Zaregoto

1. Savant Blue

2. Assembly and Arithmetic

1. The First Decapitation

2. The Tragedy of 0.14

1. The Second Decapitation

2. Lies

3. A Crow’s Wet Feathers

ONE WEEK LATER: Split

EPILOGUE: Crimson Fairy Tale

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 3

Don’t be so edgy.

Relax, okay?

The third morning of our life on Wet Crow’s Feather Island

was just greeting us. I awoke in a daze, trying to distinguish

between the dreams I had just had and the reality yet to come.

The high, rectangular window admitted just a bit of light,

so the room still remained dim. Since the room had no lights,

I would just have to wait for it to get brighter: the sun had

only just risen, and it was maybe around six a.m., judging by

my internal clock. I suspect this way of determining the time

has no more than a fifteen-minute margin of error. But even

supposing I was an hour off, it’s not like it would be a

problem.

“Getting up,” I mumbled, and slowly rose from bed.

The room was mostly empty, its only furnishings a chair

and a futon. Aside from that, it was completely bare. Its high

ceilings gave it an even more spacious feel—and that hollow,

dead atmosphere that evokes so vividly images of solitary

confinement or something. I couldn’t help but feel a little bit

like an inmate on Death Row.

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It was the second time in my life I’d woken up with that

feeling.

But while this was in fact not solitary confinement, neither

was it originally a bedroom. It was formerly a storage space.

When I asked Akari to show me the smallest room in the

mansion, this was where she brought me. The smallest room.

Even so, it was infinitely bigger than my room at the lodging

house. Boy, was that ever depressing.

“Nah… it’s way beyond depressing,” I said to myself.

Now then. I switched my cognitive channel from Death

Row Inmate Mode to Routine Mode.

Wondering what time it really was, I glanced at my

wristwatch, but the LCD screen displayed nothing. Maybe the

batteries had died while I was sleeping. But wait, I’d changed

them just a little while ago. There had to be some other

problem. Well, I could always ask Kunagisa to fix it.

Clearing my sleep-fogged mind, I did a couple of simple

stretches and then left the room. I walked around for a while.

The carpet was thick, bright red, and looked like (and most

probably was) super-high quality. It eventually led to the

spiral case, which is where I bumped into Rei-san and

Akari-san.

“Oh, good morning. You two are up early.” It was only

common courtesy to greet them, but they simply passed by

with no more acknowledgment than a silent head-bow.

“Guess they’re the quiet type,” I muttered to myself.

But to be fair, they were probably working, and I wasn’t

exactly a “guest,” per se, so I just had to live with their

lukewarm response. If I expected anything more out of them,

I’d have to throw my arms out wide and cry out, “How you

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feelin’, my freaky people?!” And, frankly, I just didn’t have the

energy.

Handa Rei-san and Chiga Akari-san were maids employed

at the mansion. Rei-san was the “head maid,” Akari her

subordinate. And there were two other maids at the mansion,

of the same rank as Akari-san. A total of four maids.

Considering who owned the mansion, and the size of the

mansion, it seemed as if a staff of four maids would be too

small. But these women carried out their duties with the

swiftness and skill of true specialists.

The mistress of the mansion, and the person these maids

served, was Akagami Iria. She was the proprietress of the

island, as well as the mansion. And furthermore, she was the

one who had invited me and Kunagisa here.

“But wait, was I actually invited?” I asked myself.

Now just how old was Akari-san? You could tell just by

looking at Rei-san that she was probably in her late twenties.

It’s not easy for kids like me to tell exactly how old a woman

that age is, but that’s definitely the impression I got from her.

Akari-san was the real challenge. I didn’t think she was

younger than me, but still, she looked ridiculously young. She

was one of those women you see downtown who can get away

with paying half-price for everything when they’re actually

adults. As I went up the spiral staircase and headed down the

second-floor hall, my mind tilled with nonsense. Maybe she has

a thing for young guys. Yeah, just babbling.

I was headed for Kunagisa’s room. Two days ago, when we

arrived at the island, a room had of course been prepared for

Kunagisa, but not for me. This was to be expected: even I had

had no idea I would be visiting this weird little island until

that very morning, when Kunagisa called me.

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Akari-san prepared a room for me at the last minute. But

I’d politely refused it. Why? The reason hit me as soon as I

opened the door.

I knocked once, then went ahead and opened it.

The interior was vast. Pure white carpet and pure white

wallpaper complemented pure white furniture. Even I knew

that white reflects light. Kunagisa was crazy about the color

white, so somebody had decorated this room this way

deliberately. In the center of the room was a luxurious sofa

and a wooden table. A chandelier hung from the strangely

high ceiling. The bed was like something straight out of a

movie set in medieval times; it even had a canopy.

“Yeah, I’d never get any sleep here.”

And so I had Akari-san show me to the storage room on

the first floor. Meanwhile Kunagisa, lacking my more delicate

sensibilities, lay there drowsily on her pure white sheets.

Looking at the enormous, antique, mechanical clock on her

wall (also ever-so-thoughtfully selected in white), I saw that it

was, in fact, six o’clock, just as I’d guessed. Pondering what to

do now, I sat on the side of her bed, enjoying the feeling of

the thick, fluffy carpet beneath my feet.

Kunagisa rolled over. Her eyes opened, just slightly.

“Hmm? Oh, Ii-chan?”

Somehow she had sensed it was me, but at any rate she

seemed to be awake. She pushed her mussed, I Hawaiian-blue

hair away from her face and regarded me with sleepy eyes.

“Oh, ahhh, Ii-chan… ummm… You came to wake me up,

didn’t you? Thank you.”

“Actually I came here to tuck you in, but what’s this?

Tomo sleeping at nighttime? That’s pretty rare. Or did you

just get to bed?” If that was the case I’d have to apologize.

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“Uh-uh.” She shook her head.

“I think I slept for three hours. Cuz y’know, yesterday,

well, some stuff happened, Ii-chan. Give me five more

seconds…

“Good morning! Ah, it’s a bright, brisk morning, isn’t it?!”

She sat up, her petite little body popping up. Flashing me an

ear-to-ear grin, she struck a dynamic pose. “Huh? Hey, it’s not

bright out at all. I don’t like this. I like for the sun to be way

high up in the sky when I wake up in the morning.”

“You’re talking about the afternoon.”

“Eh, either way. That was some good sleep.” Ignoring me,

she kept on talking. “I’m pretty sure I got to bed at three a.m.

Some really bad stuff happened yesterday and I just huffed off

to bed. Y’know, cuz sleep is the best thing when you’re

feeling really terrible. It’s like sleep is the one and only gift of

salvation God gave mankind. Now, Ii-chan?”

“Yeah, Tomo?”

“Stay still for a sec.”

Without even giving me time to be confused, she hugged

me. Or to put it more accurately, she draped herself on me,

burdening me with the entirety of her bodyweight. She rested

her tiny head on my right shoulder, with our bodies stuck

together, her slender arms wrapped around my neck.

Squeeze.

Not that she was heavy.

“Uh, Kunagisa?”

“Recharging.”

Evidently she was recharging. Thus, no moving allowed. I

gave up on the idea of resistance and supported her weight.

But hey, what was I, an electrical outlet or something?

Looking at Kunagisa, I noticed she had slept with her coat

on. As far as I knew, she wore it all the time, indoors and

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outdoors, summer and winter. A jet-black men’s coat. On a

girl of Kunagisa’s tiny stature, the large-sized coat easily

touched the floor. But she seemed to be madly in love with it

anyway. I had told her millions of times to at least take it off

when she’s sleeping, but to no avail.

One thing was for sure: Kunagisa Tomo did things her own

way. In that sense, she was kind of like me.

“Okay, thanks!” she said, and finally let go of me. “Battery

full! Now, let’s go face another day.”

With a grunt she rose from bed, blue hair bouncing. She

walked over to the computers by the window opposite her

bed. They were the three computers she had brought from

her home in Shirosaki. All three were tower models. The two

on the left and right were of typical size, the one in the middle

was exceptionally large. They were all white, of course. I just

didn’t get why she was so into a color that was so easy to get

dirty.

The three computers were on a U-shaped rack, with a

cushiony rolling chair in the center. Kunagisa plopped down

in the chair and leaned back. That way she could

simultaneously control all three computers. But no matter

how you counted it up, she still had only two hands. Why she

would ever think to use three keyboards at the same time was

beyond me.

I looked over her shoulder. The three keyboards were

neither ASCII nor JIS nor Oasis, but instead some weird,

mysterious key alignment. But to question the unnaturalness

of it would be futile. For an engineering whiz like Kunagisa

Tomo, designing a keyboard from scratch was probably like a

walk in the park.

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Incidentally, Kunagisa didn’t use a mouse. Because “they’re

a total waste of time,” she would say. But to a novice like me,

the sight of a mouseless computer was unnerving, just totally

impossible to get used to. Not that that’s the worst feeling in

the world.

“Ii-chan.”

“Yeah?”

“Tie my hair up.”

Got it. I went up to her chair. I slipped some hair bands off

her arm and tied her hair into two braids.

“Man, wash your hair already. My fingers are getting oily

here.”

“I hate taking baths. Cuz y’know, your hair gets all wet and

stuff.”

“Well, of course. Look at this, the blue is getting dark.”

“I can’t see my own head. Hehehe, if I leave it like it is, it’ll

turn ultramarine. Thank you, Ii-chan,” she said, biting her

lower lip with a giggle. I just looked back at her with an

innocent, confused smile.

“Uh, no problem, really.”

Even as we talked, her fingers never stopped moving. They

moved with the accuracy of a machine at a constant rhythm

with every keystroke. Her movements flowed so smoothly it

was as if she were unconsciously tarrying out some preplanned

assignment in some preprogrammed way. Incomprehensible

English characters and numbers streamed along on all three

monitor displays at an unbelievable pace.

“Tomo, what are you up to, anyway? You just got up.”

“Mmm, well, I don’t think you’d get it even if I told you.”

“Hmm. You really need all three PCs to do it?” I said.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 0

She gave me a perplexed look. “Ii-chan, this one in the

middle isn’t a PC, it’s a workstation,” she said.

“What’s a workstation? It’s not a PC?”

“Nope, it’s different. Well, I guess PCs and workstations

are similar in that they’re both intended for individual use,

but, it’s like, workstations are way more top-of-the-line.”

“Ah, so a workstation is like a super-good PC?” I said,

openly displaying my ignorance.

She groaned. “Ii-chan, a PC is a PC and a workstation is a

workstation. They’re both GPCs, but think of them as two

completely different things.”

“What’s a GPC?”

She looked at me as if I were some kind of a caveman. “Iichan,

you don’t know anything, do you?” she said with a

touch of disbelief. “What exactly were you doing in Houston

those five years?”

“Other things.”

She sighed. “Okay, okay,” she said, tilting her head. Then

she resumed her work as if a switch had been toggled in her

brain. Letters and numbers that looked like hocus-pocus to

me continued to stream by on the displays.

I wanted her to tell me a little more about the different

classifications or what have you, but I’m not really that

intellectually curious. Besides, it would be rude to interrupt

whatever she was working on. That, and, for an “outsider” like

me to try to follow this nerdy cupcake’s explanations seemed

as if it would just lead to a headache, so with that I ended the

discussion. I massaged her shoulders for a bit, then decided to

borrow her sink, where I washed my face and changed my

clothes.

“Hey, Tomo, I’m gonna go for a walk.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 1

Without looking up from her work, she gave me a

halfhearted wave. The other hand kept on tapping keys. I

shrugged and left the room.

I’d be lying if I said I knew all that much about the Akagami

Foundation. They’re not exactly the most well-publicized

organization in the world. Plus, since they mostly operated out

of the Kanto region, someone like me who was born in Kobe,

grew up in Houston, Texas, and lived in Kyoto wouldn’t know

that much about them.

Putting it simply, the Akagami mansion was the home to a

storied legacy of business barons. That business might have

been some kind of trade, or a system in which money just

poured in on its own. I’m not sure what exactly it is that they

did, but whatever it was, one thing was for sure: the Akagami

Foundation was loaded.

Holding property not just in Japan but all over the world,

the Akagami Foundation was the owner of Wet Crow’s

Feather Island as well. And the owner of the Western-style

mansion found in the center of the island was none other than

Akagami Iria.

As you might guess from her name, Iria was related to the

head of the Akagami Foundation—his granddaughter, in fact.

She was a born-and-bred pedigreed princess, for whom no

obsequious praise was too obsequious. Over time, she had

inherited vast amounts of enormous wealth and unbelievable

power and ruled over a great many underlings. But then, the

head of the Foundation himself had completely cut her off. So

maybe this is all really better expressed in the past tense.

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Cut off.

I don’t know what she did to deserve it, but it must have

been something big.

Supposedly she was permanently removed from the family

five years ago, at the age of sixteen. At that time, the head of

the family left her with a small severance package (which was

probably still an unimaginable sum to a regular Joe like me)

and this island, floating around in the Sea of Japan.

In other words, she had been exiled.

Maybe these days that seems old-fashioned. But far be it

for me to butt into other people’s ways of doing things.

Especially if those people belong to a powerful institution

that’s practically its own world in and of itself.

Anyway, Iria had spent the last five years here with her

four maids, not once setting foot off the island. Five years on

this godforsaken island in the middle of nowhere, with no

amusements, no nothing. In a sense, it was life in Hell, though

I would speculate that, in a different sense, it was also a little

like life in Heaven.

But was Iria-san lonely or bored? Indeed, you could say

Kunagisa had been invited to the island to stave off Iria’s

boredom. But it wasn’t just Kunagisa. In the same way, it

would be no exaggeration to say that Akane-san, Maki-san,

Yayoi-san, and Kanami-san had all been brought here for the

same purpose.

Well, okay, maybe it’s a little bit of an exaggeration.

So, anyway, forbidden to leave the island, Iria-san said,

“Well, if that’s how it is,” and proceeded to invite, as her

guests, the world’s most prominent figures.

Now, it “prominent figures” sounds a little weird, let me

try putting it another way. Iria had decided to invite so-called

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geniuses to her mansion. It was a simple plan: “If I can’t go to

them, they can come to me.”

Famous and unknown alike, all those who possessed

genuine talent and amazing skill were summoned by Iria-san,

one after another after another. And, of course, all expenses,

including accommodations, were covered by Iria-san. In fact,

visitors to the island were often given money, so it was pretty

much always a win-win situation for them.

To me, it seemed like Iria-san was going for that whole

ancient Greek salon image, collecting and cavorting with all

these artists and geniuses—and thereby living a fruitful life. To

be sure, it wasn’t the most typical idea around, but yes, there

was something amazing about it. Aside from the mansion and

the forest, the island was essentially empty—almost a desert

island—and for those world-weary men and women of talent

who needed to rest both the body and the mind, it was the

perfect place. And thus had Iria-san’s plan been a tremendous

success.

Now then.

Walking around aimlessly on this empty island, basking in

the forest, it was by an extremely distant cherry blossom tree

that I suddenly ran into Shinya-san.

“Oh, er, that is, I mean,” Shinya-san said, waving a hand to

greet me. “You’re quite the early bird there, eh? Mister… er,

what was your name again? Sorry, my memory’s a little weak,

y’see.”

He had a good four inches on me, and his designer clothes

were much better than mine. His expression was mildmannered,

his way of speaking was mild-mannered, and so

was, somehow, his clothing and stature, but whether or not

Shinya-san really was mild-mannered, I couldn’t say. I don’t

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have the skill to judge someone just based on their

appearance, and I’m the last person to jump to conclusions

after knowing someone for just a couple of days.

“I don’t believe I ever told you,” I answered with a shrug.

“I’m just Kunagisa Tomo’s sidekick. No need for a sidekick to

have a name, am I right?”

“That’s awfully modest of you. Not that it’s any wonder,

being on this island, but speaking of sidekicks, I suppose I’m in

the same boat as you,” Shinya-san said and smirked.

Yes, Shinya-san and I were no more than tagalongs. It

probably goes without saying at this point, but I wasn’t here

walking around on this island because I was any kind of

genius. Kunagisa Tomo was the “genius” here, and I was

nothing more than her attendant. If she hadn’t said to me, “Iichan,

it turns out I’ll be going to some island, so come with

me, ‘kay?” right about now I would’ve been in my Kyoto fourtatami-sized

room getting ready for school.

No question about it: the main character here is Kunagisa

Tomo. Let’s just make that clear.

Now then, as for who Shinya-san was accompanying, well,

she was right under the cherry blossom tree. With those

thoughtful, thoughtless eyes, she gazed at the fluttering cherry

blossom petals.

She had blue eyes and hair of gold. Her dress, pale in color,

was out of some French movie, and was accented with

dazzling jewelry. Just one of her necklaces or bracelets was

likely worth more than my liver. Even if I sold off every part

of my body I still couldn’t pay for it.

Ibuki Kanami. One of the geniuses.

Having, supposedly, suffered problems with her legs from

birth, she was confined to a wheelchair. And thus Shinya-san,

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as her caretaker, had tagged along on the trip. As I’d heard it,

until a few years ago, she had also been totally blind. Her blue

eyes were not a sign of foreign blood.

Kanami-san was a painter.

Even I, without the slightest knowledge of that field

whatsoever, had heard of her. She had earned a reputation as

a painter who possessed no single style. I had never actually

seen any of Kanami-san’s paintings, but I thought that maybe

she was gazing at the cherry blossoms in that way so as to later

portray them on canvas.

“What’s she doing?”

“As you can see, she’s watching the cherry blossoms. It

won’t be long before the petals start falling. She has a

fondness for that ‘moment just before death,’ if you will, the

ephemeral things in life.”

Most of the trees on the island were just your standard

fare, but for some reason, there was one cherry blossom tree.

It looked quite old, and the fact that there was only one on

the whole island was nothing short of bizarre. Most likely,

Iria-san had transplanted it here.

“So they say dead bodies are buried under cherry blossom

trees, eh?”

“How dreadful.”

Ouch.

I was just trying to make conversation, but instead ended it

in one fell swoop. of course, it was pretty dreadful.

“Just joking,” Shinya-san laughed.

“Personally, I think it would make more sense if that

legend was about a plum tree. But then I guess it wouldn’t be

a legend, but a myth? Hahaha!”

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“By the way, boy, have you gotten accustomed to the

island yet? This is your third day here, right? Um, how long

were you planning to stay again?”

“A week. So we have another few days.”

“Mmm, that’s too bad,” he said, with a tinge of mystery.

“What’s too bad?”

“Oh, it’s just that I hear Iria-san’s favorite will be coming

here in a week. But if you’re leaving in four days, you’ll just

miss each other, won’t you? That’s just too bad.”

“Oh, I see.” I nodded and thought about it for a moment.

Iria-san’s “favorite.”

In other words, the genius of geniuses.

“A chef, a fortune-teller, a scholar, an artist, and an

engineer. What could be next?”

“Well, I haven’t heard any specifics myself, but apparently

this person is capable of just about anything. Not a ‘specialist,’

but a ‘generalist.’ Hikari-san tells me this person is as sharp as

a tack and full of knowledge, and has lightning reflexes.”

Hmm. Yet another totally amazing person. Let’s assume it

was just some ridiculously over-the-top rumor. The fact that

such a rumor even existed suggested that this particular genius

wasn’t just anyone. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued.

“Couldn’t hurt to meet this person, I guess. What do you

say to asking for an extension on your visit? I’m sure Iria-san

would more than welcome you.”

“Sounds nice and all, but…” I probably looked less than

excited. “To be honest, this island is a little stifling. For a

regular kid like me, I mean,” I said.

Shinya-san guffawed boisterously. “Now, now. Now, now,

now, now, now there, lad. Is that how it is? Kanami-san and

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Akane-san and all of them haven’t given you a complex, have

they?”

A complex. Even supposing it wasn’t something you could

put so bluntly, what I felt was certainly something similar.

Shinya-san gave me a firm pat on the shoulder.

“There’s no reason to feel inferior to that lot, right? Let’s

keep it together, brother! Whether it be Kanami-san…”

Kanami-san glanced up from under the cherry blossom tree.

“Whether it be Akane-san, Yayoi-san, or even Kunagisa-chan,

if they were to play the two of us in rock-paper-scissors, they

would only win one out of three times. I suppose Maki-san

would be an exception there, but nevertheless.”

“That’s a pretty blunt way to put it.”

Not to mention Shinya-san had just referred to his own

employer as part of “that lot.” I’m not saying they were at each

other’s throats or anything, but maybe Shinya-san and

Kanami-san weren’t quite the best of friends.

“Talent isn’t such a big deal. In fact, I, for one, am glad I

don’t have any. Talent isn’t worth spit.”

“Why’s that?”

“If you’ve got a talent, you’ve got to exert effort. Being

ordinary is a breeze. Having nothing to master is an advantage,

if you ask me,” Shinya-san said with a cynical shrug. “I think

we got a little off-topic. Anyway, I don’t think it would be a

terrible thing if you were able to extend your stay, if you ask

me. And hey, just maybe this ‘generalist’ will beat us in rockpaper-scissors

all three times.”

“Well, I’ll talk it over with Kunagisa… It would hardly be

right for the tagalong to decide something like this on his

own.”

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“I thought so,” he said. “You’re a lot like me,” he said,

looking me in the eye.

His gaze was deeply disconcerting. It gave me that

uncomfortable feeling you get when you’re being watched.

“Me and you? Alike? How do you mean? In what way?”

“Don’t sound so happy about it. In particular, you’re

practically identical in holding the idea that you yourself are a

part of the world.”

Seemingly with no intention of explaining himself any

further, he broke his gaze and looked back at Kanami-san.

