Apparently, the android hadn't expected this new, fleshy opponent to appear, and it reacted a moment too late. Its TV-monitor head took a direct hit. Part of the monitor split apart, coughing out a small stream of smoke. For a few seconds yet, some muddy operating sounds were audible; then, the robot plopped down, as if it had lost the ability to move.
"Eh?" Haruko said, scanning the quiet surroundings, "Where is it?"
"What?" asked Naota, wondering why Haruko had attacked the robot.
Looking down at the bracelet on her left hand, Haruko seemed dissatisfied. She glanced around again. She was looking for something or someone.
"Why isn't it here?"
"What are you looking for?"
The outrageous girl looked Naota in the eye and moaned, telling him he was utterly useless.
Okay. Now, he understood. It was an amazing experience: Two robots coming out of his head, having a fierce battle, and so on. He realized that's not something every sixth grader got to see. A few days after all that happened, though, he still retained his belief that there wasn't anything amazing in this world. Who was the Japanese philosopher who had said perception and experience were different things? Back then, no matter what happened in front of him, it amounted to no more than something he happened to see. Don't hate him for that. Don't hate who he was back then. After all, he was but a child.
When Naota went to school the next day, he no longer wore a bandage across his forehead. The horn was absent for the time being, as well.
There is nothing amazing in this world. Everything is ordinary.
The robot that had been a horn now was kneading dough at the Shigekuni Bakery. The area of its head where Haruko had hit it still looked a little strange, but the robot could move again.
Commenting vaguely that they had picked up something useful, Kamon had put the robot to work.
"See you later," Naota had called to the robot on his way out.
Along Naota's route to school, Mamimi jumped out at him. She was sipping a canned beverage.
She had fainted the night before, so she didn't have a single memory of what had happened, and Naota didn't feel like explaining everything to her.
"Morning!" Mamimi greeted.
"Hey," answered Naota.
Mamimi offered him the canned drink in her hand. It was lemonade.
"I don't like sour things," said Naota, but then he immediately took the can and gulped down its remaining contents.
The season most special to Naota had just begun.
Fire Starter
Chapter 1
All the sorrows in the world collected within one body.
Although it was supposed to be his special season, Naota felt more depressed than ever.
Outside, students rode bicycles. Elderly couples savored their walks together. Two crows perched in a ginkgo tree. The cyclists, the elderly couples, the crows in the ginkgo tree—everyone seemed to be enjoying freedom. That was all outside the window, though.
It felt like, of the whole wide world, only the students in this class remained unjustly locked up. The freedom to walk between tree-lined avenues under the autumn sky was something they wouldn't be able to obtain until after their hundred-year prison sentences had been served.
Afternoon classes, cleaning time, and all the rest had ended. The other classes were leaving school now—all except Naota's. Naota's class still couldn't go home because it was a debate day.
Naota's teacher, Miss Miyaji, was a young, enthusiastic, vitamin-filled type of person. Despite being an adult, she sometimes acted like a spoiled little princess—the kind who would have hundreds of stuffed toys lined up in her room, each with a name she'd given it.
At Miss Miyaji's suggestion, the class had to stay after school twice a week for a useless debate. Naota's first thought about this idea had been: You have to be kidding.
Naota didn't have much confidence in Miss Miyaji.
One of Naota's female classmates recently had been placed in charge, and she was habitually forgetful. Every time the girl forgot something, Miss Miyaji scolded her in front of the whole class. The teacher wasn't particularly harsh, but the girl wasn't very thick-skinned, so she'd start crying, and then it would be ages before she'd calm down. Whenever this happened, Miss Miyaji would stand next to the girl and then, clapping her hands together, would start singing, "The girl who shed crocodile tears was a geisha girl!"
In the meantime, there was nothing the rest of the class could do but stand by and watch the bizarre performance. Miss Miyaji claimed that her own grandmother had sung her that song during her childhood whenever she'd cried crocodile tears. Regardless, Naota and the rest of his class didn't think their classmate was shedding fake tears.
There was something messed up with this spoiled princess of a teacher. She was pretty enthusiastic, but you couldn't place your faith in her. If you followed her teachings too closely, she probably would lead you very much astray.
As Miss Miyaji had recommended, today's debate topic was fires.
In Mabase, there had been several fires recently, and it looked as if they'd been caused by arson. The incidents had made the newspapers, too.
Last night, a private residence not too far from the junior high had been burned halfway down. The school couldn't ignore this, so it issued a cautionary warning: "Recently, there have been quite a few fires due to arson. Everyone, please keep an eye out for any suspicious people." And that was all. At least, that was all the other classes had been told, anyway.
However, Miss Miyaji had begun an endless story about a memory she had from her school days, when a gas station had exploded, its roof blowing off.
Please, shut up, Naota thought fervently.
Naota, too, remembered a fire. Although it had happened when he had been in kindergarten, he recalled the incident vividly: It had been a night in early spring.
Mabase Elementary School used to be a wooden building alongside the riverbank, but the old building had burned down. Led by his brother, Tasuku, the young Naota had left his house to watch the fire.
Crackle, crackle, crackle.
The scene was strangely beautiful. The school garden's cherry trees were in full bloom, and the falling blossoms were lit up by the burning building.
Naota had been very young at the time; thinking about it, Tasuku must have been in elementary school himself. Whenever Naota remembered that time, Tasuku seemed like a grown-up to him, though, even then. For various reasons, his brother always had been mature.
Naota couldn't forget the fire; it was near that burning school where he had first met Mamimi.
Mamimi Samejima…
I have to meet Mamimi today.
That was the real reason this long after-school meeting annoyed Naota.
Since the night the robot had emerged, Naota hadn't returned to Mabase Bridge once. Frankly, his need to meet with Mamimi was much stronger than before. The single thing on his mind, at home or at school, was Mamimi. At the same time, though, his heart still was conflicted. He got the feeling he shouldn't see her for a while. More than that, he was frightened of being with her again.
His heart wavered with the uncertainty of how he should act the next time he saw her. That strange night, he had planned to end their fuzzy relationship, but he hadn't found the chance to make his resolution a reality.
Today, he wanted to see Mamimi so much that he couldn't stand it—just a glimpse of her would be enough.
He hadn't been back to Mabase Bridge, but maybe she had gone there today, all alone. Maybe she was waiting for Naota to meet her there. No, she definitely was waiting, and he was going to see her. He had to go.