Book Girl and the Captive Fool Read Free Page A

of a girl’s school uniform reached past me and a fist boldly caught the hand in which Akutagawa held the knife.
    “I got you! Caught in the act!”
    The school uniform belonged to the book girl, her long braids swaying like cats’ tails as she leaped out, her breathing wild—it was Tohko, president of the book club.

    Ever since that day when I was made aware of the fact that I’m a contemptible, inferior person, I’ve worked hard to be honorable toward the people around me.
    Ever since that evil day when everything was torn apart, drenched in blood, and passed away to a place I couldn’t reach,I’ve tried to act diligently to avoid making foolish choices again.
    I hoped I would be able to face your wish with sincerity.
    Whenever I think of what you must have felt, what it must have cost you to write this letter, my heart feels like it’s on fire and I feel compelled to do whatever I can.
    But your demands are too cruel. I pushed my sincerity to its limits as best I could and gave the best response I was capable of, but even so, I doubt you were satisfied.
    I can’t give you what you wish for. That would be the insincere act of a demon and would lead to the ruin of everything.

    “Now then, why were you cutting up library books? Start explaining yourself.”
    Back in the book club room, which was overtaken by old books, Tohko was trying to act threatening, like the bad cop in a TV show. A book of stories by Takeo Arishima lay on the rough surface of our wobbly oak table with the pages that had been cut out arrayed next to it.
    Akutagawa was sitting in a chair, hanging his head in silence.
    Yesterday, Tohko had gotten sick after eating my snack and had declared the investigation open. She had been keeping watch at the library in order to catch the slasher right after classes.
    “It looks like my gut was right. The guilty always return to the scene of the crime. Skipping out on cleaning duty and battling hunger while I hid behind that shelf for thirty minutes paid off.”
    She sounded so self-important, I felt myself getting a headache.
    Tohko had dragged Akutagawa straight back to the club room.
    “The part you cut out was a scene from ‘A Bunch of Grapes.’The boy has stolen the art supplies of a classmate, and his deed is revealed in front of everyone. The teacher takes him aside, and just as he feels ready to burst with shame, the teacher places a bunch of grapes on his lap and comforts him—it’s a famous, heartwarming scene! It’s the most delicious scene in this story! Have you ever imagined the pain and the sorrow of the person who’s forced to just eat the skins of grapes without anything inside them?”
    Tohko’s voice was shaking, as if this situation was utterly unprecedented.
    “I don’t think your average high schooler
has
thought about that, actually,” I interjected, and she glared at me.
    “You stay out of it, Konoha.”
    “I don’t care if he is your friend. As a book girl, if food is desecrated at his hands—I mean, if he damages the sanctity of the written word, I can hardly overlook such an act. Why would you do something like that?”
    “Well—”
    As Akutagawa opened his mouth to answer, Tohko’s voice suddenly grew louder.
    “This is my theory. To come right to the point, you are a devotee of naturalism. Your favorite book is
The Quilt
by Katai Tayama.”
    At this preposterous declaration, Akutagawa and I both turned and gaped at Tohko, whose nose was thrust confidently into the air.
    “ ‘A Bunch of Grapes,’ which you rendered incorporeal, was written by Takeo Arishima, one of the literary men who congregated in the artists’ group called the White Birch Society, and was published at the turn of the century. The counterpart to the White Birch Society, which loudly extolled humanitarianism and idealism, was the naturalists—literature which sought todescribe reality objectively and which was personified by Katai Tayama. The White Birch Society actually arose from a