Part 1: Chapter 1

PART 1: NIGHT OF DEMONS

CHAPTER 1

    After many days of rain, the sun finally showed its face one June morning. The muddy water collected in puddles on the street reflected its rays like little mirrors. Shirasagi Yumiko narrowed her eyes a little bit and gazed at the three-story school building, which shimmered a bit like a mirage, wrapped in the haze created by the vapor from the evaporating water on the ground.
    Shirasagi Yumiko.
    Her long, slender limbs made her image seem appropriate to her name, which meant "White Heron." Her inquisitive red-brown eyes--which reflected her keen intellect--and her well-shaped nose gave her all the qualities of a natural beauty. However, it could be argued that her propensity for mischief kept her from being as mature as an ordinary high school senior.
    Yumiko's transfer to this school had been quite sudden. Only two months earlier, her father, who had worked for a major electronics firm, had been transferred from the branch office in Sapporo to the main office in Tokyo. As the daughter of a salaryman, Yumiko had gotten used to frequent moves, but this was a bad time for a major change--next spring she would be taking her college entrance examinations. She had wanted to spend her last year of high school with the friends she had made, and it was hard to give that up. But after a lot of indecision and hard thought, the entire family had decided to move together, mostly on her mother's insistence that "it's too dangerous for either you or your father to live alone." But only two days after having transfered to Jusho High, Yumiko quickly started to regret giving in to her mother.
    "I don't like the mood here."
    Yumiko's admission test to the school had demonstrated that her abilities put her in the top tier of the "gifted" class. Her parents were quite relieved and happy at her scores, but Yumiko felt that this school had an unnatural coldness that she just could put her finger on. Her former school in Sapporo had also been quite a prestigious institution, but there was no sort of artificial separation between "gifted" and "general" classes, and the students there just seemed to be individually enjoying their life as high school students more.
    In stark contrast, the students of Jusho High had the air of old hermits who had altogether given up on life. The gifted class simply went through the curriculum like machines, as if being programmed to pass their college entrance exams. Even though the general class had its share bright and talented students, many of them had lost their will because of the way that they were passed over by the administration, in favor of the students in the gifted class. Everyone knew their place in the organization, and nobody attempted to break that mold.
    Come to think of it, she hadn't spoken a word yet, outside of her general introduction to the class. That alone was tough for Yumiko to stand, as she had never been the quiet type. However, she didn't feel any real hostility toward herself from the faculty or students. The entire class was eerily silent, as if being awkwardly suppressed by some sort of invisible force. During free periods, not a single one of Yumiko's classmates had said so much as a word to her.
    "If you're too popular right from the beginning, people will start to keep an eye on you, and you don't want that!" That was what her mother had laughingly said when Yumiko mentioned the issue to her and joke or not, the comment had hurt her pride.
    Inside the school courtyard, the opening bell rang.
    Drawing in a deep breath and summoning her will together, Yumiko slowly walked toward the school building.

    The first hour of the day was Classical Japanese class.
    The professor, Ohara, was quite a beauty. She wasn't wearing much in the way of makeup, probably due to work regulations, but her tall height, style, and face--which looked attractive even to the eyes of other women--was such so that she could probably easily make it as a model. But the dull, toneless voice in which she read the text, combined with the monotonous translate-classical-to-colloquial manner in which she conducted the class could hardly be said to be attractive, even as insincere flattery. Yumiko had been desperately suppressing yawns all class long.
    "In the Ise Monogatari, there is a tanka poem: 'In the Uzu Mountains of Suruga, I will not meet you in reality or in a dream.' In the past it has come up three times in Keio University's entrance exam, and also in Waseda University's exam, so you should memorize it..." Ignoring all cultural significance of the poem, Ohara started talking about entrance exams.
    So much for romance and mystique of the Ise Monogatari. Ariwara Narihira must be rolling over in his grave.
    Getting downright irritated by the class, and nearly on the brink of being overcome by drowsiness, Yumiko noticed a rythmical sound behind her, like that of a plastic sheet being tapped. Turning her head, she saw a handsome male student diagonally behind her to the right, typing on the keyboard of a handheld computer that sat atop his desk. She recalled his name as being Nakajima Akemi. Yumiko had been introduced to him along with all the other students the day before, but their names and faces had gotten all mixed up so she couldn't clearly remember everyone. But Nakajima's profile and name were both rather feminine, so his image had stuck in her head. Though he had completely ignored her when she had intially bowed her head in greeting.
    Well, he's pretty obviously ignoring class. He's got guts! For some reason, Yumiko felt some affinity for this particular classmate.
    It doesn't look like he's playing a game. Is he writing a program or something?
    As if taking a break, Nakajima stretched his back and looked up slightly. His almond eyes looked around, and unexpectedly his gaze met Yumiko's.