Predictably, Kanami-san was still staring at the cherry

blossoms with complete concentration. She was surrounded

by a sort of transcendence, as if just that one spot was isolated

from the rest of the world. She had the air of being

unapproachable, even sacred.

“So Kanami-san’s been painting even since coming here?”

“Well, it’s more like she came to this island to paint. That’s

really all she does, after all. I suppose you could say she lives

to paint. Can you believe it?” He spoke with a tinge of

frustration, but if you took his words at face value, it sounded

like an incredibly enviable existence; a life where what you

want to do and what you have to do are directly connected. It

was a way of life I could never even hope for. I, who had

discovered neither what I wanted nor what I had to do.

I noticed that Shinya-san was watching me with a wicked

smile, like he had just remembered a bad prank. I recoiled a

little. I was getting a bad feeling, like a premonition. And then

Shinya-san, with a look on his face as if to say, “I’ve just had a

revelation from God,” clapped his hands deliberately.

“That’s right! It’s such a prime opportunity, so why don’t

you try modeling?” He set me aside as I stood at a loss for

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words and unable to comprehend his, and faced Kanami-san.

“Hey!” he called. “Kanami! This fella here says he wants to be

your model!”

“Wait, Shinya-san!” Finally grasping the situation, I spun in

front of him. “I can’t just, I mean, give me a break!”

“Now, now, why are you so embarrassed? That hardly suits

your character.”

I don’t think so. Asking Kanami-san to paint me? That was

an incredibly intimidating idea. But Shinya-san blew off my

protest with a simple “Now, now, don’t be shy,” and waited

for an answer from Kanami-san.

Kanami-san adjusted the direction of her wheelchair and

took a look at me. She scanned me up and down, from the tip

of my head to the tips of my feet, observing me, assessing me,

and said, “So you want me to paint you?” She sounded truly

irritated.

This was a difficult question to answer. With someone as

talented as Kanami-san, the simple act of hesitating would

have been rude. I was weak in these situations. A real

pushover. A nineteen-year-old boy who’s spent his life going

with the flow has not the power to alter the flow of a tale.

“Yes, absolutely, if you don’t mind,” I said.

Kanami-san simply looked disinterested. “Fine then. Come

by the atelier this afternoon.” she said, and swiveled her

wheelchair back toward the cherry blossoms. She spoke with

heartfelt apathy, but at least she had taken pity on me.

“Well, that’s settled then. Are you free this afternoon?”

Shinya-san said, strangely joyful.

I told him I was free and decided to get going before I got

into any more trouble.

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I returned to the mansion and visited Kunagisa’s room once

again. Kunagisa was just as I had left her, sitting in her

revolving chair, her three PCs (I mean, two PCs and one

workstation) in front of her. Right now she was focused on the

workstation, and the two PCs had their power switched off.

“What were you up to, Tomo?”

No reply.

I went up to her from behind and tugged both her braids.

“Oww,” she uttered in a strange voice, seeming to at last

notice my presence. Without changing her position, she gaped

at me in bewilderment. Surely I appeared upside down in her

eyes.

“Yooo, Ii-chan. You’re back from your walk.”

“Yeah, well… Say, is that a Mac?”

The monitor on the workstation opposite Kunagisa was

displaying some kind of Mac OS screen. As far as I had heard,

Mac OS only worked on Macs.

“Yeah, it’s Mac OS. Y’see, there are some applications that

only run on Mac OS, so I’m running it on a virtual machine.”

“Virtual machine?”

“Basically I’m making the workstation think there’s a Mac

inside it. In other words, I’m tricking the software. Of course

Windows is in here, too. Most OS’s are installed on this

workstation, so it can do anything.”

“Ah…”

I didn’t really get it.

“This is a dumb question, but how are Mac and Windows

different, anyway?”

She gave my truly amateurish question a moment’s

thought. “They’re different because different people use

them,” she answered, with an air of precision.

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“Well, yeah, that’s true, but… Well, forget about that. So

an OS is like the core software, right? I think that’s right. So

then it’s like this computer has multiple personalities?”

“It’s a strange metaphor, but you could say that.”

“So then that PC, er, workstation, what’s its core core OS?

Like with multiple personalities you have a ‘main’ personality,

right?”

“Geocide.”

“Never heard of that. Is it like Unix?”

“That’s Unix, with a ‘yoo’ sound. Come on, you studied

abroad; you should know not to pronounce the alphabet like

Romanized Japanese, Ii-chan. It makes you sound so stupid.

Uh, well, it is compatible with Unix. But it’s an original OS

developed by a friend of yours truly.

“A friend…”

Kunagisa’s friend. The only friend of Kunagisa’s who

could’ve developed an original operating system was someone

from that “team.” From that notorious “team.”

Several years back, in the last century, during the time

when the Japanese network was still underdeveloped, that

group appeared. Or, no, “appeared” isn’t the correct

expression.

They never for an instant let their visage, nor their shadow,

nor even their smell grace the public eye. They never

announced their name; whatever name they had ever been

known by had been applied by others. Whether you called

them a virtual club, cyberterrorists, a crack unit, or a gang that

made mountains out of molehills, it didn’t matter to them,

and they probably wouldn’t respond.

They were completely peerless, species unknown. How

many people were there, and just what types of people

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comprised this “team”? These things were all shrouded in

mystery.

And what did they do?

Everything.

They did everything, that was all you could say about it.

They did so much of everything, there was nothing they didn’t

do. They wreaked havoc, havoc, and more havoc. I wasn’t in

Japan at the time, so I didn’t get to see it firsthand, but they

say it was such full-on, ludicrous havoc that it was practically

refreshing, lending no hint as to their motives or aims.

Beginning with pure hacking and cracking, they also had their

hands in corporate advising and fixer fraud. It’s also quietly

speculated that, back then, they controlled a number of large

corporations.

But you couldn’t say they existed solely as a nuisance. For

better or worse, it was thanks to them that the overall level of

network technology improved drastically. You could even say

they forced it. If you looked at it through a fine-toothed

comb, sure there were losses, but in the big picture, the gains

outweighed them tenfold.

But, of course, the fat cats upstairs saw them as little more

than pesky, law-breaking criminals, a hacking, cracking

eyesore. Thus the “team” went on, despised and pursued. But

they were never caught, and exactly what they were doing

was never brought to light. Then, sometime last year,

suddenly and without anything in particular having happened,

they were never heard from again. It was as though they had

just burned out and vanished.

“Yo, what’s wrong, Ii-chan? You’re quiet all of a sudden.”

“Nah… nothing.”

She flipped her hair with a giggle.

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“Yeah, I guess it’s nothing…”

It was in that way that the “team” met what was, in a

sense, an anticlimactic end. Who would believe the leader of

that now-defunct team was this happy-go-lucky girl still in her

teens? Exactly who in their right mind would believe

something so nonsensical that it couldn’t even be mistaken for

a sick joke?

But if that wasn’t the case, Kunagisa wouldn’t have been

invited to this genius-ridden island. Not as a communication

and systems engineering specialist.

“How could I not have a complex, Shinya-san?”

“Huh? Did you say something?” Kunagisa glanced up at me

for a moment.

“Just babbling,” I said. “So ‘Geocide,’ doesn’t that mean

‘Earth murder’?”

“Yup. Of all the existing OS’s, it’s probably the most

awesome. Geocide is number one. Even the RASIS is perfect.”

“Sometimes I think you use those big words just to tick me

off. What’s a RASIS?”

“It’s an acronym for reliability, availability, serviceability,

integrity, security. But of course, that’s in English,” she said a

bit irritably.

“Basically it means stability. Of course it requires a highperformance

system, but it won’t cause errors or anything like

that. Man, that Atchan really is a genius. Hehehe.”

“Atchan, huh? Sounds like you two are pretty close.”

“Hmm? Jealous? Hmm? Hmm?” she said with a strangely

pleased tone and naughty smirk. “It’s okay. I like you best of

all.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 2 4

“Ah, right. ‘Preciate that.” I shrugged and tried to change

the subject. “But if it’s such an amazing OS, why not market

it? If it sold like Windows, you’d make a fortune.”

“No can do. You know about increasing returns, right?

With an OS this different, we’d never catch up. Business goes

beyond skill or talent.”

Increasing returns. The law of economics that states “the

more you have, the more you get,” which does nothing for

what you don’t have. It had been awhile since I’d studied it, so

I didn’t remember it very clearly, but to put it simply, “once a

significantly problematic difference has appeared, it is

impossible to bury that difference.” Whether it be in regards

to skill or money, it seemed to make no difference.

“Besides, Atchan was satisfied just by creating Geocide.

Atchan’s a very self-satisfied person.”

“Hey, yeah, must be very happy.”

“Even if that wasn’t the case, I don’t think it would be

possible to market it. Even though it’s just core software, it

requires some pretty outrageous specs. Seriously astronomical

figures. Even my machine just barely cuts it.”

“Hmm. How many gigs is your hard disk? About a

hundred?”

“One hundred tera.”

Different unit.

“Tera… that’s the opposite of pico, so… a thousand times a

gig?”

“Nope, 1,024 times.”

Nitpicky chick.

“Man, I’ve never seen a hard disk like that.”

“To be specific, it’s not a hard disk; it’s holographic

memory. Unlike hard disks, which record data with magnets,

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 2 5

this records data onto a surface. It’s capable of one tera per

second rapid transfer. What you’d find on the market is, well,

quite a bit slower. This is the kind of media they’re using in

the development of space technology.”

She had those kinds of connections, too?

She belonged to an altogether dubious community.

“Of course, this goes for the machine’s capacity as well,

but if the motherboard specs aren’t customized home brew as

well, you’re probably out of luck. Atchan just makes things

without considering any of the surrounding circumstances,

y’see. So they just end up like this. He doesn’t try to suit

things to other people.”

“Motherboard home brew? There are people who do that?”

“Like yours truly, for one.” She indicated herself with her

thumb.

That’s right. She was an engineer, after all. She must’ve

been the culprit providing her “teammates” with the hardware

and software that were to be their main “weapons.” If you

thought about it, it was fairly disturbing. It was one thing to

develop a seemingly unmarketable OS like that, but to take it

and build your own motherboard for it was just plain freakish.

“Mr. Earth Murder aside, haven’t you ever considered

selling this stuff? Like that motherboard you’re so proud of?”

“I’m the self-satisfied type, too How ‘bout you, Ii-chan?”

“Hmm, I wonder.”

Regardless of talent or lack thereof, in the end all people

are classified into two groups: those who pursue and those

who create. My own case notwithstanding, Kunagisa was

overwhelmingly the latter.

“Besides, as far as money is concerned, I’ve got plenty and

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 2 6

then some. I’m not thinking about making any more right

now.”

“Ah, no wonder.”

That was true. Kunagisa wasn’t in a position that

demanded she immediately go into business. It wouldn’t be

much of an exaggeration to say she spent money like it was

water. A nineteen-year-old occupying a high-class, two-floor

condo in Shirosaki and spending money as fast as she could. I

didn’t know how many people out there had more money

than Kunagisa, but surely no one individual spent as much.

Between the Akagami Foundation and the Kunagisa

household, who held the greater power was beyond my realm

of knowledge, but either way, they both possessed enough of a

fortune to enjoy the best things in life and still get change

back, that much was certain.

Speaking of which, Kunagisa resembled the master of this

island, Iria, in that she, too, was semi-exiled from her family.

Perhaps they were similar people. In the three days I had

spent on the island, signs indeed pointed to the contrary, but,

well, they were both eccentric, that was for sure. So much so

that it would have been impossible for them to blend into any

group or be members of any organization.

Surely that’s how it was.

In which case, this island…

The meaning of this so-called island of wet crow’s

feathers…

Kunagisa returned to her typing.

“I’m gonna go have breakfast. What about you?”

“No, thanks. Not hungry. It’s mating season. Ii-chan, go

ahead on your own. Eat for me, too.”

Gotcha, I said, and headed for the dining room.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 2 7

Akane-san was in the dining room.

I tensed up.

She sat alone at the round dining table with her legs

crossed in an elegant, somehow un-Japanese pose, having her

breakfast. Or no, she had already finished breakfast and was

enjoying an after-meal coffee.

“Oh! Good morning!” It was the bright and lively voice of

Akari-san in the midst of cleaning the dining room. No, wait,

it wasn’t her. Akari-san never greeted me bright and lively.

That wasn’t the Akari-san I knew. Which meant…

“Hi, Hikari-san,” I said, determining that it was Hikari-san.

Evidently I was correct, as she then grinned at me and bowed.

Chiga Akari-san and Chiga Hikari-san.

They were sisters. Twins. To be sure, there was a third

sister as well, their silent younger sister Teruko. Teruko

apparently had poor eyesight and was recognizable by her

glasses with their black lenses. Akari-san and Hikari-san,

however, were perfectly identical, from the length of their

hair to their clothes, to the point that they weren’t just

“similar,” they were the same.

But unlike Akari-san, Hikari-san was an incredibly kind

person. Even though I wasn’t a true “guest,” she treated me

the same as everyone else.

“Breakfast? Wait one moment, please,” she said, then spun

around and hustled off to the kitchen. She must be so good at

spinning because she’s small, I thought.

With Hikari-san gone, I was suddenly left alone with

Akane-san.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 2 8

After a split-second’s hesitation, I went ahead and took a

seat near her. I thought to greet her, but she seemed

completely immersed in thought, mumbling to herself in a

semi-audible voice, not even looking in my direction. It was as

though she hadn’t noticed me. What in the world was she

thinking about? I pricked my ears to listen in.

“Sente 9-6, pawn… Kote 8-4, pawn… Sente, same pawn…

Kote 8-7, pawn… Sente 8-4, rook… Kote 2-6, pawn… Sente

3-2, silver general… Kote 9-5, pawn… Sente 4-4, bishop…

Kote 5-9, gold general, take… Sente 2-7, knight…”

Meaning unknown.

That’s what you get from one of the Seven Fools; even the

things they mutter to themselves are different, I thought,

thoroughly impressed. But listening closely, it sounded like

she was reciting a shogi game record. Wow, blind shogi.

And by herself, no less.

Is this what she always did in the morning?

“Kote 2-3, pawn, checkmate, Sente forfeits,” she said, and

glanced over at me. “Ah, I was wondering who that was, and

here it turned out to be you. Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Heh heh. Isn’t shogi tough? The pieces move around a lot

more than in chess. I was playing Kote just now. It was a close

victory.”

“Huh.”

There’s a Sente and Kote in single-player shogi? Maybe

Akane-san was able to divide her mind like a dolphin. Yeah, it

seemed likely for someone like her.

“Are you good at shogi, or chess, whichever?”

“I wouldn’t say so, no.”

“Hmm, is that so?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 2 9

“Reading other people’s minds isn’t my forte.”

“Oh no? Hmm, I suppose not. You’ve got that kind of

face,” she nodded. “I saw you from the window a little earlier.

Out for a morning walk, were you?”

“Yeah, a walk in the woods.”

“Ah, a walk in the woods, how nice. Very nice. The

phytoncide released by the trees creates a bactericidal effect

and such.”

What the hell?

In Houston, Texas, in America, there’s a research facility

called the ER3 System. There, brilliant minds from around

America, nay, around the world, gather, and it is referred to as

the ultimate bastion of learning, from economics to history,

political science to cultural science, physics and advanced

mathematics to biology, electronic and systems engineering,

metapsychology, indeed, anything that could be called a field

of study or research.

It’s also known as the Comprehensive Research Center. It

was a gathering place for those who loved learning and

research above all else. A nest for those inhuman humans

whose desire for knowledge exceeded even their natural,

biological desires. An entirely nonprofit organization, they

dared not sell their knowledge or research findings, and they

were in a sense a closed and introverted sort of secretive

organization.

There were only four basic rules:

Have no pride.

Have no principles.

Have no attachments.

No whining.

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They were to unbegrudgingly cooperate with one another

to the fullest of their ability, to never be unproductive, even if

the world should perish, and to never quit halfway, come Hell

or high water.

The ultimate destination for those who wanted to do

research, who wanted to know, who had to know, with means

and end in complete harmony, it was the ER3 System. The

people gathered there ranged from highly esteemed college

professors to “frontline” researchers and amateur academics, a

truly pride-free assembly of all manner of individuals. Their

reputation was seemingly so bizarre that the media ridiculed

them as a “cultish pack of overeducated loonies.”

But their research had yielded great rewards: the

demystification of Dalevio nonlinear optics, the overwhelming

advancement of volume hologram technology, and the

establishment of the near-magical DOP as a sensory

technology were all thanks to the ER3. Not the work of

individuals, but rather team efforts, and nonprofit work at

that, they declined all awards and other various honors, and

thus had not come to draw much attention, but their

reputation within the academic world was certainly high. It

was a research center with a relatively brief history—not even

a century old— but it was already globally networked.

And within this research center existed the transcendental

group known as the Seven Fools. Seven individuals selected in

turn by the selected “seven on the verge of the answers to the

universe.” They were the true “geniuses among geniuses.”

One of these seven individuals was Sonoyama Akane-san.

She had beautiful black hair, cut ruler-precise to lend her

an air of intellectualism. She was tall for a woman, with a

stylishly slender build. There was no part of her that wasn’t

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 3 1

overflowing with elegant femininity. She was a Japanese

woman scholar of the highest order.

The ER3 System is relatively unknown in Japan. The fact

that the ER3 itself is so exclusive is no doubt part of the

reason for this, but the main reason is likely that the

uncategorizable nature of the center doesn’t fit with the

Japanese way of doing things. But nevertheless, Akane-san

had, as a pure and innocent Japanese woman (and in her

twenties, no less) risen to the ranks of the ER3’s Seven Fools.

It would come as no surprise if one day she was a household

name in Japan.

Now, this may all beg the question: if I’m just a “pure and

innocent” Japanese person, too, how come I know so much?

But there’s no special reason, really. It’s not that I’m

particularly well informed, it’s just that the ER3 and I have

crossed paths a bit.

You see, in preparation for the long-term, ER3 System

implements a study-abroad program to educate the youth of

the next generation. For five years, beginning with my second

year of junior high school, I participated in that program, so

naturally I knew of Sonoyama Akane’s reputation as one of

the Seven Fools, as well as her “above the clouds” existence.

And that’s why I was so surprised to discover Akane-san here

on this island. I’m not at all the type who surrenders

unconditionally at the first sniff of authority or talent, but I

can’t help but be nervous. What exactly do you say to one of

the Seven Fools?

I was sitting there, all clammed up, when Akane spoke to

me. “By the way, that blue-haired girl—Kunagisa-chan, I

mean.”

“Ah. Yes?”

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“She’s just lovely. Last night I had her do some

maintenance on my PC. She’s incredibly skilled, isn’t she? We

have techies at ER3 as well, but I’ve never seen one with

such… mechanical precision. She made it look like routine

work. This may sound rude, but for a moment I wondered if

she was really human. I was sure Iria-san would absolutely

adore her.”

“Ah, really? I hope she wasn’t a bother or anything.”

She let out a chuckle. “You sound like a baby stroller.”

A baby stroller. Once again I had suffered an unfounded

assessment. “You mean a babysitter?”

“Well, they both mean the same thing, yes?”

“A stroller is a kind of carriage.”

“Ah, right,” she nodded.

For all her evident ability in math and science, it seemed

Japanese was not Akane-san’s forte.

“Well, either way. She was no bother at all.”

Well, duh.

“Then again, she seemed a bit of the socially awkward

type. I don’t think she listens when people are talking. And as

a result, my PC evolved about two generations.”

“But that’s actually the improved Kunagisa. She used to be

terrible to talk to. Just starting and stopping whenever she felt

like it. It was pretty rough for me.”

“Hmm. If you want my opinion, I think there’s a certain

charm to her unapologeticness.”

“Eh, I’m not sure I agree on that.”

“Have it your way.” Akane-san shrugged. “By the way, I

also heard from her that you were in the ER program.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 3 3

“Huh.” That blabbermouth had let the cat out of the bag! I

thought I told her to keep that quiet. Not that I wasn’t fully

aware there’s no point trying to keep that girl quiet.

“You should’ve told me. We could’ve had quite a chat. I

feel as if we’ve wasted two days. I don’t suppose you were

holding back by any chance? Please don’t get me wrong, I’m

not such a big deal.”

“No, it’s not that… I guess it was just hard to bring up.

And also, even though I was in the program, I quit midway

through.”

The program is a ten-year study. I dropped out after my

fifth year. From there I returned to Japan and reunited with

Kunagisa. Luckily I was already qualified as a high school

graduate from my second year in the program, so I was able to

transfer directly to Kyoto Rokumeikan University.

“It’s still a big deal. Regardless of what a sprain it became

for you…”

“That’s a ‘strain.’ ”

“Regardless of what a strain it became for you, the ER

program’s entrance exam is a great obstacle to have overcome.

You should have a little more pride about your

accomplishments.”

The ER program’s entrance exam was unusually difficult.

Even in the application guidebook it said, “There are no perks.

This does not guarantee your future. No one will come to

rescue you. We offer only an environment in which you may

sate your intellectual curiosity,” yet still elite candidates from

around the world gathered to take the test. So it was true,

merely passing the test was something to boast about.

But.

I hadn’t completed the program.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 3 4

“There’s no point if you drop out halfway. End results are

everything in this world.”

Actually, I happen to think everything in this world is a

result… Or are you one of those ‘a genius is a genius is a

genius’ people?” She had the slightest bit of sarcasm in her

tone. “A genius is not a rose. In Japan, you often see people

who take pride simply in the effort they give, don’t you? ‘I’ve

endured great hardships, regardless of the end results,’ they

say. They say there’s merit in effort alone. I think that’s a valid

outlook. Saying ‘I worked hard’ is a fine conclusion in and of

itself. What I have a problem with is lowlifes who spout

absurdities like ‘I could have done that if I wanted’ or ‘I

couldn’t do it because I just wasn’t trying’ or ‘I said I can do it,

but that doesn’t mean I will.’ That’s all ridiculous. There

really are all sorts of people in this world, huh?”

