Part VI: Records in Oblivion
Beyond the briar’s thorns there once was a deep forest, wrapped in fog.
From it wafted the smell of green and the tiny whispers of insects.
And deep into it, I passed.
And further still did I walk.
Until I chanced upon a knoll untouched by our sun, where I found myself in
the company of children.
And finally I did come to my senses, and realizing the lateness of the hour,
resolved to press home.
“But you needn’t go home. For here, your eternity awaits.”
The forest children began to sing.
And I wondered what eternity was.
“It is when you linger.”
“It is when you are unchanging.”
The chorus of cradles recited in melancholy unison.
Starlight shone quietly on the grass of the mound.
The fog flowed together like purest milk behind me.
And over my shoulder, the path home had been lost.
I know little of this eternity.
I try to hurry home.
To a home far from this place.
A home far from the children and the forest.
And wrapped in the smell of green and the tiny whispers of insects,
Inside the deep forest, wrapped in fog beyond the briar’s thorns,
They denied me home for an eternity.
4 • KINOKO NASU
Records in Oblivion - I
December this year was less cold than I had anticipated, but was still
enough to bring a white cloud of breath with every whisper. Nevertheless,
yesterday was its final day, and with it, the final day of the year. Today is
a new year, my sixteenth one. Surely, for many people around the world
today, they are greeting each other in a warm “Happy New Year,” treasuring
the one chance in a year they can share the warmth and sense of new
opportunity with other people.
Not for me, though. In fact, New Year to me has become the time of the
year where I want to chide myself for my stupidity, a time when the pillows
in my room are in danger of my desire to hurl them against the wall and
stomp on them to vent; a time where I just want to will the rest of the day
away. Sadly, human hearts and memory are not such convenient things.
And so it is with a certain glumness of spirit that I hurry and make my
preparations to go to Miss Tōko’s office.
Though I belong to a thoroughly pedestrian household, my family still
Insists that I dress in a kimono for the first shrine visit of the New Year.
Indeed, they’ve already lain it out for me in my bed. Still, I’ve never been
one for the traditional clothing, so I ignore it and head out of my room to
go downstairs.
“Oh, Azaka dear, are you going out?” my mother asks as I climb down
the stairs
“Yes. Just going to meet someone who I owe a favor to. I’ll be home
before dark,” I say with my best smile as I depart from the Kokutō residence—my
household.
The sky of the early afternoon day is filled with clouds, and not too
friendly ones, it seems. Still, I think for a while that it reflects my mood
perfectly, and just that little bit of acknowledgement (by the world no less!)
eases my steps just a bit.
I didn’t always hate this particular time of the year. There was a time
when, just like any other person, I actually looked forward to it. But it was
in 1996, exactly three years ago from this day, when that changed; my thirteenth
New Year when I went back to my real home for the holidays.
The story truly starts with me, Azaka Kokutō, and the weak constitution
that my body was cursed with. I’ve never had any high grades in PE, and
everyone could tell the Tōkyō air was bad for my continued health. And so
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - I • 5
with that reason, the family packed me away to live with my uncle in the
countryside when I was only ten years old. Since then, I only came home
during summer and winter breaks, but even then I couldn’t stand to go
back. My uncle treated me like his own adopted daughter, and raised me
away from my family. I preferred to keep it that way—even past the point
where my constitution eventually improved to become normal and render
the entire arrangement moot—for my own reasons.
For you see, I have a brother, Mikiya Kokutō. And I love him.
To clarify, this is not, as you might be suspecting, the familial love between
close siblings, but the romantic sort of love between a boy and a
girl. Of course, one might suspect that a ten year old elementary school
girl might be mistaken, and it would not be wrong to assume such a conclusion.
But I was no idiot, even back then, and I knew better than most
exactly what sort of affection I was entertaining. And though I can accept
my assumption of my possession of higher than average intelligence as a
comfortable lie I can tell myself, I cannot accept that my feelings for Mikiya
are anything other than real. Once I even harbored childish thoughts of
somehow spiriting him away from other people, never to let another see
him. Though my feelings have since taken on a more sensible form, my
fondness for Mikiya never wavered. I’ve known from the start that this was
a feeling never to be voiced, so as I grew older, I only waited, biding my
time for a chance.
Even my retreat to the countryside was all part of my elaborate plan to
separate myself from Mikiya, all for the sake of building in him a propensity
to see in me something else, something other than being his little sister. I
don’t care what it says in the family registry. I left that behind long ago, and
I’ll only truly come back after Mikiya’s forgotten me as a sister completely.
Until then, though, I’d spend my days like a lady of manners. After all, I
know exactly what Mikiya likes, so this was a fairly simple process. It was a
plan so perfect even I have to marvel at its genius.
But then of course, a meddler had to make her goddamned appearance.
Pardon my words. It was three years ago, back in my junior high school
days when I first explored the notions of love. It was the winter holidays,
and I went back to the house when, of all the stupidest things to do, Mikiya
brought home a classmate of his. It was clear for anyone to see that he
and this woman named Shiki Ryōgi were dating. And when I saw this, I had
the curious and not altogether pleasant feeling of having baked yourself
a lovely cake, only for it to be beset by the desperate and hungry the moment
you look away. The thought that my brother, who always seemed so
aloof before, would now be dating a girl, had never entered my wildest
6 • KINOKO NASU
imaginings. I mean, think about it. He’d never even so much as looked that
way at any woman before, let alone had a relationship with one!
I think I spent the next few days after that in a complete daze, sleepwalking
maybe, until I finally came back to the countryside. It was not long
after that when, still in distress over what to do about the girl, I got wind
of the traffic accident and coma that befell Shiki Ryōgi. And so Mikiya was
alone once again. I must confess that when Mikiya told me the news by
letter as I sipped my tea on the terrace of my uncle’s house, that I sympathized
with the poor girl. Even though I only met her once, I remember her
laughing heartily at what Mikiya had to say, her attitude full of energy. But
I would be lying if I didn’t say that I felt some measure of relief. No girl of
idle interest like Shiki would ever catch Mikiya’s eye again. All I need do was
graduate high school with recognition, and get myself into a sufficiently
reputable university. Only a few more steps; a few more years—perhaps
eight—until the notion of my sibling relationship with Mikiya was severed.
But my enemy proved herself to be no common ken indeed, because
only last spring, Shiki regained her consciousness. Mikiya was beside himself
with joy at the news as he told me over the phone, but it only served
to harden my resolve. I would say nothing to him about my feelings, but
only until I graduate from high school. I would need to be frank with myself,
more so than before. And from there, I picked up the pace. My choice
of high school was perfect: a boarding school called Reien Girl’s Academy,
where tax bracket mattered more than grades when entering. This suited
me perfectly, as did my uncle, who, being a painter and artist, was only too
eager to ingratiate himself with potential patrons by my presence in the
institution. And so I lodged there, to become a lady in their fashion.
It’s been half a year since my entry there, and now I’m living another
accursed New Year, again reminding me of Shiki’s continued existence. I’d
actually planned to go to the shrine with Mikiya today, but that got soured
easily enough when Shiki came by earlier and left with him. Strange how
fickle such things tend to be in my life, and how she always seems to be at
the center of it all.
I make my way toward the bay area, the sight of the once great factories
serving as my guide. The old industrial area by the bay is still home to some
active steelworks, but by and large it is a place of rusted smokestacks and
crumbling brick walls, of old and abandoned warehouses, some of which
still have asbestos flocked within ceilings. In the midst of it all stands the
shell of an office building, remaining eternally unfinished in its construc-
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - I • 7
tion; no doubt the last hope to revitalize the district, only to falter and fail.
My tutor in the Art of magic, Tōko Aozaki, somehow got her hands on it
(through means I am not entirely confident are legal), and made an office
of sorts there, for her “business.”
When I reach the building, I go in and climb the staircase, each click of
my heels on the steps an echo. The first floor is a garage, and only Miss
Tōko herself knows what lurks in the second and third, and the fourth is
the office where me and my brother Mikiya often end up in; Mikiya as an
employee, and I as an apprentice. I open the door on the fourth floor office
and announce my arrival with a lazy greeting.
“Happy New Year.”
“Mmhmm. Happy New Year,” says Miss Tōko with an equally languid
expression on her face.
Somehow, the usual severity that Miss Tōko commands doesn’t seem
to diminish her good looks at all. In fact, in tandem with her white blouse
and black trousers, it makes her seem more in control, if anything. With her
glasses off, as they are now, you might even doubt for a moment if she was
actually a woman.
“Weren’t you planning to go out with brother dearest today?” she asks
with a characteristic lack of restraint from behind her work desk.
“I was, but Shiki came along and spirited him away. Still, aren’t you glad
I’m even in today instead of gallivanting about with Mikiya?”
“That I am. I have some business to talk about with you, actually.”
That’s strange. It’s very rare for Miss Tōko to involve me in her business.
I make her a cup of coffee, and whip up some tea for myself, before finally
taking a seat for myself.
“So, what is it you wanted to speak to me about?”
She puts her hands behind her head and leans back on her chair. “Just
wondering whether you’ve confessed to Kokutō yet.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake. I can tell from her tone that she’s not at all serious
about this.
“No, I haven’t. And it’ll be that way until after high school, at the very
least. Now is there actually anything significant in my answer that made
you so anxious to ask me?”
“Nah. Just speculating on how calm your answer would still be if I asked
the same question with Kokutō present. I suppose I still wonder how totally
different you both are yet you still find an attraction for him. Maybe you’re
adopted. Ever considered that?” The tips of her lips rise into that familiar
sly bend of a smile.
“Now I really don’t know if you’re joking or not,” I reply, but holding in
8 • KINOKO NASU
the frown I was supposed to make at her. As if she somehow still read this,
Miss Tōko chuckles lightly.
“Ah, Azaka, you carry yourself with such scholarly grace, but sometimes
the purity in your answers is so refreshing. Forgive me and my stupid questions.
I need to get it out of my system at least once a year, shouldn’t I?”
“Well, I’d say you’re off to a roaring great start to the year then. Anyway,
what was it you really wanted to talk about?”
“Something about your school. You’re in your first year in Reien Girl’s
Academy, right? The way I hear it, something interesting happened to class
D of the freshman year. You wouldn’t know anything about it, would you?”
Class D? I think I have a hunch what she’s talking about. “The class with
Kaori Tachibana in it, right? Unfortunately, I’m in class A, so I know very
little about the goings-on in class D.”
“Kaori Tachibana, you say? Can’t say I recognize the name. Not on the list
I have, at least.” Miss Tōko frowns, like she’s wracking her brain for something
she missed. I tilt my head slightly to the side, wondering if there’s
some miscommunication between me and her.
“Er…what’s all of this about?” I mutter.
“So you don’t know,” she sighs. “Guess I should’ve expected it, seeing
as Reien Academy tries to isolate each class from another. Only the girls in
class D would know more, I suppose,” she concludes. “Anyway, let me tell
you what I know about it.”
Miss Tōko begins to tell the story of a strange incident that happened
only two weeks ago. Just before winter vacation, two students of Reien
Girl’s Academy’s senior high school class 4-D had some kind of argument,
and in the end, tried to stab each other with box cutters. For such a thing
to happen at Reien, which is, at the best of times, eerily still and silent that
it seems almost like a place hermetically sealed-off from the rest of the
world, strikes me as supremely odd. Worse, I never knew about it, a fact
which I can probably blame on the school’s practice of separating each
class from each other, and their tendency to cover up anything that might
paint a bad picture of the institution.
“That’s horrible,” I say, after Miss Tōko is done with the story. “Are their
injuries serious?”
“Nothing too serious. I’m actually more interested in the fact that they
attacked each other at all.”
“Yes, I see what you mean. Reien is generally not the place you’d find
the type of people who’d try a knife fight in the halls. Whatever its cause,
it must have been something serious, or something far back in their past.
Or both.”
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - I • 9
“Right. The subject of their quarrel comes later. There’s an even stranger
tidbit here. No doubt you’re wondering why you didn’t know about this
earlier. Reien’s policy on these things can be blamed up to a point, but it
largely isn’t their fault this time. It’s just that it wasn’t immediately reported.
It was only when the school’s Mother Superior looked through the infirmary’s
records did she find the names of the two girls, and the cause of
their wounds. She suspected class D’s homeroom instructor of deliberately
hiding the incident.”
That would be Hideo Hayama, once Reien’s only male instructor, and
one of the only two in its history. But he’d already left, having taken responsibility
for the breakout of a fire last November. He was promptly sacked
and replaced, not by a nun as per usual, but by…
“Mr. Kurogiri? No way. It can’t be him,” I suddenly find myself saying.
Miss Tōko offers a nod.
“The Mother Superior said as much. Apparently, this Satsuki Kurogiri
fellow took to the job well, and became trusted by everyone almost immediately.
When the Mother Superior interviewed him about the incident,
he supposedly couldn’t recall anything about the incident happening
under his watch. She had to go and recite the particulars of the incident
to even make the guy remember. She couldn’t pry a thing out of Satsuki,
and he genuinely seemed to have forgotten about the entire thing. Never
struck the Mother Superior as a man to tell stories. Since he’d proven his
trustworthiness before to both the faculty and the students, the Mother
Superior had to let him go.”
But how can a man forget something so important in only two weeks?
It just doesn’t seem possible. At the same time, I myself can’t see a reason
why Mr. Kurogiri would have any reason to break the school’s trust in him.
“As for the reason the students took a stab at each other in the first
place,” Miss Tōko continues, “all the other students heard about it, since
the two girls started arguing in the classroom just after class when people
were filing out in the halls. Apparently they each somehow knew of some
old secrets they were keeping from each other. And here’s the kicker. When
they were interviewed, they were both secrets that both of them had already
forgotten.”
“What? That sounds—”
“Ridiculous, I know. These girls were childhood friends. The Mother
Superior described them as always being together. Somehow, this secret
got out and ruined all that. I think they both said when they were questioned
that it was close to a month ago when they got a letter in the mail,
and at first they couldn’t figure out anything about what the letter was
10 • KINOKO NASU
referring to. Then, of course, they later understood what it was about. It
told of old secrets taht they both didn’t want the other to know. They confronted
each other, and found out that both had been sent a letter of the
same nature before they busted out the box cutters and started attacking
each other.”
I don’t know what to say. Forgotten memories and secrets being mentioned
in a letter sent by someone who they didn’t know, somewhere in
the country?
“You’re thinking this is a new case, aren’t you, Miss Tōko?”
“Maybe. The letters didn’t have anything else written on them. No
threats, no demands. Not even a stalker could watch both girls 24/7 enough
to even figure out the past that even they forgot about. If there’s a mage’s
hand in all of this, I wouldn’t be surprised. I only wonder what the ultimate
objective is.”
The ominous tone of the story starts to sink in. Discounting the damaging
contents of the letter, it might be interesting, even funny, for you to
receive letters about your life at first and not know where they’re coming
from. But give it a month and see if you still feel the same way. Letters
about you containing facets of your life that even you didn’t know about,
written by somebody you don’t know, some unknown figure who watches
you day in and day out. The paranoia that gripped the two girls must have
eaten away at them. It’s little wonder they were driven to such desperate
suspicion.
“Have they found out who sent the letters?” I ask.
“Yep. Fairies, they say,” Miss Tōko states succinctly.
“Pardon me. Could you repeat that?” I don’t know if my astonishment at
what she just said registered in my voice or not.
