literally had my

life in her clutches. Softly, teasingly, she dug her canines into

my skin, but at the sa ti worked a healthy amount of

saliva onto her tongue, licking my flesh between her lips,

rubbing her body against mine, running her fingers down my

back.

“Okay!” I said, using every ounce of strength to pull myself

away from her. “I won’t disobey you anymore! Please forgive

!” Sitting a little apart from , Aikawa-san responded

with a sly yet sohow innocent smile.

“Don’t get so serious. It was just a little joke,” she said.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 8 3

“Yeah, a bad joke. Bad for the heart, anyway . . .”

“Hahaha. Actually, I’m relieved. You’re a healthy young

man after all.”

“Co on, give a break.”

I had to calm down. So I chugged down a cup of water. It

didn’t take long for my heartbeat to slow down, but the cold

sweating was out of my control.

I am no good at dealing with this woman after all. I should

have just run straight to Kunagisa’s place without worrying

what might happen later.

“Really now, this is nonsense.”

After that, Aikawa-san managed to fish out of every

last detail about Zerozaki Hitoshiki, no stone left unturned. I

tried my best to weasel out of revealing the key facts, but with

her ability to read my mind, I wasn’t especially successful.

Every ti I tried to hide sothing, she would see right

through and threaten , and then either through coercion

or trickery would pry the answer out of . It served to

remind that I was basically her prisoner.

The person known as Zerozaki. His appearance, build, and

clothes at the ti we t. The way he spoke. The circumstances

surrounding our first eting. What we talked about.

Even the details of our secret infiltration of Tomo-chan’s

apartnt. Aikawa-san drew all of it out of . At least, as

much as I could rember.

It wasn’t like Zerozaki and I were friends. We were just of

the sa breed, and we were like mirror reflections of one

another. We hadn’t exchanged any sort of promise, and he

wasn’t preventing from talking.

Nevertheless, I felt so spineless it was a wonder I didn’t

collapse.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 8 4

“Hmm . . .” After all that, Aikawa’s smile disappeared and

her expression grew more serious. She thought to herself in

silence for a few minutes. “So this guy . . . Zerozaki, was it?

Like zero and zaki put together?”

“Yeah. At least, that’s what he calls himself.”

“Zerozaki Hitoshi . . . ahhh, that’s a nasty na.”

Aikawa-san looked truly irritated, like the whole thing was

just a big hassle. It was the first ti I had ever seen her wear

such an expression. It was almost refreshing.

“What do you an? What’s wrong with it?”

“No, no no no . . . On second thought, maybe a ‘nasty

na’ isn’t the right expression. But ‘Zerozaki’? Sure is an unusual

na.”

“Oh, but you know, it might not be his real na. That

guy’s no fool. I doubt he would give soone his real na on

a first encounter.”

“That’s beside the point. Even if it’s an alias, the fact that

he would choose an alias like ‘Zerozaki’ is proof that he’s a

nut. And if it is his real na, well . . .”

She began thinking in silence again. Once this lady started

thinking about sothing, she sank into her own world, and if

you were there beside her, it felt like you had beco

invisible. But then again, even an invisible man still exists. In

this case it was more like you had beco empty space.

“Even as a joke, there isn’t an idiot on this earth who

would announce himself with a ‘killer’s na’ like that.

‘Zerozaki,’ huh? Damn, that’s right above ‘Susukino’ in rank,

isn’t it? I guess it’s still better than ‘Niounomiya’ and

‘Yamiguchi,’ but you know, I actually hope it is just an alias.

Or better yet, just a case of two people having the sa last

na by coincidence. But there’s no way that’s it. There’s no

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 8 5

way sothing that convenient would ever happen to .

Wow . . . so even Kunagisa, even an ex-mber of the ‘team’

was of no use.”

“Uh . . . is there sothing wrong with the na ‘Zerozaki’?”

“Yeah, there is. It’s about as terrible as nas co. It’s so

bad that to us, the worst possible insult you could call soone

was a ‘Zerozaki.’ That’s how bad it is. I don’t really want

to bother explaining any deeper than that. To be perfectly

honest, I don’t want to have the slightest thing to do with the

‘Zerozaki Ichizoku,’ and that includes giving explanations. Eh,

but actually it’s the na itself that I don’t like. In this case,

the individual is essentially irrelevant. He’s probably just so

irregularity . . . probably. But is this guy really the Kyoto

Prowler?”

“Yes, that’s what he said.”

“So you didn’t actually witness him in the act? You’re just

taking his word for it?”

“Well, you could say that,” I said, nodding.

“Hmm. So then there’s a chance that he might be so

delusional, lying bastard who’s just saying this stuff.”

“Yeah, there’s definitely that chance. I an, I didn’t get

that impression, though.”

“Really? Co on, he’s got a big tattoo on his face, right?

And it covers the entire right side. Even in Chicago he’d be a

freak. He’s been standing out like that and he’s still able to

escape the cops without leaving a single clue behind?”

“Yeah, well . . .”

Naturally, I had considered this possibility myself as well.

But having heard what he had to say, there was no basis on

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 8 6

which to call him a fake, and frankly, I didn’t care all that

much to begin with.

Whether it was him or not, it didn’t make much of a

difference to . Maybe he wasn’t the prowler.

“That guy is a murderer without a doubt,” I said to

Aikawa-san. “Aikawa-san, you must know that I haven’t lived

the most decent life, right? In Kobe, Houston, even here. Hell,

even on that island I was almost killed. I may still not hold a

candle to you, but I’ve seen my fair share of Hell in my ti.”

And Heaven was still a long way from here.

“I never actually saw him kill sobody, but he did almost

kill . He was just using a plain old short knife, and yet the

terror I felt was that of soone facing an opponent with a

naginata . . . no, with a machine gun.”

“Hmm . . .” Apparently convinced, she nodded several

tis. “At any rate, I suppose the bottom line is that this expert

of dissection who calls himself the ‘prowler’ is sowhere

in Kyoto. Yeah. As long as I have that straight, that’s

enough.”

“It is?”

“Sure it is. Combined with the other information I’ve

gathered, it’ll give a place to start. For now, anyway. I

think for the ti being it’ll be faster for to proceed on my

own two feet, if you know what I an. If I don’t have a bit of

a challenge, things get boring and I can’t function anymore.

Know what I an? Anyway, more importantly,” she said,

bringing the conversation back to , “putting my stuff aside,

what’s going on with you? I heard from both Kunagisa and

Sasaki that you’ve been sticking your nose in so boring,

everyday kind of case.”

“I got caught up in it.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 8 7

“You got caught up and then you kept sticking your nose

back in, didn’t you? I an, sneaking into the victim’s apartnt?

Quit pretending you’re just so passive observer.”

Touché.

“Now what is it, exactly?” she pondered, looking at

with a touch of awe. “You’re a hard guy to understand,

y’know? It’s like you have no conviction, or no style. What

you say and what you do are completely different things.”

“It’s that clash that gives my flavor.”

“What flavor? Can’t you view yourself objectively?”

“Sure I can . . .”

“You’re more like the comic relief than a passive observer.

Eh, but whatever. Do whatever you like. It’s your life, I guess.

Not my place to butt in. Not my problem.”

“You’re a cold woman.”

“Not really. Keep studying, young’un. You do your own

dirty work. And if you set out to do sothing, do it to the

end. I told you before, didn’t I? Quitting midway through is

the worst thing a person can do. Oh yeah, and also,” she said

as if she had just rembered, even though that obviously

wasn’t the case, “a ssage from Kunagisa.” She pointed to

the envelope under my arm.

“What is it?”

“Don’t go having an affair now, Ii-chan. I’ll forgive a

smooch on the cheek and nothing above that. ‘I love youuu,

kiss kiss,’ ” Aikawa-san said, mimicking Kunagisa’s voice and

intonation and grinning. “She said.”

“Roger that,” I said, throwing my hands up.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 8 8

It had gotten to the ti where it was technically okay to be

eating dinner, so I invited Aikawa-san to join . But because

she was eager to proceed with her pursuit of Zerozaki as

quickly as possible, she refused and soon left.

In the very end, I asked her one final question. “What do

you think x over y ans?”

“Don’t look to others to confirm what you already know,”

she said flatly. Touché, I thought.

I let out a sigh as I watched her disappear.

Zerozaki Hitoshiki.

Aikawa Jun.

She would probably find him in a matter of two days. I

hadn’t exactly provided a cornucopia of information, but it

was more than enough to serve Aikawa-san’s purpose. She

was in a state of mind beyond my wildest imagination, and

even that was sothing she was free to break away from

whenever she desired. The superiority of Aikawa Jun’s

cognitive faculties defied the imagination.

And the two would likely collide. Mankind’s Greatest and

the Human Failure would et head-on. And if it ca to

that, the outco was obvious. If Zerozaki Hitoshiki was a

homicidal monster, then Aikawa Jun was the ultimate monster

hunter. Having a bit of a penchant for taking lives was

great for drawing attention, but it wouldn’t be enough to stop

her from sniffing him out. The nature of this scarlet woman

was one so transcendental, so elevated, that if there was one

thing you didn’t want to do, it was make an enemy of her.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 1 8 9

And making friends with her didn’t serve as a very good plan

B. If there was any one saving grace, it was that she had a

sense of the whimsical. But it was hardly sothing that could

be exploited.

“I wonder if he’ll get away . . .”

I was just a little worried. Not to ntion incredibly sympathetic.

But I didn’t give it too much thought.

I had little interest in sothing that was to take place a

world away from here. Even if it was happening to my own

mirror image.

Now was the ti to think about my own world.

I took the envelope from Kunagisa in my hand.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 1 9 1

Ilikeyoulikeyouloveyoulots.

On Saturday, May twenty-first, I woke up early in the

morning.

“Ti to get up.”

I had had so kind of nasty dream. It seed like I was

about to be killed, and like I was also trying to kill soone.

My entire body was being controlled by the sheer will to commit

harm, and at the sa ti, I was being hard. I ran and

I ran and I ran and I ran and I ran, but sooner or later the

figure chasing after turned out to be myself, and I was

gripped with terror. Certain death was just behind , and

yet it was strangely exhilarating. It was that kind of awful

dream.

The sheer fact that I couldn’t rember it made it a nightmare,

and the fact that it was a nightmare made this a rude

awakening.

I rose up from my futon and checked the ti. Five fifty in

the morning. My plans with Mikoko-chan weren’t until ten

o’clock, so I still had roughly four hours to kill. With nothing

in particular to do, I folded up my futon and pushed it into

the closet.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 1 9 2

I went outside, thinking it might be nice to go for a run for

the first ti in awhile. I locked up just to be safe, but with a

lock of this quality, Aikawa-san wasn’t the only one who

could easily break in if so inclined. Not that there was anything

in that place I’d mind having stolen.

I ran east down Imadegawa Street and turned back once

Dôshisha University had co into view. I went directly back

to my apartnt and changed out of my sweaty clothes. Why,

oh why had I thought it would be a good idea to run in this

heat? I wondered with the usual remorse.

I picked up the book I had borrowed from the school

library and reread the part I had previously stopped in the

middle of. That alone ate through a good chunk of ti, so

from there I picked up the envelope from Kunagisa, the contents

of which I had already glanced over a few tis.

The envelope contained police docunts. Through what

ans Kunagisa had obtained such a thing, I didn’t know, but

we had sort of a don’t ask, don’t tell policy. What I did know,

however, was that Kunagisa could access pretty much any

place with electricity running through it, and that within her

circle of friends were criminals who knew just about everything

in the entire Milky Way galaxy. Of course, normally I

had little interest in criminal investigation. But these were

docunts on the murder of Emoto Tomoe.

“But co on . . .”

I flipped through the paper-clipped sheets of A4 paper.

There wasn’t really any new information. The docunts

elaborated on so of the more minor details, but most of

them seed irrelevant, and it was all more or less what

Sasaki-san had told . I was a little bit shattered to realize

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 1 9 3

that this was what I had endured Aikawa-san’s interrogation

for.

Still, it wasn’t a complete waste. There was so information

I hadn’t been aware of, and it was worth knowing.

“So here we have alibi relations.”

As logic may have dictated, the four classmates who had

been with Emoto Tomoe the night she died (us, that is) were

the pri suspects. Nevertheless, all four of us had alibis, at

least for the ti being. Miiko-san next door had graciously

vouched for Mikoko-chan and , while Muimi-chan and

Akiharu-kun were vouching for each other. The possibility

that they had committed the cri in cahoots was present,

but based on the police’s observations, that didn’t seem to be

the case. Sasaki-san had made it sound like Muimi-chan and

Akiharu-kun went to karaoke, just the two of them, but apparently

other people from school had been present as well. In

other words, Akiharu-kun and Muimi-chan had a sound alibi,

just like Mikoko-chan and I. If anyone had a weak alibi, it was

. After all, Miiko-san could only vouch for what she heard

(or didn’t hear) through the apartnt walls.

But of course, I knew I wasn’t the killer.

“Okay then, that’s all clear . . .”

Next was the list of items in the apartnt. When I snuck

in with Zerozaki, I didn’t think anything was missing, but apparently

I was wrong. The police docunts gave a complete

list of everything inside Tomo-chan’s apartnt, from the

largest piece of furniture to the smallest accessory. It was like

the concept of privacy no longer even existed, but at the sa

ti, it gave you a good idea of who this Emoto Tomo character

was.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 1 9 4

It was just that on this list, one thing was missing—the

liquid-filled capsule neckstrap Akiharu-kun had given Tomoechan

as a birthday present.

