Our Last Summer and the Astronaut Bones

1

The self-proclaimed rebel's hand turned the dull-colored key, and the steel door slowly opened.

What appeared before them was the school rooftop enveloped in darkness.

Cracks ran through the concrete beneath their feet, with weeds peeking out from various gaps. Looking up, a deep green mesh fence blocked their path, beyond which stretched a starry sky and the scenery of a lackluster rural town.

We had reached the rooftop, a place I had never set foot since entering high school.

A place where high school students in fiction meet, clash, deepen their bonds, sing, and film 8mm movies—yet in reality, an inaccessible place where phantom youth experiences occur.

This really feels like the rooftop.

I called out to the rebel walking a step ahead of me as I approached the fence.

This guy, a few centimeters taller than me, was named Souta Tsutsumi. A friend since elementary school, he was now in the class next to mine as a high school senior. Today, Souta had appeared in my buzzing classroom after lessons ended.

Voilà.

He'd said it playfully in French that he'd apparently learned recently. He showed me the key he was gripping tightly: the rooftop key, which he claimed to have swapped with a dummy in the faculty room.

And so I was invited to participate in this small act of rebellion.

We executed our plan at night. Meeting up after cram school, we snuck into the now-empty high school.

It's just as I thought. This rooftop, exactly as I imagined, is being quietly forgotten.

Souta gripped the fence with both hands and shook his annoying curly head as he turned to look at me.

His eyes gleamed behind his black-rimmed glasses.

It's symbolism. Symbolism.

The school rooftop is a symbol of lost youth—

That had been his sales pitch.

Summer vacation starts next weekend. In our final summer of high school, shouldn't we put up a little resistance? Let's carve this symbol of our lost youth firmly into our memories. I, as a rebel, will be your guide.

His theatrical way of speaking was nothing new.

Souta has always been eccentric, but there's a hint about him that that he aspires to be the brilliant detective type. Even his choice of first-person pronoun boku—he doesn't use the gentle-sounding version with a raised "bo," but rather the flat, industry-standard pronunciation that sounds so affected. I've never asked him about his true intentions, but he's probably just trying to seem intellectual.

And so I went along with Souta's obviously pretentious invitation.

I agreed because I thought we could make a small memory with relatively little risk.

In fact, now that we were up on the rooftop, it felt pretty good. Regardless of all that talk about lost youth and rebellion, it wasn't half bad in terms of adding some excitement to my otherwise dull daily life.

In the end, our high school life amounted to nothing . . .

Souta announced gravely, his fingers still entwined in the fence.

He was about to launch into some emotional speech about lost youth. Not feeling quite as worked up as him, I countered with a more level-headed perspective.

Nothing is an exaggeration. Online classes are over, and the cultural festival is coming back this year.

Just over three years had passed since the state of emergency declaration in April 2020.

High school life in July 2023 was gradually returning to something resembling its original form.

But you still feel unfulfilled, don't you? You feel like something's missing. That's why you went along with my invitation.

Well . . . I guess there is some truth to that.

See? Our youth was stolen from us! That's why we have to take it back ourselves! This is how resistance begins . . .

Fully in theatrical mode, Souta gazed beyond the fence with distant eyes and delivered his line with dramatic flair. Then, suddenly, he turned to look at me with a startled expression.

Come to think of it, it was just like this back then too.

Which time?

When we were in seventh grade and snuck into the Abandoned School together? Despite being such a quintessential "Abandoned School," we were disappointed by its B-grade lack of even a single ghost story, so we took matters into our own hands.

Mikomae City, often described as "barely within Tokyo," is frankly the middle of nowhere. While the areas around the station and schools are reasonably developed, once you go a certain distance from the center, the landscape abruptly transforms into nothing but fields. Perhaps because this dividing line is so unnaturally distinct, the town has an artificial quality about it, like a painted backdrop.

