The long season of rain had ended, and only a single petal-like cloud floated in the night sky, illuminated by the crescent moon. The breeze that entered the room was warm, despite the time of night, and seemed to herald the coming of summer. Although I became aware of the house lights scattered about in the distance, I continued to press the organ’s keys, my eyes scanning a sheet of music.
I memorized the basic progression of notes that flowed out and then proceeded to slowly hum the tune. I felt a little embarrassed when imagining how far this “la-la-la" melody of mine might carry through a night this silent, and my voice became soft.
As if drowning in the sound myself, I hummed the same song countless times. At last, I had become nearly satisfied with the accuracy of my pitch and took a deep breath, intending to add the lyrics on my next attempt.
At that moment, a voice called to me from the other side of the sliding door.
“Eru.”
It was my father.
It was incredibly rare for him to come all the way to my room to call for me. Perhaps the organ, or maybe my humming, had been too loud. I timidly responded.
“Yes?”
“Come to the shrine room.”
As usual, his voice was serious, but he didn’t appear to be angry. I was relieved, yet all the more struck by how mysterious it was. The shrine room was often used when there was something important to discuss, but I couldn’t possibly imagine what there was to talk about.
“I’ll be there shortly.”
The sound of footsteps faded away. It seemed that today’s practice was complete. I closed the lid of the organ and shut the window.
Suddenly, as I left my room, I became inexplicably hesitant. What exactly was it that he wanted to talk about? For no particular reason, I felt a terrible apprehension.
—Maybe I could just continue to hum instead?
Even thoughts like these passed through my head at that moment.
Of course I couldn’t. As I approached the moment of truth, I somehow managed to steel my nerves a little. I smiled as I thought about my earlier moment of panic and turned off the lights in my room. Beyond the window, across which the curtains had not been closed, a small cloud drifted in front of the moon.
2.
After completing their finals, solely waiting for the start of summer break, all of Kamiyama High School had been enveloped by an atmosphere of lethargy; the Earth Sciences lecture room was no exception. That said, it’s not like I could really say that this kind of atmosphere wasn’t the norm from the start. I had the feeling that it was the first time in a long while that all four members were gathered in the clubroom at the same time.
Each of us sat in whichever seat we wanted, in a room that could fit an entire class. That said, it wasn’t like any of us were that far apart from another. We all tended to sit somewhat close to the center.
Chitanda and I were silently reading. My book was about a ninja, a princess, and their illegitimate child; their story consisted entirely of a rapid succession of major incidents, all completely devoid of any subtle literary workings or underpinnings, with each chapter simply showing someone getting into some kind of pinch or another. There wasn’t a single difficult aspect about it—a truly pleasant read. For a mind like mine, one that had been ravaged by tests, I can say it was an undeniably perfect fit.
I had no idea what Chitanda was reading. It was a large book abundant with photos, so I assumed it might be something like a travel guide, but I couldn’t see it very well from where I was sitting, nor did I really even mak
e the effort to do so. At any rate, it didn’t appear to be very interesting as even Chitanda herself stared vacantly at its pages.
Ibara and Satoshi were scribbling over and over all over an open notebook and talking about who-knows-what with each other… But as I paused between my chapters and peeked at the two, it appeared that Ibara was the one leading the discussion. With a pen in her hand and a conflicted expression, she spoke.
“It’s the hand. The problem has to be the hand,” she muttered.
Satoshi nodded, as if in complete agreement. “I see, the hand, huh?”
“This guy can’t use his right hand... Actually, if I could draw it like it was a psychological thing—that he didn’t want to use it instead—that could set up some good foreshadowing.”
“I see, foreshadowing, huh?”
It appeared they were outlining the plot to a manga.
Ever since Ibara had left the manga research society, she hadn’t shown any reserve with regards to drawing manga. Simply put, maybe because both Chitanda and I had known about her creations, there wasn’t any point in feeling embarrassed or trying to hide it. Or perhaps quitting the manga society had caused something within her to change.
Ever since the beginning, it had been decided that Chitanda would inherit her family’s business. With Ibara also being resolute in her passions, only Satoshi’s and my pathetic indecision was brought to the fore. What a troubling situation.
...No, the two of us were normal. These 11th graders with absolutely no uncertainty regarding their future pursuits—these two girls who only wanted to refine their beloved skills—they were the strange ones.
“It’d be fine if I made someone ask him ‘What happened to your hand?’ but he’s alone in this scenario. Looking at your own hand and then breaking out into some sort of self-deprecating speech feels so forced too... What should I do...?”
“I see, alone, huh?”
As he listened with a huge grin, Satoshi added only this.
“What do you do when you’re alone?”
“What do I do... um...”
Without even acknowledging him, Ibara crossed her arms and glared up at the ceiling. Finally, her eyes suddenly sparkled and she spoke up.
“I see! Nice job Fuku-chan, that’s it! I didn’t have to think very hard about it after all. Why did I try to make it so complicated? All I have to do is make him drink some coffee. He’ll try to hold the coffee in his right hand, but in the next panel do it with his left instead. Yeah, that’s natural, that’s what I’ll do.”
I had no clue what was going on, but it looked like she thought up a nice idea. Ibara drew some broad strokes in the notebook, and then finally closed it with an emphatic “Okay!”
“Did you finish the first step?”
“For the most part. I can’t start drawing yet, but with this, I think I can basically visualize the completed product.”
“Good to hear.”
And then Satoshi added, “This time, at least tell me what kind of story it will be.”
So he had essentially been offering remark after remark to her monologue without knowing what kind of story it was. I didn’t know whether I should’ve been disappointed in him or simply impressed.
Perhaps relieved after overcoming that hurdle, Ibara spoke with somewhat less enthusiasm than before.
“Speaking of coffee, something strange happened to me a while back.”
“Oh really?”
“I went to an art supplies shop in Kiryuu, but...”
“Kiryuu? Why would you go that far?!”
Although Satoshi was the one that interrupted her story, I understood where he was coming from. Kiryuu was the northernmost part of this city and even by car took up to twenty minutes to reach from Kamiyama High School. From Ibara’s house, it could take an hour at worst. There should be at least one art supplies store nearby. With a somewhat irritated expression, she responded.
