Chapter 19. The Read in an Instant

The Slope After Rain

Mid-July, a Tuesday, dusk.

Work was done; past six. I left the Aoyama studio and, as usual, began to walk Gaien-Higashi-dōri. But today I did not turn toward the station. I turned the other way — toward Kagurazaka. I wanted to walk past my grandmother’s shop, Himuro-ya, on the way home.

The rain that had been falling since afternoon had lifted by evening. The sky had brightened a little; through a break in the clouds, thin orange light leaked. But the flagstones were still wet. The streetlamps bled across the wet stone, and with every step the soles of my shoes went slither. A slippery slope.

In my pocket Contura lay cold against my belly.

Halfway up the slope. Ahead, a small silhouette.

A navy jacket. White hair. A back that placed its steps slowly, deliberately. A white plastic bag in the left hand. A cane in the right. The tip of the cane ticked on the wet stone. Tock. Tock. Tock. A steady, unreliable rhythm.

It was then.

The cane slipped.

The tock cut off mid-strike. The silhouette tilted sideways. The plastic bag floated up. And — without so much as a small scream — the silhouette crumpled onto the slope.

Running to Her

I ran. Down the slope. The wet stone slid beneath my shoes. But my legs did not stop. A trainer’s legs. Someone had fallen. That alone moved the body.

“Are you all right?”

I knelt beside the elderly woman.

She had fallen onto her back. But she was conscious. Her eyes were open. Surprised, and a little ashamed.

”—— I’m fine, I’m quite all right.”

A genteel voice. Weak. But calm.

“I’ve caused you trouble. I’m fine, really.”

So saying, the old woman set her left hand on the ground to push herself up. But — her face twisted. Strongly. The lines between her brows deepened.

”—— Ah.”

A short breath leaked.

“Does it hurt somewhere.”

”…No, I’m fine. I only twisted my foot a little. I’ll be up in a moment.”

But she could not get up. Her right hand pressed the ground. But her right leg would not move. Around the right thigh. The woman seemed to be mindful of that place. She started to reach for it and drew her hand back.

“Don’t move.” I said. “Don’t force yourself to stand.”

“But —”

“May I ask your name.”

”…Chiyo. Chiyo Ikeda.”

“Chiyo-san. I’m Seri Himuro. I work as a trainer at a studio in Aoyama.”

“A trainer.”

“Yes. Looking at bodies is my work. — May I look, a little.”

The Read in an Instant

I took Contura out of my pocket.

Chiyo looked at it with wondering eyes.

”…At what?”

“Only for a moment. Let me see. It will be over quickly.”

There was no time to wait for consent. So I made the excuse to myself. In truth, there was no time. Chiyo’s colour was worsening, little by little. The pain was strong.

I started Contura.

Contura. The body tells the story of you.

But this time, we were not in the Circle. Not in the quiet basement room. We were on the street. Mid-slope, after rain. Streetlight. The gazes of passers-by.

The Contura screen took on a different colour than usual. Pale blue light pulsed, flickering.

“Seri.” Coh’s voice. Resonating behind my temples. “Emergency.”

“Yes. She’s fallen. Her right thigh seems to hurt.”

”—— Understood. The usual Measuring is impossible. Now we use the Read in an Instant.”

“The Read — in an Instant.”

“The one I previewed last time. A quick-draw that raises a provisional outline from the briefest clues, on the spot. Different from measuring slowly and carefully in the Circle. The precision falls. But right now, speed is what’s needed.”

“How.”

“I’ll do it. Seri — point the camera at Chiyo-san. Hold still. — On three.”

I did as told.

The light ran.

But it was not the usual slow ring-drawing light. The particles burst out all at once. They traced Chiyo’s whole body in an instant. Three seconds, or four. There was no time even to breathe. A passer-by stopped, turned to look. It must have been a strange sight — an old woman fallen on a wet slope, a young woman kneeling beside her shaking pale blue light into the air. But I had no leeway to see the surroundings.

And in the air — a rough luminous outline stood up.