I had seen him give it to her with my own eyes, so it was

strange that it wasn’t on the list. The most logical explanation

to co to mind was that the killer had taken it, but that just

raised the question of why the killer would want such a thing.

“It wasn’t exactly worth a lot. . . .”

anwhile, the cell phone she had used to call had

apparently been found in her pocket. The docunts included

corroboration of the call based on the call history in her

phone’s mory.

No foreign objects had appeared in her apartnt either.

Evidently the killer had left with the think cloth allegedly used

to strangle her.

“Cloth . . . cloth . . . cloth, eh?”

Next was a thoroughly docunted account of Mikoko’s

discovery of the body, which was information I hadn’t been

able to draw out of her. She had visited Tomo-chan’s apartnt

in the morning and called her room on the intercom.

But there was no answer. She wouldn’t pick up her phone

either. Thinking this was strange, Mikoko made her way

through the autolocked door as one of the other residents was

leaving and headed to Tomo-chan’s room. The door to the

entrance wasn’t locked. I had feared we might have another

damned sealed room on our hands, but apparently that wasn’t

the case.

“And finally.”

That x over y writing.

The police had deed this the “work of the perpetrator,”

which made sense. Sasaki-san said herself that Emoto Tomoe

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 1 9 5

had died instantly, so it didn’t make sense that she could’ve

written a dying ssage. This was sothing I had realized in

ti as well. Once again, this raised the question of why the

killer would do such a thing. Leaving a sign at the cri

scene—this was no Jack the Ripper after all.

“And that’s the end of that.”

Those were the facts I had deed useful. But overall, my

ideas on the case remained largely unchanged.

And that was fine, I thought.

Based on this information, a number of minute possibilities

had been crossed out. From here I would gradually narrow

down the remaining possibilities. But for the ti being, it

was safe to say that a basic process of reasoning was starting to

take form.

“But still . . .”

What the hell was I doing? Why did I have to do all this

stuff?

Was it for Tomo-chan?

Or for Mikoko-chan?

Going as far as obtaining these docunts, dedicating copious

amounts of ti—what the hell was I doing?

“I ought to talk to Sasaki-san again, huh . . .”

There were so things I wanted to ask. So possibilities

left to be narrowed down. I wouldn’t use the word solution

until I had sothing 100 percent watertight.

I slid the papers back into the envelope, tore the envelope

to pieces, and threw it all into the garbage. In the unlikely

event that sobody caught a look at these docunts, there

would be trouble. Besides, having perused them pretty thoroughly,

most of the information had been committed to mory

already.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 1 9 6

Now then.

There was still a little over an hour until Mikoko-chan

would be here. Two hours, if you factored in her lack of punctuality.

I lay down on the floor and thought a bit more.

About the murder?

No.

About my own ridiculousness.

Luckily, there was still plenty of ti.

Life had only just begun.

Mikoko-chan showed up on ti.

“I’m not late today!” she said, giving a gleeful German

salute with both hands. Though it was probably a given at this

point, she was so hyper that you might think she had blown a

circuit. She was dressed in a tight tank top and large, loose

overalls. She also had her head deeply inserted into a yellow

hat that looked like it belonged on a kindergartener (not to be

an or anything). There was sothing adorable about her

reddish hair peeking out from under the brim. The tank top

was just a bit too small, making it look like she was wearing

overalls directly over nothing, which was, well, how do you

say . . . actually, I guess I didn’t mind.

“Well, shall we go?”

I started to leave, but she imdiately stopped . “Oh,

wait-wait-wait,” she said, pushing back into the room and

entering herself without being invited. She had done this last

ti too. Maybe invading houses was one of her hobbies. Not

a very sociable one, if you asked .

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 1 9 7

“I brought you a little sothing today. To say thanks for

spending the day with .”

No sooner had she said it than she opened her bag—a

Boston bag different from her usual purse—and pulled out a

lunch-box-like item wrapped in a bandana. She unwrapped it

to reveal that it was actually Tupperware.

“Wow, what is it?”

“Treats,” she said boastfully, and opened it up. Inside were

six pieces of sweet potato shaped like Mont Blanc. I could tell

by the slight indents that these were handmade.

“Wow, so you do baking and stuff.”

“Yup. But don’t expect it to taste too good or anything.”

“Can I eat ’em?”

“Of course. Oh, right.” She pulled a thermos out of her

bag, handed a cup, and poured the contents of it. It was

black tea, and Marco Polo, no less. So she had even co prepared

to compensate for the fact that I didn’t have anything

besides water here. This girl didn’t let anything get by her.

She prepared herself a cup of tea as well, and flashed a nice

smile. “Well, cheers.”

I clinked glasses with her and popped a piece of sweet

potato. Unfathomable sweetness imdiately spread throughout

the inside of my mouth. Of course they weren’t called

sweet potatoes for nothing, but this didn’t seem like an ordinary

amount of sugar to .

“Pretty sweet, huh?” I said, letting my true impressions

show.

“Yep. I looove sweet stuff.”

“You don’t say.” I nodded and popped the next one in my

mouth. Yup. Sweet. Co to think of it, I hadn’t had any

breakfast that morning, so this was quite the convenient little

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 1 9 8

surprise. But hey, hadn’t Mikoko-chan said she didn’t like

sweet stuff before? It seed to like she may or may not

have said that at one point. I couldn’t seem to rember.

Well, whatever.

She was a girl, after all. You know how fickle they can be.

Within five minutes, the sweet potatoes had been completely

consud.

“Mikoko-chan, you’re pretty good at cooking and stuff,

huh?”

“Yep. It’s because I was a latchkey kid.”

“What’s a . . . latchkey kid?”

“Uhh, it ans a kid who’s ho alone a lot. Kids whose

parents both work have to bring a house key with them to

school, right?”

“Why?”

“Um, because if nobody’s ho, the door is going to be

locked, right?” she continued, looking rather perplexed. “So

that’s why they call them latchkey kids.”

“Oh . . . I get it.”

I broke my eye contact with Mikoko-chan and stared up at

the ceiling to hide my facial expression.

Well how about that, I thought. So households like that

exist.

“Ikkun, did I say sothing wrong?”

“Huh? Why?”

“You’re making a really weird face right now.”

She didn’t sound so much worried as nervous, almost

frightened, even. I shook my head and said, “No, it’s nothing.”

Yup, nothing at all. Why should sothing like that bother

?

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 1 9 9

“So should we really go now? Where do you want to go?”

“Huh?”

“You wanted to go shopping, right? I think that’s what you

said. Shinkyôgoku? Kyoto Station? Or do you want to go all

the way to Osaka?”

“Oh. Umm. Umm.”

She started to get flustered, as if she hadn’t even thought

about it. Her eyes darted around looking for sothing or

soone to save her, but ultimately looked back at and

said, “Uh, a-anywhere is fine.”

What did that an?

“You can’t an that. You’re the one doing the shopping.”

“There isn’t any place in particular you want to go with

?”

“There isn’t really anything I need. Living in a room like

this, I only have space to buy things you can throw out quick.

It wouldn’t make any sense to go shopping. Not that I’m

against nonsense. There just really isn’t anything I need to

buy. What is it you wanted to buy?”

“Uh, well, you know, clothes and stuff.”

“Huh.”

“And I want to eat sowhere.”

“Well, then I guess Kawara-machi’s the way to go.”

“Okay,” she said.

I may not be the assertive type, but Mikoko-chan might

have been even worse. Why did I have to decide where she

would go shopping? Of course, such questions were pointless.

“Okay, let’s go,” I said, and we left the room together. We

walked for a bit until arriving at the Senbon Nakadachiuri bus

stop, where we stood and waited for the Shijôkawara-machi

bus. Within five minutes, the 46 line bus had arrived. We got

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 2 0 0

on and found a lucky pair of empty seats. We sat down with

on the inside and her beside .

“By the way, you ca on your Vespa, right?”

“Yeah, my Vespa. My Vespa,” she said, looking a bit nervous.

It seed my previous anger had left a strong impression

on her. I wondered if I might have gone too far last ti, but

there are tis when even I can’t hold back my emotions.

In fact, it happens a lot.

“So you’ll have to co back to get it . . .”

“It’s okay. As long as I take the bus, the price is the sa!

It’s a flat fare within city limits!”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“So you’re not planning to buy a car or scooter or anything?”

“Nah. Things aren’t particularly inconvenient without

one.”

“Hmm . . .” She nodded ambiguously. “Tomo-chan was the

sa way. She had a license, but she didn’t have any wheels.

She said she just wanted to use it as a proof of identification.”

“Yeah, that’s basically what I’m doing.”

“I see. Maybe everyone’s like that. But I want to start driving

once I get my license.”

Co to think of it, I did seem to rember her saying

sothing about going to driving school and getting her dad to

buy her a car once she had a license.

“I drive on occasion too,” I said. “Sotis I borrow

Miiko-san’s car.”

“Mm-hm.”

The instant I brought up Miiko-san, Mikoko-chan’s

expression grew terribly bored. By this point, even I had co

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 2 0 1

to learn that Mikoko-chan wasn’t soone with whom you

could have a good conversation about Miiko-san.

“Wow, so Tomo-chan had a license too.”

“Yup. For what it’s worth.”

“I see. Hey, by the way, did you go to school yesterday and

the day before?”

“Yup. Didn’t see you there, for so reason.”

That was because I didn’t go to school yesterday and the

day before. With those docunts from Kunagisa in hand, I

had a lot of things to think about. It wasn’t that my role as a

student was my lowest priority or anything, but it wasn’t my

top one either.

“I t up with Akiharu-kun and Muimi-chan, though. I

talked to them about the idea of having an event in Tomochan’s

honor. You’ve got to co out when we do it.”

For a mont, for just a single instant, I hesitated. “Yeah,

for sure. Be sure to invite ,” I replied. I couldn’t tell if I was

genuinely agreeing, or if I was just saying that because I was

on the spot. Knowing my personality, it was more likely the

latter, but in this particular case, just maybe it was the forr.

We arrived in Shijôkawara-machi and got off the bus.

“Ooookay! Today, we get crazy!” she declared, stretching

out both her arms. And then she flashed the most beautiful,

awe-inspiring, liberated smile I had ever seen in my life.

“Say good-bye to the dark stuff. Today we’re having fun!

Right, Ikkun?!”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Yeah! Mikoko-chan, full speed ahead!”

For the next six hours, Mikoko-chan did just as she’d

declared, running around Shinkyôgoku from one end to the

other, almost as if she really had forgotten about Tomo-chan.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 2 0 2

Skipping and hopping around.

Frolicking about.

Vanquishing evil.

Going wild.

Joking around.

Almost crazily.

Almost like she was broken.

Almost like shad had sohow faded.

Like she had lted away.

Dancing madly.

Flying about.

Spiraling.

Like she was scrambling for sothing.

Like sothing was holding her back.

Like she was on a self-abusive binge, and yet still sohow

mistakable for a pixie.

Like an innocent child, utterly free of sin.

A wholly pure existence.

Freely expressing her emotions—laughing, losing her

temper, and at tis even lanting with watery eyes, only to

return once again to that joyful smile.

Even I, even I, just so guy who happened to be there.

, Mr. Damaged Goods.

Or perhaps she had already made up her mind to confront

her destiny. For , the one who couldn’t save her—no, who

didn’t save her—this was nothing more than an excuse, but I

still couldn’t help wondering.

Was she already aware of her fate?

“Wow, ti just flies by, doesn’t it? I can’t believe it.”

“Well, it’s like Einstein said. There’s a world of different

between a minute spent with a pretty girl and a minute spent

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 2 0 3

with your hand on a stove,” I said, as if Einstein were an old

friend of mine.

“Huh?!” Mikoko-chan said with a look of pure triumph.

“Could it be? Are you saying you think that I’m pretty?”

“Well, I don’t suppose I’d deny it,” I said, simply for the

sake of the conversation. If there was one thing today had

taught , it was that giving her too direct of a response

would result in getting dragged into sothing unnecessary.

I currently had three paper shopping bags in my right

hand, two in my left, and two plastic bags on my back. They

were mostly filled with clothes, so none of it was all that

heavy, but it sure was a shock to see Mikoko-chan throw her

ten-thousand-yen bills away one after another. Kunagisa was a

big shopper too, but in her case it was all online from ho,

so the reality of seeing soone splurging this heavily right

before my eyes was a fairly fresh experience for .

“Well, then . . . should we eat sothing and then go

back?”

“Yeah, yeah! Wowww!”

“What?”

“I’m so happy you asked !” she said with a big grin.

She was really hyper today. Why was she so damn happy?

From there, we went into a place in Kiya-machi that was

sort of a cross between a Japanese-style pub and a coffee shop.

The interior was decorated to look like a prison, with the staff

dressed in prisoner or policewoman costus, but despite the

place’s peculiarities, the food and the prices were both decent.

I had co here once before with Miiko-san once, during

which we deed it one of the top three restaurants in town,

but that was probably the kind of thing I shouldn’t bother

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 2 0 4

telling Mikoko-chan. Aikawa-san would only take to Japanese

bars that only served Japanese liquor, Kunagisa only ate

junk food, and pretty much everyone else I knew was finicky.

If I really thought about it, having soone I could go to

places like this with was sothing to be cherished.

A (fake) policewoman showed us to our cell, where we sat

down.

“Would you care for sothing to drink?” she said.

Mikoko-chan ordered a cocktail, and I a glass of oolong tea.

“You really don’t drink, huh?”

“It’s kind of a policy. Like how Muimi-chan doesn’t smoke

in front of nonsmokers.”