“Yeah, the thing is... there’s an old tone that I can only get at that shop. I don’t use it much, but it was just in case.”
“Huh, I see.”
What on earth is a tone? I suppose I could at least guess that it was something used when drawing a manga. I wasn’t really interested in eavesdropping any more so I decided to return to my book, only to notice that my wristwatch nearing 5:00. If I were to start a new chapter now, I undoubtedly wouldn't be able to finish it before the school gates close. I decided to save it for when I return home and closed the book. Possibly noticing my movements, Ibara turned to face me.
“Oreki, listen to this, too.”
“I already am.”
“Oh yeah? So, after I finished shopping, I ended up getting really thirsty and decided to go to a nearby café since finals had just ended and all. Apparently they had really good coffee, so I got that, and, like, it had this weird taste. I wonder why.”
“I’m imagining you getting coffee in a café. You’re just like Houtarou.” Satoshi suppressed a laugh.
Ibara grumpily puffed out her cheeks. “It was research, just research! Hey, I was able to think of something good because of it, wasn’t I?”
“I know, I know. So? Why was the taste weird?”
Although it was essentially an obligation to Satoshi, I had gone to cafes several times. It wasn’t to the extent that I could appreciate the subtle differences between different types of coffee, but I could at least distinguish a good one from a bad one. That said, for the life of me, I couldn’t imagine what a weird-tasting coffee might taste like.
Ibara dismissingly waved her hand in front of her face. “Oh, by ‘weird taste,’ I was talking about the sugar.”
I was becoming more and more confused. Sugar is sweet; that much doesn’t change. Satoshi looked confused as well, but he eventually broke out into a smile.
“I understand. It was sour, right?”
“...Fuku-chan, you’re making fun of me, aren’t you.”
“I’m just having a little fun.”
Ibara glared at his nonchalant smile for a little bit, but then finally let out a small sigh. “That’s not it. It was sweet.”
“Wasn’t it normal then?” Satoshi and I unexpectedly responded at the same time.
Ibara slammed her fist down on the desk with a thud. “We’re having this discussion right now because I’m saying it wasn’t!”
Yes ma’am.
Ibara glared at the both of us as if to make sure our mouths were thoroughly glued shut and then continued. “It wasn’t just sweet, it was extremely sweet. I’ve never had anything like it other than those over-sweetened canned coffees, so I was really surprised.”
“Didn’t you just put too much in?” I replied, and then, as if apologizing for not giving enough information, she abruptly nodded her head.
“Let’s see. Starting from the beginning, I ordered a coffee and cake set. It was a lemon cake and honestly not that sweet, in my opinion. They asked me if I wanted milk and sugar and I told them that I did. The coffee that the server brought out had the milk in it already, and then there were two sugar cubes placed on the saucer. I took one sip and thought it was pretty normal, so I added one cube and tasted it again and… well... it was basically sugar water at that point.”
Satoshi nodded gently. “So, it was a sugar cube, huh... If they gave you a small bowl of sugar and a spoon, I could understand why it might be too sweet; you might’ve simply added too much in that case.”
“It was quite shocking for a single sugar cube to turn it that sweet, so I couldn’t help but think it was strange. I’ve been thinking about it a lot since then, but nothing else was out of the ordinary.”
Satoshi crossed his arms and tilted his head in thought. “Hmm, overly sweet sugar, huh?“
“Right? It’s strange, right?”
“It is, but that’s not to say I can’t think of a reason why.”
Ibara leaned forward. “Really?”
Satoshi nodded solemnly. “There are sweeteners that are hundreds—no, thousands—of times sweeter than sugar. If you added as much of them as you would normal sugar, of course you’d get something ridiculously sweet.”
“Hmph!” Ibara gave a single dissatisfied grunt and then continued with a wary expression. “Sure it was really sweet, but, just like I said earlier, it wasn’t as undrinkable as canned coffee is for me. And besides, have you ever seen a shop that gives you sweetener in the shape of a sugar cube?”
“No, I haven’t. I can’t even imagine something like that existing.”
Then why did you even mention it?
“Maybe it was some kind of strong tasting sugar. For example, it used a different manufacturing process, or maybe it came from a difference source.”
Satoshi uncrossed his arms and turned his head to look at Chitanda.
“Hey, Chitanda-san. Do you have any idea?”
“Huh?” Chitanda, who had been absentmindedly reading a book, raised her head as if suddenly being brought back to reality by Satoshi’s question. “Uh, about what?”
Our voices had been fairly loud while we were talking, however it appeared that not an ounce of it reached her ears. With a large grin, Satoshi responded. “Mayaka was talking about how she went to a café and did this and that, and how they brought out some sugar cubes for her. We were thinking that there might’ve been something special about it that made it sweeter than normal sugar. Don’t you know a lot about different kinds of foods?”
“Oh, that’s what it was.”
Chitanda closed the book in her hands and smiled, but I suddenly felt an unsettling discomfort from her expression. From the very beginning, she was a reserved person. She didn’t smile wide, get angry, or say anything bluntly. And yet, even after ruling that out, her current smile looked stiff, almost like it was manufactured.
Chitanda responded in a soft voice. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure. We don’t grow sugarcane or sugar beet.”
“I see. I was thinking you might’ve produced it at some point.”
She immediately casted her eyes downwards, only slightly.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Gotcha. My bad, my bad. Sorry for asking such a strange question. I wonder what the deal with the sweet sugar is then. It’s surprisingly difficult to solve. I’m a little curious.”
“Yes, I wonder.”
Judging by how she responded, since she couldn’t enter the conversation, it seemed she was thinking about something else after all.
Ibara stared at me as if trying to say something. If I had to guess, it was probably something along the lines of “Doesn’t Chi-chan look a little off? Do you know anything?” I shook my head to add an “I have no idea.”
Our unspoken conversation created an awkward silence during the break in discussion. As if trying to salvage the conversation, Satoshi spun around to face me and asked a question. “What do you think, Houtarou? Do you think it was a special type of sugar after all?”
