The Book of Heroes (2 page)

CHAPTER ONE

Something Important, Which Was Broken

It was a lazy,
warm spring afternoon, the kind that would make anyone sleepy.

Fifth period.
Pencil in hand?
Check.
Eyes open?
Check.
Awake?
Not really.

She was full of lunch, and besides, she hated science class.

“Yuri. Yuuuuri!” Kana whispered at her from the next seat over. Part of an eraser flew through the air and bounced off her desk.

“Your head’s swaying! He’s gonna see!”

Yuriko Morisaki sat up with a start. Mr. Katayama was in the middle of writing something on the blackboard, his back turned to the class. Yuriko hurriedly rubbed her eyes.

Kana held a hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh. Yuriko grinned at her. Their seats were in the middle of the classroom. She looked around behind her. At least half of her twenty-five classmates were either already asleep or soon would be.

Yuriko glanced at the clock hanging above the blackboard. Twenty minutes till class was over. She had to find some way to stay awake. She glanced down at her notebook. After the third line or so, her writing had become an almost illegible scrawl.
That must have been when I dozed off,
she thought.

“Share your notes later,” she whispered to Kana at the very same instant Mr. Katayama turned around. Pushing his glasses up with one finger, his gaze wandered across the room before coming to rest on Yuriko.

“Morisaki?”

Kana immediately looked down at her desk and began moving her pencil furiously.

“No talking during class.”

“Sorry, sir.”

Yuriko sank down in her chair.
What about the kids who are sleeping, sir? Don’t I get points just for being awake?
She hadn’t actually said anything, only thought it, but the defiance must have shown on her face. Mr. Katayama put down his chalk, wiped his whitened fingers together, and put one hand on his hip. “Are you aware that the average grade in this class on last week’s science test was the lowest of any fifth-grade class in the district?
In the district!
I know not everyone is fond of science, and I’m not asking you all to get one hundred percent, but still—”

This latest lecture had the effect of rousing several of the students from their naps. Yuriko hurriedly began tracing the garbled letters in her notebook with her pencil as though she might somehow be able to decipher them.

There was a light knock on the door at the front of the classroom. Mr. Katayama stepped away from the blackboard, a frown on his face. Yuriko busied herself with tracing letters, so she didn’t see who it was or what was being said. She looked up only when the door closed with a loud slam. Mr. Katayama was looking in her direction.

No, he’s looking right at me.
Or so she guessed. His eyes were hidden behind the light reflecting off his glasses.

“Ms. Morisaki,” he said, still standing by the door, his voice cracking strangely, “I want you to get your things and go home.”

All at once, every student (at least, every student who was awake) turned their eyes toward Yuriko. She could almost feel their gazes hitting her. Yuriko was not used to being the center of attention. Not because she was boring or didn’t stand out, but because she had cultivated a certain protective anonymity.

“Um, what?”

Yuriko looked around to see if anyone else understood what was going on.
What did he just say?

Mr. Katayama jerked into action like a windup toy that had just been released. He walked down the aisle between the desks toward hers. His motions seemed rigid and unnatural, like a robot’s.

He stopped by Yuriko’s desk and placed one hand on the desktop and another on her shoulder. “Your mother called. Something’s happened at home. You need to go now.”

Now the other students started whispering to each other. “Someone bought it, someone bought it
,”
she heard them say.
What does that mean, bought it?

Someone died
, Yuriko realized
.

Kana was staring at her, worried. But then, when the teacher went to the back of the room toward the student lockers, she stood up before Yuriko could say anything and shouted, “Mr. Katayama, I’ll help.”

Mr. Katayama had been just about to open Yuriko’s locker, but now he turned. A boy named Sato, who sat in front of her, also got up from his desk and went to stand by Yuriko. A few of the other students looked like they were going to get up too, so Mr. Katayama quickly returned to his desk at the head of the class and shouted loudly for everyone to sit down, his voice cracking.

Yuriko crammed her textbooks and notebook into her bag that Kana brought to her. Her face was flushed, but a cold chill had begun to spread through her chest.

