The Disappearance of Mr. Izawa

Faint sounds, voices mixed with music reach my ears as I come down the stairs. Cautiously, I approach the living room, only to let out a sigh of relief. As I thought, he simply forgot to switch the TV off before leaving for work.

    He… Kenzō Hoshimori. Saying his name is already a pain in the ass. I’d never think of calling him any other way. Even if people can’t get it.

    Walking to the kitchen, I glance at the fridge’s content. A box or two of leftovers, fruits, a bowl of nattō. Kinda stinky.

    A child shouldn’t call their parents by their first name, I guess. But the words they expect from me… aren’t they supposed to carry some sort of affection? Or respect at the very least? I never felt the urge to use such words.

    Reaching out for the leftovers, my fingers hover for a moment next to the plastic box before withdrawing with a wince. Instead, I grab a small carton of milk and head for the living room.

“Yokohama authorities still aren’t able to state with certainty if the terrible fire, which devastated this school two days ago, is the result of an unfortunate accident or a criminal will to affect our youth’s education. Awaiting an alternative, they are hundreds of ‘school orphans’ to-”

    Drawing in a sip of chocolate milk, I switch off the TV with my free hand.

    I already hated weekends, but with the school having burnt down, day after day it’s just gonna be a never-ending weekend now.

    I feel numb…

    Not that I would prefer to be at school. Hehh. It would be funny of me to miss that place. But… staying here, waiting inevitably for the hours to pass, for the end of the day to come and bring back with it the other people living in this house… How nauseating.

    Unwilling to linger in this room, I return upstairs, my fingers running along the wooden railing.

    Should I go outside?.. Going under the bridge has become pointless. I should go and search for Mr. Izawa instead. With magic, it’ll be easier. At least, that’s what I thought. Yet, how exactly am I supposed to make advantage of it? What will happen if I use it again? Will I begin forgetting things without even noticing? Not that I could openly use it during the day, anyway. The more I think about it, the more I start believing that beating up Jikininkis and hoping to get some hints is the best I can do. But… are they even able to talk?

    Back in my bedroom, I make sure to lock the door before returning to my favourite spot of this ohh so wonderful place. Sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall.

    A thud.

    Rather attempting to lean against it. An annoyed sigh crosses my lips. I keep forgetting about that key stuck in my back. If this life, this mess, is all the creation of a god, then it’s of a twisted one.

    Raising my head, I lean the back of my head against the wall. That much, at least, I still can.

    Blankly, I stare at the ceiling, wondering if gluing some phosphorescent stickers up there would make this room feel less empty.

    At the same time, a knock sounds, my shoulders stiffening. Are they back? Isn’t that too early?

    Another knock.

    I widen my eyes. These aren’t knocks against any door, but against glass. Dumbfounded, I stand up and approach the window so that I can draw the curtains.

    The first thing I see makes me wince more than it leaves me taken aback. The ventriloquist…

“Not him again!!”

    Without a second thought, I draw back the curtains, turning my back to the window. I barely have the time to make a few steps before a monumental noise informs me that common sense isn’t an asset Rubeus was gifted at birth.

    The curtains waved by a non-existent wind, I can only kneel while Rubeus surges into my room along with a rain of glass splinters.

“What’s fucking wrong with you?!” I yell, straightening up.

    The brat sure takes his time to serenely stand up and take a few glass shards off his clothes.

“You weren’t opening.” Poltergeist simply notes.

“Maybe because I didn’t want to see you??” I rail against him. “What are you even doing here?”

“Look, girl. You didn’t exactly leave us a choice there. Rubeus sent you countless messages, we even called, but you never replied. What are you? Sleeping beauty?”

“Ughh…”

    I roll my eyes, wondering what holds me back from catching Rubeus by the collar and sending him flying back through that goddamn window.

    As if I’ve been in the mood to take a look at it. Sure, I heard the notifications. Had I checked them? I hadn’t even touched my phone.

    But… as much as I hate admitting it, I didn’t exactly mind hearing them. It filled a bit of the silence.

“Then? State your business, dumbass.” I end up adding.

“That’s what I was about to do, bitch.” Poltergeist replies without missing a beat. “You’re part of the troop now, don’t forget it. You can’t keep acting as if you were alone.”

    I don’t hold back a snort. The audacity of that boy.

“So you’ve come to lecture me?”

“Partly, sure. Bur for now, let’s go before it gets late.”