Listening to the conversation, a thought did in fact cross my mind at one point. I didn’t see any real need to bring it up as long as I wasn’t asked, but now that I have been, I didn’t see any real need to keep quiet about it either.
“I don’t think it’s as difficult as you’re making it out to be,” I responded.
“Wait, really?” Satoshi looked astonished.
On the other hand, Ibara’s eyes came alive. “What do you mean? Weren’t you listening? I didn’t see anything other than a normal sugar cube.”
“Then it was probably just a normal sugar cube.”
“Was it that my taste was off after all?”
“I thought you were insisting that wasn’t the case.” I scratched my head. “Didn’t you mention it earlier—what happened to the coffee that the server brought for you?”
Satoshi responded immediately. “She said that the saucer had two sugar cubes on it.”
“That’s right, but I’m not talking about the sugar cubes.”
Both Ibara and Satoshi became quiet as puzzled expressions appeared on their faces. I glanced at Chitanda out of the corner of my eye, and while it seemed she was listening somewhat, she stared blankly as if she had no idea I just asked a question.
“Ibara. When you ordered the coffee, what did the shopkeeper ask you?”
“I already told you. They asked if I wanted milk and sugar.”
“Was that was they said, word-for-word?”
Ibara looked down as if retracing her memories and then finally shook her head. “I can’t remember it very well.”
“I might’ve sounded a bit harsh when I asked that, sorry. It’s only natural to forget something like that. I was just thinking that maybe they asked, ‘Would you like us to add milk and sugar?’”
She nodded.
“But I had taken a sip and then added the sugar cube because I thought it was too bitter. That shouldn’t have been the case if the sugar was in it from the very beginning.”
“You’d think so. By the way, what did you do after you put in the sugar cube?”
“I drank it.”
“No, I mean before that.”
“I had the lemon cake, but—”
“I’m not talking about that.”
Chitanda, who had been merely listening up until that point, timidly began to speak.
“Umm... Maybe what Oreki-san’s talking about is the fact that you mixed it.”
Hearing that, Satoshi immediately spoke up. “Oh, that’s it!” He turned to Ibara and continued enthusiastically. “That’s right. The coffee that Mayaka drank had sugar in it from the very beginning, but the problem was that it had sunk to the bottom, so you didn’t taste any sweetness. After you mixed in the sugar cube on top of that—”
Ibara also exclaimed with the realization. “I see. It had the potency of two sugar cubes mixed into it at once.”
“Yeah, that does seem pretty likely. That has to be it.”
After saying that, Satoshi nodded with deep satisfaction and then turned to smile at me.
“I gotta say, you’re quite the armchair detective, aren’t you?”
It’s not like I came up with anything ingenious… It could probably just be chalked up as a lapse of memory from the involved party—Ibara.
But, Ibara, on the other hand, hesitantly responded: “Yeah... I guess it does make sense, but... my memory is hazy; I get the feeling that I can’t say with 100% certainty that that’s the answer. I feel like maybe I should go one more time to confirm it.”
Considering that the cafe was next to the art supplies store she frequented, she’d probably have the chance to go again in the future. At any rate, there was nothing more we could do with the information we had. Thinking it was about time to go home, I began to pack away my paperback.
At that moment, Satoshi suddenly piped up. “Let’s go to confirm it then.”
As I proceeded to wish the two of them good luck on their travels...
“We have to start working on the anthology after all,” he continued.
“That’s true. You do have a point there.”
“Right?”
In order to prepare for the eventual culture festival, we certainly did not need to travel all the way outside the city; staying at the school would suffice. At the same time, however, a trip to a cafe to resolve the mystery behind the overly sweet sugar wouldn’t necessarily be a bad idea. I refrained from reacting.
All I said was, “It would get too late if we left now.”
The clock on the wall read 5:40.
“That’s a good point. Then tomorrow“—he paused—”actually I’m busy then. I have student council business.”
Tomorrow was the end-of-term ceremony. Being a member of the general council, Satoshi likely had stuff to do.
“Will the day after tomorrow work?”
Not that I cared, but doing preparation work on the first day of summer break would be quite diligent of us. Ibara didn’t seem to have any objections either. Just as I assumed it would be a done deal, Chitanda spoke in a small voice almost like a whisper.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be preoccupied that day.”
Ibara’s face suddenly changed. “Ah, that’s right. I forgot.”
Neither Satoshi nor I had said a thing, but a stiff, impermeable atmosphere suddenly overtook the room. Ibara faced us then continued.
“Chi-chan’s performing in the choir festival,” she said.
“So that’s what it was. I guess that day won’t work then.”
Satoshi nodded, seemingly convinced, but I was left confused. This school had been feverishly enhanced with event after event, starting with the culture festival, but I had never once heard of the choir festival.
“They put on something like that over summer break? Do they have it in the gym?”
I received two cold stares in response.
“Of course not.”
“It’s an event hosted by the city.”
So it wasn’t a school activity. I guess that only makes sense; no matter how much I averted my gaze from the energy on this campus, there was no way I’d go without even knowing an event existed. What a relief.
“It’s called the Ejima Choir Festival, named after Sandou Ejima, a famous composer from Kamiyama city. They do it every year round this time. Choir groups come from not only Kamiyama city, but nearby towns as well. They sing all sorts of choir pieces, not just those that Sandou wrote.”
“Never heard of him before.”
This kind of topic was Satoshi’s area of expertise and his alone. He seemed aware of this himself, and his ego inflated accordingly.
“He was a writer of nursery rhymes in the Taisho era children’s magazine, ‘Red Candle.’ He wrote alongside Hakushuu Kitahara, Yaso Saijou, and Ujou Noguchi. Together, they were dubbed the ‘four heavenly kings of children’s songs. ‘“
That last ‘kings’ bit was undeniably made up by Satoshi.
“I was invited by Chi-chan to participate, so I went to a practice once; but now that I want to work on my manga...” Ibara mentioned somewhat apologetically. While she said this to me, it was likely aimed in part at Chitanda as well, though she didn’t say anything in return. She might not have been aware that Ibara was talking about her at all.
