Read or Die:Volume1 Chapter 2

“…It’s not widely known, but Napoleon was one of history’s most famous book-lovers. When he went on military campaigns, he brought along a mobile library of three thousand books.”

Yomiko Readman’s eyes sparkled as she shared her “little-known fact” with enthusiasm. But not a single student in Class 2-C looked the least bit impressed.

On her second day on the job, Yomiko walked to school with Nenene from the apartment. Maybe because both were still tired from the night before, they only just made it in time.

Yomiko, especially, flagrantly ignored the rule that teachers must arrive thirty minutes before class, earning her a second reprimand from the principal in as many days.

But Yomiko wasn’t the sort to dwell on regret or pride. Any fleeting emotion was swept away in the tide of her own, unshakable rhythm.

And so, first period on her second day, Yomiko launched into her first ever class at Kakinzaka High School.

It was supposed to be a lesson about Napoleon Bonaparte’s diplomacy in French history,but Yomiko’s train of thought soon derailed.

“French people are famous across Europe for being book-lovers,what you’d call ‘bibliophiles’. There’s even a saying: ‘Women, books, and horses should never be borrowed,’ which just means that the French don’t just read books, they want to keep them close,like collectors. In contrast, the British are seen as more practical,if they want to read, the library is enough. That’s the common view in Europe, anyway. But honestly, that’s just a stereotype. England has plenty of book-lovers too.”

She pouted, not sure who she was even complaining to. No one agreed. In fact, hardly anyone was even listening.

The students, indifferent, busied themselves with “side work” for the next class, doodled in their notebooks, or whispered quietly with friends.

Yomiko, having veered so far off-topic, couldn’t really scold them.

And so, Class 2-C’s lesson drifted further off track.

Still, compared to what was about to happen later, it was almost peaceful.

Meanwhile, Nenene Sumiregawa wasn’t paying the slightest attention to geography class. Instead, she stared at the bookmark Yomiko had given her the night before.

There was nothing remarkable about it,a small Union Jack and some kind of emblem on the front and back. It looked old, but was neither torn nor creased. Maybe it was made from high-quality paper?

Whatever it was, it was still just a bookmark. Without much thought, Nenene slipped it into her shirt pocket.

A large map hung on the blackboard. The lesson was about China’s topography, but Nenene’s eyes drifted to England, remembering the Union Jack.

That teacher,she’d said she was half-British, but had she really lived over there?

Nenene’s curiosity about Yomiko started to take root.

Could someone that laid-back ever have found herself in real trouble? Maybe that calm meant she came from a good family… No, probably not. Maybe her parents were civil servants who met and married while studying abroad,that was the plot of some movie, wasn’t it? She wished there were something a bit more unexpected.

Unconsciously, Nenene started weaving little stories in her head about Yomiko’s past, probing for a thread she could build a “plot” around. Story seeds, after all, are everywhere.

She supposed it was surprising,a scatterbrained type like that probably had a romantic story somewhere in her past… It’d be sad if her partner had already died. Or maybe they were separated by illness,that’d make it even more of a tragic love story.

Just as Nenene was struggling to shape these thoughts into something concrete, a small, folded piece of paper bounced off her hair.

She glanced diagonally back and caught sight of Nori and Harumi, her friends who’d called out to her at the school gate the day before,giggling.

Nenene bent down, discreetly picked up the note, and unfolded it.

It was a memo. In round, girlish handwriting, it read:

“Yesterday’s boy was the worst. We’re hanging out later today, do you have a deadline?”

“………………”

Nenene considered for a moment. She’d planned to visit her publisher and talk to her editor about that letter. She couldn’t have Yomiko stay at her place forever, and she wasn’t exactly the most reliable person in an emergency.

…But, with everyone together, the chances of trouble seemed slim. The more people around, the safer it would be. Nenene shot a thumbs-up behind her back,a sign of agreement. From behind came a soft round of applause. That’s right. Sometimes you have to let yourself relax. Soon enough, another deadline would be looming.

Whatever story had started forming in Nenene’s head was gone before she knew it. Footsteps echoed along the hallway. Of course, it wasn’t just the sound moving forward, the sound belonged to a pair of black leather shoes.

A man in a black leather coat, known in the underworld as “Scissorhands”, was making his way down the corridor of Kakinzaka High.

Since it was during class hours, there were no students in the hallway. No teachers, either. If there had been, they would have stopped this man, his face a lattice of scars, his body bristling with knives.

“Who are you?”

“What do you want?”

But Scissorhands had no intention of answering, even if someone had just asked, “Where’d you get that cool coat?” Idle talk only delayed the job.

He had just one task: to kidnap the brat with the unmistakable name, Sumiregawa Nenene. (Though he’d have to remember to call her Paul S., or the client would throw a fit.)

It was an easy job. Far too easy.

But easy didn’t mean boring. For Scissorhands, this was his first time setting foot in a place called “school” and he found it fascinating. He watched his surroundings with keen curiosity.

Born with the traits he had, Scissorhands had always walked in the underworld. It wasn’t until he was past twenty that he could walk so boldly, letting his footsteps ring out. Only after he grew strong enough that even noisy footsteps wouldn’t get him killed.

And with that strength came jobs like this. The client, a spoiled rich brat, a certified lunatic, a pervert and a megalomaniac, paid more than most. Maybe the money wasn’t different, but it was a lot more than usual.

Plus, he could rattle a few “regular” kids as a bonus.

Scissorhands’ scarred face twisted into a sinister grin.

Soon, he arrived at his destination: Class 3-A.

He raised his right hand and slid it swiftly across the alloy door.

A high-pitched, skin-crawling screech raced through the classroom.

Every student clapped their hands over their ears at the sudden, unnatural noise. Nenene was no exception.

“Huh…?”

“What was that? Thunder?”

But outside, spring sunlight streamed down, a clear sky, not a hint of a storm. Still, unable to process what was happening, the students tried to fit it into what they knew.

“Calm down! Everyone!”

The teacher’s voice tried to steady the class, but words with no certainty behind them couldn’t even calm himself.

Then came another short, sharp sound from the door. Every eye turned to its surface.

And then, as if straight out of a cartoon, a classic gag manga, or an old American animation, the next moment unfolded before their eyes.

A human silhouette bulged from the surface of the door. It was a perfect outline, pressed from the outside and now falling inward.

Students near the door leapt to their feet. With a tremendous crash, the thing that had been the door, a metal sheet now punched through in the shape of a person, toppled onto the floor, rattling the entire classroom.

Sound and dust swirled, then faded away.

Most students still hadn’t processed what had just happened.

“A prank…?” someone whispered, but no one laughed. No one answered.

Through the person-shaped hole, a shadow slipped inside. A face covered in scars swept the classroom, then broke into a toothy grin.

“…Sorry I’m late. Did I miss anything?”

“…Who are you…?”

The teacher, to his credit, managed to find his voice. First to confront this mysterious intruder, that took guts.

“…Which one’s Sumiregawa?”

At the sound of Scissorhands’ voice, every student turned to Nenene. Their stares gave her away before anyone said a word.

“I’m here to pick you up, Paul S…”

As soon as she heard it, Nenene felt the blood drain from her face.

Scissorhands began moving toward her, slow and deliberate.

“Wait just a second!”

The teacher grabbed Scissorhands by the arm.

The next instant, something rolled onto the desk of the student in the front row, a chopped sausage, splattering ketchup across the open notebook.

That’s what the student’s brain registered, at least for a moment, until the truth snapped into focus. What looked like a sausage was actually a severed finger, and the “ketchup” was blood.

It was the teacher’s finger, newly sliced off, that rolled across the desk.

On the teacher’s face, shock far outweighed pain. But before he could react, a girl by the window let out a scream.

“Noooo!”

Her shriek soared through the open window, echoing into the classrooms beyond.

“!”

The first to react was Yomiko.

“What was that just now?”

“A girl?”

“A third-year?”

Most students just looked around with curiosity or confusion, but a strange tension had appeared on Yomiko’s face. She’d already guessed the direction, the commotion was coming from Class 3-A. Nenene’s class. The scream wasn’t Nenene’s, but that didn’t make her any less anxious.

“Sensei?”

A student looked up, puzzled at the sudden halt in Yomiko’s (rather enthusiastic) monologue about French bibliophiles.

“Self-study, everyone!”

With just those words, Yomiko dashed out of the classroom, which was already halfway to self-study anyway.

Three male teachers appeared in the hallway, clearly drawn by the scream,just as concerned as Yomiko.

However, the teachers merely gathered slowly, trading anxious looks and murmuring, “What’s going on?”, no one willing to take action.

Yomiko sprinted toward the main staircase.

“Ms. Readman!?”

One of the male teachers called out as Yomiko charged past. He was someone she vaguely remembered being introduced to at yesterday’s staff meeting, but he disappeared from her memory and vision in an instant.

Her coat flared as she dashed in long, bounding strides, loud footsteps echoing down the hall.

“Sensei!?”

Without so much as a glance back at her colleague’s shout, Yomiko took the stairs three at a time. In just eight strides, she’d reached the third floor.

A quick scan of the corridor showed Class 3-A’s students spilling out the door in a confused scramble.

“What happened!?”

No one could answer. Every face was wide-eyed, mouths opening and closing in shock, voices tangled with fear and astonishment. Realizing no answers would come, Yomiko rushed straight for the classroom.

She pushed open the door, that now oddly had a human-shaped hole, and leapt inside.

“Who’s there!?”

A man in a black leather coat stood at the center of the room. In his arms hung Nenene, limp and unconscious, the edges of her uniform slashed, pale skin showing through.

Yomiko took it all in at a glance. Desks split in half. Textbooks, notebooks, pencils, cell phones, almost every student’s belongings, either deeply gouged or cleanly sliced in two.

