The main reading room was a cathedral of shelves, most of them toppled like dominoes. At the far end, beneath a stained-glass window depicting a phoenix that no longer caught the light, a single table had been set. Two chairs. A shogi board. And on the board, arranged in the starting position, every piece present except one.
She moved a silver general in her head. 27. Silver to 4c. Kaori Saejima -2021-
The rain had not stopped. It would not stop for three more days. The old prefectural library had been condemned in 2019—mold, structural decay, a stairwell that led nowhere. She knew because she had walked past it once, two years ago, on the anniversary of her mother's death. The gates were chained. The windows were boarded. A sign in faded red paint read: DANGER. KEEP OUT. The main reading room was a cathedral of
Behind the table stood a figure in a long coat, face obscured by a wide-brimmed hat. The figure did not move as Kaori approached. The only sound was the rain against the cracked window high above. A shogi board
The figure sat down. Gestured to the empty chair.
"You're not real," Kaori said. Her voice was a rasp she barely recognized. "I made you up."