The Classics Club was of course only one of many activities in Kamiyama High School, and outside of the things that classmates and students in the same year did with each other naturally, there was nothing else connecting us. I didn’t know each and every thing that happened outside of the school, nor did I even think it was important to know in the first place. It’s because of this mentality that the thought of Chitanda and Ibara performing together in a choir only came as a light surprise.
Satoshi rested his hands behind his head. “Well, let’s decide when we should meet some other time, then. We can talk about it over the phone.”
Although he mentioned this nonchalantly, he essentially said he would be taking care of it himself. He really was the type of person who took on more work than anyone else and did it without any pomp and circumstance; I really respected him for that.
“Yes, that will be fine.”
With Chitanda’s reply, it seemed that at least today’s activities were over. The days were long at this point in the summer; even though it was nearing 6:00, there was no trace of the nighttime sky.
I put my novel in my bag and stood up. “Well then, I’ll be going now.”
“Oh yeah, see ya.”
I wasn’t intent on peeking, but as I was leaving the lecture room, I caught a glimpse of the book Chitanda was reading. It might’ve just been my imagination, but it appeared to be something along the lines of a career guide.
3.
On the first day of summer break, I made myself chilled noodles.
Perhaps due to the ominous clouds lurking in the sky all afternoon, looking as if they’d bring rain at any moment, it was somewhat chilly out as it neared lunchtime despite the summer just beginning. I couldn’t exactly say it was a perfect day for chilled noodles, but I couldn’t really change the menu since the noodles expired today.
I mixed a rough amount of vinegar, soy sauce, sugar, sesame oil, and mirin to throw together a quick sauce and then cooked and rinsed the noodles. The toppings I chose were tomatoes, ham, and a thinly cooked omelet wrapping that I had accidently forgotten on the stove and let burn a little. I cut the tomato into several chunks and the ham and egg into thin strips. I couldn’t care less about the presentation, so I dried the noodles, piled them on a plate, and then simply dropped a handful of the toppings on top. Finally, I quickly poured the sauce over it and added the finishing touch: a dash of mustard to the edge of the plate.
I took the plate from the kitchen to the living room and prepared some chopsticks and barley tea; with that, the preparations were complete. As I readied myself to enjoy the meal, taking the chopsticks in hand, the phone started to ring.
I stubbornly ignored it as it continued to ring and looked at the clock hanging on the wall. While I was ready to be utterly offended that they had called right in the middle of lunchtime, it had already turned 2:30PM. Since the sun had started to shine in the afternoon, I took the laundry out to dry; it must have taken longer than I thought. I couldn’t exactly claim that the caller had a lack of common sense. I stared intently at the chilled noodles in front of me. Maybe I should be thankful that I chose a noodle dish that wouldn’t go stale. I stood up, swaying back and forth, and picked up the receiver.
“Yes,” I replied in a voice that you couldn’t really blame for being as irritated as it was.
“Hello, my name is Ibara. Is Oreki-san currently home?”
As much as I wanted to tell her that he wasn’t, her voice seemed tense, so I couldn’t bring myself to joke around.
“Ibara?”
“Oh, Oreki. Thank god. What the heck was up with that deep voice just now?”
“I was just about to eat lunch.”
“I see, sorry about that. In that case, don’t worry about—”
The fact that she called me definitely meant that something had happened. I had no choice but to let the chilled noodles sit for a little longer.
“I don’t mind. What is it?”
“The thing is...”
It felt like I could hear hesitation from the other end of the call. She finally asked.
“Do you know any places Chi-chan might go?”
I moved the receiver to my other hand.
“...Why are you asking me?”
Her response carried a harsh tone.
“I called everyone I could think of. You’re the last one.”
“I see.”
I wanted to ask her what had happened, but I could tell her back was up against the wall. The explanation would have to wait until later.
“My first guess would probably be the school.”
“Yeah.”
“After that would be the city library. There’s the place next to Kaburaya Middle School—what’s it called—the café that we went to with Ohinata. There’s also Pineapple Sand, though it moved.”
I continued to offer her names as I thought of places Chitanda might go. In the end, however, my best guess was the library. Even I realized that the possibility of her going to a café on her own was slim.
“Got it, thanks. I didn’t think of the library. Fuku-chan’s doing general committee stuff at the school, so I asked him to look around, but he said her shoes aren’t there.”
“I see... Did anything happen?” I asked, and remembered what we talked about previously, “Wasn’t the choir festival today? Chitanda didn’t show up?”
“No, she hasn’t.”
So that’s why she was in such a rush.
“She goes on stage at 6:00, so we still have time, but she’s nowhere to be found.”
After I heard her say 6:00, somehow I felt the strength leave my body.
“Couldn’t she have just slept in?”
“She’s not like you.”
“Sure, I’ve been late to things here and there, but I’ve never once slept past my alarm. Never mind, that’s beside the point. Doesn’t that mean you just have to delay the preparations a little bit?”
She responded with clear irritation in her voice: “That’s not it. There’s an old lady saying that she rode the bus with Chi-chan all the way from Jinde, where her house is, to the cultural center.”
I guess the choir festival was being held in the city’s cultural center. I could bike there from my house in around 10 minutes.
“So then she disappeared after arriving at the cultural center, huh. Considering you’re calling even me, I guess that means you’ve already searched the building.”
“Many times. She’s nowhere to be found.”
I switched hands once more.
“Should I be worried?”
“I don’t know. I feel like she’ll come in time, but the choir leader ended up getting worried and asked me to call people that know her.”
“It might be a bit late to ask this, but why are you there in the first place?”
“Did I tell you I participated in one of the practices? I just thought I’d come to help out as long as it was just for one day.”
So that’s what it was. “I understand. Well, at any rate, she hasn’t shown up here.”
I had said that as a joke, hoping it would help calm Ibara down a little as she seemed tense, but she responded coldly instead: “I didn’t think she went to your house.”
“Is that so."
“...Well, thanks anyways. I’m hanging up now.”
“Sure.”
The line disconnected. I set the receiver down and turned back to my chilled noodles.
