One day Captain Takenori Akagi of Shohoku received a letter from Maki of Kainan.
“What’s this? The Kainan team has invited us over for the week,” said Takenori.
“No, really?” Mitsui plucked the letter out of Takenori’s hands. He was not known for his manners, and such words as “please”, “thank you”, and “you’re welcome” could safely be supposed to be absent from his vocabulary altogether. “It’s like a party for the basketball teams,” said Mitsui, comprehending shockingly accurately the contents of the missive.
“A party? I love parties!” said Hanamichi. “Let’s go!”
“I don’t think we should go,” said Takenori, who infallibly dampened everyone spirits when they were high.
“Why not? It’ll be fun,” said Ayako. “You’re such a killjoy.” She wouldn’t ordinarily have addressed the captain so impertinently, but her fondness for parties outweighed her scruples.
The next moment twenty or so pairs of eyes were looking pleadingly at Akagi.
Akagi couldn’t stand it.
“All right,” he said reluctantly.
At the same time at Shoyo, Fujima had also received a letter from Maki.
“So what do you say?” he said, looking at his teammates with the air of one to whom asking others’ opinions was a mere insignificant formality that wouldn’t make him change his mind. “Ryonan and Shohoko will be there, too. Are you up for it?”
“Of course not,” said Hanagata. He was not very fond of Maki. “How can a guy who’s that old possibly throw a party?”
Fujima pursed his lips. He may have been rivals with Maki, but he had great respect for him.
“Don’t talk like that, Toru,” he said. “Maki’s just as old as you and me. And I went to one of his parties in freshman year. It was good.”
“Pah,” said Hanagata. “Just because Maki’s uncle happened to be a professor at the National Institute of Science, right? Typical.”
“That isn’t the point,” said Fujima coolly. He secretly hoped that Maki’s uncle would be there this time, as well. “The point is that I’m going, and since you’re the vice-captain of the team, it’s your duty to come with me.”
“But—”
“For the prestige of our school.”
Fujima got him that time.
“Yessir,” said Hanagata gravely.
“Where is everyone?” Sendoh asked himself as he arrived at Kainan. The gates were shut firmly and there wasn’t a soul in sight. Kainan was located in a quasi-suburban environment, so the roads generally became empty after sundown. It was empty now as far as the eye could see. The occasional breeze rustled the leaves on the surrounding trees, creating an overall eerie effect. Sendoh was beginning to wish he hadn’t elected to travel to Kainan by himself and had instead taken Uozumi’s suggestion and stayed with the rest of them.
Sendoh smiled to himself. The reason he had decided not to join the rest of his team was because Coach Taoka had arranged a last-minute practice session – something he hadn’t been too keen on attending. So he really didn’t regret his decision.
The skies were black. It was a full moon that evening.
Sendoh was ordinarily too insouciant to be frightened by the thought of ghosts, but intrepidity must inevitably yield to rationality. Rationality told Sendoh that the possibility of being attacked by some malevolent being was quite high when you were alone in unfamiliar territory at night.
As a result, he started violently when a voice whispered his name from his immediate rear.
“Sendoh,” said Hanamichi. He burst into laughter when Sendoh jumped.
“What’s the deal, Hanamichi?” said Sendoh when he landed.
“I just beat you, Sendoh!” said Hanamichi, his laughter echoing around the seemingly deserted neighborhood.
“Quiet,” said Sendoh. “You’ll wake someone up.”
By now the rest of the Shohoku team, which wasn’t used to walking as quickly as Hanamichi, had arrived.
“I don’t take orders from you, loser,” said Hanamichi, and he was about to start on a fresh round of hysterical laughter when Takenori shrewdly decided to punch the lights out of him.
After this was done, Takenori turned and apologized to Sendoh. He liked apologizing to people. He thought it made him an honorable person.
“Oh look, there’s Fujima and Hanagata,” said Sendoh. “Where’s the rest of your team?”
Fujima coughed.
“Apparently they had ‘better things’ to do.”
Hanagata was about to say something but Fujima elbowed him the stomach.