From the man’s coat protruded several blades. There was no doubt. This destruction had happened just by him passing through.

“I said, who are you!?”

The man’s finger twitched, and Yomiko’s eyes caught the flicker of a small piece of metal flying toward her. She dove forward, and at the same time, flicked a slip of paper from her sleeve toward him.

He clearly hadn’t expected a counterattack. The man dodged, but just a fraction too late. The paper grazed his right cheek, leaving a new cut and a trail of blood.

The shard of metal he’d thrown embedded itself in the blackboard behind Yomiko. She recognized it instantly, an oversized box cutter blade, or something close to it. The edge was far sharper than anything ordinary; nearly half the blade was sunk into the board.

At the same time, Scissorhands realized what had wounded him: a long strip of paper, like a memo pad, that had lodged itself in the back blackboard like a thrown shuriken.

Front and back of the room. Metal and paper. Their weapons had crossed, each driven deep at opposite ends.

“Paper-user.”

Shock lit up Scissorhands’ scarred face, but the surprise was real for Yomiko as well. tThis man knew about paper-users.

Trying to hide her confusion, she glanced at Nenene. Still unconscious, thankfully, and hadn’t heard the exchange.

“The British Library, huh?!”

Yomiko nodded sharply, edging a little farther back for safety.

“…Give back Ms. Sumiregawa…”

Even as she spoke, she was already palming more memo paper and sticky notes, hidden inside her coat, ready to strike at the first opening.

But Scissorhands kept Nenene’s body between them, using her as a shield.

“…Well, well. Didn’t think this brat was worth so much. Worth getting the British Library involved?”

There was something strange in his words, but Yomiko kept moving, searching for a blind spot.

“…If you’re really a fan, you should know better than to bring trouble to Ms. Sumiregawa! Let her go!”

The scars on Scissorhands’ face twisted into a grotesque smile, part physical, part psychological.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I’ve got no special feelings for the kid. It’s my client who wants her!”

“That letter…!”

If life were a book, Yomiko and Scissorhands’ names wouldn’t be on the cover, they’d be on the back. Marked by strange talents, their places in the world were set apart, and in this moment, both measured each other, probing for any hint of weakness.

With the truth of each other’s powers out in the open, neither dared act carelessly. Yomiko was paralyzed by Nenene’s hostage state; but by using her as a shield, Scissorhands was likewise restrained.

Now, it all depended on who could force an opening.

But the longer this stalemate stretched, the more it favored Yomiko. Sooner or later, help would arrive. For Scissorhands, this was enemy territory, if he was surrounded, it would be over.

Maybe sensing this, Scissorhands moved to break the deadlock.

“A paper-user from the British Library… you must be ‘The Paper’, then?”

Yomiko tensed slightly at the mention of her codename.

“…The Paper I fought last time was a man. What happened to him?”

His words hit harder than expected.

Yomiko froze,just for a heartbeat, but that was all he needed.

“Hah!”

Still clutching Nenene, Scissorhands rose on tiptoe, spinning with his left foot as a pivot, his right foot tracing a circle on the floor like a compass needle.

“Ah!”

Yomiko was caught off guard by the sudden motion,but what happened next was even more shocking.

Scissorhands and Nenene vanished, no, they dropped away.

He’d used a hidden blade in his shoe to cut a perfect circle in the floor, then dropped straight down.

Shouts of surprise erupted from the floor below. Yomiko didn’t hesitate for an instant. She immediately understood the escape and darted for the window.

She saw Scissorhands crash out a first-floor window and bolt into the schoolyard, carrying Nenene.

A car waited just ahead. That was their getaway.

“Sensei!”

Yomiko glanced around. Under the blackboard was a huge world map, left over from class.

Without hesitating, she snatched it up, dragged it to the window, and threw the window open.

“Haaaah!”

She jumped,out the third-story window, into open air.

If she took the stairs, she’d lose them. She had to take the fastest, most direct route.

Gravity seized her, yanking her down.

As she fell, Yomiko tore the map apart in her hands.

Fold. Fold. Fold. Still spinning in the air, she folded the paper at miraculous speed, her limbs and the map tangling together, the paper transforming with every twist.

“It’s done!”

Just before she crashed, it was finished,a giant paper balloon.

Flushed, she blew air into it, flung it below, and landed right on top. The impact softened, the shock dispersed.

“…Haah, haah…”

Even having landed safely, Yomiko was gasping for breath. Her heart hammered; her lungs burned for oxygen. The escape had cut it razor-close.

“! …Ms. Sumiregawa!”

By the time she climbed off the balloon, the car was already speeding away.

“Sensei!”

Yomiko chased after it, running with long, desperate strides.

In the rear window, she caught a glimpse of Nenene, slumped unconscious in the back seat.

The car shot through the school gates, sped around the corner, and disappeared from view.

“Sumiregawa-senseiiii!”

The car was already well out of range, even for her paper techniques. Sweat poured down Yomiko’s face as she collapsed, knees hitting the ground.

She might be a top-class agent with paper, but physically, she was just a regular person. After diving from the third floor, her breathing was ragged. There was no way she could outrun a car at full speed.

“………………”

　The car vanished down the road, swallowed by the distance.

Yomiko looked back over her shoulder. Her eyes landed on the spot where, just yesterday, she had stopped Nenene as she was leaving for home. What had she said then?

“…To tell the truth, I wanted to protect you, Sensei.”

“I may not look it, but I’m actually pretty strong.”

Not even a full day had passed, and those words were already a lie.

She hadn’t been able to save Nenene.

“…Sensei… Sumi…rega…wa… Sensei…”

Still gasping for air, Yomiko called out Nenene’s name again and again.

Before she knew it, hot drops were streaming down her cheeks.

They were far too hot, far too bitter, and far too sad to be just sweat.

Beneath her glasses, tears fell in silent, endless streams.

I couldn’t protect her. I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t save her. Mercilessly, Yomiko blamed herself. What good was being a paper user? What was “The Paper” worth? What right did she have to call herself a fan of Sumiregawa Nenene?

“Ugh… ugh…”

She raised a hand to wipe her tears away, but her fingers stopped short, bumping against the thick, black frames of her glasses.

“Ugh…”

It almost felt as if the frames themselves were holding her back.

Is this really the time for tears?

It felt as if that’s what he,the man who once wore these glasses,would say to her now.

She’d cried then, too. Like a child, lost in sorrow.

The man who wore these glasses had smiled at her through his own pain, bloodied and suffering so much more than she.

He had tried to comfort her, hiding agony behind a smile, even as blood welled from his throat instead of words.

Back then, too, there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t comfort him, couldn’t help him, couldn’t save him from pain.

All she had done was cry.

Yomiko’s sobs grew hoarse, then faded, until at last they were silent.

It wasn’t forgivable. Someone who bore the name “The Paper” had no right to cry any longer.

Right before her eyes, a writer had been taken,a bright, talented writer with her whole future ahead. How many times had Nenene’s books made Yomiko happy, moved her, encouraged her?

For someone who loves books, giving up was unthinkable.

Yomiko stood up. Of course, the car was nowhere in sight now.

But there was still a way. As long as she didn’t give up, there was always at least a fifty-fifty chance of success.

She pressed her finger to the bridge of her slipping glasses, steadying them.

“…Ms. Sumiregawa, I swear,I’ll save you.”

It was Yomiko Readman’s personal declaration of war.

Nenene Sumiregawa awoke on a cold, hard floor.

At first, she couldn’t process what had happened.

That man with the scarred face had appeared in the classroom, had sliced off the teacher’s finger…

The memory, full of disgust, made her stomach churn.

From there, it had all been a nightmare. An all-too-vivid, all-too-real nightmare.

As the man walked, desks split apart. She’d thought, for a moment, it must be a supernatural wind blade,but there hadn’t been even a hint of wind.

Several students’ uniforms were sliced open. Some had skin cut, blood staining the cloth. By then, most of the students had panicked and were rushing for the door.

But Nenene herself couldn’t move.

Staring down the man, she hadn’t even been able to stand from her seat.

What truly paralyzed her was his words: “I’ve come to pick you up, Paul S.” The memories of the past few days came rushing back.

With a theatrical, almost foreign gesture, the man spread his arms.

And pain shot through her body.

The shock tore at her uniform, and before she knew it, her skin was exposed to the air.

One of the blows struck the back of her head, and darkness closed in.

“…Owww…”

Somehow, Nenene managed to raise her upper body. Everything ached, but nothing seemed broken.

Her uniform was torn in several places,a clear sign this wasn’t just a dream, unfortunately.

“Awake at last?”

The voice made Nenene flinch.

Scissorhands stood over her, looking down.

“…What’s with you…?”

Nenene’s voice was stripped of its usual energy. It couldn’t be helped, given the circumstances.

“In this world, they call me Scissorhands.”

“Scissorhands…?”

Nenene echoed the name, but what stuck in her mind was the way he’d said “this world.” As if sensing her curiosity, he continued:

“Seems you were quite a celebrity in your old world, young lady. But,”

His scars twisted, turning his smile sadistic.

“,You can’t go back. From today, you belong to this world.”

His words sparked the last bit of resistance left in Nenene.

“What is that supposed to mean? What are you going to do with me? First the letters weren’t enough, and now you have to kidnap me too?!”

Scissorhands watched her with a mocking grin as she spoke.

“I won’t let you get away with this! This is a crime! I’ll sue you, just you wait!”

“Young lady, from now on you’ll be living in a world with no use for the laws of the outside. You’ll have to follow our rules, got it?”

His strangely gentle tone only made it creepier.

“And just to be clear,if you’ve misunderstood anything, it’s not me who wants you. It’s my client. If you’ve got someone to shout at, shout at him. As you can see, I’m easily hurt.”

“Client…?”

So this wasn’t just one stalker,it was a whole plan.