“I didn’t try because I couldn’t do it.”

“Hmm, hehehe, you know, you’ve sort of got this worldweary

quality about you.”

“It’s probably just modesty.”

“Bingo.”

The right part of her lip curled up in a half-smile and she

produced a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. In graceful,

fluid motions, she put one in her mouth and lit it.

“Wow, you smoke? I’m surprised.”

“Are you the type who doesn’t like women who smoke?”

“Well, no, not women particularly. Smoking is bad for your

health, you know.”

“Health is bad for your smoking, you know,” she retorted,

slowly exhaling smoke. There’s that Seven Fools wit, I

thought, but she smirked with embarrassment. “It’s a stupid

argument, huh? Don’t mind me. It’d be awful if you ended up

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thinking I was that kind of person,” she said. “Shall we change

the subject? You know, I was actually in Japan all the way

through high school.”

“Really?” I was a little surprised. But if you thought about

it, it was really no mystery. “Which high school?”

“Just your average prefectural school. It wasn’t particularly

well-known. I was in the girls’ karate club back then. I didn’t

like it at all at the time, but in retrospect it was really fun.

Gee, that takes me back. It’s already been more than ten

years… The skirts back then were this long. I didn’t have the

best grades, but I was good in math and English. That’s why I

ended up at an overseas university. My family was very against

it, but I defied them. After all, don’t they say ‘if you love

someone, set them ablaze’?”

“No.”

“Anyway, it was like that, so in the end I cut myself off

from my family and crossed over to America on my own. It

was a hell of a big move for someone like me back then.”

And thus she ended up in the Seven Fools. Maybe

Cinderella was in this story, too.

“So you do like math. I had a feeling.”

“Well, you know, I don’t dislike it. In high school I liked

how there was always one concrete answer, no vague

components, so math was all I did. I liked clear-cut things. But

in college, at the ER3 System, I came to realize that wasn’t

necessarily the case. It’s just like shogi or chess. You just have

to get a checkmate, but there are an infinite number of ways

to get there. I felt as if I had been swindled or something.”

“Like when a lover shows an unfamiliar side of themselves

to you?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 3 6

She laughed as if to say, “A romantic idea, but not exactly.”

“But I was also a little touched, you know. In my high

school days, I always figured math wouldn’t be of any use

once I got into the real world, but in fact there really are cases

where you have to use calculus and cubic equations and such.

You use factorials in everyday life. I was definitely touched by

that fact.”

“I understand.” I nodded.

I really did.

She smiled in a satisfied way. “Are you a math person, too?

On average, men are much more likely to be mathematically

inclined than women. Because of the way their brains work.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, based on statistical data.”

“Sounds like sexist data to me.”

Besides, statistical evidence is pretty unreliable. If you roll

a die one hundred times and it lands on six every single time,

that doesn’t necessarily mean it’ll be a six the next time, too. I

told her this, but she protested.

“If it lands on six one hundred times in a row, it’s a die that

only lands on six. It’s too significant a difference to be written

off as a coincidence or leaning odds. Male-female statistics are

kind of like that, too, though. Hehehe, so you’re a feminist.

Or are you just being polite around me? Well, unfortunately

I’m not a feminist. Listening to talk about expanding women’s

rights and women’s liberation makes me sick to my stomach. I

mean, right? They’re obviously spouting nonsense. Sure, it’s a

man’s world, but it’s not gender equality we need, it’s equal

opportunity to apply our abilities. Men and women are so

different that you can practically call them genetically separate

creatures. So I believe they have separate roles. Of course,

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that rests on the major assumption that your role and what

you want to do are separate, and the minor assumption that if

you have to choose between the two, what you want to do

should come first. Ah, and maybe the medium-sized

assumption that you can do what you want to do first. But

saying you can’t do anything sounds like a convenient excuse

to me.”

“There’s also the factor of environment.”

“Environment, huh? But was there ever an age when

women were forbidden from writing, or from sculpting?

Regarding recent trends, I’ve become more inclined to

sympathize with men. I feel as if they’re closer to my own

point of view, but also, until the modern day, the workplace

was always exclusively man’s domain, right? So it’s no wonder

they got angry when women wanted to butt in.”

“They were just righting a wrong. That’s just tough luck for

the men.” I wondered why I had to take the feminist stance.

“Hmm,” she nodded. “Maybe you’re right. I don’t really

know. But I can understand why women get angry at men,

too. Even though they’re just carrying out their roles and

we’re just carrying out ours, they still act all big about it and

put on airs. It’s no wonder women get angry. Just so long as

they don’t try to mix me up into anything. I guess what I truly

want is for feminists to just do it away from me. Whatever the

case may be, women are inherently a boring breed. Just like

you men. Hmm, come to think of it, there were more men

than women at ER3, too. Within the Seven Fools, five were

men.”

“Increasing returns, huh?”

“Eh?” She seemed taken aback. I’m afraid I don’t know that

word. What is it, some kind of dieting thing or something?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 3 8

“It means Beta lost to VHS.”

“Ah, you mean the bias that occurs in economics. That’s

right, to return a once male-biased world to equilibrium,

you’d have to go through quite a bit of hardship. Really, there

wouldn’t be any problems if men and women weren’t always

acting jealous of each other. But nobody gets it, do they? And

yet they claim there’s no difference between separation and

discrimination.”

“You know, Akane-san, coming from you this all sounds

convincing. I guess you must be going through ‘quite a bit of

hardship’ yourself.”

“Never,” she said flatly. “I just make a little effort.”

It was a loaded statement.

Suddenly I recalled something I had wanted to ask

someone ever since I first learned of the Seven Fools’ existence

at ER3.

“Say, who’s the number one smartest person in the entire

ER3 system?”

In other words, who was the smartest person in the world?

Akane-san answered with little deliberation.

“Number two is Froilein Love.”

“And number one?”

“Come on, kid, you expect me to list everyone?”

Huh.

“Kidding, kidding. Hmm, to answer your question

seriously, the person I respect the most, or in other words the

person I place above myself and all others, is probably

Assistant Professor Hewlett. He is number one for sure.”

Almost unspeakably accomplished, he was the single

greatest mind of the last century, and probably this one as

well. The first and probably last man to master every subject

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 3 9

when he was still in his single digits. Granted special criminal

immunity by the president, he used his superior intellect to

serve the good of the nation.

If Akane-san was like a god to me, Assistant Professor

Hewlett was the very fabric of the universe.

“If he had been a woman, he probably would’ve changed

history,” she said, looking off into the distance. It was a

curious look of admiration.

“Sorry for the wait!” With expert timing, Hikari-san

appeared, pushing a cart. On top of it sat my breakfast. With

experienced hands, she placed it in front of me, followed by a

knife and fork on either side. “Please take your time,” she said

with a bow and radiant smile, and then went off somewhere

once more. It seemed she still had lots of work to do.

Nine pieces of deep-fried risotto balls on lettuce. Fish soup,

salad, and a sandwich made with Italian bread. Plus coffee.

“That Sashirono-san is hot stuff, huh?” Akane-san

muttered, eyeing my meal.

Sashirono Yayoi.

She ran the mansion’s kitchen, but she wasn’t an

employee. Indeed, she was one of the geniuses who had been

invited to the island. Having already been here for over a year,

at this point she was the longest-running guest. There was no

doubt that many of the elite visitors to the island had come in

hopes of trying her cuisine.

Officially, her specialty was Western cuisine, but she could

just as skillfully do any other type, whether it be Chinese,

Japanese, or what have you. She was a cooking master with

whom no one in the culinary world wasn’t familiar—or so

went the tales about her. Personally, I was just as ignorant

about cooking as I was about art and academics, so I had sadly

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 4 0

not even heard of Yayoi-san until visiting the island, but

having the privilege to try her dishes three times a day plus

between-meal snacks, even I came to know of her

extraordinary culinary prowess.

The typical image that accompanied a first name like

“Yayoi” is either that of a stuck-up know-it-all or a short,

spunky girl, but this Yayoi-san fit neither description, instead

turning out to be a boisterous and lively woman with short

hair. With a polite manner about her, she was the unarrogant

type, despite being called a genius. She was also probably the

only down-to-earth person on the whole island besides me.

Likewise, she was the second-most pleasant person to talk to.

Incidentally, Hikari-san was first. Nah, I’m just babbling.

Word had it that Yayoi-san possessed some power that

allowed her to make any food better than any other cook, but

just what was it? I was curious to know, but had yet to

inquire. She spent most of the day in the kitchen (I think

that’s what you call a shut-in) so opportunities to speak with

her were rare.

I noticed that Akane-san was hungrily eyeing my risotto

balls. After a moment of my refusing to speak up, she

transferred her gaze to me. Something about her eyes was

slightly different from before. Like those of a carnivore

hunting wild game.

“Have you ever heard that people originally didn’t

acknowledge any numbers past seven?”

“Well, I…”

Apparently, all numbers past seven were simply thought of

as “a lot.” I had also heard in my program training that this

was the fundamental reason why the “Fools” were limited to

seven people.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 4 1

“Yeah, so just looking at things objectively, if your nine

risotto balls turned into eight, I don’t think it would be such a

great loss.”

“And?”

“You’re a sharp guy, huh? A good match for a girl like

Kunagisa.”

It’s not like that between us.”

“Don’t change the subject. Are you trying to get me to

kowtow to you? Fine. Sashirono-san’s risotto balls are

delicious, so gimme one. You happy?”

I slid my plate to her without saying anything.

Akane-san began to gleefully pop down the risotto balls,

one after another. Before you knew it, they were all gone.

Apparently by “one” she meant “one plate.”

Well, I was never one to eat a whole lot in the morning

anyway. I was supposed to eat for Kunagisa, too, but it was

awfully cruel of her to leave that to me.

Switching channels, I made my way to the sandwich and

salad. Not to be too generic, it was really good. If you said this

was the only kind of food that was served at the island (and all

of it free, no less), no genius would decline. Surprisingly, even

Akane-san was evidently in that boat.

“Now then, to get back to the subject you’re so slyly

avoiding,” she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin, “if it’s

‘not like that’ between you two, just what is your

relationship? If you were just friends, you wouldn’t have come

to this island together. You have school to worry about.”

Indeed, by coming to the island I had missed every day of

class since the school entrance ceremony. Incidentally, I also

missed the entrance ceremony. In other words, well, yeah.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 4 2

“I met her before I was in the program. So there’s a blank

of five years.”

“Mmm, and when you got back she turned out to be a

cyberterrorist, huh? That’s a sordid little tale.”

Indeed.

I saw it coming even when we were thirteen years old.

Nevertheless, reuniting with her after my five years of study

abroad, I was honestly surprised at how little had changed

from the old days. Anyone would be surprised to suddenly

return to their early teens. Of course, that was just how things

seemed. In reality, she had become much more human in

terms of personality.

Our relationship.

Asked flat out, it was a tough question to answer.

Kunagisa needed me—that much I knew. However, it

didn’t really have to be me. It would be extremely difficult to

explain the circumstances that surrounded us. To do so, I’d

have to explain a lot about Kunagisa herself, and I didn’t

especially want to do that.

“Mmm,” Akane-san nodded.

“I haven’t talked with Kunagisa-chan all that much, but it

seems to me she has too many shortcomings to go through

everyday life… Hmm, I guess I shouldn’t say shortcomings.

It’s not like she’s defective. But her focus is just so skewed. It

reminds me of my friend whose kid is a savant.”

Savant—in French, it means a person with wisdom. I was

aware that Kunagisa, too, used to be called a savant. I

probably knew too much about her.

“So she probably really does need someone like you looking

after her. There’s no doubt about that. But I mean, how does

that make you feel?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 4 3

I didn’t have an answer.

“It seems like you two have something of a codependent

existence,” Akane-san continued.

“Codependent existence?”

She tilted her head as if to say, “Haven’t you heard the

word?”

“It’s a symptom of addiction that affects human

relationships. Like, for example, let’s say there’s a recovering

alcoholic who has a caretaker by his side. He needs that

caretaker, and the caretaker devotedly looks after him. But

when that devotion goes to extremes, it’s a sign of

codependency. They get drunk on serving. You even see mild

cases of it in romantic couples. Needless to say, it’s not a good

thing. You end up putting each other to waste. I’m not going

to say you two are like that, but you might want to take care.”

“Sure.”

“Few things are as meaningless as prolonging a failed

relationship. But still, I’m full of nothing but awe for

Kunagisa-chan’s talents. Even at ER3 they’re using software

that she created. Er, ‘they’ created, rather. But certainly I

never imagined I would meet her in a place like this.”

“Why are you on this island anyway?”

It wasn’t like the Seven Fools had the emptiest schedules in

the world.

“No real reason,” she said after a few moments’ silence. It

was a strangely blunt response, and it bothered me a little.

“But more important, even if you’re not the best player, you

at least know the rules to shogi and chess, right? Why don’t

we have a game while we reminisce a little more about ER3?”

“Sure.”

A shogi challenge with one of the Seven Fools.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 4 4

Sounded interesting.

“But not without looking. My memory is famously bad.”

Not the greatest reputation to have, if I do say so myself. “If

we can change locations, I’m in.”

“I’ve got a board in my room. It was the first thing I bought

when I got back to Japan. Hmm, I’ve actually got some work

to do this morning. How’s this afternoon?”

“Sounds good… Ah wait, I can’t. I’ve already got

something.”

“Oh? Meeting up with Kunagisa-chan or something, huh?

Well, if that’s the case, what can you do.”

“No, with Kanami-san.”

Boom.

Akane-san’s expression grew unusually stern.

Damn it, I’d forgotten. When I had first arrived on the

island, Hikari-san had been kind enough to let me know that

Akane-san and Kanami-san were on catastrophically bad

terms, but because of my famously bad memory I had

forgotten.

“Hmph. We’re pals, so I’ll give you a bit of advice. You

shouldn’t hang around with someone with such a vulgar

occupation. Lowering oneself like that is stupid, you know?”

“Akane-san, you really hate Kanami-san, don’t you?”

“No. There’s no reason for me to embrace any feelings of

like or dislike toward that woman. But artists truly are a

despicable race. Hmph, seriously!” She banged her hand on the

table. “There’s nothing I hate more than painters. They’re the

most inferior race in existence. Compared to them, thieves

anti rapists look like Jesus. All they do is dab a little bit of

paint on something with a little brush and they think they’re

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 4 5

so damn great. A little red, a little blue, and poof, it’s a

‘masterpiece’! Hah! Anybody can do it!”

It was as if she had turned into another person. It was such

an abrupt transformation, it almost made you wonder if a

painter had once stolen her research materials or something.

“Ah, sorry,” she said, returning to her normal self upon

noticing my stunned expression. “I guess I got carried away.

Not that I’m going to take any of that back, but I know it’s no

fun listening to someone gripe about someone else. I think I’m

going to go cool off,” she said, her words racing, then helped

herself to the rest of my coffee and made for the door. It

seemed she was regretting losing her head like that. Even if

she wasn’t going to take it back.

Once I was alone, I let out a sigh.

Man, I had been nervous. I’m not that used to holding

conversations with people in the first place, much less

Sonoyama Akane of the ER3 Seven Fools. No sweat, right?

Well, aside from that blunder at the very end, we were

actually able to hold a much more natural conversation than I

would’ve imagined, so I guess I should’ve been happy. And

maybe, sometime in the next four days, I would get to have

that game of shogi with her.

I let out another sigh, but there was no time to snooze.

Having finished breakfast, I decided to pay yet another visit to

Kunagisa’s room, but not a second later, Maki-san appeared in

mid-yawn. Fully dressed in outdoor gear, which she

complemented with a high ponytail, she looked very much

like she had come to this island on vacation.

“Ba baya baya baya baya bahhh,” she hummed cheerfully as

she strolled over and took a seat by me.

“Good morning.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 4 6

“Hello.”

“No no no, you gotta say ‘good morning’ when you greet

someone in the morning. Ah, wait, is it not still morning?

You’ve been up since six, so it probably feels pretty late to

you, wow. As for me, I have extraordinarily low blood

pressure, so I can’t be like you,” she said with another big

yawn. I gave the usual nod and “yup” combo. There was no

point in asking how she knew when I woke up.

I was once again nervous, this time in an entirely different

way than when I was with Akane-san.

Himena Maki-san.

Of course she wasn’t just here for the surfing. There was a

solid reason for her being on this island.

Maki-san’s occupation was fortune-telling. Just as Kanamisan

was a painting genius and Akane-san was an academic

genius, Maki-san was known as a genius in the world of

fortune-telling.

Now that’s a real talent, huh? I thought to myself.

That aside, I wasn’t a big fan of Maki-san.

We had had a bad first impression of each other.

“You’re a fortune-teller? I’ve never met one of those

before. So how does my fortune look?”

It’s not like I actually cared all that much about my

fortune. I just figured that since she was a fortune-teller, it was

the socially appropriate thing to say. Normally any person

would be thrilled to have the conversation turn to their field

of expertise. As Churchill once said, “I want to talk about

what I know, but people only ask me about what I don’t.” I

just didn’t want to be one of those “people.”

That’s just an excuse though.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 4 7

But after hearing my question, Maki-san sneered, and said,

“Well, give me your year, month, and date of birth; your

blood type; and the name of your favorite movie actor.” I

answered, but all the while wondering what possible

connection my favorite actor could have to my fortune,

birthday and blood type aside. In any case, I had forgotten my

blood type, and I didn’t really know a lot of movie actors, for

that matter, so I just made some answers up.

“Okay, I see. Then, take this,” Maki-san said, producing a

slip of paper from her pocket and handing it to me. And with

that, she left.

I opened the paper fortune and took a look. My date of

birth along with the blood type and actor I had just given were

inscribed on it in Mincho font.

“You were tricking me, weren’t you?”

After that, I went to check with Kunagisa about it. “I figure

it’s some worn-out magic trick where the pocket has hidden

slips of paper with random numbers written on them or

something,” I said.

“Mmm-mmm.” Kunagisa shook her head. “No way. That

might work for playing cards, but for something like this there

would have to be too many. Plus, she would’ve had to look

you up beforehand. It’s not like she could’ve guessed you

would lie about your blood type and favorite actor.”

And then Kunagisa gave me the Himena Maki lecture. It

seemed that although uneducated folks like myself hadn’t

heard of her, Maki-san had actually made quite a name for

herself in the fortune-telling world. She didn’t do those

supposedly therapeutic horoscope-style “cold readings” like

you see in magazines, but rather used her skills to advise

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 4 8

bigwig politicians and corporate clients, never making much of

a spectacle of herself.

Himena Maki, master fortune-teller.

“Also known as a good self-promoter,” I commented.

Kunagisa seemed to think of her that way, too.

Her catchphrase for her: “The telepath who knows the

past, the future, human beings, the world, and all inside it.”

“What’s a telepath?”

“She’s super-powered,” she said aloofly. “She’s got

extrasensory perception.”

“Huh?”

“ESP. Super abilities are divided into the two categories of

ESP and PK. What Maki-chan’s got is ESP. Retrocognition,

precognition, and telepathy. In translation, retrocognition

means she can see the past. Precognition means she knows the

future. Telepathy means she can read your psyche.”

“Wait a sec, I don’t follow. Slow down. Tomo, Maki-san is

a fortune-teller, right?”

“Occupationally, yes. Using her special abilities. That’s all.

Being able to run fast isn’t an occupation, right? But being an

athlete is. Being good with your hands isn’t an occupation,

right? But being a craftsman is. Special abilities are just

abilities, but fortune-telling is an occupation.”

“Ah…” I nodded. “So Maki-san…”

“Yep. She read your thoughts in advance, even before she

asked you those questions.” She flashed a bright smile.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 4 9

“Superpowers, huh?” I muttered softly so as not to be heard

by Maki-san, now sitting next to me in the dining room. I

recalled my conversation with Kunagisa. Her previous

explanation had sounded somewhat convincing, to be sure,

but…

Now, sitting next to this sleepy-eyed, spacey woman, it

was really hard to imagine she was a fortune-teller. She just

seemed like some drowsy chick with low blood pressure.

“I told you I’m a fortune-teller, but you seem to be

dissatisfied,” she said, suddenly shifting her glance toward me.

For some reason, she seemed to be picking on me a little ever

since our first encounter. “Perhaps you’d like me to go walking

around with a black hood and crystal ball. Should I speak to

you in vague, cryptic terms about your impending doom? You

just take everything at face value, don’t you?”

“I don’t think that’s the case.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. I know all about it,” she replied, shaking her

head. “Well, whatever. You don’t matter anyway.”

“I don’t matter?”

“Yup. You’re the Japanese representative of things that

don’t matter.”

In other words, the most unimportant guy in Japan. It was

a terrible thing to hear.

“But I’ll give you one piece of advice out of the kindness of

my heart. Your impression of me is quite out of line. And

that’s not all. The ideas you hold about the residents of this

island are all out of line. And that includes Kunagisa-chan.

More important, it looks like you intentionally adjust all your

beliefs when you’re talking to other people. That’s surely a

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 5 0

very comfortable way to live, but I wouldn’t call it a wise

one,” she rattled off at me as she let out another catlike yawn.

For the last two days, I had gotten the same earful of gripes

every time we met. And I couldn’t say she was all that far off

the mark, either. Her remarks were so accurate, I wondered if

she really was using telepathy.

I’ll be honest: I found her really creepy.

“Oh, I’m sorry for being creepy.”

With that said, she stormed off in the direction of the

kitchen, presumably to get her breakfast.

