Kyou kara Ma no Tsuku Jiyuugyou!

Different countries, have different types of fanatics.

That was my first thought when I met the informant.

Rather than saying we met, it would be better to explain that we didn’t introduce ourselves at an official event, and instead happened to b.u.mp into each other hurriedly in the car park.

Although it’s already working hours, the informant hasn’t shown up in the coffee shop as agreed. Murata, Rodriguez and Matthew Orson have their chins on their hands at the table with the white cloth, waiting impatiently. Murata has already finished his third cup of café au lait, the pediatrician with a sweet tooth has already eaten chocolate mousse, cheesecake and tiramisu.

Just as the man who adores sweets says, “I’m a bit bored, lemme call for a piece of pie”—

The customer who runs in from the main road tells the shop employee agitatedly that a serious fire has started outside.

“Rather than calling it a fire, it should count as a huge blaze, right?[1]”

“A blaze? That’s bad, is anyone hurt?”

The trendily-dressed waitress pales. Although it’s a normal day, there are quite a few tourists here from Boston to shop. A manmade blaze could damage an entire city’s reputation, and in the eyes of tourists, it could be a one-hit kill.

“No, no, no, it’s in S.S.BONE.”

“Ah, is that it.”

The atmosphere in the shop calms down, until even Murata heaves a sigh of relief, thinking it’s no big deal. After all they only got such limited information, he was just particularly sensitive because it has something to do with fire. But once everyone heard that, they look so distinctly relieved, it’s quite a sight for the outsiders.

A name that can put everyone at ease just like that, exactly what kind of a company is this ‘S.S.BONE’? Murata and Rodriguez are just about to ask the alleged Boston local, Matthew Orson, when they realize there’s something wrong with him. His expression looks like he just swallowed an entire hard-boiled egg.

“What’s wrong with Matthew?”

“Eeh, S.S.BONE doesn’t seem to be good news!”

“Eh? I was wondering, is the name a rip-off of L.L.BEAN[2]? Or does it have something to do with stocks?”

“Ken, that’s not called ripping off, that’s called ‘great minds think alike’. They obviously have the same ideas.”

“I have a problem with that name as well, too bad it’s in the grey area. But more importantly, S.S.BONE is where our informant Hobart works.”

“Which means he could be caught in the blaze! Why didn’t you say so earlier, Matthew—”

And so the entire party hurries to the scene, only to see the BONE company facilities burning brightly. To be exact, it was the large skeleton art piece right outside the company burning, sparks flying everywhere. If you ignore the fact that it’s five meters tall, the scaled model together with tendons and flesh looks just like an outdoor cremation.

“It looks more like a BBQ. Anyway, the thing damaged is a piece of art, if you think of it as someone else’s problem, then the fire blazing in the evening is really quite beautiful!”

But they can’t think of it as someone else’s problem.

“The person is located.”

Matthew, who is familiar with our target, has found him.

The informant, Hobart, is a regular customer of a certain shop Matthew Orson opened with a partner. The shop is Ma.s.sachusetts’ largest otaku… j.a.panese culture retailer, called ‘Taylor’s Store’ even though it’s obviously a book shop. ‘Hero of the National Bank’, also known as ‘Hero of the World’ s.h.i.+buya Shouma, the bank he works at also invested a bit into this shop. Economically it’s a joint project between America and j.a.pan, while on the surface it’s a bridge between j.a.panese and American communication.

And the shop owner Jonathan Taylor is a bald, bristly, strange-looking man. Those few people who know the reason behind the store’s conception would call him ‘Exiled Jonathan’, but from the way he’s obsessed with baby and parenting books before even getting a girlfriend shows he really likes kids as well.

His motto is, “I shaved on purpose, I’m not bald!” Whenever he says that, someone hearing it for the first time will say, all touched,

“OH—What an amazing tsundere!”

You guys have misunderstood j.a.panese culture, that’s not called tsundere.

Since it’s situated in the busy area of Boston, the customers of ‘Taylor’s Shop’ tend to be students from nearby Harvard or MIT. Come to think of it, that means it’s a shop that the elite anime fans of America frequent. The moral standards are really slipping.

Hobart was one of those customers as well.