“Paaaaaauuul… Essssssss…”

A voice echoed from the opposite direction of Scissorhands.

“?!”

Shock froze Nenene’s face as she turned.

Squinting, she saw a wide bed, draped in expensive sheets. A man was lounging there.

“At last, we meet, Paaaauul…”

He looked to be just under thirty. Too thin, dressed in black leather pants and a white shirt. His black hair was slicked back with oil, a few strands hanging over his forehead.

Nenene had never seen him before.

“…Who are you…?”

It was the only question that made sense.

“I’m your number one fan, Paul.”

“Who’s Paul!? I’m Sumiregawa,”

Before she could finish, something flew at her.

“?!”

She instinctively shielded her face, and felt a hard object hit her arm and fall to the floor. When she looked down, she realized what it was:

Her own new book, On a Street Corner with Cats.

“How rude,” the man said with a casual smile, looking at her.

A red welt remained on her arm where the book’s corner had hit.

“Well, that’s fine. We’ll take our time fixing everything,your personality, your manners, your way of thinking, your writing style, every last part of you…”

There was a sickly intensity oozing from his words, and Nenene fell silent.

“My name is Kazumi Marihara. I’m a bibliomaniac.”

“A… bibliomaniac?”

“That’s right. But I’m not your average fanatic. I comb through every book published in Japan, searching for true talent. When I find it, I sometimes support the writer’s work, even sponsor their career. Luckily, I have the means to do so.”

“But why? What’s the point?”

Marihara slowly sat up on the bed.

“…To support publishing culture. Modern Japanese, living in one of the world’s rare publishing giants, are forgetting the magic of books, little by little.”

He fixed Nenene with a piercing stare, his strangely pale eyes radiating a quiet menace.

“Games, TV, events, music, the internet,people are drowning in every kind of pleasure, drifting further and further from books. Literature is now misunderstood as the most old-fashioned of all media. It’s the duty of those of us who love books to change that.”

Nenene could follow his logic, but what did any of it have to do with kidnapping her?

“So what do we need to break this reality? A work that’s both literary and dazzlingly entertaining,a masterpiece where art and entertainment truly fuse. The savior of the literary world, who can actually write it!”

His voice began to burn with an uneven, feverish energy.

“I’ve read a hundred million books, and among them, I found you! Nenene Sumiregawa, you can write it,a masterpiece that will go down in human history!”

Marihara pointed dramatically at Nenene, raising his voice. The next moment, his hand opened wide as if to welcome her.

“…But you’re still immature. I want to help you. I want to draw out the brilliance in you that even you haven’t realized yet. Do you understand, Paaaaaul…?”

“So that’s why you kidnapped me…?”

Nenene’s face drained of color. She had doubted how serious he was,now she wondered just how sane he could be.

“You’re… insane…”

That was all she could force out.

“…Alright. Let’s start with that.”

Marihara turned his gaze to Scissorhands.

And with just that, Scissorhands was already moving, snapping handcuffs onto Nenene’s wrists.

“Wh-what…!?”

The reality of being restrained doubled Nenene’s fear.

“Sometimes, only madness can create art that’s impossible in ordinary life. Honestly, that’s one of the things your writing is missing.”

He gave her a shove and Nenene tumbled to the floor.

“All your stories have happy endings. That’s lovely in its way, but once in a while, I want to read a dead end. And for that, you’ll need to experience one yourself first.”

As Marihara climbed down from the bed, Scissorhands called out.

“There’s something I want to ask.”

“What is it?”

Marihara, his excitement soured, glared at Scissorhands.

“When I took this young lady, a woman appeared,a paper-user.”

“A paper-user? A woman?” Marihara frowned at the unexpected revelation.

“I thought the British Library’s Paper-user was a man?”

“That’s what I thought too. But if they’re involved, we can’t let our guard down.”

“Hmm…”

Marihara lapsed into thought for a moment.

Nenene, lying on the floor, listened to them. A woman… the British Library… a paper-user… The words tangled in her mind, and she thought of a certain someone. Surely not…

Her hand crept to her shirt pocket. The bookmark Yomiko had given her last night, with the Union Jack on it.

Were they talking about Yomiko?

“With her level of talent, it’s no wonder the British Library took notice. When it comes to books, they’ll stop at nothing,” Marihara commented, apparently blind to his own hypocrisy.

“In any case, we need to be cautious. Scissorhands, get in touch with our informant and have them look into this woman.”

“Understood. And you?”

“…Of course, I’ll be busy educating her. I intend to make her the greatest writer in human history.”

Nenene swallowed hard. He really was crazy. This wasn’t just a stalker,he was something much worse. What could have drawn this madman to her?

In a creeping, hopeless despair, the only thing Nenene had left was the bookmark Yomiko had given her last night. The “good luck charm” Yomiko had called it,just a piece of paper, but right now, it was her only support.

“Hey, didn’t I see you yesterday?”

The taxi driver tried to make small talk, but Yomiko remained silent, eyes locked on the navigation screen.

“You know, yesterday in front of that school, I picked up a girl,and you came running after us. You really can run.”

He talked to himself, but Yomiko never looked up from the plate.

“Turn at the next corner.”

Every so often she’d give a direction, but in truth, Yomiko herself didn’t know exactly where they were headed.

The display showed a simple map and a blinking red dot,the signal from the bookmark she’d given Nenene the night before. That bookmark was actually an emergency transmitter, the kind all British Library agents were required to carry. The ribbon was woven from ultra-fine fibers.

Yomiko was grateful Nenene had kept it. Now, at least, she knew their location. And knowing that gave her a real chance of rescue.

Beside her, a suitcase rattled on the back seat,the only “weapon” she had brought. She had no idea how she’d fare against a man who threw knives like that, but she had no choice. Every second of delay only increased Nenene’s danger.

Suddenly, Yomiko remembered:

That man… he knew about Paper-users.

“…The last time I fought The Paper, it was a man. What happened to him?”

He’d known about the previous Paper,Donnie. That one sentence had shaken her, left her open.

But this time, she couldn’t afford to let her guard down. This time, it would be fatal.

She steeled her will.

Nervous, Yomiko realized the signal source was close.

Through the taxi’s windshield, a massive warehouse came into view.

The warehouse stood in the suburbs, in a patch of deep countryside. The area was all fields and empty lots,a peaceful scene by day, but with the sun gone, it felt desolate.

The warehouse itself sprawled across the land, like a whale stranded on the plain.

“Are you sure this is the place?”

The driver gave her a wary look as he stopped. Yomiko, cautious, decided to get out a little distance away.

“Well, give my regards to that girl, too.”

The driver tossed the words out casually as Yomiko paid and got out of the taxi, completely unaware that Nenene was being held prisoner inside the warehouse.

Yomiko checked her tracker one last time,there was no mistake, the bookmark’s signal was coming from the very back of the building.

A faded sign on the warehouse read Easter Publishing, a company that had gone bankrupt years ago. This must have been their old stock storage; what was happening here now was anyone’s guess.

Yomiko tipped her suitcase onto the ground and opened it.

Inside, it was crammed with books,probably close to a hundred. The books inside her coat weren’t the only ones she carried with her.

There was also a compartment stuffed with stationery: notepads, vocabulary cards, origami paper, and all the little things you’d find in a neighborhood shop. Yomiko scooped up a handful and slipped them into her coat’s inner pocket.

Donnie...

She unzipped a pocket on the lid and pulled out an envelope printed with the word “DANGER” and the British Library’s emblem. Inside was special “Battle Paper,” developed by the Library’s R&D department and only authorized for emergencies.

Yomiko swapped a few books out of her inner pocket for the Battle Paper, stowed the removed books in the suitcase, and said, “Sorry,please wait for me here,” before dragging the suitcase into the bushes to hide it.

She turned to face the warehouse and took a deep breath.

She was ready.

In her coat’s outer pocket, she found Nenene’s On the Street Corner with Cats,the copy she’d been carrying around for a signature. On the back cover, Nenene’s smile hadn’t changed a bit.

I have to help her. I have to bring back that smile.

Donnie… Watch over me.

Yomiko put the book in her chest pocket, adjusted her glasses, and started walking.

Her coat fluttered in the wind.

She circled to the side of the warehouse and stopped in front of one of several doors. The iron side door was locked tight, but in the moonlight, she saw how oddly clean it was,no rust, no grime, nothing to suggest it had sat abandoned for years. Clearly, someone had been coming and going here.

Yomiko tore out a flash card, pinched it between her fingers, and with a swift motion, brought her hand down. The sharp metallic clang rang out into the night.

Inside, the warehouse was filled with a strange scent,a blend of dust and paper. Books were piled on wooden pallets, stacked so high they seemed to form a labyrinth of tomes.

If the world of publishing was an ocean, this was its sunless deep. Time itself seemed to stop among these books, dust falling like marine snow.

But Yomiko found comfort in the silence. She’d grown up in this world,a sea of books. Even if a book never found a reader, she would still love it for simply existing.

The mountains of books towered over her.

She picked up one near at hand: GO! GO! Lambada! A wry smile crept onto her lips. Probably a book that tried to ride a fad and ended up dooming its publisher all the faster.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

A voice called out.

She turned to see a man in a suit standing there,not the knife-wielding one, but another. She’d expected there to be more than one enemy.

“You…!”

The instant he realized she wasn’t one of his, his hand dove into his jacket,there was a holster under his suit.

Yomiko opened GO! GO! Lambada!

He drew his gun and fired just as she tore a page free. The bullet flashed from the muzzle, but the pages she flung filled the air, fluttering like autumn leaves.

The man stared in shock. Every bullet vanished into the swirling pages, stopped cold,something that should have been impossible for paper. Bullets struck the leaves with high-pitched cracks, their tips buried halfway, before dropping harmlessly to the floor.

“Wha,!?”

He could barely believe it. Paper?!