“Haha, that’s right! You know, it was actually Tomo-chan

who asked her to stop. Tomo-chan rarely demanded anything

from her friends, so even Muimi-chan listened to her just like

that.”

“Co to think of it, she doesn’t seem the type to care

much about whether or not she’s disturbing others, normally.”

“Yeah, but you know, she said she’s quitting.”

“Huh.”

“It’ll be good for her health!” she said, sweeping away the

darkness about to form. At the sa ti, the drinks finally

arrived. The waitress placed the cocktail in front of and

the oolong tea in front of Mikoko-chan. We ignored this for

the ti being and placed our order.

“So you’ve been friends with Muimi-chan since elentary

school, huh?” I said.

“Yup. And even then she was a smoker.”

“And yet she’s pretty tall.”

“Yup. But I’ll bet she would’ve been even taller if she

hadn’t smoked.” Such a thing was virtually unimaginable.

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“You know, she used to be a bully. She reford so ti

during high school.”

“That’s pretty late.”

“She t Tomo-chan, and, well, so things happened.

You know, yadda yadda yadda.”

So things.

Yeah, I’ll bet so things happened. They had certainly

spent enough ti together.

“What about you?” I said.

“Hm?”

“You make it sound like Tomo-chan really had a big influence

on Muimi-chan, but what about you? And Akiharukun?”

She fell silent for a mont, then let out a deep sigh. “You

know, I always thought human relationships were all about

the long term,” she said. “You spend a long ti getting to

know a person, and then one day you start to click. That’s

what I thought. But I was wrong. I was wrong, Ikkun. You

don’t need to know sobody for a long ti or to ‘click’ in

order to be drawn to a person.”

“Why do you think Tomo-chan was killed?”

“H . . . how would I know sothing like that?” She hung

her head down. “There was no reason Tomo-chan had to die.

There wasn’t a single possible reason for killing her.”

“I think the reason people kill one another is actually quite

simple,” I said, ignoring her. “Interference. If so factor is interfering

with your life, the logical next step is to try and weed

it out. It’s just like kicking stones off a railway track.”

“But Tomo-chan—“

“Yup, Tomo-chan made it a point never to overstep people’s

boundaries or be invasive. In other words, there was no

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reason for her to have been considered an interference to anybody.

She was too far out of range to begin with.”

“Uh-huh.”

“To put it another way, she wasn’t even in a position to

beco the object of sobody’s ill will or enmity or malice.

Thus, there was no reason for sobody to kill her. She

wasn’t disturbing anybody.”

You’re only living,

and that’s causing

disturbance to others.

“But it’s not that simple. I an, Tomo-chan wasn’t so

hermit living in the forests of Mount Fuji. She was a normal

university student, living a normal university student’s life. As

such, she had to form personal relationships, whether she

liked it or not. Now let pose you a question, Mikoko-chan,

and please answer with your own opinion. What does it an

to form a personal relationship?”

“Umm . . .” she said, seeming a bit perplexed. “Well, I can’t

say for sure, but it’s like getting close to sobody, I think.”

“Yes, that’s right. That’s absolutely right, Mikoko-chan.

Now if you were to go and rephrase that, it essentially ans

‘choosing sobody.’ But let’s think about that for a minute.

To choose soone ans to not choose sobody else. The

act of ‘choosing’ and the act of ‘not choosing’ are just opposite

sides of the sa coin. I’m not talking about things like how

you can only have one best friend or one lover. Such dilemmas

are irrelevant here. What I’m talking about is that it’s logically

impossible for a human being to be liked by everyone, to be

able to get close to anybody he or she hasn’t chosen.”

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“Hmm . . . It may be hard—to be liked by everyone, I

an—but I don’t think it’s impossible. Maybe not everyone

in the world, but I think it’s at least possible with the people

directly surrounding you.”

“I don’t think it is. That’s what I believe. People aren’t all

as kind as you think. There are monsters out there who only

view other people as subjects to be dissected. There are blue

things that can only process the world in terms of zeros and

ones. There are Mankind’s Greatest ladies who are cynical

about everything in the whole world, not to ntion other

people. There are fortune-tellers who have seen all hope and

all despair in the entire world and still go on sneering away.

Artists who view their very existence—not to ntion the existence

of others—as nothing more than elents in her style.

There are even people who can only accept human beings as

either good or evil.”

“. . .”

“Now don’t you think Tomo-chan’s awareness of this was

the reason she chose to avoid forming deep relationships with

people? She was trying to make as few enemies as possible.”

“Tomo-chan wasn’t . . . that kind of girl,” Mikoko-chan

said, fading in and out, but I mostly didn’t hear her. It seed

she knew herself that such a claim had no basis. “But even if

that was true, the fact remains that she was killed.”

“You’re right. Tomo-chan made sure never to fall in too

deep with anybody, and yet at the sa ti, she showed superb

skill in not letting it show.”

It was the very thing I was incapable of.

No matter how hard I tried.

“But despite all that, she was murdered anyway. Tomochan

was murdered. Now at this point, Mikoko-chan, let’s

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take a look at this serial killer who’s beco such a sensation

as of late. This guy is an indiscriminate murderer. Just falling

into his field of vision or, conversely, not falling into his field

of vision, just happening to bump him on the shoulder, or

even not bumping him on the shoulder is enough of a reason

for him to kill you. He kills chanically. Automatically. For a

killer like that, even Tomo-chan is a possible target. Even I

am.”

“So then Tomo-chan was killed by the slasher?”

“Apparently not. According to Sasaki-san—that detective, I

an. Apparently, that’s the one thing that they know for

sure. Now then, if I might change the subject a little bit, let

ask you this: Haven’t you ever thought there were just too

many people in the world?”

Taken aback by the suddenness of my question, she looked

away. Nevertheless, I silently waited for her answer.

“But that doesn’t an you can just kill people,” she said.

“Ikkun, could you ever forgive soone for murder?”

“No,” I answered without hesitation. “It’s not a matter of

forgiving or not forgiving. There’s a far more fundantal

issue. That is, the fact that murder is the absolute worst thing.

That I can confirm. The desire to take a life is the most despicable

human emotion. To hope and pray and wish for another

person’s death is a hopelessly evil act. It is a sin beyond redemption.

It’s an atrocity beyond apology, and I’ll be damned

if it has anything to do with forgiveness.”

My voice was so rigid and rciless, I didn’t even sound

like .

Complete nonsense.

Who was really the hopeless one here?

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 2 0 9

“Anybody who’s taken a life belongs in Hell, without exception.”

“B . . . but . . .” She gulped in terror at my bold declaration,

but managed to muster up an objection nevertheless. “Like,

what if the person was in danger? Like what if you were walking

around Kamogawa Park at night, and then this Kyoto

prowler guy ca at you with a knife? Would you just sit

there and let him kill you?”

“No, I suppose I would resist.”

“Right?”

“You’re right. And I might even use too much force and

accidentally kill him. The sa thing goes for as goes for

everyone else. But I would also realize in that mont, when

I’m taking sobody else’s in order to preserve my own—I

would realize my own sinfulness. I would acknowledge that

I’m guilty of a sin so deep that it won’t even be forgiven when

I’m dead.”

“But you were going to be killed! It’s only natural to defend

yourself in a situation like that, right?”

“If you start thinking like that, you’ve already committed

the sin. Let’s make one thing clear right now,” I said sternly. “I

am capable of murder.”

“. . .”

“Whether it be for my own sake or for soone else’s, I

could slaughter another human being. I could eradicate another

life, whether it be a friend or a family mber. Why do

you think that is?”

“Why? I don’t know,” she said anxiously. “I don’t think

that’s true. You’re a kind guy. I don’t think you could do

those things.”

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“I can. Without a doubt. The reason is that I can’t comprehend

other people’s pain.”

“. . .”

“For example, I have a certain female friend who lacks

most of the basic human emotions. She’s always super-happy,

having fun no matter what she’s doing, but that’s only because

she doesn’t know any other emotion. As a result, she can

barely comprehend when other people get sad or angry.”

It was the only way she could process the world. Never

able to distinguish between paradise and paradise lost.

“I’m the sa way. No, I’m much worse. I can’t understand

the pain of others even a little bit. Why? Because I

myself can’t properly interpret my own feelings of ‘pain’ or

‘suffering.’ The thought of dying doesn’t even bother . It’s

not that I want to die, but my will to resist it is abnormally

low. And thus this leads to what I was saying.

“There are a variety of ‘stoppers’ that prevent people from

killing one another. One of the most vital ones is having

thoughts like, ‘Gee, this probably hurts,’ or ‘Man, I feel sorry

for this guy.’ Isn’t that right? It is. For example, I’m sure

you’ve gotten the urge to hurt sobody before, right? But

you probably didn’t actually beat the crap out of them or

anything, did you?”

“Mm. I’ve never hit soone before.”

“But I’ll bet you’ve wanted to before, right?”

She didn’t answer. This was the clearest confirmation she

could’ve given. But this was no cri. Nobody can go through

life without ever harboring ill will toward soone, even if

you’re up in Heaven.

“I guess basically I’m talking about an ability to feel empathy.

You understand the other person’s emotions, you feel

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rcy for them, and you conform to them. Of course, this

isn’t always a good thing. Jealousy and envy both have empathy

at their root. An understanding of another person’s

emotions. It’s both a rit and a derit.”

And if, like the woman on that island, you knew everyone’s

emotions, all you could do was break down.

“But let’s not wax philosophical about loss and gain, here,”

I said. “The point here is that I don’t have these ‘stoppers.’ I

can’t make head or tail of people’s emotions. As a result, I

have to suppress myself. Doing so proves to be incredibly agonizing.

It’s not even funny. But sohow I’ve managed to

keep the demons down.”

I had so nerve, living life while harboring such a monster

within myself.

“Ikkun . . .”

“I could reach my limit any day now. And that is why I

can’t forgive a murderer. How could I? The very existence of a

murderer is detestable. Deplorable. I hate all murderers from

the bottom of my heart. I hate them heartily. I think I’d like

to crush them all.”

“. . .”

“Just kidding, I don’t think that at all,” I said.

Our food arrived. Mikoko-chan ordered more alcohol, and

I a glass of water. We sat for a while eating our food in silence.

“Say, Ikkun . . .”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you telling all this stuff?” she said, suspiciously.

It had been such a fun day.

Silently, I shook my head. It was no doubt a terribly cold

gesture. “I just figured you might want to hear it. Was I

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wrong? No, right? And, well, I wanted you to know the extent

to which I was damaged goods.”

“Damaged goods? How can you say such a terrible thing?

And about yourself!”

“It’s because it’s about myself that I can say it. If I’m not

damaged goods, then I’m at least a human failure. Don’t you

think? Actually, people tell that a lot. Anyone who’s

grown even slightly close to has said so. ‘You’re out of

your mind,’ they say. ‘Abnormal.’ ‘A heretic.’ ‘Grotesque.’

‘Shoddy.’ And those are all correct.”

“Ikkun . . .” Mikoko-chan said nervously. “You sound like

you’re headed for suicide.”

“I won’t commit suicide. I promised.”

“You . . . promised?”

“Yeah. To the first person I killed.”

A pause.

I popped a cube of steak in my mouth. “Just kidding,” I

said. “Un fortunately, my life isn’t that exciting. And I’m not

romantic enough to make such an incredible promise. I’m just

an ordinary guy who’s missing so vital component. The

actual reason I won’t commit suicide is that, well, it just looks

bad. You know, like I’m running from my own flaws. Of

course, I am running from my flaws, but I don’t want to look

like I am.”

“Ikkun, I know you’re not like other people, but . . . if you

killed yourself, I would cry. I know I would. Forget about

what you’re missing. You’re living a normal life, aren’t you?”

“Broken things can be fixed. Things that are simply inadequate

can’t.”

Mikoko-chan let out a deep sigh. “It’s like I’m talking to

Tomo-chan.”

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“Hmm? Did she talk about this kind of thing a lot?”

“Well, not really. I an, she didn’t open up to people that

much. But if we ever had a ‘real’ conversation, I’m sure it

would’ve been sothing like this.”

“In that case . . .”

In that case, it was truly regrettable. I felt all the more like

I should have had a serious talk with Emoto Tomoe.

If I had . . . if I had?

What if I had?

Who would have been saved? Did I actually think she

might have been saved? As if.

Rather, wasn’t it because we had talked that she had . . .

“You know, about Tomo-chan,” I said without looking up

at Mikoko-chan. “I don’t think she would resent the person

who killed her. I’m sure she doesn’t, not even a little bit.”

“. . . Why do you think that?”

“Eh, just a hunch. No other reason. But that’s what I think.

I’m sure she’s not the type to resent others.”

I even had the gall to use present tense instead of past.

Present tense.

“Of course, they say she was strangled from behind, so she

probably didn’t even see the killer’s face. I don’t suppose she

could have resented the killer even if she wanted to, I said.

“The killer’s . . . face . . .” Mikoko-chan repeated. “The person

who killed her . . .”

“But Tomo-chan probably wouldn’t have had any interest

in sothing like that anyway. I an, no matter who kills

you, the outco is the sa. In the end, being killed is nothing

more than just that. The fact that you die doesn’t change,

no matter whose fault it is. Plus, Tomo-chan was like —she

had little resistance to the idea of death in the first place. I can

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say this with a fair degree of certainty. She didn’t seem to like

herself very much. She told so that day. She wants to be

reborn as you.”

Hearing that, Mikoko-chan looked like she was about to

cry. She managed to hold back the tears, but she continued

speaking Tomo-chan’s na softly to herself for so ti.