“You, Toru,” he said in a threateningly low tone, “don’t have better things to do.”
“So you’re here, Sendoh.”
It was Uozumi.
“Yeah, I’m here. What took you guys so long?”
“We decided to coordinate our arrival with those of Shoyo and Shohoku,” said Uozumi. “It’s more professional that way.”
“Well, that explains a lot,” said Sendoh dryly.
“What’s everyone waiting for?” demanded Uozumi. “And why are these darned gates shut?”
“If I didn’t know better,” said Mitsui. “I’d say this was all an elaborate practical joke that conniving idiot Maki came up with to make a fool out of us so he could rub it in our faces.”
“Wrong.”
It was Maki.
“I was trying to coordinate opening the gates with your arrival.”
Sendoh sighed.
“What’s it with you and coordination?”
“Coordination is very important.”
“Yeah,” said Kiyota, jumping out from behind Maki, and punching Sendoh in the face.
“Ouch,” said Sendoh. “What did you do that for?”
“You have terrible hand-eye coordination.”
Sendoh wanted to tell him that punching people in the face without warning had nothing to do with hand-eye coordination, but was spared the trouble when Maki punched Kiyota on the side of the head.
“And so do you,” he said.
“Touché.” Kiyota groaned.
Maki led everyone to the basketball court, which had been turned into a dining hall for the occasion. There was a large buffet counter and tables and chairs arranged neatly in rows.
“If you guys are hungry now, you can start on the buffet.”
“Where’s the rest of your team?” asked Ayako.
“Oh, they’ll be here soon.” Maki glanced down at his watch. “They’re supposed to coordinate their arrival with the start of dinner. They should be here just about… now.”
The gym doors opened, and in filed the rest of the Kainan team, led by Takasago.
Jin recited a poem he had made to commemorate the occasion. It had a soporific effect on his audience, and by the time he was done, everyone was ready for bed.
“Not hungry anymore,” said Ryota apologetically. “Too sleepy.”
On Maki’s insistence it was decided that there was no harm in trying out the main course, if only to be polite, and before anyone knew what was happening, that one plate was augmented by another, in some cases, even two more. And people, when they’re stomachs are full, generally like talking about haunted houses, especially when there isn’t anything else to talk about.
“When I was little,” Fujima began.
“You mean littler than you are now,” Hanagata corrected. He had not forgiven Fujima for dragging him along.
Everyone burst into laughter. Fujima glared daggers at Hanagata.
“Sorry, Fujima. Go on,” said Maki. His sides hurt from laughing.
“So, as I was saying,” said Fujima with a cough. “When I was little, we went to America on vacation. In San Jose, California, we saw this mansion called the ‘Winchester Mystery House’. The Winchesters were the owners of a nineteenth-century arms company. Sarah Winchester was saddened by the deaths of her daughter and her husband, so she consulted the ‘Boston Medium’ for advice in the 1880s. The ‘Boston Medium’ told her that her family was cursed, because the guns they had made had been used to take thousands of lives. She told Winchester, ‘Thousands of people have died because of it and their spirits are now seeking vengeance.’ Sarah Winchester was told to move from the East Coast to the West Coast. There she would have to build a house for herself and for the thousands of spirits to rest in peace. She was told that if she ever stopped construction, she would die. So construction began, and continued twenty-four-seven for thirty-eight years! And then Mrs. Winchester stopped construction, and then she died: September 5, 1922.”
Fujima paused to let his story sink into everyone’s head. There were a few gasps, a few yawns, and the eerie sound of Mitsui humming “I love you” from Barney and Friends softly to himself.
“The house had been built up to seven stories high. However, in an earthquake in 1906, much of it was destroyed, so the highest point at present is the fourth floor. It has, if I remember correctly, 160 rooms, including 40 bedrooms and a ballroom. There are 47 fireplaces, 10,000 windowpanes, 17 chimneys, two basements, and three elevators.” Fujima paused again. Dramatic pauses were his specialty – not so much what came before or after them.