Yomiko pressed her advantage. She slid the paper obi,the book’s sash,off, flicked her wrist, and flung it at him. The strip of paper spun through the air and slapped across his eyes.

“Gah,!?”

Blinded, he clawed at his face, trying to rip off the sash. He had no idea what was happening.

Yomiko marched right up to him, grabbed a heavy book from a pile, and muttered, “…Sorry about this.”

She brought the corner down on his head.

He collapsed with a cry. A book’s edge can be as devastating as a martial artist’s fist.

“…Should’ve asked how many more there were…”

Yomiko covered her mouth, grimacing.

But she got her answer quickly.

“What was that!?”

“A gun!”

More voices,his comrades, drawn by the noise.

“Oh, not good…”

Yomiko vanished quietly into the maze of books.

Scissorhands and two of Marihara’s men came upon the downed guard. He was unconscious, but unharmed.

Pages littered the floor. Scissorhands bent and found what he was looking for,a page with a bullet embedded in it, bent under the weight. The paper’s mysterious power had faded.

No doubt about it. That woman. He didn’t know how she’d found them, but she was here.

“That woman’s already inside…”

After checking with several informants, he’d learned who she was and how she became The Paper. She looked ordinary, but she was dangerous.

“A woman?” one henchman asked, not understanding.

This was one of Marihara’s hideouts, out in the country, with only a handful of men stationed. Marihara hated people around when he was with his books. If the British Library attacked in force, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

They should probably run, but Marihara wouldn’t want to leave any time soon. Things were getting tricky.

He could escape alone, but if Marihara was caught, he’d lose his reward.

“Tch…”

The best move might be to use the brat as a hostage.

“Search the warehouse. Watch for a woman,and for paper.”

Leaving his men behind, Scissorhands headed to Marihara’s room, hoping he hadn’t gone too far already.

---

Elsewhere, a guard wandered between the books.

How were just two men supposed to search a place holding nine million books?

Catwalks eight meters up, mountains of books separated into blocks,it felt more like wandering through city alleys than a warehouse.

Scissorhands had said to watch out for the woman.

A woman? With a gun, she’d be no problem.

Or maybe he’d have some fun first, just like in his favorite crime novels,a dark thrill rose in his chest.

He lit a cigarette with a match,matches felt more hardcore, more violent.

Suddenly, a gust of wind and a sharp noise from behind made the flame flicker.

He whirled, gun raised. A book pile had collapsed behind him, overloaded.

“Tch…”

Then he heard a sound slicing the air.

“?!”

The end of his cigarette dropped to the floor,not burnt to ash, but sliced clean off.

He stared at what had flown by,a torn page from a paperback, stuck in the stack of books like a shuriken.

Reacting fast, he fired in the direction the paper had come from.

"……………………"

When the gunfire subsided, silence took its place.

“Did I get her?”

The words were barely out of his mouth when more sheets of paper came spinning through the air,four this time, slicing both vertically and horizontally as they hurtled toward him.

“Damn it!”

He threw up his arms to shield his face. If he took one in the eye, it’d be over. The four pages grazed his sleeve and thigh, then fluttered away behind him.

“Whoa, whoa!”

Enraged, he fired his gun blindly into the darkness.

Nothing. No sign he’d hit anything. As if to confirm it, more paper came flying.

“You bastard!”

He charged deeper into the dark, desperation mixed with fury. But he was sure the enemy was up ahead,if he closed the distance and caught her, victory was his.

“Damn!”

He fired as he ran, but a page slashed his cheek, drawing blood.

He stopped short in surprise,he’d actually seen the paper flying at him. But the real problem was its direction: it had curved around the corner of a bookshelf, turning a full ninety degrees. Every bullet he’d fired had missed.

“Damn!”

A page stabbed into his shoulder. Looking closely, he saw that the edge was folded, allowing it to curve in midair.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

His boiling anger turned into a cruel sense of superiority. Now that he’d figured out the trick, he just needed to shoot around the corner and it’d be over.

He ducked and watched another page fly overhead. So, it wasn’t about aim,just about volume.

He jumped around the corner.

There stood a woman with glasses,Yomiko. For a split second, her appearance caught him off guard, but he didn’t make the mistake of lowering his weapon.

“Checkmate!”

But Yomiko was strangely calm, staring back at him from behind reflective lenses that hid her eyes.

“Check and mate,” she replied.

The words were barely out of her mouth when a sharp pain stabbed through his back.

“Agh!”

A page, its ends folded, was stuck deep in his back. The last page had flown over his head, then boomeranged around and struck him from behind.

“Guuh!”

He collapsed to the floor. Yomiko looked down at him and spoke softly.

“Surrender. Tell everyone else to surrender, too.”

Her tone was gentle, almost like she was admonishing a child. It reminded him of the high school teacher who had worried about him until the very end, even as he went off the rails.

“Damn… you…”

He fainted, leaving behind the same words he’d once spat at that teacher.

Regret clouded Yomiko’s face.

,

Nenene had been rolled onto the bed. Beside her, Marihara lay stretched out as if keeping her company.

The bed was oddly hard, and the handcuffs digging into her wrists made it even worse.

“How do you feel, Paul?” Marihara asked.

“…Now I finally get it. The meaning behind ‘Paul.’”

“Oh? Go on.”

“King’s Misery,” Nenene answered.

Marihara nodded, pleased.

Misery,the bestselling novel by Stephen King. The famous author Paul Sheldon is rescued from a car accident by Annie, a woman who claims to be his biggest fan. But she soon holds him captive, forcing him to revive his Misery series,torturing him with violence and drugs to make him write.

The terror of a writer trapped by a mad fan. It was exactly the nightmare Nenene found herself in now.

“I thought you might know. You must read a lot.”

“I haven’t read it. I saw the movie,” Nenene replied, coldly.

Marihara’s mouth twisted.

“She broke his legs and forced him to write, but I’m not writing a thing.”

Nenene glared at him, full of defiance.

“Why not?”

“Because if someone else forces you to write, you can’t write anything good. There’s none of ‘you’ in it. Any novel born that way is just pitiful.”

Marihara’s face shifted, expressionless.

“Maybe all I can write are happy endings, and I’ve never published a book that tackles social issues or wins the praise of important people. But I can say this,since I was thirteen, I’ve poured everything into every story I’ve written! While everyone else was out having fun, I was worrying over my writing. I never had a boyfriend, and people talked behind my back, said I was unlucky, but I was always thinking about novels! That’s my pride! No matter what some twisted pervert like you does, I won’t write even a single lowercase letter for you!”

Nenene’s rapid-fire words hung in the air.

“…!”

Marihara grabbed her jaw, squeezing hard enough to silence her.

“That’s why you’re still not there yet… You need to read the novel itself. In the book version, Sheldon has his foot chopped off with an axe, and the stump is burned with fire.”

“!?”

“Will you still say the same thing after that? I’m looking forward to finding out…”

As Marihara spoke, his words thick with madness, the door opened and Scissorhands entered, holding what looked like an A4 sheet of paper.

“…What?”

“…The Paper User is here. She’s caught up to us.”

“!?”

Marihara let go of Nenene.

“And the British Library?”

“No sign yet. But if we’re going to run, we’d better hurry. We can use the brat as a hostage,”

“No! That’s not an option!”

Marihara waved his hands frantically, rejecting Scissorhands’ idea.

“No, no, no! It has to be here! We’re not finished yet!”

“We can finish it after we escape.”

“No! It must be here! …Scissorhands, go! Take down the Paper User! While you do,”

Whatever Marihara intended to do, Nenene didn’t have the courage to ask.

“Tch… Hurry up and finish it. If it’s just her, that’s one thing, but if they all come, we’re in trouble.”

Scissorhands thrust the paper he was holding at Marihara.

“This is info about that woman. …Don’t underestimate her.”

The edges of the faxed paper were jagged, probably torn by Scissorhands himself.

As Marihara scanned the document, Scissorhands left the room.

After reading, Marihara let out a twisted laugh.

“Aha! Now this is good,she really is The Paper! That’s the kind of passion it takes to truly love books!”

Nenene swallowed hard.

Scissorhands turned and headed out of the room, into the warehouse.

Surprisingly, he realized somewhere inside himself that he was enjoying this.

He touched his face,the wound the woman had given him in the classroom. The bleeding had stopped, but it would leave a new scar.

Ironically, on the opposite side of his face, there was another scar,a mark left by a different paper user, from the time he’d fought the man from the British Library.

That man, that woman… The two paper users who had appeared before Scissorhands were like the first and second volumes of the same book.

It was convenient: the foreshadowing of the first volume comes alive in the second. It wouldn’t be bad to settle his score with the man by defeating the woman,she had the skills to make it worthwhile.

The thought that he could face off against the Paper User from the British Library,The Paper,sent a thrill through Scissorhands’ body.

The thousand blades embedded in his flesh seemed to tremble with excitement, just like their master.

“Deryaaah!”

Yomiko turned and bent backward. A sword slashed through the air just a centimeter from her side, slicing the edge of her coat and leaving a triangular scrap of cloth fluttering to the ground.

One of Marihara’s underlings had suddenly attacked with a Japanese sword. Yomiko had been careless, assuming her enemies were all armed with guns.

The man’s face was flushed, half from rage and half from exhilaration.

“Die!”

He hurled the words at her, far too direct for any kind of literary flourish. But Yomiko was more concerned about the blade in his hand than his lack of eloquence.

The sound of slicing air filled the corridor. Yomiko barely dodged in time, but in this narrow space, it was only a matter of time before she’d be cornered.

“Doryaa!”

The sword’s tip dug into a pile of stock books, snapping the plastic ties that held them together and leaving welt-like scars along their sides.

“Wha,?!”

The tip had sunk deeper than expected, and for a moment, the man froze, straining to pull it free. That opening was all Yomiko needed.