Schoolbag under her arm, she went out into the hall. Mr. Katayama joined her. She was surprised to see her class’s head teacher Mrs. Kiuchi waiting outside. She looked relieved when she saw Yuriko come out.

“You’re all packed, great. Let’s go.”

Yuriko felt her teacher’s hand on her back. Mrs. Kiuchi was as old as Yuriko’s grandmother, fat and short, and sweaty as usual. She could feel the warmth of her hand through the back of her shirt.

“Thank you,” Mr. Katayama said, bowing as they left. He stood there in the doorway until Yuriko had gone down the hall and around the corner.

“Mrs. Kiuchi, what’s happened?” she asked as they walked. Her teacher was looking down at her feet. She was walking fast, so fast Yuriko had to trot just to keep up. Though she had her hand on Yuriko’s back the whole way, she hadn’t looked at her once.

“Don’t worry. Your parents are waiting for you.” Her voice sounded as stilted as Mr. Katayama’s had been. “Let’s just get you home quick.”

Someone bought it. Someone’s died.
The words she had heard in the classroom echoed in her head.
Who died? Dad? Mom? But didn’t Mrs. Kiuchi just say they were waiting for me—

If her escort so far had been a National League surprise, what was waiting for her outside was Olympic. A taxi was idling right outside the school gates, and the principal and head teacher were standing by the door.

“Miss Morisaki!” the principal called out. Yuriko wondered if he remembered the names of every student in school, even the ones who didn’t stand out. Ones like her. “Now, I don’t want you to worry. Mrs. Kiuchi will see you to your home, all right?”

Miss Morisaki. He called me Miss Morisaki.

Yuriko got into the taxi with her teacher. It wasn’t far to her house. She could walk the distance in ten minutes. It was crazy that they would call a taxi for that.

Yuriko’s home was on the fifth floor of a ten-story apartment building. The building had a name written on a placard out front: Angel Castle Ishijima. It was an unassuming place, built a decade ago of gray concrete and steel. Certainly nothing like where Yuriko would imagine an angel lived, and not much like a castle, either.

When she got out of the taxi, Mrs. Kiuchi took Yuriko by the hand.
Holding hands with my teacher?
That was even more unlikely than riding in a taxi with her.

“Mrs. Kiuchi?” Yuriko tried again, looking up at her. “What was the principal saying to you when we got into the taxi?” She had heard the principal say something like, “Maybe you can talk with them.”

Mrs. Kiuchi blanched. “Don’t worry, just school business.” Her smile looked like a jigsaw puzzle left leaning against a wall without a frame, ready to collapse at any moment.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about, Morisaki.”

Yuriko was in fifth grade. She might have been a child still, but she wasn’t an infant. Wasn’t she “standing at puberty’s doorstep” or some such? She remembered the principal telling them that in one of his talks to her class recently, so she was pretty sure it was true.
So why is everyone telling me there’s nothing to worry about, like I’m some kind of baby? What’s going on?

When the elevator doors opened, Yuriko shook off her teacher’s hand and ran down the hall to her apartment. The door was unlocked.

“Mom! I’m home!”

She ran inside, practically leaping out of her shoes. Her mother was coming out of the living room.

“Yuriko—”

Mom’s okay. She’s alive. She wasn’t the one who bought it.

Her mother ran to her and hugged her tight—Yuriko’s third surprise of the day. This was bigger than the Olympics.
What would that be? The Football World Cup?

“What’s going on, Mom?”

Her mother was shaking. Her face was pale, her eyes watery and red.

“I’m Kiuchi, head teacher for Yuriko’s class,” Mrs. Kiuchi introduced herself. Yuriko’s mother let go of her at last and welcomed her teacher.

“Thank you so much. I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here. I’m so sorry about all of this—”

Okay, first she thanked her, now she’s apologizing? I wish someone would tell me what’s going on!

“Have you heard anything more from the school?” Mrs. Kiuchi asked.

“No, nothing yet…”

A single tear dropped from her mother’s cheek. “They still haven’t found him.”

Haven’t found him? Found who? And why are they talking about my school?

None of it made any sense.

“What’s going on?” Yuriko asked her mother again. Her only answer was a fresh round of tears.