“The property during that time was 160 acres, but has shrunk down to just four and a half.”
“Still really big,” said Takenori meaningfully.
“Anyway, Sarah Winchester was believed to have been a very eccentric person. For instance, she considered thirteen her lucky number. Thirteen is also a theme number in her house. For instance, a twelve-candle chandelier was modified to accommodate thirteen; a tiffany-window had thirteen different colored stones, the clothes lines were arranged in multiples of thirteen; and thirteen palm trees had been planted on opposite sides of the front walkway; six on one side and seven on the other. Every Friday the thirteenth, the large bell on the property is rung thirteen times at one PM.” Fujima paused for slightly longer than usual, and it was then that people realized that the story had reached its much-awaited end.
“Ironically, it is Mrs. Winchester’s ghost that is said to haunt the house, although the ‘thousands of other spirits’ are also believed to be there,” said Fujima just when Mitsui and the others were beginning to get comfortable with the thought that they wouldn’t have to listen to Fujima’s blathering anymore. “I went on a flashlight tour on Halloween night.” He grinned.
“So, did you get to see anything paranormal?” asked Maki, since it was his duty as the host to humor his guests.
“Not sure, but I had this strange feeling that the walls and ceilings were shrinking in on me. It made me dizzy back then, but it was probably just a natural effect of the place. The stairs were annoyingly short, but that was only because Mrs. Winchester was short and had severe arthritis. I don’t recall seeing or experiencing anything paranormal.” Fujima shook his head.
“Freaky,” said Jin. “Kainan’s building has exactly a hundred and sixty rooms, as well.”
“Not to mention forty dorm rooms,” said Kiyota with a high-pitched squeal that wouldn’t normally have emitted.
“That’s just coincidence,” said Maki calmly. A good host, according to the book The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Hosts that he had finished reading last week, never allows his guests to feel uncomfortable. “There is nothing paranormal about this place.”
Just then the doors opened and a frightened Miyamasu ran in.
“Maki, oh Maki! It’s terrible!” he shrieked. Maki tried to calm him down, but Miyamasu continued shrieking. “Near the old housing building… I swear I saw someone there!” Miyamasu tried to go on, but couldn’t.
“Er, someone, Miyamasu?” said Maki. “You mean you saw someone there – as in, a person.”
“What else?” Miyamasu shrieked impatiently. “There was a person there. A woman, no less!”
“A woman?”
“A woman! An old woman, wearing glasses and a blue suit, and carrying a cane.”
Jin gasped.
“What is it, Jin?” asked Kiyota.
“The only person who fits that description is Mrs. Marilyn!”
“Nonsense,” said Maki sternly.
“Who’s Mrs. Marilyn?” asked Kogure.
“Mrs. Marilyn was the builder of this school and the original principal. She was a widow, and built Kainan in 1964 to grieve the loss of her son. It was originally an all-boys school. She thought if she built a school, she would be closer to children, who were sort of like surrogate sons to her. She had terrible arthritis all her life, and she died in the early seventies, right when the school’s finishing touches had been completed,” said Jin with the air of one who has painstakingly studied his school’s history.
“What an amusing coincidence,” said Uozumi with a laugh. “It’s just like that boring old story Fujima just told us.”
“It wasn’t a story,” said Fujima darkly. “And it certainly wasn’t boring.”
“Just out of curiosity,” said Hanamichi. “Not because I’m scared or anything, because the genius is never scared. Never!” He made a brave attempt at laughing boldly, which failed. “Just out of curiosity, you weren’t planning on… putting us up in that dormitory, were you?”
“Come with me,” said Maki, and he went outside onto the lawn.
“That’s the dormitory building over there,” said Maki, pointing at a building in the distance. Only its top was visible over the trees. It had a menacingly inhospitable air about it, and might well have been one of those abandoned, haunted houses from horror movies. “Nobody ever goes in there. In 1982 a serial killer took refuge in that building, and slaughtered almost every kid living there. Ever since then the building has been unused. They say that on every anniversary of the butchery, the spirits of the murdered students reawaken, and take over the building for twenty-four long hours. And of course, there’s Mrs. Marilyn, who’s said to constantly patrol the place.”
