Chapter 50: Lunch Break Discussion

Kimura Shōta’s disappearance failed to cause so much as a ripple in the placid, mundane waters of Suzaku High. In fact, most of the student body remained completely, blissfully unaware.

Even the members of the Folklore Research Club only learned of it during their lunch break on Tuesday, when Ōgami Yōsuke, his face grim, his usual easygoing demeanor gone, dropped the news on them like a stone.

After they had all parted ways on Monday, everyone had been buzzing with a feverish anticipation, eagerly awaiting Ōgami’s promised account of the ancient Tōkigan legend. Takada, it was said, had even called Ōgami after school to press him for an advance preview. And so, the next day, they had all gathered in the clubroom, expecting a thrilling ghost story. What they got instead was a bombshell.

“Kimura is missing.”

Kana was the first to react, a sharp, audible gasp escaping her lips, her face draining of all color. “M-missing? You don’t think… you don’t think he’s really met with some kind of… danger, do you?”

In all their previous investigations into campus ghost stories and urban legends, the most bizarre, the most thrilling experience had been exploring the empty, darkened school at night, only to be scared half to death by a late-working teacher rattling a desk in a distant classroom.

But now… a real person, a person they knew, had vanished in direct connection with a bizarre, seemingly supernatural event. The feeling was entirely, terrifyingly different. The game was no longer a game.

“Those who know the full story will suffer misfortune.”

The phrase, which had seemed like a clever, fabricated detail just yesterday, now echoed in her mind with a new, chilling weight, sending a cold shiver of genuine dread down her spine.

“What do you mean, missing? And how in the world would you know?” Takada Shōji, ever the more direct, and perhaps braver, of the group, demanded, his voice sharp with a mixture of shock and impatience.

Yomikawa Tsuko, too, had not anticipated this particular and rather inconvenient turn of events. She crossed her arms, her long legs, sheathed in their customary black over-the-knee socks, crossed elegantly before her. “Regardless,” she said, her voice cold and decisive, an immediate attempt to regain control of the narrative, “this matter has now escalated to a point where it is… potentially dangerous. We cannot, and we will not, conduct any further practical investigation. If your curiosity is so overwhelming, you may discuss it, at most, within the safe, and entirely theoretical confines of this room.”

She had no desire to waste another precious second of her time on this affair. Kimura, Mie Island, Tōkigan… it was all completely irrelevant to her. The sooner this tiresome distraction was concluded, the better. Before summer vacation arrived, there would be no more club activities. She had other, far more important plans to set in motion. She intended, for example, to get acquainted with Takada’s classmate, Katayama Mao. The reporter’s son. She had several creative and deeply satisfying ideas regarding his eventual… social demise. But to choose the most effective, most elegantly cruel method, she would first need to meet him in person. If all went according to plan, by the second semester, he would no longer be attending their school. A problem, neatly and permanently solved.

As she was lost in these cold, pleasant calculations, Ōgami Yōsuke began to speak, his voice grim. “The reason I know Kimura-san is missing is because the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department acted much, much more quickly than I had anticipated. This morning, investigators came from Tokyo. And they invited my father to accompany them on a formal visit to Kimura-san’s house.”

Junko’s eyes widened, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated envy and excitement. “R-really? Detectives from Tokyo?”

Takada Shōji shot her an annoyed look. “Junko, don’t interrupt. Let Ōgami explain.”

Junko pouted but fell silent, her eyes still shining.

“My father called me during the break after second period,” Ōgami continued, “to ask for the details of our own previous visit to Kimura-san’s house. After I told him what had happened, I was actually waiting, with some anxiety, for him to contact me again. But an entire period went by, and I heard nothing. Not a text, not a LINE message.”

“After third period, when I still hadn’t heard anything, I called him back. And that’s when I learned that Kimura was gone. My father then gave me a brief and rather chilling account of their visit to the Kimura residence.”

“Kimura-san’s parents were both home. They were, understandably, quite shocked to see a pair of grim-faced police detectives at their door, and were initially very resistant. After some tense negotiation, they finally, reluctantly agreed to cooperate.”

Though no one spoke, everyone in the room could vividly imagine the scene.

“There’s a criminal case, and we believe your son, Kimura Shōta, may have some information that could be of assistance.”

“That’s what the detectives from Tokyo told them.”

“Then, Kimura’s mother went upstairs to get him, while his father stayed downstairs to entertain the unwelcome guests.”