“Fairies, like I said. What, you don’t know about them? Even when so
many students in Reien say they see them? I suppose you really aren’t gifted
with Arcane Eyes, but it’s sort of a famous rumor among the students.
Fairies, they say, will play beside your pillow at night, and when you wake
up, you’d find some of the memories of the past few days will have gone
as cleanly as though they never happened. If it’s true, and not just some
crazy rumor, the fairies are stealing the memories for some purpose. My
gut tells me there’s a connection to this and the incident in class D,” she
explains patiently.
Though I still study the Art under her guidance, and I’ve seen wonders of
thaumaturgy performed that are a true sight to behold, I still find the fairy
story hard to believe.
“Do you think it’s true, then, Miss Tōko? This fanciful story about fair-
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - I • 11
ies?”
“I can’t say anything about something I haven’t seen yet, but if there’s
any place for fairies to be, it’s got to be Reien. Think about it. It’s perfect for
them: Isolated in the sticks, where you can’t even hear the faintest whine
of a car engine, maintained by some of the sternest rules and quiet nuns,
that don’t permit the latest in youth culture to seep into the institution
they’ve built. The forest that takes up the larger portion of the grounds
is deep and large enough to get yourself lost for half a day if you’re not
careful. The air is tinged with fragrance sweet enough to make you stay
and pass the time staring at a clock’s minute hand and its lazy progression.
Sounds pretty much like a fairy freehold to me.”
“Wow, I am surprised you know the campus so…intimately, Miss Tōko.”
“Obviously. I’m an alumnus there, after all.”
This time, I make sure to have my voice sound truly astonished.
“WHAT?!”
“Stop giving me that look,” Miss Tōko says with an eyebrow raised.
“What, you thought Mother Riesbyfe would just mouth off the latest
school gossip to an outsider? She’s the one that contacted me last night
to see if I could do anything to get to the bottom of what’s happening in
there. I don’t exactly run a detective agency here, but I couldn’t turn down
the Mother Superior either. Now, I can’t go in there again, since I’d stand
out too much. I wouldn’t get a word out of anyone. So I thought long and
hard—” she draws the two words out with a smile on her face “—on who
could do it for me… Azaka?”
No. I turn away from her. I don’t want to hear what I think she’s about
to say. She looks at me with sharply narrowing eyes before she continues.
“Oh come now, Azaka. It can be fun! I mean, come on, what do you think
of when I say the word ‘fairy?’”
“Tinkerbell?” I quickly blurt out, as if this would somehow dispel the
topic, at which point Miss Tōko chuckles.
“A comforting image, and one that is popular among mages who try to
make familiars in the image of fairies. But unlike familiars, the true fae are
not creatures brought forth through the mage’s will, but actual living things
of varying species. Such things may be goblins, redcaps, or the oni of our
own country. Shifty creatures, the lot of them. In Scotland, there are still
stories of fairies causing mischief among people…even some stories where
they cause bouts of forgetfulness among people, and drawing children into
forests to spirit them away for a week, replacing them with identical fetches.
Though their pranks vary, all fae share one unique quality: their lack of
empathy for the victims of their tricks. They are simply incapable of it. They
12 • KINOKO NASU
do it because they deem it fun, not out of malevolence.
“The incident in Reien could be their handiwork, but the act of writing
a letter seems to be out of their style. It indicates some kind of malice and
manipulation, doesn’t it? I fear, Azaka, that our culprit may be the first kind
of fairy that you mentioned.”
As ever, Miss Tōko never misses an opportunity to teach me more about
the invisible world she seems to walk through with so much ease. And like
a good student, I’m only curious for more.
“So you’re saying they’re familiars, being controlled by some mage?” I
ask. She nods in satisfaction.
“Yes, and the kind borne from a captured creature, to be sure. The mage
is probably using them to work his or her Art from afar, to do something
with the memories of the students in Reien. To have this hedge wizard
be so obvious in his work is almost uncharacteristically amateurish for a
mage. Or perhaps he doesn’t have such a complete command over his fairy
familiars yet. They’ve always been fickle sorts, and mages generally favor
other things over them. But this rank amateur has showed his hand, and
I’m thinking it will be a perfect test for you, Azaka. And so I order you as
your mentor to investigate the truth behind these incidents before winter
vacation ends. Find the source, and do what you can to eliminate it.”
There we go. Miss Tōko finally says the words I suspected she’d been
meaning to say all this time. In truth, the task scares me a bit, since I can
sense her hidden implication: that I’d be going in there alone, against an
individual similar to me and Miss Tōko, able to manipulate the very threads
of reality with the Art. And she expects me to root him out. I try my best to
hide my trepidation with a confident nod.
“Well, if it’s for the sake of more arcane knowledge, then I guess I have
no choice,” I sigh as I answer. Miss Tōko rises from her chair to give me
some documents on the details of the situation, but before she can hand
me a folder, I have to voice the once concern that’s been niggling at me
since the moment I suspected what she would have me do. “But Miss Tōko,
I can’t even see the fairies. I don’t have the mystic sight or Arcane Eyes like
you do.”
Unexpectedly, she makes the grin that has only heralded her own brand
of mischief.
“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about that detail. I think
I can cook you up something far better than a pair of eyes.” Though she
struggles to hold her laughter in, she doesn’t tell me exactly what she
meant.
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - II • 13
Records in Oblivion - II
I leave the faculty room of Reien Girl’s Academy’s senior high school
department…unfortunately, with her tagging along.
“You know, I’ve been thinking. Maybe Tōko is actually an idiot and we
just didn’t notice.”
January 4, Monday. Past noon. Skies partly cloudy.
Walking astride me is Miss Tōko’s funny idea for something “better than
a pair of eyes.” The enemy.
“Having you of all people to sneak into the school with me? For once,
you have my agreement.”
“This sucks. I definitely got the short end of the stick this time, having to
put up this act that I just transferred here on the third term.”
We try to avoid looking at each other as we walk through a corridor
of the senior high school building. The girl’s name is Shiki Ryōgi. Like all
students here, right now she’s wearing the Reien uniform, a dress patterned
after a black nun habit that almost always looks weird on any Japanese
person. And yet Shiki wears it like an old glove. When I see her dark hair
still distinctly visible even against the black fabric of the dress, and how it
can’t hide her slender shoulders and the pale whiteness of her nape, even
I have to admit that she looks good on it; as good as any quiet Catholic girl,
which of course, she is anything but. The entire thing gives me a faint feeling
of disgust.
“Azaka, those two girls were just staring at us.” And of course, like an
idiot, Shiki is staring right back at the upperclassmen we just passed as
well. It hasn’t been the first time it happened today, and after a few looks, I
think I have an educated guess as to what could be so interesting to them.
In an exclusive all-girls institution like Reien, the androgynous nature of
Shiki’s appearance must be some kind of anomaly. There are few people
like Shiki in here, and her presence is bound to attract some kind of attention.
The same two girls that we just passed must have only wanted to talk
to her in some kind of childish attraction.
“Don’t pay them any mind. You’re a new face. Transfer students at this
level are just rare, that’s all,” I caution to her. “It doesn’t have anything to
do with what we’re investigating.”
“There’s a surprising number of students for the winter vacation, don’t
you think?”
“Ugh. It’s a boarding school, obviously. A lot of these people live far
away, and would rather just stay here over the break. Only the library on
14 • KINOKO NASU
the first and fourth floor are actually open, but since the dormitories are
well-stocked anyway, barely anyone heads to the main building. Unless you
need to report to the nuns for violating some rule.”
Rules which are very, very strict, and the violation of which enough times
is enough reason to expel you. “Don’t go outside” being the most tightly
held one, and they won’t make an exception even if your parents themselves
showed up. Still, money has proven to change that easily enough,
which I found true with my erstwhile friend, Fujino. As a man of capable
capital who donated significant money to the school, Fujino’s father found
a way to get her out whenever she wanted. As for me…well, certainly my
high grades helped, which led to my uncle being employed by Reien as a
painter (which completely suited his mercenary motives for letting me go
here). They were more lenient of my excursions after that.
Remove the religious veneer and Reien itself is little different from other
high schools. Students still study their backs off just to pass a test to get into
college, and with all the high expectations for the student body here, that
fact is only doubly true. In truth, I suspect the school took me in because
of my high marks, seeing me as someone they can proudly send off to
Tōkyō University (which had been my plan anyway). While the management
in this place might be a bit too focused on what numbers they can
boast about, it doesn’t really bother me. I mean, at least they can give me
the freedom to go out.
I snap out of my reverie in time to notice that we’ve exited the main
building, and that beside me, Shiki had been staring at it with listless eyes
for quite some time. Then, as if tiring of it, she looks back at me while idly
fondling the cross hanging from her neck.
“Weird place. Can’t rightly tell if the teachers are primarily teachers, or
dedicated to being nuns, or whatever. Oh yeah, and didn’t we pass by a
chapel earlier? Is that where they do the whole ‘mass’ thing? Our Father,
with art in heaven and all that?”
Oh, Shiki you ignorant fool. What would God do with art?
“There’s a morning and evening service,” I reply, “and a mass on Sundays.
Students aren’t obligated to participate, though. People like me who transferred
to Reien from elementary or junior high largely aren’t Christian,
so we don’t go. The nuns would rather we do, but…well, you know the
law. The sudden influx of rich-but-not-necessarily-Christian families sending
their well-to-do daughters here increased dramatically over the past
decade, which, coupled with the number of parents not wanting to put
their children in schools that force a Catholic education, forced them to
tone down the mission school vibe.”
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - II • 15
“What a pain in the ass,” Shiki sighs. “I’m willing to bet God doesn’t care
either way.”
To see her dressed in the uniform she’s wearing while wielding such a
vulgar tongue makes me feel a little uneasy. I quickly dispense with the
subject.
“Well, never mind God for now, but what about the fairies? See anything?
Any weaving of the Art?” I ask as we continue to walk the campus grounds.
Shiki shakes her head.
“Not a glance. Guess we’ve got no choice except to wait until tonight,”
she says, casting her sleepy eyes across the buildings, the abundant foliage,
and the stone walkways that adorn the school.
Shiki, like many mages, can see what is hidden from most normal
people. The mystic sight of her Arcane Eyes allows her to see ghosts and
spirits…and even things with more frightening implications. Her breed of
sight grants her dominion over death and entropy, and it manifests for her
as patterns of lines on an object, and supposedly, by tracing them she can
weave entropy into it and destroy it. Apart from that, her family claims a
strong martial tradition, and whatever else may be said about her, she has
still lived up to it exceptionally. Because of that, her reflexes are as fast as
she is efficient and brutal.
In other words: a woman quite the opposite of my brother Mikiya.
Totally unsuited for him. Above all other people, it is perhaps Shiki who
annoys me the most. As a matter of fact, the entire reason for me taking up
Miss Tōko’s tutelage in the Art is Shiki herself. Because if Mikiya’s girlfriend
was any normal girl, she would never measure up to someone like me. But
obviously, Shiki is a far more troublesome sort. So I put aside my common
sense and took Miss Tōko up on her offer.
Now, I’m still learning, but I don’t feel I’ve measured up to her just
yet, so I spend my days here in the school, balancing my time between
mundane study and the practice of the Art. But even though I consider
Shiki the enemy, there is one truth about her that I have so far refused to
give voice to.
“I’ll have to spend the night in your dormitory, I imagine. Normally, I
don’t like sleeping on a bed I haven’t checked and prepared myself, but in
this case I’ll have to lower my standards.” Shiki bookends the sentence with
a sigh of surrender.
See, the truth is that Shiki doesn’t really hate me. And I don’t really hate
her either. I’ve always thought that if only Mikiya wasn’t between the both
of us, I would probably be the best of friends with her.
“So where to next, Azaka?” Shiki asks as she looks at me. “To the dormi-
16 • KINOKO NASU
tory?”
“It might be better for us to use what little time we have actually investigating
and not idly resting in my room, I should think. We’ll talk to class D’s
homeroom instructor, so just follow my lead. You’re my seeing-eye dog for
the duration of this case, and you’d do well to use those Eyes to scrutinize
everyone you come across.”
“Wasn’t the homeroom instructor some guy called Hayama or somesuch?”
“Old news. Mr. Hayama left the institution in November. The homeroom
instructor now is Mr. Satsuki Kurogiri, the only male instructor in the
school.” I start to walk back inside, heading toward the English language
teacher’s quarters, while Shiki tags along dutifully beside me.
“A guy teacher in an all-female school. I guess that must stir up some
latent feelings in some of the girls, huh?”
I don’t answer her right away, but in her own crude way, she’s right. The
students of Reien are brought up to be to the school’s vision of ideal young
women, and men are seen as a hindrance to that growth. One of the main
reasons the school strongly discourages venturing outside the grounds is
because they think that a boy and a girl interacting at their age is a slippery
slope to an illicit sexual relationship. But I’ve always thought that having
male teachers undermined that philosophy anyway.
“Well, yes,” I finally answer after a moment’s pause. “But that topic’s
practically a minefield in this place, so keep your voice down. Hideo Hayama
wasn’t a popular teacher here not only because of his suspected lack of an
actual teaching license, but also because there were rumors that he’d sexually
harassed a student once.”
“What? Why the hell wasn’t he out of here sooner, then?” Shiki asks
with cocked eyebrow.
“The sisters and the Mother Superior were forced to turn a blind eye to
it because…well, let me put it this way: The surname of the school board’s
chairman is Ōji, but before he married into his wife’s family, he shared a
surname with Mr. Hayama.”
“Oh ho,” Shiki whispers conspiratorially. “The chairman’s estranged
brother or something, I suppose. If that’s the case, then I guess the question
becomes: why did he resign like he did.”
I scan my head around quickly just to check if no one’s around. Satisfied,
I turn back to Shiki and say, “Remember last November when we were in
Miss Tōko’s office? I said it then too, but the short of it is that a fire broke out
in the high school. Only the dormitories of class C and below were affected,
but the fire itself supposedly started in class D’s section, and they said Mr.
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - II • 17
Hideo Hayama was behind it. Obviously, the chairman himself sacked him,
but Mr. Hayama was already long gone by then. Perhaps he ran.”
News of the arson never really slipped outside the walls of the school.
All the firemen were purportedly bribed, as were an ample number of the
student’s parents and guardians. Wouldn’t want to tarnish the good name
of the school where their precious daughters went to after all. It took one
other toll.
There was…someone that died in that fire.
“So this Kurogiri guy—what’s he like?” Shiki asks.
“Very little to say about him, really, save for his being quite the polar
opposite of Hayama. I don’t think there’s anyone in the school that hates
him. He started only last summer, and unlike Mr. Hayama, he didn’t have
a crutch to get him in here, though I hear the Mother Superior was quite
enthusiastic to have him. From what I hear, she actually wanted to have a
teaching staff that was native English—like our long gone sister school—
but were able to speak Japanese. Of course, such people are rare. But Mr.
Kurogiri was just such a man.”
“So he’s one of those English teachers, I take it?” Strangely enough, Shiki
scowls as she asks this. Perhaps her preference for all things Japanese has
given her some kind of nervous allergy towards anything English related.
“Yes, but with a license to teach French and German too. He’s even
studying Mandarin now, and some South American language. It’s no secret
why we call him the linguistics geek. I confess, it sometimes makes him a
hard person to deal with.”
I stop myself from saying anything further, seeing as we now find
ourselves in front of the door to the English language teacher’s quarters.
In Reien, teachers do most of the paperwork in the faculty office, but all
of them are quartered in their own accommodations. This room is for the
English language teacher, and is the same room that Hideo Hayama once
used.