The other regulars call him ‘Gogg’[3], which took him by surprise too. Because his interest doesn’t seem to be MS (Mobile Suits). In other to cater to everyone’s interests, the shop has a wide array of merchandise, that’s why it’s unsurprising to see customers who like pretty girl dolls or collects cards. Like just now, when Matthew mentioned this, his face was full of confusion and he turned away a little coldly, probably for that reason.

Before Matthew found him, Hobart was standing in the middle of the rather empty car park, one hand in his pocket. Perhaps the two of them agreed on it beforehand, because he is also biting a donut.

“Mr. Hobart!”

The man who hears them and turns around is a large guy, perfect candidate for a foreign sumo wrestler. But not all of that is fat. The distance between his neck and shoulders isn’t obvious, but as a pract.i.tioner of the D&P (Donut and Pizza) lifestyle, his body is rather st.u.r.dy. It’s probably because he’s still young, right? Once he’s past thirty, all h.e.l.l will break loose.

Hobart leaves the cars and gathering crowd, jogging over to them.

In short, he’s a huge Caucasian, just running a little will turn his face and arms red. To put it nicely, he’s full of a country feel, a gentle giant. To put it bluntly, he’s a healthy fatso. And in this slightly chilly November weather, he’s still wearing shorts, so short they’re not even halfway. But it seems he doesn’t really mind.

“Yeow~~”

He waves the donut at Matthew, stretching out a right arm thick enough to contend with America’s arm-wrestling champion to Murata and Rodriguez.

On that face unique to blondes, his eyebrows are so pale they’re practically invisible. Underneath his jotting forehead, there’s a pair of pale blue eyes. The distance from his nose to his lips is really wide, so his whole face looks a bit like a primate.

If he were a teacher in a j.a.panese middle school, he’d definitely be given a nickname on the first day of school itself.

That is, Gorilla!

“Good day, I’m Gogghart Hobart.”

Now it’s become Gogghart!

“Although normally I tell people to call me Kelly.”

…Now it’s changed to Kelly.

“I’m not German, but I’m called Gogghart, you guys must be very confused, right? But you can call me any name you want, I don’t mind.”

To turn over the impression overseas that j.a.panese people are stiff and unemotional, Murata uses an extremely friendly smile to greet him.

“Good morning, Kelly.”

“It’s evening now, right? Also, my nickname is Gogg.”

Immediately corrected.

“Is it okay with the fire, Gogg?”

“Mn—Honestly, if I say I don’t feel anything because that represents the company, I’d be lying… But I’m fine.”

Kelly Hobart puts up a thumb firmly,

“It’s nothing!”

“As expected of Gogg—”[4]

The pediatrician and Matthew Orson have expressions of idolization for some reason. The only out of it is Murata.

“I am part of the company, after all, so I can’t just leave it while there’s a fire and go home on my own, sorry for being late.”

“You say you’re part of the company, don’t tell me you’re the president?”

Hobart narrows those sunken blue eyes shyly, answering Murata’s obviously flattering question,

“No—No. I’ve been a speaker at the Discovery School here since three years ago.”

“Ah~ Something to do with wrestling?”

“No, sniping.”

“That’s…”

“It’s a very popular cla.s.s, too! And the ladies like it, it’s about as cool as MONKEY Tojo.”

Is there an a.s.sa.s.sin with that nickname? On the other hand, anybody with anything to do with the word ‘To’ (East) can’t possibly stand behind him. Kelly Hobart says a joke so cold the chilly wind blows right into their faces, and he even laughs until he’s bent over backwards. But speaking of sniping, is it really okay to teach something like that in a school in the middle of the commercial and tourist area?

“As for what I want to say, it has something to do with this.”

Hobart takes something wrapped in oil paper out of his packet.

“Aah, how could you be so careless with it.”

“It’s okay, doctor, as long as it’s not near a fire.”

“Eh? Ah, this thing can’t be near fire?”

Maybe he’s so taken aback by this sudden mention, Hobart nearly drops the object. It’s just the right size to hold in one’s palm.

“I see~~ I think my grandmother put it in a lead box, but she meant to avoid what spiritual magic or supernatural phenomena, so it should have nothing to do with fire, right? Honestly, I don’t really know about these antiques.”