“A minute or two passed. And then, my father and the others heard Kimura’s mother’s voice from the second floor. Her tone was no longer gentle; it was sharp, angry. She was demanding that Kimura open his door immediately, telling him that there were police officers here to question him. She threatened that if he didn’t come out right this second, she would use her own key to open the door.”

“Eh? Kimura’s mom has a key to his room?” The question burst out of Junko before she could stop it. She quickly clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide, signaling that she would say no more.

“A few moments later,” Ōgami continued, his voice grim, “they saw Kimura’s mother running frantically down the stairs, her face pale with panic. She told them that Kimura was gone. He wasn’t in his room. And his phone, his keys, his wallet… they were all still sitting on his desk.”

“After that, everyone went upstairs to inspect the room. The detectives had Kimura’s mother go through his wardrobe, to see what, if any, clothes were missing, to try and determine what he might have been wearing when he left.”

At this point in Ōgami Yōsuke’s story, everyone in the room had a thoughtful expression on their face. They could all anticipate what Kimura’s mother’s frantic inspection would reveal.

“According to Kimura’s mother’s assessment, all of his outerwear, all his regular clothes, were accounted for. The only thing missing was a single set of pajamas – the one Kimura-san usually wore. Then, she checked his shoes. And came to the only possible and deeply unsettling conclusion. Kimura-san had left the house wearing only his pajamas and slippers.”

Sleepwalking.

The word, unspoken, hung heavy in the air, a phantom, terrifying presence in the small, suddenly cold, clubroom.

Kimura’s mother would have certainly been awake after sunrise. If Kimura had left the house in the morning, she would have noticed. Therefore, the only logical conclusion was that Kimura had disappeared sometime during the dead of night, while his parents were sound asleep.

“Under normal circumstances, Kimura-san wouldn’t have been missing long enough to be officially declared a missing person. But because of the unique, and frankly, bizarre circumstances of his case, my father and the others immediately requested the assistance of the local police. They should be out there, searching for any trace of him, right now.”

Kana rested her chin on her hand, her expression dazed. “Do you think they’ll find him? You don’t think… he’s already met with some terrible fate, do you?”

“Where are the police searching? I think they should go straight to Mount Karasu-Go, right?” Takada Shōji said, a thoughtful, almost strategic expression on his face. “If Kimura really was sleepwalking, then his destination would have to be the mountain. That’s been the supposed pattern all along.”

“But the sleepwalking was a lie, wasn’t it?” Junko countered, a frustrated edge to her voice. “The surveillance footage proved he wasn’t sleepwalking.”

“Oh, right! The surveillance footage!” Takada slapped his thigh, a look of sudden inspiration on his face. “If the police just check the surveillance cameras, they should be able to find out where Kimura went, right?”

The disappearance of Kimura had taken what had seemed to be a closed, if somewhat pathetic case and blown it wide open again, transforming it into something real, something dangerous.

Yomikawa Tsuko watched their idiotic, utterly amateurish discussion, a profound sense of weariness, of deep, soul-crushing boredom washing over her. What does Kimura’s case have to do with any of you? she thought, a cold, contemptuous anger beginning to stir in her heart. Do you really think that just by sitting here, chattering amongst yourselves, you’re some kind of great detectives?

She truly couldn’t understand how her original Senpai had managed to tolerate these fools, to patiently, and with a seemingly endless supply of good humor, discuss such inane, childish theories with them, for so long. In that respect, she had to admit, she was far, far inferior to her predecessor.

“Maybe Kimura-san just… ran away from home? That’s a possibility, isn’t it?”

“You don’t think… because so many people knew about his made-up ghost story, it somehow… became real?”

Ran away from home? In his pajamas and slippers? What kind of absolute idiot comes to that conclusion?

And the ghost story became real because too many people knew about it? Is that something you learned in kindergarten?

A wave of profound, suffocating annoyance washed over Yomikawa Tsuko. The more she listened to them, the more her irritation grew, a raw, almost physical frustration. How can such fools even exist in this world? They’re just a waste of food, a waste of air. Why don’t they just… die?

“In any case,” she said, her voice cutting through their childish, frantic chatter, sharp and cold as ice, “the investigation into Kimura-kun’s disappearance is now a police matter. Whether it’s reviewing surveillance footage or conducting a grid search of Mount Karasu-Go, the Japanese police are experts at that kind of brute-force, systematic searching. And whether Kimura-kun was truly sleepwalking, or if he was, in fact, with someone else, is not a matter for us to discuss.”

With that summary, and utterly final, dismissal, Yomikawa Tsuko struggled to contain her own roiling, contemptuous emotions, and announced that the meeting was over.