“So when is this anniversary?” asked Fukuda.
“The thirteenth of June.”
“B-but that’s just four days from now,” said Mitsui. “Today’s Monday and the thirteenth is...” He gasped “Friday!” Suddenly Mitsui wasn’t much of a tough guy anymore.
“So,” said Maki, turning to Hanamichi. “To answer your question: No, we were not planning on putting you up there. Wouldn’t dream of it. We’re setting up sleeping bags in the basketball court.”
Hanamichi heaved a sigh of relief.
“Not that I was scared,” he said. “Just curious.”
“So Maki,” said Ayako. “Did you intentionally call us this week because Friday’s June 13 and the anniversary of this so-called mass murder?” She was a skeptic, and did not approve of lame practical jokes, either.
“Ayako, your sense of deduction is just like... Sherlock House’s!” Ryota was all admiration.
“Holmes,” corrected Ayako, totally undermining Ryota’s attempt to flatter her. “And it doesn’t take a Sherlock Holmes to draw obvious conclusions. Anyway, Maki?”
“Yeah? Oh. No, it wasn’t intentional.”
Miyamasu cleared his throat.
“I have a confession to make.” He laughed sheepishly.
“Yeah?”
“I kind of… panicked, and threw your flashlight into the air. It went into the dormitory building through an open window. I didn’t see which.” He laughed again.
Maki’s jaw dropped.
“You mean… You mean… You mean… my PWR 10,000?!” He seemed to be on the verge of hysterics.
“Yup, that’s the one.” Miyamasu avoided Maki’s eyes.
“Do you know how much it cost me?”
Miyamasu didn’t, but he suspected it was an insane amount of money. When Maki named the amount, Miyamasu’s suspicions were confirmed.
“We’ll have to go in and get it.”
“What do you mean ‘we’?” asked Mitsui nervously, seeing how serious Maki had become.
“We. Now.”
“What’s this? The Kainan team has invited us over for the week,” said Takenori.
“No, really?” Mitsui plucked the letter out of Takenori’s hands. He was not known for his manners, and such words as “please”, “thank you”, and “you’re welcome” could safely be supposed to be absent from his vocabulary altogether. “It’s like a party for the basketball teams,” said Mitsui, comprehending shockingly accurately the contents of the missive.
“A party? I love parties!” said Hanamichi. “Let’s go!”
“I don’t think we should go,” said Takenori, who infallibly dampened everyone spirits when they were high.
“Why not? It’ll be fun,” said Ayako. “You’re such a killjoy.” She wouldn’t ordinarily have addressed the captain so impertinently, but her fondness for parties outweighed her scruples.
The next moment twenty or so pairs of eyes were looking pleadingly at Akagi.
Akagi couldn’t stand it.
“All right,” he said reluctantly.
At the same time at Shoyo, Fujima had also received a letter from Maki.
“So what do you say?” he said, looking at his teammates with the air of one to whom asking others’ opinions was a mere insignificant formality that wouldn’t make him change his mind. “Ryonan and Shohoko will be there, too. Are you up for it?”
“Of course not,” said Hanagata. He was not very fond of Maki. “How can a guy who’s that old possibly throw a party?”
Fujima pursed his lips. He may have been rivals with Maki, but he had great respect for him.
“Don’t talk like that, Toru,” he said. “Maki’s just as old as you and me. And I went to one of his parties in freshman year. It was good.”
“Pah,” said Hanagata. “Just because Maki’s uncle happened to be a professor at the National Institute of Science, right? Typical.”
“That isn’t the point,” said Fujima coolly. He secretly hoped that Maki’s uncle would be there this time, as well. “The point is that I’m going, and since you’re the vice-captain of the team, it’s your duty to come with me.”
“But—”
“For the prestige of our school.”
Fujima got him that time.
“Yessir,” said Hanagata gravely.