“Where?” I frown.

“That’s what you’re supposed to tell me.”

    Poltergeist words leave me dumbfounded once again. What is this even supposed to mean?

“Is this some exotic way to beg for a date? Are you this desperate? Like sure, I can easily picture how difficult it must be for you to find someone that wouldn’t end up pissed off at your mere sight, but still-”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re gonna tell me the last place you saw that Mr. Izawa, and we’re gonna investigate.”

“…Ahh…. Hahh?”

    With a snap of his fingers, bluish filaments appear out of nowhere, wrapping around the glass splinters, one by one, lifting them as they get replaced. The filaments somehow hold them into place, permeating the cracks.

⋆༺♱༻⋆

“I thought you didn’t give a damn about that.” I note with a suspicious side glance at Rubeus. “You told me to abandon the idea of finding Mr. Izawa.”

    The sound of flowing water melds with the city’s noises. Occasional cars pass us faster than they should, people blather about economy and meetings on their phones.

“I told you to abandon the idea of finding him alive.” The white rabbit shrugs. “That doesn’t mean you can’t keep looking for him.”

    I frown.

“That doesn’t mean you need to get involved.”

    A giggle, a heartily mocking one.

“Girl. Of course I’m involved now.”

    Rubeus takes a few more steps before turning to face me, allowing Poltergeist to continue.

“You’re part of the troop. If one of us has a problem, then the whole troop has.”

    Is this that easy? Is this all it takes? ‘Guess it’s some sort of pity you get as a welcome gift among them. Well, not like he cares, of course.

“Oh yeah, pretty ideals.” I irony-filled reply, resuming my walk, bypassing Rubeus. “You want a medal?”

    But I’ll take it.

    Deep down, I’d prefer to search alone rather than taking the risk to get mocked once again. That said, considering how I’m at a loss for clues, maybe I can give this a try.

    Down the grassy hill, I join the shoreline. My steps guide me on a trail I know by heart. But unlike the many times they traced this path before, this time my legs feel heavier. Reluctant to lead me to a place I know is empty of the relief I used to find there.

    Light weakens as we finally reach the place under the bridge. Lowering my head, I stare at the fishing rod on the ground.

“This is the last place I saw Mr. Izawa, nine days ago. It was almost dusk when he chased me from here, so that I’d be able to return home before night. I remember waving him goodbye and he even smiled back…” I briefly clench my fist, realising I’m getting off track. “Next day when I returned under the bridge, I found his fishing rod laying on the ground. He always took care of his fishing gear, so I knew at once that something was wrong.” I pause before adding on a bitter note. “If I had known… I wouldn’t have left.”

“The man spent his life fishing or…?” Poltergeist chimes in as Rubeus stops by my side. “Look. I know what happened. He fell asleep aaaand in da water.”

“No.”

    Ignoring the way he’s playing with my nerves, I bypass Rubeus, stepping away from the waterfront. I take my school bag off my shoulders, letting it fall next to my feet with a thud. Kneeling, I unzip it and retrieve a cap from its depths. A black and golden one.

“It’s his cap. He always wore one, and I found it right here.” My grip on the cap tightens. “It’s too far from the water. It’s like… maybe he first let go of his fishing rod in a hurry, before having to fight something or someone. He would have lost his cap in the mess.”

“Right here, you say?”

“Yes.”

    Rubeus takes a few steps around, scanning the area.

“There’s no trace of blood. Under the bridge…” Poltergeist observes, his paw rubbing the spot right under his chin, “the rain wouldn’t have erased it.”

“Yeah, there was no such trace even when I found it.”

    For a while, the marionette says nothing more. Rubeus takes a step closer before kneeling, his fingertips brushing the ground, as if searching for something his eyes can’t see.

    They freeze, Rubeus opening his mouth.

“This is…” He utters.

“What?”

    I await an answer that doesn’t come, another voice growing closer instead. A voice that isn’t Poltergeist’s, nor mine.

“…Don’t wait for me this evening, I might come late. …This. Work never ends, you know how it is. I’ll buy you a gin at the bar next time.”

    I don’t even have the time to turn my head before Rubeus grabs my arm, forcing me to stand and run to hide behind the bridge’s arch.

“What are you doing?!” I yell at him in a whisper.

“Shh!!” Poltergeist silences me. “Are you sure you’re the only one looking for that Mr. Izawa? Do you know what would happen if the police find a magic holder on a crime scene?”