“Tomo-chan . . . Tomo-chan . . . Tomo-chan.”

I watched this, unmoved. Honestly, truly, completely

without emotion.

“Mikoko-chan, who do you think did it?”

“You know, you sure do seem hung up on that,” she said

with just a hint of suspicion. “Have you been investigating or

sothing?”

“Yes,” I answered honestly. “Well, not so much investigating

as wanting to know. I want to et whoever did it. I

want to ask so questions. Or rather, I want to interrogate

this person. You know, like, ‘Can you justify your own existence?’

”

“Ikkun,” Mikoko-chan said, “You’re really scary, aren’t

you?”

“Am I? I personally don’t think so, but maybe I am.”

“You apply your own rules to other people. I don’t know

how to describe it. It’s like while you view yourself as one part

of the world, you view all people as like . . . the world’s gears.

No, not gears. If a gear goes missing, the whole machine

breaks down, but you don’t care if a person or two disappears.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I really don’t think you’re the kind of person who could

just kill soone, Ikkun. But I’ll bet you also don’t hesitate to

tell soone to die.”

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“. . .”

“Am I right? I an, asking the person who killed Tomochan

a question like that is the sa as saying, ‘You don’t deserve

to live.’ It’s cruel. It’s so cruel. Ikkun, do you realize

that?”

“Yes,” I shot back. “I’m fully aware of that. I’m as aware of

my own sins and of my own nonsense-sputtering nature as I

am of the fact that I’m the one who belongs in the depths of

Hell. Soone once told that most murders are the result

of a person ‘going too far’ or ‘using too much force,’ but in my

case, I’m fully capable of fully preditated murder. I’m one

of the rare, deplorable breed of people who can take a life

without any need for self-approval or self-deception or selfdenial

or self-satisfaction.”

“You sure are self-hating, though.”

“I’m a masochist,” I said casually. “And an extrely nasty

one, at that. But that’s my way, my style, my assertion. And I

have no intention of giving that up.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

She looked a bit sad.

It was as if she were looking at sobody in the distance.

Sobody who was already gone.

An epheral, painful gaze.

Her expression.

Her aura.

Surely it was because she never hid her emotions, nor even

tried to do so.

I could understand.

I could comprehend.

It almost felt like I had gone and understood sobody’s

feelings.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 2 1 6

“But that’s . . .” she said.

This was, among other things:

A feeling of affection.

A lovely presence.

An utterance of sentint.

A truly aloof air.

A truly casual aura.

A singular impossibility.

An inability to remain apathetic.

A dazzling nightmare.

A feeling like reality itself would distort and collapse.

I desired a partner. I faced my partner.

The pleasure of being beaten down.

The pleasure of being run through.

The ecstasy of being dismbered.

Cut into little bits and pieces.

A vital component-stealing,

Heart-clutching,

Mind-penetrating

Smile.

“That’s the Ikkun I love,” she said.

A single, thuggish-looking person was crouched down in front

of my apartnt. I approached closer, wondering who it could

be, only to discover (as half-expected, I suppose) that it was

Aikawa-san. Her hairstyle had changed a bit since Wednesday,

suggesting she had gotten it cut. It was a slick style like the

kind celebrities sotis get, where the bangs in front form

a perfectly straight line above the brow. With her already

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 2 1 7

extraordinary proportions, the new hairstyle made her look

even more like a model. If only she hadn’t been squatting like

so high school thug.

“Yo,” she said upon noticing . She stood up and ca to

greet . She had a heartless, sohow catlike sneer on her

face. “So how was your date?”

“You were watching us?”

“I just spotted you in Shinkyôgoku. So I ca here to make

fun of you.”

“I . . . see.”

How much free ti did this woman have? I was amazed.

She was completely ungraspable. There was no way to guess

what she might do next. A wily phantom of a woman.

“So you cut your hair, huh? Looking for a change of pace?”

“To be more accurate, I got it cut,” she said as she tweaked

her bangs.

“Well, yeah, I suppose.”

“Yup. Like this”—flick—“with a survival knife. If I had

dodged a second later, I wouldn’t have my left eye anymore. I

gotta admit, even I was scared.”

She must have gone to the worst hairstylist ever.

“I figure I might keep it short for a while. What do you

think? Does it work?”

“Aikawa-san, any hairstyle would look good on you. You’re

a beautiful woman.”

“Aw, you’re too sweet. But how many goddamn tis do I

have to tell you not to call by my last na?”

She put in a headlock and noogied my brains out

before letting go again. Then she flashed that wicked

smile.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 2 1 8

You couldn’t hold anything against this woman. If you did,

you’d never get away with it.

“So? How was your date? What’s going on with that

younger girl? Hmm? Hmm? Co on, talk to . If you’ve

got a problem, I can give you advice.”

“I think you’ve got it all wrong, er, Jun-san. She’s just one

of the people involved in this murder case.”

“Hmm? Oh. Really. Then . . . by any chance was it Aoii

Mikoko?” I nodded. Her face went blank. “Hmm,” she said. “I

see. Well, either way, I guess if you’re already back at this

hour, you don’t have much of a chance.”

Incidentally, it was eleven o’clock.

Mikoko-chan had imbibed a ridiculous amount of alcohol,

with all the inevitable consequences. She passed out in the

middle of the restaurant. I hoisted her onto my back and took

her all the way back to Horikawa Oike, entered her apartnt,

put her to bed, locked up, and took the bus back ho.

This ti she didn’t look like she was fake-sleeping.

“Too bad, young’un. Want to console you?” she teased

with genuine amusent.

“I’m telling you, it’s not like that . . . and more important”—I

decided to change the subject before I had another

annoyance to deal with —“so about this hairdresser who did

your bangs—was it Zerozaki, by any chance?”

“. . .”

Her facial expression distorted.

And beca one of sheet delight.

“Yeah. Hell of a kid, lem tell you. Still only a secondrate

killer, but as a knife wielder, he’s as good as they co.

He knows exactly how a human has to move which muscles

for maximum speed. And take a look at this,” she said, rolling

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 2 1 9

up her right sleeve. Her arm was wrapped in white bandages,

stained with crimson blood from underneath. “And he walked

away with hardly a scratch. Seriously, that’s one hell of a kid. I

guess he’s living up to the ‘Zerozaki’ na.”

“. . . Is he even tougher than you?”

“It’s not a matter of tough or weak. In terms of sheet

strength, I’m proud to say I’m several tiers above him. I’ll

admit that he is frighteningly quick, but he’s still a hundred

years too slow to deal with .”

Aikawa-san, ever the narcissist. The possessor of unrivaled

confidence.

“Still, when he’s dead set on escaping, he’s really sothing.

He was unexpectedly calm too. As a homicidal monster,

I figured he’d be a little more hot-blooded. But he was

just like you said.”

“How do you an?”

“He’s identical to you. I can’t exactly put my finger on one

specific similarity, but he’s just like you,” she said, her voice

full of cynicism. “The sick masochistic freak and the sick

sadistic freak. It’s a match made in freaking Heaven.”

“So in other words . . .” I said, choosing my words as carefully

as was humanly possible, “Er, in other words, you found

Zerozaki and you let him get away?”

“Hmm?!” She grinned creepily and pinched both of my

cheeks. “I’m sorry, did I just hear sothing co out of this

mouth right here? Huh? What was that? Aikawa Jun is just

so girl who likes to go around bluffing about herself, you

say?”

“No, I didn’t an that. First of all, there’s no way you still

pass for a ‘girl’ . . .”

Squeeze.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 2 2 0

Huh. Who knew the elasticity of a human cheek was so

high?

“Eh, I guess you’re right,” she said, suddenly releasing my

face. She scratched the top of her head with a bored expression.

“I guess I’ve still got so things to learn. Oh, I wonder

if that tattoo face is still in Kyoto.”

“If I were Zerozaki, I definitely would’ve fled to another

prefecture.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, slumping her shoulders. “Oh,

what a hassle. Not that I had any intention of letting him get

away.”

Seeing the icy cold look in her eyes as she said this, I

couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Zerozaki after all.

Aikawa-san looked pretty damn persistent.

“Well, I’m done bothering ya,” she said. She stretched out

her back and began to leave. Evidently she had co on foot

today instead of in the Cobra. “Or rather, I’m done trying and

failing to bother you. Well, whichever. Good night. Let’s both

have sweet dreams.”

“Jun-san. Can I ask you sothing?” I said to her back.

“What?”

“Could you forgive a murderer?”

“Huh? What kind of question is that? Is this so sort of

taphor?”

“Eh, well, to say it more directly . . . do you think it’s okay

for one person to kill another?”

“Yup, I do.” She answered imdiately and firmly. “People

who are supposed to die should die. Heh heh,” she laughed

cynically. “Like let’s say you kill . Just relax, dammit. The

world goes on,” she continued coolly, then waved a hand at

and disappeared from view.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 2 2 1

Geez.

“. . .”

If only I could be so defiant. So filled to the brim with

cynicism. How wonderful it would be.

“I really am half-baked.”

I was sick of myself.

Not just sick, disgusted.

“But either way, Aikawa-san, it’s all just nonsense.”

I went inside my apartnt building and managed to make

it to my door without running into anyone. I reached into my

pocket to get my key when I felt a foreign object inside. I

pulled it out and took a look.

It was Mikoko-chan’s apartnt key.

“. . .”

In order to get her back inside, I had taken it out of her bag

without asking her. I couldn’t just leave the door unlocked, so

I had borrowed the key to lock up. At first I considered dropping

the key through the mail slot, but it was attached to the

sa key ring as the Vespa key, so I ended up bringing it

ho, deciding to just drop it off tomorrow along with the

Vespa. It wasn’t like I just wanted an excuse to try out the

Vespa.

“Besides, the Vespa and the key aren’t the only things I

have to drop off.”

I might have been antisocial, clueless, and kind of a big

jerk, but spending that much ti face-to-face with soone,

you couldn’t just ignore them.

Aoii Mikoko.

“I rember, Mikoko-chan.”

I entered my room and lay down on the floor without even

bothering to set out the futon.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTI CIST ■■■ 2 2 2

It was my first day of college after coming back from that

ridiculous island. I didn’t know right from left in regards to

the Japanese schooling system, and it was Mikoko-chan who

was the first one to strike up a conversation with .

“Nice to et you! Is there anything you don’t understand?”

She was beaming with friendliness. This was the caring

gesture of a girl looking out for a classmate who had gotten a

late start.

I was horribly irritated. And just a little grateful. Because

sowhere in that bright, innocent aura, echoed a slight resemblance

to that precious friend of mine.

This is a real masterpiece,” I said like Zerozaki Hitoshiki,

and closed my eyes.

No thinking about tomorrow.

No thinking about the case.

No thinking about the prowler.

No thinking about private contractors or my one and only

friend.

I didn’t want to think about anything anymore.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 2 4

I’m begging you, please stop getting my hopes up.

“I’ll be back tomorrow. Around twelve. You’ll have your answer

then.”

That was the note I had left for Mikoko-chan on her tea

table. Getting to Horikawa Oike took less than ten minutes by

Vespa, so I still had an abundance of ti.

I awoke at eight in the morning. I did a little jogging to kill

so ti, and after that I regretted it. Miiko-san invited

to breakfast, so I went to her place and was fed. It wasn’t just

Japanese-style food, but full-blown Buddhist vegetarian cuisine.

As a result, the flavor left sothing to be desired, but

there was certainly a lot of it, so it at least took the edge off

my hunger.

“Well, I have to go to work,” she said around ten o’clock,

and left her apartnt.

I returned to my own room to kill more ti. I tried playing

a ga of Eight Queens, just as I had done earlier, but my

brain didn’t seem to be functioning properly, and I gave up by

the fifth queen. I moved on to the Cannibals and Missionaries

problem, but again I got sick of it midway through. If only I

had owned a computer; I could have passed the ti playing

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 2 5

video gas. Maybe it was ti I went and got one from

Kunagisa. But then again, it didn’t seem like a great idea to

decrease the amount of space in my room just for the sake of

having a way to kill ti. Besides, ti passes just the sa,

whether you kill it or not. And like I had said to Mikoko-chan,

I didn’t particularly dislike being bored, and I was plenty used

to waiting.

. . .

As any child won over by shallow wit is oft to do, I read

The Little Prince at a very young age. I didn’t get it. The people

around at that ti told , “You’ll get it when you’re a

grown-up.” Recently I had recalled this and tried reading

through it once again. I still didn’t get it.

“Zerozaki’s gone from Kyoto . . . there’s no way to contact

Aikawa-san . . . and Kunagisa’s a shut-in.”

I truly didn’t have a single normal acquaintance. Of course,

I never particularly wanted one. Still, sotis it occurred to

. I was just a single, lonely guy trying to live, but rotting

away in a cage instead.

“It’s a hopeless situation.”

In the end, there was no way for a guy like , just a single

character in this great big world, to view my situation with

any kind of bird’s-eye perspective. Especially when, as

Aikawa-san had said, I wasn’t the main character or even a

supporting character, but rely the comic relief. I was just

sitting off in so corner away from the world, clumsily

babbling about the story.

And sothing this factual couldn’t even be written off as

self-deprecation.

“Well, I suppose I’ll get going.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 226

The ti was currently eleven o’clock. It was still way

early, but I doubted I could be faulted for showing up ahead

of ti. With that in mind, I left my apartnt and made my

way out to the parking lot. I started up the vintage Vespa’s

engine and put on the helt. It was the stylish, half-size

number Mikoko-chan had left in my room the previous day.

