Case 06: Rororo (1)

It was on a Monday afternoon in October when I picked up a piece of paper with these words written on it. It was lying in front of the student bulletin board; I had gone there to get information about class cancellations and noticed a piece of paper lying on the ground.

“The hell is this?”

If you look at the text alone, it seems somewhat philosophical, like a poem of an excessively self-conscious student. I didn't pay any attention to it at the time, and I quickly tucked it into my pocket as an acquaintance approached me. I wasn’t particularly interested in it or anything, thinking I’d just throw it away in a trash bag later. However, a few days after that, I was in the main auditorium during a lecture on Introduction to Political Science, when I noticed that something was stuck on the edge of the compartment of my desk. It was a page of a notebook that seemed to have been torn out, and when I picked it up and unfolded it, I found the following:

『I see, The book was the origin.』

I remembered the meticulous handwriting. Coincidentally, I was wearing the same jeans that day, so I felt around in my pockets and found the piece of paper that I had picked up in front of the bulletin board. I compared the two, and it was exactly as I thought. It felt like a continuation of the note I had found earlier.

But is that really possible?

The possibility that the same person will pick up two scraps of paper that some student randomly threw away, Am I too much of a romantic to believe that it was more than mere coincidence and instead, a fateful event? The thought briefly flashed across my mind, but I still didn’t pay it too much heed at the time.

The moment I started paying it heed, was when I was headed to the western club building, and bumped into Yoishi Mitsurugi , who was heading home from school -- somehow or another we ended up going to a coffee shop where we talked about it.

“This person is no longer alive.”

“Huh?”

“Yes, I believe they’re dead.”

Startled, I stared at Yoishi’s pale face, she was taking a sip of milk tea as if she had said something trivial. I then asked:

“H-hold on a second. You’re saying a dead person wrote this?”

“That’s not it, I’m just saying there’s a chance they died after they wrote it.”

“Even if that’s the case, that’s damn creepy.”

I said so, but Yoishi looked more vacant than ever.

A black blazer and a black skirt. A black tie on a white blouse. Navy blue socks and black leather shoes. In the beginning of October, the Koumei affiliated high school changed to winter clothes, and I didn’t know whether to call her winter uniform stylish or funeral attire; Her dark eyes shined as she gave a vacant look. Her black hair, which was originally beautiful, was somewhat unkempt, and her eyes were bloodshot, as if she hadn't slept at all.

That’s right, the reason why I invited her to this coffee shop was because I saw her wandering around like a ghost as usual. I had a lot of questions I wanted to ask her, about the clock tower and about Miiko, but they were all thrown away to the wayside the moment I saw the way she walked out of the main high school gate, it was as if she were drifting in the sky. So, I called out to her, "Hey, I'll buy you a cup of coffee," grabbed her by the arm and dragged her here. Anyway, I was worried because it felt like she didn’t care if she disappeared from this world.

“You still haven't solved your problem, have you?”

“I don’t think it can ever be solved.” Yoishi muttered as she rested her chin on hands to cover her mouth.

I shrugged my shoulders, and for some reason, looked around the coffee shop.

The coffee shop was in front of the station on the second floor, and although it was my first time coming here, it was a quiet store with a relaxing atmosphere. A modern bossa nova was playing in the background, and all the interior decorations, such as lights, tables, and clown figurines, were all antiques.

Maybe I’ll come back here to read a book next time, I thought to myself.

“But, it’s strange.”

Suddenly hearing that voice, I turned to face Yoishi who was looking down at the two scraps of paper I had handed her.

“If this note is a memo to oneself, then there's no need to cut it off, and if it's a message to someone else, it's too all-encompassing.”

“Well, that’s true.” I nodded.

“Look, isn’t it by some kind of poet? Lately, I've been hanging out a lot in the western club building, and there are countless guys composing their own poetry. Especially in the A wing of the Humanities Club, there are a lot of aspiring creators who have a creative fever that can’t be stopped.”

“Did any of them die recently?”

“You’re gonna stay obsessed about the dead guys to the very end, huh?”

I asked humorously, yet Yoishi nodded with a blank expression.

“After all, Kotodama are words packed with feeling.”

I felt a hint of something cold in her words.

“…Kotodama,* you say?”

“That’s right --- The words we normally use without concern also have the characteristics of a curse. Have you ever heard of taboo words? Like Kameari was originally called Kamenashi,* or how parking numbers and room numbers in hospitals avoid using the numbers four and nine – Originally, the people of this country were prudent in the words they used, and the sounds they produced. They feared that anything spoken out loud would one day come to pass. Compared to that, contemporary people are rather callous in the words they use.”

“Well, let’s leave aside the problem of contemporary people.”

After rebuking Yoishi, who had suddenly started to get fired up, I asked her once again.

“How do you connect that with this note? And the guy writing it being dead?”

“After all, these words are trembling with power.”

Those words gave me goosebumps, completely filling me with horror.

“Trembling --- what?”

“They’re trembling. The letters themselves are shaking. They are shaking as if wandering around for a way out, as if searching for a destination. The more a person's soul is put into a text, the more it trembles with power as a kotodama.”

“No -- but this could have just been written by a living person with a tremendous amount of emotions put into it, right?”

“No…”

Thereupon, Yoishi suddenly looked behind me.

“Over there.”

“—Huh?”

“A man around your age. I don’t think he’s a vengeful ghost.”

“W-what are you saying?”

Flustered, I turned around.

But there was no one there. Just two old ladies sitting in a seat behind me, chatting happily. ‘Hey, don’t scare me like that’, I was about to say, when Yoishi quietly continued.

“A striped T-shirt and jeans. A grave look on his face. Short hair. He appeared there ever since you started talking about the string of words on that piece of paper. He’s been staring at the paper for a long time.”

Yoishi’s eyes shone with amusement as she looked over my shoulder.

--Hey, are you serious?

Immediately, I began to feel the raw presence of someone behind my back, and I sat up. You gotta be kidding me. I don't want to get possessed just because I happened to pick up a piece of paper.

“Yoishi, I’m leaving.”

I picked up the receipt and said that, but Yoishi was still calm as ever sitting back in her chair as she spoke:

“There might be something he wants to tell us.”

“Don’t drag me into it. You’re the one who can see him, so you go ahead and ask.”

“I’ve rarely been able to talk to ghosts. Mostly, they’re just there.”

Yoishi continued to stare behind me while she spoke. She’s probably trying to read the ghosts’ facial expressions and gestures, but it’s downright creepy because I’m right in her line of sight. I couldn’t stand to keep sitting in that seat anymore, so I moved next to Yoishi. In short, we were both facing that striped shirt guy. I slowly traced my eyes to where Yoishi was looking at. I thought I might be able to see something vaguely, but I couldn't see anything. The only thing that happened was that the two old ladies turned to look at us, startled by the suspicious pairs of eyes gazing at them. This is bad. They’re gonna complain if we don’t stop.

“H-hey Yoishi, let’s just go.”

“Wait, he’s saying something.” Yoishi abruptly stopped me.

“…Eh?”

“He keeps muttering something…repeating the same words with his mouth.”

However, Yoishi's gaze was now completely focused on the two ladies who had been sitting behind me earlier, and they were giving us a very dangerous look. A fearsome gaze, as if to say, ‘You wanna fight? Bring it on.’

“S-sorry. We’ll leave right away.”

Right away, I preemptively apologized to the two ladies. When –

“---Ro, ro , ro.”

Yoishi uttered the bizarre words with a look of delight.

“He's repeating, ‘Rororo.’”