Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [9]
“You’re not going to tell me you’re lost, are you?” Noriyuki said, his face breaking into a smile. “And don’t try to tell me you’re on your way home from cram school, either.”
“Urk,” said Katchan loudly. It was a familiar sound to Wataru. He had always imagined that if you looked “urk” up in the dictionary, it would read something like “urk: 1. A sound Katsumi Komura makes when he’s caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing.”
Still, at least he had managed to say something. Wataru was so flustered he simply opened his mouth and stood there, gaping like a fish. Finally, one thought among the storm of thoughts swirling around his head happened to stray near his tongue, and out it came, launching from his lips like a freshly popped kernel of popcorn.
“I-I’ll call the police!”
The two men jerked back. They looked at each other, then turned their gaze back on Wataru. Next to him, Katchan was standing with his mouth wide open. “Why?” he asked after a beat.
The two men burst out laughing.
“Dad, keep it down,” said Noriyuki, slapping the older man on the shoulder and laughing. “You’ll wake the whole neighborhood.”
“My little sir,” said the father, waving his arm in Wataru’s direction. “There’s no need to fear. We’re not burglars.”
Katchan grabbed Wataru’s arm by the elbow. “Really, it’s okay. I’m pretty sure they’re okay.”
Wataru’s eyes opened wide and he looked at Katchan. His friend’s face gradually broke into a smile. Unable to contain himself, he started to laugh. That was when Wataru realized that it was no longer two versus two, it was three versus one: three people laughing, and one person being laughed at. His face reddened.
“Ah, whoops,” Noriyuki said, suddenly turning to run in the direction his father had come from. “We left Kaori by herself.” There was the sound of a sliding door around the corner again, and moments later, a light brown van came rolling up. It stopped right before the haunted building.
Katchan nodded appreciatively at the sleek paint job. “Cool, new car. Sure is big!” He sounded impressed. “Must’ve cost a fortune!”
Wataru noticed something different about the van. Stenciled on the side in large letters was a sign that read: Daimatsu Properties, Inc. He blinked and looked up at the older man. “You…you’re Saburo Daimatsu!”
The stern man had been wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. Now his mouth tightened, and he looked down at Wataru. From that one look, Wataru knew in an instant that he was right. Here stood none other than the unlucky owner of the haunted building, the man behind Daimatsu Properties, and his son.
The van door opened. There was a faint mechanical noise, and something like a metal arm extended from within the van. Sliding out along the arm came a wheelchair. The wheelchair slid until it was hanging off the side of the car, and then the arm lowered it to the ground.
In the wheelchair sat a girl with slender arms and a slender neck, her hair tied in a ponytail. Her head swayed with the wheelchair’s rocking descent.
“Someone in the neighborhood tell you about me?” asked Mr. Daimatsu. Then, before Wataru could reply, he added, “That’s right, I’m the owner of this building. This is my son, Noriyuki.”
Noriyuki came toward them, pushing the wheelchair. The girl’s head lolled to the side. She didn’t look at Wataru and Katchan, or even her father. Her eyes were open, but they seemed to see nothing.
“And this is my daughter, Kaori,” Mr. Daimatsu said, walking over to the wheelchair and gently patting the shawl covering the girl’s legs. Her hands were hidden beneath the light pink shawl that hid everything from her waist down. If she had reacted to her father’s gesture, none of them saw it.
“So you see, we’re not burglars. Really,” Noriyuki Daimatsu said with a broad smile. From the tone of his voice, Wataru could