Murata accepts the object from those meaty hands, opening up the bundle of oil paper weighing down his left hand. He’s so nervous even his hands are shaking.

“Where did you get this from?”

“A long, long—time ago, my grandfather’s father… In other words, my great grandfather found this in the house he was working as a butler in… It seems to be something a bit creepy.”

“I think so too.”

A piece of metal appears in front of their eyes—a twisted triangle with each side about 10cm long, prolonged contact with heat and air turning the metal black, while the broken part has rusted. Although it’s not even a centimeter thick, it’s fairly heavy. Why would he put something so heavy in his pocket, isn’t he scared his pants will be pulled down?

Murata touches the surface of the metal gently with his palm, and finds that the animal-motif carvings are already somewhat faded. Even if he can’t identify them, there are words carved onto the left half.

Exactly the same as the images received.

Just one glance at the high resolution photographs had gotten him thinking. If Murata’s… or the owner of this ancient soul’s memory is correct, then this is indeed part of the Box. Strictly speaking, it’s part of the decorations on the edge of ‘Inferno on the Tundra’. Of course it wasn’t there when the Box was built. In the beginning, the Boxes had no extra embellishments. It was after they came to Earth, that some expert from an unknown era had personally installed them.

And then at some point the Box got separated from the decorations.

Murata touches the indentations of the words, murmuring to himself.

Just then Rodriguez asks Hobart for Murata, who’s staring at the metal piece wordlessly,

“What was your great grandfather’s name?”

“Pennwater, Pennwater Hobart. My grandmother’s name was Diane Hobart, before marrying she was Diane Graves.”

“Graves!? By Graves, you mean…”

“That’s right, they’re quite popular in Boston.”

“Are you a member of the Graves family?”

“Wait a sec! No, I’m not, not at all!”

Kelly Hobart’s hand, that usually holds his sniper gun, is now waving desperately to refute his question. “My great grandfather was once the Graves family butler, butlers can get married too. The Hobarts had two sons, the younger one is my paternal grandfather. I saw his picture when he was in the army, I guess he’s quite good-looking. Blonde hair, blue eyes, when he wore a uniform he was quite handsome!”

Matthew Orson seems to have thought of something, his expression all perverted.

“Naturally girls wouldn’t let such a good-looking guy go, and my grandfather didn’t want to waste G.o.d’s gift, either. So he wasn’t just two-timing them, but triple-timing them, just like Poseidon’s trident. It’s strange~ Since I have a quarter of his blood, I should have inherited those genes, right? Anyway, he had about three girlfriends by the time he enlisted.”

“One of them was Diane Graves?”

“No no no, they hadn’t gotten together yet at that time. Then my grandfather took three photographs onto the battlefield… and accidentally lost two of them.”

“Waa—how heartless of him!”

“But my grandfather said confidently that maybe those two lost photos can sooth a single soldier’s soul, so he’s done a good deed!”

A playboy’s actions are truly unforgivable. Just as everyone is about to agree on that, the fleshy bone that’s on fire erupts into sparks, and the fire truck finally arrives. Too slow, they’re so slow it makes one wonder if the one reporting the fire waiting for the meat to be fully cooked first.

“My grandfather had no choice, so he really cherished the remaining photographs. Back then I think he was in Russia, one day they were violently attacked, until the squadron he was in was completely isolated. And then just as the terrible fight was turning their way, my grandfather and his comrades took turns smoking a cigarette, and then he took out the photo on his pocket…”

“After the war ends, I’m gonna go back and marry this girl.”

He said it!

Although the one talking is his descendant, the other three touched their foreheads before he could react, and say in the same, sorrowful voice,

“So sorry, Kelly.”

“I’m guessing your grandfather must have been affected by the atmosphere to say something like that, huh, Kelly.”

“But from what you said, you shouldn’t exist in this world, Kelly.”

“He didn’t die, right!?”

“Eh--!?”

“Actually we did receive his telegram. It was a misunderstanding, so everyone thought he’d died on the battlefield. So when Grandfather came back, all his previous lovers were already married. Just then, Diane Graves, who had married a Harvard graduate elite lawyer appeared in front of his eyes. Even though the war was over, Grandfather stayed on in the army. Perhaps he got fond of the military uniform—”

“Is there a lot more to this story?”