So as not to let this opportunity slip through my fingers, I

immediately made my way out of the dining room and back to

Kunagisa’s room. As I expected, she was still face-to-face with

her workstation. It didn’t seem right to be such a shut-in while

also being a guest in another person’s home, but I guess we

just had different values.

Kunagisa looked back at me.

“Oooh, Ii-chan. Welcome back. How was it? Did you run

into anyone?”

“Almost everyone. Today I’ve seen everyone except

Teruko-san and Iria-san. Oh yeah, Yayoi-san, too.”

But having eaten her food, I felt as if I had met her.

“Hmm, well, that’s almost perfect.”

“What is?”

“Your score in the Meeting Everyone on Wet Crow’s

Feather Island by Mid-Morning Contest.”

What a crappy-sounding contest.

But anyway.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 5 1

There were currently twelve people on the island. Artist

Ibuki Kanami-san, chef Sashirono Yayoi-san, Sonoyama Akane

of the Seven Fools, fortune-teller Himena Maki-san, and

engineer Kunagisa Tomo. Then there was Sakaki Shinya and

myself, the tagalongs. Then there were the original residents

of the island, starting with Akagami Iria, who owned the

island and the mansion, plus head maid Handa Rei-san and

the three all-purpose maids, Chiga Akari-san, Chiga Hikarisan,

and Chiga Teruko-san. A total of twelve people.

In an ordinary-sized house, things would’ve already gotten

quite cramped, but in this oversized palace, there was still an

excess of space.

That’s when I remembered.

“Hey, Kunagisa. How long were you planning to be here

again?”

“Another four days. So for a week, yeah?”

“Shinya-san was asking me about something.” I explained

to her what Shinya-san had talked to me about. The rumor

about Iria-san’s favorite jack-of-all-trades coming to town.

Kunagisa, however, seemed uninterested, tuning out the

majority of my story.

“Is that really important? It’s all really vague information,

so it’s hard to say. but I don’t think we really need to meet

this person. I didn’t really come here to meet any geniuses,

and I’m not really interested.”

“Well, yeah, but, hey, speaking of that, I’ve been meaning

to ask for a while, why exactly did you come here? If you’re

not interested in that kind of thing, what were you so

interested in?”

I couldn’t figure why someone who hated leaving the

house as much as Kunagisa did would accept an invitation like

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 5 2

this. She tilted her head a bit, and after a moment’s pause

said, “Eh, just ‘cuz.” A nonanswer. “There’s no particular

reason, really. Or are you the type of guy who always needs

there to be one for everything?”

I shrugged.

No way.

“As long as there’s a network, it doesn’t really matter

where I am. Home is the best in the end, though,” she said in

spite of still being on vacation.

Well, whatever. She was just being her usual whimsical

self. I didn’t particularly mind, and it wasn’t like I was

supposed to, either. I sprawled myself out on the pure white

carpet and stared up at the chandelier on the ceiling. Man,

what an unrealistic scene. Then again, if you asked me what

would be a realistic scene, I wouldn’t know what to say.

Kunagisa looked at me sprawled on the floor. “Ii-chan, I

don’t suppose you’re bored?”

“I’m bored with life.”

“Y’know, that’s really unattractive.”

Huh.

She laid it right out for me.

“If you’re free, why not read a book? I brought a few.”

“A book, huh? Whatcha got?”

“Um, a Japanese-English dictionary, the Statute Books, and

a modern Japanese dictionary.”

“Man, bring that stuff in digital form.”

Who has fun reading that kind of stuff?

Oh, right. She does.

Half giving up and half fed up, I rolled over.

“Huh? Ii-chan, your watch is broken, isn’t it?”

“Eh?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 5 3

I took a look at my watch. That’s right. Come to think of

it, I had meant to ask her to fix it. After running into so many

people this morning, I’d forgotten all about it.

“Lemme see. I’ll fix it for you.”

“Here. Maybe the battery’s dead.”

“Hmm…” She held the watch up to the light. “Nope,

something else is wrong. Did you bump it into something

hard? Anyway, I think it’ll be a quick fix. But you know,

wristwatches have become sort of an anachronism these days.

Most people just get by with their cell phone. Huh? Speaking

of which, where’s yours?”

“I left it at home.”

“You should bring it. That’s what makes it a mobile phone.”

“But what if I dropped it?”

“Well, I guess, but—”

“And it would be out of service here anyway. It would take

a phone like yours to get any signal here.”

Kunagisa uses a phone that receives signals from relay

satellites anywhere in the world. Even on a deserted island in

the middle of nowhere, her phone didn’t know the meaning of

the phrase “out of service.”

Of course, it didn’t come cheap. It was a terrible waste of

money for an antisocialite like Kunagisa, but she wasn’t the

type to give much thought to such matters.

“Hmm, maybe so. Well, it’s not like being an anachronism

is a bad thing.”

She narrowed her big eyes and placed my watch next to

the computer rack.

Just then there was a knock at the door. Kunagisa showed

no response whatsoever, so I had no choice but to open it

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 5 4

myself. The visitor was none other than Hikari-san, cleaning

supplies in tow.

“Hello. Thanks so much.” I invited her in.

“Yo, Hikari-chan, ciaooo!” Kunagisa welcomed her with a

full-faced grin. Hikari-san responded in likewise fashion. For

some reason these two girls were strangely friendly with each

other. They just plain got along. It’s a rare thing for someone

to be able to become so friendly with Kunagisa in such a short

period of time, so I couldn’t help but be a little surprised.

“What are you up to, Tomo-san?”

“I’m making some game software right now. I’m creating

an application that converts text to music. I figured I’d give it

to Iria-san as a memento of my visit.”

“What kind of game is that?” I said.

“Well, shall I explain? Okay, um, okay, so, Ii-chan, what’s

the longest book you’ve ever read?”

“I quit halfway through The Tale of Genji and Don Quixote,

so… Tolstoy’s War and Peace. Man, that was long.”

“Okay. So let’s say you converted that whole book into a

text document, whether by using a scanner or by typing it all

by hand. Then you do a digital-to-analog conversion, like

where ‘i’ is ‘do,’ ‘ro’ is ‘re,’ ‘ha’ is ‘me,’ and so on. If you do

that, you end up with the ‘War and Peace Song.’ For that much

text, it would probably come out to around… an hour,

maybe? Of course, in reality it’s more complicated than that.

The code conversions and sessions and everything have to be

wholly consistent. But still, it turns books into music. Sounds

fun, right?”

“Well, definitely sounds interesting, anyway. What

programming language are you using? VB? C?”

“Machine language.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 5 5

An extremely basic-level coding language. I didn’t think

anybody used that kind of language these days.

“Man, it’s like you can communicate with the machine like

it’s just some close buddy of yours.”

“Heh heh heh.” she laughed, just a little boastfully.

Seemingly even more ignorant than I about computers,

Hikari-san wore an inscrutable expression, not revealing

whether she was following the conversation, and said nothing

more than “Wow.”

“Seriously,” I said. “But what’s actually fun about this

game? I guess I don’t really get it.”

“Making it is fun.”

It was a solid reason. I couldn’t object.

Hikari-san listened with apparent interest, but then seemed

to remember something. “Oh, right.” She turned to me.

“Would it be all right if I cleaned your room later on? I

stopped by the storeroom a little earlier, but you were out.”

“Sure, no problem.”

I sure didn’t know what cleaning there was to be done in

that room, though. Hikari-san politely thanked me and

resumed cleaning Kunagisa’s room.

After a single sweep of the room, she stopped and

crouched to the floor with a sigh.

“I apologize. I’m just… a little exhausted.”

“Why not take a break?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Rei-san would get mad anyway. I’ve said it

before, but she’s so strict. I’ll be fine. I’m peppy. That’s my

one positive trait. I’m fine. Please forgive me for causing you

concern,” she said firmly, then exited the room.

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I let out a sigh. “Sure seems to have it tough. Maybe it’s

just my assumption, but seeing her like that, it seems as if

she’s bearing an awfully big load on her own.”

“Do you feel a little like you’re watching yourself?”

“It’s not like that, but y’know, I do feel a bit of sympathy

for her.” She did seem to be miserable, after all. Rei-san and

Akari-san seemed to have a distinct division in their heads that

this was just “work,” but Hikari-san didn’t seem to be able to

mentally process it that way. It was like the concept of work

hadn’t been figured into her internal “circuit.” Perhaps there

were circumstances surrounding that.

As for the other maid, Teruko-san, I wasn’t sure what she

was thinking, so I couldn’t comment.

“Everybody’s suffering through something, Ii-chan,”

Kunagisa said knowingly. “Everybody knows hardship, or even

if they don’t, they’re at least exerting effort somewhere.

Hikari-san, your pal Nao-kun, Akane-chan—everyone. If

there’s anyone who lives without suffering or exerting effort,

it’s probably me.”

After having lunch, I headed for the atelier as promised.

Kunagisa claimed, as usual, not to be hungry and headed to

bed shortly after noon. She was a chronically sleep-deprived

little techie.

“Wake me for din-din, please. I hafta see Iria-chan and

stuff,” she said.

I knocked on the atelier door, waited for a response, then

turned the knob.

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The floors were uncarpeted hardwood. In some ways it

reminded me of the art room in my elementary school, except

of course that this room wasn’t lined with scarred-up desks

and there weren’t any fake-looking plaster sculptures. It

wasn’t as big either. The total area of the atelier was probably

around half the size of the room Kunagisa was staying in.

“Welcome. Take a seat over there,” Kanami-san said, after

briefly staring at me in cold silence. Shinya-san must have

been in his room or someplace, as Kanami-san was the only

person there. I walked past a shelf containing paint and paint

supplies and took a seat as told.

I faced Kanami-san. “Thanks for doing this.”

I couldn’t deny that she was a pretty woman. With blond

hair and blue eyes, she was like one of those “well-bred young

ladies” you see in old films. An intellectual, at that. And even

more, she had artistic talent. It was like she had God’s favor.

No, maybe I can’t say that.

She had bad legs, and until a few years ago, she couldn’t

even see. I guess it would be pretty damn low of me in all my

able-bodied good fortune to gripe. But on the other hand,

Kanami-san herself didn’t seem to view her condition as a

handicap or disability.

“God is fair. If I had been able-bodied, it would’ve

conversely been unfair to ordinary people.” “Legs are just a

decoration.” “Even when I gained my eyesight, my world

didn’t really change. The world looked just as I’d thought.

Natural selection and fate have unusually bad taste.”

All of these are quotes from Kanami-san’s art books.

Kanami-san sat in a round, wooden chair just like the one I

was sitting in. She was in a dress, so it looked mildly

uncomfortable, I noticed.

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“Kanami-san, is that what you wear when you’re painting?”

“Are you doubting my fashion sense?”

Her face grew subtly more stern. It seemed that this was

no joke. She was actually miffed. I scrambled to weasel my

way out.

“No no, I didn’t mean that. I was just thinking your clothes

might get dirty.”

“I don’t go and change my clothes every time I paint

something. Up to now, I’ve never dirtied my clothes even once

while painting. I’m not an idiot.”

“Oh, I see.”

I guess it was like being an expert calligrapher. In

retrospect, getting paint on your clothes is probably a pretty

amateur blunder. To Kanami-san, one of the top artists in the

entire world, the mere suggestion was probably rude.

I shrugged.

“But is it really okay painting someone like me?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped with the

same stern expression. She seemed to be in a pretty awful

mood. Or no, maybe this was her default setting.

“Er, no, it’s just that, won’t it decrease your worth as an

artist?”

Like, for example, it was probably safe to say that Kunagisa

had technological skill like no one else in the world. However,

she only ever used that technology for fun, so the number of

people who actually acknowledged her as amazing and

brilliant was extremely small.

“Authority comes from results. Not doing and not being

able to do are the same thing.”

Apparently that was Kunagisa’s case.

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I figured it was the same with painters. If you just choose

your subjects randomly and mess around all the time, it’s hard

to get other people to acknowledge your worth as an artist.

But Kanami-san renounced my ideas.

“Didn’t I just tell you I’m not an idiot? Do you have a brain

at all? I don’t go around choosing subjects. You know, if you

keep your mouth shut, people won’t see how stupid you are,

so why don’t you do just that?”

My heart sank.

“I just… I hate that kind of thinking. It makes me want to

puke. ‘Oh, there were no good subjects to paint.’ ‘My model

was no good.’ ‘The environment was all wrong.’ ‘That’s not

the kind of subject I should be painting.’ And it’s not just with

painters either. Even you know people who say obnoxiously

egotistical things like ‘Oh, this isn’t what I want to do’ or ‘Oh,

I don’t know what I want to do,’ right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Yeah, myself.

“For god’s sakes,” she sighed. “I hate people who bitch

about what they want and don’t want to do, putting their own

ineptitude on a pedestal. I want to tell them to stop living like

pricks. I don’t mean they should all die, but they should be

more humble. Just paint anything and stop whining all the

time. I don’t care if it’s some boring jerk or a pile of bug guts.

I’d turn it into gorgeous art.”

Regardless of how sweet and pretty she looked, she sure

was full of herself. She was so uncompromising that she didn’t

even forgive others who compromised.

Being compared to a pile of bug guts wasn’t my favorite

thing in the world, but if she could paint that, surely she could

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paint me. It seemed that making any further thoughtful

comments would just end badly, so I decided to stay quiet.

I noticed that behind Kanami-san was a canvas. An

underangle view of the cherry blossom tree was drawn on it in

pencil. The one she had been looking at this morning with

Shinya-san.

It was so precisely drawn, it was like a monochrome

photograph. With about ten million pixels. No, that’s dumb.

There was no need to cheapen such an intricate drawing with

that kind of metaphor.

I pointed to the picture. “When did you draw that?”

“This morning. Got a problem?”

It was early morning when she was observing the tree. That

was about five hours earlier. In other words, she had drawn

this amazingly detailed picture in a mere five hours. A

drawing like this should’ve taken at least a week to complete.

Without thinking, I shot her a skeptical expression. She

grimaced back at me audaciously.

“Only idiots spend three or four months doing something

you can finish in a week. Idiots or lazy people. And since I’m

neither, I did this picture in three hours. It doesn’t take me

any longer than that.”

Huh.

Being the pure embodiment of laziness myself, this was

painful to hear. It stung. I wished Kunagisa could’ve heard it,

too.

“Right? Even you have to agree a little, too, right?” she said

in a cruel tone, demanding my concurrence. I couldn’t help

but feel as if she were attacking me with a direct insult. And I

doubt that was just a false impression.

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“Uh, no, well, I mean… yeah. Er, but anyway, you’re really

good.”

“Yeah, sure,” she answered, completely uninterested in my

generic praise. It really was an exceedingly bland comment for

me to make, in retrospect. You’re really good. It sounds like

something a five-year-old would say.

“Uh, so, Kanami-san, you do detail pictures?”

“I do all kinds of pictures. Didn’t you know?”

Oh yeah, I’d put my toot in my mouth again. The woman

before my eyes was Ibuki Kanami-san, the woman artist who

denied having any style and took no stance. Whether it be

detailed or abstract, there was no picture she couldn’t or

wouldn’t paint.

She squinted just one eye at me. “I don’t get hung up on

one style. It’s not a rule set in stone, but getting too hung up is

just plain crazy. It’s nuts. If there’s one thing in life I want to

do as I please, it’s painting.”

“You may be right, huh?” Unable to argue or concur, I

settled with a simple nod. Perhaps able to see through me, she

returned my nod with a contemptuous sneer.

“Hey, have you ever seen my art?”

“Well, a few times in some of your art books. But owing to

my ignorance, this is the first time I’ve seen it directly.”

“Hmm, and what did you think of it? Not the art book

stuff, but that cherry blossom one.”

To me, Kanami-san’s question was a bit of a surprise. I

never figured that so-called geniuses cared much about other

people’s opinions of them. Starting with Sonoyama Akanesan,

none of the people at ER3, including that deplorable

group of study-abroad participants, had any vanity or desire

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 6 2

for glory, and nobody cared about how they looked in other

people’s eyes.

“I know my worth better than anyone else does. I don’t

need to sit here and be evaluated by a bunch of brainless

slackers.” This was their unanimous way of thinking. Probably

why I wasn’t a big fan of theirs.

“Um,” I said, groping for an answer, “well, it’s a very pretty

picture.”

“A pretty picture, huh?” she repeated my line. “You know,

there’s no need to try and flatter me. I won’t get mad.”

“Well, it’s just that I don’t really have much judgment or a

critical eye for this kind of thing. But yeah, I think it’s a pretty

picture.”

“Hmm… pretty?”

She wore an utterly disappointed expression as she stared

at her canvas. She muttered something to herself.

“Pretty… prettyprettypretty. That’s not the kind of

compliment you give to art.”

“Eh?”

“Hmm, you don’t get it, huh? Damn, I really don’t want to

do this. What a waste.”

She let out a heavy sigh, hunched over a bit, and picked up

the canvas.

She lifted it up over her head…

…and smashed it into the hardwood floor.

The sound of splintering wood.

Of course, it wasn’t the floor that had broken.

“Hey, wh-what are you doing?”

“As you can see, I’m disposing of my screwup. Ah, why did

it have to come to this?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 6 3

That decidedly should’ve been my line. She stared down at

the shattered remains of her canvas, a sorrowful expression on

her face, and let out another sigh.

“Geez, it looked like it would’ve been worth about twenty

million one day.”

“Twenty million yen?”

“Twenty million dollars.”

Different unit.

“Of course, we’re talking about several decades later.”

“Artists can be pretty reckless sometimes, huh?”

I couldn’t help but feel guilty that my crappy comments

had invited this disaster.

“You shouldn’t feel like you did something wrong. This is

my responsibility. I’m not the kind of imbecile who pushes

her own responsibilities onto other people.”

“But I’m just an amateur. You didn’t have to do something

like that based on the opinion of an amateur.”

“It’s not art if you get to pick who looks at it,” she insisted.

So that’s how it was.

I could understand that.

Her words and her manner were filled to the brim with

spitefulness, but to be sure, this woman was an artist to the

bone.

“But it was so realistic, it was just like a photograph.”

“That’s not a compliment either, you know. Listen, if you

have a habit of complimenting people by saying ‘it’s just like

blah blah blah,’ I think you’d better quit it. It’s really an insult

of the highest order. If you absolutely have to box everything

into a style, though, I guess there’s no hope.” She turned back

toward me. “I suppose I can understand why you say it was

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 6 4

like a photograph, though. After all, photographs originally

spawned from drawings.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah. You didn’t know?” She raised an eyebrow at me.

It seemed saying, “You didn’t know?” was her habit.

“The person who invented daguerreotype photography was

a ‘factual artist.’ Apparently the study of perspective is related

to the invention of the camera. You’ve heard of the camera

obscura, right?”

Heard of it, yes. The so-called dark chamber. The

phenomenon where if you make a hole in one spot on the wall

of a pitch-black room, the outside scenery will project onto

the opposite wall. It was quite an old technology, dating back

to the days of the Roman Empire, and even having been

mentioned by Aristotle. Supposedly it was the origin of the

camera.

“It was just one invention used to create accurate images.

The main idea behind perspective is to ‘show things the way

they really look.’ That’s how the French artist Courbet put it.

He also made such realist remarks as ‘I’ve never seen an angel,

so why would I paint one?’ It goes against my philosophy,

though. If you get a kid to draw something, it never has any

perspective or depth, right? Everything’s just displayed in the

foreground. The size of objects is also chosen at whim, so for

example a house and a person are the same size, or the most

important thing is drawn the biggest. In other words, what

they’re putting on the canvas isn’t what the objects look like,

it’s how the objects feel. If you believe that drawing pictures is

a form of personal expression, then I think that’s the correct

way to do it. If you think about it like that, a drawing that

looks just like a photograph isn’t a good drawing at all, is it?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 6 5

“Wow”

As soon as she had broken out the professional lingo, I lost

my grip on what she was talking about. And with all her

chitchat she hadn’t even started setting up to paint. When was

she planning to get started already?

“Though truth be told, photographs aren’t such an accurate

representation of reality either. If you edit a photograph well,

it’s not hard to fool people. Maybe they’re not so different

from paintings, in the sense that they’re both selective.”

“Uh, Kanami-san, were you going to draw me?”

“Right now I’m memorizing.”

Just as I thought I was about to be called incompetent

again, she spoke to me with unexpected gentleness.

“Maybe you didn’t know? I’m the type who has to do her

work alone. When I’m with other people my focus goes

wacko.”

She sounded like Leonardo da Vinci. Artists who don’t

look and paint at the same time weren’t the kind of thing you

heard about every day, but they weren’t the most uncommon

thing in the world either, so I wasn’t particularly surprised.

“So when I do portraits, I just have to rely on my memory.”

“You can do that?”

“To me, memory and perception are synonymous.”

Now she sounded like Hannibal the Cannibal.

“Let’s just stay and talk like this for the next two hours.

Then I’ll start painting after you leave. Ah, after I redo this

cherry blossom picture, that is. I want to turn it into

something at least you can comprehend. For your painting, I’ll

need to put down two layers of color, so it’ll take a little while

to draw. I should be able to give it to you tomorrow morning.”

“You’ll give it to me?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 6 6

“Sure. I don’t need that kind of painting. I have no interest

in paintings that are finished. I’ll sign it, so if you sell it you

should be able to make something decent. Of course you

could always destroy it if you don’t like it, but that seems like

a bit of a waste. It should be worth about fifty million.”

What a materialistic conversation.

Sigh.

“Hey, by the way, I hear you’re on bad terms with Akanesan,

is that right?”

“That’s right. Or really, it’s sort of a one-sided hatred on

her part. As an individual, as a scholar, as a researcher, as a

member of the ER3 Seven Fools, I personally have nothing

but goodwill and respect for Sonoyama Akane, but…”

“But? What’s that supposed to mean?”

