Zaregoto

Chapter 2

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1. Savant Blue
2. a.s.sembly 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 s.p.a.cious 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 s.p.a.ce.
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
wrist.w.a.tch, 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 b.u.mped 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 pa.s.sed 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.
ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 6
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 pet.i.te 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 G.o.d 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.
ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 9
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
a.s.signment 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
cla.s.sifications 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 ma.s.saged 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 j.a.pan 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.
ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 1 2
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 j.a.pan.
In other words, she had been exiled.
Maybe these days that seems old-fashioned. But far be it
for me to b.u.t.t into other people’s ways of doing things.
Especially if those people belong to a powerful inst.i.tution
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 G.o.dforsaken island in the middle of nowhere, with no
amus.e.m.e.nts, no nothing. In a sense, it was life in h.e.l.l, 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 a.s.sume 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 G.o.d,” 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 embarra.s.sed? 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, a.s.sessing 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.
ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 2 0
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.
ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 2 1
“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 p.r.o.nounce the alphabet like
Romanized j.a.panese, 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 j.a.panese 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
ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 2 2
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
j.a.pan 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.
ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 2 3
“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 s.p.a.ce 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 circ.u.mstances,
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 cla.s.sified 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-cla.s.s, 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-j.a.panese 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
gla.s.ses 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 p.r.i.c.ked my ears to listen in.
“Sente 9-6, p.a.w.n… Kote 8-4, p.a.w.n… Sente, same p.a.w.n…
Kote 8-7, p.a.w.n… Sente 8-4, rook… Kote 2-6, p.a.w.n… Sente
3-2, silver general… Kote 9-5, p.a.w.n… 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, p.a.w.n, 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 h.e.l.l?
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.
ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 3 0
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 h.e.l.l
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 a.s.sembly 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 j.a.panese
woman scholar of the highest order.
The ER3 System is relatively unknown in j.a.pan. 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
j.a.panese way of doing things. But nevertheless, Akane-san
had, as a pure and innocent j.a.panese 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 j.a.pan.
Now, this may all beg the question: if I’m just a “pure and
innocent” j.a.panese 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 partic.i.p.ated 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?”
ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 3 2
“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
a.s.sessment. “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
j.a.panese 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 j.a.pan 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 Rok.u.meikan 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 pa.s.sing 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 j.a.pan, 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 embarra.s.sment. “It’s a stupid
argument, huh? Don’t mind me. It’d be awful if you ended up
ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 3 5
thinking I was that kind of person,” she said. “Shall we change
the subject? You know, I was actually in j.a.pan 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 h.e.l.l 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 s.e.xist 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,
ZAREGOTO: THE KUBIKIRI CYCLE ■■■ 3 7
that rests on the major a.s.sumption that your role and what
you want to do are separate, and the minor a.s.sumption that if
you have to choose between the two, what you want to do

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