We Are Similar in that Regard

Ryouma frantically ran back to the Bouquinistes along the Seine. He had to return the book. If he just returned the book, then everything would go back to normal, and his parents would wake up again…right?

The area along the river was quiet and deserted. All the green boxes were closed and padlocked. The sun had only just risen—the booksellers wouldn’t be there opening up shop for several more hours.

Just what the hell was I expecting to happen? Ryouma thought as he paced around, trying to figure out which of the identical boxes belonged to the old man.

He wandered up and down both banks of the river, trying desperately to remember a landmark that might indicate which green box was the one he was looking for. He could only remember the stupid booth selling the vintage erotica. As the sun rose higher in the sky, both Ryouma’s legs and spirit grew tired.

Ryouma crouched down beneath one of the many green boxes, trying to hold back his tears. When he started, there was no one but him, but now the number of people strolling along the riverside was steadily increasing. How many hours had he been out there desperately running around?

“I had a feeling you might come back,” the old man said, setting his folding chair down. “Just hadn’t realized it would be this quick.”

“T-take it back!” Ryouma pleaded, jumping up. He shoved the grimoire back into the old man’s hands. “I’m sorry for stealing it! Just please put my parents back to normal!”

“Your parents, eh?” The old man ran his hands over the leather strap, which Ryouma had hastily rebuckled before leaving the hotel room. “Sorry, lad. Can’t bring back the dead.”

“What…?” Tears escaped Ryouma’s eyes. “What are you saying? N-no! They’re just sleeping! Th-they’ll wake up now that I gave this back!”

“I told you it wasn’t for sale. I told you it was cursed. But you didn’t listen,” scolded the old man. He shook his head in pity. “Damn, bloodthirsty book got another.”

“...B-book? Just what is that book?!”

The old man drummed his fingers on the cover with a solemn expression. “This is one of Faust’s grimoires. He was all about the pursuit of knowledge and power, no matter the cost.”

“Offering required for the exchange of power,” Ryouma murmured, remembering the spell in the book to which he offered his blood.

“It’s a trick. Make ‘em think it’s blood, and they’ll offer it right up. If anyone knew the real cost, they might think twice,” explained the old man. He handed the book back to Ryouma and began setting up his booth as if all of this was just a normal day for him.

Ryouma swallowed hard and stared at the splotchy, worn cover. “W-what’s the real cost?”

“Takes the one thing that’s most precious to you.” He stopped what he was doing for a moment and looked squarely at Ryouma. “Although I seem to recall you offering double the price.”

If someone were to ask the average fourteen-year-old boy what was most precious to them, they might say it’s a game console, a special collectible, or even a cherished pet. For Enishi Ryouma, who was raised with boundless love, it was his parents.

Ryouma’s knees buckled, and he dropped down to the ground. The old man said nothing as he doubled over, crying, hit with the realization of what he’d done.

As the other Bouquinistes began opening up their shops, more people started to congregate in the area. Ryouma could feel their stares and hear their whispers as his despair raged. He wanted to just disappear.

“Hey, old man…” Ryouma called out after his tears ran dry and his eyes were red and puffy. He stood up, holding the book to his chest. Ryouma was at a complete loss for what to do next, but maybe the book seller could help him somehow.

“Oh? You’re still here?” The old man seemed genuinely surprised.

“Still here?! I’ve been here the whole time!” Ryouma snapped.

“Then you cloaked yourself.” The old man stroked his stubbly beard for a moment, deep in thought. “I suppose the exchange of power still works even if one isn’t a sorcerer.”

Ryouma furrowed his brow. “What does that mean?”

“It means you gained something from your sacrifice. Perhaps doubly so, considering you were able to activate your power unconsciously.”

“What? How do you know all of this stuff? Just who exactly are you?”

“Impudent one, aren’t you?” The old man crossed his arms and frowned. “I’m no one special. Just an old sorcerer who was fooled by that book as well.”

Ryouma clutched the book. “What did it take from you?”

“My beloved wife had cancer. I thought that if I sought more power, I might be able to cure her of it.”

He didn’t need to say any more—Ryouma could infer the rest. They’d both gained power at the expense of a loved one, except only one of them knew what to do with that power.

“You said I activated this power without realizing it. Could you…teach me how to use it?” He bowed deeply, pleading with the man. “Please! I don’t know what to do! I don’t think I can go back home now…”

The old man roughly grabbed Ryouma’s right arm. An electrical shock jolted up his arm, and he yanked it out of the old man’s grasp.

“Ouch! What the hell was that?!” he cried, rubbing his wrist.

“Your punishment for the theft,” the old man said curtly, lighting up his pipe.

“What did you do…?” Ryouma looked at his hand to see that the very tips of his fingers were discolored.

“Placed a curse on ya,” he replied, chuckling as he smoked his pipe. “The more magic you use, the worse it’ll get until it kills ya, lad.”

Ryouma’s breath hitched in his throat. That feeling of wanting to challenge someone was creeping up at the old man’s words.

The old man smirked. “Still wanna learn how to use magic?”

“Of course, I do,” he said, clenching his right hand. It made no difference to him whether it killed him or not—he had nothing left to lose.

***

The urban legends surrounding Nishie Hiromasa’s death became conflicting when it came to his son. One version said the son also died in Paris, while another version said the son went missing and was never seen again.