“Where is everyone?” Sendoh asked himself as he arrived at Kainan. The gates were shut firmly and there wasn’t a soul in sight. Kainan was located in a quasi-suburban environment, so the roads generally became empty after sundown. It was empty now as far as the eye could see. The occasional breeze rustled the leaves on the surrounding trees, creating an overall eerie effect. Sendoh was beginning to wish he hadn’t elected to travel to Kainan by himself and had instead taken Uozumi’s suggestion and stayed with the rest of them.
Sendoh smiled to himself. The reason he had decided not to join the rest of his team was because Coach Taoka had arranged a last-minute practice session – something he hadn’t been too keen on attending. So he really didn’t regret his decision.
The skies were black. It was a full moon that evening.
Sendoh was ordinarily too insouciant to be frightened by the thought of ghosts, but intrepidity must inevitably yield to rationality. Rationality told Sendoh that the possibility of being attacked by some malevolent being was quite high when you were alone in unfamiliar territory at night.
As a result, he started violently when a voice whispered his name from his immediate rear.
“Sendoh,” said Hanamichi. He burst into laughter when Sendoh jumped.
“What’s the deal, Hanamichi?” said Sendoh when he landed.
“I just beat you, Sendoh!” said Hanamichi, his laughter echoing around the seemingly deserted neighborhood.
“Quiet,” said Sendoh. “You’ll wake someone up.”
By now the rest of the Shohoku team, which wasn’t used to walking as quickly as Hanamichi, had arrived.
“I don’t take orders from you, loser,” said Hanamichi, and he was about to start on a fresh round of hysterical laughter when Takenori shrewdly decided to punch the lights out of him.
After this was done, Takenori turned and apologized to Sendoh. He liked apologizing to people. He thought it made him an honorable person.
“Oh look, there’s Fujima and Hanagata,” said Sendoh. “Where’s the rest of your team?”
Fujima coughed.
“Apparently they had ‘better things’ to do.”
Hanagata was about to say something but Fujima elbowed him the stomach.
“You, Toru,” he said in a threateningly low tone, “don’t have better things to do.”
“So you’re here, Sendoh.”
It was Uozumi.
“Yeah, I’m here. What took you guys so long?”
“We decided to coordinate our arrival with those of Shoyo and Shohoku,” said Uozumi. “It’s more professional that way.”
“Well, that explains a lot,” said Sendoh dryly.
“What’s everyone waiting for?” demanded Uozumi. “And why are these darned gates shut?”
“If I didn’t know better,” said Mitsui. “I’d say this was all an elaborate practical joke that conniving idiot Maki came up with to make a fool out of us so he could rub it in our faces.”
“Wrong.”
It was Maki.
“I was trying to coordinate opening the gates with your arrival.”
Sendoh sighed.
“What’s it with you and coordination?”
“Coordination is very important.”
“Yeah,” said Kiyota, jumping out from behind Maki, and punching Sendoh in the face.
“Ouch,” said Sendoh. “What did you do that for?”
“You have terrible hand-eye coordination.”
Sendoh wanted to tell him that punching people in the face without warning had nothing to do with hand-eye coordination, but was spared the trouble when Maki punched Kiyota on the side of the head.
“And so do you,” he said.
“Touché.” Kiyota groaned.
Maki led everyone to the basketball court, which had been turned into a dining hall for the occasion. There was a large buffet counter and tables and chairs arranged neatly in rows.
“If you guys are hungry now, you can start on the buffet.”
“Where’s the rest of your team?” asked Ayako.
“Oh, they’ll be here soon.” Maki glanced down at his watch. “They’re supposed to coordinate their arrival with the start of dinner. They should be here just about… now.”
The gym doors opened, and in filed the rest of the Kainan team, led by Takasago.
Jin recited a poem he had made to commemorate the occasion. It had a soporific effect on his audience, and by the time he was done, everyone was ready for bed.
“Not hungry anymore,” said Ryota apologetically. “Too sleepy.”