Murata’s already irritated. He’s not that interested in someone else’s grandparent story. Contrary to other fat people, Hobart is surprisingly talkative, and left to his own devise he might very well continue to ‘Chapter 2, how my father met my mother’ and ‘Chapter 3, the story in my head about me and her’. Although it’s a bit mean, it would be very dangerous if he doesn’t find a suitable time to hit the brakes.

“Alright, to make it short, my grandfather was hot, my grandmother liked him. But she already had a husband, so they couldn’t married, and eloped instead. My great grandfather Pennwater Hobart saw that his master’s daughter had an affair with his son, and felt responsible for it, so he quit as the Graves family butler, and settled down in Freeport near Boston. See—this is short enough, right? Even though she’s not in the direct family line, no matter what she’s a lady with a background, so something like that must have been very humiliating, right?”

“Wow~~That Diane actually—”

Murata brings out Regent’s memories, quietly impressed.

She was the only blonde beauty in the family, and everyone’s ideal woman. Though they were cousins, she was the complete opposite of April, who chased the cows and went for adventures in the woods. April once said that Diane had a fiancé who was always punctual, though he couldn’t tell if she was boasting or jealous.

“Eloping with the butler’s son, huh—Back then there was no way to tell she would do something like that.”

“Ken.”

The pediatrician frowns behind his gla.s.ses, wis.h.i.+ng that Murata would not talk about them as though they were one.

“Even though I’m his grandson who graduated from Harvard, I still think life is so complicated!”

Beside them, Matthew Orson really respects Gogg as an impressive person. But through a normal point of view, the fact that he’s one of the very few people in the world who graduated from a super famous school only to work as a sniping instructor at a company that seems to have copyrighted another company’s name, may be more surprising than the fact that he’s a soldier’s grandson who entered an Ivy League school.

That’s s.h.i.+buya Shouri’s dream school as well, looks like life is unpredictable.

“So after Diane got married, she stayed at home to watch over this piece of metal… You could say she was entrusted with it, right? But where did she get this from? Don’t tell me it was her dowry?”

“Ah—I overheard on the phone? It’s not Grandmother’s, but Great-grandfather’s possession.”

“The butler’s?”

“Mn, apparently it was because one generation of the Graves family head died in a fire. That person was apparently even older than my great grandfather.”

He’s talking about Hazel Graves.

“Great-grandfather went there to clean up the mess. He couldn’t let the head’s granddaughter go through her own grandmother’s earthly possessions, could he? After all, her grandmother just got burned alive, if they let her into the scene and she found some remains, that would have caused an irredeemable scene. He couldn’t let the adorable young miss face something like this, so he secretly cleaned up as the butler. And then he found this.”

The young Hobart used his chin to point at the piece of metal in Murata’s hands.

“But before the head died, Great-grandfather heard that this piece of metal was inlaid on something else. It’s just that it was burnt so badly no one knew what it was. Could it be part of a s.h.i.+eld or a mirror?”

The three people present naturally wouldn’t reply. One doesn’t know, and while the other two do know, they would rather no one else found out. The more people know about this, the more troublesome things will get.

“Forget it. …Anyway, Great-grandfather heard that the head collected countless precious things… And apparently this is a taboo people shouldn’t touch. That’s why he hid it—he had to protect the cute young miss, so he kept this shrapnel, covered in ash from the fire, by his own side.

Kelly Hobart shrugs in a very American way, the neck and shoulders that aren’t too obvious sinking into his fleshy body.

“Grandmother felt guilty for eloping with Grandfather, so she dutifully obeyed Great-grandfather’s dying wishes. In other words, ‘never give the shrapnel that was found at the scene of the fire to the young lady from the Graves family. If adorable Miss April met the same end the head did, wouldn’t that be bad?”

Since he’s asking for approval, Matthew quickly nods hard. Rodriguez moves his chin as well.

“And then it got to my hands. ‘Gogghart, listen up: no matter what, you can’t give this thing to the Graves family.’ Back then I asked, ‘Okay, Grandma. So what should I do?’ Her expression immediately changed, and she said in a voice like a Salem witch, ‘Just keep it by your side!’ So I just smiled like a good boy and said, ‘Mn, I know!’”

