Using social media feeds as our guide, we’ve been getting on and off various trains, hot on the trail of the white kitten, a.k.a. Daijin. But every time we reach the spot where a picture was taken, a new one is posted from somewhere else. This could go on forever. But it’s our only option at this point, and we’re currently headed to the site of a photo from two hours ago. It showed Daijin flirting with the camera in a mandarin orange orchard, with a caption reading “The white kitty is visiting our farm! #withDaijin.” That farm should be at the top of this mountain road. There hasn’t been a convenience store or shop the whole way, meaning I haven’t been able to buy sunscreen.

  “…!”

  I hear a motor scooter revving behind us.

  “Souta!” I shout, running up to where he’s walking a few meters ahead of me and lifting him by the backrest. The bike whizzes past with a hairbreadth to spare.

  “…You didn’t see that coming, did you?” I ask.

  “Oh, don’t worry about me,” he laughs. But privately, I think he lacks a proper sense of caution. What would I do if he were kidnapped by a weirdo, like the toys in Toy Story? Then I’d have to recapture a chair in addition to finding a cat. On the other hand, carrying around this chair is surprisingly hard on the arms, so when we’re away from people, I’ve been letting him walk on his own a lot.

  Suddenly, I hear something drop onto the road, followed by the screech of brakes. I can just barely make out a female voice saying, “Crap!” I look up the hill.

  “…Huh?”

  Mandarin oranges are flooding down the narrow road. I remember the bike that just passed us had a big box strapped to the rack.

  “Aaah!”

  The herd of oranges has spread across the whole road and is bearing down on us. As I stand there frozen, Souta jumps out of my arms. I watch in surprise as he goes into the field next to the road and hooks a net onto his leg before returning to my side. It’s the kind of net used to keep animals out of a garden.

  “Suzume, hold that end!”

  “Okay!”

  Souta passes in front of me, pulling the net so that we end up on either side of the road, the net strung between us. At almost the same moment, the oranges roll into the net.

  “…This can’t be real!” someone says above my head. I look up. A teenage girl in a helmet is staring down at us in a daze. A bit too late, Souta pretends to be an inanimate object toppled on the ground. He and I succeeded in catching every last mandarin orange in the net.

  “Really, truly, thank you! You saved me.”

  The girl, who has a short brown bob and is wearing a red school tracksuit, is pumping both my hands energetically. A little bewildered by her enthusiasm, I smile stiffly and say it was nothing.

  “You’re like a magician! How in the world did you do that?”

  “Um…,” I say, relieved that she seems not to have witnessed the chair moving by itself. “My body just kind of reacted on its own…? I think?”

  “Really? That’s totally amazing!”

  She seems honestly moved. Her round, made-up eyes are sparkling.

  “I’m Chika. Second-year in high school,” she says, pointing to her chest.

  “Oh, me too! I’m Suzume.”

  “Suzume, that’s a cute name!”

  She sure is friendly. Knowing we’re the same age makes me instantly relax, too.

  “Hey, Suzume, I don’t recognize your uniform—,” she says. She says my name straight, without an honorific, but it doesn’t feel like she’s being rude. She scans me curiously from head to toe. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

  “Um, no—”

  I think I’ll do the same and just call her Chika, I decide, feeling suddenly cheerful. I explain my situation, though I end up leaving out a lot.

  “You came all the way from Kyushu…to find a cat?!” she says, obviously surprised, as I show her the picture of the mandarin orange farm on my phone. We’re sitting side by side on a strip of dirt next to the road. I notice the drone of locusts has turned into a chorus of evening cicadas. The surface of the reservoir below the road is fading from bright blue to greenish gray.

  “So the cat’s your pet?” Chika asks, handing my phone back.

  “Well, not exactly…,” I say, popping a segment of a mandarin orange into my mouth. The orange was a thank-you present from Chika. It’s startlingly sweet. It moistens my dry throat as the sweetness penetrates my tired body. I put about six segments in my mouth at once. They’re a thousand times better than orange juice from the convenience store.

