Chapter 4: The Almost-Reveal Overheard in the Stacks
The days leading up to the Cultural Festival settled into a tense rhythm, a cold war fought in the corridors of Seiryo High.
Our exchanges were brief, brutal, and brutally polite.
When I submitted the budget proposal for the Web Fiction Cafe—a document Daiki had decorated with chibi drawings of maids, which I'd thankfully erased—I placed it on Akari Hoshino's desk in the Student Council room. She didn't look up from her papers.
"The form is filled out correctly," she stated, her voice as crisp as a winter morning. "Your request for a 'high-capacity bubble machine' is, however, denied."
"A tragedy for art, but my spirit will endure," I'd replied to the top of her head. "Do notify me via raven if you approve the rest."
Her pen stopped moving for a fraction of a second before resuming its silent, furious scratching. That was the extent of our conversation.
Our friends were caught in the crossfire. Daiki would report Akari's movements to me like a frantic battlefield scout. "She's laminated the posters for the Poetry Cafe! Laminated! The sheer professionalism is terrifying, Renji!" Meanwhile, I'd catch glimpses of Yuna trying to coax a smile out of Akari, who always seemed to be staring in my direction with an expression of profound, intellectual disgust.
This real-world animosity continued to be a goldmine for our fictional world. The rivalry between Leo and Seraphina in Stardust Sonata was electric. Their arguments were sharp, their competition fierce. Our readers were eating it up.
But then, we hit a wall. A big one.
[Kite]: I've re-read the last chapter. The argument is good, but it's just... an argument. It's going in circles.
[Aria]: I agree. They're at a stalemate. Seraphina won't bend on her artistic principles, and Leo won't compromise on his pragmatic strategy. We need something to break the deadlock. A new element.
[Kite]: An external push. Or maybe... something from the past. A shared memory or an old legend that could reframe their conflict.
[Aria]: A local folktale, perhaps? Something symbolic they could both interpret differently. It feels thematically appropriate.
She was a genius. As always.
[Kite]: That's it. I have an idea, but I need to check something. There's a book I read a while ago...
[Aria]: I think I know the kind of thing you mean. I'll do some research on my end as well. Let's find the perfect legend to save our story.
And so, independently, we arrived at the same conclusion. Our quest required a trip to a place I generally avoided due to its high concentration of effort: the Agra Central Library.
The library was an imposing building of glass and steel, a cathedral dedicated to the written word. I shuffled in on a Thursday afternoon, my hands in my pockets, grumbling internally. The air smelled of old paper and floor polish, a scent I associated with forced study sessions.
I headed for the folklore section, a dusty, forgotten corner on the third floor. The shelves were tall and claustrophobic, creating narrow canyons of knowledge. It was perfect. I found the aisle I was looking for—"Regional Folktales & Legends"—and began scanning the spines.
A few minutes later, the quiet hum of the library was punctuated by the soft, determined footsteps of another patron. I paid them no mind, my eyes locked on my prize. There it was. A thick, faded blue book with gold lettering. Tales of the Western Province.
I reached out, my fingers brushing against the rough canvas cover. Just as my hand closed around the spine, I felt a faint pressure from the other side of the shelf, as if someone else were reaching for the exact same book. For a split second, our hands were separated by nothing but a centimeter of cardboard and cloth.
Then I pulled. The book slid free into my grasp. I heard a soft, questioning sound from the other aisle, like a faint, frustrated sigh. I shrugged it off. Probably just the shelf settling.
Meanwhile, on the other side of that very shelf, Akari Hoshino stared at the empty space where the book she'd been searching for should have been. She was certain she had seen it. Had she imagined it? She frowned, an unfamiliar feeling of being one step behind nagging at her.
I found a secluded carrel at the end of the stacks, hidden from view, and immediately found the passage I was looking for. It was perfect. I pulled out my phone, eager to share my discovery with Aria.
Akari, giving up her search for the moment, decided to do the same. She found an empty chair at a table just around the corner from my carrel, obscured by a large shelf of encyclopedias. She pulled out her phone, her brow furrowed in concentration.
She began to type.
[Aria]: Kite, I couldn't find the folktale collection. I'm at the central library now. It's so frustrating.
She let out a small, sharp sigh, the sound barely audible in the silence of the library.
But I heard it. My head snapped up. It sounded close. I peered over my laptop screen but saw nothing but the imposing back of a bookshelf. I dismissed it and typed my reply.
[Kite]: That's a shame. I found it! There's a great story in here about a 'promise knot' that could be a perfect symbol for Leo and Seraphina. It's in the 'Tales of the Western Province' collection.
Akari's phone vibrated. She read Kite's message, and her eyes widened. Tales of the Western Province. The exact book. The exact reason she was here. Her heart began to pound against her ribs. This was too much to be a coincidence. He was here. In this library. Right now.
She stood up, her mind racing. She whispered the title aloud, a ghost of a sound.
"Tales of the Western Province... But how..."
My blood ran cold.
I had heard that. Muffled, faint, but unmistakable. The name of the book in my hands. My paranoia flared, hot and sharp. Slowly, cautiously, I pushed my chair back and peered around the edge of the towering bookshelf.
My eyes caught a flash of movement. A girl with long, dark hair in a Seiryo High uniform was turning, walking away towards the library's main entrance. She was holding a phone to her ear.
"Hello? Yuna? Yes, I'm at the library..." Her voice faded as she walked away.
I couldn't see her face. Just her back. For a wild, insane moment, my mind screamed Hoshino! But I forced it down. It was impossible. Utterly, statistically impossible. There were hundreds of girls at Seiryo. Lots of them had dark hair. I was stressed from the festival, my brain was connecting dots that weren't there.
I was being paranoid.
Akari, distracted by Yuna's call about a problem with the koto player, filed the strange event away. Kite just had good taste, that was all. It was natural that they'd seek out the same reference materials. Still, her heart didn't quite return to its normal rhythm until she was out of the building.
That night, we logged off, both of us feeling a strange, residual hum of anxiety we couldn't place. We had brushed past the truth in the silent stacks of the library, close enough to feel its vibration, but had turned away just before seeing its face.
The seed of suspicion, once dormant, had begun to sprout.