I inhale a gulp of air, careful not to let Shiki notice it. Then I rap gently on
the door two times before opening it.
Once me and Shiki enter the room, we find Satsuki Kurogiri with his back
to us in the far end of the room, concentrated on the work at his desk.
His workspace faces the window, from which ashen gray rays of sunlight
enter from the overcast sky outside. Like any good professor, thick stacks of
paper lie in heaps in seemingly random places all over the room: on top of
a chair, or a cabinet, or peeking out from inside a drawer, all in some kind
18 • KINOKO NASU
of order known only to him.
“Mr. Kurogiri. I’m Azaka Kokutō of class 1-A. Did the Mother Superior tell
you about my business?”
“Yes,” he replies, accompanied only by a curt nod as he looks over
his shoulder. He only swivels his seat around to face us. When his face
meets ours, I do not fail to detect Shiki’s sharp intake of breath. It doesn’t
surprise me. In fact, I expected it. I too, reacted in much the same manner
of momentary confusion when I first saw him.
“Ah, Kokutō. Yes, I have been informed. Please, both of you, take a seat.
I trust there will be some explaining to do.” His voice is as gentle as the
smile he now wears. His age seems to be around his mid-20’s which, if true,
would make him the youngest instructor in Reien. His unassuming features,
coupled with his black-rimmed glasses, easily make him look among one
of the least imposing ones as well. “You are here for my account on class
D, I imagine.”
“Yes, sir. Specifically, your account on the students that tried to hurt
each other with box cutters.” My reply makes his eyes squint, his gaze
placed far beyond me, and containing, for a moment, a heavy sadness and
disconsolation.
“It is regrettable that I cannot help further in that regard. I myself remember
little about what actually took place. My memory is vague, but I know
that I could not stop the two girls in time before they hurt themselves. I
know I was there in the scene, but everything after that is unreliable, I’m
afraid.” He closes his eyes.
Why is this man and he so alike? So ready to throw himself at another
person’s problems when it isn’t his turn to bother himself with it? Both of
them don’t seem to be the kind of person that would harm anyone else,
much less not move to stop a dangerous situation as with the two students.
“Sir, did you know the reason for their quarrel?” I ask, if only to make
sure, but Satsuki Kurogiri only shakes his head silently in reply.
“According to the other students, I was the one that stopped them, but
I certainly don’t recall such a thing happening. I’ve been called a forgetful
person many times, but this, I think, is the first time I’ve forgotten something
so important. As for the reason of their argument, I honestly don’t
know. It’s possible it could even have been me. I was, after all, in the same
room as them when it started. Even I would think that is enough reason to
investigate me.” His brooding expression darkens as he says this.
I cannot say that I wouldn’t doubt myself either if I was in his place.
It would seem suspicious to anyone that he was there when the actual
event happened, and yet he couldn’t do anything, and doubly so when
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - II • 19
he can’t remember even a fleeting moment. Having self-doubts would be
the sensible progression from there. He doesn’t know what he did, if he
were in some kind of triggered fugue state, what kind of time and memories
he lost. But while suspecting yourself might be reasonable, especially
with a lack of any compelling evidence to prove otherwise, worrying more
and more about what happened would eat away at you, until you couldn’t
escape.
“But sir, couldn’t it be possible that some students of class 1-D were still
in the classroom as the entire event unfolded? Have you asked all of your
students?”
“Yes, but they remain silent about it, as if they all just want to forget
about it. Memory is a fickle thing, and I cannot rely on theirs just now to be
entirely truthful. The question of how involved I was is still very much up
in the air. Regardless, I think you will gain little more from me by asking me
about it. I know I myself might seem unreliable at present, but if you have
more questions left, I will be happy to answer them.” He smiles again, more
weakly now, and I nod at him and answer.
“Yes, let’s continue. You said that they don’t want to talk to you about
what happened. What do you think might be the reason they hesitate to
confide?”
“I can’t say for sure. The class has always been particularly…strained,
even on the day I took charge of them. Maybe it is not my place to say,
seeing as I haven’t been their homeroom instructor for too long, but they
are unusually quiet.”
“Do you think they might be scared?” As I ask that, I wonder why no
other student could have stopped the two girls from cutting each other.
Could the letter have found all of the students of the class instead of just
two? It could be an explanation. It makes everyone a suspect for the sender,
and instantly makes them suspicious of the two girls. Perhaps they would
have seen the fight as the two girls outing each other as the real sender.
But Mr. Kurogiri’s answer doesn’t support my theory.
“No,” he replies slowly, letting it churn in his mind. “Not scared I think.”
“Then what?”
“It would probably be more right to say that they are…reserved, maybe
guarded. Against what, I cannot really say.” I don’t fail to take note of the
nuance.
In other words, he might be saying that the problem has always remained
internal to the classroom, never coming from, or reaching any other third
party.
“Sir, can your students be contacted at present?” I feel like I have no
20 • KINOKO NASU
other recourse except to be direct and ask the students. The whole affair
about memories being lost makes Miss Tōko’s fanciful fairy theory more
likely by the second, and I’ll have to ask the people spreading the rumors
about that as well.
“There is no need to contact them. They are all here in campus, so you
can talk to them immediately if you want to.”
That genuinely catches me off guard. All of them, here in school? Is that
coincidence or something else at work?
“Perhaps later. For now, though, I have another engagement. I may have
more questions at a later date, though, if that will be alright. Shiki, let’s go.”
The girl has been uncharacteristically silent for the last few minutes. I catch
her attention and motion for her to follow when I stand up. It is then that I
notice Mr. Kurogiri staring blankly at me and Shiki, his gaze eventually falling
to Shiki in particular.
“Um, sir, is there something—” before I can finish and Mr. Kurogiri can
answer, Shiki finally speaks for the first time.
“Miss Azaka refers to me by name, sir. My name is Shiki. A pleasure to
make your acquaintance.” A miracle. She must be channeling some effort
of supreme will to even talk as gently as she does now, and I can’t tell if it’s
dripping with sarcasm or not. With her, you can never really tell.
“Yes, your silence made you a bit conspicuous. I am sorry,” the instructor
says. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. A freshman, I presume?”
“Perhaps. Only time will tell. I am touring the school’s facilities, you see.
If I find it satisfactory, I might transfer.”
“Clearly you’ve already found the uniform satisfactory. Do consider hastily.”
says Mr. Kurogiri with another curt nod. He looks at Shiki with a look
of positive delight beaming on his face, noticing every detail on her like an
artist would on a model.
A gentle knock on the door interrupts their conversation. Then a voice
from outside, muffled by the wall.
“Excuse me.”
The door opens with a slight creaking, and in steps an upperclassman,
her almond eyes looking over the room with a cold detachment, and the
slight breeze drifting in through Mr. Kurogiri’s window making her back
length black hair ripple slightly. Reien is already home to many fair looking
women, but even here, this girl stands out. Her face is known to me.
I wouldn’t forget the face of our student council president since last year.
When she looks at you, she almost seems to be viewing you from above,
and the long, thin eyebrows give her a countenance of stately command.
“Ah, Ōji. Is it time already?” Mr. Kurogiri says to the student, Misaya Ōji.
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - II • 21
“Yes, it is, sir. Well past the appointed time,” she replies confidently.
“You were expected in the student council room at one o’ clock. Time is
not eternal, so we have to make use of it as best we can, do we not?
Without even batting an eyelash, Ōji berates the erring instructor. She
carries her majesty with a grace only she can muster, and it is an asset she
uses to rule the student council as tightly as she can. By the time I had
transferred, she was already in place at her position, but according to what
Fujino told me in the past, not even the sisters could touch her. And if the
rumors are to be believed, nor can the school board chairman, with whom
she shares a surname.
It’s only natural, considering the family they hail from. The chairman,
who married into the family of his wife, will obviously have a large discrepancy
of influence from the Misaya Ōji, the family’s second daughter. The
Ōji are plutocrats; old money families with their name on a building or
street or two. They have a strange practice of adopting female babies for
daughters, and their marriages are arranged, taking only the best grooms
into their family. Any marriage with the Ōji daughters of the family force
the grooms to take the Ōji surname, while the daughters are brought up
to be individuals of strong force of will to become scions to their financial
empire. Such an upbringing has made Misaya Ōji a woman with a heart of
iron. Still, she is not a complete tyrant. She does, in fact, possess a strong
sense of justice. She shows no mercy to those who violate school regulations,
but to those that uphold it, she is a sister and a role model. She is
even devoutly Christian, and goes to the noon mass every Sunday without
fail.
“As strict as ever, Miss Ōji. Perhaps a more flexible view of time and
eternity would be wise.” Grinning, the instructor stands up and leaves his
seat, Misaya Ōji watching his every move with visible impatience. Surely to
a woman who values discipline like her, the leisurely pace of Mr. Kurogiri
must be extremely vexating.
Ōji glances for a moment in my direction, and then to Shiki, raising a
doubtful eyebrow as to our identity and presence. Realizing that we’re
surely bothering her just by being here, I pull on Shiki’s arm to signal to her
that we shouldn’t press our luck, and had best get out now.
“Let’s move on, Shiki,” I whisper as we move to the room’s exit. Mr.
Kurogiri opens the door for us in a manner not unlike a butler sending off
some visitors, and I’m compelled to mutter a quick sorry and a bow before
I step out.
“No, no,” the teacher quickly says. “It is I who am sorry for not being of
more help. A pleasant winter break to the both of you.” He gives us a last
22 • KINOKO NASU
smile goodbye.
“Do you always smile so sadly, sir?” I whip my head around just in time
to see Shiki say that to Mr. Kurogiri. He only widens his eyes, not in surprise,
but more of expectation, and nods.
“Hmm? But I have not once given you a smile, my dear,” he says, though
the fleeting expression on his face seems to say otherwise.
After leaving the English instructor’s room, me and Shiki make our way
quickly toward the dormitory. We pass through the large quadrangle on the
way there. Reien Girl’s Academy has a campus almost as big as a university,
and the layout of the buildings reflect this. The junior high school, senior
high school, the gymnasium, and the dormitories are all located in separate
buildings, in what seems an effort to keep the student body walking
as much as possible. The distance between the school buildings and the
dormitories is especially notorious, requiring you to pass through a small
forest located on the grounds. Fortunately, a walkway with a roof exists so
you don’t get lost and can travel through it in just your indoor shoes.
After going through the quad, we find ourselves in this path toward the
dormitory, each step taken by me and Shiki creating a subtle echo. I glance
over at her, and recognize that she seems a bit strange…more so than
usual, at any rate. Something seems to be bothering her. I think I know
what it must be.
“Surprised to see Mr. Kurogiri look so alike to Mikiya?” I ask her out of
the blue.
“Yeah,” Shiki says, nodding meekly.
“Yet a bit handsomer than Mikiya, I’d say.”
“Maybe. Can’t seem to see anything wrong with him.”
Ah, so we agree. When I first saw Satsuki Kurogiri, I was taken aback—
much like Shiki was—at how similar he was to my brother, in both appearance,
and the atmosphere that they tended to exude. His trait of accepting
everything as it is seemed only stronger than Mikiya’s by dint of age.
To people like me and Shiki, who can’t seem to help being disjointed to
the people around us, meeting a person like that is always somewhat of a
shock.
To look at Satsuki Kurogiri is to remind myself of the truth that I can’t
bear to face: that I’ll never be normal like Mikiya. I can no longer remember
when it was exactly that I realized this to be fact, but I know that I cried.
Somewhere, buried in the forgotten memories of my earlier years, lies the
scene of the moment when I understood him; understood that as I lived
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - II • 23
under the same roof as him, I grew to love him more and more. The paradox
of my existence. Brothers and sisters aren’t supposed to entertain such
thoughts, I know, but I regret nothing about it. If there’s one thing I regret,
it’s my inability to remember that pivotal moment.
“Still, no matter how much he looks like him, that man is not Mikiya
Kokutō, but still a man named Satsuki Kurogiri. Don’t mistake one for the
other,” I caution to Shiki. I can tell, even as she walks beside me, that she
holds the same view. But instead of nodding, she frowns and murmurs.
“It’s not that they look like each other. It’s more like—” Her words fade
away by themselves as she stops in her tracks, looking deep into the forest
that surrounds us. “Azaka, there’s something inside the forest. Some kind
of wooden building, maybe? What is it?”
“Oh, that. That’s the old junior high school building. It hasn’t been used
for a long time, and it’s actually going to be torn down this winter break.
Why ask?”
“Gonna take a look at it. Thought I saw something. Go on ahead without
me.” With a rustle of the uniform robe she wears, she starts to run double
time to venture into the wood.
“Shiki! Wait! You promised you wouldn’t go wandering around by yourself!”
I shout after her, but I realize it is futile. The brat is so willful, it’d take
a miracle for me to pull her back with meager shouts.
“Azaka Kokutō?” Before I can start after her, I am stopped by someone
calling my name from behind me.
24 • KINOKO NASU
/ 1
Got a new job for you, Shiki.
In the evening of January 2, Tōko said over the telephone the words
that set me up for a job that has so far been completely different from
anything she’s sent me before. A strange enough incident occurred in
Azaka’s school, Reien Girl’s Academy, but the task of rooting out its source
was barely enough to get me motivated at all.
I, Shiki Ryōgi, joined Tōko Aozaki’s outfit some months ago purely on the
promise of the possibility of murder. But this job? This is about as far as
you can get from that objective without being a doctor and doing the polar
opposite. It’s not nearly sufficient to fill me up, let alone satisfy me. Yet
even as I think that, I recognize that despite the promises of opportunities
that Tōko said she would have in spades, I know that I’ve yet to truly kill a
single person.
Oh sure, there was that one time with the girl who could bend things
just by looking at them, but that didn’t pan out as well as I’d hoped. At the
last moment, even though the bloodlust filled me more than it ever had, I
couldn’t take her down. Not as she was at that particular moment. But we
had a good fight. One of my best. I suppose it’s a compromise I’ll have to
live with.
The past few weeks held little opportunity for any similar excursions,
however, so a hungry dissatisfaction had its grip on me. Surely it must
have been the cause for me accepting such a dreary job as the one I’m in
now. Besides, I had nothing better to do anyway. As I see it, there’s little
difference in sleeping in my room out of boredom, or going to Reien Girl’s
Academy and sleeping in Azaka’s dormitory out of boredom. At least in the
latter, there are more opportunities to get out and move. And so I’m here,
in this stuffy girl’s boarding school, posing as a touring prospective transfer
student intending to go in on the third term, and trying to find fairies that
Azaka can’t see.
As I pass the tree line, I slow my pace down to a brisk step, and when
I realize Azaka doesn’t seem to be tagging along, I walk. Deeper into the
foliage lies the wooden school building I’m heading for, just visible within
the shroud of green and brown that obscures my vision in all directions.
Whether because of the cloudy skies or some other, unseen influence, the
sunlight peeking through the treetops is a shade of gray more akin to mist.
/ 1 • 25
The distance between the buildings of Reien Girl’s Academy is so unnecessarily
vast that time and neglect has allowed the foliage to grow largely
unchecked except among the most travelled paths. The majority of the
campus is filled with a vast, sprawling forest. Forget having a forest inside
the school, try saying that there’s a school somewhere in the forest.