  “This is so good I think it might make my sunburn go away!” I say.

  Chika smiles happily. “Sorry about earlier. There’s an uneven spot in the road.”

  “An uneven spot?”

  “Yeah. My tire hit it head-on, and the rubber band on the box came off. It wasn’t that rough yesterday—but anyway, it’s my fault for not securing the box better.”

  “That sounds hard… Is it your part time job?”

  “No, my parents are in hospitality. These oranges are too old to serve to our guests, so I’m taking them to the processing plant. Eat as many as you like. Get rid of that sunburn for good!”

  We laugh together. The sweetness of the fruit and the friendliness of Chika’s voice loosen the tension in my body.

  “So you’re on your way to that farm?” she asks.

  “Oh, uh, yeah. That’s right!”

  Flustered, I pull up the picture on my phone again. This is no good! I’ve gotten distracted by after-school chitchat. Once I’ve examined the picture, I look up to make sure I’m in the right place.

  “Chika, I think this photo was taken near—”

  I’m about to say here, but instead, a dry gasp escapes my throat.

  “…What’s wrong, Suzume?”

  I can’t answer. I know she’s peering at me suspiciously, but I can’t peel my eyes off a certain point in the landscape. My eyes are glued to that. Why? Why here? The evening cicadas have gone silent. On the wooded mountainside beyond the reservoir, a flock of crows is circling. Dividing the flock in half is a reddish-black column of smoke rising slowly upward. It seems to be faintly glowing. An enormous worm, visible only to Souta and me.

  “Uh, um—”

  My voice is shaking. I pick up Souta from his spot at my feet and say to Chika, “Sorry, something came up! Sorry!”

  “What? Something came up? Huh?”

  I take off running, hugging the chair to my chest. I race down the mountain road toward the worm without even pausing to glance back at Chika.

  “Souta, can the worm erupt anywhere?!”

  “This land’s Gate must have opened! If I don’t close it fast—”

  Another earthquake will happen? I feel a chill rise from the soles of my feet. I run faster, trying to crush the awful feeling underfoot. The long, fat worm is still rising toward the sky.

  Souta sounds panicked. “We’ll never get there in time!”

  “But—”

  “Hey, Suzume!”

  Someone is calling my name from behind. I look back. It’s Chika, on her motor scooter. She screeches to a stop in front of me.

  “Chika!”

  “I don’t know what’s up, but you’re in a hurry, right?” she asks, staring solemnly into my eyes. “Get on!”

  Between the trees streaming past us, I glimpse the worm glowing dully with a reddish-copper color. The sun has set without my noticing. I cling to Chika, balanced on the luggage rack of the motor scooter as it speeds down the empty mountain road. Amid the deepening lavender of twilight, the worm is like a sinister red version of the luminescent noctiluca that light up the ocean.

  “Are you sure this is the right way?!” Chika shouts over the whir of the engine and whoosh of the wind, without turning her head. “This area up here was buried in a landslide a while back, and no one lives there anymore!”

  “It’s an abandoned village?! Then that’s it—take me there!” I shout back before whispering to Souta, “Is there going to be an earthquake?”

  “As the worm spreads over the sky, it sucks up energy from the earth and gains weight. When it falls to the ground, it causes an earthquake. If we close the door before the worm falls, we can prevent it. This time we’ll get it right!”

  The scooter’s headlight reflects blindingly off a large sign that seems to pop up out of nowhere. Chika slams on the breaks. The sign says in large letters, ROAD CLOSED DUE TO LANDSLIDE, and several colored traffic cones are lined up below it. Rubble and dirt block the road past the sign. It doesn’t look like we can go any farther on the scooter. A festering, sweet smell hangs thick in the air.

  “Right here is fine!” I say, hopping off the bike with the chair in my arm and starting to run. “Thank you so much, Chika!”

