"I said, good morning. What were you looking at-"

Then she answered, sounding put-upon, that a tadpole was flying in the sky.

"What?! Wh-where?! Where do you see a tadpole?!"

I thought that was amazing and grew excited, and Asakura leaned in beside me.

"It was over the gym, wriggling through the air."

"Whaaaat? It's not there! Besides, you wouldn't be able to see a tadpole from here! It's too small."

"It was a tadpole as big as a dolphin. It's gone now. There was a terrible accident, so it had to hurry away."

"An accident? What're you talking about?!"

"A terrible crime that's going to shake the whole planet. The tadpole is a detective."

"O-okay, so now what happens? Can the tadpole solve the crime?"

Before I realized it, I was neglecting the goldfish and begging Asakura for the rest of the story.

Her eyes widened suddenly in surprise, and she stared intently at me, but gradually she told me in smooth tones about the plot of the sea anemones, the failure of the dolphins, and the activities of the tadpole.

That was how it all began.

I started coming to school early every once in a while and begging her for stories.

It was magic the way she masterfully wove her words together, giving life to one new story after another. And since she would stop at the very best part, it tortured me, wanting to know how it turned out, and I started to spend my breaks and after school with her whenever I could.

"I hate it when people call me Asakura and when they call me Miu like they're talking to a baby. Call me Miu. And I'll call you Konoha."

"But everyone'll make fun of us."

"Does that scare you? You're a coward. If you don't wanna call me that, fine."

"No, I will. I'll call you Miu."

Around that time, Miu started showing her brilliant smile, like beams of light, and only I got to see it.

She demanded attention from me, would randomly hold my hand and pinched my cheeks. I was over the moon for her then.

n.o.body in cla.s.s understands. Miu's not a liar. She can see all these stories that we can't, and she just talks about them as if they're perfectly normal. G.o.d has given Miu a talent totally different from all of us, and she's a special girl.

Miu often showed me her treasures.

Whether it was an electric razor or a small bottle with grape-colored nail polish in it or a screwdriver with a yellow handle on it or a light-blue fluorescent pen or an unopened can of cat food-there were a lot of pretty weird things all mixed together.

Miu took each one in her hand tenderly and told their stories. In there, the razor transformed into a magical item that had belonged to a legendary hero, and the light-blue fluorescent pen became an antique with a magnificent history that had been pa.s.sed from person to person around the world three and a half times.

Miu's imagination was like a song flowing out of the sky.

"Someday I'm going to be like Campanella and take the Milky Way Railroad on a journey to the edge of the universe."

With her gaze that perceived things not of this earth, Miu, murmuring and enraptured, seemed like at any moment she would open the window and fly away. I grew anxious that I would lose her, and tentatively I asked her something.

"Can I be Giovanni and go with you?"

Miu gave me an ever so slightly malicious look.

"Campanella's the only one who can go to the edge of s.p.a.ce. They make Giovanni get off the train partway there."

My heart grew more and more agonized, and half-sobbing, half-dreaming, I appealed to her.

"I don't want to do that. I'll try my very best to go with Campanella. So please? I can go with you, right?"

Miu giggled and tapped my cheek, then whispered in a kind voice.

"Then we should make a map. That way, even if we get separated in s.p.a.ce, we'll be able to find each other."

The fragrance of soap floated over to me, and her perfectly clear eyes peeped adorably, teasingly into my own.

"Yeah! Let's make a map! A map just for me and you, Miu!"

Then we put a sheet of pristine white drawing paper on top of my carpet the color of new gra.s.s, and we drew in a bunch of stuff in colored pencil.

That map, unique in the world, was stuck into the Night of the Milky Way Railroad picture book and shut away inside a drawer.

When Tohko and I spread open the yellowed map, all kinds of things pressed in on my chest, the world around me twisted and untwisted limberly, and I had the sensation that I was going back in time.

Even now, as I walked through the shopping center with Tohko, I discovered Miu and myself in the convenience stores, the bookstore, the flower shop, or the alleys, looking just like we had back then, and it pierced my heart with a jolt.

Tohko came to a stop in front of the pet store.

"This is Taj Mal, the seventh paradise, right? Oh, I see, you fiddled with Tajima, the store's name. You changed Iwate to Iyatorvo, Morioka to Moreeo, just like Kenji Miyazawa, who made a story about imaginary lands. Oh, Konoha, look! Look! It's a Java finch! It's so cute!"

Two little white birds c.o.c.ked their heads and were looking at us from a birdcage hung up outside the shop.

Tohko's eyes softened.

"Hee-hee, their necks are like snow."

Chirp-chirp-chirp, the birds cried.

"...I had a Java finch when I was in elementary school, you know."

"Did you really?"

"Yes. Its name was Kiss-Kiss. It was really cute, and I thought of it as a friend, so I was sad when it died."