The soil is damp with leaf mold that clings to my boots, and it fills the
area with a familiar fragrance, the color and air of bittersweet ripened
fruit. And as it unites with the noise of the insects on the leaves, I am
almost intoxicated by it. Time seems to take its leisurely pace here, and
there is a comforting familiarity to it all, creating the deceptive illusion of
being apart from the world. I remember then the mage who made a building
a reality all his own, and the old memory of the Ryōgi estate, walled off
from greater society. Both of them, I realize, are places isolated from the
normalcy of the world. So it is with this school.
Soon, I reach the building, which I now see is in the center of a clearing of
long cut-down trees. The design of the building itself is old-fashioned, even
without recognizing its wooden make, and it sits breathless at the center of
the trees like a creature asleep, or a man on his deathbed waiting for the
end to come. The ground in the clearing is overrun with grass weeds, and
my steps are muffled and silent when I set foot on them. Treading across
them as fast as I comfortably can without breaking the silence of the place,
I enter the building.
Inside, I discover it isn’t as run down as its façade would have me
believe. I get the feeling that the structure is smaller than it looked somehow,
possibly because Azaka said this was the former junior high school
building. Every footfall on the wooden floor gives an audible creak. The
noise echoes across the desolate hallway, growing more indistinguishable
the farther it travels, and blending with the noise of the insects outside,
still audible even in such a dead space.
As I walk further inside, my thoughts turn to the teacher Azaka introduced
me to earlier. Satsuki Kurogiri. Azaka said he looked very much like
Mikiya, and she’s right. But that isn’t truly special. A lot of people look alike,
after all. But when the atmosphere he gives off is similar as well, it becomes
truly unsettling. But there I feel some fundamental difference between
them, some clear distinction that’s on the tip of my tongue, though I can’t
rightly place it just yet. It’s a particular feeling I’ve been having lately. Of
not knowing, but feeling. It’s a very human thing.
When I first stole back into consciousness half a year ago, I was still
gripped by that inexplicable feeling of simultaneously knowing and not
knowing, of experiencing something and getting an emotion of newness
26 • KINOKO NASU
and familiarity at the same time. But the past months have borne new
experiences, experiences that not even the old could have ever
known about. Now, more than ever, I can feel how truly distinct the
before the accident and myself after the recovery really are, though it is
still a faint boundary. Slowly, the hollow in my soul that Tōko once told me
of is being filled with new memories, trivial realities, and little emotions.
There still lingers that old lack of a sensation of life, but the emptiness I had
when I first woke up is well and truly gone. Someday maybe, when the day
comes that this hollow soul is really filled, I can even begin to grasp that
faint dream of being normal.
“Our little dream, isn’t it, Shiki?” I whisper to myself. Inside, I know
there will be no answer.
“A fool’s dream, I would think.” Yet from somewhere unseen, someone
answers.
The voice is little else but a low murmur, but it echoes down the hallway
until it becomes a sound that blends with the cacophony of insects.
And then for a moment, behind my neck, something pricks me.
“Goddamit.” The light touch brings me back from my distant thoughts.
Quickly, I move my hand to the nape of my neck, and I’m certain I’m holding…something.
It almost feels like the shape of a model figure of a man,
only slightly larger than my hand. Without a second thought, I hold tightly
and crush it. It makes a conspicuous high keening sound. I draw my hand
back and look at the palm of my hand.
Only a strange white liquid is left. With my palm spread, the thick,
sticky liquid drips down to the floor. Is this the only thing left of the thing
I crushed? Then I remember what Tōko and Azaka said about the fairies. I
never saw anything of the sort in my entire time here, and I can’t tell if this
crap in my hand is something related or not.
“Ew,” I remark as I whisk my hand to clear the substance away. Strangely
enough, despite its almost adhesive quality before, it slips off of my skin
quite easily now. It takes me a moment to notice that while I was studying
the liquid, the entire place had become deathly quiet. Even the keening
sound of the insects had disappeared. If they were even insects. If what I
destroyed was truly a fairy or something like it, there couldn’t have been
just one of them. Something so easily destroyed would serve little use for
a mage. There must be a swarm. And the buzzing noise might have been
them, their master deciding a hasty retreat after having observed my overenthusiastic
destruction of their comrade.
In any case, I don’t think there’s anything left for me to find in this building.
Going back through the trees the way I came, I make my way back to
/ 1 • 27
the walkway in the middle of the forest, where I had left Azaka, and soon
enough I catch sight of her again.
Azaka stands only a little shorter than me, with hair that reaches the
middle of her back. If the girl Ōji, who we had met earlier, carried herself
with the air of a castle’s queen, Azaka carries herself much like a princess.
Well, a princess of stubborness if nothing else. I exit the tree line and
approach beside her, whereupon she finally notices me.
“Huh? Decided against it, Shiki?” she asks, perplexed somehow.
“Decided against what?”
“Going there, idiot.” She motions her head to where I just came from,
toward the old building in the woods. We share an expression of bewilderment
with each other for a while until I finally realize what happened.
“Azaka,” I ask, “do you know what time it is?”
“It should be around 2pm, righ—” her words cut off. I know why. It’s
already around 3 o’ clock.
“I didn’t expect you to stand around waiting for me for an hour. If you
remember what happened in that hour, we’ve got no problems, but…” I
trail off. Silently, Azaka begins to tremble, putting a finger on her lips as if
just now figuring it out. She doesn’t even attempt to hide her surprise as
she stares into space.
But I can already tell that as far as she knows, she can’t remember a
thing from the time she called out to me to the time I got back.
“Shiki, it couldn’t be that I—” her words come out in fits and starts as
she trembles from head to toe, not out of fear, I start to recognize, but
more out of pure anger. She can’t seem to stand the thought of someone
having done something to her without her even knowing.
“I don’t know if I even need to say it,” I start, giving voice to what she’s
so far refused to say, “but the fairies got you. Took the memory away too,
probably.”
As soon as I say it, her face turns beet red. Her realization of her own
carelessness at being snuck up on like a novice mage and her embarrassment
is probably making her hard to decide between being ashamed or
being angry. Most of the time, Azaka is very calm and collected, but she
doesn’t like people to know that she can pop a fuse just like anybody else,
very unlike the image she’s worked so hard to cultivate.
Azaka clears her throat before she speaks. “We’ll go back to the dormitory.
It seems we need to plan strategies of our own.” Her voice has gained
an irritated streak, and her walk is brisk and determined. As I look on her,
back turned to me, I wonder what she’d say if I said I actually admired her
in times like these? “Shiki, are you coming or what?” she says, almost to
28 • KINOKO NASU
the point of shouting.
Well, guess I’ve got no time to think about it. I follow her quickly, going
along with her antics like I promised to.
/ 2 • 29
/ 2
After returning to the dormitory and subsequently talking to some of
the students in class D, it had already grown dark outside. Though the
school is on winter break, it apparently doesn’t stop the rules from being
in effect, so we had to go back to Azaka’s room.
After 6 in the evening, students are forbidden to go anywhere except
the portions of the dormitory reserved for their class, except to go the
bathroom, or to go to or from the study hall located on the first floor. The
students who transferred here in high school who don’t know better sometimes
sneak out to go to their friends’ room in other parts of the dormitory,
and for that purpose some of the sisters keep a corridor watch in the night.
The students who’ve been here since junior high are already used to it, and
so either they don’t go out, or if they do, they already know the route that
the nuns keep so well, and so are never seen.
Or at least, that’s what Azaka has just politely told me. Since the entire
thing is really of little concern to me, all I can do is sit in her room and
grumble. Azaka is sitting in her own chair. The room we’re in is narrow but
long, and first years get to share the room with another girl. Luckily for me,
Azaka’s roommate went home for the winter. There are two study desks in
the room, attached to the wall, and a bunk bed for the both of us. Personal
effects go in the bookshelves and cabinets beside the wall. The room itself
is obviously as old as the building it’s in, but it’s the kind of antiquity where
you can feel the comforting weight of a placid history on it.
Azaka is already in her pajamas, having changed immediately out of her
uniform robes the minute we got back to her room. I wanted to change out
of this stuffy nun uniform as well, but I didn’t bring any change of clothes,
so it looks like I’m stuck with all the robes Azaka’s got. Having little else to
do, I sit down on the bed and listen to Azaka’s explanation.
“Seeing as we can’t go out of our rooms tonight,” she continues, “we’ll
have to call it a day. Normally, we’d wake up at five o’ clock for morning
service, but since it’s winter break, we can sleep in until six. Remember,
Shiki, that none of the other students or sisters know we’re investigating
the incident in class D, so please try to refrain from being too weird and
bring attention on ourselves. Unlike you, I’m actually staying here for a
second year, so please try not to make a big fuss that will mess up my
reputation.”
All of which I heard almost word for word the night before as well. I
honestly have no idea why she even needs to worry. In some kind of inverse
30 • KINOKO NASU
relationship, I’m so bored here that it makes me not want to do anything.
“Relax. I’m just here to be your eyes, so I didn’t bring my favorite knife
with me. I don’t have a grudge against whoever this fairy mage is, so I don’t
have any special urge to take care of him. I’m more worried about your
temper running wild and chasing after this guy.”
“A misplaced fear, as well. I know our objective is only to identify the
source of the phenomenon, not eliminate it. Investigate, and then pass the
matter on to Miss Tōko, and have her take care of it.”
So she says with her signature voice of calm, but the familiar fire in her
eyes hasn’t died down since this afternoon. She’s taking that fairy incident
really personal. And when that happens, I know she sees little option
except to strike back.
“Well, see if you can keep your attitude that way, Azaka,” I say offhandedly,
which prompts Azaka to direct her stare at me.
“Could it be that you’re making a fool out of me, Shiki?”
“Like you said: a misplaced fear.” Her accusatory glance is so alike to
how Mikiya looks at me in mock suspicion (which is more than uncommon)
that it makes me inadvertently laugh. This only has the effect of worsening
Azaka’s mood.
“Ugh, fine. I swear that I won’t get mad, so you don’t have any right to
judge me. Now to get back to more important matters,” she says as she
changes the tone of her voice. “Among the people we met today, was there
anyone you thought was strange in any way?”
“Strange? Well, all of them, to be honest. All of the people from class D
that we met had some of the stuff somewhere in their neck.”
“By ‘stuff,’ I assume you mean the same blood that came from the fairy
you supposedly killed.” Her brows come together in a frown, as she must
think that I’m the worst person alive for crushing a perfectly good (and
more importantly for her, studyable) familiar. Still, it’s the truth, so I can’t
argue with her on that.
“It’s not blood, I think. More like the scales on butterfly wings. I doubt
they wouldn’t notice it if it was just some kind of liquid. It was in that
teacher we met earlier, too. Kurogiri, right? I didn’t know what it was when
we met him, but now that I think about it, it’s the same thing.”
“I see. Say, Shiki, whoever’s responsible for this, why do you think he’s
taking away the memories?”
“Wouldn’t know. I don’t have any reason to do it.”
“I don’t even know why I even bothered asking you,” Azaka says with
a huff. Then, ignoring me, she starts to enumerate the facts we have at
hand in as low a voice as she can muster. “In December, members of class
/ 2 • 31
D got a letter, containing secrets that even the person who knew them
forgot about. At around the same time, rumors of fairies in the campus
started to spread, sneaking up on you while you were asleep and stealing
your memories. Just before winter break started, two students from class
D argued and then attempted to harm each other with box cutters, the
cause of their quarrel being the letters they received. The other students
didn’t even try to stop the fight. Even up to January, the students refuse
to talk about the incident, and the atmosphere remains very strained and
unhelpful.”
She grants me a sideways glance with dagger eyes for a moment, and
then goes back to her reverie. “Well, she actually encountered at least one
of the fairies, and I lost an entire hour to the creatures. What was I doing?
I could have been doing all sorts of things in that lost hour.”
So even the calm and composed Azaka Kokutō is bothered about memories
forgotten.
So what of me?
My memories of what happened three years ago, during my freshman
year of high school, still contain many blanks. The ambiguity of their nature
still creates a great unease in me, filling my imagination with all kinds of
doubts, all kinds of explanations, none of them painting me in the best
light. That same year, the city seemed to have been frozen in place from
the violent murders committed by an unknown serial killer. The gap in my
memories almost makes me feel like…I’m connected to those incidents in
some way. But if anyone would know, it would be Shiki, my other self. But
now he’s gone, and whatever elucidating information he may have had is
gone along with him.
Wait—wait a minute. Why haven’t I thought of it before? If the holes
in my memory is due to Shiki dying…then why are my memories relating
to the moments directly before my accident also gone? Surely it wasn’t
Shiki in control then, but . Maybe—maybe if this fae mage has a
way of stealing memory, then could he have a way to give lost memory
back? In any case, it would be difficult to get the idea past Azaka. And even
discounting whether or not Azaka believes in them, the existence of fairies
here isn’t something I particularly approve of.
Whatever the situation evolves into, we still need to find the man
responsible. And whatever fact me and Azaka are missing to tie everything
together is so close that I can almost feel it through the walls, bleeding
through the serenity in this enclosed space of madness.
“Azaka, have you given a thought as to how we’re even going to begin to
investigate lost memories?”
32 • KINOKO NASU
“I know, I know. It’s not like we can hypnotize people and dig into their
subconscious or something. Do you know anything about the four processes
of memory, Shiki?”
“Encoding, storage, retrieval, and recognition, right? Same as any VCR.
Recorded video sticks to the tape and encoded and stored. When you
watch it again, you put it in the box and it retrieves the video. You verify if
it’s still the same video as before with recognition. If one of the processes
fail, there’s some kind of a memory disorder.”
“Indeed. Even if someone forgets something, the memory itself is still
stored in the brain. Anything the brain encodes stays there. This isn’t some
kind of weird mass hysteria. These so-called fairies are extracting these
memories, but to what purpose, it isn’t clear.”
Before I left, Tōko confided in me that she suspected that there was
some cold intent behind all of this, but I can’t say I entirely agree. Seeing
as the memories being stolen are memories the persons themselves have
already forgotten, the person wouldn’t even notice if they were taken
away. In fact, the whole thing with the letters seems almost a benevolent
act, as if whoever was sending them was informing the person that he or
she had forgotten this particular memory, and that they shouldn’t forget it
ever again.
“It’s possible the culprit is looking for something in all the memories.
Some information, some kind of proof that he needs,” I suggest. Azaka
acknowledges me with a slight nod and leans back on her seat.
“Or just someone that really likes to tell people about the skeletons in
their closet and point them out for everyone to see.”
“If anything, it’s not something so benign. Harassment, at the very least.
Like a kid, this one,” I add. Well, fairies are already like children in their fickleness
anyway, so why do I even wonder? I try to stop myself from thinking
any more on this. After all, I’m just Azaka’s eyes right now, and it’s her job
to take the arcane knowledge and derive some kind of an answer to all of
it, not mine. And with that thought, I move from sitting down on the bed
to lying down on it spread eagled.
“Tell me something, Shiki,” Azaka suddenly blurts out, seemingly embarrassed
as she sits lazily in her chair. “How is it that you see the fairies?”
Man, she’s still beating herself up over that? “Don’t really know how I
do it. Even I don’t know how the mystic sight works. All I know is that you
don’t have it. But if you want to try and sense them, what you could do is
improvise on the spells you can do, and the kind of Art you can control: find
the moving currents in the air that you feel are warmer. If your senses are
right, then you can catch them.”
/ 2 • 33
“Warm pockets of air, huh?” She nods and puts a hand on her chin as
she thinks. It might sound like a load of bullshit, but I didn’t lie to her. If
the fairies are alive, then they must give off heat, and that’s where Azaka
excels. All she needs to do is find the small nooks warmer than others as
soon as she knows that fairies are about. That would be the fairies trying
to maneuver in the space around her.
