In the end, Rintaro bid farewell to his grandfather in total silence. All he had left now was a concerned aunt . . . and a bookshop.
Natsuki Books was a tiny secondhand bookshop on the edge of town. The shop didn’t lose enough money to be considered a liability, nor did it make enough to be considered a fortune. It wasn’t much of an inheritance.
*
“Hey, Natsuki, you’ve got some great books here.”
The male voice came from behind Rintaro. He didn’t turn around.
“Really?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the bookshelves in front of him. The shelves ran from the floor all the way up to the ceiling; they were filled with an impressive number of books.
There was Shakespeare and Wordsworth, Dumas and Stendhal, Faulkner and Hemingway, Golding . . . too many to name. Some of the greatest masterpieces this world has seen—majestic, dignified tomes stared down at Rintaro. They were all seasoned secondhand books, but none of them too used or worn, no doubt thanks to his grandfather’s loving care.
By Rintaro’s feet, the similarly seasoned paraffin heater glowed orange, but despite its best efforts, the shop was drafty. Still, Rintaro knew it wasn’t only the temperature that was making him feel chilly.
“So how much for these two together?”
Rintaro turned his head and squinted at the books being held out to him.
“Thirty-two hundred yen,” he said quietly.
“Your memory’s as sharp as ever.”
The customer was a boy from the same high school, one year ahead of Rintaro, by the name of Ryota Akiba. He was tall and slim with a cheerful expression, and a calm, self-assured air about him that was quite likable. Along with his strong physique, built up by years of basketball training, he had one of the best brains in his year. In addition, he was the son of the local doctor. This was a boy who had a huge number of extracurricular activities—in other words, he was the exact opposite of Rintaro in every way.
“And these are a bargain.”
With that, Akiba began to pile five or six more books next to the register on the desk. Mr. Jack-of-All-Trades was a surprisingly avid reader, and one of Natsuki Books’s regular customers.
“You know, this is a really great shop.”
“Thank you. Please take your time looking around. It’s our closing sale.”
It was hard to tell from Rintaro’s flat tone if he was serious.
Akiba fell silent for a moment.
“It must have been awful for you,” he began cautiously, “losing your grandfather.”
Akiba swiftly returned his attention to a nearby bookcase and pretended to scour the shelves.
“Seems like just yesterday he was sitting there reading,” he continued, casually. “It was so sudden.”
“Yes, I feel the same way.”
Rintaro sounded as if he was just trying to be polite; even if he did feel the same way, there was no hint of friendliness or sociability in his voice. Akiba didn’t seem particularly bothered. He turned to look at the younger boy, who was still staring at the bookshelves.
“But as soon as he passed away, you stopped coming to school. That’s not cool. Everyone’s worried about you.”
“Who’s ‘everyone’？ I can’t think of a single person who would be worried about me.”
“Oh right, you don’t have any friends. Must make life simple. But seriously, your grandpa must be worried sick about you. You’ve probably got him so anxious, his ghost’s still wandering around. How’s he supposed to rest in peace? Your grandpa’s too old to get this much grief.”