I was racked with sobs when that happened. Miu tried as hard as she could to comfort me, and she wiped away my tears with a sky-blue handkerchief that smelled of soap and told me the story of a bird that went to s.p.a.ce.

It was the same when the goldfish I'd helped out with at school died. Miu dug a grave with me, made up a story about the goldfish, and let me listen.

When Miu told stories about events that were so sad they made me cry, they transformed into gentle, beautiful tales.

Thus, Miu truly gave me a lot of stories.

But then sometimes she would be mean to me.

"Wouldn't you have more fun playing with boys instead of me, Konoha? Look, your friend is calling you."

She would also turn her face curtly away when she said these things and make me feel sad.

But when I said I was sorry, that I would stop going off with other people, that I would stay with her, Miu would instantly smile and cling tightly to my arm, allowing me to hear the rest of the story she'd left unfinished. In this way, Miu's words and smiles melted me down like ice cream in the sun, and I achieved an all-too-brief happiness.

Miu was all I wanted, and meeting her was the most miraculous of events, and every one of the stories Miu gave me was a treasure. I would watch her growing prettier every day with a pounding heart.

"Next is the Fountain of Knowledge-it's the library!"

As we walked through the dappled sunlight coming through the trees on the street, Tohko let out an excited cry.

A place with books really did make her heart rejoice, it seemed, and she skipped off in her tan leather shoes.

I had walked any number of times with Miu down this street where the dried leaves of winter danced.

Actually...this was also the place where I'd met Kotobuki for the first time.

The instant I recalled Kotobuki, her gaze wounded, murmuring, "Are you going to see Asakura?" I was yanked abruptly back to reality and felt a throb, as if a burning skewer had gone through my chest.

"Konoha? What's wrong? Are you feeling okay?"

I'd stopped suddenly, and Tohko called out to me worriedly.

"...Yeah," I murmured hoa.r.s.ely and started walking again.

Kotobuki's desolate face had flashed into my mind, and I tried desperately to clear it.

Right now, discovering how Miu felt came first.

What she'd been thinking that day when she jumped off the roof.

What she'd wished for.

I had to uncover the truth about Miu.

Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to face Kotobuki- I clutched at my aching chest through my coat, gulped down air, and approached the place that was br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with memories of being with Miu.

Surrounded by brown trees withered by winter, the two-story library was unchanged.

It was like the library at school or the book club's room-a slightly different scent of books had crept into my nostrils at each one.

There were a lot of people because it was a Sat.u.r.day, and I could hear children's voices. Even the desks in the study corner were all filled up.

That was where Miu had opened her sky-blue binder with the drawing of wings on it and crafted her stories. Beside her, I would gaze at her profile as I did homework, awash in happiness, or let my heart rejoice in the fragrance of soap that came from her slender neck. These things resurfaced one after another and pressed down on my chest.

Miu sc.r.a.ping the back of my hand with her mechanical pencil and winking at me teasingly.

Miu bringing her lips to my ear and whispering softly.

A smile like light.

"I'm gonna be a writer."

"Tons of people are going to read my books. It would be awesome if that made them happy."

"You're special to me, Konoha. So I'm going to tell you what my dream is."

As I grew dizzy with the sweet memories of days gone by, I went to the shelves with the complete works of j.a.panese authors and came to a stop there.

There was a collection of Kenji Miyazawa's works there, too.

As I gazed at the t.i.tles, I thought again about what Campanella had wished for.

About Giovanni and his best friend Campanella who went for a journey on the Milky Way Railroad.

Compared to Giovanni, who was all alone and working to support his sick mother, Campanella-clever, good-looking, and with great personal magnetism-seemed to have everything.

What more could he wish for?

Suddenly I remembered picking up the works of Kenji Miyazawa before.

"Wow, Kenji Miyazawa put out a lot of books, huh?"

Three years earlier, Miu and I were in our second year of middle school.

"I only ever read the picture book of Night of the Milky Way Railroad. You wanna check it out?"

When I said that, Miu had responded in a cold voice that sounded somehow annoyed.

"You're in middle school, and you want to read Kenji Miyazawa? You're such a child, Konoha. Kids' stories are for elementary school."

I had been crestfallen and returned the book I'd taken down to the shelf.

Perhaps the reason it became so hard to breathe when people talked about Kenji Miyazawa was because Miu's sharp gaze that day had burned into my subconscious when she said that.

When I reached out and started to touch the book, it felt like my chest was clamping tight again, and sweat beaded on my forehead and the back of my neck.

I wavered several times, pulled my hand back, reached out again, and each time I saw Miu's reproachful gaze. In the end, I was unable to pick up the book. My hair and clothes stuck to my sweaty body and felt cold. I shuddered and felt ill.