She gave a little smirk. “As for ‘just plain’ Sonoyama

Akane, I despise her.”

Two hours later.

After leaving Kanami-san’s atelier, I headed for Kunagisa’s

room. She was in bed, but evidently she had awoken at some

point and fixed my watch. In a world-class prank, she had

changed the digital face so that the numbers were displayed

backward, but at least it seemed to be working, so I stuck it on

my left arm, patted the sleeping Kunagisa on the head, said

thanks, and headed to Akane-san’s room.

“Play me,” she challenged, and then said with a delighted

smile, “I’ll give myself a bigger handicap.”

With that, she lined her side of the shogi board with chess

pieces.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 6 7

“It’s a Japanese-Western compromise.”

“Kinda like two different martial arts styles, huh?”

Handicap notwithstanding, I was thoroughly trounced.

Seven times in a row.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 6 9

If you blind yourself to the fact that your opinion is

entirely wrong, you’re essentially right.

I bludgeoned the slumbering Kunagisa awake, forced her to

wash her face, and tied her hair up in pigtails for her. Then

with her still half-asleep, and me half carrying her, we headed

to the dining hall, where everyone else from the mansion was

already gathered.

Round table, two empty seats.

I helped Kunagisa to her seat and then sat down next to

her. As I settled in my chair, I took a quick look around the

table at each person.

Out of the twelve people present, the most eye-catching

person—and I’m not sure whether or not this goes without

saying—was none other than the mistress of the house,

Akagami Iria-san. The concept of beauty is wholly subjective,

varying from one person to the next, so to say Iria-san was

beautiful would probably be pointless. If I say she was

beautiful, that was simply something I personally felt and

nothing more. Besides, Akari-san the maid was way more up

my alley, as long as we’re talking about personal preferences.

Uh, but none of that matters.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 7 0

Seriously.

To give something more objective, Akagami Iria was a

classy woman. She wore her pretty black hair in a roll,

coupled with an expensive-looking dress. She was actually

somewhat mismatched, but her excessive classiness more than

made up for it. She seemed to be around the same age as me,

still in her twenties, but man, upbringing and lineage really do

have their effects on people. Of course, there’s always other

factors as well, but those things are important for sure. That’s

always been the case.

Akagami Iria.

The black sheep granddaughter of the Akagami

Foundation.

“Well then, now that Kunagisa-san is here, shall we

commence with the best part of the day?” She put her hands

together like a little kid. “Chow down.” It seemed she was

fairly immature emotionally. It was probably safe to say she

wasn’t the most worldly person out there, but it was probably

just as well to her.

Incidentally, this island, where people were largely free to

do as they wished, had a single rule: “We all eat dinner

together.” It was a simple rule that shouldn’t have been hard

for anyone to follow, but indeed, quite a few so-called

geniuses had failed to do so and ended up leaving the island.

There are a lot of similarities between a genius and a person

with no common sense or decency.

Iria-san sat with two maids on either side of her. On her

left were Teruko-san and Rei-san. On her right, Akari-san and

Hikari-san. There was no way to distinguish between Akarisan

and Hikari-san, so I couldn’t tell which one was which.

Theoretically one would’ve been able to tell them apart by

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 7 1

their facial expressions and gestures and such, but for the

nonobservant type like myself, it was a challenge. Kunagisa

seemed to be able to distinguish between the two (which was

no mystery, since it was Kunagisa, after all), but depending on

the conversation, she seemed to have trouble distinguishing

who was Iria-san. Nobody seemed to mind.

“Now then, everybody raise your glasses… cheers!” she said

almost as if singing, her glass raised high in the air. Everyone

else, including myself, did likewise. But it bore mentioning

that my glass and Kunagisa’s glass were filled not with wine,

but with juice.

After all, we were underage.

A number of dishes were set beautifully around the table.

They were the proud masterpieces of chef extraordinaire

Sashirono Yayoi. I’ll start with the dish closest to me and go in

that order:

Crowned lamb roast, cappuccino-based sweet potato soup,

foie gras terrine with truffle gnocchi, steamed blue mussels,

Belgian eel simmered in green sauce, pickled herring, whale

meat sashimi, sauce-covered ravioli, ostrich meat carpaccio,

fruit salad, potato salad with egg, and, finally, oil-sautéed

mushrooms.

Yup, I was clueless.

Probably because Yayoi-san had created each dish

specifically to cater to the respective tastes of each guest, even

after hearing the names, I had no idea what I was eating. But

that was neither here nor there. It’s not like a name has that

profound of an influence on the thing itself.

I think.

After all this, there was said to be dessert as well. If you

thought about it, it was really a copious quantity of food. And

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 7 2

with Yayoi being the culinary maestro she was, the food was

so delicious that I all but entirely neglected to watch my

weight. Granted, Yayoi-san had apparently factored that into

her cooking.

“After factoring in the nutritional value, it’s still this

amazing. She really is a genius,” I muttered to myself more

than a couple of times.

Speaking of which, I had spoken to Yayoi-san a bit during

lunch. When I had gone to the dining hall, she happened to be

the only other person around, so I used the opportunity to

inquire about the popular rumors about her.

In other words, what was this secret power that allowed

her to make any dish better than any other chef?

That was the question.

Upon hearing it, Yayoi-san gave a curious smirk.

“I’m afraid reality doesn’t quite live up to the legends.

Unlike Himena-san, I don’t have any sort of wild superpowers.

Basically, it’s just effort and discipline.”

“Really?”

“Well, I suppose I can imagine what might have started

such a rumor. My senses of taste and smell are a little, well, a

lot stronger than the average person’s.”

She flicked out her tongue. “To give an anecdotal example,

ah, okay, like Helen Keller. She was blind, but they say she

could distinguish between people just by their smell. I’m a

little bit like that. My sense of smell isn’t quite that amazing,

but, for example…”

She took my arm and, without warning, licked the palm of

my hand. I never would have dreamed things would have

ended up like this, and I nearly let out a yelp, though

somehow I managed to suppress it.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 7 3

With her tongue still out, she gave an Einsteinish grin.

“You’ve got type AB blood, don’t you?” she said. “Negative,

right?”

Being so told, it occurred to me that she was right. A

public health doctor once told me, “You have an extremely

rare blood type.” So Yayoi-san was right for sure, but…

“You can really tell all that just by licking my skin?”

“Well, by licking your sweat, to be specific. My tongue can

distinguish between approximately twenty thousand flavors,

dividing them into twenty levels of intensity. My sense of

smell is probably around half that good, I suppose.” She tilted

her head thoughtfully. It was a cute mannerism. “I’m not

smart like Sonoyama-san; I’m terrible at art, unlike Ibuki-san;

I’m not particularly skilled with machines like Kunagisa-san; I

certainly don’t have special powers like Himena-san; and

there’s not much else I’m any good at, but I’ve had just this

one strong gift since I was a kid. I figured becoming a chef was

the only way to take advantage of it.”

Perfect taste, they call it.

It’s like the taste version of perfect pitch, except perfect

taste isn’t something you can acquire with training. In other

words, Sashirono Yayoi-san was, to just come out and say it,

one of the lucky few chosen by God. Among the highly

skilled, there are two types of people: those who are chosen,

and those who choose themselves—those who were born with

it, and those who work for it. Of course, Yayoi-san had

“discipline and effort,” but she was evidently the former type.

So the path of a chef was not really something she had

chosen. She had been born with this gift, and for that reason

had gone on to study gastronomy, travel to the West, and

polish her inborn talents even further.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 7 4

The idea of flavor ultimately stems from each individual’s

ability to judge taste. How well a person can utilize and take

advantage of flavor as if it was their own possession—that was

largely connected to one’s skill as a cook, and well reflected in

Yayoi-san’s own cooking.

Well, that’s the chopped logic of it, but it doesn’t mean

much practically. To put it a better way, Yayoi-san’s cooking

was damn good.

If you thought of the round table as a clock with Iria-san

sitting at twelve o’clock, then Sashirono Yayoi-san was at

three o’clock next to Teruko-san and Rei-san.

At four o’clock was Sakaki Shinya-san. As you would

expect from the man who had long been employed as

Kanami-san’s caretaker, he looked not the least bit

intimidated, and was actually rather stately-looking.

Then next to him sat Ibuki Kanami-san at the five o’clock

position. Behind her was her wheelchair, which she had likely

used to come to the dining room. She didn’t seem to be in a

particularly bad mood, but she didn’t look very cheerful

either.

At six o’clock was Kunagisa. This meant she was sitting

directly across from the mistress of the house, Akagami Iriasan.

That was more than enough to make me nervous, but

really that didn’t matter; to Kunagisa, the word nervous didn’t

even exist in the Japanese language.

Then in lucky seat number seven sat myself.

Next to me at eight o’clock sat Sonoyama Akane-san of the

Seven Fools. She was completely immersed in the devouring

of Yayoi-san’s cuisine. She had much more of an appetite than

you might expect. Of course, she was a human being before

she was a scholar—whether or not she would admit it

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 7 5

herself—and you can’t live if you don’t eat, but even if you

disregarded that, she was a serious eater. Even I felt satisfied

just watching her eat. It seemed to me that Yayoi-san must’ve

been really proud to see her devouring her food so delightedly.

Next to Akane-san at nine o’clock sat the fortune-telling

master, the one with ESP superpowers, Himena Maki-san. At

some point she had apparently changed clothes, and was now

adorned in an entirely different fashion than this morning. She

wore a halter-neck striped shirt with a pale, pink cardigan and

sheep-printed cropped pants. Her hair was up in twin

ponytails. Possibly because she noticed me looking at her, she

looked back at me with a strangely unpleasant sneer and sank

her teeth into some roast lamb. It was an expression that said,

“I know everything, but I’m not saying anything,” and it made

me wholly uncomfortable.

It never ends.

At ten and eleven o’clock sat Akari-san and Hikari-san.

Teruko-san was completely silent and mostly expressionless.

She just placed food in her mouth like it was a mechanical

process. For someone to be able to eat this food without any

sort of reaction, it made you wonder if she had any sense of

taste. In the face of the three sisters’ air of youthfulness, Reisan,

in contrast, had the look of a mature, uptight career

woman. I hadn’t heard her talk much, but judging from her

appearance, she seemed to be the strict type, and I had heard

the corroborating sob stories of Hikari-san several times by

now.

So there you have it.

That’s all twelve people.

Lucky number?

With a face like this?

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 7 6

Just babbling again. What kind of meaning lay in things

like that? I was very obviously standing out here. You could

even call me the black sheep. Then again, there had never

been a place where I didn’t stand out. Not Kobe, not

Houston, not Kyoto, and not even on this island.

In this wide world, there’s only one me.

Eh, whatever.

I like loneliness.

No bluff.

Even if I was bluffing.

“Oh by the way, if I can change the subject…” Iria-san said,

bringing the individual conversations that had been developing

up to now to an immediate halt. The power to direct the table

conversation lay in Iria-san’s hands alone. It was the selfish

privilege befitting an upper-class girl.

She continued, raising her voice.

“It seems there are already rumors floating around, so I’ll

go ahead and make the announcement. This is about the next

guest. The latest genius to grace this house.”

All eyes were on Iria-san. Well, all except for Kunagisa,

who continued to chow down on whale meat. To deliberately

try and capture that girl’s attention was quite a difficult task.

“I’d like to emphasize that our new guest is the possessor

of such extraordinary, glorious talent that it even bears

comparison to you all. I’d like very much to welcome this

person, so please cooperate, okay?”

Each person gave a personalized reaction. The part about

bearing comparison to everyone seemed to really shake things

up. With everyone seemingly restraining themselves, only the

very ordinary Shinya-san dared speak up.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 7 7

“Question. Just who is this person? I don’t really know a

whole lot just from the rumors I’ve heard, but they say it’s a

real jack-of-all-trades. Is that right?”

“You could say that. We’ve only met once before, but,

yeah, once was enough. This person is my hero.” She gazed

up, evidently deep in thought. “A truly heroic existence, to

me. Like a detective in a mystery novel or a monster in a

monster movie.”

A monster?

I could feel my eyebrows raise of their own accord. Iria-san

had just dropped a reference to monster movies, but was that

really an accurate description of this person? That wasn’t the

kind of vocabulary you typically used to describe a person, and

even if you did, it definitely wasn’t a compliment.

“That’s quite the hard sell. Sounds like we can expect quite

a bit from this individual,” Shinya-san said with a boisterous

chuckle. “I hear this person can do all sorts of things… such as

paint wonderfully and so on?”

“I’ve never seen it, but I wouldn’t be surprised. I imagine

something as simple as painting a picture shouldn’t be a

challenge.”

As you’d expect, this seemed to have wounded Kanamisan’s

pride. She looked a little bit—by which I mean

ridiculously—miffed.

“Might we possibly be graced with knowing the name of

this superior specimen, Iria-san?” Kanami-san said. Her tone

had a bite to it.

I had thought of this that morning as well, but Kanami-san

really did have a lot of pride. That’s not necessarily a bad

thing, but it’s not strictly a good thing either. Far be it for me

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 7 8

to cast aspersions about the way Kanami-san chose to live, but

to say the least, I knew I could never live like that.

Iria’s expression suggested that she didn’t understand why

Kanami-san was so mad (and in reality that probably was the

case), and she answered plainly, “Aikawa-san.”

Pure dumbfoundedness.

At this point, Kanami-san seemed like the stupid one.

“Owing to an extremely busy schedule, Aikawa-san will

only be staying here for three days, but everyone, please be

friendly. Aikawa-san is a big deal to me. You could even call it

love.”

Iria-san’s cheeks turned bright red. Seeing that childish

mannerism, her audience was thrown even further into

bewilderment. It felt like she could’ve made any demand,

however bossy, and everyone would’ve forgiven it. She

innately had that sort of air about her.

Probably her lineage to blame again.

“Even still, Aikawa…”

I’d never heard the name, ignorant as I was. I looked over

at Kunagisa to see her reaction, but she was still eating. When

that girl was focused on something, she was always like that.

More incorrigible than a child and harder to handle than an

animal. Well, then again, at least she knew how to sit in a

chair.

“Oh, I’m so looking forward to it. To think Aikawa-san is

coming again. I’ve asked so many times. It’s like a dream. Oh,

what if it really was a dream?” she said as if in a daze. Judging

from her current state, Iria-san must have been pretty headover-heels

for this Aikawa guy. It was like she was talking

about the man she had been in love with for years and years.

She spoke his name with great reverence.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 7 9

“Ah, speaking of which, Kunagisa-san,” she said, turning

the conversation toward Kunagisa. “You were going to leave

before then, isn’t that right?”

“Hmm? Oh, yup yup,” she responded. She never stopped

moving the chopsticks she held in her hands. The fact that she

was holding a chopstick in each hand was enough of a

testament to her bad table manners. “Yup, four more days.”

“That’s really too bad. It’s going to be such a great

opportunity. I’d really like you to meet Aikawa-san. There’s

really no way?”

“Afraid not. I’m from a world where once you’ve planned

something you can’t change it. They even call me the Living

Time Table. Ii-chan, too, of course.”

Don’t drag me into this, I thought. Coming to this island in

the first place was never part of my “time table.”

Iria nodded with a truly disappointed look on her face. “Is

that so? Say, could it be that you’re not having a good time

here? It doesn’t seem like you’ve left your room much.”

“I’m from a world where people don’t leave their rooms

much. But no, I’m having fun. Lots of fun. I can have fun

anywhere, anytime, all the way.”

Her words made me stiffen a bit. There was no

exaggeration in what she said. For someone who’s so

completely immersed in their own world, there’s never a time

that isn’t fun. And what of all other emotions? How tragic

must it be to always be having fun, no matter where you are?

That was something I already knew the answer to.

“Ah, is that so?” Iria shrugged. “But Kunagisa-san, surely

even you would find some value in meeting Aikawa-san.

Meeting a person like that, you’re bound to find some

inspiration.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 8 0

As if she had been waiting for the perfect timing, Kanamisan

broke into the conversation. “Being influenced by another

person is proof of one’s mediocrity. Of one’s impotence. How

ridiculous. I don’t know what kind of person this Aikawa is,

but I sincerely doubt there’s any need to meet him.”

“Now now, is that a fact?” Playing devil’s advocate with

Kanami-san was the obvious choice, Sonoyama Akane. “I

spent several years surrounded by the finest minds in the

world, and I know for a fact that if I hadn’t had that

experience, I wouldn’t be where I am today. You can better

yourself just by spending time with brilliant people.”

“The ER3? What a joke. You must be stupid. Why would

anyone ever want to bind themselves to such an organization?”

Kanami sneered.

“I don’t consider that I’m binding myself. Everyone is free

to move about as they please and help hone one another’s

skills.”

“ ‘Free?’ Don’t just throw that word around. An

organization with no restrictions isn’t an organization at all. In

the end, even you were just a member of the hierarchy, isn’t

that right? What a crock. I’ve been here on this island with

you for a while now, but I certainly don’t feel as if I’ve

become any more refined. If anything, my worth is

decreasing.”

They glared at each other. To act this way in front of a

whole group of people, they really were childish. I was a little

bit appalled.

The maids tried their best to mediate, but Iria-san had a

look of pure delight on her face as she watched the dueling

pair, so they retrained from stepping in. This kind of situation

wasn’t really my cup of tea. Meanwhile, Yayoi-san looked

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 8 1

fairly indifferent as well, while Maki-san looked entirely

unimpressed, and Shinya-san seemed to have written the

whole dispute off as an everyday occurrence. It was amazing

that not a single person there could stop them.

Ah, wait, there was someone.

Just one person.

“After all, Ibuki-san, humans are a colonial species. People

such as yourself who act like bums and expect special

treatment all ought to rethink their lifestyle, if you ask me,” I

said.

“I suppose that means you can’t function without being

surrounded by other people. People aren’t migratory fish, you

know. And I don’t expect special treatment. I just don’t put

myself down. I live honestly, and assess things as they really

are,” Kanami snapped.

“Hmm, I wonder.”

“ ‘Hmm, I wonder’? Ah, more vague questions. You think

you look clever by taking an ambiguous stance without ever

clearly stating your opinion. Yeah, real clever. ‘I wonder,’ ”

Kanami said.

“This is a little hard to listen to.”

A voice.

It was Kunagisa.

She pouted her lips out like a sulky kid and looked at

Kanami-san.

“This is hurting my ears, Kanami-chan, Akane-chan.”

In an instant, she had drawn everyone’s attention. Nobody

had expected Kunagisa, of all people, to say that.

I had had quite a few experiences with Kunagisa in the

past, so it wasn’t beyond imaginable. Kunagisa Tomo hated

watching people fight quite a bit. Considering her usual

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 8 2

happy-go-lucky attitude, it might have been a little

unexpected, but it did make some sense. She was a fun-loving

girl, which meant she didn’t like situations that weren’t fun.

The logic was as simple as that.

“I’m sorry. I went too far.” Somewhat surprisingly, it was

Kanami-san who apologized first. In turn, Akane-san couldn’t

help but acknowledge that Kanami-san, too, was a prominent

woman of respectable status.

“I was wrong, too,” she said, awkwardly avoiding eye

contact.

They both hung their heads and stared at the floor.

Though the atmosphere was still distinctly awkward, at least

the fiasco seemed to be over.

Until Maki-san ruined it completely.

“This is gonna get worse before it gets better,” she

muttered with an icy voice and audacious grin. Just what was

this fortune-teller chick trying to butt in with, now that things

had finally settled down? Meanwhile, Iria-san’s eyes were

twinkling with excitement.

“Is that a prophecy?” she asked. “What do you mean it’s

going to get worse before it gets better? This is so fascinating.

Will you tell us?”

“I won’t. I’m not saying anything. Nope.” As she spoke, she

cast a sideways glance in Kunagisa’s direction. “I’m not quite

so arrogant as to get the rest of the world involved.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I protested without

thinking. As for Kunagisa, she had already turned her full

attention back to nutritional intake. It was as though this

really was nothing more than a simple annoyance to her.

“Maki-san, what do you mean by that?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 8 3

“There’s no meaning. Just like there’s no meaning in your

actions. You know, you’re, wow, so you’re the kind of guy

who’ll get angry for the sake of a complete stranger, huh?

That’s not a very good thing. It’s not bad, per se, but it’s not

good.”

“Oh my, and why is that?” Iria-san said, stepping into our

conversation. Or rather, maybe I was the one on the sideline.

“I think it’s wonderful to be able to get angry on behalf of a

stranger. That’s not so common in the world nowadays.”

“That’s because people who can expose their emotions for

the sake of someone else are the same people who blame

things on others when something goes wrong. I despise people

like you.”

It had to be the first time in quite a while that someone

had spoken that harshly right to my face. Slowly, she brought

her glaring gaze to meet my eyes.

“You just let yourself get carried along by other people.

You’re the type of person who ignores traffic lights just

because everyone else is doing it. You’re an abominable

excuse for a human being. They often say ‘harmonize without

agreeing,’ but in your case, young man, it’s like you’re

agreeing without harmonizing. I won’t say that’s bad. I won’t

say anything as to that. One’s identity and one’s worth are not

always connected. A train that runs along a track is better than

a train that doesn’t. So I won’t say anything as to that. But I

hate people like you. I despise them. People like you always

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blame things on others, never acknowledging their own

responsibility.”

Just carried along with the flow.

To be sure, that is how I lived.

However…

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 8 4

“I don’t recall…”

I hated it.

Meeting Kunagisa, I had grown thoroughly repulsed by it.

“I don’t recall you telling me that, Himena Maki-san.”

“Oh, are you angry? Gee, your boiling point’s a lot lower

than I expected. Are you the type who has mood swings all

the time?”