There was nothing I could do to make it suit , but the size

was right, so it would at least uphold its role as a helt, for

what that was worth.

Blast off! I rode down Senbon Street and turned east on

Maruta-machi Street. I broke east again onto Horikawa Street

and rode the Vespa straight ahead from there.

The sweet sensation of slicing through the wind. I could

almost forget about the fact that I was alive.

As expected, I reached Oike within ten minutes. I parked

the Vespa in the apartnt’s underground parking lot and

locked it up, exited the lot, and walked around to the front of

the building.

“Did I really waste over an hour here last ti?”

It was a pretty embarrassing mory. My brain had a

knack for rembering only this kind of thing. I guess the best

thing I could do was learn from these mories and not

repeat the sa mistakes.

This ti I entered the building without stopping. I gave a

quick greeting to the security cara and entered the elevator.

At this point.

At this point, I still hadn’t thought of anything.

How to reply to her confession.

What words I could use to respond to her affection.

I hadn’t thought of anything.

“Just kidding.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 2 7

In reality I had made up my mind long ago. I only had one

word to say to her. There was nothing to deliberate over. If

you thought about the kind of person I was and the kind of

person Mikoko-chan was and added them together, an answer

would erge naturally, just like a mathematic equation. Of

course, reality never turns out like an equation. It’s more like

trying to figure out if the last digit in pi is odd or even. anwhile,

I was standing at the height of stupidity, off in outer

space with my equations and formulae and calculations, trying

to find the area of a triangle by multiplying the height and

dividing by two.

I was the kind of person who changed his opinion in the

end anyway, no matter what he had decided, so what I

thought about now was essentially irrelevant.

I got off the elevator on the fourth floor and walked down

the hall.

“Room three, was it?”

My mory was fuzzy, but that sounded right. I wondered

if she was awake yet. She certainly didn’t seem like she was

the kind of person who had low blood pressure and would

have trouble waking up, but considering how bad she was at

keeping ti, I doubted she was much of an early riser.

I pushed the button on her intercom.

No reply.

It wasn’t simply that there was no reply through the intercom;

there was no reaction whatsoever. No noise coming from

the inside. Nothing.

“How odd . . .”

I pushed the button once again.

No change.

I couldn’t sense anyone moving about inside.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 2 8

Restless. Restless. Restless.

My heart throbbed.

My bodily functions grew abnormal.

I continued pushing the intercom button without speaking

a word.

Once, twice, three tis, four tis.

I quit counting after the fifth ti.

I could feel it.

Not suspicion, but a premonition.

But closer still to precognition.

“It was like watching a nonstop stream of movies where

you already know the ending.”

Wasn’t that how that prophet had described it?

Like sothing you could never touch on the opposite side

of the boob tube.

Suddenly I understood her feelings, and I’d never even

wanted to.

Aoii Mikoko.

My classmate.

Always cheerful, sotis sad.

The girl who said

She liked .

Here now was an image.

A scene I had left behind sowhere.

A nostalgic view.

One that had been all too close to for so ti.

That I had forgotten sowhere along the way.

One that was unnecessary to recall.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 229

A terrible,

Detestable

View.

Death.

Nothingness.

. . . .

I mumbled a curse and opened the door to Mikoko-chan’s

room.

Aoii Mikoko was dead.

A brutal sight. A devastating sight.

I stood frozen in the center of Mikoko-chan’s room. It was

all I could bear to do.

I feel sick. I feel sick. I feel sick.

I feel sick. I feel sick. I feel sick.

I feel sick. I feel sick. I feel sick.

Eiffelzick.

I clutched my chest.

I was nauseous.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 3 0

It was like I had accidentally choked down so absolutely

undigestible object. My eyes fell on the bed. Mikoko-chan was

there, lying down.

Sleeping.

Could you call it sleeping?

Even supposing her body had ceased to function.

Supposing she had no pulse.

Supposing the hideous marks left by fabric remained

etched into her neck.

Supposing her eyes were never to open again.

Even then, there was no other term I cared to use.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. I feel sick. I’m dizzy.

I’m dizzy. I’m dizzy. It’s spinning. It’s spinning. This is crazycrazycrazycrazy.

Or was it I who was crazy?

Right here, right now, I thought I might collapse.

My pulse was going wild.

It was hard to breathe.

It was hard to live.

I thought I might die.

The insides of my eyes were burning.

The inside of my heart was freezing.

I tried swallowing to calm myself, but to no avail. This was

agony. Agony. Agony.

“Aoii Mikoko was . . .” I said, as if making the announcent

to myself, “murdered.”

Whump.

I really did collapse, right there where I stood, right on my

rear end.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 3 1

I was used to people dying.

I was even used to people close to dying.

Death was sothing close to .

And still, this was agonizing. It hurt. It hurt too much.

It was excruciating.

I would probably never be able to forget this. To forget

Mikoko-chan’s “death itself” burning into my retinas the instant

I had entered the room. I would never forget her lifeless,

mindless corpse.

Sohow I managed to maintain consciousness. I shifted

my gaze back to Mikoko-chan’s body once more. She lay

faceup on the bed, her bloated, violet-hued face wrenched in

agony. Having known what her smile was like made this all

the more terrible.

She was no longer dressed in yesterday’s overalls. Now she

wore a snow-white bare shoulder top with a striking pants

skirt of the sa white, but with more of a milky quality. I

stopped myself from thinking it looked like a burial outfit.

And then I rembered. This was one of the many outfits

Mikoko-chan bought during yesterday’s outing. It was the last

one she bought. She had tried it on and said, “How do I look?”

Finally tired of giving made-up answers, I looked at her and

said, “It’s a good match.”

It was that outfit.

When I had brought her ho the previous night, naturally

I hadn’t made her change clothes. I just tossed her on the

bed with what she was wearing. This must have ant that

she had woken up later on and changed.

And then . . .

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 3 2

What had possessed her to put on this outfit? And who

was she waiting for? The power of my imagination was already

completely exhausted.

And then there were the red letters, right by her head.

x/y.

It was the exact sa formula as the one we had found in

Tomoe-chan’s place.

“This has nonsense written all over it.”

I pulled out my cellular phone. I entered a number from

mory and sent it. She picked up on the first ring.

“Sasa here.”

“Hello . . .”

“Oh, it’s you,” Sasaki-san said before I had a chance to

announce my na. Apparently she could rember people

just by their voices. And we had only spoken once. If circumstances

hadn’t been what they were, I would’ve been impressed.

“What’s wrong? Did you rember sothing?”

She was cool and calm. This was sohow offensive. It

was objectionable. Objectionable.

“Sasaki-san, um, right, well . . . Aoii-san . . .”

“What’s that? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. Could you please

speak up a bit? What’s that about Aoii-san?”

“Well . . . she’s been murdered.”

Sothing changed on the other end of the receiver.

“Where are you now?”

“In Aoii-san’s apartnt.”

“We’ll be there soon.”

Click. The phone cut off as abruptly as a human life. I stood

there with the phone held to my ear. Mikoko-chan remained

there in front of .

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 3 3

“Christ . . .” I said to her still body. It was a pointless act. It

was pointless and despicable. “What was I really planning to

tell you?”

Mikoko-chan.

There was no prospect of getting rid of that nasty feeling

in the pit of my stomach. Not a chance.

The police burst into the apartnt in less than ten minutes.

“Are you okay?” Sasaki-san embraced . I must have

looked pretty damn miserable, because she seed genuinely

concerned for “Are you okay?” she repeated. Unable to

form a verbal answer, I simply raised an arm instead. She saw

this and gave a firm nod.

“Let’s get you out of her for now. Co on, hurry.”

Leaning on Sasaki-san’s shoulder, I was taken out of the

hallway. Police were filing in one after another from the elevator.

Hey, now. No Kazuhito-san. Hadn’t he co? Maybe

he was sowhere else, doing sothing else. Maybe, maybe

not.

“Ughhh . . .” My chest hurts. My chest hurts. My chest

hurts. “Ughhhh . . .”

I feel sick. I feel sick.

I really feel like I feel sick.

A discomfort, as if my chest were burning, like my insides

were being demolished, like sothing was raging inside my

guts, seeped into my blood and traveled throughout my whole

body.

It burns it burns it burns it burns.

The anguish was maddening.

Sasaki-san took out of the building and helped into

the rear seat of her Toyota Crown. She sat in the driver’s seat.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 3 4

“Have you settled down a bit?” she said, looking back at

.

I shook my head in silence.

“I see.” She eyed suspiciously. “I thought you were the

kind of person who didn’t mind seeing a dead body. Even if it

belonged to a friend.” She’d abandoned her courteous manner.

“I guess you’re more sensitive than I thought. You looked like

you were dying back there.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll take that as a compli—“

Just as I was about to get the “nt” syllable out, I felt the

urge to vomit. I clamped my hand over my mouth. There was

no way I could just toss my cookies in Sasaki-san’s car.

Sohow I managed to keep control of my internal organs.

Dammit. I couldn’t even mouth off.

“Hmm.” Sasaki-san nodded with a slight look of disappointnt.

“You’re awfully spineless. I’m surprised Jun-san is

so fond of you.”

Ah, co to think of it, hadn’t Aikawa-san said sothing

about being old friends with Sasaki-san? Recalling this completely

irrelevant detail helped distract a bit. I sat up from

my hunched position and rested my weight against the back of

the seat. I breathed in deep.

“Yeah, I’m surprisingly fragile. Of course, I can’t tell if it’s

brittleness, frailty, or if I’m just delicate . . .”

“What in the world are you talking about? You’re not

making a lick of sense.”

“Well, please wait till next ti. Next ti, ‘kay? I’m in a

very irregular state right now, so let’s wait till next ti before

you judge what kind of human being I am. I’m not doing so

hot right now.”

“Guaahhh,” I groaned, and shut my eyes.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 3 5

Sasaki-san was silent for a mont. “From here, we’re

going to have to question you about the circumstances of this

case. This ans I’ve got to take you to the police station. Can

you handle this?”

“As long as you drive carefully, I think I’ll be all right.”

“Okay. I’ll try not to make the ride too bumpy.”

She faced forward and began to drive. Mikoko-chan’s

apartnt disappeared from the window view in no ti at

all. I couldn’t make out the speedoter from where I was sitting,

but judging by my body’s response to the car’s movent,

there was no way Sasaki-san’s driving style could be

defined as “careful.”

“Sasaki-san, is it okay for you to be away from the cri

scene?”

“My job is more about intellectual labor than about that

stuff.”

“That sounds like, well . . .” I wanted to say it sounded like

we’d get along, but I stopped myself. No matter how you

looked at it, there was no way we would get along. “Um,

Sasaki-san?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“How do you know Aikawa-san?”

She was silent for a mont—though it was plenty easy to

imagine the look on her face—and then said, “Sotis I go

to her for help with work. Yeah, that’s all. Do you ever watch

detective TV shows and the like?”

“I know a thing or two about them.”

“Yes, well, you know how oftentis the detective goes to

an informant to gather information that isn’t quite legal? Well,

it’s like that. We have a businesslike relationship.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 3 6

It was an awfully crude explanation. Or rather, she didn’t

seem to want to explain it at all. Then again, Aikawa was a

pretty inexplicable woman, so maybe there wasn’t much of a

choice.

“No, I don’t an sothing that specific,” I said. “Can

you give sothing more abstract? I an, what kind of

person is she to you?”

“Do we absolutely have to talk about this right now?”

“It might take my mind off things.” I really ant this. If I

didn’t get sothing to distract quick, my stomach was

going to burst. “Please, I’m begging you. Just talk about sothing.”

“You pose a difficult question, you know,” she said, after

awhile. “For example, would you believe a story about a person

who took a point-blank shot to the gut from a sawed-off

shotgun and survived? How about the one about soone

who can walk around in the midst of a storm of rifle fire with

a normal, straight face? How about soone who leaped from

the fortieth floor of a burning building a walked away without

a scratch? You wouldn’t believe it, would you? Whenever I

talk about Jun-san, people think I’m lying. So it’s a tough

subject to discuss.”

“. . .”

I understood exactly how she felt, so I didn’t dare press any

further.

In another ten minutes, we had arrived at the police station.

She took inside the building.

“Looks like it’s exactly twelve o’clock—lunchti. Would

you like sothing to eat?” she asked.

“Could we get katsu-don or sothing like that?”

“I don’t see why not. They’ll bill you for it later, though.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 3 7

The governnt was anal.

“Eh, never mind,” I said, shaking my head. If I tried to eat

anything now, I would just throw it up anyway. That I could

say with a fair degree of certainty.

“Hmm, well, then go on into that room and wait for .

I’ve just go to make a quick report. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

She led into a small conference room and made her

way back down the hall alone. Well, at least it wasn’t an interrogation

room, I thought as I sunk myself into a chair.

I want to smoke, I thought for an instant.

I had never smoked a cigarette in my life.

Was I bored?

Was I trying to escape reality?

Or was I just suicidal?

Any one of those was of equal worth, if you asked .

These were pointless thoughts.

This was starting to get pretty bad.

One more push, and this existence known as “,” this

state of being known as “myself,” was going to be over.

“Sorry for the wait,” Sasaki-san said upon returning. She

was carrying so sort of item wrapped in pink. “Are you

okay? You’re looking worse and worse by the second. Even

your hands are sweating.”

“I’m sorry, could you show where the bathroom is?”

“Down that hall, on the right. It’s at the very end, so I

don’t think you’ll miss it.”

“Thanks,” I said, and raced out of the room, clamping a

hand back over my mouth. Suppressing the nausea.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 3 8

I found the bathroom right where she had said it would be,

entered one of the stalls, and vomited everything that had

built up in my stomach.