It had one huge advantage that normal soba didn’t: I wouldn't burn myself. I could eat it in however short of a period I’d like.
The Kamiyama City Cultural Center was a four-story tall building covered in red tiles that resembled bricks; it was separated into two areas, one large hall and one small hall, both of which gave a grand impression. I didn’t know how many people each could hold at first, but from looking at the information board, the large hall had around 1200 people and the smaller one 400. A signboard reading “Ejima Choir Festival” stood in the black marble atrium beyond the entranceway with a fair number of people walking about.
The choir festival itself had apparently started at 2:00. The fact that there were still four more hours before Chitanda went on stage was a testament to the sheer number of choir groups that must’ve been participating. Or perhaps there was an afternoon segment and an evening segment. Either way, there was nothing written on the signboard that revealed the answer to me.
I went to the information counter and started speaking to the clerk dressed in a light blue uniform.
“Um...”
The clerk was a woman who, even after seeing I was a student, retained her cheery, polite attitude.
“Yes. How may I help you?”
At that moment, I suddenly had a vicious realization. I didn’t know the name of the choir group that Chitanda belonged to. I thought if I went to the group’s waiting room I’d be able to meet up with Ibara, but because of this I had no way of asking.
“Um...” The clerk’s cheery attitude changed into confusion.
“Oh, sorry.”
I thought for a second about how to construct my question.
Ah! I guess there wasn’t any reason to worry.
“Could you tell me where the waiting room is for the group that performs at 6:00?”
The clerk smiled brightly at me and then started to search through some files in her hands.
“At 6:00 is the Kamiyama Mixed Chorus. Their room is A7, on the second floor.”
As I expected, it was a pretty straightforward name. I thanked her and proceeded to go to the second floor.
I quickly found my destination: the A7 waiting room. Judging by the space between the doors leading to its neighboring rooms, the space inside was probably around 20 square meters. The door was off-white, almost gray, and made of metal. On it, held up by a piece of scotch tape, was a sheet of printer paper reading “Kamiyama Mixed Chorus.” The metal looked as if it would ring like a gong if knocked, so I skipped that and simply opened it.
The person inside looked at me as if someone flicked them in the face. It was Ibara. Once she realized it was me that entered, her eyes widened in surprise.
“Hey.” I held up a hand as I came inside.
As I did that, my foot got caught on an umbrella stand propped up next to the door. It looked rather unsteady, and, even though I didn’t think I put much force into it, it toppled over. The umbrella it held rolled out onto the carpet.
“Whoops.”
“What the hell are you doing?!”
It was supposed to be something along the lines of “the brave reinforcements have arrived,” but I ended up having a terrible first step. An elderly woman sitting in a folding chair nearby said, “Oh dear,” and went to stand up. It guess it was her umbrella.
“Sorry.” I apologized while putting the stand upright and placing the umbrella back in it. My hands ended up getting wet, so I pulled my handkerchief out of my pocket and wiped them off.
“No, I’m the one who should be sorry.”
The lady said only this as she sat back down. She wore a black jacket and a black skirt, reminiscent of mourning attire, and the way she sat up straight left a strong impression.
Waiting Room A7 was just as large as I had initially imagined from the hallway, but the room was surprisingly sparse, giving it a deserted feeling. Aside from the ten or so folding chairs set up in the room, there was only a single desk lined up next to the wall bordering the hallway–nothing more. The desk was being used to hold personal belongings; on it was a row of bags. Along the other walls were more folding chairs stacked up against each other in their closed positions. Possibly due to their performance still being some time away, only Ibara and the elderly woman were in the room. Ibara jumped up and came over to me. As if forgiving me for my earlier umbrella mishap, the first thing she said was: “You came. Thanks.”
Although we had discussed this over the phone, I could only think about how intrusive I was. Who am I to recklessly stick my head into problems unrelated to school? And yet, well, I thought it’d be too heartless to simply continue pulling apart strands of chilled noodles while knowing that something this troubling was happening so close by. With that, I decided to come. That said, being appreciated like this gave me a somewhat awkward feeling. For some reason, I averted my eyes from Ibara’s gaze and looked around the room.
“It looks like Chitanda is still missing.”
“That’s right. She doesn’t have a cellphone either...”
“When was she supposed to be here?” As I said this, I briefly glanced at my wristwatch. It was almost 3:30.
“1:00.”
“That’s pretty early, isn’t it?”
“The choir group representatives had to go on stage when the concert started at 2:00. Chi-chan was supposed to go.”
“There was an opening event, huh? So then her real performance is at 6:00. Have the other members arrived?”
“Everyone who was supposed to come in the afternoon came in time—they’re currently listening to the other groups sing. The members that join us in the evening are supposed to show up around 5:00.”
If that was the case, even if Chitanda didn’t show up at 5:00, there shouldn’t be any major effect on the group as a whole. That was a small relief, but the fact that Chitanda suddenly disappeared after coming to the center without telling anybody wasn’t a small issue.
I was worrying a little bit about whether or not I should tell her what was on my mind, but considering Ibara seemed to be almost desperately anxious, I had to ask.
“Do you really need Chitanda?”
“What?”
“In a chorus, a lot of people are singing, right? Of course it’s not ideal, but missing only one person shouldn’t pose any real problems, right?”
Ibara shook her head. “That won’t work.”
“Why not? Are her parents coming or something?”
“They may be coming, but that’s not the problem... Chi-chan has a solo.”
Dear god. I looked up at the ceiling.
I had no idea what kind of song they were singing, but the person who sings the solo is the star. The fact that she was missing was no laughing matter. While Ibara was probably genuinely concerned about Chitanda’s wellbeing, the rest of the choir group was likely anxious that they might not even be able to go up on stage at all.
In order to shake off the negative atmosphere, I tried asking a question.
“What other information do you have about her whereabouts?”
Ibara took out a small notebook that looked like it could fit in the palm of her hand. She rifled through the pages as she answered.
“Juumonji-san told me she didn’t go to her place. Other than the school, she told me Castle Park and Kobundo Bookstore. Irisu-senpai mentioned a clothing store called Houki-ya and Arekusu Shrine.”