The one that seemed closest to the truth was the one where Nishie’s son turned up in Japan four years later, claiming that he and his parents had been victims of a curse. In that version, the police determined he had been kidnapped and brainwashed. The son became extremely reclusive, then disappeared once more when he turned twenty.

“Did he ever give you a hint at how to break the curse?” Midoriko asked, lightly tracing the border of it on his skin with her finger.

“Not really.” Ryouma sighed. “He told me that if I really wanted to fight it, I’d have to figure out how to stop it on my own. So that’s what I’ve been doing for the past decade.”

She recalled how, when they first met, he told her that he was searching for something in all of the allegedly cursed artifacts he was stealing. Maybe not unlike her, it was something to keep him going in the face of despair.

“You’ve been looking for something to do that, haven’t you?”

“That’s right. Though I have to say, I think I’ve made great progress with it lately,” he said with a chuckle.

“Really?!” Midoriko shot up. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “What did you find?!”

Ryouma smiled broadly and gently stroked Midoriko’s cheek. “My very own expert in curses.”

“Th-that’s–!” Midoriko felt her face flush. Here they were in a state of undress, having gotten to know each other’s bodies, and a comment like that was all it took to get her flustered.

“Yep! And she can cleanse curses, too! She’s amazing!” he said, laughing. Ryouma pushed her onto her back and pinned her down. He looked at Midoriko with eyes full of desire. “And she’s all mine.”

When Ryouma kissed her, she felt herself grow weak at his touch. Midoriko surrendered herself to him, and they entwined their bodies once more.

To her, it seemed like blind faith on his part. However, if he sincerely believed she could break his curse, then maybe she could allow herself to accept his feelings. Maybe she could even reciprocate.

The rest of her break from work continued like that—spending fun days with everyone like a family, and spending nights with Ryouma like lovers. Midoriko knew that it was only further complicating her relationship with him, but at the same time, it might help her understand how she felt.

Soon, those blissful days and nights would have to come to an end.

***

“Are you two going on a walk?” asked Akira, stepping out of his own apartment to see Midoriko and the little girl hand-in-hand.

“G-good evening!” Midoriko said, offering a slight bow in greeting. “Yes. She wanted to go to the playground for a little bit.”

“What a coincidence! I was just about to head in that direction myself. I’ll walk with you!” he said cheerfully.

Of course, it wasn’t a coincidence at all. He’d learned over his period of monitoring the apartment next door that Midoriko and the child went out together in the evenings. This was a perfect opportunity to confirm his suspicions about the girl called Itoko.

“I haven’t seen ya for a bit. Did ya go somewhere?” he asked as they walked together down a quiet, empty side street.

“Oh! Um…Yes, we spent the week on a trip to the mountains.”

“Wow, that sounds nice! Where at?”

“In…another prefecture,” Midoriko said, looking away.

That’s pretty vague, thought Akira. She was usually pretty timid when answering personal questions, but tonight she seemed especially shy.

“Was it just the two of you then?” Akira asked, probing for more information.

“No. Papa and my big brother were there too,” Itoko blurted.

“Hey!” Midoriko hissed.

He noticed her going red in the face. The last time he’d seen Midoriko was when she and Nishikawa were engaging in major PDA. Why was she trying to hide their relationship so badly? Was it to protect Nishikawa?

When they reached the playground, Itoko took off running towards the equipment. Akira joined Midoriko on a bench as the girl ran around.

“I thought you had an errand to run?”

“Nah, I was just headed to a convenience store! I don’t mind hangin’ out.”

“I see,” she said, smiling politely. “How is your summer break going? Are you working for your family again?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m already doin’ that,” he replied, waving his hand dismissively.

“That’s great! I’m also working part-time this summer.” Midoriko seemed to ease up with the conversation shifting to something more neutral.

“Part-time, huh? I bet that means you’ll have plenty of free time.”

Akira remembered the warning he got and grew irritated. He still wanted to go out with her at least once. Nishikawa and the Shishiba-Gumi be damned. She’d said she’d go to dinner with him when her schedule freed up, so he was going to hold her to that.

“That’s true,” she agreed, letting out a soft and feminine giggle.

“Then are you free tomorrow night?” Akira shot her a charming smile. “We could go to that izakaya I was telling you about.”

Midoriko’s face flushed. “I…”

“Midoriko-nee! Look!”

Her attention snapped to Itoko as the girl hung upside down from some playground equipment.

“Hey! Be careful! That’s dangerous!” she scolded, jumping up from the bench. But her warning came a second too late, and the little girl slipped.

Akira moved swiftly and threw himself to the ground to catch the girl. If anything, he could at least make a good impression on Midoriko.

“Akira! No!” Midoriko screeched as Itoko landed softly on top of him.

“Whoa! Are you okay, kiddo?” he asked as he sat up, holding the girl.

The little girl nodded her head as she quickly moved away from him, hiding behind Midoriko’s legs.

“H-how…?” Midoriko murmured as Akira got to his feet.

“I move really fast! Are you impressed?” He laughed as he dusted himself off, but Akira was keenly studying Midoriko’s facial expressions.

She was in complete shock, just like the little girl was when he’d grabbed her on the balcony that one day. It was almost like they were surprised that he was fine.

He was ninety-nine percent sure the little girl was the missing Inukai child—the shinigami that could kill through touch. But if Suwa Midoriko could also touch the girl, that meant she was a neutralizer just like him.