“Excuse me!”

She whipped a sports newspaper from her coat’s inner pocket, unfurled it, and in less than three seconds rolled it into a makeshift baton. At almost the same instant, the man wrenched his sword free.

“Daah!”

“Hiyah!”

Yomiko parried the incoming blade with the rolled newspaper.

“?!”

The man’s mouth dropped open when he realized his sword had been stopped by nothing but paper.

“Wh-what…?”

His battle cry was tinged with confusion.

“Yes!”

Yomiko blocked high, blocked low, fending off the sword’s attacks. Dodging could only last so long, but with a “long weapon” of her own, she could put up a real fight.

“Hmph! Hmph! Take this!”

The man’s attacks grew more desperate, brute force replacing technique. Clearly, he found the absurdity of fighting a newspaper with a sword infuriating. As he pressed harder, Yomiko began to lose ground.

“W-wait… just a sec,kya!”

The surface of the newspaper began to shred and fly apart. As the fight dragged on, Yomiko’s physical weakness was starting to show.

“Daah!”

Finally, with a powerful blow, the man split the sports newspaper in two. The upper half soared into the air.

Convinced he’d won, the man laughed,a critical mistake.

“!?”

Yomiko caught the falling paper, and with a swift motion, unrolled it. The pages of the newspaper opened before the man like a great scroll,page after page.

“!? ?!”

Blockbuster movie announcements. A pro baseball player engaged to a former race queen. Four hundred fans mobbing an idol’s debut event.

The lurid headlines and photos blocked the man’s view.

“Gah!”

He swept the newspaper aside with his sword,but Yomiko was already gone.

She’d circled behind him, a new weapon in hand, and brought it down hard on the back of his head with a dry, echoing thud.

“Guh…”

His sword fell from his hand and clattered across the floor as he crumpled.

Yomiko sighed, dropping her weapon,a paper fan,to the floor.

But this was no ordinary paper fan. It was a special item developed by the British Library’s research department after much trial and error: strong, powerful, and lightweight,something any nation would covet.

“That’s three… is that all of them?”

Yomiko muttered, only to be interrupted by the sound of applause.

“A marvelous performance, Paper User.”

At the far end of the corridor, Scissorhands stood, leaning against a mountain of books and clapping.

“You, uh,”

“Now that I think of it, I never introduced myself, did I?”

He straightened, letting paper scraps flutter to the floor where he’d been leaning.

“I’m Scissorhands. Like you, I have a special ability.”

With a swift motion of his hand, a book behind him shredded apart and scattered into the air.

“…You’ve probably noticed, but I’ll tell you: I have a thousand blades,large and small,embedded in my body. They’re my weapons.”

Yomiko tried to judge the distance. Even as he spoke, he never dropped his guard,instead, he steadily closed the gap.

“Paper User. What’s the British Library up to? Where are the others?”

“They’re not coming… I’m here alone.”

That answer seemed to genuinely surprise him; his mouth fell open.

“You’re alone?! Why?”

“To save Sumiregawa-sensei.”

Yomiko’s hand moved quietly inside her coat. Scissorhands was a different caliber than the henchmen. She’d need stronger battle paper.

“Are you insane? For just that brat?”

“She’s not a brat. She’s someone important to me.”

“What matters is the books she writes! All Paper Users are the same!”

Yomiko’s fingers found the envelope.

“…Where is she?”

“She’s in the room up ahead. If you beat me, you can go. Who knows what you’ll find by then?”

“…What do you mean?”

“Didn’t the kid tell you? Paul Sheldon.”

At the sound of the full name, everything became clear to Yomiko.

“!”

She pulled out the special battle paper from the envelope, readying herself.

“Let’s have some fun, Paper User!”

Scissorhands opened his mouth wide. Sitting on his tongue was a rectangular stack of razor blades.

“Eee-yahhh!”

With a monstrous roar, he spat the razors, which hurtled through the air toward Yomiko.

At the same instant, Yomiko threw Battle Paper No. 16: “Wild Bullet.” What started as a single sheet split into two, then four, then eight, multiplying in the air.

Between them, countless razors and sheets of paper collided,some cut, some knocked aside…

After the brief clash, several razors slipped through and flew at Yomiko. She dove to the side, rolling across the floor.

The spot where she’d stood was now bristling with razors. If she’d taken that hit, she’d be done for.

“…!”

Yomiko looked back, shocked. Scissorhands was standing there, completely unfazed.

“I took down all your pretty papers.”

He grinned in triumph.

“It’s rock-paper-scissors, The Paper. You’re paper, I’m scissors. You never had a chance!”

As soon as he spoke, his fingertips sliced through the cords holding up a tower of books.

The makeshift skyscraper toppled, crashing toward Yomiko in an avalanche.

“If you’re going to die, you might as well be buried under books!”

There was no time to even look up. Yomiko pulled out Battle Paper No. 9: “The Great Wall” and held it over her head.

Intricately folded, it spread out from the center into a dome-shaped framework.

Without pause, a downpour of books crashed down onto it.

The paper frame sagged, groaned, and creaked, but somehow held together.

As Yomiko leapt away, the makeshift dome finally gave in under the weight, collapsing behind her.

“Not bad, The Paper…”

“Thank you…”

She wasn’t joking or mocking him,Yomiko just used polite language with everyone, even her enemies.

But she had no intention of simply staying on the defensive.

From her sleeves, she slid sheets of paper into her hands. With lightning-fast dexterity, she folded them,two paper airplanes, ready for the next move.

"Excuse me!"

With a flick of her wrist, Yomiko hurled the paper airplane straight at Scissorhands.

But Scissorhands raised his foot and, with a sharp kick tracing a sideways figure eight in the air, sliced the approaching paper plane clean in two. The pieces fluttered to the ground.

"What's wrong, The Paper? Show me what you can really do!"

With a manic grin, Scissorhands marched toward her.

"You're supposed to be strong, right? You love books, don't you? Paper is your weapon, isn't it?"

He peeled off his coat as he walked, revealing something grotesque,his forearms, from elbow to wrist, were made of gleaming metal.

"Look! These are my Scissorhands!"

With a half-turn of his wrist, the metal parts split open and snapped forward. His palms spun around, comically grasping his own wrists, and the exposed metal flashed like the blade of a sickle.

In an instant, both arms had become weapons,gigantic, shining shears.

Yomiko could only stare in shock. He looked like a monster from a children's superhero show. It was more astonishing than frightening. She'd seen many agents in her life, but never one who had gone so far as to transform his own body.

"Kill!"

True to his name, Scissorhands swung his arm sideways. Yomiko ducked just in time, and a bookshelf pillar was cleaved in two with a screech.

"Kill! Kill, kill!"

Scissorhands rampaged through books and shelves, mowing them down indiscriminately. The cut edges left behind showed just how deadly those blades were.

Backing away, Yomiko fumbled for Combat Paper No. 27,"Blown Away",inside her coat.

But in her haste, she made a fatal mistake. She hadn’t checked behind her and found herself cornered at a dead end.

"Paaa-per..."

Backlit by the warehouse lamp, Scissorhands spread his bladed arms wide like a monster from a horror film, savoring every slow, deliberate step as he closed in.

Above his head, he crossed his arms, forming a monstrous pair of scissors. Sparks and a shrill metallic shriek filled the air as the blades scraped together.

"I'll cut off your head, The Paperrrrr..."

His shadow loomed, swallowing up Yomiko, her back pressed against a mountain of books.

"This...this is the scar you gave me..."

A wound squirmed on Scissorhands’ right cheek,the mark Yomiko had left with a flying sheet of paper back at Kaitanezaka High.

"And this one...is from that man..."

On the opposite cheek, another scar twisted. That man could only be the previous Paper, Donnie.

"You fought Donnie, didn’t you?"

Cornered, Yomiko still met his gaze with unwavering determination.

"Yeah. He was stupidly honest, the most earnest guy you could imagine. I left a scar on his back too... So, how's he doing now?"

Those words hurt far more than any blade, and Scissorhands knew it,that was his aim. He wanted her to say it out loud.

Yomiko swallowed hard, her face set. What she was about to say took all the courage, resolve, and will she had.

"Donnie Nakajima is dead..."

Even with all her resolve, saying it was agony. Sadness surged through her whole body; it felt like her temperature dropped.

"Dead? How?"

Scissorhands pressed on mercilessly. He already knew the answer. What mattered was making Yomiko confront it.

Yomiko nearly drowned in her own anguish. If she’d been asked the same question last night in Nenene’s room, what would she have done?

She could have just kept silent. She could have lied. But that would betray the bond she and Donnie had shared, would betray them both.

She couldn’t do it. He was the only person in the world she loved as much as she loved books,her mentor as a Paper User, her lover as Yomiko Readman, her respected and admired predecessor. The man who loved books more than anyone, who smiled like a boy.

She had to tell the truth.

"I killed him. I killed Donnie. To become The Paper."

The pain of saying it was far worse than any physical wound. Words could be so much crueler than any blade.

"...Ha! Ha! He was killed! By a woman! You're one terrifying Paper User!"

Scissorhands' mocking laughter cut deeper than any attack. Yomiko fought to keep herself from collapsing,not yet, not now.

Scissorhands was thrilled. What had begun as an interrogation to create an opening had turned to pure sadistic pleasure.

The most interesting line in the informant’s report came to mind:

"...After killing her predecessor, Donnie Nakajima, she was appointed the sixteenth Paper a year later. It's believed that, though unofficial, she and Donnie Nakajima were romantically involved."

One look at Yomiko’s face told him the truth,her eyes were filled with despair.

"Go apologize to Donnie in the afterlife!"

Scissorhands laughed triumphantly, crossed his blades, and charged.

"Die, The Paperrrrrr!"

But this was exactly the chance Yomiko had been waiting for. She suddenly dropped straight down, her body sinking to the floor.