“Ii…”

Eat me.

Go screw yourself.

Go screw yourself go screw yourself go screw yourself…

Go screw yourself, bitch…

“Ii-chan.”

Tug.

Kunagisa yanked on my sleeve.

“This isn’t worth getting angry about.”

Kunagisa Tomo.

“Okay.”

I felt a chill go through my body. The power drained from

my body. It was beyond weakness, closer to exhaustion. I

slumped in my chair.

“Sorry. I was just joking, ‘kay?” Maki-san said to Kunagisa

with a terribly sweet smile.

And so dinner that day was a bit of a disaster. Of course, the

two days prior hadn’t exactly gone off without a hitch either,

but the intelligence of this jack-of-all-trades seemed to have

shattered something. This Aikawa-san’s coming visit to the

island was becoming something to dread. Granted, I wouldn’t

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 8 5

be there when it happened, so I didn’t really have much to do

with it.

Nevertheless, I had no idea why Maki-san was digging into

me so much. Certainly I hadn’t made a great first impression

on her, but that couldn’t have been the only reason at this

point. It was obvious that she hated me, but that wasn’t

reason enough to be harping on me so aggressively like this.

The opposite of affection is not animosity, but apathy. If

she just didn’t like me, she wouldn’t go so far out of her way

to pick on me like this. Why, out of this entire group of

brilliant people, would Himena Maki specifically target a

boring, ordinary person like me? We didn’t have anything to

do with each other.

It was strange.

Brooding over the subject in my mind, I didn’t think for a

moment about Maki-san’s prophecy of the “worsening of

things.” If I had given it some thought, it’s not likely that

anything would’ve gone differently anyway, but looking back,

I can’t help but regret that a little.

I guess there was nothing I could have done about that,

though.

After all, only Maki-san could have regretted things before

they happened.

It was already past ten o’clock when I borrowed Kunagisa’s

bath to freshen up. Kunagisa sat in front of her PCs in the

revolving chair, but all three terminals were turned off. She

just wanted to spin. Must’ve had a strong stomach.

“You take a bath, too.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 8 6

“No.”

“I don’t care about tonight, but take one tomorrow.”

“No.”

“Tomorrow I’ll strip you down, tie your hands and feet,

and throw you in. If you don’t want that, you’d better do it

yourself.”

“Awww, what a drag.” She half rose out of her chair to

stretch. “I envy fish. They don’t ever have to take baths.

Hmm, but I wonder if they get cold in the winter. Oh oh oh,

by the way, have you heard this before, Ii-chan? So, like, let’s

say you’re keeping a fish in a fish tank. And say you gradually

raise the temperature of the tank. Like you raise it so

gradually that the fish doesn’t even notice. Eventually the

water gets so hot that it’s boiling, but the fish’s body has

gotten used to the gradual change, so it can go on swimming

without even noticing how hot the water is. It sounds like a

lie, but it’s for real. Now, Ii-chan, what lesson can we gather

from this?”

“That global warming isn’t a problem.”

“Ding ding ding!” She looked utterly amused. What a

peppy chick, I thought, then without warning, she completely

collapsed. Face-first, belly-down, without breaking her fall.

I flinched.

“Owww. That hurt.”

No doubt.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m hungry…”

“You just ate a freaking feast.”

“That doesn’t matter. I missed breakfast and lunch, so I

probably haven’t eaten enough. I slept all afternoon, so I don’t

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 8 7

have to sleep again until tomorrow, but I guess you really have

to make sure you sleep and eat properly.”

“Human bodies aren’t made for that kind of treatment.”

“I guess I’m not human then. Let’s get something to eat, Iichan.

Will you tie my hair up first?”

“I think Yayoi-san’s probably already back in her room. She

gets up early, so don’t you think she’s already sleeping?”

We couldn’t just go wake her up so she would make some

dinner. We had to remember that she was a guest, too.

“Hikari-chan is probably awake though. Hikari-chan’s

cooking is delicious, too, in a Hikari-chan kinda way. If Hikarichan’s

asleep, too, Ii-chan, you can make me something.”

“Why me?”

“Well, ‘cuz you look so a-meow-zing from behind when

you’re cooking.”

“Ehehehe,” she laughed naughtily, still facedown.

“Okay okay okay. Fine fine. Understood, Miss Tomo. First

I’ll tie that hair up, so get over here.”

“Oh me oh my.”

I tied her hair in a loose ponytail. Then we left her room,

heading for the living room.

“Ah, by the way, sorry about earlier.”

“About what? Ah, about the thing with Maki-chan. Yeah,

it’s okay. I’ll forgive you. But really, compared to the old days,

you’ve gotten soft. I didn’t think you’d let her off with just a

single comment like that. I wonder if living in Houston

repressed you or something.”

“Yeah, well, living in a desert like that for five years, your

beliefs start to change. I’m not sure if it matters that it was a

desert, though.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 8 8

“You should tell me about it sometime. What happened

over there and stuff.”

“You’ve changed a lot, too. Not so much on the outside,

but on the inside.”

“There’s nothing in this world that doesn’t change. It’s

panta rhei.”

“Handa Rei?”

“The cycling of all things… Ii-chan, you’re supposed to be

smart, so why don’t you know anything?”

“I just have a bad memory. All I want is an average one,

really.” Just enough of one so that I wouldn’t forget the fun

times.

Just enough of one so that I could realize the world is full

of good things, too.

“Ah, Akari-chan spotted,” Kunagisa said, and charged

down the hallway. I looked to see that, indeed, Akari-san was

there. Or really, at this distance there was no way I could tell

whether it was Akari-san or Hikari-san. It was also possible

that it was Teruko-san with her glasses removed. But if

Kunagisa said it was Akari-san, it was most likely her.

By the time I reached them, Kunagisa and Akari-san had

already exchanged a few words. Kunagisa returned to my side

and Akari-san continued down the hall in the opposite

direction. I wondered about her. She must have had work left

to do, even at this hour. If that was the case, she really was

going above and beyond.

“What did you talk about?”

“She says Hikari-chan’s in the living room.”

“Oh yeah? That’s convenient.”

Of course, not everything in the world goes so smoothly.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 8 9

When we arrived in the living room, not only Hikari-san,

but also Shinya-san and my arch-nemesis Himena Maki-san

were there. The three of them sat on a horseshoe-shaped sofa,

engaged in lighthearted discussion. On the table were some

glasses and alcohol, plus some cheese on a big plate prepared

as a snack. Hikari-san promptly noticed our presence and

called out with a raised hand, “Ah, Tomo-san!” Having been

spotted, there was nothing we could do. We walked over and

joined them on the sofa.

Awkwardly, Kunagisa quickly snapped up the seat next to

Hikari-san, forcing me to sit next to Maki-san. All the same, I

couldn’t bear the thought of turning tail and running now. It

was dishonorable to flee in the face of the enemy. But Makisan,

seeming to see right through me, greeted me with a

wicked expression. “Welcome to my club,” she said boastfully.

“Sorry about before. I guess I hit a touchy subject,” she

apologized insincerely. “Really, I’m sorry. Anybody would get

mad about such a sensitive subject.”

“It wasn’t a particularly sensitive subject.”

“Oh, it was. It was so pitiful.” She sneered at me. Might

she have been drunk? No, she was like this all the time. In

fact, she was probably more pleasant when drunk. She slugged

down her wine in one gulp, then thrust her glass at me.

“Now you drink, too, boy. Alcohol is good, you know. You

forget all the bad things.”

“There’s nothing so bad I want to forget.”

“And there’s nothing so good you want to remember,” she

giggled. “I don’t think your poor memory is to blame for not

having any happy memories. There are few happy things in

your life, and few sad things. There’s not much of anything at

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 9 0

all. It’s all empty. It’s an emptiness scarier than darkness.

Ahahaha. Isn’t life fun?”

Retrocognition, telepathy.

It seemed the advertisements about her weren’t just

baloney. She was a damn clairvoyant.

“Give me a break, Maki-san. This is just bullying.”

“Yup. I’m bullying you. Now drink up.”

“I don’t do alcohol. I’m underage.”

“How by-the-book of you. Oh dear, you’re being so cold.

Oh, Ii-chan, you’re so cool! Is that what you want to hear?

That’s weird. I should call you the Boy Who’s Cold Even in

the Summer.”

She put her glass back in front of her with a bored

expression on her face.

Apparently quite starving, Kunagisa scarfed down the

cheese appetizer. She ate with two hands, displaying terrible

manners. Of course, knowing that it would cause no harm in

this situation, it was hard to care about stuff like that.

“It’s supreme, Valencay, and Maroille cheese,” Hikari-san

explained sweetly. Apparently they were all good cheeses to

have with wine. Trying a single piece, I found that it was

indeed delicious, but probably only Kunagisa would be able to

stand a whole lot of it without even so much as some water.

“How did it go with Kanami?” Shinya-san asked me after a

while, cheese in hand. He seemed fairly interested. “Did the

modeling go well?”

“Eh, I suppose. There were no problems, anyway.”

“She’s got a pretty foul personality, eh?” He spoke without

euphemism, about his own boss, no less.

“Oh no, she doesn’t—”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 9 1

“Is that so? Well, at least I’ve never met a woman with a

worse personality than that.”

I had.

She was sitting right next to me, drinking up.

“No, she was fine, really… Oh, but she did smash one of

her pictures all of a sudden, and that was surprising.”

He smirked.

“Oh, that… yeah, yeah. When I got back to the atelier, she

was all, ‘Shinya-san, dispose of this garbage.’ I was like, ‘Who

are you, Picasso?’ Sorry about that. That’s just her thing.

Don’t pay any attention to it. That woman’s seen quite a bit

of success without exerting much effort, so she’s very

obstinate. She can’t live without acting like a big shot.”

“Her ‘thing’?”

“Yeah, you know. If she acts like that, she looks like a

world-class artist, don’t you think? Didn’t she say all sorts of

artisty things to you? Sort of snooty things? That’s how she is,

you see.”

“Well, but, that’s her true nature, right? I mean… I

thought it was.”

“Oh, of course. It’s unquestionably her true nature. But she

doesn’t have to say that kind of stuff, now, does she? If she

were a real artist, she wouldn’t talk like that. Kanami is a

genius, to be sure, but she’s miles away from being an artist.

She’s just giving herself an image. At least, that’s what I think.

I’d appreciate it if she would peel away the façade, but you

know how it is.” He looked a little sad. “Seriously,” he

continued, taking a sip of wine. As he wandered slightly off

topic, the glass of wine suited him quite well. It was a little

enviable.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 9 2

“That’s the reason I asked you to be her model, too. She

doesn’t do many portraits, you see.”

“Oh yeah? But she was saying she doesn’t choose her

subjects.”

“Well, she doesn’t, but… It’s a taste issue. She hates

people. No matter how she draws them, they complain, you

see. Plus, you know, because she used to be blind, and now

her legs are bad, and above all else she has that kind of

personality, she doesn’t get along well with anyone.”

“That’s how geniuses are.”

The only genius I’d ever heard of who was at all good with

human relationships was Gauss.

People like Michelangelo were all supposedly widely

disliked. But with Michelangelo, it was because he didn’t like

anybody to begin with.

“You don’t have to be a genius to be socially awkward,”

Maki-san interjected with a phony innocent expression.

Ah, indeed.

“That woman has a lot of pride about having reached

where she is on her own. So it’s no wonder she doesn’t get

along with Sonoyama-san.”

Indeed, Akane-san, who had honed her talents in a group

atmosphere at the ER3 system, and Kanami-san, who was a

raging individualist, were practically polar opposites. It was

only natural that they never hit it off.

“It was I who taught art to Kanami-san,” Shinya-san said.

“Her eyes got better, and… you have to understand, back then

she had nothing. No family, no special knowledge to speak of.

So I gave her a brush. I was only trying to comfort her, but

just a month later, she had surpassed me.”

“So you’re an artist, too?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 9 3

I hadn’t heard that.

He shrugged his right shoulder, a little embarrassed.

“After Kanami-san surpassed me, I quit. When Verrocchio

realized da Vinci had surpassed him, he broke his own

paintbrush. I, too, grew to understand his feelings in that

moment. With this person of unbelievable talent right next to

me all the time, there’s no need for me to paint pictures.”

That morning, Shinya-san had told me we were alike. I

didn’t know what he meant until now.

The Sakaki Shinya relative to Ibuki Kanami. It was just like

me relative to Kunagisa Tomo. Though he spoke badly of her,

it was clear to me now that Shinya-san had unconditional

affection for Kanami-san.

“So you’re the kind of guy who does everything for other

people, too, eh, Shinya-san?” Maki-san said, as if reading my

mind (what an analogy). “Of course in Shinya-san’s case,

there’s a charm to it, unlike with some people.”

“And why’s that?”

“He doesn’t go around blaming others.”

She was going to bring me down blow by blow.

“Um, hey hey…” Hikari-san interjected with a worried

look. “Who wants something to drink?”

“Some kind of soda would be good.”

“Certainly, right away.”

She pulled a small bottle of ginger ale out of the living

room fridge and quickly returned. With a bright smile, she

placed it beside me.

“Please enjoy.”

She really was quite the hard worker. I thought it would be

rude to keep fighting like this in front of her, so I forced my

wound-up nerves to relax.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 9 4

Gah, there I go blaming things on others.

Damn…

Maki-san had me in the palm of her hand.

“Hikari-chan, gimme a drink, too,” Kunagisa said.

“Certainly!” She went over to Kunagisa with the ginger ale.

“Come to think of it, you’re underage as well, isn’t that

right, Kunagisa-chan?” Maki-san said. “But it’s okay, isn’t it?

How about it? Just one drink.”

“Please don’t encourage her.”

“My my, playing guardian, are we?” Maki-san sneered. “Ah,

how wonderful it must be to be young.”

“But you’re still young as well.”

“No, I’m already twenty-nine.” She spoke as if it were no

big deal, but I was a little surprised. She was always dressed

like such a kid, I figured she had to be about the same age as

Iria-san.

“Wow. So that means you’re the same age as Kanami,”

Shinya-san said. “Then Himena-san, you are still young. You

know, I’m already thirty-two years old. Once you pass thirty,

you really start to feel your age. You get winded easily and

such.”

“Hikari-san, how old are you?” I took the chance to ask.

“I’m twenty-seven.”

“So then, Akari-san is twenty-seven, too?”

“Yup. We’re triplets, after all.”

Twenty-seven… I repeated the number a few times in my

head. Twenty-seven years old. Akari-san and Hikari-san, both

twenty-seven. Maybe this is rude of me, but they really didn’t

look like twenty-seven. I almost wondered if there was some

sort of age-stopping mystery air flowing through the island.

Nah, not likely.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 9 5

This wasn’t Neverland.

“Akane-chan is thirty, right? And I think Yayoi-chan is

about thirty as well. Boy, when you sit down and think about

it, everyone sure is young. Iria-chan must really like young,

female geniuses.”

“Pretty lousy hobby, if you ask me.”

Kunagisa nodded in agreement as she crammed her face

with cheese. Apparently having picked up a spicy piece, she

immediately went for the ginger ale and chugged it, but it

looked as if it went down the wrong pipe, and she released a

barrage of coughs. What the hell was she doing?

Shinya-san let out a sigh. “I thought if I brought Kanami

here to cohabitate with other people, she might change a

little. Kind of like when you send a truant kid off to camp. But

this strategy seems to have been off the mark. It was kind of

like a last resort. At this point, she’ll probably be living like

that for the rest of her life.”

Misunderstood by everyone.

Not expecting anyone to understand.

Not relying on anyone but herself.

Eating away at herself all the while.

“Well, that’s one way to live.”

“Look who’s talking.”

I don’t think I even have to mention whose line that was.

“Uh, speaking of which, Maki-san, why are you here on the

island?” Shinya-san said. “I’ve been wondering for a while. It’s

not just a vacation, is it?”

“It is. This place is a sweet deal. You get to live for free,

and you even get money for it. It’s Xanadu. If I use the Net, I

can even still do fortune-telling. It’s a world of convenience.

Nonstop good times.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 9 6

What a crappy excuse for an adult.

And pretty damn crappy, at that.

“I don’t recall hearing your story,” Maki-san said, breaking

my silence. “Why are you on this island then? And please don’t

tell me something like you came here just because Kunagisachan

said she was going.”

Don’t act like you don’t know, bitch.

Seriously, why was she picking on me like that? Maybe she

was really just making fun of me with no objective or reason

whatsoever.

It wasn’t unthinkable.

“Wrong,” she said, then looked over at Kunagisa.

“Fine, assuming guys like you don’t matter anyway, why is

Kunagisa-chan here?”

“Just a whim, just a whim. I don’t go making reasons for

every little thing I do.”

“I wonder.” Maki-san gave a suspicious grin. I didn’t know

what the deal with her personality was, but she seemed to be

getting along with everyone besides me rather well, including

Kunagisa.

“She’s clever, unlike you.”

“Ah, getting sick of this? Getting tense? Hehehe, but I

won’t stop. I’m gonna keep playing with you until I’m bored

of it.”

She wore an absolutely sadistic smile.

I felt like captured game.

“Telepathy, eh? Amazing as usual, Himena-san, but lay off

him,” Shinya-san cut in. “You’ve chased a whole lot of brilliant

people off this island doing that. He’ll be leaving soon enough

as it is, so there’s no need to send him home any faster, right?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 9 7

“Everyone I try to have fun with hates me. It’s

discrimination against people with superpowers, I tell you.”

Superpowers…

They talked about it like it was an everyday thing, but did

such a thing really exist? Indeed, at the ER3 system, as a

“comprehensive” research center, they had even conducted

advanced psychological research relating to super abilities.

Psychokinesis, ESP, DOP, levitation, and teleportation. I had

seen any number of papers on the inexplicable, unobservable

subject in my time in the ER3 program, and even met a

person who claimed it was for real (though he was a phony).

But all I had concluded was that no matter how you

thought about it, that stuff was a bunch of bull. None of those

papers really explained anything, despite how hard they tried

to arbitrarily cram facts into conclusions.

It was what they called “dry love.” The dry love-filled

thesis papers of these phony scientists were, to be fair,

amusing in their own right, but that’s all they were. They

certainly didn’t have what it took to convince someone of

anything.

“That’s just because you have a narrow mind.”

“Have you ever heard of the word privacy?”

“It’s not my fault. I see what I see and I hear what I hear.

And by the way, trying to run away is futile. No matter where

you go, I’ll know exactly where you are.”

“So, you have remote viewing and supersensitive hearing

powers, too!” Kunagisa said. “I know a lot of people with

special powers, but this is the first time I’ve ever met someone

with so many. Multimulti. Amazing.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 9 8

Despite knowing that our pasts, futures, and minds were

all possibly being read right now, Kunagisa was without a care

in the world. Or maybe she didn’t have any secrets to keep.

“I really wanted psychokinesis, actually, but I ended up

gravitating toward ESP for some reason. Too bad… I mean,

doesn’t teleportation seem so convenient?”

Psychokinesis—referred to as PK—and ESP were

academically defined as two completely different abilities. In

mainstream metapsychology, it’s often said that the existence

of ESP can now be proven, though the same cannot be said

about PK. This is because the idea of PK is something

completely inhuman, while ESP is simply an extension of

actual human senses.

“Fortune-telling is about all I can do with just ESP. It’s not

such a useful ability,” Maki-san said with a sigh.

Certainly there wasn’t much she could have done apart

from fortune-telling, but I still felt skeptical about the whole

idea.

“Maki-san, can you prove that you have these special

powers?”

“I don’t think I need to. How would you, for example,

prove that you are you? Would you show us your driver’s

license? Would you be convinced if I had a Superpowers

License? It doesn’t matter anyway. Whether you think it’s

true or think it’s a lie or think it’s something else, that doesn’t

affect anything anyway. Just like my knowing everything

doesn’t change anything.”

“Mmm, I wonder.”

“You sure have a lot of doubt. Ah, okay, how about I give

you your fortune again?” she said out of the blue, grinning at

me.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 9 9

Damn, I hadn’t seen this coming.

“You deceived me the first time, after all. Yeah, let’s do it.

It’s a good opportunity for you. I almost never do fortunetellings

for free.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Quick answer. You really hate me, huh? Hehehe, my

mentor always taught me to ‘push people’s hatred onward,’ so

that’s what I do.”

“I can’t help but wonder if your mentor meant something

else.”

“You’re quite a liar, aren’t you?” She began her fortunetelling,

regardless of what I had said.

“You don’t like showing your emotions, but you don’t like

controlling them either, so you have many regrets. Even

though you let yourself get pushed around by other people’s

opinions, you’re quite independent. When faced with a

challenge, you run away without deliberating, but you’re not

dumb. And, you don’t like competition. Sound about right?

“Is that what you people call a ‘cold reading’?” I shot back.

“You could’ve just said anything. Those are all things that hold

true for any person, to some extent.”

“Is that so? Hmm, maybe. Then let’s talk about your

relationship with Kunagisa-chan. What we call a compatibility

reading. Hmm, both you and Kunagisa-chan are the type who

don’t need friends. Yet for some reason you stick together.

And the reason for that is? Oh my, this part is fairly skewed.

You stay by her side because you’re jealous of her. And while

you’re jealous of her ability to express herself freely, she

somehow looks unhappy, regardless of whether or not she

really is. You see this girl who has everything you want and

can do all the things you can’t do, yet she is still, for some

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 0 0

reason, unhappy, and that makes you feel better. That makes

you feel like it doesn’t matter if you can’t get what you want.”

“Really?” Kunagisa gave me a confused look. Whether it

was true or not, it wasn’t okay to say such a thing right in

front of Kunagisa.

I shook my head. “No, Maki-san, I think you’ve got me all

wrong. I’m not such a complicated guy. I’m simple as could

be.”