I scratched my head.
“I don’t know about Houki-ya, but the rest are really far. If she came here by bus, she would’ve probably had to walk. All of those places would take way too long to walk to.”
“I think she could if she really wanted to, but I can’t imagine why she would.”
“The train station is within walking distance, so you’re saying she could’ve taken a different bus at the bus center in front of the station, huh.”
“But would she do that?”
I couldn’t see it happening... if it was a normal situation of course. There was a fundamental question regarding all of this.
“Hey, did Chitanda go somewhere of her own accord? Or, and I hate to say this, do you think she got wound up in some incident?”
“Don’t ask something that horrible…”
Her voice was terribly faint.
“There’s no way I could answer that. I have no way of knowing.”
That was only to be expected. I continued to scratch my head.
The knob on the door turned with a metallic clanking noise, and the door itself opened shortly after. Ibara and I turned to face the entrance, but the person standing there was not Chitanda; instead, a woman who looked to be somewhere in her forties entered. She had on a beige jacket and in her hair was a shining ornament made from a gem, or maybe a well-crafted piece of glass. She was likely a member of the choir group.
“Danbayashi-san,” called Ibara.
The woman named Danbayashi wore a stiff expression as she walked towards us and asked her question.
“Well? Is she here?”
“No.”
“I see. This isn’t good.”
Her brow furrowed as she muttered this, and then she continued talking to Ibara as if she suddenly noticed me.
“And this is...?”
“Ah, this is Oreki-kun. We’re in the same club. He came to help search.”
To have her call me “Oreki-kun” didn’t make me feel even slightly more comfortable. As I thought this, Ibara turned her head to look at me.
“I can assume that’s what you’re here to do, right?”
Even though this was the start of summer break, I didn’t come here to play around, as one would expect. As I nodded, Danbayashi-san asked me a question out of nowhere.
“Would you happen to know anything?”
Bewildered, I responded: “No, not at the moment.”
She sighed deeply, almost as if doing it on purpose.
“I see...”
Her expression and voice once more began to ooze irritation as she continued.
“I could tell the pressure was getting to her, but to think she’s not even showing up today. I swear, this is unbelievable.”
“What if she’s just getting her thoughts in order?”
“If that was the case then she should’ve told someone. No matter how nervous she was, disappearing without telling anyone is just plain irresponsible.”
Considering their performance was slated for 6:00, I thought she may have been overreacting somewhat, but at the same time, I suppose it was only natural for her to be flustered when the soloist has gone missing.
However, I couldn’t honestly agree with her theory of Chitanda disappearing due to the pressure. It’s not that I thought she wasn’t the type to get nervous; whenever she found herself speaking on the campus radio, she always ended up scared stiff. Even then, she always managed to do what needed to be done. So, especially in this situation, I found it hard to imagine that she would’ve been unable to cope with the stress. If she was, in fact, not here by her own decision, the reason is likely unrelated to the pressure of having the solo part.
“I suppose we should try calling her house after all.”
Danbayashi-san muttered to herself with her hand over her lips. At that moment, the elderly lady sitting on a folding chair nearby started to speak.
“You needn’t worry; I believe she’ll come in due time.”
“I understand what you’re saying, Yokote-san, but I really can’t help but feel anxious about it.”
Although Danbayashi-san was clearly losing her temper, the woman named Yokote never once lost her gentle tone.
“Many things happen to the youthful—many fortunate things. You should give her another hour without punishing her.”
“Again with that... Didn’t you say the same thing earlier?”
“Well then, I suppose I did.”
Yokote-san remained completely calm, so perhaps embarrassed at her own flustered appearance, Danbayashi-san averted her gaze.
“...True enough, we still have some time left. Fine. We’ll wait a little longer.”
She then left the waiting room immediately after saying this, not even glancing at Ibara nor me on the way out. Hearing the door firmly shut, I asked a question, still somewhat taken aback.
“So, who was that?”
“Danbayashi-san. She’s the choir group’s... how should I describe it? The manager?”
“So the leader?”
“She’s not exactly the lead part, nor is she the group head. Umm, she directs the group.”
I think I get the gist of it. You occasionally meet people like that.
“She mentioned something about ‘earlier.’ Is she always like that?”
Ibara scowled and responded, “Yeah, always.”
I glanced over at Yokote-san. If all the other members had gone to the hall, then I suppose she had some reason to stay here, sitting alone on her folding chair. Another thought struck me, so I decided to ask.
“Hey, Ibara, you said that there was a lady who rode together with Chitanda on the bus from Jinde, right? Was it her?”
“That’s right: Yokote-san.”
Just as I had thought. Although I couldn’t be certain since Jinde is a large district, there’s a strong possibility that Yokote-san lived near Chitanda; they may have even known each other prior to the festival. Her covering for Chitanda to Danbayashi-san lent further credence to that theory.
Perhaps unable to keep still, Ibara started to turn around.
“I’m going to go check the building again.”
“I’ll go in a little bit as well.”
“Thanks.”
She hurried off and left the two us—Yokote-san and me—alone in the room.
Since Chitanda had disappeared just after arriving at the cultural center, the woman I next to me was probably the last person to have seen her. Searching for Chitanda on foot was all well and good, but where we stood currently, there was no way to even guess where she might’ve gone. I figured I might as well learn from Yokote-san whatever I could.
“Um, excuse me,” I started.
She placed her hands on her lap and tilted her head only slightly with curiosity. “Yes?”
“I hear you rode the bus here together with Chitanda...-san. I’m trying to come up with ideas to find her; would you mind telling me anything you may have noticed?”
“Oh my, you’re...”
Without acknowledging my question, she looked at my face and then suddenly smiled.
“I thought I recognized you from somewhere! You were the young man who held the Chitanda daughter’s umbrella at this year’s Living Doll Festival. You did a splendid job!”
Yes, that had indeed happened. Considering she was a resident of Jinde, it only makes sense that she would’ve seen the festival. Well, her recognizing my face would only play to my advantage.
“Thank you very much. So? What was Chitanda-san acting like?”