"What?!"

Scissorhands' eyes widened in confusion. Yomiko’s body was gone, but her coat hung in midair. At the collar, a small wedge of folded paper had hooked it onto the string binding the stack of books behind her. It hung there like a jacket on a hanger.

Scissorhands' blades swept through the space just above Yomiko’s head,less than a centimeter away,lopping off a few strands of her hair. The tips stabbed deep into the coat’s lining.

Sitting on the floor, Yomiko quickly rolled sideways and escaped under Scissorhands’ legs.

Stubborn woman! Scissorhands seethed with rage. He knew all too well her coat was loaded with her dangerous papers. Now, without it, she was practically defenseless.

He’d meant to finish her in a single blow, but now he’d make her suffer.

As he yanked his blades out of the coat, he realized,too late,that he’d also pierced a piece of paper attached to the lining.

It was a black sheet dusted with a powdery substance.

Combat Paper No. 27: "Blown Away."

It was coated with a mix of black powder and special chemicals. Normally harmless, but when Yomiko’s ability dissolved the coating, it became a "paper bomb," ready to explode at the slightest spark.

"Y-you...!"

Scissorhands didn't stop. He tore the blades free, but as they scraped together, a shower of sparks flew.

A blast of heat and fire erupted in his face.

"GYAAAAHHH!"

The flames lasted only a moment, but they mercilessly burned Scissorhands’ face. Sparks flew into his eyes, and the world went black.

"You, damn Paper! Damn you!"

Swinging his blades wildly, he accidentally sliced through the cord holding up the mountain of books.

The avalanche that had nearly buried Yomiko came crashing down,this time onto Scissorhands.

"Ugh,gah! Ahhh!"

The books, now deadly weapons, pounded every part of his body. Blades shot out from his twisted joints.

"Ohh,gah!"

Crushed by the books, wounded by his own blades, Scissorhands finally fell silent.

"...Hah... hah... hah..."

Yomiko, having barely escaped the collapse, steadied her breathing and slowly stood up.

“………………”

The mental exhaustion was even heavier than the physical.

Even Yomiko was surprised she was still standing.

If she hadn’t steeled herself, she would have drowned in her grief.

Donnie…

She touched the frame of the glasses Donnie had left her.

Just like their previous owner, they were called old-fashioned, clumsy, and uncool by others,but Yomiko loved these glasses more than anything. She couldn’t bear to be apart from them, not even for a moment.

“…My coat…”

The coat she’d sacrificed was buried somewhere beneath the mountain of books. She didn’t have the luxury to go digging for it now.

Yomiko turned and walked toward the room Scissorhands had told her about.

“True talent only appears when you overcome despair. Do you understand that?”

Marihara had stripped off his shirt, now bare-chested.

“!”

Nenene’s eyes widened. There wasn’t even time to feel shame.

Marihara’s upper body was completely covered in tattoos,lines of text etched into his skin.

“I can never return to that green field I loved. Not ever again…”

,a line from Nenene’s Brothers of Green Field.

“After the rain, the off-key sound of a guitar echoed in the sky. Stars twinkled in rhythm, hundreds of light-years away.”

,a phrase from Love Song from the Attic.

“…So just that alone made me happy. No matter what changed in the world, you know who I am…”

,from her debut, You Know Who I Am.

All across his body, there were quotes from Nenene’s books, carved deep into his skin.

It brought to mind the ghost story “Hoichi the Earless,” but seeing it in reality was nothing short of horrifying.

“It was agony,unimaginable pain. You get it, right? But I endured it all, just to understand your writing more deeply. Because I’m your number one fan.”

As he drew closer, Yomiko could smell a heavy, sickly sweetness on his breath, like overripe fruit.

Nenene turned her face away as far as she could.

“Stay away! What kind of fan are you? If that’s what fans are, I don’t need any!”

Her rejection twisted Marihara’s face.

“You don’t need any…? Did you say you don’t need any?”

“That’s right! If you want to fantasize, do it by yourself! Don’t drag me into it!”

With a loud slap, Marihara struck Nenene across the face.

“!”

Nenene’s cheek flushed red with pain.

“Writers exist because of their fans! You write your novels for us, don’t you?”

“No!”

“Then who are you writing for?!”

It was the same question she’d struggled with herself just last night. She still didn’t have a full answer, but this much she could say:

“Maybe I write for other readers, but I’m absolutely not writing for you!”

She braced herself for another blow, but instead, Marihara’s hand gripped the edge of the sheet and yanked it away.

What she saw beneath stunned Nenene.

They were all her books.

From her first work, You Know Who I Am, to her latest, On the Street Corner Where Cats Are,

Sixteen volumes, packed tightly together.

This bed had been built out of Nenene’s own books.

How many thousands had he bought…?

“So many! I’ve read every one of your books! And you say it’s not for me?! I know everything about you! I understand you, because I’ve read them all!”

It was just like the words Yomiko had once spoken to her in the library.

“All I’ve ever thought about is you! And you’re saying you don’t need me?”

His leather pants were visibly bulging. Marihara stood before Nenene, fully aroused.

“…I’ll violate you on top of your own books. Despair like that will deepen your writing.”

Confronted with such a direct threat, true terror welled up in Nenene once again.

This time it wasn’t the war of words or willpower,this was a blunt, overwhelming reality of violence.

“What do you mean, ‘for me’? ‘My education’… This is what it’s really about, isn’t it?”

She tried to raise her voice, but even she could hear the fear that crept in around the edges of her words.

“I know everything about you… That’s why I just want you to know me, too.”

Suddenly, Marihara’s voice grew quiet.

But that only made it more clear,he was frighteningly, hopelessly sincere.

To be violated by her own fan, on the books that were her life’s work…

Was this really the result of everything she’d given herself to, ever since she was thirteen?

Was this the end of all those years, after losing her father, never dating or making close friends, pouring herself only into stories?

A reality more cruel than any tragedy she’d ever written was about to overtake Nenene.

“I love you, my Paul S…”

Marihara still never once called her by her real name.

Just as Nenene felt her heart plunging into despair, the door opened.

“Not now, Scissorhands!”

Marihara shouted without even looking up.

“Step away from Sumiregawa-sensei.”

A quiet voice scolded Marihara from the doorway.

A woman stood silhouetted against the warehouse lights, only the glint of her glasses shining white in the darkness.

“…You?”

Marihara turned toward the door, realizing the intruder was someone he didn’t know, just as he was about to throw himself on Nenene.

From the bed, Nenene called out,

“Sensei!”

Yomiko Readman was standing there, coatless.

“I’ve come to protect you,just as I promised.”

“Hurry up, you idiot!”

Relief crept into Nenene’s voice, sapping its strength.

Given what she’d endured, it was no wonder.

“‘The Paper’…”

Yomiko’s voice hardened as Marihara used her codename. Now was the moment,she could hide nothing from Nenene anymore.

“I’m sorry I kept this from you, Sumiregawa-sensei. I’m an agent with the British Library Special Operations Division. My codename is The Paper. I have a special ability,I fight using paper as a weapon.”

She stated it simply, matter-of-factly.

Nenene just stared, unsure how much she could even comprehend.

Yomiko turned back to Marihara.

“You’re the one who threatened and kidnapped Sumiregawa-sensei, aren’t you?”

“…To make her into a perfect author.”

“That’s not a reason.”

Yomiko took a step into the room.

But Marihara lashed out with an act of desperation.

“Don’t move!”

He pulled a gun from under a cushion and aimed it at Nenene.

“If you move, I’ll shoot her.”

The gaping black muzzle made Nenene’s body freeze.

“…Aren’t you supposed to be her fan?”

“I’m her number one fan. I know everything about her.”

“And yet you’d threaten to shoot her?”

“As long as she has her head and hands, she can still write books.”

The air around Yomiko seemed to shimmer with something new,an emotion she had never felt before.

“Did Scissorhands get taken down? How many people from the British Library are here?”

Suppressing something inside, Yomiko replied,

“…The British Library has nothing to do with this. I’m not The Paper right now. I’m Yomiko Readman,a part-time teacher at Kakinezaka High School, and a fan of Sumiregawa Nenene.”

She locked eyes with Nenene, almost as if praying, almost as if calling out to her soul.

“…A fan? If you’re just a fan, then stay out of it. How much do you really care about her?”

Yomiko turned her gaze to Marihara.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Mere fans just buy the latest book, get swept up in their own emotions, and if the author writes anything even a little outside their tastes, they lose interest and throw her away. To them, authors are nothing more than a new toy,tossed aside as soon as something newer and flashier comes along.”

Nenene trembled at his words.

“That’s not true…”

“They come to your house. They beg for autographs. If the work isn’t exactly what they imagined, they get angry.”

Yomiko had no rebuttal. Marihara’s words were dripping with malice and prejudice,but he’d hit on something she herself had once done.

“You call yourself a big fan, but how much do you really care about her? I’m different. I can draw out the true talent sleeping inside her. I can turn her into a writer whose name will echo through eternity!”

The gun barrel shook in his hand. He was so overcome with excitement he’d lost control,a deeply dangerous state.

After a pause, Yomiko finally spoke, quietly.

“Sumiregawa-sensei is not a character in your story.”

It was the first time Nenene had ever heard Yomiko’s voice like this. Her words quietly soaked into Nenene’s heart.

“Whatever path Sumiregawa-sensei chooses, I’m going to follow her. She doesn’t need to be famous, or win any big awards. Because those are books she thought up, decided on, and wrote all on her own. I’ve been reading those books for so long. And they’ve moved me, and given me courage. I want to keep reading books by a teacher like that.”

Compared to Marihara’s frantic rambling, Yomiko’s tone was quiet and calm. But Nenene didn’t miss a single word.