“Yeah, well, maybe, maybe not.”

“Say, Maki-chan,” Kunagisa said, moving closer to her. “If

that’s really the case, then why do I spend time with Ii-chan?”

“Sorry, but I can’t seem to read your mind or past.” Makisan

gave a shrug. “Occasionally I meet someone like that. I

guess it’s a compatibility issue or something, but the aura

surrounding them is very ambiguous and hard to decipher. It’s

like they’re in the dark, and it’s a little unsettling. It puts me

in a bad mood.”

So maybe she was just venting on me.

How awful.

“Himena-san, in light of the occasion. I’ll go ahead and ask

a question, too. How does it feel to be able to see the future

and read people’s minds and such?” Shinya-san said. “I’m just

curious.”

“Hmm. That’s like asking how things look to spiders with

their eight eyes. To attempt a simple explanation, it’s like

watching TV. It’s like the entire room is covered with TVs,

and I don’t have a remote. I can’t turn them off, and I can’t

change the channels, so all I can do is watch. It’s like having a

few more brains than regular people, if you can imagine that.”

I couldn’t.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 0 1

“Now, what’s his face over there got us a little off-topic,

Kunagisa-chan, but I still haven’t heard why you came to this

island.”

“It was just on a whim. I tell you.”

“No. I may not be able to read you, but I know that’s not

why.”

Kunagisa wheezed out a strange sigh. She seemed a little

troubled. I wasn’t a big fan of Maki-san’s way of posing the

question, but to be honest, I had been wondering about it

myself. For what reason had Kunagisa, the ultimate shut-in

with no equal, been compelled to travel all the way out here

to Wet Crow’s Feather Island?

“Okay, I’ll tell you,” she finally said with a piece of cheese

on her tongue. “I’m interested in an incident that took place

here a long time ago.”

But I didn’t get the chance to learn any more. Just as I was

about to ask, “What do you mean, ‘incident’?” I bit down on

my tongue, hard. Thus, I was unable to get the words out. But

even if I miraculously had somehow, it never would’ve

reached Kunagisa’s ears, nor anyone else’s ears, including my

own.

It would have been drowned out by the other noise.

The shaking.

I soon realized it was an earthquake.

“Gah!” Shinya-san uttered.

“Everyone, please, stay calm!” urged Hikari-san, whose

profession demanded that she remain cool no matter what

happened.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 0 2

Maki-san, who looked as if she had been expecting the

earthquake all along, reclined on the couch without a glint of

worry.

I tried to recall what I had learned about earthquakes back

in my first year of junior high school, when I was still in Japan.

Supposedly they would start with small tremors, and then get

bigger and bigger. I couldn’t quite recall which were S waves

and which were P waves, or figure out which were horizontal

and which were vertical tremors, but that didn’t matter.

At any rate, the strength of the shaking had jumped a few

levels. In a panic, I shoved Kunagisa—whose expression said “I

have no idea what’s going on”—onto the sofa and threw

myself on top of her. There was a chandelier right above her.

If that were to fall, she wouldn’t stand a chance of survival

with that tiny stature of hers. That was my thinking at the

time, anyway.

But my efforts seemed to have been in vain, because not a

moment later, the shaking died down. Of course, when I say

“not a moment later,” I mean in terms of real time. To me, it

felt only slightly less dragging and terrible than five minutes

with your hand on a stove.

In reality, the shaking had probably lasted for less than ten

seconds.

“Is it over?” I asked, still on top of Kunagisa.

“Yeah.” Maki-san answered. It was the word of a prophet,

and probably trustworthy. Meanwhile, Kunagisa groaned with

her face buried in the sofa, so I got off her for the time being.

“An earthquake… It was pretty big, too. I wonder what it

rated on the scale,” Shinya-san said, looking around the room.

The glasses and bottles on the table had fallen, and Hikari-san

had already reflexively begun to clean.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 0 3

“Pardon me, Hikari-san. I’m going to borrow the phone.

I’m worried about Kanami.” He pointed to the house phone.

Hikari-san nodded. He headed to the white phone by the

cabinet.

“Hikari-san, do you have a radio or something?” I said. “I

want to check the earthquake’s level. Oh, Tomo, could you

look it up on the Internet?”

“Well, there’s probably already been a breaking news

bulletin. We’re technically in Kyoto right now, right? Oh,

wait, is that wrong?”

“It was a level 3 or 4. I can’t quite pinpoint the epicenter,

but it’s probably around Maizuru, where the level would be at

5,” Maki-san said quite matter-of-factly. “And it seems like

there weren’t many injuries, even in urban areas.”

“How do you know?” Perhaps it was inelegant of me to

pose such a question, but it just felt like the natural thing to

say.

She let out a big sigh before answering. “It’s like I’ve been

telling you, I just know. You may be smart, but you sure are

slow. Don’t have much of a memory either, it would seem.

Hey wait, doesn’t that make you stupid? Anyway, to use an

expression, I can see these things clear as day. Ibuki-san and

the others are all fine.”

“Ah, remote viewing and superhearing, was it?”

Distance wasn’t a factor for her. She could technically

watch TV somewhere on the other side of the ocean, and

even predict what would appear next. Complex ESP.

But even if she had just been making all of this up, there

was no way to check. But it was probably true that the

mansion hadn’t suffered much damage.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 0 4

Shinya-san returned from the phone. “Kanami’s fine,” he

said. “She says she’s in the atelier. Some paint cans fell off the

shelf. It sounds like a big hassle, but at least she’s not hurt.”

“Should you go over there?”

He was her caretaker after all, and even if he hadn’t been,

he must’ve been worried about her, seeing as she couldn’t

walk.

“Nah, no need,” he said with a shrug. “She would probably

get ticked off if I did.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because she told me not to come,” he said with a pained

expression of humility. “She says she’s working right now. In

fact, she’s working on your portrait. Sounds like she’s going to

turn it into a real masterpiece, so I’d better not bother her.”

“Even with Ibuki-san’s talent, there’s no hope if she used

such a terrible model,” Maki-san said.

“You really hate me, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded.

Geez.

Well, whatever. That’s how life had always gone for me

anyway.

I looked over at Hikari-san.

“Does this happen here a lot? Earthquakes, I mean.”

“Not a lot, really. Shinya-san, you’ve been through a few,

right?”

“Yes, but this one was unusually big.”

“I wonder if any furniture fell over. I’m a little worried.”

“If you’re going to fix things up, I’ll help.”

“No, it wouldn’t be right. Tomorrow we’ll deal with it

depending on Rei-san’s orders.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 0 5

She flashed a sweet smile. If she were a mother, her kids

would grow up proper for sure. If we hadn’t met in this kind

of place under these kinds of circumstances, I definitely

would’ve fallen for her. Or at least, I thought I would. It was

never going to happen, but I thought so.

“Teehee. That was my first earthquake in a while,”

Kunagisa mumbled, tossing her blue hair around as she finally

got up from the sofa. “I wonder if my computers are all right.

They should be. If the epicenter was in Maizuru, the mansion

should be okay, too. Boy, this takes me back to the Great

Hanshin quake. Say, Ii-chan, you were already in Houston in

those days, right?”

“Yup. For sure.”

I vaguely remembered seeing something about it on the

news back in my tiny room in America.

“That was a really tough time for me. I was still in Kobe

back then. Most of my computers crashed permanently. I was

so startled.”

Was “startled” really the most appropriate word to describe

living through that disaster?

“So shouldn’t you be worried about your computers? You

must be fully crammed with cheese by now. Let’s go back to

your room already.”

It seemed like the time was right, so I decided to leave the

living room. I didn’t trust that I had the self-control to stay

cool if I had to talk to Maki-san anymore. It seemed like a

good time to split.

As if able to read my every thought, Maki-san’s gaze

burned a hole through my back, and it took every ounce of

willpower in my body to ignore her. I pulled Kunagisa by the

arm and took her back to her room.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 0 6

The three PC’s (I mean two PCs and one workstation) in

her room remained securely situated in the computer rack,

and the room had suffered no other damage.

Kunagisa let out a big yawn and stretched.

“Let’s turn in already. Having a full stomach really makes

you sleepy, huh? Ii-chan, undo my hair.”

“Do it yourself, will you?”

“Come on, it’s hard to undo a ponytail by myself. I’m not

flexible. It’s not that I can’t do it, but I’ll start aching. I’ve

broken bones that way, y’know.”

“I get it, I get it. You’re really adorable, you know that?”

I removed the band from her hair and ran a comb through

it. She let out a naughty little giggle. Once I was finished, she

dove into bed. She sunk herself into the mattress and rolled

around joyously.

“Take off that coat. How many times do I have to tell you?

And aren’t you hot?”

“This coat has special memories attached, so no dice.”

What memories? Even our dear fortune-teller, Himena

Maki, couldn’t read Kunagisa’s past. Maybe it had something

to do what that “team.”

“Anyway, Ii-chan, Kanami-chan and Akane-chan are pretty

terrible, but you and Maki-chan don’t seem to be on the best

of terms either.”

“Well, it’s more like she harasses me for no reason,” I said,

thinking about how similar this was to what Kanami-san had

said. “I don’t have any problems with her in particular.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. You’re not aggressive enough to hate or

resent people. At the very worst, you get miffed, isn’t that

right?”

“You think? That’s interesting.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 0 7

“Just joking,” she snickered. “But Ii-chan, you’ve really

never fallen in love with someone before, have you?”

“Nope.”

“I love that about you.”

Snicker snicker.

Strange. She was being weirdly feisty. I wondered if maybe

that ginger ale had really been wine. I’d never seen her drunk

before, so I couldn’t imagine what she would be like.

“By the way, Tomo.”

“Vat eez eet?”

“Do you have any special powers?”

“Hmm… if I did, I wouldn’t mind at all,” she said with a

big grin. “I don’t really want any, but one can always dream.

It’s better for Santa Claus to exist than for him not to, right?

It’s just like that.”

“That’s an odd point of view.”

Even if she had special powers, she wouldn’t mind.

Hmm, indeed. That was surprisingly insightful. Whether

you had such abilities or not, it wouldn’t have much of an

effect on your daily life. Of course, now was a bit of an

exception.

Because we were on this island?

Because we were on this island.

I’m gonna go back to my room and turn in, too. See ya

tomorrow. If you’re planning to sleep now, I’ll come wake you

tomorrow, so let’s have breakfast together.”

“Hey, Ii-chan,” she called to me, still lying face-up on her

bed. “Let’s fool around.” She beckoned to me.

I paused, just for a second. “No,” I said.

“Weirdo. Good for nothing. Coward! Chicken pot pie!”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 0 8

Yeah, yeah. I shut the door, went downstairs, and headed

to my room. It would have been truly awful to run into Makisan

in the hallway or something, but luckily no such incident

occurred. Perhaps she was still busy chatting it up with

Shinya-san.

I found a key sticking out of the door to my room. Maybe

it shouldn’t have been a surprise, seeing as it was supposed to

be a storage room, but I couldn’t help wondering about being

trapped inside if someone were to turn the key while I was

asleep. There was no way I could reach the window even if I

stood on the chair, so it really would be like solitary

confinement. Then again, there was nothing anyone could

gain by locking me up, so it was probably just excessive worry.

I entered the room, curled up on my futon, and stared at

the ceiling in thought.

I was of course thinking about what Maki-san had said

earlier.

Oh my, this part is fairly skewed. You stay by her side because

you’re jealous of her. And while you’re jealous of her ability to

express herself freely, she somehow looks unhappy, regardless of

whether or not she really is. You see this girl who has everything you

want and can do all the things you can’t do, yet she is still, for some

reason, unhappy, and that makes you feel better. That makes you feel

like it doesn’t matter if you can’t get what you want.

“Ha!”

Dammit.

“She’s exactly right.”

Akane-san of the Seven Fools had described Kunagisa and I

as a codependent pair, but really, Maki-san’s opinion was

closer to the truth.

To me, Kunagisa Tomo represented the thing I most

wanted to be.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 0 9

No, that wasn’t it. That wasn’t it. To me, she was…

She was…

“She was what?”

The reason I chose a university in Kyoto rather than Kobe

was because she had moved to Kyoto. I also couldn’t deny

that she was one of the reasons I left Houston.

Why had I done all that?

As Maki-san had said, I wasn’t aggressive enough to have

feelings like love or hate. Even if someone were to bother me,

it was a feeling no different from being annoyed when it rains.

No matter how much disdain Maki-san had for me, no matter

how many malicious comments Kanami-san spit at me, no

emotion would ever build up inside me.

I couldn’t help but wonder.

Was I really human?

I didn’t understand other people’s feelings at all.

If they really existed.

If superpowers like the ones Maki-san claimed to use really

existed, perhaps I wanted some myself.

“Nah, I don’t need that,” I reconsidered.

If I could understand people’s feelings, it would just make

life all the more annoying. I wasn’t looking for a life with an

open Pandora’s box. I didn’t have the nerve for it.

“I’m just babbling nonsense here, dammit.”

I hate vacation. I just end up thinking too much. Well, I

don’t know if it’s really too much, but they’re the kind of

thoughts that can only lead to one’s downfall.

Four more days.

I could be patient.

I didn’t hate being patient.

Or at least, I was used to it.

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Suffering and pain.

I was used to these things.

“Still, they don’t feel too good.”

Damn, I wanted to return to my peaceful life on the other

side of the sea, I thought as I fell into the night.

But the following day I would realize that these past three

days had been plenty peaceful.

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There’s an up higher than up,

but at the very top, down is all there is.

It was a dreadful sight.

If I were to compare it to something, let’s see, yeah, okay.

Gruber Norbert’s painting The River. The same sort of creepy,

marble-colored river ran through the middle of Kanami’s

atelier, dividing it in half.

Seemingly due to the previous night’s earthquake, cans of

paint lay scattered around the room, and the simple, iron-pole

shelf had fallen over as well. The earthquake had caused the

shelf to tip, spilling cans everywhere, their contents dumped

on the floor, and this “river” was the result. It was a feasible

theory, and that’s no doubt how it had happened.

But while this “river” was a bizarre enough spectacle on its

own, the real issue lay on the opposite “riverbank.” It was

beyond imagination or speculation, and couldn’t be written off

as the earthquake’s doing. An earthquake capable of this

wouldn’t be found on this Earth.

The facedown body of a person lay on the floor, with a

noticeable vacancy from the neck up.

A headless corpse.

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A beheaded corpse.

It didn’t matter much what words you chose to describe it;

it was what it was.

This body with the missing head was wearing the same

dress Kanami-san had been wearing the previous day. That

exquisite-looking dress that Kanami-san had boasted would

never get dirty while she was painting was now stained redblack

with blood. It didn’t look wearable anymore.

What’s more, there was no longer anyone to wear it.

Or let’s be more specific.

The wearer was no longer alive.

“This is… grotesque,” I uttered reflexively. It went without

saying, but the words just came out.

The room smelled like paint thinner.

Next to Kanami-san’s fallen body sat an overturned

wheelchair and a single canvas. It was far away so I wasn’t

sure, but the painting appeared to have been my portrait.

It was beautiful, a masterwork. Even from this distance,

separated by the river, I could tell. I felt the shock with my

body, not with my mind. In some ways it was more disturbing

than the sight of the headless body.

I recalled what Kanami-san had said the previous day. It’s

not art if you get to pick who looks at it.

Point taken. With this picture, I had no complaints.

Without a doubt, Ibuki Kanami was a genius.

To the point that it made me tremble.

And this made her death all the more devastating. It had

been a long time since I had felt devastated by anything, but I

was truly devastated by this.

By the death of Kanami-san.

The death of Ibuki Kanami.

“Why?”

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Yes, Ibuki Kanami was dead.

I mean, who could stay alive after their head’s been

chopped off? Even Rasputin couldn’t have survived a

decapitation. And Kanami-san was just a physically normal

human being.

“Well, we shouldn’t just leave her like this,” I said, breaking

everyone’s silence. I looked over at Kunagisa. Her lower lip

stuck out dubiously, as if she had noticed something strange

about Kanami-san’s body. She appeared skeptical about

something. But now probably wasn’t the time to be thinking

about such things. If I had to give a reason for each and every

one of Kunagisa’s actions, I would surely die.

As I tried to take a step forward, she tugged at my arm.

“Ii-chan, wait a sec.”

“Huh? Why?”

“The paint isn’t dry yet.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.”

Crouching down and checking with the tip of my finger, I

found that she was right. My middle finger turned marblecolored.

“But now isn’t really the time to worry about things like

that.”

There was a cut-up dead body right in front of us. To

worry about dirtying your shoes at a time like this was beyond

trivial.

“Hey, I said wait!” she said. Then, before I knew what she

was getting at, she took off that black coat of hers and tossed

it right in the middle of the river of paint. It was like a

stepping-stone in the river.

“Wasn’t that your precious coat?”

“Its time had come.”

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I tried to say something about her just tossing her

memories off like they were nothing, but as she had said,

there was a bigger issue at hand right now. Besides, what’s

done is done. With little recourse, I jumped to the coat, then

to the other side of the river.

I groaned.

It had been quite awhile since I’d last seen a headless body.

I removed my sweatshirt and placed it over Kanami-san’s

upper body.

I looked back toward the door, where everyone was

standing, and slowly shook my head.

There was no point using words.

“Everyone,” Iria finally said, “could I have us all gather in

the dining room? I think we need to discuss what we’ll do

from here on out.”

With that, she made her way for the hall. The four

maids—Rei-san, Akari-san, Hikari-san, and Teruko-san—

quickly followed close behind. Finally, the other guests began

filing out of the atelier, two by two and three by three.

The last ones to remain in the room were Kunagisa, me,

and Shinya-san.

He was staring at Kanami-san’s body, his face pale and

blank.

“Shinya-san…” Stepping back on the coat, I returned to the

other side. “Let’s go, there’s nothing we can do here.” It killed

me to say it.

“Oh… yeah. Right.”

His mind was off in a very different place. Despite his

response, he made no attempt to move. He stood completely

rigid, his mind unable to comprehend, refusing to comprehend

the sight before his eyes.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 1 7

I understood how he felt.

If the same thing had happened to Kunagisa, I probably

would have been the same way. No, that’s not right. I

probably would have broken down and gone on a screaming

rampage. I know that’s hard to imagine for a guy like me,

who, as Maki-san would say, was “dead to all emotions,” but

that’s probably what would have happened.

In that respect, Shinya-san was truly admirable.

He didn’t look too good, but at least he hadn’t broken

down. And he could even speak. His mental faculties

remained intact, albeit just barely.

This is what separated him from me. I was just a kid.

Shinya-san was an adult.

I didn’t know what kind of relationship Shinya-san and

Kanami-san had, whether he was just her caretaker or

something more, or perhaps something less.

However…

Remembering the sad look in his eyes the previous night…

And seeing him now, I somehow understood.

“Ii-chan, let’s go ahead,” Kunagisa said, pulling on my arm.

“Yeah.”

And thus ended our tranquil lives on this island.

And thus began the next chapter.

The morning of the fourth day on the island had started

extremely normal. Really, extremely normal.

I awoke the same as always. By the time I got to Kunagisa’s

room, she was already awake and sitting at her computers. She

said she was checking her e-mail. “Do my hair,” she said,

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 118

without so much as a “good morning.” I put the hair on the

top of her head in two tails, what we called a “twin tail.” I

figured it would be easy enough for her to undo it herself this

time.

“I feel like breakfast today,” she said, so we headed for the

dining room. Peeking into the living room on the way, I found

that Maki-san and Shinya-san were still there drinking wine.

They must have been up all night drinking. “They sure aren’t

paying their age any mind,” I thought, but of course I stayed

quiet.

Out of courtesy, I invited them to breakfast and they

accepted. The four of us entered the dining room. Sitting at

the table were Akane-san and, making a rare appearance, Iriasan.

“Oh, what an unusual occurrence,” Iria-san also said. “To

have everyone gathered like this even in the morning… Well, I

suppose it was inevitable. Shall I call in the others? It would

be nice to all do breakfast together.”

She summoned the nearby Akari-san and asked her to go

fetch Yayoi-san, who was no doubt in the kitchen, and the

other maids.

“Well, I’ll go fetch Kanami-san,” Shinya-san said. “She’s

probably all done painting by now anyway. Hmm, I wonder if

she’s still sleeping. Ehh, she doesn’t get cranky in the morning.

Despite her lousy personality.”

He chuckled a bit at his own joke and looked at me. “Hope

you’re looking forward to seeing that picture,” he said, and left

the dining room.

It would have been the first time Kunagisa and I had done

breakfast with the entire group, but it never actually

happened.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 119

When Shinya-san returned to the dining hall, what he

brought was the news of Kanami-san’s death.

“Kanami’s been… murdered.”

That’s how he phrased it, anyway, but it was quite a bit of

an understatement, if you ask me. There was no way she died

of sickness or an accident, or even suicide—she had been

beheaded.

Whatever the case.

This was a murder.

And not just a murder, but…

“Me? I was… right. After dinner, I was with Kunagisa the

whole time. I took a bath in her room, then she said she was

hungry, so we went to the living room. On the way we ran

into Akari-san. Isn’t that right? Right. In the living room we

met Hikari-san, Maki-san, and Shinya-san, and then… the

earthquake. There was an earthquake, right? We were in the

living room until that earthquake occurred. After that, I took

Kunagisa back to her room, and then… right, I went to sleep. I

woke up today at six, and I’ve been with Kunagisa ever since.”

I tried my best to sound calm, even under everyone’s gaze.

An alibi check.

Why we had to start with me, I don’t know, but Iria-san

had requested it, so there was no choice. It seemed she viewed

me as the prime suspect.

The dining room.

Eating my slightly cold breakfast.

