Book Girl and the Captive Fool (19 page)

“Perhaps this boy was like me? Perhaps he was interested in the short-haired girl who only glared from afar and never came any closer?

“Then when by some chance the girl showed him some kindness or vulnerability, perhaps he fell in love with that aspect, which was so different from how she usually acted. That’s how I picture it.”

I recalled what Akutagawa had told me on a walk home one evening.

“If a girl shows me a side of herself that surprises me, I’m hooked. Like if I see a girl who’s usually strong and willful crying when she’s alone.”

Maybe Akutagawa had seen Sarashina like that long ago. And maybe he had been captivated by it.

Akutagawa had been staring at Tohko in open shock, but now he lowered his eyes and looked desolate. Was he remembering Sarashina?

Tohko’s tone also became pensive.

“The rabbit doll was a birthday gift for the short-haired girl. But perhaps since the short-haired girl already had one, the boy couldn’t give it to her? Then the rabbit, which was no longer of any use, fell into the hands of the long-haired girl. Maybe the
long-haired girl told him she would take it. Or maybe the long-haired girl knew all along that the short-haired girl already had the rabbit…

“The reason being that the short-haired girl was the long-haired girl’s rival for the boy’s love.

“So maybe she showed the rabbit she’d gotten to the short-haired girl and said that it was from the boy. This is nothing but conjecture, but… no matter how young she may be, a woman is still a woman. Some will do things like that.”

With a sad expression, her eyes drooping, Tohko continued her story.

“The long-haired girl had to transfer to another school. But before she did, she went to see the short-haired girl and gave her the book and the rabbit she’d received from the boy, asking her to return them to him. Then she apologized.

“Why didn’t the long-haired girl return them directly to the boy? Why did she deliberately entrust them to the short-haired girl? I feel that this also shows that the long-haired girl knew who the boy liked and that she felt sorry for taking the rabbit for herself.”

Sarashina’s face had grown melancholy as she watched Tohko.

Six years ago in elementary school, Sarashina had sliced off the rabbit’s head, cut “Tangerines” out of the book, and sent them both to Akutagawa.

But it was inevitable. She had suffered and been terribly hurt herself.

Her long sleeves swooping, Tohko turned back to face Akutagawa.

“Well, Mister Omiya? You may be suspicious of how this story relates to you. But in the story of these children is hidden a very important truth that will allow you to carve out a new future for yourself here and now.

“Mister Omiya, you are afraid to accept me.

“Thus, you are afraid of a future that’s different.

“From the very bottom of your soul, you are afraid that your decision will destroy everything, will cast it all into disarray!

“Although you are more honorable than anyone, you are essentially like that little boy, afraid that through your own foolishness you will make the wrong decision!

“But Mister Omiya! Who can decide whether the future of those wounded children now scattered to the winds will be harsh and gloomy? Who knows—maybe a brilliant future is opening up before them!”

Shock crossed Akutagawa’s face.

Looking straight back at his shock, the book girl proclaimed loudly and powerfully, “When you close the book, does the story end? No! That’s such a bland way to read. Every story goes on forever in our imaginations, and its characters live on.

“We can make those stories be full of shining light, or we can make them sad and desolate. That is why I, the book girl, imagine a wonderful future for those children!

“I’m positive that the long-haired girl is somewhere new and that she has recovered from her sadness, has reconciled with her parents, and is starting over feeling as if she’s been reborn!

“The short-haired girl has been through another tragedy, has lost someone important to her, and has even hurt herself, but even so she’ll have so many unbelievably happy experiences in her life simply because the future will make things right. I’m sure she’ll enjoy every day of her life, that she’ll struggle ahead, that lots of people will love her, and that she’ll love them back with all her heart.”

Like a ray of light breaking through a gap in the clouds, Tohko’s strong, kind voice rang out regally.

“Well, Mister Omiya?

“We are all tied to many other things. To our families, our friends, our lovers; to anger, joy, sadness, hatred!

“All of those things are necessary to someone, and they might think that they would die if they cut them off. But people are born into this world by cutting the cord that ties them to their mother. There are futures you can never embark upon without severing your ties.

“There are things you can only learn by breaking everything apart or by hurting others. There are vistas that come into view the same way. And hearts.

“While the story I just told you tells of human foolishness and sadness, it is also a story of rebirth, a story of beginnings! A bright future is waiting with open arms. That’s what that story is! And our story, also…”

A flush spread over Tohko’s cheeks, and her eyes glinted like vibrant stars.

Her voice was filled with a bright hope.

Akutagawa listened to the future Tohko told him about with simple shock in his eyes. In the audience, Sarashina was trembling and weeping.

“Are you aware of the amazing Doctor Truth who appears in the story of a famous White Birch Society author? In his pursuit of truth and beauty, he says the following: ‘If you never throw your hands up in defeat in your life, you will never know what’s true! When there are things you can’t bear, it’s all right to just cry! Things we can bear have no power to reform us. It’s because there are things in life we can’t bear that humans can be reborn!’

“Through his many stories, the author who sent Doctor Truth out into the world sang the praises of the strength and goodness people have. He believed in people, loved people, and wrote stories of rebirth in straightforward, unaffected language!

“Of course, there are times when you’re unable to believe in yourself, let alone other people, and there will be setbacks and failures. Everyone carries with them their own pain and confusion and suffering. No one is free from troubles. No one is free from suffering. No one in the world is free from failing at least once!

“Because human beings are all fools!