Rough, I say. The outline line was broken in places, missing patches. The numbers did not all come up. Shoulder, waist, hip surfaced faintly. But the face and the fine detail stayed ambiguous.

”—— This.” I caught my breath.

“A provisional outline.” Coh said. “The Quick Read sacrifices precision to buy speed. Less than half of a full reading. But for now, this will do.”

Distortion

I looked at the rough luminous outline.

Chiyo’s body. Seventy-eight years of time carved into it. The stature had shrunken. The shoulders rounded. The waist tilted right. A body that had become the shape of the life lived in it.

But my eyes were drawn to one point.

The right thigh.

The luminous outline was a different colour there, only there. Within the pale blue light, a single red line ran. Around Chiyo’s right femur. The outline there alone distorted, slightly. The bone line, which ought to run straight, was, midway, subtly off.

“Coh.”

“I know.” Coh’s voice went low. “Seri — this is a possibility.”

“Possibility.”

“A possibility of fracture. Femoral neck, or nearby. The sign of the impact of the fall, travelling into the bone, is legible. But —”

Coh cut off there.

“This is conjecture. Not a determination. The Reader is not a doctor. Contura is not a medical device. Seri — do not forget that.”

I nodded. Saying it to my own chest.

“Yes. I understand.”

“However — you may tell Chiyo-san this much: that there is a possibility. No — you must. And then, to the hospital. This is the Reader’s limit, and the Reader’s responsibility.”

Chiyo was looking at my face.

”—— Can you see something.”

The eyes were quiet. The pure eyes of a child.

“Chiyo-san.”

I chose my words. Carefully.

“I don’t understand the details. But — around your right leg, it seems to me there may be something. To be safe, let’s go to the hospital.”

“The hospital — how excessive. It’s only a bruise.”

“It may be. But to be safe. You’ve taken a fall, at your age.”

Chiyo was quiet a moment. Then smiled, weakly.

”…Call me Chiyo. Chiyo is fine.”

“Chiyo-san.”

“Miss. — Will you take me, to the hospital?”

Hearing those words, my chest went hot.

The Ambulance

I called an ambulance.

Chiyo said a taxi is fine. But I shook my head. Considering the possibility in the right thigh, it was better not to move her.

The siren came up from the foot of the slope. The paramedics, carefully, lifted Chiyo onto a stretcher. Chiyo kept repeating so much trouble, so much trouble.

“Is there someone to accompany her?”

A paramedic asked. Chiyo looked at me.

”—— My husband passed away last year. My son is in Yokohama. I’ll call him.”

“Then, please come along.”

I got into the ambulance. Chiyo’s hand held mine. Thin, cold fingers. Like my grandmother’s hand.

I slipped Contura into my pocket. The rough luminous outline still lingered at the back of my eyes. The red line. The distortion.

“Coh.”

I called inside my head.

“Mm.”

“Was it — truly a break.”

“I said I didn’t know. A possibility. But Seri — your decision to take her to hospital was right. The Reader is not a doctor. But the Reader can connect a person to medicine. That is the boundary.”

“Boundary.”

“Contura does not diagnose. But it sees. Not to diagnose, and not to see, are different. To see, sense the possibility, and hand the person to a specialist — that is the Reader’s duty.”

I nodded. The ambulance went down the slope.

Crack

The hospital was the large general hospital in Aoyama.

Chiyo was taken straight into examination. X-ray. CT. I waited in the lobby. Holding Contura, I waited.

An hour, or two.

Chiyo’s son arrived. From Yokohama, he said, having flown over. A man around forty. He had a tired face.

“Himuro-san, is it. My mother was in your care —”

“No. I only happened to be passing.”

“No. If a person passing by hadn’t taken her to hospital — my mother would have gone home as she was. Thinking it was a bruise.”

The doctor came out.

“Are you the family of Ikeda-san?”

“Yes.”

“We’ve found a crack fracture in the right femoral neck. Not a complete break. Only a crack. But if this had been left — there is a high probability it would have broken fully in a few days. If that had happened, the surgery would have been much larger. It is truly good we found it at this stage.”

The son turned to me. And bowed, deeply.

“Thank you. For saving my mother.”