As I gave a hurried reply, Yokote-san began to think with “let’s see...” Finally, she began to speak little by little.
“I was by myself at the Jinde bus station. Chitanda-san dropped off the young lady by car and then opened window to offer us well–wishes.”
‘Chitanda-san’ must have referred to Chitanda’s mother or father. For now, it didn’t really matter which one it was.
“The young lady and I then exchanged greetings. After that, the two of us stood under our umbrellas as we waited for the bus to arrive.”
Something that caught my interest was the fact that Chitanda was driven to the bus stop. Couldn’t she have gone all the way to the cultural center that way? Well, a simple answer could be that the drive to the bus stop was shorter than the drive to the cultural center and the “Chitanda-san” mentioned must have had more pressing matters.
If I was intending on searching for her, there was still something essential that I hadn’t asked yet.
“Do you remember what Chitanda...-san was wearing?”
Once more, Yokote-san muttered: “Let’s see.”
“She had on her stage ensemble, so she was wearing a white shirt with a black skirt. Her shoes were also black, too, and her socks were white. She also had her cream-colored bag—oh, and her umbrella was a striking shade of crimson. An unusual choice, I thought.”
If that was the stage outfit, then I had no idea what was up with the beige jacket that Danbayashi-san was wearing earlier. She’d probably change out of it before going on stage.
At any rate, aside from the things she was carrying, Chitanda was entirely in monochrome. Searching for her inside the cultural center would be difficult, but it seemed like she would stand out if she were outside.
“So the two of you rode the bus together?”
“That is correct—just the two of us.”
“Which bus was it?”
“The 1:00 bus, on the dot.”
“When did it arrive here?”
“Around 1:30.”
Chitanda was supposed to have arrived here at 1:30, so she had ridden the bus just in time as to not be late. Any earlier and it would have probably eaten into her lunchtime, and there was no reason to come earlier anyways; I applaud her efficiency.
“Chitanda also got off at the cultural center bus stop, right?”
“Yes.” Yokote-san nodded and then added: “The two of us came to this waiting room together, but before I realized it, she was gone.”
Even though the person accompanying Yokote-san had vanished from right in front of her, she simply looked like she was peacefully waiting for Chitanda to return. I wonder where her strength of mind comes from, to display no agitation whatsoever in this bizarre situation.
“Do you have any idea where Chitanda might’ve gone?”
As I asked this final question, Yokote-san returned a peaceful smile. “I’m sure she’s just getting some fresh air to calm her nerves. There’s no need to be worried.”
4.
As I left the waiting room, I could hear some sort of commotion from the entrance hall in the distance. It was the area right before the hallway, where Ibara had gone to check once more.
Although I had come to search the building’s every nook and cranny for her, there wasn’t much time left. Perhaps something had come up, and she had to leave. Ibara saw me standing in front of the waiting room and her brow furrowed a bit.
“You’re still here?”
Without giving me time to respond, she continued.
“Still, this is perfect. Fuku-chan just called to tell me that he’s leaving school and wanted to know if there was anything he could do. I told him I was going to ask you, then get back to him.”
This was a welcome request. Satoshi was a sensible person, so I could trust him with finding information.
“Let’s see...”
We had talked previously about the library and Castle Gardens, so one option would be to have him check those two places, and yet, honestly speaking, I felt like it was gamble with low chances of success. I looked at my wristwatch, and it read a little before 4:00. We would start to feel the crunch soon. I couldn’t afford to use this precious mobility on something pointless like that.
There was something that had been tugging at the back of my mind. I couldn’t exactly shape that thought into coherent sentences yet, but rather than having him run around Kamiyama City to bet on a gamble with chances as thin as paper, I could see continuing this line of thought possibly paying out.
“Have him go to the station.”
“Kamiyama Station?!”
Ibara’s voice was almost in hysterics. “What do I tell him to do there?”
Nothing really, I wasn’t planning on having him go on some kind of trip.
“Rather than the station, I want him to go to the bus center that’s connected to it. I want him to get a route map and timetable and bring it here.”
Ibara opened her mouth as if wanting to say something. There was no doubt she wanted to know why, however her expression stiffened as if she revised her thoughts, and she bit her tongue.
“A route map and timetable. I understand,” she nodded, “How will he deliver it?”
“I’ll be waiting at the entrance. It’s crowded there, but it should be fine.”
“Okay.”
While saying this, she pulled out her cellphone. Satoshi apparently picked up after a couple seconds, and Ibara then relayed my request over the line.
The call finally ended, and Ibara started talking to me once more, phone still in hand.
“He said he’ll be here in 15 minutes.”
Even if you came here straight from Kamiyama High School, it’d probably take more than 15 minutes, and he wasn’t coming straight here. He was also going to stop at the station for me; there was no way he’d make it in time. He might’ve been trying to express how much he’d be hurrying, but I would have felt terrible if he had ended up getting into an accident because of me.
“Could you text him to not be reckless in coming here?”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“I was only half done looking around when I came back, so I’ll finish my search of the building. If I still can’t find her after that, I’m thinking I’ll go search in the nearby park, too. Don’t worry about me; just do what you need to do.”
I had no other choice. After all, I didn’t have a cellphone, so I wouldn’t be able to coordinate my efforts with her.
“I understand. See you, then.”
I headed to the first floor, leaving Ibara as she started to type out her message.
Although the Ejima Choir Festival started at 2:00, the entrance hall was still packed. Since there were a ton of choir groups participating, maybe the place was filling with people who arrived just in time to watch their friends perform. I guess that meant that new people were constantly arriving, didn’t it?
As I stood in the center of the black marble floor of the entrance hall, I scanned all around me just to confirm that Chitanda wasn’t there.
She was supposedly wearing a white shirt and black skirt. There were plenty of people whose clothes matched that description, but none of them even slightly resembled Chitanda. Well, I suppose if she were here, she’d return to the waiting room by herself without any need for me to worry.
I hadn’t noticed it previously, but there were some Ejima Choir Festival pamphlets stacked up on the information counter. I took one to kill time as I waited for Satoshi. I went to the entranceway and stood in the most conspicuous location in front of the large signboard reading “Ejima Choir Festival,” and then opened the pamphlet.