“When I first read your book, You Know Who I Am, I was so deeply moved. When I found out it was written by a thirteen-year-old girl, I was amazed. Someone so young, already knowing what she wanted to say to the world… I couldn’t help but admire you.”

Maybe these were words she should have said a long time ago. Deep down, Yomiko knew it.

“But then, just for a moment, I wondered… maybe the person you truly wanted to speak to was someone much closer. Your father, or your mother…”

Nenene said nothing,neither agreeing nor denying.

“I don’t know if your words reached those people. But I at least wanted you to know,your words have reached us. They moved us, gave us courage. And now, we want to tell you that.”

Yomiko stumbled a little over her words, awkward but sincere.

“That’s why I’ve always loved you, Sumiregawa-sensei.”

It was almost like a confession of love. Yomiko took a deep breath.

“Isn’t it a wonderful thing to create work that makes someone fall in love with you before they ever meet you? Isn’t that so much better than some fancy award?”

Yomiko was looking at Nenene. Nenene was looking at Yomiko.

There, in that room, was one writer and two readers. But Marihara stood alone, left behind.

“Don’t just say pretty words… I know what you’ve done.”

Marihara’s voice twisted with spite. The FAX page Scissorhands had brought made a dry, papery sound.

“You killed your lover to become The Paper! You killed Donnie Nakajima, the previous one, with your own hands,with your paper!”

It was a direct attack. Marihara’s words struck Yomiko at her most vulnerable, when she was most exposed.

Her heart was left bleeding.

“?!”

Nenene’s gaze pierced her. For now, it was still just shock, but at any moment it could turn into accusation or fear.

“More than your teacher! More than your lover! You chose the book! As a fellow bibliophile, I get it, but how can anyone trust the words of someone so heartless?!”

Every word stabbed into Yomiko.

Her eyes lost their focus.

Marihara’s gun swung away from Nenene,pointing, with lightning speed, at Yomiko.

“!”

Yomiko’s reaction was a beat too slow.

“You idiot!”

Nenene threw herself at Marihara.

The bookmark fluttered down from her chest.

Even off balance, Marihara pulled the trigger. The bullet flew straight at Yomiko.

“…!”

There was no avoiding it. Leaving her coat behind had been a mistake. Without paper, a paper user is just an ordinary person.

The bullet struck Yomiko in the chest. Her body jerked backward and collapsed to the floor.

Nenene, tangled on the ground with Marihara, cried out in anguish.

“Sensei! Sensei!”

Yomiko didn’t move.

“Come on… Paul… let’s enjoy the rest…”

Marihara staggered upright.

“Sensei! Sensei!”

But Nenene’s whole world had narrowed to Yomiko, lying motionless on the floor.

“…This is the dead end… Hope you learned something.”

“You idiot! I’d never write an ending like this, not even if it killed me!”

“Face despair, Paul. That’s how a writer grows,”

But Marihara’s words cut off.

“…guh…”

He couldn’t finish. A piece of paper was embedded in his throat.

“Whoa…”

Nenene was just as stunned.

“Sen,”

She looked to the door through her tears.

Yomiko was still lying there. But her arm was stretched out, as if she’d just thrown something. It was then Nenene realized,the bookmark was what was lodged in Marihara’s throat.

The bookmark had fallen from her pocket and, caught by a breeze from the sheets, had drifted toward Yomiko.

“Pa… per…”

Was he referring to the paper in his throat, or to Yomiko herself? Marihara collapsed to the floor.

“……………”

Yomiko slowly pushed herself up.

“Sensei!”

Still handcuffed, Nenene lunged for Yomiko, crashing into her and knocking her over.

“You idiot! Don’t scare me like that, you moron!”

“…Sorry…”

Pinned by Nenene, Yomiko stammered an apology. She didn’t even remember using her power. So how…?

“Oh…”

Yomiko pulled On the Street Corner Where Cats Are from her breast pocket.

The bullet was lodged almost dead center. Flipping through it, she saw it had pierced almost the whole book, stopping just before the last five pages.

“……………”

Yomiko looked at Nenene.

“For a happy ending, is this one a little too normal?”

“…I like it. I like it way better than a dead end.”

……………………………………

It was the kind of moment that should have ended in laughter, but only silence hung between them.

“…Just wait a second…”

Yomiko got up and shuffled outside to get some tissues.

She twisted a piece into a thin string and threaded it through the lock on Nenene’s handcuffs.

“Don’t move, okay?”

“There’s no way that’ll,”

Before she could finish, the handcuffs sprang open.

“What?”

Nenene, suddenly free, grabbed the makeshift string from Yomiko. It was nothing but an ordinary, floppy twist of tissue.

“…This is…”

“That’s the power of a paper user… The Paper…”

Even seeing it in person, it was hard to believe. At best, it felt like a magic trick.

“Let’s do the other one…”

Yomiko, still subdued, repeated the process for her own cuff.

“Hey, Sensei…”

A drop of water landed on Nenene’s hand as she reached out.

“…Sensei?”

It was a tear. Yomiko’s tears were dripping onto Nenene’s hand.

“…Sorry… Just give me a moment…”

“…Was it true… what you said before?”

It felt cruel to ask, but Nenene couldn’t stop herself.

“…Yes…”

The twist of tissue bent in the keyhole. Yomiko’s focus broke, and it unraveled back into paper.

“…When it comes to books, I just… lose control… I can’t help myself…”

She spoke through sobs. Nenene didn’t know the details, but she could feel Yomiko’s sorrow.

“…Donnie chose me over books… But I… I chose books over him… Why…? Even though I knew there’d never be another Donnie…”

Head bowed, Yomiko let her tears and words spill out.

“…I thought about dying… But Donnie left me these glasses in the end… If I died, then there really wouldn’t be anything left for him to read… But… is that just an excuse…?”

Nenene had reached her breaking point. Still handcuffed, she grabbed Yomiko’s face and lifted it to look at her.

“Eh…?”

Yomiko’s cheeks, streaked with tears, were pulled upward.

“H-hey!”

“Don’t cry! Smile!”

Nenene’s face was fierce with determination. Yomiko just stared, stunned.

“I don’t care about your reasons! But if Donnie really loved you more than books,if he chose you,he’d never want to see you cry!”

Yomiko looked straight at Nenene. Even though she was eight years older, her eyes behind the glasses looked like a child’s.

“Smile! You love books, right?! You love them so much it hurts, don’t you?! Then read my books! I’ll write you all the stories you want,I’ll make you glad you’re alive! I’ll make you and Donnie, in those glasses, both happy! I’ll give you your happy ending! So don’t be sad anymore!”

Nenene was desperate,she felt if she didn’t hold Yomiko together now, Yomiko would never recover.

“Ahh, ahh…”

More tears poured from Yomiko’s eyes. Different tears this time.

Nenene let go; Yomiko’s cheeks bounced back.

“Sensei…”

Yomiko buried her face in Nenene’s shoulder and cried.

“I told you not to cry!”

“Sorry… but, but…”

It was hard to believe this was the same girl who had just defeated a monster. She wept like a child.

Nenene gently stroked her hair, grateful and kind.

The rest was cleanup.

Yomiko and Nenene struggled to drag the unconscious men into one place and tie them up. Only Scissorhands was left pinned beneath a stack of books,ropes alone wouldn’t hold him. He might have been seriously injured, but he wouldn’t die. As for Marihara, he was basically in a state of suspended animation. With proper treatment, he’d be fine.

They called the police from a payphone outside and briefly explained the situation, leaving a written note just in case.

That was where Yomiko’s involvement ended. Getting any deeper would only cause trouble for her. Maybe it was already too late for that.

Nenene was supposed to stay behind to give her statement, but she clung to Yomiko, unwilling to be separated.

And so the two of them walked home together, side by side, down a quiet country road where hardly any cars passed.

“…Sumiregawa-sensei, are you sure it wouldn’t have been better to stay? I’m sure the police still have questions for you.”

“That’s exactly why. I’m exhausted, so I’ll give them my statement tomorrow. I’m injured, you know.”

“Ah… right, but, um…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll smooth things over. I might not look it, but I’m a writer,just leave it to me.”

“Thank you…”

The sound of Yomiko’s suitcase rolling along seemed even lonelier in the quiet night. Nenene’s uniform had been torn up, so she wore Yomiko’s coat over her shoulders. Getting just the coat out without waking up Scissorhands had been a real ordeal.

“But seriously… you could’ve at least brought some money with you!”

“Sorry. The taxi fare was more than I expected.”

Nenene’s wallet was still at school, and Yomiko had used up almost all her cash just getting there. That’s why they couldn’t even flag down one of the rare taxis that passed by.

Even so, the long walk home was, for some reason, filled with a gentle peace.

“Hey, Sensei?”

“Yes? What is it, Sumiregawa-sensei?”

“Stop calling me that! It’s confusing when we’re both ‘sensei.’”

“Then… what should I call you?”

“Just ‘Nenene’ is fine.”

“……………”

Yomiko fell silent, lost in thought, her face wrinkling in distress as she played through various options in her head.

“That’s… honestly, really hard for me to say…”

“What? I’m eight years older than you,it’s fine, really.”

“But still…”

Yomiko, who used honorifics with everyone, found it awkward to suddenly call Nenene by her first name.

“Oh, whatever. Then you can call me ‘Sumiregawa-san’ if that’s easier.”

“Sumiregawa…san?”

“Yeah, that’s good.”

Yomiko sighed in relief, glad to have found a compromise.

“So… what is it, Sumiregawa-san?”

“Do you think I have any talent?”

It was a heavy question, tossed out lightly. Maybe what Marihara had said was still bothering her. Still, Yomiko could only answer with honesty.

“Well… to be honest, I’m not sure.”

“Why not?”

“There are all kinds of talent. But whether you have it or not, I love your novels.”

“Heh… well, thanks.”