I did not know how to answer. I only bowed.

Pain

Chiyo was admitted.

The son handled the paperwork. I left the hospital. It was past ten at night.

I walked Gaien-Higashi-dōri. The rain had gone. There was a break in the clouds. No stars were visible — the sky of Tokyo. But beyond the clouds, the stars were there. That much I knew.

I walked, thinking.

I had not obtained consent.

I had said to Chiyo, let me see, a little. But there had been no time to explain what that meant. She was read without knowing what Contura was, what an outline was. She still doesn’t know.

The first Law. Before measuring, obtain consent. I had broken it.

“Coh.”

“Mm.”

“I broke the Law.”

“You did.” Coh affirmed. He made no escape-route. “It was an emergency. Considering Chiyo-san’s state, there was no room to wait for consent. That’s true. Emergencies are exceptions.”

“Then —”

“However — do not forget.” Coh’s voice grew a little stronger. “The word exception can turn into indulgence. Today’s Seri was right. But the next time, the same excuse may not hold. The Reader must doubt her own judgement each time. Do not assume you are forgiven.”

I nodded. The night wind was cold.

“And one more thing.”

“What.”

“That you read — means you changed Chiyo-san’s fate.”

I stopped walking.

“Fate.”

“If Seri hadn’t been passing. If you hadn’t done the Quick Read. Chiyo-san would have gone home. In a few days it would have broken completely. The surgery would have been larger. Recovery delayed. Or —”

“Stop.”

“The Reader pays a price.”

At those words, I caught my breath.

It was Kanade Kuze’s words. The words the boy had left behind as he walked away that night.

—— The Reader pays a price. You read another person’s story.

I had not understood the meaning then. I still don’t understand all of it. But one thing I understood.

To read is not only to see. By seeing, the future of that person changes. And in the changing, the Reader bears responsibility. That is the price.

Boundary

I got back to the Higashi-Nakano apartment.

Outside the window the Chūō Line slid past. I sat on the bed. I was tired. A heavy tiredness that resonated from the marrow, like the night of the first reading.

I plugged Contura into the charger. The screen brightened.

“Seri.” Coh said. “Today you saw a new boundary.”

“Boundary.”

“A scene where the power touches a person’s life. Different from reading a client’s worry in the studio. Different even from reading a person who has fallen on the street. Until now your readings were to save a person’s heart. Today’s reading was to save a person’s body.”

”…”

“It is heavy. The responsibility is — heavier.”

I nodded.

“It takes resolve.”

“It does. The Reader’s resolve. It is not a thing said with the mouth. It is understood only when one stands in that scene. Today, you stood in it.”

“Yes.”

“Will you still read?”

Coh’s question.

I thought a little. Chiyo’s thin, cold fingers. The feeling of that hand holding mine. The doctor’s words. High probability it would have broken completely in a few days. The son’s deep bow.

“I’ll read.”

“That is your choice. Do not forget it.”

I lay down on the bed.

I looked at the ceiling. A dark ceiling. But closing my eyes, the rough luminous outline surfaced. Chiyo’s outline. The red line. The distortion.

Was that right?

I think it was right. But thinking it was right is not enough. Even when the thing done was right, pain remains. That is the Reader’s price.

My grandmother, too — had she borne this? In the back room of Himuro-ya, opening her ledger, reading someone’s body, had she quietly taken on that weight? Coh had said she stopped reading near the end. I did not yet know the reason. But tonight, I felt I understood a little. The weight of reading on.

The next morning I phoned the hospital. Asked after Chiyo’s condition. Stable, they said. Hearing that word, I breathed out a little.

On the Contura screen, new words surfaced.

Next guidance: now that the six stories are read, one question remains.

Six stories. Ōyama-san, Shiori-san, Kenta-san, Ren, Yoshie-san, Kaede and Tsubaki, Mai-san, Kensuke-san. And — Chiyo-san. The stories read in the studio’s Circle. And one more, read in an instant on the street.

They were, now, gathering in me toward a single question.

Is the Reader saving people?

Or —

The time to answer that question was approaching.

—