Murata laughs at the large man impersonating an old lady, and subconsciously tightens his hold on the metal piece.

How he wants to turn it around and confirm. It would be great if there were any wooden shards on the other side. It’s okay even if it’s just ash, just a tiny bit…

“But I still feel a little sorry for her. After all, Diane was a lady from the Graves family.”

“You’re wrong.”

When the pediatrician voices his honest thoughts, Kelly Hobart shakes his head sadly. His face and arms are scarlet from the blood rus.h.i.+ng upwards. Although the weather now is slightly chilly, there’s still a light sweat on his forehead.

“Great-grandfather always thought of Diane as his own daughter."

Hearing the determination in Kelly’s words, everyone else falls silent. This is their family problem, their thoughts can’t be understood by outsiders, and outsiders can’t interfere either. All they can say now is—

I see.

“But two years ago when Grandmother went to heaven in search of Grandfather, I started feeling uneasy. It’s probably because the Graves family all came to attend the funeral, right? To think there were some pretty impressive people there, too! There was even someone who claimed she was the high school idol and cheerleading captain, plus a world famous treasure hunter.”

That’s Abigail Graves. For all you know Hobart also thinks that koi fish is a very impressive expert on all things j.a.pan. But in a way, since Abigail is his distant relative and a fellow admirer of j.a.panese culture, maybe this is what they mean by blood is thicker than water?

However Hobart is afraid of Abigail, or more precisely he’s hesitant to approach her. In fact, if the two of them sat down and talked properly, they might find a lot of things to talk about.

“I don’t plan on communicating with the other relatives, no matter how impressive they are, if she found out where I live, one day she may break into my house, and then say ‘Return that to me’.” If something like that happened, I’m not confident I can still keep the promise I made to Grandma. Then I remembered that j.a.pan has the so-called ‘offering’ system.”

“That’s why you thought of talking about it to Jonathan, the shop owner who understands j.a.panese culture. Thanks a lot, Kelly, it was all thanks to you we could find it, you have our sincerest grat.i.tude. Could you give it to me?”

Without waiting for a reply, Murata stuffs the piece of the Box into his pocket. If the other person says no, he plans on running with it.

“Kelly, take my advice, don’t take out your girlfriend’s picture and show it to people on the battlefield.”

Hearing Murata’s suggestion, Hobart sticks up his donut-scented thumb hard,

“I’m not as popular as my grandfather, there’s nothing to worry about!”

Matthew & Rodri’s gazes are full of admiration, it’s almost a reflex action.

On the way back to the hotel, Murata dazedly thinks about everything in his home back in j.a.pan.

Stuff like the entrance to the condos, the stacks of mail boxes, the camel-colored decorations in the elevator, the puppy next door, then his family members. His family started living in those apartments since his parents, and the Graves family may have stayed in Boston since the Reclamation Period. Even the Hobart family, who aren’t that famous, have lived in Freeport since his great grandfather’s generation.

“No wonder there’s no sense of family…”

“What? What’s the matter, Ken?”

“Nothing, I was just thinking that Kelly Hobart is a pretty decent guy.”

The pediatrician sitting next to him with his hair let down laughs, “Gogg, you say—”

“Blonde hair and blue eyes, graduate from an Ivy League university, professional-level skills with the rifle, interesting to talk to. If he was willing to work-out a bit and turn into a muscleman, he’d be perfect. Maybe one day he won’t be able to say he’s not as popular with the ladies as his grandfather, then?”

“Girls aren’t that simple-minded, right—”

For a young person with a proper body but no gun skills, is this something to be happy about? Murata sighs deeply,

“But life sure is unexpected!”

“Why the heck are you suddenly saying that?”

“I’m talking about Diane Graves. As a girl from that time, she was practically perfect. It felt as though ‘the ideal woman’ was a phrase coined for her. Everyone in the Graves family shook their heads and sighed at April, but they weren’t worried about Diane in the slightest. Everyone believed she would marry the perfect person, and then live a perfect life with zero imperfections… That’s what Regent’s memories recorded.”

