Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [18]
Wataru had two uncles on his mother’s side as well, so instead of just talking about his “uncle,” he had to call them all by different names to keep them apart. On his mother’s side, he would call his uncles by the place they lived, like “my uncle in Odawara,” or “my uncle in Itabashi.” But, for some reason, Uncle Satoru never became “my uncle in Chiba.” Wataru had called him Uncle Lou ever since he could remember, and continued to do so to this day, his father’s occasional reprimand notwithstanding.
Uncle Satoru had been calling about a memorial service or some other serious matter. Akira spoke with him at length, and though Wataru wanted to talk to him again when they were finished, he was sent out of the living room to take a bath before that happened.
His mother always said that she looked forward to baths as a time to relax. Most adults never had time alone, she said. Wataru knew it was the same for kids. Something about being in the tub sent the mind wandering places it couldn’t go during the busy day. Tonight, Wataru couldn’t help but think about Kaori Daimatsu—the silent princess in the tower. Had someone locked her up? Or was she hiding?
You’re ripe for finding your first true love!
Uncle Lou’s words played over and over again in his mind until Wataru saw his face redden, reflected in the water of the bath. He slapped at it, destroying the image with a sploosh that sent a wave rolling down the length of the tub.
Chapter 3
The Transfer Student
He came to town just before spring break started-a silly time to transfer to a new school, all the girls agreed, whispering and giggling.
“I hear he’s cute!”
“He gets really good grades.”
“I hear he’s fluent in English!”
“They say his dad worked overseas.”
The did-you-hears spread like wildfire until everyone knew everything there was to know, down to the last detail. But none of it was the sort of thing to make Wataru’s ears prick up with interest.
The new kid wasn’t even going to be in Wataru’s class. This meant Wataru would have to go out of his way to find out anything about him, which meant he probably never would, and that was just fine. He also knew that, until the aura of the “new kid” faded and whoever it was became just another classmate, he could be the most simpleminded rube on the face of the earth, and he would look at least three times better than he really was in the eyes of the class.
With the recent apartment-building boom in Wataru’s neighborhood, there were always lots of people coming and going. Wataru had seen four transfer students join them in his five years at Joto Elementary. He knew how it worked. The chances of the new kid being as incredible as everyone said at first were roughly equivalent to the chances of being struck on the head and killed by a meteorite while walking down the street. It was certainly nothing to get worked up over. Wataru, for his part, was far more interested in rumors of the haunted building. He hadn’t even properly committed to memory the name of the transfer student in the next class.
This was why it took him so long to figure out what they were talking about.
“They say that Mitsuru got a picture of the ghost!”
“Did you see it? Did he show you?”
“I didn’t see it myself, but they say it’s totally clear!”
It had been a week since his run-in with the Daimatsu family. He shuffled into class that morning, stifling a yawn, to find five or six of his classmates huddled in the back of the classroom, buzzing with excitement. It didn’t take long for Wataru to join them. Since that night, when the indelible image of Kaori had been burned into his mind’s eye, his ears would tingle the moment he heard anyone say anything that sounded even remotely like “haunted,” or “ghost.”
“Really? Someone got a picture?” Wataru wedged into the conversation. “When?”
“In the afternoon, two days ago!” one of the girls replied.
“During the day?”
“Yeah, he went there to sketch something for art class.”
Art class often had the