school.”
“Thanks.”
Still, Ryuto kept his face buried against the table for a while.
I couldn’t get my mind off the terror Amemiya had shown just before she shoved Ryuto.
What had she seen? It was definitely over there somewhere…
I remembered where she had been looking and glanced subtly in that direction.
There was a potted plant and behind it a table. There was a coffee cup on the table, but the seat was empty.
Just as I started to convince myself that there was nothing odd about any of that, I realized steam was rising up from the coffee cup.
There was still coffee in it, and it was fresh.
I looked more closely.
There were no bags on the table or the chair.
The person who sat at that table had left without ever touching the coffee, which was still warm.
“Let’s make the rules,” he said.
“From now on, you can’t eat anything unless I give it to you.”
The first day, she took her lunch at school. She had not been given breakfast, so her stomach ached with hunger and she was drooling. It was only to be expected. And it would have been too embarrassing for her to be the only person not eating lunch.
He punished her, locking her in a basement room, and did not give her food for three days.
Shut inside the room, she crouched down, hugging her empty stomach, desperately fighting back the thirst and hunger clawing at the walls of her stomach. She licked the water that dropped from the toilet, stretching out her life.
The morning of the fourth day, he opened the door and brought her food. He fed her with his own hand a sweet vegetable soup and soft bread with chestnuts in it.
Next, when she ate three bites of stew and half of a butteredroll at school, he told her the punishment and did not open the door to the basement room for three days.
She was only half-conscious due to her hunger, and in the dim darkness she saw phantoms of the dead and heard voices weeping vengefully.
He killed us.
He came for revenge.
He is a demon.
She pitched forward onto the floor, and he lifted her limp body in his arms and fed her rice porridge flavored with seven herbs and whitefish and sweet stewed apples and oranges from a silver spoon.
He would not forgive her for even taking one bite of a cookie.
He alluded to her eating the food her friend had given her with a detached, quiet voice, and as she begged for his forgiveness, he took her arm and brought her to the basement room and locked the door.
She spent five days there.
Her throat, rough with thirst, cramped up feverishly, and her stomach was in such violent pain that she felt as if a giant hand were kneading it beneath its knuckles. Her ears roared and she heard things that were not there, and ghostly white lights flitted eerily around the room. She could summon no more tears.
I’m sorry. I will never eat anything unless you give it to me.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I won’t ever eat again. I promise. I’m sorry.
“That’s right. You must not eat.”
He alone in all the world would be the one to fill her empty stomach.
She always felt his gaze upon her.
In the hallway, in the classroom, in the school yard, in the stairwell, he was watching her.
Countless images of his face covered the wall, his eyes burning with pale fire—his eyes filled with hatred—accusing her.
She must not eat. He said she must not eat.
On the bustling streets of the city, in the bright sunlight of the park, at a movie theater filled with couples, whenever she turned around, he was standing there. Everyone she passed became him: the families playing in the park, the couple sitting on a bench talking, the actors projected onto the screen of the movie theater. All of them transformed to wear his face.
His face when he removed his lightly tinted sunglasses and stared at her.
His gaze flickering with fiery hatred and cold insanity like ghostly lights.
He was watching. He was looking at her. He was looking straight at her. He was watching. He kept staring. He was
“Thanks.”
Still, Ryuto kept his face buried against the table for a while.
I couldn’t get my mind off the terror Amemiya had shown just before she shoved Ryuto.
What had she seen? It was definitely over there somewhere…
I remembered where she had been looking and glanced subtly in that direction.
There was a potted plant and behind it a table. There was a coffee cup on the table, but the seat was empty.
Just as I started to convince myself that there was nothing odd about any of that, I realized steam was rising up from the coffee cup.
There was still coffee in it, and it was fresh.
I looked more closely.
There were no bags on the table or the chair.
The person who sat at that table had left without ever touching the coffee, which was still warm.
“Let’s make the rules,” he said.
“From now on, you can’t eat anything unless I give it to you.”
The first day, she took her lunch at school. She had not been given breakfast, so her stomach ached with hunger and she was drooling. It was only to be expected. And it would have been too embarrassing for her to be the only person not eating lunch.
He punished her, locking her in a basement room, and did not give her food for three days.
Shut inside the room, she crouched down, hugging her empty stomach, desperately fighting back the thirst and hunger clawing at the walls of her stomach. She licked the water that dropped from the toilet, stretching out her life.
The morning of the fourth day, he opened the door and brought her food. He fed her with his own hand a sweet vegetable soup and soft bread with chestnuts in it.
Next, when she ate three bites of stew and half of a butteredroll at school, he told her the punishment and did not open the door to the basement room for three days.
She was only half-conscious due to her hunger, and in the dim darkness she saw phantoms of the dead and heard voices weeping vengefully.
He killed us.
He came for revenge.
He is a demon.
She pitched forward onto the floor, and he lifted her limp body in his arms and fed her rice porridge flavored with seven herbs and whitefish and sweet stewed apples and oranges from a silver spoon.
He would not forgive her for even taking one bite of a cookie.
He alluded to her eating the food her friend had given her with a detached, quiet voice, and as she begged for his forgiveness, he took her arm and brought her to the basement room and locked the door.
She spent five days there.
Her throat, rough with thirst, cramped up feverishly, and her stomach was in such violent pain that she felt as if a giant hand were kneading it beneath its knuckles. Her ears roared and she heard things that were not there, and ghostly white lights flitted eerily around the room. She could summon no more tears.
I’m sorry. I will never eat anything unless you give it to me.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I won’t ever eat again. I promise. I’m sorry.
“That’s right. You must not eat.”
He alone in all the world would be the one to fill her empty stomach.
She always felt his gaze upon her.
In the hallway, in the classroom, in the school yard, in the stairwell, he was watching her.
Countless images of his face covered the wall, his eyes burning with pale fire—his eyes filled with hatred—accusing her.
She must not eat. He said she must not eat.
On the bustling streets of the city, in the bright sunlight of the park, at a movie theater filled with couples, whenever she turned around, he was standing there. Everyone she passed became him: the families playing in the park, the couple sitting on a bench talking, the actors projected onto the screen of the movie theater. All of them transformed to wear his face.
His face when he removed his lightly tinted sunglasses and stared at her.
His gaze flickering with fiery hatred and cold insanity like ghostly lights.
He was watching. He was looking at her. He was looking straight at her. He was watching. He kept staring. He was
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