Chapter 8: Princess

Shiori couldn’t sleep. She tossed in bed, her eyes returning to the book on her desk.

Shiori had promised Tsubame not to read it unless Otonashi was nearby.

Neither trusted the mysterious boy, but only he could stop Kryptics.

What would have happened if he hadn't rescued them? Could Shiori learn magic?

What bothered her most was Otonashi calling her a Princess. In Kryptopeda, Princesses were chosen by fate, not born to royal parents. Kawamura's books featured girls selected by fate to be a Princess, destined to rebirth the royal empire and end the war.

Princesses were the only humans hated more than Speakers. They were hunted, taken captive, or forced to live as hermits.

Every Princess could learn to speak true words, to practice magic. A regular Speaker, man or woman, could learn and use magic, but only Royalty could create new words and new spells.

A Princess started the millennia-long war. After all Royalty were killed a new Princess would emerge every generation, chosen by fate to suffer hatred from the people or live as pawns of the Usurper warlords. The most recent Princess won her freedom and a decisive victory. She reclaimed the throne and read the words carved in it.

Her servants and friends hoped she’d use her power to learn The Last Word from the throne’s inscription. She was supposed to finally save Kryptopeda, not destroy it.

Was Shiori the next Princess?

She wished she knew what was happening to Motohara-senpai. She felt alone, and a silly resentment at being abandoned nagged at her as she turned in bed. It wasn't his fault, but she wanted to see him again.

She promised Tsubame not to read the book, but it was the only source of answers.

Besides, Otonashi promised to rescue them if more Kryptics appeared.

How would the mysterious boy know if she was being attacked? How far away could he detect a Kryptic incursion to rescue her?

Otonashi said someone used magic in the playground. That was why he found the two girls so quickly. Was there another Speaker besides Otonashi?

She shouldn’t read the book, but hours of failing to sleep had frayed her self-control.

The book opened easily to the bookmarked page. So many pages were unread. Was her story going to be a tragedy like most Princesses?

She looked at it through the small makeup mirror on her desk. There was no writing in the book after her last reading. The book wrote itself as she read it. To her the blank pages seemed to have text that appeared only as she read it. As she looked at the page again, she had a strange headache, like after remembering Motohara-senpai.

In a flash of insight she realized the book might have been the spell that guided Otonashi to her rescue. Speakers could sense nearby magic.

Shiori began reading the book. She read about their café conversation. Shiori felt the book was unkind, describing her as disagreeable with the amiable Otonashi.

The conversation in her bedroom with Tsubame occupied a short paragraph, then she was reading about herself.

The book continued: “Shiori continued reading, afraid the shadows would congeal around her again.”

That wasn’t fair. She didn’t feel afraid. Reaching up to turn the page, her hand trembled slightly.

Stupid book.

The next page continued: “She hadn’t realized the Outlander waited outside her bedroom window, perched where he could respond to any danger.”

Otonashi was outside her window!

Shiori slammed the book down, heart racing. She expected to see the boy’s face outside the window, but saw only neighboring roofs, the pine tree in her backyard, and the stars. Cautiously she stood, leaning toward the window. Still no sign of Otonashi.

Her mind raced. Speakers not killed by mobs or opposing armies often went insane, taken by dark powers they tried to control or driven mad by the things they tried to comprehend in their search for power.

She referenced the book again, which continued: “The Outlander sat meditating, aware enough to protect the princess from attack but restoring his energy.”

That sounded familiar. Shiori’s books said some Speakers didn’t need to sleep, but meditated instead. She leaned toward her window to see part of her small backyard.

No boy there. She leaned around, looking over the roof she could see. Not there either. Then she saw him atop a utility pole, at least thirty meters high. The fall would kill him. As Shiori’s eyes adjusted, she realized he was facing away from her window, but he was close. So that was how he’d keep his promise to protect her from an attack.

Shiori caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. She jumped back startled, then noticed the bookmark was again showed Motohara’s face. It was working again.

Excitedly she called his name, but blushed at her foolishness. He couldn’t hear her. He was talking and she couldn’t hear anything.

She gestured to him. He smiled. She had only known him for a day, but that smile felt like how the warm sun felt on her face. Did she really know him? Her insecurity melted away under the heat of her desire to go to him. She wanted to talk to him again, to rescue him from that other world.

They tried gesturing to communicate, then quickly gave up. The window was too narrow for clear gestures. Maybe if they knew sign language.

Shiori took out a notebook and wrote: “Are you okay?”

She held the notebook up to Motohara-senpei.

Motohara looked confused and tired. Had he been eating? How hard had his first day in Kryptopeda been? He gestured something, speaking slowly and flipping his hand from palm to back.

Shiori’s brow furrowed, and he stopped trying to communicate in frustration.

Maybe he could write a message to her? She propped up the bookmark and gestured with her pencil and notebook.

Motohara frowned. He probably didn’t have any notebook paper or pencil. He turned to show Shiori the bald dirt of the ground. He wrote in that dirt with a finger, one simple word, as large, clear, and slow as the partially compacted dirt allowed.

The writing looked familiar but wrong. Then Shiori realized it was backward, like viewed through a mirror. It was the symbol for “backward.”

Motohara’s hand appeared, brushing the ground and erasing the symbol Shiori had just read. She almost smacked her forehead in frustration. Of course the writing was backward, like in a mirror. And worse, she had made Motohara reveal, in the domain of Kryptopeda, that he knew how to write.

He could be killed for that if the wrong people saw it.

Shiori considered for a moment. Motohara didn’t look frustrated. Instead he searched her face. Was he concerned about her?

Shiori took the bookmark and propped it up facing away from her. The back showed an empty forest. Motohara-senpai was alone, meaning his indiscretion of writing on the ground should have gone unnoticed.

Next, Shiori set up her desktop makeup mirror to face her and the bookmark. She wrote in bold large letters before pointing her notebook at the mirror.

From Shiori’s perspective, she saw the notebook’s writing backward in the mirror, and Motohara’s delight as he read her message. The mirror flipped the message backward, and by the time the bookmark’s portal had flipped it again, it was easy for the boy to read.

He nodded. Yes, he was in a place called Kryptopeda.

She had too many questions. What should she ask?

She looked up apologetically to Motohara-senpai, but was surprised to find him smiling instead of annoyed. That radiant smile. She wanted to be with him so bad it felt like a rope tied to her chest pulling her forward.

She wrote: “Are the people there looking for a Princess?”

Motohara frowned and considered his answer. He nodded, then pointed the bookmark on the ground. The soil was not good for writing, but Shiori could read the message flipped back to normal by the makeup mirror.

He first wrote “Narrator.” Dimly Shiori recalled, somewhere in Kawamura’s book, that some factions in Kryptopeda called those who used magic ‘Narrators’ instead of ‘Speakers’. She needed to review her books.

Shiori nodded. Motohara seemed surprised she knew about Speakers. She wrote to him: “Speakers are looking for the Princess?”

He looked worried. He wrote: “Earth.”

Motohara knew a Speaker was coming to Earth? Was that Otonashi or some other Speaker?

Next, Motohara wrote three Japanese symbols: “Princess. Search. Kill.”