No one else seemed to be able to continue with breakfast

after seeing the headless corpse, and indeed I was feeling

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 2 0

pretty squeamish myself but Yayoi-san’s cooking was so good,

I couldn’t just let it all go to waste.

The round table.

Iria-san, Teruko-san, Rei-san, Yayoi-san, Shinya-san,

Kunagisa Tomo, myself. Akane-san, Maki-san, Hikari-san, and

Akari-san. Everyone was sitting in their assigned seats, with

only Kanami-san’s seat, at the five o’clock position, empty. It

would never be filled.

Iria-san tilted her head at me a bit in response to my

testimony. Then she glanced over at Hikari-san in the ten

o’clock seat. “Hikari, is that true?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Up until the earthquake occurred…

um… one o’clock, was it? Yes, one o’clock. The five of us

including me were talking the whole time. I can vouch for

that.”

“Did anyone get up and leave for a while?”

“No,” Hikari said with a bit of uncertainty. “I don’t think

so… although I couldn’t say for certain.”

“No one left,” Kunagisa said, coming to her rescue. “And

I’ve got a perfect memory. Nobody left the living room.”

“Is that so?” Iria closed her eyes. “In that case, you and

Kunagisa-san, Sakaki-san, Himena-san, and Hikari can all

account for one another up until the earthquake, is that right?

How about after the earthquake?”

“I slept alone, so I suppose I don’t have an alibi.”

“Thank you. Well then, I suppose I should go ahead and

give my alibi next. Last night I was with Rei and Sashirono-san

in my room talking. Yesterday’s dinner was even more

delicious than usual, so I was asking her about the recipe. Isn’t

that right, Sashirono-san?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 2 1

Possibly because her name had suddenly come up, Yayoisan

looked a bit startled. “Yes,” she nodded quickly.

Rei-san shrugged a bit, but said nothing. If you thought

about it, she must’ve been a really cool-headed person. Of

course Teruko-san was quiet as ever, but Rei-san was more

silent than you would have imagined. Whether she was just

being loyal to her employer or this was just her natural

personality, I wasn’t sure.

“The earthquake happened, and… then I decided to go

back to my room,” she said as if struggling to remember.

“That’s right,” Iria-san nodded. “After that, Rei and I were

up all night talking. Kunagisa-san will be leaving soon, so I

thought we should discuss the idea of holding some kind of

fun event… you know, like a farewell party. That’s the

tradition here. Anyway, we ended up forgoing sleep, so I just

came straight here for breakfast.”

In other words, Iria-san and Rei-san had perfect alibis.

Yayoi-san, like Kunagisa and I, only had an alibi up until the

earthquake.

“Shinya-san and I have complete alibis as well,” Maki-san

said. “Kunagisa-chan and the rest can confirm that up until the

earthquake, and Shinya-san and I can vouch for each other

after that. My, alcohol is just wonderful.”

Just how trustworthy was a drunk person’s testimony?

Maki-san must’ve known I was thinking that, because she

glared at me. But without a word to me, she turned to Shinyasan.

“Isn’t that right?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah, right,” he replied vacantly.

“Hmm… Hikari, what did you do after the earthquake?”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 2 2

“I went back to our room. Akari and Teruko were there,

too. After that, I went to bed. I woke up today at five o’clock,

and then got back to…”

“What about Akari and Teruko then? Akari, answer.”

“After dinner, we didn’t have any work left to do, so…” she

paused, with a hand to her cheek as she tried to think.

“Teruko and I were together in our room the whole time.

Then the earthquake happened, and Hikari came back soon

after that. That’s when we decided to go to bed.”

“The three of you share one room?” I asked. Akari-san’s

eyes shot in my direction as if she never would’ve guessed I

would speak up.

“Yes, the three of us share a room. Is something wrong

with that?”

“Oh no, nothing.”

Just wondering. I bowed to her. I wanted to ask if they

shared the same futon as well, but I decided to stay quiet.

Hmm…

That meant that Akari-san and Teruko-san had solid alibis

up until the earthquake as well. After that, they had all gone

to bed, so they couldn’t really vouch for one another.

Teruko-san nodded a bit after listening to Akari’s

testimony, but ultimately said nothing. It was a simple

gesture, but somehow hard to understand.

“This is becoming quite complicated.” Iria-san looked

toward the last possible suspect, Sonoyama Akane-san. “What

about you?” she said. “What were you doing last night?”

Akane-san, who had been closely observing the situation

up until now with arms folded and mouth shut, let out a sigh.

“Judging from the fact that nobody’s mentioned my name up

until now, it’s probably pretty obvious, but, yep, I wasn’t with

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anyone last night.” She spoke unhesitatingly. “After I finished

dinner, I went back to my room and got on the computer. I

was working on some modeling, and, well, I’ll spare you the

boring details. There should be a log, so you could check that

for proof, but I suppose that kind of thing can be forged. I

guess you couldn’t call it an alibi.”

“I don’t know much about computers. What do you think,

Kunagisa-san?”

“Hmm?” Kunagisa’s head popped up (hell of a time to be

daydreaming). “Oh. With a degree of skill, a person could

easily manipulate something as simple as a log. Akane-chan,

how much do you know about computers?”

Akane-san smirked. “There’s probably no point in

answering that.”

“Oh, okay,” Kunagisa nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.

With the right tools, even an amateur could alter a log. It’s not

like it’s very hard. You can find that kind of software all over

the place.”

“Isn’t there a way to see if the log’s been altered?” I asked.

“There is, but that can be faked, too. Just about anything’s

possible with a computer, you see, so it’s hard to use one to

confirm an alibi.”

Kunagisa Tomo. Invited to this island as the leader of that

“team.” She was peerless in her field, so there was no way she

was wrong. In which case, Akane-san had no alibi to speak of.

Akane-san let out another sigh. “But I suppose I have to

make a defense for myself or else you’ll have me on a cross. So

I’ll just go ahead and say it: I didn’t do it. Certainly I hate

artists, but I don’t think they’re worth killing. They’re already

dead when they’re alive. It wouldn’t be worth the effort. I had

nothing to do.”

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 2 4

She probably meant to say, “I had nothing to do with it,”

but at any rate, she didn’t seem to be bluffing or playing

tough, and it didn’t seem like an act, either.

“Okay, everyone please hold on a minute. I need to work

this out in my head.”

“Um, before that, please hold on,” I said to Iria-san. The

conversation was growing bizarre. Hold on before we hold on?

“Um, Iria-san, what exactly are you trying to do?”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s just that this all feels really strange to me, and… of

course, this is your island and your mansion, so I know it’s

probably better not to say anything, plus I’m not even really a

guest, but I’m asking anyway. What exactly are you trying to

do?”

“Well. I’m trying to get to the bottom of this, of course,”

she smiled softly. “It seems pretty clear to me,” she continued.

“Ibuki-san was murdered by someone. And in this case, that

means she was murdered by someone in this room. As you

said, this is my island and my mansion. One of the guests I’ve

invited here has been killed, and the murderer is right here.

Surely you don’t think we can just leave this alone?”

She glanced over the crowd with an ironic smile.

Indeed, she was right. This was a remote island. A remote,

deserted island, completely isolated.

Wet Crow’s Feather Island.

If there were twelve people on the island and one was

killed, the murderer had to be one of the remaining eleven.

Even elementary school students can do that sort of basic

arithmetic.

“Gosh, another death,” Iria-san said with a sigh.

Another? Did she just say “another”?

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 2 5

“And another decapitation, at that. Could it be that this

island is cursed? Say, Himena-san, can you see into that?”

“You’re the one who’s cursed,” Maki-san answered. “The

island is just an island. If anything is cursed, it’s you.”

As disheartening a statement as that was, Iria-san replied

with a strange smile. “Maybe so.”

Ah, it all made sense. It had seemed strange to me that

despite her attitude, Maki-san was able to get along so well

with everyone other than me, but now I got it. Nobody else

on this island cared about what other people said.

“Mmm, but this is a fairly simple case. Maybe there’s no

need for all this questioning. After all, the time of the incident

is fairly laid out for us.”

“Is it?”

“It is. You saw it, too, right? All that paint got knocked

over during the earthquake, and Ibuki-san’s body was lying on

the other side. How wide do you suppose that river of paint

was?”

Nobody ventured an answer, so I went ahead. “At a quick

glance, I would’ve said about ten feet.”

“Right, not that big but certainly not small enough to jump

over. So we can confirm that the murder must have happened

before the earthquake.”

The shelf had fallen over in the quake, resulting in that

marble-colored river. What did that mean? The quake must

have been more intense than I had realized, but that’s not all.

What did that river really mean?

“Hold on a second,” Akane interrupted. She looked a bit

concerned. “This conversation doesn’t bode well for me. You

know why?”

Why?

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 2 6

Everyone besides Akane-san had an alibi prior to the

earthquake.

I was with Kunagisa the whole time. Same with Hikari-san,

Maki-san, and Shinya-san. Same deal with Akari-san and

Teruko-san. And of course, Iria-san, Rei-san, and Yayoi-san.

Everyone had an alibi and could vouch for one another.

Iria-san was right. There was no way someone could jump

that marble river of paint the earthquake had created.

Likewise, there was no way to cross the river without stepping

in the paint and creating footprints.

In which case…

The murder had to have happened before the earthquake.

The only one with no alibi at that time was Akane-san.

Indeed, this didn’t bode well for her at all.

“Iria-san,” she clucked. “I’m just going to ask you straight.

Do you think I did it?” That certainly was straight.

“Yes,” Iria-san admitted just as directly. “I mean, who else

could have?”

Akane-san broke eye contact with Iria-san and said

nothing. She was at a loss for an effective argument despite

that Seven Fools brain of hers. Feeling some sliver of a

connection with her somehow, I wanted to jump in and save

her, but if a member of the Seven Fools couldn’t think of a

rebuttal, there was no way a program dropout could.

An awkwardness hung in the air for a while, but it was

Kunagisa who broke it.

“That’s wrong,” she said. “I don’t think that logic

completely makes sense, Iria-chan.”

“Oh? Why is that?” Iria-san seemed strangely glad to hear

it. “Ah, I see. You’re talking about the possibility of an

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 2 7

accomplice. I suppose there is that possibility. That would

make everyone’s alibis a little shaky.”

“No, not that. Even if you don’t consider an accomplice,

you’re missing something. Right, Ii-chan?”

“Huh?” I blurted out, completely surprised that I would be

pulled into this.

“Come on, Ii-chan, tell her. About what happened last

night.”

“Last night… something happened?”

Looking fairly irritated, Kunagisa clammed up. This was a

fairly rare thing for her.

“What can I say? Unlike you, I have a bad memory.”

“Geez, you really don’t remember? Your memory isn’t bad,

it’s nonexistent! Do you always forget things this important?

After the earthquake. Shinya-chan made a call to Kanamichan,

right?”

“Oh. Oh. Oh!”

Hikari-san and Shinya-san looked up in surprise.

That’s right. Shinya-san had called Kanami-san after the

quake and confirmed that she was okay. Confirmed that

nothing had happened to her.

Wow, that was important, just like Kunagisa said. What

did that mean though? What would happen now?

“In other words, Kanami-chan must have been killed after

the earthquake.”

“Hold on a sec,” Iria-san said in a bit of a panic. “But that

river of paint…”

“Well, Iria-chan, that must mean this…” she paused for a

moment. “The atelier was locked.”

Everyone exchanged glances for a moment.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 2 8

That river of paint was unjumpable for sure. It was ten feet

wide. Maybe it was possible if you were a long-jumper, but

even then, there was no space to get a running start. If you

considered that, the murder must have happened before the

earthquake, just like Iria-san said, but then Shinya-san’s story

wouldn’t have made sense. Immediately after the earthquake,

Kanami-san had neither been killed nor harmed.

“Sakaki-san,” Iria-san said, “that was Ibuki-san’s voice for

sure, right?”

He went even paler, with a confused expression written on

his face. At last, he nodded. “Yeah, it was definitely Kanami.

No mistake. She said she was busy, and that the paint had

fallen over so everything was a mess. She had to have been

alive after the earthquake.”

“I heard Sakaki-san talking on the phone as well,” Hikarisan

told her mistress. “He asked me if he could use the house

phone and… I think Ibuki-san must have been alive still.”

“Yeah, she was still… he clutched his head in anguish. “If I

had only gone to the atelier instead of neglecting my duties.

Dammit! I’m scum! I’m nothing but scum!”

There wasn’t much to say to that. Only that in the end, it

wasn’t earthquakes or blizzards or fire that was frightening.

It seems there is some kind of solace to be found in regret.

It serves as an escape from what’s right before your eyes.

You end up pinning all your bad deeds on the “former you.”

It’s hardly what you would call self-condemnation.

When you are regretting something, you’re technically

being good.

I’m not saying Shinya-san was a monster. People are just

wired that way. If anyone was a monster, it was me, for only

being able to nitpick at people’s flaws like this.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 2 9

“This is starting to get strange,” Akane-san said, stroking

her chin. “According to Shinya-san, Hikari-san, and Kunagisasan’s

testimony, the murder must have happened after the

earthquake. But after the earthquake, the river of paint had

already been formed, in which case there is nobody who could

have killed her. In which case…”

“That’s right, Akane-chan.” Kunagisa interrupted. She had

that look she gets when she’s starting to find something

interesting. “This is an incredibly strange situation.”

“When you say the atelier was locked, you mean…” Iriasan

nodded, seemingly convinced. “Hmm. Indeed, even now,

that paint isn’t dry, huh? Could there have been a way to

climb over it and enter the room? Say, Akari, where’s the

house phone in Ibuki-san’s atelier?”

“It’s beside the window, on a phone stand,” Akari-san

answered with great certainty.

Iria-san crossed her arms and considered this. “Kunagisasan,

you’ve posed this question, but I don’t suppose you know

the answer already? Do you know who did it?”

“Nope,” Kunagisa answered, strangely confident.

Of course, I didn’t know, either.

Nobody knew.

“What about the window? Is it possible that the person

entered through the window?” Shinya-san asked.

Hikari-san answered. “But it’s the second floor. I don’t

think it’s possible. And I’m pretty sure that window is locked

from the inside, so—”

“So it can’t be opened from the outside at all?”

“Probably,” Hikari-san answered.

ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 3 0

Check. So the window was impossible, and so was the

door. It couldn’t have happened before the earthquake or after

the earthquake, so…

Okay.

We were at a complete dead end.

Everyone fell into silence once more. And then, eyes

started shifting back toward Akane-san.

“Huh?” she seemed a little surprised. “Hey, I thought I had

cleared myself.”

“Maybe not,” Iria-san said. “Clearing that paint river is

impossible, right? So, ultimately, it must have been before the

earthquake.”

“What about what Shinya-san said?”

“He could’ve been tricked. Maybe it was an auditory

hallucination or something.”

Auditory hallucination? Nonsense. It was beyond nonsense.

I had to say something.

“I think that’s just what you want to believe,” I said.

“I don’t think so,” Iria-san said, unfazed by my opinion.

“Even supposing it wasn’t auditory hallucination, it could have

easily been some other sort of misunderstanding. There’s no

crossing that river of paint, that much is for sure. Thus, it’s

only logical to presume the murder happened before the

earthquake, in which case it couldn’t be anyone but Akanesan.”

“This isn’t good,” Akane-san said, seeming truly worried. “I

know this probably won’t help my case any, but I can’t help

but feel like Akari-san and Teruko-san’s alibi is a little sketchy.

I mean, family members vouching for each other? It wouldn’t

hold up in a court of law.”

“We’re not talking about a court of law,” Iria-san said flatly.

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“I didn’t think so,” Akane-san said as if she expected such a

response. “Still, determining the criminal by process of

elimination doesn’t make much sense. It’s silly. And simply

ignoring Sakaki-san’s testimony isn’t exactly what I would call

logical thinking. It’s selective thinking.”

“Selective thinking?”

Akane-san shot me a look, as if to say, “Will you please

explain?”

“A confirmation bias,” I blurted, suddenly remembering

from my program training that one is never to reveal his own

stupidity to a “senior.” “In other words, it means when you

only consider testimonies and evidence that suit your opinion

and write off all evidence to the contrary as some kind of

fluke. Actually, they say that in supernatural ability

experiments, they”—my eyes wandered over to Maki-san—

“they use it a lot. ‘Dry Love,’ wasn’t it? They obsess over any

evidence that suggests these abilities exist while ignoring any

evidence that suggests they don’t. It’s their way of getting

desirable results, I guess.”

“I don’t really follow you.”

I had gone to all that effort to remember these things, and

here Iria-san wasn’t even listening. What a waste of breath.

Akane-san sighed deep.

“I suppose Ibuki-san and I were on pretty awful terms, but

still…”

I recalled their nasty bickering from the previous night’s

dinner. It didn’t exactly do wonders for her case. Certainly it

wasn’t only Akane-san’s lack of an alibi that made Iria-san

doubt her so much, but this as well.

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Of course, it wasn’t that I didn’t understand Iria-san’s

feelings. But if you took Shinya-san’s testimony into account,

even Akane-san couldn’t be a suspect.

It was an uncommitable crime. There were no suspects.

There was one victim and zero suspects. The situation didn’t

make any sense. And thus to fix it…

“Sakaki-san’s testimony seems a little shady after all,” Iriasan

said, staring right at him. “Even if it’s not a lie, it’s got to

be some kind of misperception or dream or some such.”

“But I heard him talking on the phone,” Hikari-san said.

Iria-san shook her head. “It’s not like you heard Ibuki-san’s

voice, right? Sakaki-san is the only one who heard her voice

directly, which means…”

“Come on, that’s—” Shinya-san started to protest, but as if

realizing he had no basis for an argument, he went silent.

“Hmm. Well, if that’s the way it is, I guess there’s no

choice but to suspect me. That’s one way to look at things,

anyway,” Akane-san said, almost as if she was talking about

someone else. Even now, she didn’t seem to be lying or acting.

Sonoyama Akane, ER3 system, Seven Fools. She seemed all

too used to this kind of pandemonium. “But still, you don’t

have any proof. Iria-san, even if you are the mistress of this

island and this mansion, you wouldn’t treat me like a criminal

without any proof, would you? This may not be a court of law

here, as you say, but it’s not some dusty old detective novel,

either, right? You can’t just assume I’m the criminal based on

this unformulaic process of elimination and selective thinking.

Nobody can do that.”

“But Sonoyama-san, you also can’t prove that you’re not

the criminal.”

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“You can’t ask the innocent to prove their innocence. You

can’t prove the unprovable. I’m innocent until proven guilty.”

“You’re talking law again.”

Akane-san’s shoulders slumped. “Well, what’s your point,

Iria-san? So I’m the prime suspect. Fine. That’s absolutely

right. I’m the only one with no alibi before the earthquake.

Nobody could have entered the atelier after the earthquake.

Sure, I’m with you on that, too. Therefore, Sakaki-san’s

testimony becomes suspicious. Makes sense. So what now?”

So…

What now?

“What should we do?” Iria-san looked around the table

with a troubled expression. It seemed she hadn’t thought any

further than this. How anticlimactic.

“Throw me to the police or whatever you want,” Akanesan

said, brushing the bangs from her face.

Akane-san of the Seven Fools being sent off to the police?

“I hate the police,” Iria-san said, still perplexed as she

stared up at the ceiling. “Oh, what to do?”

A heaviness filled the air once again.

I whispered to Kunagisa. “Hey, Tomo.”

“What’s up, Ii-chan?”

“Isn’t there some way to stop this witch hunt?”

“There is.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but”—she looked up at me—“you ought to do it,

not me.”

“Yeah, okay,” I nodded, then raised my hand.

Iria-san called on me with a confused look. “Yes, you.” Ah,

good. It was so nice not to be ignored.

“I have a suggestion.”

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“Yes?”

“How about using the room I’ve been staying in? It looks

like you can only lock and unlock it from the outside. What if

we kept Akane-san there for a while?”

“Kept her there?” She eyed me dubiously. “You mean like

imprisonment?”

“Not imprisonment, exactly. Not imprisonment, just… a

brief period of seclusion. Iria-san, I think the biggest thing we

have to fear right now is that this turns into a string of

murders. Kanami-san was killed. Okay, that’s already said and

done. I hate to be so frank about it, but what’s done is done.

But more important, we can’t let anyone else die. The

quickest way to deal with a situation like this is to isolate the

prime suspect. If Akane-san really is the murderer, naturally

she won’t be able to commit any more murders. If, on the

other hand, someone else used some kind of trick and

managed to sneak in and kill Kanami-san after the earthquake,

then that person would be brought to a standstill. After all, if

they tried anything again, it would prove Akane-san’s

innocence.”

I looked around to see people’s responses.

“In other words, create an antagonistic environment, so

that the killer can’t move around. This includes Akane-san, as

well as everyone else. The atelier may have been locked, but

locked doors are made to be unlocked. There might have been

some trick. There might not have been. That doesn’t matter.

What matters is that we don’t know either way. Akane-san

might have done it. Someone else might have. Even I might

have. I might not. So I think the best thing to do is create a

situation where the killer can’t do anything.”

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“Ah, I get it,” Yayoi-san said, a bit to my surprise. “That

makes a lot of sense. I’d have to say I agree. I don’t think

there’s a very solid basis for suspecting Sonoyama-san alone.

Iria-san’s reasoning seems rather arbitrary.”

Iria-san gave her a quizzical look. Nonetheless. Yayoi-san

continued.

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea. But you don’t intend to just

lock her up forever, right? In that awful room?”

Hey, I’ve been sleeping in that awful room, dammit.

Lousy bourgeoisie.

“Well, just until the police arrive. This is a private island, it

shouldn’t take more than a day or two to get an investigator

out here.”

“I’m not calling the police,” Iria-san said, completely