“Gwaaahhh . . . glllaaahhh . . .” Unpleasant noises that

sounded very unlike they were coming from myself spilled

from the depths of my throat.

An acid taste remained in my mouth. I had vomited so

profusely I thought my guts might have flipped upside down.

Slowly, I drew in a deep breath and rose to my feet, wiping

my mouth with a handkerchief.

I flushed the toilet.

Phew . . .

I made my way over to the sink and washed my face. I

scooped so water into my hands and rinsed out my mouth

as well. I looked into my own reflection in the mirror. Okay,

so I did look like I was at death’s door, but at least I was

feeling decidedly better than I had even monts ago.

“Okay,” I said.

Revitalized, I muttered as I left the bathroom behind. I

made my way back to the room, where Sasaki-san was still

waiting for . “How are you feeling?” she asked.

“I’m okay. I puked, and now I feel a lot better.”

“I see. Here,” she said, placing the packaged item from before

in front of . “It’s my lunch. Want it?”

“Is it okay?”

“I won’t bill you for it, don’t worry.” She chose a chair and

sat down across from . I graciously accepted her lunch. It

was a fairly generic bento lunch, but my stomach was now

empty. I scarfed it down pretty fast.

“Okay, then,” she said once I was finished. “So what’s going

on here?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 3 9

“That’s what I want to know.”

“. . .”

Seemingly a bit offended by my phrasing, she grew silent

and gave the death stare. I recoiled and diverted my gaze.

“Well, then please give the facts, in simple terms.”

“Er, to do that, I’ll have to back up to last night, so it’ll be a

little long.”

“Go right ahead. Until we solve this case, you and I will be

spending a lot of ti together.” She was smiling a little. Her

eyes, however, weren’t smiling, which was frightening. I decided

to quit with the mouthing off for a while and be straight

with her.

“Yesterday, Aoii-san and I went out. We were in the

Shinkyôgoku area. Then, well, she drank a little too much.”

“Oh, really? . . . And then?”

She sharpened her gaze on as if she had been waiting

for this opening. Surely she wasn’t going to get on my case

about underage drinking. I realized I couldn’t let my guard

down.

“Yeah, so then I took her back to her apartnt. I went

ahead and took the key out of her bag and put her to bed.

Then I took the bus back to my place.” I went ahead and

skipped the part about running into Aikawa-san, figuring it

wasn’t necessary to recount. “After that, I just went to bed like

I always do.”

“Did you lock up before you left?”

“I did. Her Vespa was still parked in my apartnt parking

lot, so I was planning to bring the key and Vespa back together

tomo—today. So then today, I went to her place on the

Vespa. When I opened the door and went inside, well, things

were as you saw them.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 4 0

“Hmm . . . how about the door? Was it locked?”

“Huh?”

I looked up at her as if the question had taken by

surprise. I made an expression as though I were searching

through my mory for as long as five seconds.

“No, it wasn’t locked. I don’t have any recollection of using

the key.”

“I see.” She wore a suspicious look on her face, but nodded

along anyway.

“That place has a lot of surveillance caras, right. I think

they should be able to corroborate my story if you take a look

at those tapes.”

“Most likely. We’ve already arranged with the managent

firm for a viewing,” she said coolly. “Now, this is just to make

sure, but—you didn’t touch anything at the cri scene, did

you?”

“No. As pathetic as it sounds, I was just too petrified. I

couldn’t even run over to Aoii-san.”

“You took a very appropriate action,” she said. From there,

she shut her eyes and thought to herself.

So “intellectual labor” was her major job responsibility.

That was already more than clear enough from the ti she

had visited my apartnt. That chess-ga mindset of hers

was unforgettable, even if you wanted to forget it.

“I didn’t even touch Aoii-san’s body, so I don’t know, but

was she really dead?”

“Yes. That I can confirm. She had likely been dead for

around two to three hours. We’ll have to wait for the autopsy

results before we can confirm the specific details, but the incident

is believed to have occurred between nine and ten a.m.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 4 1

“This may be useless to you, but . . .”

“Go right ahead. Nothing in this world is useless.”

That was a line I thought I might like to try saying once

myself. But I doubted a guy like would ever have the

chance.

“When I put her to bed last night, Aoii-san was wearing

overalls. But that wasn’t what she had on today, was it? So I

think that ans she woke up at so point, either in the

morning or the middle of the night. And I locked the door last

night, so maybe Aoii-san let the killer in herself.”

“I see . . .”

“Oh, and just for your information, that outfit she had on

today was sothing she bought yesterday when we were out

shopping.”

“Really.” Sasaki-san nodded. I noticed that she hadn’t been

taking any notes. Co to think of it, that was true during the

ti she visited my apartnt as well. She was just listening

to talk without recording anything.

“You’ve got a pretty great mory, huh?”

“Sorry? Oh, well, it does the job,” she replied as if it was

nothing special. But to it was an extrely enviable trait.

“Also, as it happens, I was eating breakfast at my next-door

neighbor’s place during that nine o’clock to ten o’clock ti

fra, so I think I have an alibi, for what it’s worth.”

“Ah, I see,” she nodded with an apparent lack of interest. It

was as if to say she had more important things to think about

than my damn alibi.

“You know, when you first called, I thought you were

probably the killer.”

“. . .”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 4 2

This sudden declaration left speechless. “You certainly

are direct. Excuse if I’m a little surprised.”

“Yes, well, you would be. But it’s true. The fact is that I

did think that, and I’m certainly not trying to hide the facts. I

thought you killed her and then tried to pretend you had discovered

the body. But it seed you were feeling genuinely

ill, and ti of death and such aside, there was no murder

weapon at the scene of the cri. Which ans it would have

been physically impossible for you to have done it.”

“. . .”

“That is, of course, unless you’re hiding it sowhere in

your clothes right now.”

“Care to check?”

“No, that’s fine,” she said, but by no ans could this be

considered negligence of duty. Sasaki-san had already finished

checking out back when she took out of Mikokochan’s

apartnt. Unable to walk on my own, she had lent

a shoulder to lean on. It was kindness—injected with a touch

of shrewdness.

I didn’t particularly have a problem with that.

“Gee, thanks,” I said.

“I’m sure your innocence will be proven beyond any doubt

once an official ti of death has been established and we

take a look at those surveillance tapes. But only then.”

She looked directly in the eye.

“Who do you suppose did it?” Sasaki-san asked. I’d already

asked her the sa question twice before on other occasions.

“Well . . . I don’t know.”

“Nobody cos to mind at all?”

“Nobody,” I answered promptly. “I an, Aoii-san and I

weren’t really all that close to begin with. It was only very

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 4 3

recently that we had started hanging out together and going

out to eat and stuff.”

“Allow to be a bit direct,” she said. “Were you and

Aoii-san romantically involved?”

“The answer to that is a no. A no and nothing more.

Thinking about it now, I’m not even sure we were even

friends.”

“Ahh, I see. Co to think of it, Jun-san did say you were

‘like that,’ didn’t she?” she muttered, seemingly satisfied with

whatever explanation she had recalled.

“Aikawa-san? She said what about ?”

“Well, I can’t tell you that.” This tease of a statent was

sure to bother , but it occurred to that this too could be

part of Sasaki-san’s strategy, so I was careful not to press any

further. It was easy enough to imagine the kind of judgnt

Aikawa-san had passed in regard to anyway.

From there, Sasaki-san posed several more detailed questions

and ended with a simple, “I see.”

“Now then, do you have any questions for ?” she added.

“No, nothing this ti,” I said after a mont’s thought.

“I’d rather just get ho and rest as soon as possible.”

“I see. Well, that should be enough for today. Allow to

take you back.”

She stood up from her chair and exited the room. I followed

close behind, and together we exited the building.

After getting into her Crown, I sat in the sa seat in the

back. Sasaki started the car and accelerated even more aggressively

than before.

“Nakadachiuri, was it? Off Senbon?”

“Yeah.”

“How are you feeling?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 4 4

“Okay. Throwing up was surprisingly refreshing.”

“You know,” she said while driving. Her voice was stripped

of all emotion. “I can’t help but feel like you’re still hiding

sothing.”

“Hiding? ?”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, nothing in particular. As you can see, I’m just an honest,

harmless, and well-behaved young man.”

“Wow, really?” she said in a rare display of sarcasm. “You

sure don’t look that way to , but I guess if you say so yourself,

it must be true.”

“You sound like you an sothing by that.”

“No, not especially. If it sounds that way to you, it’s probably

because you’ve got a guilty conscience. Although I do

doubt that an honest, well-behaved young man would go

around breaking into cri scenes illegally.”

“Oh.”

Open bag, withdraw cat.

Naturally, I’d been prepared for this risk from the very beginning,

but Sasaki-san had certainly caught off guard.

There hadn’t been a single word about this in those docunts

from Kunagisa, so it had never been clear if I had been

found out or not.

She continued staring straight ahead at the road as she

spoke. “At any rate, please just relax,” she said as if she could

see right through . “That information hasn’t gone beyond

yet.”

“You?”

“That’s what I said.” Her voice lacked intonation. And yet

there was a anness to it. Yeah, sohow it was very reminiscent

of mankind’s greatest private contractor.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 4 5

“I don’t know what possessed you to break into Emotosan’s

room, but I suggest you exercise a bit more discretion in

your actions. Consider this a piece of advice.”

“Not a warning?”

“No, no, just advice.”

But there was sothing very offensive about her wording.

Granted, my actions had been totally rash, and her attitude

was entirely justified, but still.

“Sasaki-san, I’m just asking, but . . . why hasn’t that information

gone beyond you ‘yet’?”

“Well, I have my ways. I won’t go into detail, but I just

want you to realize that I have that advantage over you. That’s

all. But please be sure not to forget it.”

All I could do was sigh. My shoulders slumped and the

energy drained out of my body. This damn pattern again?

Why were these the only kinds of people I ever t?

“Everybody I know is either extrely smart or has a terrible

personality. They all had that sa damn character. Just

once I’d like to et sobody who’s nice. I don’t even care if

they’re stupid.”

“Well,” Sasaki-san said without even cracking a smirk. “I’m

sorry to hear that. But I have no intention of forfeiting my

position.”

And we arrived at the Senbon Nakadachiuri intersection.

“Would you like to co inside?” I asked.

“I’m working,” she said. I didn’t find this particularly unfortunate,

nor did I think the opposite.

As a final thought, she opened her window. “What do you

suppose x over y ans?” she asked.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 4 6

“Search ,” I said after a mont’s contemplation. I knew

she’d never be satisfied with this answer. But she simply nodded,

closed the window, and took off in her car once again.

I stood there awhile, unmoving, then felt the sheer pointlessness

of my inaction. I returned to the building, walked

down the second-floor hall, and entered my room.

This quiet space.

Not a single sound.

Not a single person.

A room Aoii Mikoko had twice visited.

Once I had set out yatsuhashi; once she had co with

handmade sweet potatoes.

I wasn’t much for sentintality. I was no pessimist,

either. Nor was I a romanticist. Rather, I was a misguided

trivialist.

“I guess I can’t say this was a complete surprise,” I muttered.

“I won’t say that. No, no I won’t.”

I recalled my conversation with Mikoko-chan from the

previous day. A conversation we would never have again.

“It was all nonsense, huh?”

Let us hypothesize as to Mikoko-chan’s feelings towards

her killer. She probably wasn’t resentful. Accusing, maybe,

but that’s it. That was the kind of girl I took her for.

There must have been sothing.

Sothing I should have said to her.

What was I really supposed to say to her yesterday?

“This is like crying over spilt milk,” I said to myself.

My terribly lukewarm soliloquy. I realized that this was

probably the kind of situation that usually makes people cry.

The person over my shoulder sure thought so.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 4 7

Night fell.

Miiko-san visited my room looking concerned. “Eat this,”

she said, thrusting a bowl of rice porridge at . She wore an

innocent expression, but her eyes were serious. Knowing her

gesture had co straight from the heart, I started to feel

guilty.

Christ. Just how many people had I caused extra grief by

now?

“Thanks a lot.” I scooped so up with the spoon Miikosan

had provided (there were only disposable chopsticks in my

place), and helped myself to a mouthful. She wasn’t an especially

good cook, but this porridge was pretty tasty.

“Did sothing happen?” Miiko-san didn’t ask. She never

asked that type of question. She was just the neighbor who

silently and protectively watched over . A neighbor in the

truest sense. This was probably sothing entirely different

from true kindness, but she was a kind person all the sa.

Co to think of it, hadn’t Mikoko-chan given the

sa complint? That I was kind?

“Mikoko-chan . . . she died,” I said without any introduction.

“I see,” Miiko-san nodded. She sounded like she didn’t particularly

think much of it. “That night,” she said, “by which I

an the night when the young girl stayed in my room, she

was strangely grouchy when she woke up the next morning.

At first I thought it was probably due to a hangover, but that

didn’t seem to be it.”

. . . .

“I asked her, ‘How do you feel?’ She answered, ‘this is the

worst morning of my life.’ . . . That’s the whole story.”

“That’s plenty,” I said. “Thanks so much, Miiko-san.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 4 8

“You really do lead a difficult life, don’t you? The road you

walk is not steep, but it is shaky and brittle. And yet you’re

able to go on without slipping. You have my honest admiration.”

“I slipped and fell through the cracks long ago. But this

path has a sort of strange gravitational pull, and I’m clinging to

the bottom of it now.”