“Mrs. Morisaki, you’d better tell Yuriko what happened. I’ll answer the phone if it rings. I think it’d be better if you talked with her, just the two of you.” Mrs. Kiuchi smiled a crooked smile at Yuriko, the puzzle pieces finally coming apart and falling to the ground. “Why don’t you two go to her room?” She put a gentle hand on her mother’s shoulder, urging her on. Her mother grabbed Yuriko’s hand firmly and stood.

They left the living room and went directly into the room on the left. This was Yuriko’s room. A small stuffed bear hung on a loop around the doorknob.

And next to her room was—

My brother’s room.
Every morning when they left for school, he always made a point of closing his door firmly behind him. He was in eighth grade and had been making a big deal about his “privacy” lately.

His door was open. She could see his desk and chair inside. A jacket was hanging over the back of the chair.

Yuriko’s brother. Hiroki Morisaki. Age: fourteen.

Yuriko silently gasped.
They weren’t talking about hearing from
my
school, they were talking about hearing from
his
school!

They went into Yuriko’s room, and her mother quietly closed the door behind them. She motioned for Yuriko to sit at her desk, while she sat on the floor. She looked weak, like she might collapse on the spot.

Yuriko jumped out of her chair and grabbed her mother. “Mom, what happened to Hiroki?”

When she had heard something had happened at home, Yuriko hadn’t thought of Hiroki for a second. Her brother was one of the most self-assured, safety-minded people she knew. He got the best grades. He excelled at sports. They had picked him for the Little League team when he was only in first grade, and he was in regular rotation as a pitcher by fourth grade. Hiroki had joined the swim team in middle school—someone had told him swimming would make his pitching arm stronger—and was already breaking records.

The only thing she could imagine happening to him was some kind of accident.
Maybe a traffic accident, or a freak drowning at the pool.
Except it was too cold for the school to be still using the pool.
So it must have been a traffic accident. Maybe a car hit him.

“Mom? Did Hiroki get run over?”

Her mother grabbed Yuriko’s hands in her own. Her face was streaked with tears. She had been crying so hard she could barely keep her eyes open. She hiccuped. It made Yuriko feel like crying too. She didn’t think she had ever seen her mother look so stricken by grief. Or any adult, for that matter.

“Is…he dead?”

Her mother shook her head, her eyes still closed. Yuriko felt the fear that had been stabbing at her chest suddenly slip away. The echoing words in her head faded.
Whew. So he didn’t buy it.

Then why is Mom crying?

“Your brother—”

“Yeah?”

“At school, during recess…”

“Yeah?”

“He got into a fight with some friends.” Her mother’s voice was hoarse. “And…he hurt them.” She took a breath and hiccuped again. “The whole thing must have scared him, because he ran from the school. They don’t know where he is now. His teachers and some men from the local fire department are looking for him.”

Something else lifted off Yuriko’s chest. This time, she wasn’t sure what it was. She wasn’t even sure if it was something she had wanted to keep.

“Don’t worry,” her mother said, sobbing as she stroked Yuriko’s hair. “I’m sure they’ll find him soon. Once he’s back, we’ll go to his friends’ houses and apologize, all of us together. That will settle things.” She spoke gently, but her face betrayed her feelings. She didn’t think that would settle things at all, not really.

“Where’s Dad?”

Her dad and her brother got along famously. Recently, Hiroki had made a show of stepping out on his own to assert some independence from the family, but he was still his proud father’s son. “He must be really worried! Is he out looking for him with his teachers?”

Her mother nodded, then a fresh round of sobs erupted from somewhere deep inside her.

Her mom wasn’t lying, Yuriko was pretty sure about that. But she also wasn’t telling the whole truth. Finally, Yuriko found out what had happened that evening.

Hiroki Morisaki had taken a knife with him to school that day. Not a cooking knife from home. A long knife he had bought somewhere. Someone who saw it said the blade was almost fifteen centimeters.

Hiroki had stabbed two other boys in his class.

One in the stomach, the other in the neck.

The boy he’d got in the neck was dead even before the ambulance arrived.