On Maki’s insistence it was decided that there was no harm in trying out the main course, if only to be polite, and before anyone knew what was happening, that one plate was augmented by another, in some cases, even two more. And people, when they’re stomachs are full, generally like talking about haunted houses, especially when there isn’t anything else to talk about.
“When I was little,” Fujima began.
“You mean littler than you are now,” Hanagata corrected. He had not forgiven Fujima for dragging him along.
Everyone burst into laughter. Fujima glared daggers at Hanagata.
“Sorry, Fujima. Go on,” said Maki. His sides hurt from laughing.
“So, as I was saying,” said Fujima with a cough. “When I was little, we went to America on vacation. In San Jose, California, we saw this mansion called the ‘Winchester Mystery House’. The Winchesters were the owners of a nineteenth-century arms company. Sarah Winchester was saddened by the deaths of her daughter and her husband, so she consulted the ‘Boston Medium’ for advice in the 1880s. The ‘Boston Medium’ told her that her family was cursed, because the guns they had made had been used to take thousands of lives. She told Winchester, ‘Thousands of people have died because of it and their spirits are now seeking vengeance.’ Sarah Winchester was told to move from the East Coast to the West Coast. There she would have to build a house for herself and for the thousands of spirits to rest in peace. She was told that if she ever stopped construction, she would die. So construction began, and continued twenty-four-seven for thirty-eight years! And then Mrs. Winchester stopped construction, and then she died: September 5, 1922.”
Fujima paused to let his story sink into everyone’s head. There were a few gasps, a few yawns, and the eerie sound of Mitsui humming “I love you” from Barney and Friends softly to himself.
“The house had been built up to seven stories high. However, in an earthquake in 1906, much of it was destroyed, so the highest point at present is the fourth floor. It has, if I remember correctly, 160 rooms, including 40 bedrooms and a ballroom. There are 47 fireplaces, 10,000 windowpanes, 17 chimneys, two basements, and three elevators.” Fujima paused again. Dramatic pauses were his specialty – not so much what came before or after them.
“The property during that time was 160 acres, but has shrunk down to just four and a half.”
“Still really big,” said Takenori meaningfully.
“Anyway, Sarah Winchester was believed to have been a very eccentric person. For instance, she considered thirteen her lucky number. Thirteen is also a theme number in her house. For instance, a twelve-candle chandelier was modified to accommodate thirteen; a tiffany-window had thirteen different colored stones, the clothes lines were arranged in multiples of thirteen; and thirteen palm trees had been planted on opposite sides of the front walkway; six on one side and seven on the other. Every Friday the thirteenth, the large bell on the property is rung thirteen times at one PM.” Fujima paused for slightly longer than usual, and it was then that people realized that the story had reached its much-awaited end.
“Ironically, it is Mrs. Winchester’s ghost that is said to haunt the house, although the ‘thousands of other spirits’ are also believed to be there,” said Fujima just when Mitsui and the others were beginning to get comfortable with the thought that they wouldn’t have to listen to Fujima’s blathering anymore. “I went on a flashlight tour on Halloween night.” He grinned.
“So, did you get to see anything paranormal?” asked Maki, since it was his duty as the host to humor his guests.
“Not sure, but I had this strange feeling that the walls and ceilings were shrinking in on me. It made me dizzy back then, but it was probably just a natural effect of the place. The stairs were annoyingly short, but that was only because Mrs. Winchester was short and had severe arthritis. I don’t recall seeing or experiencing anything paranormal.” Fujima shook his head.
“Freaky,” said Jin. “Kainan’s building has exactly a hundred and sixty rooms, as well.”
“Not to mention forty dorm rooms,” said Kiyota with a high-pitched squeal that wouldn’t normally have emitted.
“That’s just coincidence,” said Maki calmly. A good host, according to the book The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Hosts that he had finished reading last week, never allows his guests to feel uncomfortable. “There is nothing paranormal about this place.”
Just then the doors opened and a frightened Miyamasu ran in.
“Maki, oh Maki! It’s terrible!” he shrieked. Maki tried to calm him down, but Miyamasu continued shrieking. “Near the old housing building… I swear I saw someone there!” Miyamasu tried to go on, but couldn’t.