“Whatever the case may be, you’re entering a crucial phase

now,” she said, her voice deepening a bit. It almost sounded

like a threat. “If you lose your grip now, you’ll never make it.

Everything you’ve endured and built up and worked for will

spill right down the drain. You probably don’t care either way,

but just rember that your life isn’t sothing you made all

by yourself. Don’t forget that there are those you have saved

just by being alive.”

“There are no such people.” Perhaps there was too much

self-loathing in my statent. Possibly as a result, Miiko-san

gave a pitying glance.

“You carry too much of a burden,” she said. “Don’t think

you can really affect people so much. Only the weak turn red

when they cross paths with scarlet. As long as you can exercise

their own judgnt, you’re less easily influenced by others.

Your existence isn’t such an annoyance to others.”

“Mmm, maybe not.”

It was just extre self-consciousness in the end.

Whether I was alive or not made no difference.

Even if there were a murderer in my midst, the world

would go on.

“Still, I’m sure there are those who love you. There are

those who have unconditional affection for you, that much is

certain. That’s part of the world’s cycle. You may not under-

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 4 9

stand it now, but rember what I say. There will co a

ti when you understand. At least stay alive that long.”

Those with unconditional affection for .

Today, one of them had died.

So then how many people were left?

“I won’t tell you to cheer up. That’s a problem for you to

sort out on your own. Just know that that young girl’s death

wasn’t your fault. I can guarantee you that. I don’t have any

basis for my belief, but I feel sure of it all the sa . . . Those

who die just die.”

“But . . . it’s like I killed her,” I said.

“Did you?”

“Well, no, but if . . .”

If.

If I hadn’t left her alone in her apartnt, if I hadn’t gone

ho, or if I had just brought her with , things would have

turned out differently.

“And I say you’re taking on too much of a burden. Do you

realize the pointlessness of such thoughts?”

“Yes. But Miiko-san, I still had sothing left to tell her.”

That one last thing.

I hadn’t yet told her that one last thing.

“It’s useless to regret what’s done and gone. That’s all I can

say.” Her gaze wandered just a bit. “Also, I forgot to tell you

this morning. Suzunashi sends a ssage. She told to make

sure I told you.”

“It’s from Suzunashi-san?”

She nodded. I sat up straight. It wasn’t like Suzunashi-san

was in the room or anything, so I knew there was no need to

do so, but sothing about that na just made reflex-

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 5 0

ively fix my posture. Sothing about that Suzunashi Neon

character.

Miiko-san opened her mouth. “There are two types of

people—those who are frightening because you don’t know

what they’ll do, and those who are frightening because you do

know what they’ll do. But you’re not very frightening at all, so

you don’t need to worry about such things.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Make sure you do. She said she’ll co visit from Hiei

next ti, so let’s all go out for lunch. I think she wants to

give you a good lecture.”

“Well, you had up to the lecture. But I’m definitely

okay with lunch. Just . . .”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, nothing. Thanks a lot for the food.”

I returned the porridge bowl to her. She took it, said good

night and left my room. The word Impermanence was written

on the back of her jinbei. It was the second ti I had seen this

one.

“Seriously . . .” I mumbled to myself. This was a troubleso

existence. Maybe it was about ti I had a day-long

lecture from Suzunashi-san.

But.

“But I really don’t want to go to that restaurant again for a

while . . .”

When would this mind-over-matter business be over?

I didn’t know.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 5 2

Kill every suspect, starting at one end.

The one left standing is your culprit.

Three days later, it was Wednesday, May twenty-fifth. I

awoke at eleven fifty in the morning.

“I guess it’d be cheating to say it’s still morning, huh?”

I rose from bed feeling fairly awful. Lately it had been like

this every day. I couldn’t wake up at a normal ti at all anymore.

I guess you could say my body had been rejecting the

idea. Naturally, once I had overslept, I couldn’t get into the

mood to attend classes, and if I wasn’t in the mood to attend

classes, there was no reason to.

And thus began my fifth straight day of skipping school

since Thursday of last week. For a freshman to already be

doing this in May, it wouldn’t be strange if I ended up having

to repeat my freshman year. I realized this, but I wasn’t particularly

opposed to the idea. There was no one to object—I

was paying for my schooling with my own money, after all.

. . .

Since the recent incident, Sasaki-san had co to visit on

both Monday and Tuesday with Kazuhito-san in tow. She

made a number of detailed inquiries regarding Mikoko-chan's

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 5 3

murder, and in exchange for my answers, provided several tidbits

of seemingly vital information.

She inford that Mikoko-chan’s ti of death had

been narrowed down to between nine thirty and ten o'clock.

They had also confird beyond a doubt that she had been

killed by strangulation with a thin cloth, and that it was the

sa type of cloth that had been used in Tomo-chan’s murder.

From this the police had determined that the sa killer

was responsible for both murders.

‘‘What’s different from Emoto-san’s case is that Aoii-san

appears to have been strangled from the front.”

“From the front?”

“Yes. Emoto-san was strangled from behind. You can tell

by the shape of the marks.”

“In other words, Mikoko-chan saw the killer?”

“It’s possible,” she said, without emotion. It probably

didn’t make any difference to her whether the deceased had

seen the killer’s face or not. It was certainly a rational viewpoint.

She also went over the alibis of the various involved parties.

Muimi-chan was out sightseeing with her younger sister

(nad Muri-chan, as it were). Akiharu-kun didn’t have an

alibi. And of course, I was with Miiko-san. But all three of us

had alibis when Tomo-chan was killed, so none of us were

really pri suspects, so to speak.

“I personally don’t agree, but it seems the big shots upstairs

are considering the possibility that these were just robberies

gone awry, or possibly so stalker who went too far.”

“If either of those were the case, there wouldn’t have been

multiple incidents. It’s too strange to be a coincidence, and

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 5 4

besides, nothing was even stolen, right? There weren’t any

signs of a struggle, either.”

“I know. It’s just that neither of them had the ‘enemies’ to

account for it being a simple vendetta case. I guess it would be

one thing if it was so ‘enemy of the world’ kind of thing—

but then we’d have another indiscriminant killer like the

prowler.”

Speaking of which, the slasher case had co to a standstill.

The number of victims had yet to exceed twelve. In other

words, since encountering Aikawa-san, Zerozaki hadn’t had

taken any fresh victims. He probably wasn’t in Kyoto anymore

after all, just like Aikawa-san and I had talked about. I wasn’t

even sure he was still in Japan. Then again, if I had made an

enemy of Aikawa-san, I probably would’ve fled to the South

Pole. Or outer space, even.

“Still, there’s sothing strange going on,” Sasaki-san said.

“Strange? What?”

“The surveillance cara. That apartnt had surveillance

caras set up as a cri-preventing asure. You said so

yourself last ti.”

“Right.”

“But on the cara videos, there wasn’t a single person

who seed like a possible suspect.”

“What does that an?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. We checked all the tapes from

the ti Aoii-san returned ho—or rather, when you carried

her ho—at ten thirty, but the only people to appear were

other residents of the building and you, from when you

showed up the next afternoon.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 5 5

What did that an? Was the entire apartnt building, in

essence, a locked room? What a joke. It was too unrealistic.

But then again, if it was a fact, such criticism was aningless.

“But the cara in the hallway must have a blind spot

sowhere,” I said.

“Yes. We tried it out. It is possible to reach Aoii-san’s room

without entering the cara’s field of view. The stem of the

cara kind of swivels like this, see. But it’s nearly impossible

without having practiced it beforehand quite a bit, and even

then, your chances of success would be relatively low. Why

would a person go to all the trouble?”

“Well, what if they didn’t? What if they ca in from the

veranda or sothing?”

“Not possible. It’s simply too high and too risky. At any

rate . . .” She let out an exhausted sigh that didn’t seem very

characteristic of her. “I think this is going to turn into a war of

attrition,” she said.

She was probably already in the middle of one.

“A war of attrition . . .”

But no matter how much new information she was willing

to divulge, I had already stopped thinking about this string of

incidents. Of course I wasn’t at such an elevated level of enlightennt

that I didn’t even have split-second thoughts

about it anymore, but I had been at least half-successful in

suppressing that part of .

On the contrary.

On the contrary, I was hoping the truth behind the incidents

would never co to light. I didn’t want to have anything

more to do with it, in any form whatsoever.

But that was impossible. Sasa Sasaki-san was a detective of

imasurable brilliance. This had beco evident through my

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 5 6

several conversations with her up to now. It was clear how she

and Aikawa-san could be friends. It wouldn’t be long before

Aikawa-san uncovered the truth. Maybe she wouldn’t figure

out every little detail, but enough to form a consistent story.

And thus there was no need for to do any more thinking.

Or to put it more plainly, I could already see most of the

facts. One more step and I would have the whole picture figured

out, and that was one step I didn’t want to take. Nor did

I feel much like condemning criminals. I had gone as far as

breaking into Tomo-chan’s room and enlisting Kunagisa’s

help, and here I was ready to throw in the towel, to leave

things as unfinished as a baboon without a butt.

But frankly, that’s just who I am. Half-baked all the way.

I’ve never put up a struggle. I’ve never shown any enthusiasm

for anything.

“Okay . . .” I stretched out my torso, took a deep breath,

and switched channels in my brain. “Maybe I ought to pay

Tomo a visit for a change.”

As a complete shut-in, it was essentially guaranteed that

she would be ho, so I knew it wouldn’t be a waste of ti

to just head there now. She might have been asleep, seeing as

it was the afternoon, but I didn’t care. It would serve as a good

chance to give her a stern talking-to for selling out to

Aikawa-san.

Besides, being with her was sure to cheer up.

With that decision made, I changed clothes and stuck my

cell phone into my pocket. I debated with myself for a while

over whether I should borrow Miiko-san’s Fiat, walk, or ride

my bike, but ultimately I decided on walking. It just felt like a

good day for walking. Of course, that would take a good three

hours, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 5 7

I left my room, locked up, and exited the building.

It was nice out. It had been muggy lately, but that day it

was pleasantly dry and crisp. I thought about how nice it

would be if the weather was always like this, but even I wasn’t

sure that I exactly ant “always.”

“Huh?”

After walking for a bit, I spotted soone familiar. I

couldn’t rember who, but it was definitely soone familiar.

Just who was it? It felt like we had t before, but . . .

He was a dressed in street fashion with light brown hair

and the face of a playboy. He was toting an abnormally large

bag that left a strong impression, but it was a poor match for

his street fashion.

I’ve always wondered why street fashion looked so bad on

Japanese people. It wasn’t so much that it didn’t suit them; it

was just that it always made them look like they were posing.

I suppose you could call it a national trait.

That aside, who in the world was this?

Upon noticing , he ran over to . “Yo!” he said casually.

“Hello,” I replied, but of course I still couldn’t rember

him. I knew he was a Rokuikan University student, but I

didn’t rember knowing anyone like this.

“How ya been? Maaan, I don’t know this place too well.

You know, the geography ’n shit. I’m totally lost.”

“Ahhhh . . . yeah,” I improvised. “Yeah, those things sure

happen.”

“Start coming to school again, man. I had to co all the

way out here. I an I know you’re shocked about the whole

Aoii thing, but man, you’re gonna end up having to repeat a

year. People will call you ‘Double Dragon’ ’n shit.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 5 8

Aoii? Did he just ntion Aoii?

Oh, right. Got it.

“Akiharu-kun, right?”

“Whoa. What the hell, man? Don’t tell you just figured

that out.”

Akiharu-kun had a boisterous, lighthearted laugh. I felt as

though he could see right through and just the thought of

it had in a cold sweat.

“You an you ca to see ?”

“That’s what I an. Just so minor business. Co on,

follow .”

He started walking. His explanation was not very convincing,

but I went ahead and followed after him as told. There I

was, just going along with the flow again.

“Where’re we going?”

“Kitanotenman Shrine. It’s parked there.”

“What’s parked there?”

“That’s the surprise,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite

sit right with . “Man, I knew you were a gloomy guy, but

your face right now is like a full-fledged gloomathon.”

“You, on the other hand, seem cheerful.”

“Well, you know. It’s like, there was the Emoto thing,

right? It’s like that toughened up. Maybe I’m still not over

the shock. Man, life sure likes to just peace out on ya, huh?”

It was an awfully casual way to put it, but I got the feeling

he was trying to laugh sothing off. What was it? I pondered

this for a mont, but ca up empty-handed.

“Akiharu-kun, didn’t Gen. Ed. class just start? Should you

really be here just ssing around like this?”

“Ah, whatever. I don’t care about school anymore,” he

laughed. “I just want to get this favor out of the way so I can

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 5 9

relax again. Let the dead rest, y’know? Besides, I hate that

Inosen guy, so I’m not really a big fan of Gen. Ed.”

That was short for Inokawa-sensei, by the way.

“Really? I think he’s a pretty good guy.”

“Well, I think there’s a difference between good and selfrighteous.

It’s not just the ti thing, either. That guy’s always

trying to force his beliefs on other people, am I right? It’s

that kind of thing, man. I don’t like it. I an I guess he’s not

a hypocrite or anything, but . . . eh, sothing like that.”

“Huh.”

“Besides, I’m not gonna lose any credits just for skipping

class a couple tis. Our school is easy-peasy, man. They say

it’s famous for letting you pass classes blindfolded. Number

two in all of Kansai.”

Where the hell is number one? I started to ask, but I cut

myself off. The less I knew about that, the better.

We arrived at Kitanotenman Shrine within five minutes.

Despite its being a national treasure, sothing about its

proximity to ho made it a lot harder to appreciate, and this

was actually the first ti I had ever set foot on the premises.