In any case, we conclude our planning after that. In a stroke of unexpected
generosity, Azaka lends me one of her pajamas, just a bit larger
than what I’m used to, and I take the top bunk and go to sleep.
34 • KINOKO NASU
Records in Oblivion - III
January 5, Tuesday.
Shiki refused to wake up despite me spending the better part of thirty
minutes trying my best efforts to do so. Either she’s an amazingly sound
sleeper, or is actually awake and just lazy. Either way, I gave up on her, and
at just past seven o’ clock, I decided to just head to the study hall on the
first floor by myself.
Normally, the study hall is populated by the same students (of which I
am one of their number, of course) occupying the same spaces, dutifully
studying for exams, but the break has cleared the room of most of its usual
semi-residents. What the hall was built for and what most students actually
use it for can be wildly different at times: at the same time that studious
individuals are perusing books, others are conversing behind shelves, keeping
a constant lookout for the patrolling sister Einbach, lest she unleash the
customary disciplinary lectures when she discovers students misbehaving.
The ease of using the shelves as concealment isn’t lost on me, and so I
know that over the break it becomes one of the best places for any sort of
clandestine meeting, especially so in mornings like these, when it sees little
activity, and even less so on breaks.
Seeking to exploit that fact, I arranged a meeting with class D’s president
here. Yesterday, when me and Shiki asked a few questions to a few of the
students from the class, they were fairly uncooperative, and all of them
spouted the same suspiciously similar lines. We couldn’t get anything of
value out of them. Well, it’s not as if I expected them to open up to people
they perceive to be outsiders like us. So I saw little choice except to be a bit
more direct, and I saw the best option for that was to make our position
clear and talk to the class president, one Fumio Konno.
All seems as expected when I finally arrive at the study hall, with no one
in sight. No stove for heating can be found here, because the hall is too
large, and so entering the hall, I am caught off guard by the winter chill
running through the spacious room, colder than it is anywhere else in the
building.
“Kokutō, over here,” says a cool voice from deeper inside the hall. It is
only a whisper, but the loneliness of the hall seems almost to amplify it. I
can see rows upon rows of shelves inside, and between two of them, I can
see Fumio Konno leaning out her head, waiting for me. Quickly, I close the
door and head further inside.
I share only one thing in common with Fumio Konno: the fact that we
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - III • 35
transferred into Reien Girl’s Academy’s high school in the same year. Other
than that, we couldn’t be further apart. Her height easily surpasses five and
a half feet, marking her as one of the tallest in the school, while my height
is quite average. Where she is forceful and exuberant, I am composed.
Where her hair is cut quite short, mine is grown out long. She looks almost
an adult, and could probably pass herself off as a college student at least,
and she herself acknowledges that she doesn’t truly act like the kind of girl
that Reien tries to engender.
“I’m quite sorry for having to meet you so early in the morning,” I say to
Konno as I near the shelves she’s hiding between. I bow to her to acknowledge
that this is the first time we’ve met, but she is evidently surprised
by this courtesy enough to cross her arms as she draws a nervous breath,
averting her eyes from me in the short moments it takes me to bow.
“Er, forget about it. I can’t sleep easy with the girls in my class anyway.
Keeping myself occupied through other things seems like the right thing
to do at this point. So, what was it that was so important for you to talk
about? Is it about Hayama?”
Well, that was certainly straightforward, and it catches me off guard.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, yeah,” she says with a snicker. “I sort of heard you were asking
around with the people in my class yesterday, and some looker no one
recognized was tagging along with you. Besides, what else would be so
important to the president of class A to ask me about personally?” She
ends with a slightly suspicious glance at my direction.
As I’d feared, word of our activities is spreading faster than anticipated. I
glance back at Konno, trying to dispel her little fear. “I never really thought
much of Mr. Hayama at first, but I suppose that was a mistake on my part.
I’ll be frank with you Ms. Konno. I’ve been tasked by the Mother Superior
to investigate the incident that happened in class D. I need you to tell me if
you know anything.” Unexpectedly, the tall girl’s face darkens at my inquiry.
“Straight from the Mother Superior, huh? I guess honors students are
different. And they just told me to keep forgetting about the incident and
focus on studying. Wow.”
“Keep forgetting. So that means—”
“Pretty much. I’m in the same boat as Mr. Kurogiri. I was at the scene,
unable to do anything. Then, nothing, Beyond knowing that the thing
happened, I can’t remember anything. Then, I remember Kashima and
Ruridō being transported to the infirmary somehow. I tried to visit them
in the infirmary, but the Mother Superior forbade it when she was interviewing
them.” Sweat starts to glisten from her forehead, and she seems
36 • KINOKO NASU
almost embarrassed to even be speaking at all. That only goads me to press
further and ask.
“I have a wild theory here but—did you get a letter too?”
“Oh, that. It wasn’t as creepy as the kind the other two got. It was pretty
benign, comparatively. A lot of us got it every day, including Kashima and
Ruridō. That’s got to drive you up the wall, doesn’t it? Mine just had stuff
about walking home together with an old junior high crush, or my pet cat
that died a long time ago. At first, I thought it was pretty useless. But then I
almost started to like the letters. They made me remember things I almost
forgot about. That whoever was sending them still knew about it was kind
of scary and all, but to be honest, it didn’t seem to register all that much
with me.”
“Did you ever feel guilty about what he was sending you?”
“I dunno. Maybe I did, and I just didn’t know what to call it.”
“This might be a long shot but, do you know who sent the letters, or
know anyone who would?”
“No one I know. But this is hardly a normal situation anymore is it? If
we’re assuming that things like ghosts or fairies exist, then surely there
must be some…thing that knows.”
She fails to specify what she thinks, however, so I try to change tack. “So
personally, what do you think about what happened, Miss Konno?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore. It’s weird, that’s for sure, but my
class has always been weird from the start. Maybe it’s some kind of karmic
thing, y’know? Maybe you don’t know about class D, Kokutō, but they’re
all actually high school transferees. A lot of the parents think they’re problem
children, so they dump them here. Me included.”
Even I know about Fumio Konno’s reason for being here. She was a star
basketball player in her high school once, but her dad wanted her only
daughter to follow in the family enterprise. When she rebelled, her father
put her into Reien by force to discipline her, and that was the end of that. I
didn’t realize it’s a fate she shares with the rest of her class.
“What can you tell me about Mr. Hayama setting fire to the dormitory?”
I ask. This is the most important card I can play. The sisters forbade us from
talking about it on pain of expulsion, and it shut the girls up quite effectively.
Hopefully, the trust Fumio Konno shows in me can lead to something
fresh.
Her face turns bitter and she looks away as I ask the question. “I have
no idea what he was thinking, burning the dormitory down. Hideo Hayama
was unhinged. Behind the closed doors of our class he was fond of going on
and on, complaining about why his brother didn’t let him just—” a pause,
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - III • 37
and a gulp “—fuck the Mother Superior. I dunno. Maybe you don’t believe
me. But as far as I’m concerned, he had no business being an instructor.”
Her voice starts to break, becoming halting. “And Kaori even died because
of him! All because his brother took pity on him and gave the jobless fool a
responsibility! Our class…we didn’t have anything to do with it. We weren’t
responsible!”
She spits out the words louder than she probably should have, and they
echo across the empty study hall, giving me a moment of alarm before I
remember that the hall is empty. I peek my head out of the shelves just to
make sure, and quickly return to Fumio Konno, only a few moments ago
looking cheerful and confident, now reduced to hiding her face from me,
obviously holding back her sobs. I’d try to press further about what she
means with her eerie last statement, but I realize I can’t get anything more
out of her at this state, not now at least.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Konno,” I stammer awkwardly. “I really am. If it’s any
consolation, you’ve been very helpful. Let’s leave it at that for now. Do you
need help getting back?”
“No,” she quickly says, her voice muffled by a hand over her mouth.
“Just leave me here for a while.”
I turn my back on her hesitantly and start to walk out of the shelves
worriedly. Just before I turn the corner however, I try to ask her one last
question.
“Do you believe in the fairies?” I almost regret the throwaway manner
with which I state it, but Konno looks up at me with a measure of surprise
in her eyes.
“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist, right? I mean, how else
can you explain the memories being like they are in our class?”
I sigh in agreement, and leaving her, I make a beeline straight out of the
study hall.
After parting with Fumio Konno, I try to socialize with the few members
of class D I happen to run into in the halls, but the responses are expectedly
the same as before. In fact, there are much less of them wandering the
halls now, as if they’ve started to hide themselves in their rooms to reduce
their contact with the outside world as much as possible, like they were
waiting for something. The few class D students I encounter all shared the
same desire of wanting to go home, whispered in tones of cold disappointment.
When I asked them why they don’t, in fact, go home, they only give
me a very confused look.
38 • KINOKO NASU
I already knew I couldn’t get a proper conversation out of anyone except
Fumio Konno, being the class president weighted with responsibilities
that she needed to get off her chest. The only thing I can gather is that
all of them certainly believe in the rumors of fairies sweeping away the
memories. Everyone did indeed receive the mysterious letters, and like Mr.
Kurogiri, everyone had gaps in their memories.
The conclusion I can derive is that all of the girls of class D are hiding
something. What that may be, I can’t say, but it’s almost certain that Hideo
Hayama was embroiled in the very center of it.
With few other options, I make my way to the faculty room. Hideo
Hayama might have left the school in November after the fire, but I’m
hoping there might still be something in his files I can uncover.
“Excuse me,” I whisper to no one in particular as I open the door to the
empty faculty room. I know it’s empty at this time since the instructors
rarely use it except for the morning meeting they have, and the office’s
custodian is out on vacation as well. “Thank you, Lord,” I whisper with a
smile on my face, half in my luck, and half in actual benediction.
It doesn’t take me long to find the file on November last year, and I take
my time poring over its contents. I hardly realize that an hour has passed
while I’m flipping over files and opening folders in the unlit room, my sight
only helped by the sunlight peeking through the windows. Despite my best
hopes though, I can’t find anything of great importance to my investigation.
“Darn. Looks like I’ll really have to use Shiki and search every nook and
cranny of this school for a clue.” I don’t really want to have her follow me
around like some kind of obedient Doberman, but it seems I have little
choice. With nothing else to do, I close the file, now a bit messier than
when I opened it. But one of the papers catches my eye.
“Hideo Hayama, employed since 1989, employment termination at
December 1998.” At first glance, it seems typical enough. But a cursory
inspection reveals some very strange details. December 1998? That seems
impossible when the fire happened in the beginning of November, and
they haven’t heard a word or seen nary a peek from Hideo Hayama since.
But according to this he was employed until December. And below that,
the reason for termination is listed as “no known permanent address.”
Does that mean he’s missing?
The thoughts roil in my mind as I return the file where I found it and
quickly slip out of the faculty room and back into the corridor…
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - III • 39
…only to meet the person I least expected—nor least desired—to meet.
“Oh, Miss Kokutō. What business do you have in the faculty room so
early, pray tell?”
“G—good morning, Mr. Kurogiri.” I give a quick bow. “It’s already noon,
though.” I try to dodge the question at the same time as I try to dodge past
him without seeming in too much of a hurry. Yesterday, with Shiki beside
me, I allowed myself to feel at least a bit less disquieted by him as I do regularly,
but alone, the unease returns. My chest tightens, and my heart races.
I can’t tell anymore whether the unease comes from the fact that he looks
so like Mikiya, or it’s simply the nervously calm air with which he carries
himself. “Were you retrieving something from the faculty room?”
Despite my careless question, he answers. “Ah, yes. Something the
Mother Superior asked me to do. A list of the students’ names, rendered in
French. She needs to send it to the sister institution in France.”
“I see. Our names, is it?” I stammer clumsily. I try to slip past him to end
the conversation there.
“Indeed. You are not entirely unrelated to the matter either. The short
list for exchange student candidates for our French sister school includes
you and Ōji.”
That stops me in my tracks before I manage to make my way past him.
This is the first time I’ve heard of this. I take a moment to relish that fact
before continuing my steps. But I stop again when I pass him to ask him the
question I’ve asked the students, but haven’t yet asked him.
“Mr. Kurogiri, are you aware of the rumor circling amongst the students
these days?”
“The fae, correct? Yes, I’ve heard of them.”
“Do you believe it, sir? Oh, but of course I don’t believe in them myself,”
I quickly add. Unexpectedly, he smiles a lazy smile.
“I think I understand your confusion. Stories of the fae aren’t as numerous
here in Japan as they are in my country, are they? I think I find I have
an affinity for the old Scottish tales of the cait sith, the cu sith, and other
fantastical creatures.”
I’m surprised for a few moments at his response, and it takes me some
precious few moments more to remember that Mr. Kurogiri was, in fact, a
foreigner. The university he studied in might have had something as esoteric
as folkloristics, so my question might not have seemed so childish as I
had originally assumed.
“If I remember correctly, the cait sith is the cat that wears long boots.”
“Oho, so you know. Still, talking cats find some commonality in some
Japanese folk tales as well, so it’s not something so original.”
40 • KINOKO NASU
Hah, well at least he knows where to sniff out actual intelligence when
it’s present. “So do the myths seem more real in your country, sir? Or are
they still another misunderstanding of folk practices or natural phenomena?”
“I haven’t heard much in the way of such things recently, but there is
always the odd story of children being spirited away and replaced. More
and more I find the breed of stories of farmers being helped out by the
Good Folk diminishing dramatically.” He clears his throat before continuing.
“Those old legends of the seelie faries—of brownies and knockers, for
example—are really just one way of exaggerating the acts of men who, for
one reason or another, find themselves cast out of every village they visit.
Left with little recourse except to live a hermit’s life, they briefly appear
to lend a welcome hand in menial tasks such as the harvesting of crops,
through which they hope to build a friendly relationship.”’
“That sounds like a very noble way to live a life,” I remark.
“Yes, but on the other hand, you have the tales of kidnapped children,
where the stories of changelings come from. Some legends are about
gentry kidnapping certain children they believe to be of some random
stock blessed by God. Their desire for these children leads them to swap
the child.”
“What happens to the kidnapped child?” As soon as I say the question,
Mr. Kurogiri reacts with a wide grin.
“Ah, do not fret so much on it. They usually turned out the way they
were before. You see, since it was gentry that took them, it was usually
easy to find the child in the baptismal records of a church. Any man, nobilis
or no, had their child baptized lest the child suffer in society through persecution.
So a trip to the church usually satisfied the altercation quite legally.”
I sigh, and almost smile, until he continues.
“But then there are the cases where this is not true, where no other
sensible explanation is true. There are the children actually whisked away
by the fae, the ones they called changelings.”
“So you do believe in them, sir?”
“Yes,” he says without hesitation, “I think they exist. But it doesn’t mean
I have to like them. The pranks they pull sometimes go much, much too far.
The changelings are one example. They would kidnap a child, sometimes
keeping it for many years, and then return it inexplicably on its parent’s
doorstep. Then its parents would find their joy quickly curtailed when the
child rapidly grows ill, its very essence misaligned, only to die a slow, lonely
death, hated by its parents and lost to the world.”
I almost bring a hand to my mouth. This was certainly not the kinds of
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - III • 41
fairy tales I had grown up hearing.
“Oh, I am sorry,” the instructor quickly says. “It seems I have spoken
overmuch yet again.”
