Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [89]
Somebody started crying, which set off a few of the other girls. Sniffing could be heard throughout the classroom. A boy looking out of the classroom window shouted, “Hey! It’s a television crew!”
A few students ran over and threw open the windows. They could hear the sound of helicopter blades coming closer. Not one, but several.
Wataru stood. He couldn’t stay here. Not even for another minute.
Everyone was distracted, except Katchan and Sanae.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Home.”
“Home? You can’t…”
“I don’t feel good. I’m going to go talk to the teacher.”
He brushed them aside and walked out of the classroom. His ears were throbbing. Everything seemed muted, like someone had pushed the mute button on the world. He ran down the stairs, then down the hall toward the back entrance to school, taking care to avoid the teachers’ room. Luckily, no one saw him or tried to stop him. They had bigger things to worry about. Wataru went outside, still wearing his school shoes.
In contrast to the heated atmosphere inside, the town looked as normal as ever. The hot summer sun beat down on deserted streets. Wataru didn’t pass anyone on his way out. He ran and ran until he was out of breath, then ran some more until once again, he found himself standing in front of the Daimatsu building.
He looked at the blue tarps covering the haunted building. They hung undisturbed as always, a veil shrouding a secret. A closed lid on a jar.
Wataru lifted one of the tarps as he had many times before, and slid quickly inside. He realized this was the first time he had ever come here during the day. The light shining through the gaps lit the inside rather brightly. The tarps gave little shade—in fact, it felt more like a greenhouse.
For a full thirty seconds, Wataru stood still and held his breath. A drop of sweat trickled down the small of his back. His heart was beating wildly in his throat. He swallowed once, then twice, trying in vain to force it back down into his chest where it belonged.
He saw where he had lain sprawled on the ground the night before.
Where Kenji and his goons had pushed down Mitsuru, where they had kicked him.
And that monster—that’s right! Balbylone, wings of death, daughter of darkness—that horrible thing had been here.
Wataru took a step, walking closer to the place where Balbylone had spread her wings, where she had attacked Kenji and swallowed him whole, where his scream had ended in cold, abrupt silence. He walked like he had irons chained to his ankles, dragging them with every step.
And then he saw it.
A single sneaker lay on its side on the dirt floor—like it had just been taken off and discarded. Wataru crouched down and picked it up. It was white, with blue and yellow stripes. It bore a famous sporting brand logo. It was brand-new.
Kenji’s sneaker.
Wataru screamed silently, and threw the sneaker down. It hit the floor and bounced two or three times until it fell with the laces facing away from him.
He ran.
Ripping up the tarp, he barreled out into the street. He was running so fast he tripped and slammed down onto the concrete. He was startled by the sudden heat of the pavement on his palms.
He had stood up and brushed himself off when he started to cry. Crying wouldn’t do any good—he wasn’t even sure why he was crying, but the tears fell all the same.
Mitsuru—I have to talk to him, to get him to help Kenji. He can’t do what he did, it’s not right. He shouldn’t call on things like that. Maybe it’s not too late…
Tears clouded his eyes, until he could barely see where he was going. He stumbled forward, until he ran into something soft. The soft thing had hands, they were grabbing him.
“What’s this? Something the matter, son?”
It was the priest from the Mihashi Shrine. He was wearing a white kimono and flowing white trousers, like always. His round face looked kind, and his bristly eyebrows, streaked with white, loomed closer.
“You—ah, we met recently, did we not?”
Wataru found he was standing at the entrance to the shrine.