“This way, this way,” Akiharu-kun said, bringing to the

parking lot. “Here ya go, man.”

He pointed proudly to a white Vespa. It was a vintage

model. I took a glance at the plate and saw that this was, in

fact, the very Vespa that had belonged to Mikoko-chan, that I

had ridden to her house on that day.

. . . .

“Oh yeah, and this.” He handed the key as I stood

there, flabbergasted. He pulled the helt out of his bag and

gave that to as well. I had thought it was a suspiciously

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 6 0

large bag, but who would’ve guessed there was a helt inside?

“Akiharu-kun, this . . .”

“What do you call it again? Distribution of possessions?

That’s all this is.”

“You an . . . I can keep this Vespa?”

“Yup. You like it, right?” he said casually. He sat down

backward on the Vespa seat. He let out a boyish giggle. “Aoii

was saying the Vespa was the only thing that tripped your

alarm.”

“Hey, that’s not true . . . but is it really okay? I an, these

things are pretty valuable. Shouldn’t we give it to her family

or soone?”

“We got permission. Don’t worry.”

“But, I an, it’s only . We just t.”

“I’m tellin’ you, it’s fine. This was Aoii’s will. Her actual

will, I an. Funny how the two words sound the sa,” he

said contemplatively. “Anyway, that’s what it cos down to.”

“What do you an, her ‘will’?”

“Oh, that’s to say, awhile back—last week, maybe—she

said it. If sothing happened to her, if she was killed like

Emoto, I should give her Vespa to Ikkun. She’s terrible, man. I

wanted this thing too. I told her that, and you know what she

said? ‘Hell no. Go die. Worse yet, go live.’ What the hell is

that, man? We’d been friends since high school.”

“If sothing happened to her?” Sothing? If what happened

to her? “What does that an?”

“Well, I don’t know. Aoii was Aoii, man. She must’ve been

thinking about stuff, what with Emoto getting killed and all.

But I bet she didn’t really think she would be next, that’s for

sure.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 6 1

No . . . you’re wrong.

It has a deeper aning than that.

You really haven’t noticed?

“Anyway, just take it. Think of it as a present from her.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

I played with the key in the palm of my hand, then stuffed

it into my pocket.

“Get your own insurance. I don’t really know much about

applying. Ahhhhh . . .” Still straddling the Vespa, he stretched

his arms up toward the sky. He gave himself a good stretch,

then slouched weakly into the seat. “Things have gotten

crazy.”

“Yeah.” I absolutely concurred. “How’s Muimi-chan

doing?”

“Ohhh, her. She’s awful, man. This might be a bad way to

put it, but . . . honestly, I couldn’t bear to see her,” he said,

casting his glance away from .

Perhaps he was thinking of Muimi-chan, perhaps not. Either

way, these words had revealed that underneath his lighthearted,

casual deanor lay true compassion toward others.

Interesting; so he was that kind of guy. Such a decent

human being that he couldn’t even acknowledge it himself.

Believing he wasn’t anything special, he hid his true values

under the façade of a bad boy. He was a sheep in wolf’s

clothing.

The complete opposite of a wolf in sheep’s clothing—

like .

“After it happened—Aoii’s death, I an—I went over

there once. To Atemiya’s place. It’s in the middle of

Senbontera-no-uchi. Anyway, she was even more depressed

than Aoii was when Emoto died. Eh, but what can you ex-

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 6 2

pect? Those two were buds from way back in the day. I an,

they grew up together.”

“She was that bad?”

“Dude, you should’ve seen the way she looked at . ,

man. I an, co on. Where does she co off glaring at

like that? And she’s not eating. Probably not sleeping, either.

If we just leave her be, I think she’ll die. I want to do sothing

for her, but . . . it’s like, what can a guy like possibly

say? I only knew Aoii since high school. We were never that

deep.” anwhile, I had only known her for a short ti in

college. Even if that hadn’t been the case, I had no words for

Muimi-chan. “She’s gonna end up massacring whoever did

this.”

“Muimi-chan?”

“Yeah. I an, I wouldn’t put it past her. That’s how

friends are, right?”

“But she’d still be committing a cri, even if her victim

was a murderer.”

“Well, sure. You’re right about that. But don’t these things

happen? Like, aren’t there monts where you just toss all

the laws of society and common sense to the wind?”

“Toss them . . .”

“Yeah. I an they really are just monts, like a flash.

Then you co back to your senses. But it’s never pretty.

Hmm, but that kind of thing never happens to a guy like you,

huh?” he said with a strange amount of confidence.

“What do you an?”

“I an you already look like you throw everything to the

wind all the ti,” he chuckled, pointing a finger at . “Heh,

but I’m just stealing Aoii’s lines. Say, would it bother you if I

talked about Aoii?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 6 3

“Not especially.”

“In that case, gather ’round, buddy. I feel like talking about

her,” he said. “Apparently she was pretty sure from the first

ti she ever saw you. ‘I’ll probably fall for that guy,’ she

said. . . . You already knew she had a thing for you, right?”

“You could say that.”

“To be honest, I didn’t really get it at the ti. It’s weird

saying this as a friend of hers, but she was a pretty desirable

girl. I don’t just an she was hot. That has nothing to do

with a girl being desirable. A pretty girl is just a pretty girl.”

“Do you not like pretty girls?”

“I hate ’em. They always look like they’re up to sothing.”

That didn’t seem like it was the pretty girls’ fault to ,

but I didn’t bother interrupting.

“But with her, well . . . even if she was up to sothing,

she would always spill her guts about it. She let all of her

emotions show. There was no front and back to her. She was

more like double-sided tape.”

I didn’t really follow his analogy.

“I’ve never t anyone in my whole life who had their insides

as exposed as much as she did, and that includes back in

grade school. I thought she must be an idiot or sothing at

first. Anybody would, seeing soone like that, right? You

think, ‘Aw, man, what’s wrong with this chick?!’ ”

“I concur.”

“Yeah, but she was no fool. She wasn’t a ditz either. It

wasn’t even that she was emotionally immature or that she

had a low IQ or anything like that. She was actually pretty

sharp and clever, in her own way.”

“I agree with that, too.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 6 4

“As soon as I realized all this, I got jealous, to be honest. I

an, I can’t do that. It sounds simple enough just to be able

to cry when you want to cry, laugh when you want to laugh,

but guys like us, we can’t do it. We act tough or apply strange

logic to everything. Basically we’re all warped. That’s why

Aoii was so lucky; she could get pissed off if sothing bad

happened. She could enjoy herself to her heart’s delight if

sothing good happened. But I couldn’t even acknowledge

my own envy. It just turned into anger.”

“Isn’t there a class on that kind of thing?”

“Yeah. Educational sothing-or-other theory. I’m taking

it too. What did they say again? Modem youth lacks a sufficient

vocabulary? I think that’s pretty true. We don’t have

enough words to express ourselves, so we don’t even know

what we’re getting mad at. Even when we’re really just sad,

we say we’re pissed off. But Aoii was different. She expressed

exactly what she felt.”

“You’ve sure got a lot of good things to say about her,” I

said as passively as possible. “Akiharu-kun, didn’t you ever

consider going out with her?”

He gave a bashful chuckle, but his expression was otherwise

unreadable. “Well, I’m a guy, too, after all, so I won’t say

I never had feelings like that. Especially since I was still a virile

high school student when we t. And I didn’t believe in boygirl

friendships back then.”

“Ah yeah, I’ve heard of guys like that.”

But I also didn’t really believe that sa-gender friendships

were possible either.

“But it wasn’t really like that with her, actually. This goes

for Atemiya and Emoto too, but it’s like, you look at them

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 6 5

and they’re definitely easy on the eyes, but it’s like . . . you

just don’t feel the fire, or like, you wither.”

“ ‘Withering’ is a good way to put it. I can’t say I don’t follow

you on that.”

“Right? So that’s how it was with her. Anyway, she was a

nice girl. Emoto too, but she always had this sort of distance

about her. Not that it was her fault, but still.”

“. . .”

“Well, anyway. I liked Aoii, romantic feelings aside. It

wasn’t like I was going out of my way trying to make her

happy, but I didn’t want to see her unhappy. I wouldn’t let it

happen. So when she fell for soone, I had to help out,

y’know?”

“Huh.”

“You’re that ‘soone,’ man.”

“Yeah, I know. She told herself.”

“Oh,” he nodded. “Listen, I don’t know if I should be saying

this . . .”

“You don’t have to say anything you don’t want.”

“No, I should. It’s just that at first, I was opposed to it. Not

just —Atemiya and Emoto, too. Especially Emoto. She was

unusually upset about it, saying stuff like ‘anyone but him.’

She even threatened to cut off Mikoko-chan if she pursued

you.”

“So you guys didn’t like .”

“You're not surprised?”

“I’m used to not being liked. On the contrary, it’s being

liked that’s weird for .”

“Oh. But we didn’t actually dislike you. We had barely

even talked to you. But the thing is—I still feel this way now,

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 6 6

even knowing you’re a good guy, but thing is, there’s just

sothing freaky about you.”

“. . .”

“Like you could easily kill a person.”

“Hey now, let’s not go nuts,” I said.

“Don’t get wrong, man, I’m not saying you did kill

soone, but it’s like you could kill soone, and you're just

suppressing it all the ti with a completely straight face.

What you've got built up in your belly would take ten regular

people like to choke down. It’s like you’re just pretending

to be human.”

“Geez.”

I responded as coolly as possible, but on the inside I was

whistling. If I had the coordination, I would’ve applauded and

praised him as well. Being so thoroughly figured out in less

than a month’s ti was an entirely fresh experience for .

It was no wonder he and Tomo-chan were friends.

“But Aoii was really stubborn about the whole thing. She

had no intention of giving up on you, so we gave in. But we

told her to let us make a test. You know, to see if this Ikkun

character was really right for her.”

“Is that what that birthday party was all about?”

“You guessed it. I an it really was Emoto’s birthday and

all, but still.” He let out an exaggerated groan and hunched

forward. “But the story just cuts off when soone dies. That

goes for Emoto and Aoii both.”

“Akiharu-kun,” I said, deliberately cutting the intonation

out of my voice. “Who do you think killed Mikoko-chan?”

“Like I would know. I don’t even want to know. If I find

out, I’ll end up hating, despising whoever it was. But I don’t

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 6 7

like hating people and holding grudges and stuff. It totally

sucks, man, I an, am I right?”

“Huh.” I chewed on his words in my head for awhile and

nodded slowly. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Interesting. So Akiharu-kun was living on his own terms.

What about ? What terms should I have been applying to

life?

I felt sobody’s eyes on and turned around. The only

people there were tourists and a group of students on a field

trip.

“Huh? What’s wrong?” Akiharu-kun asked.

“Oh, nothing. It felt like soone was watching .”

“Hmm. Probably just your imagination.”

“Yeah, maybe. But lately I’ve been getting that feeling once

in awhile when I leave my apartnt.”

“Maybe it’s Aoii’s ghost or sothing.”

“Yeah, could be. Yeah. Maybe.”

He was probably only joking, but to , there was truth to

his words.

“Hup,” he groaned as he jumped down off the Vespa.

“Well, that’s enough chitchat for today. Anyway, it’s in your

hands.’

“Yeah, I’ll take care of it.”

“Be sure you do. It’s Aoii’s nto.”

“Yeah. I’ll call it the Mikoko.”

“Ahh,” Akiharu-kun groaned, “I think you’d better not,” he

said. “You shouldn’t attach nas to vehicles. It’s just needless

sentintality.”

“If it’s a nto, it’ll be sentintal either way.”

“Ah, gotcha.” He nodded. “But don’t call it the Mikoko.”

He stretched out one more ti. “Ahhh. Well, I’ve passed on

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 6 8

the Vespa, I’ve said my piece about Aoii; I can die happy

now.”

“Huh?” Sothing about his phrasing bothered . A

blurt of suspicion leapt from my tongue, but I posed my question

anyhow. “What’s that supposed to an? You make it

sound like you’re on your way to the afterlife or sothing.”

“Hahaha. Nah, it’s just . . .” His mouth curled into a smile

of defeat, or possibly resignation. “I just figure I’ll probably be

the next one who gets killed.”

“What do you an by that?”

“It ans just what it sounds like. Or maybe it doesn’t

an anything at all. Anyway, see ya later,” he said without

giving a straight answer. He waved a hand at , turned

his back on Kitanotenman Shrine, and started walking. I

thought to stop him, but decided against it just before saying

anything.

I sighed.

The bequeathed Vespa.

I wondered if it was really okay to use it, but sohow I

knew that if I didn’t, nobody would. It certainly would make

life more convenient. And I wouldn’t have to borrow Miikosan’s

Fiat as much. Maybe that was what Mikoko-chan had

been hoping for all along.

There was sothing a little amusing about that idea. Just

a little.

“Guess I’ll have to buy myself a parking space.”

I didn’t know how that was done. Deciding I’d have to ask

Miiko-san about it, I returned ho.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBISHI ROMANTICIST ■■■ 2 6 9

Whoa. Is that Mikoko-chan over there?

Yup, that’s right. Long ti no see, Ikkun.

Uhhh, oh. I get it. This is a dream.

Ahaha. You catch on quick, Ikkun. I guess that’s about what you'd

expect from such a realist. Or are you a romanticist? Or maybe you're

a classicist. Half and half, maybe. And then you're one-third

pessimist.

I’m not sure that adds up.

True.

Hey, you’re not really Mikoko-chan, are you?

Oops. You got . Well, who do you think I am?

Beats . Who?

You decide. It’s your dream, after all.