“N—no,” I utter meekly. “I enjoyed it quite well, sir. If you’ll excuse me,
however…” I let the sentence hang unfinished, give a curt bow, and hurry
away with uneasy but quickened steps, as far away from Mr. Kurogiri as my
feet will reasonably carry me.
Noon passes, and more out of a combined desire to get away from Mr.
Kurogiri and simultaneously avoid Shiki more than anything else, I decide
to head to the burned down dormitory in the eastern end of the campus.
I’m not particularly certain I’ll glean anything of actual importance there,
but I feel like I should visit the place that Hideo Hayama tried to burn down
at least once, seeing as my investigation seems to be heading closer and
closer to that direction.
When I stand before the dormitory, I see its perimeter surrounded
by ropes, a “No Entry” sign in place to discourage any casual would-be
intruders. Obviously, it’s not enough to deter me. I walk over the ropes
and toward the imposing structure. Most of it is a burned down hulk, the
rooms formerly lined up on its east wing completely gutted, as though a
giant monster clawed it down from roof to foundation. What little partitions
remain that were once the walls and floors of its rooms are crumbling
and blackened wood and concrete. In contrast, immediately westward of
that sight is the building’s west wing, the corridor leading out of the rooms
and everything west of it surviving largely intact.
Walking through the corridor, you’d never notice that immediately to
the east, beyond doors that remain closed, a fire had taken the other half.
Open the doors, however, and you see only the campus and the verdant
trees beyond, like a bad piece of installation art. Maybe it’s better to have
the doors remain closed, as respect to the last bitter taste of normalcy this
building still has.
Though his name bounces around in my mind more and more these
days, I’ve only really seen Hideo Hayama the one time. He was teaching
in classes C through E, so he never had any reason to come to class A. The
one time I saw him was during a morning service, looking bored and flipping
absentmindedly through the pages of a Bible. I took him to be at least
thirty years old, and his face plain and unassuming.
“How am I supposed to look into him when I don’t even know the first
thing about the man?” Now I’m talking to myself, which is probably a sign
42 • KINOKO NASU
that there’s little left for me here and that I should leave. I descend from the
second floor back to the first using the lonely, barely lit stairwell, making
my way to the still-intact exit.
Only to find a familiar figure blocking the exit, shadowed by the afternoon
sun. Though her features are obscured, it’s easy enough to figure out.
There is little else in Reien with black hair as fine, and features as delicate
as Misaya Ōji, the secret power behind the academy. She walks towards
me wordlessly, and something makes me feel I should hold my tongue until
she has her chance to speak. She stops when she is only two meters in
front of me. She looks me straight in the face, and grants me a gentle smile.
“So tell me, Miss Kokutō. Has there been progress in your efforts?”
Misaya Ōji says to me. As soon as she says that, the temperature seems
almost to drop a few precious degrees, though I can’t say for certain why,
or even if it’s real. But it’s enough to put me on guard. Her voice is familiar,
more so than the level that I associate with the many snippets of conversation
that I have heard through her in the past months, but on a more recent
level. Somehow, a memory of a noise, of an echoing chorus like the buzzing
of flies, comes to mind. Memory turns to reality, and I am certain the noise
swelling to some kind of low crescendo that I hear right now is similar.
The fact falls into place, and I realize belatedly that this will be a repeat
of what happened to me yesterday. My memories will be stolen again, and
I will stand here dazed and confused for god knows how long this time. I
don’t have my glove handy right now for a quick spell, but there is little
choice. The flame calls, and perhaps it is not yet too late. I focus on Misaya
Ōji in front of me, and then weave my Art, feeling the pattern around me
and sensing hot currents in the air like Shiki told me to.
I can feel the spell working, and I close my eyes almost reflexively, trusting
the Art to tell me of any unnatural pockets of heat in the air. And then—
“—Gotcha!” Something warm tried to draw near my chest, but I catch it
with my bare hands before it can hit me. I’ve definitely caught something
with my hand, and it’s making a frantic, keening noise. I ignore it for now
and open my eyes, keeping my gaze locked and level with Misaya Ōji.
“Well, well,” she says, as if she had expected the entire thing. “You told
me that you’ve never seen the fae in your life, but here you are swatting
one away?”
Her tone is enough to assure me, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that
she is the enemy I’ve been looking for.
“I see. So my one hour blank yesterday was me talking to you.”
“Yes, and you have made things so much easier for me. My children
have made it simple for me to know what sort of person you truly are, Miss
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - III • 43
Kokutō.” She raises a hand to brush something unseen on her shoulder,
and I hear the same familiar keening sound in response. Another fairy?
No. If I wove my spell right, then there is a minutely abnormal amount of
heat all around her, a rough estimate numbering in fifty such sources. And
though I don’t truly see the fairies, I am almost overwhelmed by the truly
impressive amount of potential she can bring to bear.
“Your composure is admirable, Miss Kokutō. It almost seems as if you’re
not even surprised, though I know it is a simple lie. However, I was surprised
at what I learned about you. To think that there would be someone in the
academy that studied the Art besides myself.”
“You don’t surprise me, Miss Ōji. I’ve known from the beginning that
there was a mage here with fairy familiars. But you; you waited for me to be
alone didn’t you? To be vulnerable, and then eliminate me? Commendable
strategy, but it seems a mistake to me to reveal yourself.”
I try to stall for time, scanning the area around me for alternative exits. I
remind myself that my part here is only reconnaissance, not a fight. While
I’d gladly take a fistfight any day of the week, even I don’t desire a duel to
the death between mages such as us.
“Perish the thought. I never thought to remove you, Miss Kokutō. Why
would I, when you are one of the few of my breed of person? Understanding
each other would be better than to put a blade at each other’s throats in
this situation, yes?”
“Says the person who tried to set her fairy familiars on me.”
“Oh I only tried to learn more about you, my dear. Very useful, if we
are to have any sort of meaningful conversation and avoid meaningless
deaths,” she says with a deathly calm voice. Is she actually serious? I glance
for a moment at the corridor that stretches behind me—my only means
of escape—and try to stall her to until she reveals some point where I can
retreat in relative safety.
“Talk? With me?”
“Why of course! You visited this desolate place, Miss Kokutō, and that is
enough to endear you to me. For this place is—”
“—the place where Kaori Tachibana lost her life, isn’t it?” Ōji nods, satisfied.
Her eyes, however, still betray a merciless and spiteful mien, cold as
winter. “The one student in November’s unfortunate fire that somehow
couldn’t get away. You knew her, Miss Ōji?” Another graceful nod at my
question.
“I valued Kaori very dearly, like I would a little sister. She took in hardship
her entire life, but her faith in the Almighty God was beyond question.
And yet, she died here, her life free of great sin and still full of beauty. She
44 • KINOKO NASU
had chosen a difficult path for herself.” Ōji’s voice descends into a tinge of
melancholy, but I cannot find any mercy in her words. “And though this
horrible tragedy has taken place, the girls have not yet learned their lesson.
They have not renounced their sins, even as they live knowing that Kaori
lost her life as a sacrifice. That is not the manner of a human. The students
of class D are all sinners, and sinners cannot be permitted to sully my institution.
Garbage such as them must always be burnt away.”
“Wait, so you’re saying that the students of class D killed Kaori
Tachibana?”
“No. That would give them too much credit. Miss Kokutō, Kaori took her
own life. But I cannot expect you to understand what that truly implies.”
Her gaze full of disdain doesn’t stray away from me for a second even as
I wonder what she’s truly trying to say. At the very least, I can gather that
class D was somehow involved in Kaori Tachibana’s death in the fire. But
what did she mean that I wouldn’t understand?
“Then all of this is payback for Kaori Tachibana’s sake?”
“Correct. I swear that as long as I stand, those girls will see hellfire, and
they will find no rest in their days here in Reien.”
“So you would kill them, then?” I ask desperately, though I think the
answer is obvious enough already. Misaya Ōji recognizes no humanity in
her prey. Murder is not enough for her. She will see them purged thoroughly.
But even as I think this, she surprises me by shaking her head.
“Why should I? Killing them is no guarantee that they will be sent to
the pits of hell where they rightfully belong. This is why I say you do not
understand, though I do not blame you. Stay your hand and stand down,
Miss Kokutō. I do not desire to fight you today.” She brushes the invisible
fairy perched on her shoulder as she says this; a subtle, yet unnerving
movement. “Though you cannot truly see them, these little folk are pregnant
with memories, yours included. Striking, isn’t it? Your memories are
the beauty of cold, smooth marble, yet they burn with an inner fire. And
though they are as unseen to me as the fae are to you, I can feel the purity
of your recollections. You are truly splendid, Miss Kokutō.” Her gentle smile
only serves to make her tender speech more unnerving.
And when I look at her, I welcome the arrival of another emotion, one
I haven’t felt in this intensity in almost three years. An emotion that I felt
when I first saw Mikiya with Shiki. The urge to kick the ass of the woman in
front of me as hard as I can.
We stand there for a few more moments as she waits for my reply, and
I don’t give an inch to her thinly veiled threat. As far as I’m concerned,
she’s violated me as surely as if she’d stolen all of my belongings, and
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - III • 45
that demands a display of response as potent as I can muster. I banish the
thought of escaping from my mind, and stay until finally, I elicit a small sigh
from Misaya.
“You have made your choice, then. And I was so looking forward to
getting to know you better. Is there truly no room in your heart for a truce,
Miss—”
“None whatsoever,” I quickly cut in. Misaya only chuckles.
“Is that so? A shame. I had taken you for kindred, and we share so much
alike. Our intense passions for our brothers, for example.”
“Wh—wha,” I struggle to finish but the word doesn’t come out completely.
My throat dries instantly, and I know my face is turning beet red by the
second. Misaya Ōji, on the other hand, only closes her eyes, truly enjoying
herself.
“Yes, it came straight from your lips yesterday, but I suppose you do not
remember. I know about your brother, and about you becoming a mage.
You see? We travel in the same direction. Though you have practiced the
Art for half a year now, I have claimed it only recently.”
The Art. That most potent of words strikes me deep, and reinforces my
understanding of the situation’s gravity: that I am fighting another weaver
of magic, and that the unconventional nature of such duels makes them
quick and deadly.
Misaya continues. “When Kaori died, I learned how to craft the fae familiars,
and the Art of robbing memories. Not for the typical mage’s lofty goals
of enlightenment, but as tools for my own purpose. I collect the memories
relating to Kaori only for her sake, to remove all vestiges of her shame. I
care little about anything else. I am not destroying anything, nor committing
murder. And you still think this a selfish goal, Miss Kokutō?”
“I don’t think it’s for me to judge, but you have terrorized the students
of class D, as well as troubled a teacher. Why you had to affect Mr. Kurogiri
though, I can’t seem to grasp.” At the mention of his name, I notice Misaya’s
eyebrow twitch. She must know as well that Mr. Kurogiri only became
class D’s homeroom instructor well after Kaori Tachibana died and Hideo
Hayama disappeared. He has little relation to the incident. Why, then, has
he too had his memory plundered by the fairies? “It seems to me to be a
bit overzealous for you to take his,” I say outright.
I thought she would betray some flaw in her plan, but contrary to what
I expected, she lowers her worried eyebrow and scoffs with a noise half in
annoyance as well as amusement.
“Not overzealous, I should think. All this is of little consequence to him,
but the truth must still be hidden from him.”
46 • KINOKO NASU
“But why?”
Misaya Ōji turns sideward, her hair swaying gently swaying as she
answers. “Because my blood is his blood. Because he is my true brother.”
“Your true brother? Him?” I stutter out, unbelieving. Maybe it’s nothing
but a great coincidence, but I realize that it isn’t out of the realm of possibility.
The Ōji all adopt their daughters, so Misaya’s former name might
really have been Misaya Kurogiri, for all I know.
Misaya elaborates, unmindful of my surprise. “At first, I didn’t know.
After Kaori’s death, I was full of suspicion at the entirety of class D, and
turned to their new instructor in my desperation. I talked to him, asking
for some way to help me deal with all this, when alone I could do nothing.
And Mr. Kurogiri was truly kind. For the sake of knowing this gentle soul
better, I snatched his memories. But that too was a blessing, for there in his
dreaming was the proof that he was my true brother. Somehow, he knew
something about the true nature of Kaori’s death, and so regrettably I had
to silence him.”
She casts her eyes downwards before continuing. “Once when I was
little and knew nothing, my brother said to me that I should honor the
living more than the dead. But how can I do that now, when the ones still
alive, living peacefully, are the ones that pushed Kaori to her suicide? I
remembered what my brother said to me long ago, and so I couldn’t stand
to see him burdened by that knowledge. So I took away his memory of the
incident, and of me being his sister. All of it. Satsuki will live without worry,
and love me without regret. And having done this, there is no turning back
for me.”
I am at a loss for words at the gravity of her act. She says we are alike, a
statement that may be true. But I look at her, and listen to her, and realize
that we are alike only in so many superficial ways. What we desire may be
similar, but our means cannot be more different.
“But that had a use to you as well, didn’t it?” I reply. “You took his memories
only to preserve the secret of class D. But what will you do about me,
I wonder?”
“That will be decided by you soon enough, surely? I have taught you
about our common ground, Miss Kokutō, and I understand the discord
within you. And with time, I can grant you the thing which you’ve longed
for so much.”
Misaya holds out her hand to me, conciliatory and genuine. I look at her
outstretched arm, the arm of an enemy that throws her crimes in my face.
“I’m willing to overlook this, on a condition…” I lie to her.
At the same time, I think about what she is truly capable of doing, and
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - III • 47
a thought crosses my mind, unbidden. If she could truly do as she says she
can do—
“…if you can bring back to me a long forgotten memory.”
—then perhaps her Art can be mine.
“A forgotten memory?” she says, amused.
“Like you, I have a brother that I love dearly. But the memory of the
moment I fell in love with him has been lost. If you can bring back that
memory from my mind—”
“It cannot be done, I’m afraid. If you yourself have forgotten it, it is no
longer a memory. Merely a record of one. And the fae only extract the
former.”
I sigh, disappointed, but also somewhat relieved.
“Then it seems a deal can’t be brokered between us.” I tense my muscles
for what I know will come next. There is little distance between us. Only
two bounding steps, and I can be close enough to kick her in the face if I
wanted to. Misaya too, leans forward, shifting her center.
“Miss Kokutō, you know that a familiar must be crafted from something,
yes?”
I know at least that much. Does she think I’m new to the Art?
“Then you must know that what you hold in your hand was borne from
some material.” There is a keenness to her smile.
I find that my gaze falls to the thing I have been keeping secured in my
hand the entire time. But though before I couldn’t see it, now I find that I
can. The fairy’s appearance differs from what I expected. Here, in my hand,
is the form of a person I had seen only once, a little Hideo Hayama. I inadvertently
let it go with a startled cry.
In that instant of weakness, Misaya Ōji rushes forward. I black out with
the kind of intensity that overtakes victims of blood loss, but before it I see
only the image of Misaya Ōji reaching out with a hand and touching my
forehead.
48 • KINOKO NASU
/ 3
“If memories are painted in our minds as clearly as any image, why are
we able to forget?” he asks.
“Forgetting is natural,” I answer.
“Those are only things you can’t bring to mind. Even you remember such
things. Memories slough off me like rotten skin, but my mind is not the
mind of man. The mind of man loses nothing,” he says.
“But to be unable to bring something to mind is to forget it,” I protest.
