Chương 12: First Meeting
Sengoku had hoped to see both Hito and Ryota waiting for him. But when he walked down to the porch and changed into his shoes, he found Hito alone on the bench.
Sengoku glanced at his shoe locker for the last time, then walked out of the school building. Under a Cherry Blossom tree, Hito sat with his one arm over the bench, the top two buttons of his white shirt unbuttoned and as always, he had no blazer on.
"So, how did it go?" Sengoku asked as he sat beside Hito. "Where is Ryota?"
"How was your meeting? Killed Shiro-san again?" Hito's tone was a matter-of-fact-ly.
Sengoku chuckled. "Yeah. And you? Sent Necro-san to the mountains again?"
Hito pulled his arm off the bench and leaned forward "I just wish they would show up at least once. We won't have to make these stories."
Sengoku's mother had died while giving birth to him, and Hito's mother had left his father for some younger guy – with whom she left the island – and no one knows now whether she is even alive.
"I once asked Father why he never comes to the school." Sengoku's smile faded, and he stared at the dirt on the ground. "He said I will understand once it is time for me to attend my son's meeting."
"I never bothered asking Dad. He would have come up with another dark answer: 'I don't want to curse everyone,' or 'If I go near non-wizards, they will fall dead. They can't handle my necromantic presence."
After a pause, Sengoku said, "I wonder what will I do if Ryota turns out to be a dark wizard just like his grandfather… or even better than him."
Hito frowned at first but then relaxed his facial muscles. "Do you think you could cut ties with him just because he is a dark wizard? I have never seen or even sensed his dark magic."
"That is because you have lost your touch. And about leaving Ryota…" He chuckled again. "He is my only friend after you. After Ojime made my junior school life hell, Ryota was the only guy who ever walked up to me."
"Was it not because you were reading translated books?"
Sengoku nodded with a slight smile. "He acknowledged my liking for literature, unlike Ojime who threw my books and mangas all over the classroom."
After Ojime the bully had set Sengoku as his target, Sengoku had tried to obey his every order and please him. But later realized that the more one would try to please a bully, the superior the bully would feel and the more hellish your life will become.
Finally, when he had graduated the middle school, Sengoku decided to leave the island for High School. So here he was with Hito.
"Then I met Ryota. I still remember the books I was reading and the books he had with him."
Hito raised his eyes as if saying Oh, really? "What books were you reading then?"
Sengoku nodded. Although he had expected Hito to ask, it was fine since he knew the books spread on the library table.
"I was in the library, you were in the classroom completing some assignment. I had just asked Father to order me copies of the trending American novels. Then had them translated from English into Japanese. I was reading 'Salem's Lot'. But I had a copy of Peter Straub's 'Ghost Story' on the table with a copy of the famous horror novel 'The Shining'. It was and still is considered something big in America."
Hito was not surprised. "What was Ryota reading?" he asked in a tone as if wanting to test Sengoku.
He hummed as he thought for a moment. "I guess he had the classics. Yes, 'Dracula' and 'Haunting of the Hill House', and a copy of 'Frankenstein'. He hadn't gotten his hands on translated horror novels yet."
"Wow." Hito sighed, then silence followed. It was not an awkward silence since Hito was one of those few people around whom Sengoku could share peaceful silence.
Sengoku would have turned to write, but he was not good at it. At least not as good as Ryota was. He found himself immersed in the world Ryota had created in his stories. The progression of the plot and the development of the storyline were weak sometimes, but the world-building and character development were where Ryota's talent lay.
Besides that, Sengoku found more pleasure in reading and being Ryota's partner rather than writing. He liked to be immersed, rather than immersing someone. He liked to hear, rather than to tell the story. He liked to read rather than write stories.
And his goal was to go to the Japanese Naval Academy and join the Navy or Marines, just like his father, who was in the second world war.
Hito's words broke through Sengoku's thoughts like an arrow bursting a balloon. "What if Ryota had the same destructive potential as his grandfather? "
'Destructive potential.' Sengoku glared at Hito. 'As if you should say that.'
"Sometimes, that 'what-if' gives me nightmares worse than the horror movies."
"So you wonder too." Hito nodded as he shifted his weight to the other side. "And… is that why you read his stories?"
'What does being a dark wizard has to do with his stories?' He wanted to say, but that would have been rude.
"I read his stories because I like them, just like I read any other stories." Sengoku's reply came humble, just like he had replied to Homerooom Sensei.
"Nah. Do you read his stories to find a hint of magic or something?" Hito looked at him with a grave expression. He was serious, not mocking.
Sengoku acknowledged that thought. Maybe it was somewhere in his subconscious, but yes, he had been trying to find a hint in his stories. But what really did that mean? "What do you mean?"
Hito stretched his arms above his head and groaned. "A writer's stories are his thoughts and his thoughts are a reflection of himself. A writer's reflection is reflected in his stories."
In other words: 'Were you suspecting Ryota the whole time?'
To which the answer was: "Yeah, I do." That was an honest confession of guilt and shame. He had been suspecting his best friend all along and had not even realized it.
"Thought so. I wondered how you could keep up with that quality of stories."
"No. A few of his stories are interesting. And his first novella has potential, it will get accepted, just see." Again, he used the tone he had replied to Homeroom Sensei in.
"His novella? What was it about again?" Hito dropped his hands in his lap and shifted the weight on the handrest.
Immediately, Sengoku replied, "He wrote about three teens who solve the mystery of a house that had reported paranormal activities."
"And? And, Sen? He has written around twenty-five short stories and a novella. From them, even his best is just a copy of Hill Hous Haunting or something. A copy with a few changes."
"It would not be a copy if it has a few changes though…" But now that Sengoku thought about it – the work had surely been inspired or influenced by Jackson's work. He had to admit that. "He does that sometimes. But he does not copy their work as it is. He just takes bits of information and techniques from them, then creates an original version of his own."
"That explanation is not enough, Sen. When others try English-translated works, they will charge him for plagiarism."
"He just takes inspiration from them." But Sengoku could not find any other comeback to stand for his friend. "And anyway, he is only eighteen. Many kids around our age are screwing with their life, be grateful that at least he is serious about his career."
"He is eighteen," Hito nodded, "serious about his career, and bad at writing."
"That is what I said – he has not experienced anything yet. He will learn and improve with his mistakes and experience."
"He would not improve unless he takes a degree or a course."
That statement had the potential to plant a seed of uncertainty and fear. He just wished Hito would not say that in front of Ryota since it would plant insecurity in his heart – and he already had plenty of that.
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