He feels Rodriguez’s gaze on him, adding,

“But not only did she have an affair with the butler’s son, she even eloped with him. Honestly, when she was in her twenties, it was impossible to imagine her doing something like that. So the future is something even she couldn’t predict.”

“That’s right, and you don’t know what will happen either! Maybe twenty years from now, you’ll be in a rural clinic holding a stethoscope to a villager’s chest, you know!”

“I don’t even know if I want to study the sciences or the arts.”

Matthew suddenly slows down the RANGEROVER, and then immediately returns to the initial speed, so it shouldn’t be some problem with car. Maybe he’s affirming the ‘Deer Crossing’ sign?

“…Does Bob know?”

“Hm? Bob wouldn’t be interested in which course you’ll be studying, right?”

“Not that, I’m talking about Diane Graves’ life. The fact that she married Pennwater Hobart’s son… No, he definitely knows that, and he must have gone around them like a new butler. But what about the piece of the Box?”

Driven by his unease, Murata grips the metal piece in his pocket tightly. The oil paper in his hand is even crumpled by his grip.

“Does Bob know that Mr Hobart and Diane were always protecting a piece from ‘Inferno on the Tundra’?”

“Mn—”

The car slows down again, this time evidently headed for the roadside, but it quickly returns to the center of the road. After confirming that Matthew is awake, Rodriguez murmurs again,

“Mn… I’m not sure—Even if he is the Maou, he wouldn’t purposely expose the secret an old person tried so desperately to hide, right? Though if they came here to fight over it at least there won’t be the danger of a bullet storm.”

“An old person’s desperation, huh? Literally speaking, they’re both—Mm-gah!”

The impact from behind almost makes Murata bite his tongue, his back bouncing away from the seat, the seatbelt sinking deep into his stomach.

“W-what happened!?”

“It’s kamikaze!”

The moment he hears kamikaze, the j.a.panese history expert Murata reacts instinctively,

“Eh? Kublai!?”

“Aw, come on, Ken, talk in a language Mexicans understand—”

As the atmosphere in the car descends into panic, there are two more impacts that sound like ‘Gas.h.!.+ Kas.h.!.+’

“The car behind us looked really suspicious, so I tried many times to let them overtake me, but he just won’t! Looks like we’re being followed!”

“F-f-followed, w-w-w-w-why--!?”

“I have no idea what’s going on, and then that person suddenly attacked us!”

Even if they escape to the opposite car lane, the car behind them keeps on their tail, continuously ramming into them. Murata finally manages to turn around and observe the car attacking them. Rodriguez, on the other hand, is being tortured by the safety belt.

“No way? Mm-yeah! It’s Bob’s people, mm-yeah! A subst.i.tute!? Even so, he discovered my betrayal way too fast--!”

“No, no matter what Bob won’t send an old person as an a.s.sa.s.sin.”

The old lady whose eyes are wide as saucers, sits in the driver seat of the red PLYMOUTH that keeps ramming into them. She’s so scared all her white hair is standing, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. It looks like she’s not attacking them on purpose.

“d.a.m.n, her brakes are not working!”

The old lady and the red car. It sounds like the t.i.tle of a picture book, which makes people smile in spite of themselves, but in reality they have to add ‘from h.e.l.l’ or ‘nightmarish’ somewhere in the middle to describe this. It’s not fun and games anymore when you’re being collided into.

After a series of intense collisions, with one more crash the RANGEROVER dashes to the shoulder across the road, protected by the little bit of fencing, and finally comes to a stop on the road. As for the PLYMOUTH chasing the fender of the RANGEROVER intently, it destroys the bucket-shaped seat and flies over the road shoulder. Unfortunately, there isn’t a fence in front of the PLYMOUTH.

The old lady’s red car falls off a five meter tall slope.

They watch in horror as the car flies out. After a moment, the driver at the bottom of the slope opens the driver seat door, staggering out. There’s blood on her forehead, but she can still stand on her own, so she should be fine.

Rodriguez and Orson hold out their hands for the old lady, trying to grab her hand and pull her up, but for some reason she keeps shaking her head and resisting, refusing to climb up the slope and yelling in a voice hoa.r.s.e from agitation,

“Help! Help!”