The pamphlet itself was cream-colored and printed on glossy paper. The Ejima Choir Festival start time was clearly indicated as being 2:00, but nothing was written about the ending time. Perhaps it was like that so they could extend or shorten it in case of any unforeseen issues; maybe they had some other reason. The thought crossed my mind that it would make it difficult for the guests to plan their dinner.
The text introducing the participating choir groups was very small. The majority of the page was dedicated to the lyrics of Sandou Ejima pieces. I hadn’t heard of Sandou Ejima until Satoshi had first mentioned him, but it seems like he lived quite some time ago. All of the words seemed archaic. The pamphlet had on it which group was performing which piece, so I searched for the one being done by Chitanda’s group, the Kamiyama Mixed Chorus.
“This one, huh.”
It was a piece titled “Moon Over Release.”
I wonder if no one warned him it sounded like that famous Rentarou Taki composition.[1]
I went ahead and read the lyrics out of boredom.
Moon Over Release
What a beautiful voice, that of the caged bird!
Although I contemplate the virtue of release,
A figure of this fleeting world can never attain eternity.
Ah, I pray once more. I, too, strive
To live in the unrestricted skies.
I release ye, o' caged bird.
How lovely the fish in a tank is.
Although I contemplate the virtue of release,
A figure of this fleeting world can never attain eternity.
Ah, I pray once more. I, too, strive
To die in the unrestricted seas.
I release ye, o' trapped fish.
“...I’m not sure I get it.”
Unfortunately, I hadn’t an ounce of poetic sentiment. Regardless of my opinion on the work, I suppose I should at least keep in mind the kind of song they’d be singing. It looked like they’d be performing one more piece, but I couldn’t find anything about it other than the name, not that it mattered; it was a famous pop song—so famous that even I knew it. It had something to do with everyone living in harmony, or something like that.
I rolled up the pamphlet into a tube in my right hand and started to hit it against my left palm. As I produced a steady, hollow rhythm, my gaze absentmindedly wandered towards the small area in front of the entryway.
From what I could see outside the glass doors, the clouds had all but vanished; an intense sunlight was shining down from above. An elderly woman carrying a sun umbrella walked in while wiping her sweat, and then suddenly smiled. I wondered what on earth had caused that, but then realized she had to have been overjoyed by a sudden rush of air conditioning. From what I could tell, the air conditioning in the entrance couldn’t have been very effective; it has to travel all the way down to the entrance from the third floor. Even from here, most of the room felt unaffected. Well, it was probably preferable to being outside, at least.
“Hm?”
I suddenly noticed something interesting about that elderly woman.
She had on a black skirt and white shirt and carried a small shoulder bag over her dark blue jacket. Since her clothing matched Chitanda’s, I figured this woman wasn’t a guest; rather, she was a member of the choir group. I had no idea if this was true or not, but I was strangely curious about it.
A skirt, a shirt, a jacket, a shoulder bag, a sun umbrella. Air conditioning and a smile.
“Oh.”
That’s right.
“A sun umbrella.”
In the cultural center’s entranceway were a number of umbrella stands lined up next to each other. There were also umbrella stands lined up next to the wall in the entrance hall—probably since the entrance area alone didn’t have enough space to hold 1600 peoples’ umbrellas. The elderly lady, however, continued to hold onto her umbrella as she ascended the stairs.
I suddenly had a realization and headed over to the information counter. Behind it was the same pleasant lady as before.
“Are you looking for something?” she asked.
“This might be a strange question.”
“Of course, I’ll help you in any way I can.”
No matter how you looked at it, I was clearly just a high schooler; there was no need for her to be so polite. What a difficult job, I thought.
“Are the choir performers not allowed to use the umbrella stands at the entrance?”
I thought it was an undeniably strange question to ask, but the clerk responded without a hint of hesitation: “That’s correct. In order to leave as much room as possible for the guests, we’ve asked them to use the umbrella stands provided in the waiting rooms.”
“Okay, thank you very much.”
“Of course. If you have any further questions, please feel free to ask.”
After hearing that impeccably polite response, I felt guilty for some strange reason and turned to leave the counter. With this information, I now understand the reason that the elderly lady earlier didn’t leave her umbrella in the stands out front.
"..."
With this, I became a little closer to finding out where Chitanda had gone. At the very least, it wasn’t there...
I walked back towards the “Ejima Choir Festival” signboard, and decided to think about it a little more. But on the way there, a voice called out, interrupting my return.
“I won’t tell you to look up, but you could at least look in front of you, Houtarou!”
In the place where I had been just until recently stood Satoshi, absolutely drenched in sweat.
“Hey.”
As I said this, I looked down at my watch. It read 4:14. It had truly been 15 minutes since he had talked with Ibara earlier. We even told him to not be reckless.
“That was fast.”
“Was it? Anyways, here’s your order.”
The bus timetable and route map were both printed on glossy paper, folded in his hands.
“Sorry to make you do this for me.”
“No problem, ‘twas but a simple matter.”
His expression then became serious.
“I heard about the situation from Mayaka. She said Chitanda disappeared?”
“That seems to be the case.”
“She wasn’t at the school. At the very least her shoes weren’t in the school’s entrance. Still, this is really troubling.”
“Uh huh.”
It was a half-hearted response; I was focused on reading the timetable.
“Chitanda-san ended up going somewhere in this town and doesn’t have a cellphone on her. I mean sure, I know a place or two that she might go, but there’s no time to check them all one by one. Houtarou, the scale is a bit too big this time, and I’m feeling a little like my hands are tied behind my back right now.”
I didn’t have enough information to completely examine the timetable that he’d brought for me. As expected, the number of buses that passed through Jinde was small, and it looked like there was only one running at 1:00 in the afternoon. I nodded once and then folded up the timetable once more. Satoshi wiped the sweat dripping down his face with his hand, and then continued.
“I really am sorry, but I have something l need to take care of, so I’m going to need to leave soon. But c’mon: It’s Chitanda we&rs