  “Hey, wait! Suzume!” she shouts at my receding back. My heartbeat hurries me on. Far down the blocked road, beyond a pitch-black hamlet, the glowing blackish-red worm looms. The ground is muddy. I kick heavy sludge off my loafers as I run.

  “Suzume, you don’t have to come any farther!” Souta suddenly says, pushing off my body into the air. Like a dog freed from its leash, he bolts ahead at full speed.

  “Souta, wait!”

  “It’s too dangerous! Go back to the girl with the scooter!”

  “Souta!”

  Looking like some three-legged beast, he disappears into the dim rubble. Don’t do this, Souta! I call his name again, but he doesn’t answer.

  “—!”

  I stop, suddenly out of breath. My lungs need air, and they suck it in of their own accord. The fetid sweet smell comes in with it, and I cough violently. I desperately try to catch my breath and forget about the smell; then I try to pretend it doesn’t exist and tell my nose not to sense it. I take my time expelling all the polluted air from my chest. Finally, my breath calms, and I look around, making sure to breathe shallowly. Roofs and telephone poles still buried in dirt are scattered around chaotically like black lumps. Past them, a rushing red river falls upward toward the sky, growing ever brighter. The earth below my feet is rumbling uncannily, on and on, as if something is moving all at once toward the red river.

  I’m alone in this place. For some reason, I’m standing here alone. Again. Unbearable anxiety and fear well up in me, like someone has made a mistake and I can’t wake up from a nightmare—and I need to wake up. I feel like an abandoned child. I’m hemmed in by tilted roofs buried in mud and bizarrely upright walls and black windows that don’t reflect anything. Suddenly, the tears gathered in my eyes overflow, and the red of the worm bleeds over everything. Souta told me to go home. He told me to go back to the girl with the scooter.

  “…You’re telling me to go back to Chika?” I say out loud. “You’re telling me to go home, to go back to Kyushu?”

  The nauseating sweet smell is still surrounding me. It is already, inescapably, inside me. It is here, a distinct foreign presence, impossible to ignore. Suddenly, a feeling like anger boils up inside my ribs. Why is this happening again? After coming all this way. Despite everything we’ve done. Why?

  “What’s the point in that?!” I scream, wringing the words out of my body. I start running after Souta into the darkness, hurtling forward with all my strength. My loafers crush mud and glass and something made of plastic. With each stride, the fear and anxiety dissipate. Yes, this is the way. If I run toward Souta, the anxiety will disappear. If I run the opposite direction, it will build and build. That’s why I need to go this way.

  When I get to the top of the dark road, I have a clear view of the area ahead. Beyond layers of abandoned houses, a school stands by itself. The worm is erupting from the school building. I descend toward it, weaving between empty houses. I see the school gate ahead of me. There’s a hill to the right of the building, and dirt from it has buried the right half of the schoolyard. I run through the gate into the yard. Sandbags are piled next to the dirt, extending a hundred meters or so to the school building.

  “…The school has turned into a Gate?!”

  The worm is pouring out in a violent, muddy river from the wide student entrance. Under its glow, to the left, I can see something. A small kiddie chair, pushing with all its might against one of the large aluminum double doors.

  “Souta?!”

  “Suzume?!”

  The foul red river is flowing right over my head. The sludge under my feet is a slimy reflection of its glow.

  “The key…!” Souta shouts, still pushing the door. The glow of the worm glints off something halfway between me and the entrance. It’s the old key that should have been hanging around his neck, now half buried in the mud. I run over and scoop it up in my right hand. I keep running to where Souta is. My feet slip, and I fall sideways into the mud, but I stand up right away and arch my body over him, pushing the edge of the aluminum door with my free hand.

  “Suzume!” He looks up angrily as he, too, pushes the edge of the door with the chair’s seat. “Aren’t you afraid of dying?!”

  “No!”

  He gasps. But I’m really not. I haven’t been afraid of death for a long time. Beneath my left hand, the door rattles uncannily, like someone on the other side who doesn’t understand words is pushing back for no good reason. My right hand is on the ground, gripping the key tight, mud and all.