    After his successful test of the demon summoning program, it seemed as if Nakajima's nature had changed from the very roots. Or perhaps his true, formerly sealed-off demonic nature had been released and consumed the old Nakajama. Two months ago, his handsome face had only shown weakness, but now it emanated a powerful aura of pure ego. But what surprised Yumiko when their gaze met was not his powerful presence, but rather something else.
    Deja vu.
    I didn't realize it yesterday, but I think I've seen this guy somewhere before--like from a long time a go. Geez, I wonder why that is? A wave of emotion like awe coursed through Yumiko's body.
    Despite Yumiko's staring at him, Nakajima displayed no interest in her and returned to typing on his keyboard rythmically. As if staring into a deep ravine, Yumiko was struck with a strange sense of loss.
    "Ms. Shirasagi, what are you looking at?" Ohara's somewhat irritated voice pulled Yumiko back to reality. Looking up, she noticed the tanka poem written on the blackboard in white chalk had been annotated with red and yellow markings.
    "What does the 'utsutsu' in this tanka indicate? Explain." Yumiko felt the gaze of all the students in the class fall on her, as if testing her. The dull sound of Nakajima typing monotonously--and flagrantly--on the keyboard was the only sound in the room.
    "Yes, ma'am. It indicates the name of the place, Uzu, and the meaning of the word 'utsutsu' itself, which is 'reality.'" Yumiko's voice sounded slightly nervous. But Ohara's question was an extremely easy one, especially for someone like Yumiko, who was aiming to be a literary historian.
    "I see you've studied well, Ms. Shirasagi. But sometimes what I'm saying will come in handy too." Ohara's expression softened a bit with her sarcastic warning. The momentary tension in the classroom dispersed, and as if beeing pulled in by Ohara's smile, the male students all grinned. Yumiko got the sense that the entire class was mocking her.
    The class bell rang.
    "Excuse me, professor." Nakajima called out to the teacher, stopping her just as she was about to leave. Ohara turned around, her eyes clearly full of apprehension.
    Yumiko the unusual relationship between the two.
    The professor is afraid of Nakajima?
    "Professor, you're coming tonight like we planned, right?" Nakajima stayed seated at his desk, idly playing with the keys on his handheld computer.
    Ohara's face seemed to turn slightly red.
    "OK. I'll see you in the CAI room..." she replied delicately. Nakajima smiled, nodded, and waved to her.
    Gaping at the two in surprise, Nakajima's behavior seemed to Yumiko as if he was saying "Good girl, now go away." But this strange relationship between professor and student didn't seem to bother her classmates in the least, who indifferently prepared for their next class.
    Overcome with curiosity, Yumiko waited for Ohara to leave the classrom and walked over to Nakajima's desk.
    "Hey, Nakajima..." Yumiko spoke to him, not really sure of what she was going to say.
    Nakajima looked up at her dubiously. Being watched by those eyes full of a strange devilishness, Yumiko was struck once again by a strange sense of deja vu.
    I can't shake the feeling I've met you somewhere before. Why? While that was what Yumiko really wanted to ask, that kind of question would probably just confuse him. Yumiko struggled to try and figure out what to do with this new, strange sensation.
    "You know..." Nakajima opened his mouth and spoke as if teasing a small child.
    "I think you'd be better off staying away from me."
    "No, I..." With that response, Yumiko was unprepared with what to say next. At a seat further back, a stern and tough-looking male student's expression and hand movements signaled to Yumiko that she should probably leave Nakajima alone.
    The classroom bell rang. The physics teacher for the second hour of class had at some point entered the room and was already standing at the head of the class.
    You can go ahead and ignore me if you want. I want to know what's up with you, and it's my right to try and find out. Returning to her seat and enduring the thoughts and feelings welling up from the depths of her soul, Yumiko bit down on her lower lip with her well-shaped front teeth.