“Me and you and the characters in every creative work ever made and the flesh-and-blood people living in the world—all of them have something about them that’s foolish.

“If people weren’t fools, they could never create art or literature! All of us, every single one, is a fool!

“Schools and society are just groups of fools. You need to understand that first of all!”

The dark shadows in Akutagawa’s eyes faded, as if he was slowly waking up from a nightmare at the dawn after a long, long night.

His tensed jaw relaxed, and a refreshed expression came over his face that seemed to wash away all his pain and suffering.

Tohko had used all her strength to tell him that.

In the darkness, she was strikingly illuminated by the spotlight.

Her glossy black hair, her sweat-soaked cheek and forehead, the line of her neck—all glistened like they were inlaid with stars from the night sky. Without pausing for an instant, still strong, her pink lips continued to weave together words of warmth.

“Don’t worry about everything that could possibly happen and then freeze up because you’re trying to be clever! Don’t be prisoner to the chains that bind you!

“Try imagining something happy, that the future is bright and wonderful! Your imagination might go too far and you might
fail, or you might feel pathetic or embarrassed, and of course it’s wrong to hurt people for a mistaken dream. But if you make a mistake and stumble, you should get back up and keep walking!

“Even if painful things happen, the future will only make it right for you in the end, so don’t get discouraged. We’re all fools anyway, so be a fool who holds ideals in your heart. Be a fool who acts without being afraid of failure.

“It’s all right to be a fool. Speak your mind, your truth, to your heart’s content and in your own way with your voice and your words! Decide in your heart on the path you’ll take!”

A warmly lit sky at sunset filled my mind.

A bright, soft, orange-colored sky…

First one, then another vividly colored tangerine tossed up at it.

Tohko’s pale hands throwing tangerines one after another into the evening sky, arcing overhead.

Three. Four. Five.

With a sunny smile, with kind eyes, with her braids swinging, laughing in a bright voice—

The gloom lodged in my heart melted away in a tangy fragrance.

Akutagawa’s jaw was set, and there was a flash of decisiveness in his eyes.

“I will send him a letter. Forgive me, Nojima.”

He had whispered the words quietly but distinctly.

It was Akutagawa’s break from the past.

I heard it and so did Sarashina.

Sarashina was no longer trembling. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, but she lifted her face and watched the stage with something like a prayer in her eyes.

Straightening his back, Akutagawa threw a hand out toward Tohko and shouted, his face burning with passion, “My beloved
angel, come to Paris with Takeko. Send me every picture of you since you were a baby. Even if it costs me the world, I would not lose you. But if I gain all the world with you by my side, what fortune—what fortune that would be.”

A smile split Tohko’s face, spreading exquisitely over her features.

Her long black hair spread like wings as she ran to Akutagawa.

The spotlight chased after her.

Then the light shining on Akutagawa and the light shining on Tohko mingled and pooled into one spotlight. Tohko spread her arms wide, her face erupting with joy, and threw herself against Akutagawa’s chest with the force of a tackle and hugged him.

“Thank you! Thank you, Mister Omiya! Thank you!”

Normally the scene should have had Sugiko slowly walking toward Omiya with a smile and Omiya approaching Sugiko; then Sugiko would gently rest her hand in Omiya’s, and the two would look into each other’s eyes and smile.

But Tohko was probably much too happy.

Akutagawa’s eyes bugged out when she embraced him unexpectedly, but his face quickly brightened, and he gently hugged her back.

As far as the story went, it had been a flawless performance of an iconic scene. But to be honest, watching it flaunted right in front of me made me jealous.

You’re too excitable, Tohko.

Maybe the reason my heart throbbed and I started to feel bitter and forlorn was that I had synced up with Nojima’s emotions.

Darkness fell over the stage, and the joyous lovers disappeared into shadow.

A light overhead picked me out, crouched in the center of the empty stage and gaping down at the magazine I held open.

Omiya had gained the woman he loved best in exchange for
friendship, but Nojima had lost his best friend and the woman he loved in one blow. It was difficult to confront that pain, that despair, that suffering.

But as Tohko had said, there are futures you can’t embark upon without severing your ties.

There are things you can only discover by breaking everything apart or by hurting others. There are vistas that come into view the same way. And hearts.

Now I, too, wanted to believe that.

That beyond the darkness, a new world was opening up.

That even if we passed each other by, even if we insulted each other, even if we beat each other apart, even if we were separated, even if we hurt and were hurt, we would be able to join hands again some day—I wanted to believe that relationships like that existed.

So I wouldn’t be afraid to make decisions anymore, either.

I tore the magazine in half and stood up, then threw the mask Omiya had sent against the stage.

The plaster mask shattered loudly and sent white chips flying.

I screamed at the audience, as if breaking the heavy chains that had bound me until now. “I can endure this alone. And something will be born of this loneliness. Perhaps a time will come when I will shake your hands on a mountaintop. But until then, the two of us will walk different paths.”

The strength went out of my legs, and I collapsed once more to the stage.

In the light that gradually faded and disappeared, I bowed my head and held it, moaning in a low voice.

“I have at last withstood loneliness. Must I endure even more now, utterly alone? Help me, Lord.”

I would probably burrow into my bed and cry again.

I would probably have regrets and disappointments.

I can’t face this pain—
I would probably think that, too.

But even so, a person cries, and then afterward they get back up and start walking again.

That’s when their real story begins.

As I huddled in the darkness, the sound of copious applause and cheers reached my ears, rocking the auditorium.