  “The key—,” Souta says, pushing with all his might. “The current pushed me back, and it flew off. I couldn’t reach it. I’m so grateful you came—”

  He plants his three legs firmly and pushes. I pour my energy into my left arm, and little by little, we push the door closed. The eruption narrows. Just a little more. I look up at the worm and keep pushing.

  “Oh no!”

  The worm has become a reddish-bronze flower blossoming across the sky. I glance at the schoolyard. Countless golden threads are stretching up and up toward it. It’s sucking energy from the ground. The flower grows heavy and begins to drift slowly toward the earth.

  “Suzume, you lock it!” Souta screams from below my chest.

  “Me?!”

  “We’re out of time! Close your eyes and think of the people who lived here!”

  “What?!”

  “That will make the lock appear!”

  “Easy for you to say—”

  I look at him. Still staring at the door, he says earnestly, “I’m begging you! I can’t do anything—I couldn’t do anything in this body…! Please close your eyes!”

  The desperation in his words is like a punch to the gut. I shut my eyes. Now what? Think about the people who lived here? How?

  “Imagine what this place used to look like. The people who must have lived here. Their feelings. If you imagine it, you’ll hear their voices!”

  What this place used to look like. I try to imagine it. The school surrounded by mountains. The big schoolyard bright with sun. Two faucets for drinking water on either side of the entrance, like at my school. In this place now buried under dirt, students in tracksuits must have drunk water from those faucets. Chika. Her openhearted smile. The water from the faucets is sweet and cold. “Get rid of that sunburn for good!” she says, laughing with a friend. “Good morning.” This place must have been full of energy at the start of the day. “Good morning, good morning, good morning.” I can hear the voices. Students dragging their feet on test days, spreading rumors about teachers, planning to ask out their crush. I can see the colors. A different color tracksuit for each of the three grades. White sailor uniforms that reflect the morning sun. Navy-blue skirts hiked up above the knees. Bright-white shirts with the first and second buttons undone, secretly dyed hair.

  “O Divine Gods who dwell beneath this land.”

  Souta is intoning that same mysterious, melodic string of words.

  “You have long protected us for generations. Your mountains and rivers that we have long called our own—”

  “…!”

  The key in my right hand is growing warm. It takes on a blue glow. A bundle of blue light rises from the key and gathers on the aluminum door. A glowing keyhole opens immediately next to my left hand, which is still pushing the edge of the door.

  “Now!” Souta screams, and I thrust the key into the light.

  “We respectfully return them to you!”

  As he cries out the words, I instinctively turn the key and feel something click into place. The window in the door shatters and falls onto our backs. There’s a sound like a bubble swelling and bursting, and above our heads, the worm recoils and breaks apart. The air feels suddenly light, like a leaden rain cloud has been blown away.

  A few seconds later, rain sheets down, refracting the light in complex patterns and washing the ruins around us in a quick shower.

  “Haah, haah, haah…”

  I sit in the mud, catching my breath and looking up at the sky. A scattering of stars has come out. Night insects are singing. The lush smell of summer foliage fills the air. The school entrance is quiet once again. Abandoned and silently decaying. Next to me, Souta lets out two puffs of breath.

  “Huh?”

  “Ha-ha…ha-ha-ha-ha!”

  He’s laughing, a full-bellied, raucous laugh. With a clatter, he turns toward me.

  “You did it, Suzume. You stopped the earthquake!”

  “I did…?”

  I stopped an earthquake? Me?

  “Really…?”

  A hot wave of emotion washes up from my stomach, rising into a smile on my face.

  “…I can’t believe it! We did it, we did it!”

  Souta is smiling, too. He’s completely covered in mud. So are my clothes, and probably my face. It’s like proof of what we’ve just done, and I’m proud, excited, and happy to be as dirty as I am.

  “Aren’t we amazing?” I ask, bringing my face right up to Souta’s. I can see his expression in the two carved eyes on his backrest. I can sense the kindness in it.