Their conversation drifted away into the soft spring night. The two of them enjoyed the kind of rambling chat they’d never had time for before.

“…Hey, Sensei. Want to hear about my next story?”

Yomiko’s face lit up instantly. “Yes, please! If you don’t mind!”

Nenene folded her arms and started speaking, drawing it out like a performer.

“This time, I’m thinking of making the protagonist a woman who’s just started teaching at a small high school.”

“Huh…?”

“She’s kind of clumsy and not exactly cool, but in the underworld, she’s something of a legend.”

“…Um, Sumiregawa-san, are you sure that’s not…”

“And she uses her special powers to beat up the bad guys and help her students!”

Yomiko stopped, frowning in protest. “Isn’t that basically a nonfiction story about a real person…?”

Nenene just grinned mischievously and turned around.

“So what? It’d be a waste not to use such good material.”

“Well, I have my own circumstances… If I get too much attention, my superiors will yell at me…”

“It’s for my novel. Please, be a good sport and let me use you as inspiration.”

“There are a lot of scary people out there… You might end up getting dragged into my mess, too, Sumiregawa-san…”

Nenene stopped, turning to look at Yomiko.

“If that happens, I’ll just have you protect me again.”

“Me…?”

“You said you’d protect me, didn’t you?”

“…Yeah…”

The spring moon shone softly down on them.

Nenene, in high spirits, strode ahead; Yomiko followed quietly behind.

“You’re my teacher, and I’m your teacher’s teacher…”

“It’s like a tongue-twister…”

“And you’re my fan, and I’m your fan.”

At Nenene’s unexpected line, Yomiko couldn’t help but raise her voice.

“A fan? Of mine? But you’re my teacher,”

“Sumiregawa-san, remember?”

“S-sorry… but…”

“It’s fine. You don’t get relationships like this very often. For me, this is a first.”

Nenene laughed, her smile pure and bright,a true seventeen-year-old’s smile.

“…Me too,” Yomiko said.

For that smile, Yomiko had run herself ragged all day. It was more than enough reward.

Donnie…

Painful memories came back, but compared to yesterday, the pain was much softer now.

That was thanks to Nenene.

Yomiko felt a new kind of happiness,different from what she felt reading books.

“What are you spacing out for, Sensei? It’s almost midnight,let’s go home.”

“…Right.”

Beneath the calm spring sky, the two of them walked leisurely home,down that long, joyful road together.

A few days later.

“Oh! Sumiregawa!”

“You doing okay now?!”

After finishing her police interview, Nenene returned to school for the first time in a while, and was immediately surrounded by her classmates as soon as she entered the AV room.

The regular classrooms were still being repaired from the holes Scissorhands had made, so for the time being, classes were being held in the AV room.

“Yeah, I’m fine now. The TV talk shows were a bit much, though.”

Because a high school author had been kidnapped by a stalker, Nenene was at the center of a media storm. Some networks spun it as a scandal, but as the victim, public sympathy was overwhelmingly on her side.

And in a very pragmatic way, all the fuss meant her books started selling again.

Marihara and the others had been arrested and were awaiting trial.

The detective who questioned Nenene was a passionate guy, and promised her, “We’ll definitely make them pay for their crimes.” She didn’t know how things would turn out, but she felt she could trust him for now.

“Were you hurt at all?”

“Everyone was so worried about you, seriously.”

Nori and Harumi patted her on the shoulder. It felt like ages since her classmates had felt this close.

This whole ridiculous incident had been far from pleasant, but, like Marihara had said, she’d gained something important from it.

Her father even called her for the first time in ages. His awkward words were laced with worry. In the past, she might have been angry that he still didn’t come home in person, but now, strangely, she just couldn’t bring herself to feel upset.

Why had she started writing novels in the first place? Maybe at first, it really was for her parents’ praise and attention.

But before she knew it, the act of “writing” itself had become what moved her forward.

So, what would she write for now?

Honestly, she still wasn’t sure. But she had a feeling the answer might lie in the emotions she’d felt that night, desperately trying to encourage Yomiko.

Nenene decided she’d figure it out in her own time. At the very least, she had a “reader” who would always pester her for thoughts and opinions.

The bell rang for class.

“Shoot, I didn’t do the homework…”

“Sumiregawa, see you later.”

“Let’s have lunch together today!”

“First period’s World History, right?”

The students scattered to their seats.

Nenene also took her seat,or, to be precise, her seat in the AV room.

The door opened.

“Stand… bow!!”

At the class rep’s command, everyone bowed in unison.

Nenene raised her head and looked at the podium.

“…No way.”

A male teacher stood there, looking a little lost.

---

When you’re busy, you don’t really notice it, but the library has always felt so warm.

It’s not just the sunlight. Maybe it’s the atmosphere created by all the books.

Nenene stood quietly in the middle of it.

“I’m not feeling well,” she’d said, slipping out of class. Before she knew it, her feet had brought her here, not the nurse’s office,to the place where she’d first met Yomiko.

Yomiko Readman had left the school “for personal reasons” the very next day after the incident.

No one tried to stop a teacher who’d skipped every class on her first day, then vanished again during a crisis on her second. And so, Yomiko Readman, branded a “problem teacher,” disappeared from Kakinezaka High.

“…Really? Did you have to just leave without a word…?”

Nenene’s voice was feeble as she wandered deeper into the library.

That long walk home had been the last time she’d seen Yomiko. They’d talked a lot, but there was still so much more she’d wanted to say.

Breaks between classes. After school. On holidays. Ditching class to hang out in the library. There were so many things she thought they’d talk about, sooner or later.

But Yomiko had left, just like that, as if the whole ordeal had been a dream.

Nenene hadn’t said anything about Yomiko to the police. If it was inconvenient, she’d just say, “Sorry, I was tied up, so I don’t know.” In a way, it wasn’t even a lie.

Apparently, Marihara and the others hadn’t mentioned Yomiko either. She gathered as much from the detective’s questions. The underworld must have its own rules.

“…Didn’t you want my autograph…?”

Nenene muttered as she made her way to the very back corner of the library,the spot where she’d first met Yomiko.

Of course, no one was there.

But… there was something just a little off. Anyone who knew bookshelves would notice,a subtle, tiny oddity.

Among the old hardcovers, a few pocket-sized novels were hidden.

“!”

She snatched one up in a rush. On the Street Corner with Cats. It was her own book.

There was a round hole in the center,a bullet hole. No doubt, it was the copy Yomiko had carried.

As she flipped the pages, a letter fell out, tucked inside as a bookmark.

It wasn’t even in an envelope,just a plain piece of white paper, folded in four.

She looked down at the text. It was handwritten, the characters squiggling across the page like earthworms.

Nenene began to read:

To Sumiregawa Nenene,

Sorry, I suddenly have something urgent to take care of, so I have to leave.

I wanted to get your autograph, but let’s save that for the next time we meet.

Thank you for everything. It was only two days, but I really enjoyed spending time with you.

Please take care of your deadlines, and stay healthy.

P.S. I’ll always be watching you. No matter where you are in the world, I’ll be reading you through your books. Not just me,everyone else too. You’re never alone. But if you ever have a hard time or get stuck, just call me. I’ll come running from wherever I am.

I’m so grateful to have found your books, and to have met you in person.

That night, you saved me. Thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart.

P.P.S. …But if possible, maybe pick a different theme for your next book…

– Yomiko Readman

The handwriting was terrible, and the letter itself was a mess.

Nenene smiled wryly, muttering to herself,

“Seriously, how did you expect me to read this with writing like that? I’m a professional author, you know…”

Even as she laughed, tears fell from both her eyes.

It had been a long time since she’d cried over someone else’s words.

“I even practiced my signature for you… Idiot…”

With a tearful smile, Nenene gazed out the window.

Out past the school gates, she could almost hear the clatter of that suitcase rolling down the spring hillside.

England.

There’s an apartment on a corner of Baker Street.

On a certain floor of that apartment is a room.

A simple nameplate on the door reads “D.N.”

Open the door, and you’re met by a flood of books.

Bookshelves fill the halls and every room, all of them, of course, overflowing.

Western books, Japanese books, photo collections, paperbacks, comics, picture books,every type of book imaginable. They say a bookshelf reveals its owner’s soul, and if that’s true, then the owner of this collection must be open-hearted,or, to put it less kindly, utterly disorganized.

Yomiko stands before a sun-drenched shelf at the back of the room.

“I’m home, Donnie…”

This room was one Donnie Nakajima secretly rented, but it contains no rare first editions or secret British Library documents.

Just ordinary books, lined up on ordinary shelves.

Only Yomiko knows about this place. Donnie had told her she was free to use it whenever she liked.

It was, in other words, a “secret library” just for the two of them.

Today, Yomiko had come straight here from the airport, before her next assignment.

“I brought you a souvenir.”

She pulled out Nenene’s On the Street Corner Where Cats Are from her suitcase,a pristine, brand-new copy.

“Sumiregawa-sensei’s latest! Oh, and I met her in person, you know, in Japan!”

She slid On the Street Corner Where Cats Are onto the shelf, alongside the other works by Nenene.

“Donnie, you always said, ‘She must be such a sensitive, quiet girl,’ didn’t you? Well, you were way off! She’s lively and active, much more together than I am!”

Of course, there’s no reply.

But the bookshelves seem to quietly accept and embrace Yomiko’s words, just as Donnie himself once did.

Donnie Nakajima,a British Library agent who lived his life in the shadows.

He has no grave. Not even a photograph remains.

But the books he loved are still here.

And the memories remain inside Yomiko.

He is one with the books, surrounding her still. Through her glasses, she shares in his feelings.

Yomiko realized something, standing there:

She was glad she loved books.

“…Sensei promised to write another good book for us. Let’s read it together, Donnie…”

She smiled gently, feeling his presence in that mountain of books.

I love books.

I love Donnie.

I love them both.

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