“Forgetting is a degeneration, not a loss. Only excess from which color
retreats. Isn’t it wasteful? All of it is the stuff of eternity, withering and
rusting. But such eternity can only be disposed by one’s own will,” he says.
I offer no answer. “Eternity is relentless, and this lingering grief must be
retrieved and returned to you. Though you think it lost to oblivion, the
memory repeats like a record.”
“Who decides what is eternal and what is not?” I ask.
“No one knows. That is why we search,” he answers.
He is one for whom thoughts are foreign and cannot be derived, one
whose answers are merely emanations of the past, and of snatched ideas
and the disparate thoughts of strangers.
A knock on the door rouses me to wake. Immediately, I see the window,
and the ashen sunlight streaking through it that makes me unable to
determine whether it’s morning or noon. A quick glance at the desk clock
confirms my suspicion that it is already past noon.
“Miss Kokutō, are you there?” I hear a voice call from outside the room.
It’s only then that the splitting headache I always get from oversleeping
starts to become apparent, and reflexively, I hold a hand to the side of my
head because of the pain. I try to ignore it as I descend from the top bunk
and open the door to the room.
Standing outside the door is one of the nuns, who gives me a once over
before a look of confusion settles on her face.
“Hi. Yeah. Shiki Ryōgi,” I say lazily before I notice that I have to keep up
appearances. “I am a transferee for the upcoming term.”
“Er, yes, of course,” says the sister, her look of suspicion slackening but
not really disappearing. “Miss Kokutō has a phone call from her family.”
It figures that the one time he family calls, she’s not around to take it. Oh
well, nothing to be done about it.
/ 3 • 49
“Perhaps I could take the call in her place, seeing as she is out,” I say. “I
am close to the Kokutō family, after all.” At least if you count their estranged
son, I suppose.
“I see. Then there is no problem. I shall have the call transferred to the
lobby phone, so please hurry.” The nun gives one curt bow before leaving
quickly. I move to exit the room, but realize that I still have Azaka’s
oversized pajamas on. I get them out of the way and change into one of
Azaka’s uniform robes, walking as fast as I can to the lobby in the dormitory
entrance.
I saw the phone in the lobby yesterday, lacking any dials or buttons, but
it was sitting next to a really neat sofa, so maybe they’re hoping that makes
up for it. According to Azaka, they filter the calls, which first go to a room
managed by one of the sisters. If it’s not the family of one of the students,
they have to reject it. If the call has their approval, they have it transferred
to the lobby phone, where the student can take the call privately.
Even when I’m going to the lobby, I already have a good idea who’s calling,
and when I arrive and pick up the receiver, it only confirms my suspicions.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Azaka?” It’s a voice I know very well. Mikiya’s voice. I give the
lobby a once-over to see if no one’s around before talking.
“Nope, not this time. Azaka’s out. It’s only the fifth day of the new year
and already you’re pining after your sister?” I say in an unusually cold way,
even for me.
“Shiki, where’s Azaka?”
“Dunno. Out, like I told you, doing something or another. She’s been in
a hell of a hurry since this morning when she tried her best to wake me up.
I think she really wants to take care of things as fast as possible and hurry
back home.”
“Really? She doesn’t seem to enjoy herself much when she’s at home,
though. I told her it’d be easier if she stayed over there.”
“I don’t think here being better for her is any real deterrent for her to
go home, if you know what I mean.” Of course he doesn’t. “So, what’s your
business, Mikiya?”
“Nothing in particular. I was planning on surprising Azaka, but that’s not
too important. Just wanted to check up on how the two of you are doing.”
“Well, I can’t say for sure. Maybe if you call up again tomorrow, you can
ask Azaka yourself. See ya.”
“No, wait a minute, Shiki!” I hear his voice coming from the receiver
right after I move it away from my ear. I look at myself at the mirror at the
50 • KINOKO NASU
far end of the room, seeing myself holding the receiver and frowning. I
can’t rightly place why.
“You called to talk to Azaka. You don’t have anything to say to me, right?”
“Yes, I do! I’ve been worried about you. Talk to me for a while. Besides, if
I’d wanted to talk to you, I’d have said Azaka’s name to the nuns over there
anyway, since they don’t allow any phone calls except for family. Anyway,
any progress on the search?”
“Some. Not a lot. Anyway, I really hate talking on the phone, so maybe
we can do this later when I’m not interrupting you.”
“Alright. Fine. I mean, it’s not like I’m allowed to call you again today
anyway, so maybe I’ll call you tomorrow.” There’s just that little bit of
sarcasm in how Mikiya says it…on second thought, maybe talking to him
for a little while isn’t so bad.
“Well, if you’re free anyway, maybe you can do me a favor. I can’t find
out anything from here, so maybe you’ll have more luck outside. There’s
a former instructor here in Reien by the name of Hideo Hayama, and also
a guy named Satsuki Kurogiri. Any chance you can get their work history
before they got here?”
Mikiya sighs. “Well, won’t know ‘til I try.”
“It’s not totally important, so it’s alright if you can’t,” I reassure him “I
don’t want you getting reckless. Don’t go doing anything illegal or something
just to get it. Anyway, I probably need to go and look for Azaka
wandering around the campus.”
“Wait, wait. If you’re asking me for a favor, then I’ll ask you one too.
There’s a student there named Kaori Tachibana, and I’d like you to search
on her records. Attendance records in PE, disciplinary actions, stuff like
that. Reien keeps a tight lid on their paperwork, so I can’t access it from
where I am.”
I vaguely wonder for a moment what he’s up to, but it’s sure to be something
that has to be useful if it’s investigating a Reien student.
“Alright. If I can, I’ll do it. Bye for now, Mikiya.” After saying that, I put
the receiver back on.
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - IV • 51
Records in Oblivion - IV
Sleep, Miss Kokutō. Within your hollow dreamscapes lies the grief that
I will repeat.
The last words I hear from Misaya Ōji before I descend into oblivion.
When my eyes close, darkness overtakes me, and for a moment, there is a
nothingness of neither dream nor sleep. And then, within the stirrings of
the dreaming, I gaze on eternity.
***
But I hate that. I want to be special.
I said that once. But when did I say it? I don’t even remember the face
of who I was talking to, or what I looked like at the time. It was a very, very
long time ago. When I came of age, I’ve only yearned for the shadow of
that one word. Like a curse, it hung over me, and I couldn’t love any life
that led me closer to it. I don’t truly know why. But I know that I don’t
want to be like everyone else around me. Awakening mundanely, living
mundanely, and sleeping mundanely; I scorned their nature.
I am me and me alone. I have to be different. The child that embraced
that vague concept soon came to think of “different” as outclassing everyone
else. But when I grew up, I freed myself from the innocent but confining
vestiges of those youthful thoughts. Every year, my body forced itself
into adulthood, and every year I kept the secret, deceiving everyone that I
was normal; though inside, my difference with the other children my age
only widened.
Performing well in academics was never my road to becoming special. I
wanted to be more than this, a thing apart altogether. It didn’t mean to the
best in everything. It didn’t mean to be weak, either. Only something else.
And it was an impulse that led me to abandon so many connections. With
this impulse, I hurt people, estranged myself, sometimes even made them
fear me. And it made me happier to slough away the excess. My friends, my
teachers, and even my parents gave me the strange sort of distant praise
that always follows those that clearly overreach. And through all this, some
fashion of peace over my perturbed soul seemed almost at reach.
It was a time when it almost felt as if something else held dominion over
me, something that longed to return to some primal origin, predetermined
52 • KINOKO NASU
before I was even born. As a child who followed this urge, I could never
judge if it was right or wrong. I only knew that if I indulged it, my wish of
being a different thing would become true.
A thing apart. A thing that can’t live with others. A thing that can only
hurt. And I tried to fool myself into thinking that this benefited me. But in
the end, it wasn’t some princely figure that shook me from this stupor. It
happened naturally, almost entirely without my notice.
Now what are you doing all by yourself, Azaka? It’s boring to play alone.
Come on home. It’s getting late.
It was only one boy.
I was ever alone, and because I allowed myself to believe that this was
better, I hated him cruelly. But he always sought me out, always drew me
in to play his games. When even my parents were distant, he was always
close at hand to offer a laugh. He talked to me unconditionally. At first I
thought he was only dim-witted, yet he would often grab my hand without
a care, and always led me back home. Only he could have done that. After
all, he was my brother.
And it was then that I dared to hope that the distance I created for the
sake of being different allowed him to entertain the thought, even if in jest
and in passing, that I was not a child of our house, that I was of different
blood. He should always be away from me, to nurture that thought. And
though the idea pricked my heart like the thorn of a hedge, I came to realize
that I had wasted my days in my obsession.
I followed my brother with my eyes every which way he went. He never
drove away a frightening dog, or defended me when my parents were
scolding me, or saved me from drowning in a river. But all the same, I had
to admit to myself one day that the affection I held for him had turned to
love. And it made me hate him even more. Because how could I hold this
irrational love for him, of all people? But no matter how much I denied it,
there was nothing to be done about it. And I found myself looking forward
to the little episodes where he would call for me as I played alone. To the
child that I was, maybe the scorn was nothing more than an echo of my
loneliness.
How many times did I try to summon the will to apologize to my brother?
I had looked down on him for so long, but I couldn’t let an apology form
whole. He let me experience something better, but the child who threw
away what she thought was merely dross found that she couldn’t muster
the simple words of thanks.
Sometimes, I wonder what my brother has done to me. He hasn’t
attempted his foolish sermonizing, and if he had tried, he would have found
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - IV • 53
me well prepared. It seemed almost a change of heart lacking a reason, a
love without a true beginning. But no. There must be a reason. I’ve only
lost it, forgotten the most important thing. And I have to remember it, so I
can start believing in myself again, and believe that this love is certain and
true. And when that happens, maybe I can finally say that I am sorry for
the first time in my life, even if it may well and truly be a clumsy apology.
***
“Wake up, Azaka. You’ll catch a cold out here.”
I know that voice. It is a voice more a man’s than a woman’s, and when
I hear it, I slowly open my eyes. Someone has a hand on my back, helping
me up while staring into my face. The hand holding me up is solid and
almost cold. My vision is still hazy, but I can more or less see that I fell
asleep on some corridor, and someone is trying to wake me up.
“Miki—” I find myself whispering a name, but I quickly stop myself when
I see the clear black hair of the one I’m facing. Me and Shiki Ryōgi both
notice the name I was about to say, and stare at each other more than
either of us found comfortable.
Until Shiki suddenly slips her hand away from my back. Then with a loud
thud, my upper body slams hard on the on the wooden floor, leading to a
sudden white flash of pain.
“What the hell was that for, you ass?!” I protest before proceeding to
stand up in as intimidating a matter as I can muster.
Shiki only glances at me with lazy eyes. “Well that should wake you up.”
“Yes, awake enough to forget whatever important thing it was I was
dreaming, you clumsy barbarian!” I shout. It takes all my force of will just
to stop myself from hitting her.
“So you got hit by them again, I guess.” When she says this, I try to
remember.
I was talking to Misaya Ōji, and I was sure I captured one of the fairies
while it was happening. She cast some kind of illusion on it. I was surprised.
She rushed at me, made me sleep. And the next thing I knew, here’s Shiki.
“Huh, that’s strange. They attacked me for sure, but they took nothing
from my mind. I remember everything that happened.”
“So you know who our fairy mage is? You’ve got a name and a face?”
Shiki asks. I nod. Unfortunately, it wasn’t someone we had ever expected,
nor someone I cared to accuse carelessly. I glance at my wristwatch, and
54 • KINOKO NASU
I realize that it hasn’t been more than a few minutes since I fell asleep.
Maybe she was planning on doing something to me, but she noticed Shiki
was coming and made a break for it before she could pull anything off. I
suppose this time, Shiki really did save me.
“Thanks, Shiki,” I murmur under my breath, making positively sure she
couldn’t have the pleasure of hearing it. “Yes, I know who our culprit is. It’s
Misaya Ōji.”
“That tall girl we saw for a while yesterday?”
“That’s the one. Little time has passed between our conversation and
now, so I’m thinking she escaped to hide from you.”
Shiki nods in acknowledgement, putting a hand on her chin as she
thinks. From her her furrowed brow, I can see she’s thinking that something
doesn’t quite fit.
“What’s wrong, Shiki? Having a spot of indigestion?”
“Wasn’t she one of those that had a bout of forgetfulness too?” She’s
right, but whatever turn of events that might imply is a secondary concern
for now. Shiki seems to arrive at a conclusion close to mine. “Whatever, we
can ask her what’s up when we see her. Anyway, you got a call from Mikiya.
He asked if we could look into some student’s records, one Kaori Tachibana
or somesuch.”
“What?” I say in genuine surprise. That was a name I didn’t expect to
hear out of her or Mikiya. I never wanted him involved in this business.
Back in summer, he got caught up in this stupid ghost incident that left him
asleep for three weeks. Fortunately, since Mikiya lives alone, our parents
never knew, and Miss Tōko took care of him while he was in his short coma.
Thank God for her, because if she wasn’t there, he would’ve died in three
days or less. Ever since then, I’ve never wanted him involved in what Shiki
and Miss Tōko are doing for a living. But how does he know about the
whole mess about the fire, and what name to look up? I’m fairly certain
I said all of one sentence about the fire to him last November, but surely
that wasn’t enough to spark his interest. Miss Tōko promised she’d keep it
a secret, too. Then how did he call with such good timing, and with information
to work on? Who did he talk wi—
“Oh, why didn’t I think of it before? It’s always you, isn’t it Shiki? You
told him where we were going before we left, and that made him curious!
And now he’s probably pried the entire thing out of Miss Tōko.” I say, anger
boiling under my voice.
“What?” she raises her voice in protest. “He was worried I wasn’t telling
him where I was going, and he wanted to know! You’re fault for not being
there to take the call this afternoon and make him back down.”
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - IV • 55
I sigh. I hate to admit it, but she’s right about the call. I could have scolded
him then and there and that would have been the end of it. Shiki shifts
gears, ignoring my complaint.
“Anyway, that’s done and we can’t do anything about it. Mikiya said
something about looking at the girl’s PE attendance record and such. What
do you think? Is it gonna turn up anything?”
“PE attendance record?”
What could that possibly tell us? Some kind of code, or some—
Then in a flash of recollection, I remember what Misaya Ōji said. Kaori
Tachibana didn’t die because she couldn’t escape from the fire. She killed
herself. But there was one important factor that I neglected to ask Misaya
Ōji, and that would be Kaori Tachibana’s
“—reason for killing herself.” I mutter, leaving Shiki to raise an eyebrow.
She and her questions can wait. I break into a run. Shiki, mystified, doesn’t
seem inclined to follow me, which is all the same to me just now. I need to
make this quick. I run out of the ruined dormitory, hurrying back into the
path that goes straight through the forest and leads into the main school
building.
I know exactly where I’m going. The infirmary wing will likely have
records on the students, and my position as class president and my dispensation
from the Mother Superior might just be enough to get one of those
records out.
***
It only takes a little buttering up for the school nurse and administrator
to cough up the documents I need, and within a few minutes, they
allow me to peruse Kaori Tachibana’s health and PE records, as well as her
related infirmary logs.
Second term started from September up to winter break, and the PE for
class D at that time consisted entirely of field trips or other out-of-school
activities, with the homeroom instructor supervising. Kaori Tachibana’s
October attendance record is replete with spots of absences, and a week
before the fire in the old dormitory started, she didn’t attend PE class at all.