“Er, someone, Miyamasu?” said Maki. “You mean you saw someone there – as in, a person.”
“What else?” Miyamasu shrieked impatiently. “There was a person there. A woman, no less!”
“A woman?”
“A woman! An old woman, wearing glasses and a blue suit, and carrying a cane.”
Jin gasped.
“What is it, Jin?” asked Kiyota.
“The only person who fits that description is Mrs. Marilyn!”
“Nonsense,” said Maki sternly.
“Who’s Mrs. Marilyn?” asked Kogure.
“Mrs. Marilyn was the builder of this school and the original principal. She was a widow, and built Kainan in 1964 to grieve the loss of her son. It was originally an all-boys school. She thought if she built a school, she would be closer to children, who were sort of like surrogate sons to her. She had terrible arthritis all her life, and she died in the early seventies, right when the school’s finishing touches had been completed,” said Jin with the air of one who has painstakingly studied his school’s history.
“What an amusing coincidence,” said Uozumi with a laugh. “It’s just like that boring old story Fujima just told us.”
“It wasn’t a story,” said Fujima darkly. “And it certainly wasn’t boring.”
“Just out of curiosity,” said Hanamichi. “Not because I’m scared or anything, because the genius is never scared. Never!” He made a brave attempt at laughing boldly, which failed. “Just out of curiosity, you weren’t planning on… putting us up in that dormitory, were you?”
“Come with me,” said Maki, and he went outside onto the lawn.
“That’s the dormitory building over there,” said Maki, pointing at a building in the distance. Only its top was visible over the trees. It had a menacingly inhospitable air about it, and might well have been one of those abandoned, haunted houses from horror movies. “Nobody ever goes in there. In 1982 a serial killer took refuge in that building, and slaughtered almost every kid living there. Ever since then the building has been unused. They say that on every anniversary of the butchery, the spirits of the murdered students reawaken, and take over the building for twenty-four long hours. And of course, there’s Mrs. Marilyn, who’s said to constantly patrol the place.”
“So when is this anniversary?” asked Fukuda.
“The thirteenth of June.”
“B-but that’s just four days from now,” said Mitsui. “Today’s Monday and the thirteenth is...” He gasped “Friday!” Suddenly Mitsui wasn’t much of a tough guy anymore.
“So,” said Maki, turning to Hanamichi. “To answer your question: No, we were not planning on putting you up there. Wouldn’t dream of it. We’re setting up sleeping bags in the basketball court.”
Hanamichi heaved a sigh of relief.
“Not that I was scared,” he said. “Just curious.”
“So Maki,” said Ayako. “Did you intentionally call us this week because Friday’s June 13 and the anniversary of this so-called mass murder?” She was a skeptic, and did not approve of lame practical jokes, either.
“Ayako, your sense of deduction is just like... Sherlock House’s!” Ryota was all admiration.
“Holmes,” corrected Ayako, totally undermining Ryota’s attempt to flatter her. “And it doesn’t take a Sherlock Holmes to draw obvious conclusions. Anyway, Maki?”
“Yeah? Oh. No, it wasn’t intentional.”
Miyamasu cleared his throat.
“I have a confession to make.” He laughed sheepishly.
“Yeah?”
“I kind of… panicked, and threw your flashlight into the air. It went into the dormitory building through an open window. I didn’t see which.” He laughed again.
Maki’s jaw dropped.
“You mean… You mean… You mean… my PWR 10,000?!” He seemed to be on the verge of hysterics.
“Yup, that’s the one.” Miyamasu avoided Maki’s eyes.
“Do you know how much it cost me?”
Miyamasu didn’t, but he suspected it was an insane amount of money. When Maki named the amount, Miyamasu’s suspicions were confirmed.
“We’ll have to go in and get it.”
“What do you mean ‘we’?” asked Mitsui nervously, seeing how serious Maki had become.
“We. Now.”
● Nights at Kainan ● Chapter 2 ►
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