“We’re already helping you—Come up here quick, ma’am. Or could it be that the leaking oil has made it slippery?”

Maybe it’s because the oil tank has been destroyed, the PLYMOUTH is leaking some liquid that dyes the gra.s.s underneath black. The old lady smells the leather seats burning, her voice getting even more agitated,

“My granddaughter is inside!”

“Eh!?”

Matthew’s phone is in the car, Rodriguez’s flip phone was destroyed by the impact of the collisions just now. There aren’t any cars pa.s.sing by, either.

There’s no time to hesitate!

Murata slides down the slope. He rushes to the car and tries to open the door, but it doesn’t budge—turns out it’s locked.

“Ken, break the window! Break it!”

“You tell me to break it, but with what!?”

All he sees around him is nothing but wild gra.s.s, forget a pipe or log, there isn’t even a stone. He can’t possibly break reinforced gla.s.s with his hands, can he? There are no tools, what to do…

There’s a little girl in the seat. She’s fastened in the children’s seat, her red face looking like she’s about to cry. She may not know what’s happened, only feeling terrified. Her brown eyes stare at Murata, and she reaches out her little hand towards him through the car window.

There is something, though?

There’s a distinct heaviness in the pocket of his s.h.i.+rt.

I have something to break the gla.s.s with.

“Close your eyes!”

He grips the metal piece wrapped in oil paper that he just obtained tightly, attacking the car gla.s.s with the sharp end. The first knock spreads cobweb cracks across the gla.s.s, the second shatters the gla.s.s everywhere.

“Come here, it’s okay.”

He picks up the light body from the seat, rus.h.i.+ng up the slope. After three, four steps he sees Rodriguez’s outstretched hand, and hurriedly hands over the crying girl. After he heaves a sigh of relief, he realizes that his body has become exceptionally lighter—his s.h.i.+rt has gotten lighter, the pocket empty. He quickly turns around, and there’s a black object near the b.u.mper of the flattened PLYMOUTH, fallen amongst the oil-soaked gra.s.s and so hard to see clearly.

“c.r.a.p…”

“No, Ken, don’t go back!”

Murata turns around and runs, a voice stopping him from behind.

Jose Rodriguez is an excellent pediatrician, and a friendly, kind person. Since he was young, before he knew about the strange condition he had, that man has doted on him, more so than his own parents. That man is the one who protected him since before he was born.

Josie is always right.

But this is the only time he cannot obey him.

Once he loses that, he might never be able to grasp his tracks again.

Murata rushes to the PLYMOUTH, his footsteps staggering, and half lies down to reach his hand out for the piece of the Box, first hooking it with his finger, and then grabbing hold of the mysterious, warm triangular piece of metal. He holds it tightly in his palm in case it drops.

Just then, something sparkles in the right corner of his vision.

He sees a spot of orange in the engine valve, and a fire inside.

“Ken!?”

Looks like I was wrong.

Murata ignores his broken gla.s.ses, laughing at himself.

If he stays here any longer he would definitely be caught in the explosion.

If that person were here, maybe he would look down on me, who couldn’t even save one child? But he probably wouldn’t go to the extent of looking down on me, because he’s a good guy. He’d definitely be disappointed, though.

The sky and the earth go upside down, the gra.s.s and trees that were fine a moment ago now sway left and right like plants in the sea. The world twists at a ninety dress angle, all the straight lines curving.

The flames surrounding him coil upwards like a spring. The fire is strong, but not hot in the slightest, even though he does smell hair and clothes burning. Thinking about the fleshy skeleton, he suddenly feels like laughing.

But before Murata can laugh, he’s suffocated by the heat. From the distance comes the doctor’s yells.

He just knows that he won’t die, otherwise he couldn’t possibly be this calm.

The shard is using the power of the flames and the explosion, preparing to return to where the Box is. It could just be ash, or a splinter of wood stuck behind the metal, getting ready to chase the Box it spent eternity with, jumping to a completely different world. As long as he can withstand this impact, Murata’s body should be able to follow it. Hazel Graves experienced this pain before.

But s.h.i.+buya, next time you want to go to that world, remember to take me along with you. I’d rather not go for this way again.

Because it hurts way too much.