Just to make sure, I ask the school nurse, and as I expected, she did indeed
have a check-up in that period. The cards are starting to turn face up, but
the looming presence of our enemy can’t be avoided as long as we’re here.
56 • KINOKO NASU
/ 4
Afternoon passed and the sun soon fell, far too early for what I’m usually
used to. Students are already starting to return to their dormitories and
rooms, as the daily Reien curfew of 6:00pm draws near. Having just eaten
dinner in the dining hall, we make like some of the students and go back
to Azaka’s room.
Outside the window of her room, the sky is a blanket of star-filled night,
and darkness envelops the entirety of the campus, pockets of light from
windows and pathway lamps lighting up certain portions of it here and
there. Nothing breaks the desolate silence except for the blow of the wind,
and the rustle of trees swaying from its brush. If it weren’t for the whole
boarding school system thing, this might have actually been a pretty nice
place to go to school in. The high school I (sort of) go to in the middle of
Tōkyō is infernally noisy at most times of the day.
I enter the room ahead of Azaka, and sit myself down immediately on
the inviting top bunk. Azaka makes sure to lock the door, and with a sway
of her hair, she turns to face me with a troubled look on her face.
“Shiki, you’re hiding something.” Now she has an index finger pointed
squarely at me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. And let’s be honest here, aren’t
you not telling me something too?”
“I’m talking about a physical object, you dunce. Just stop fussing about it
and hand over the knife you stole back in the dining hall,” Azaka says with
a frustrated but not entirely non-belligerent voice.
Well, that’s a genuine surprise. I actually am carrying a bread knife,
stolen straight from the dining hall and hidden right in my sleeve. Either
that knife is too big or I’ve been slipping in my weapon hiding skills if even
someone like Azaka noticed it. Well, I have been practicing too much with
the sword I got last November, so maybe that’s why.
“Oh c’mon, it hardly carries an edge,” I protest. It doesn’t seem to matter
to Azaka, though, who closes to the foot of the bed.
“No. I don’t care. That’s final. Anything you hold turns into a precision
death weapon anyway. I won’t have any accidental deaths in Reien on my
watch.”
“You’re doing a pretty piss poor job of it considering there’s already
been a murder in here.”
“There is a difference between an accident and a murder, you know.
Enough. Just hand over the knife. I don’t know how many times I have to
/ 4 • 57
repeat our objective here before it gets through your thick head.”
“You’re a bigger idiot than I thought if you still think we’re getting away
from here without a fight.” I show Azaka no intention to give up the knife,
and she takes it as her cue to start making her way up to my bunk.
I was serious about what I said to her. I didn’t steal the knife just for
kicks. I told Azaka about me taking out one of the fairies, but I didn’t tell
her that I got pricked by it too. I don’t know if that was enough for Misaya
Ōji to have access to some of my memories, but I have no intention of
letting it happen twice…and besides, the design on the knife is pretty good
and elaborate, even for the school. If I could take it out of here, it would sit
pretty beside the other knives.
Azaka stops at the top of the ladder to my bunk. “You’re really not going
to hand it over, Shiki?”
“Have I ever told you how much of a persistent bull you are? Not your
most attractive trait. It’s why Mikiya keeps breaking his promises to meet
up with you and stuff. Like this New Year’s.”
Azaka’s face scrunches up in a bundle of annoyance. Somehow, I think I
might have hit a nerve.
“Fine. I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time anyway.” Then she
jumps on me with as much force as she can. The tackle forces me from my
sitting position, and makes me fall down on the bed, Azaka on top of me.
She wrestles and pushes me down with surprising force and starts reaching
for the knife in my sleeve.
The girl is a regular temper case. Almost like a wounded, cornered bear
if you threaten her enough to get mad. Words aren’t nearly enough to
make her back down from what she wants, so reluctantly, I take the knife
out of my sleeve and hand it to her only to finish our ridiculous episode on
top of the bed. As soon she gets the knife, she scrambles down from the
top bunk and walks toward her desk, and I remain lying on top of the bed.
“Fucking retard strength. You put a bruise in my arm, you know that?
What the hell do they feed you here, steroids?”
“Just a regular diet of bread and vegetables, thank you,” she says, her
tone mocking. As she hides the knife inside her desk and checks again to
make sure the door is locked, I pull myself up, returning to my previous
sitting position and looking at Azaka’s back. It probably would have been
fine if I’d ended it then and there, but I had to blurt out again.
“I didn’t expect you to be that strong. Should be enough to push Mikiya
down on the bed when you finally do it.” In an instant, Azaka’s face turns
red. Well, I don’t actually know since she has her back turned to me, but
her red ears aren’t painting a flattering picture.
58 • KINOKO NASU
“Wh, wh, wha—” she stammers, swallowing her words. She turns around
to look at me. I knew her face was red. “What the heck did you just say?”
“Nothing. Nothing important to me at least.” She doesn’t rise to the
bait. We stare at each other for a time, me and Azaka’s blushing red face.
When it seems like we’ve heard the clock’s second hand tick for what must
be the hundredth time, Azaka exhales a disappointed sigh and asks.
“So you know?” She seems to hold her breath for the answer.
“It wasn’t me that noticed it first, I can tell you that. No need to worry
though. Mikiya doesn’t know a thing.”
With great relief, Azaka lets go of her breath. It’s true what I said. I didn’t
notice it first. It was Shiki that saw through Azaka the first time they met.
And through him, came to know it as well. If he hadn’t been there,
I don’t think even I would have known about it. She’s so guarded around
Mikiya, and if he’s not around he hardly even talks about him or even so
much as steers the conversation in a direction remotely close to her brother,
except to talk about how bad an influence I am, and so forth.
Refreshing herself and regaining her usual composure, she looks back
at me.
“Aren’t you mad at me, Shiki?” I don’t really get why I should be, but
I’m not, and so shake my head. It only succeeds in making her look more
confused.
Wait, are we still talking about Mikiya? But he’s not my—
—he’s not my what?
I try to put the thing out of my mind, by just asking Azaka the first question
that comes to mind. “You’re siblings, right? Why’re you into that sort
of thing?” Unfortunately, it turns out to be the most landmine filled question
I could spontaneously come up with.
She doesn’t lose her cool, but she does allow her eyes to wander around
the room as she thinks. “It’s because…I like being special. Or more accurately,
I like things that are denied me, things that flirt with the taboo.
Hence, Mikiya. He just doesn’t…he just can’t return what I feel, and maybe
I’m happy being that way. I’m lucky, aren’t I? I’ll always be near the person
I like.”
Inside myself, I’m laughing. Not at her, but my unexpected but seemingly
accurate observation that all the weirdos always seem to have a thing
for Mikiya.
“You’re sick.”
“You’re one to talk!”
The abruptness of both our replies does not escape the notice of either
of us, and for a few seconds, we are silent. But then she smiles, and I smile
/ 4 • 59
as well. And in a wordless agreement, we decide to leave it at that and go
to sleep.
Azaka clearly has something to do to tomorrow relating to the investigation,
since she seems to fall asleep only a minute after hitting the sack. My
nocturnal habits are completely at odds with this school’s curfew though,
so it’s much harder for me to just fall asleep when I feel like it. I stay awake
for a long time, hearing the second hand on Azaka’s wall clock tick two
hours away as I do nothing save for staring at the scenery outside the
window opposite the bed. Now even the few precious lights that glowed
faintly in the campus have all been snuffed out. Beyond the quad, there is
only the deep darkness of Reien’s forest, where the light of the moon can’t
seem to pierce through the canopy of foliage, whose earlier stirrings have
now given way to the eerily thick and unbreakable silence.
As quietly as I can make it, I reach inside my left sleeve. What Azaka
doesn’t know is that I stole two knives from the dining hall. I draw it from
my sleeve and take it out, holding it up above my head such that what little
light from outside can strike off it. I was planning on using this one here,
and the one Azaka got as a display item when I got home. I wish I wouldn’t
have to sully this blade here, but I realize now that it’s a fool’s hope.
“Everyone’s so busy tonight,” I whisper to myself when I return to looking
at the forest outside, only to see numerous faint but wandering lights
flitting around in the darkness of Reien like fireflies. There must be ten
or twenty of them at least. Yesterday night I saw something similar, but
only one or two, and I doubted they were anything except a figment of my
imagination. Now there can be no doubt that they’re the fairies, and their
activity tonight implies something suspicious. Must be because of what
happened to Azaka this afternoon. Now, the mage who’s controlling all
these fairies is forced to speed up her plans.
“You’re gonna get a test drive soon enough,” I murmur as the blade
glints in my hand, letting it catch the dull moonlight from the window. This
will be the last night I spend in Reien, I’m sure. Whatever has to happen,
it’s clear that it has to happen tomorrow.
60 • KINOKO NASU
Records in Oblivion - V
“I don’t know what is so good about this arrangement,” I say.
“There is still a way. There is always a way to mend that which is broken,”
the man answers.
“But can I still be restored?” I ask.
“I can remake things. Make them whole again. The sin is not yours, and
such pure things need not touch that which is unclean. Remain as you are,
and all will be well,” he answers.
“But am I pure? Once, perhaps. But now, I am not so sure.”
“Though you push back the growing darkness in you with your own
hands, those hands are still clear, still contain no taint.” He nods, and laughs
a sweet laugh. “And they must remain as such. Filth like that are a cancer
on this world, and must remove themselves or be excised. It is a mercy to
do so, for such impurities travel with the soul, to one’s line, passed on in a
dynasty of endlessly repeated curses. And so as not to sully you, another
must be used.”
But what will come of it? I cannot answer, and I do not voice the impudent
question to the man.
“Eternity is relentless, and this lingering grief must be retrieved and
returned to you. Though you think it lost to oblivion, the memory repeats
like a record,” he says.
“I have forgotten nothing, least of all that,” I reply.
“The oblivion are thoughts missing in your consciousness, wandering in
the vast wastes of the oneiros. Not forgotten, not lost,” he says flatly.
What, then, explains the gaps in my memory? “I do not understand.
What of the part of me that has been lost?”
“The stirrings and thoughts that orient around your brother,” answers
the man. “Should you wish it, I shall play back that echo of nothingness.”
It was an easy thing to say yes.
***
January 6, Wednesday.
In the past few days, the weather has taken on a predictable pattern,
with gray cloudy mornings and clear nights. This morning proves to be no
different, and it seems resolute to pursue this pattern for a while.
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - V • 61
The first thing I see when I wake up is the clock. “Seven…thirty,” I whisper
groggily. I can’t believe I overslept for an hour. I immediately climb out
of bed and whip myself up into a whirlwind of multi-tasking, taking off my
pajamas, slipping into my uniform, fixing my hair, and finally attempting to
wake up Shiki, still asleep on the top bunk.
I try and try to call her name but it is fruitless; she doesn’t budge an inch.
It’s her fault for sleeping so late after me; and yet despite the fact that she
slept at such an ungodly hour she somehow never found the time to slip
out of the uniform robes and into some sleeping attire. Still, I don’t think
it matters to her really, since she never seems to complain about whether
it’s warm or cool. She grinds her teeth for a few seconds under the blanket
that covers her entirely. How annoying. Otherwise, she sleeps as still as a
statue, and so I write waking Shiki up as a lost cause and give up.
Our objective to observe hasn’t changed. The incident with Misaya Ōji
was an unnecessary encounter, and though we now know who the culprit
is, there’s no need for me and Shiki to go around trying to eliminate or
capture her. Besides, I don’t think Misaya Ōji is still at a dormitory at this
point. When I tried to check up on where she was yesterday, just before
night fell, the answer I got was that she had filed a formal report to leave
the school for winter break that morning. In other words, as far as the
school was concerned, she wasn’t on Reien grounds anymore (though
obviously, at least until our encounter, that was false). If she’s smart, she’ll
follow through on that report and leave, and she won’t try to come into
contact with me or Shiki ever again.
Still, she was driven to accomplish something here, and something tells
me that despite my conciliatory attitude toward her, and the last chance to
withdraw that she gave me, she’ll try again. It’s hard to imagine her showing
up herself and attacking us sometime today, but they do say that third
time’s the charm. Just in case, I grab my magical tool of choice: a glove
made out of salamander skin, used to channel my Art. I tuck it in my pocket
securely and head out of the room.
Outside in the corridor, the temperature is practically freezing, and I find
that I have to keep moving if I want my body to stay warm. I pay a visit to
some of the rooms of the class D students, but most of them are already
out of their rooms. The few individuals I do meet aren’t of any help. Most
of them seem out of it, never meeting your eyes, and like in some kind
of lethargy. I would have believed that they were all taking some kind of
strong narcotic if not for their sudden and ready refusal to talk to me. Their
eyes suddenly take on a glint of mixed fear and disdain. Had Shiki been
with me and been able to keep their boiling hostility in check, it might not
62 • KINOKO NASU
have been so bad. But I don’t think I would have been able to talk to them
like that alone, so that seems like a lost cause as well. I give up trying to talk
to them for now.
I relocate from the dormitories to the main school building, asking some
of the instructors questions, but while they were kind enough to entertain
me, they were all similarly unhelpful. Feeling like I’ve wasted my time,
I head back to the dormitory to my room to regroup and rethink all the
information I already have.
I go in to find Shiki still sleeping persistently. Her eyes twitch for a moment,
and I hope for a second that she’s already waking up. But after a few more
moments of waiting, I realize she’s just in REM sleep. Disappointed, I sit
down on the chair in front of my desk and think.
The information I got from perusing Kaori Tachibana’s infirmary documents
yesterday was enlightening. The fact that class D’s PE consisted
mostly of field trips wasn’t so important. It’s a common enough event in
Reien, and even the school nurse said as much. The useful portion came
when I compared the dates of her physical examinations and the class field
trips.
I don’t know how it goes in other schools, but seeing as its important
medical knowledge in all of Reien’s students, the school keeps a record of
each student’s menstrual cycles. What I found out was that she was able to
go on the class field trip on the time when she’s usually excused from doing
so because of her period, and when I asked the school nurse, she said that
she was certain that Kaori Tachibana had reported a late period. She also
assured me that it was merely stress that was responsible, but that’s only
because she doesn’t know the circumstances surrounding the girl.
Her period being late might only be one part of the story, a conclusion
all too easily reached when she never had the opportunity to have another
one seeing as she died the next month. She might never have had a period
at all in the month of October. The most obvious reason might also be the
answer: pregnancy.
At first, the period doesn’t come, but then the quickening in her stomach
would have felt more real each passing day. From September to November,
she must have driven herself into a corner, mentally speaking. After all, in
Reien Girl’s Academy, getting pregnant seems to be considered a sin quite
above murder. It means that at one point, you willingly exited the school
without permission, went out into town, and for one reason or another,
had sex with someone; a situation that would surely make the Mother
Superior or any of the sisters faint were it told to them. And of course, with
their very strict and conservative Catholic upbringing, I’m fairly sure Kaori
/ RECORDS IN OBLIVION - V • 63
Tachibana’s parents would have never forgiven her.
There was truly no way out for her. An abortion would require her to go
to a hospital, but the doctors would definitely report it to both the school
and her parents. I’m willing to bet she didn’t know any unlicensed or quack
doctors, and would be very hesitant to submit herself to their treatment.
And so she spent those few weeks living like a criminal on death row, scared
everyday of her stomach growing large enough to be noticeable.
If I believe what Misaya Ōji had to say about Tachibana, though, I find
it hard to believe that such a girl who so intensely follows the traditional
No Comments Yet
Post a new comment
Register or Login