Among the few claims to fame here is the Abandoned School of our Mikomae High School. You'd think an "Abandoned School" would be on the same grounds or nearby, but it actually takes about fifteen minutes by bicycle to reach it from here. Surrounded by fields and forests, the place has a certain charm with its historically rich wooden architecture built in the early 1920s, and it's often used for filming dramas and movies. The building would have been demolished long ago if not for its demand as a filming location, allowing it to survive through several renovation projects.

An old wooden schoolhouse standing quietly at the edge of town—hearing this description raises expectations, but it's ultimately just a businesslike venue with absolutely no stories of ghosts or things like the Seven School Mysteries. Dissatisfied with this situation, we staged a small act of rebellion when we were in seventh grade. If there weren't enough ghost stories, we'd make our own—with this ridiculous logic, the four of us who were close friends at the time fabricated a cursed talisman and secretly planted it in the Abandoned School.

Riku.

I looked up at the sound of my name to find Souta staring beyond the fence again. The townscape in the distance transitions into rural scenery at a clear dividing line. Fields and mountains as far as the eye can see. As I wondered what Souta could possibly be looking at amid such scenery, it hit me. Souta's gaze was fixed on the Abandoned School.

Then I realized what Souta must be thinking about.

Back then, what we planted.

Want to go check if the cursed talisman is still there?

I knew you were going to say that. But it's been five years already, right? No way it's still there.

Word is that the Abandoned School, which has survived this long, is finally going to be demolished during summer vacation. If we're going to check it out, this is our last chance, isn't it? Come on, it'll be part of our little rebellion.

Souta never backs down in situations like this. Was it my misfortune to have so easily gone along with sneaking onto the rooftop? I resigned myself, nodded, and thought, well, why not. But somewhere in my heart, I was actually a little excited by the hint of adventure.

2

We exited through the same back gate we'd snuck in through and headed toward the Abandoned School on our bicycles. Beyond the residential and commercial area surrounding the school lay the other face of this town—Mikomae covered in fields and farmland.

But something unexpected happened near that boundary.

In front of a large supermarket's vast parking lot, the store had closed, and with the lights off, the area was dark. There, we spotted what appeared to be a female student from Mikomae High School. Dressed in her uniform, she was leaning against a pillar of a large sign bearing the supermarket's logo, staring at her smartphone. Next to her stood a familiar red bicycle.

Saki!

Souta called out and stopped his bicycle in front of her.

As we got closer, we could see it was indeed Saki Hayasaka.

She had medium-length black hair and bangs hanging down to her eyebrows. Perhaps due to her almond-shaped eyes, or maybe because of her small frame, she reminds me of a cat, personally speaking. Not unusual in this area where high school options are limited, she was also a friend from elementary school, just like Souta. Now that we're not as close as we were in elementary and middle school, there's an awkward distance between us, precisely because we used to be such good friends.

Saki looked up from her phone and eyed us as we suddenly appeared with a puzzled expression.

Huh? What are you two doing here?

We've run into you at just the perfect moment!

Souta announced cheerfully, then turned back to look at me.

Behind his glasses, his eyes lit up with that suspicious gleam once again.

Why are you looking at me?

Let's invite Saki too! This must be fate!

Wait, what are you suddenly . . .

Think about it! Could this possibly be a coincidence? Saki was there back then, when we—

Um, I have no idea what you guys are talking about.

Saki tilted her head and stepped between us.

She furrowed her brows, clearly suspicious.

What do you mean by fate?

She'd just posed an incredibly profound question.

What is fate? Of all people, this wasn't something I felt comfortable discussing casually in front of her. I was awkwardly self-conscious and felt pathetic for being unable to respond properly when Souta, practically oozing self-confidence, eagerly jumped in with an explanation.

Riku and I are going to the Abandoned School! Remember back in seventh grade when the four of us went to plant that cursed talisman? We're going to check if it's still there!

Oh. The cursed talisman . . . That's quite the nostalgic topic you've brought up.

Her reaction was lukewarm, as if thinking, Oh right, that happened.

She might have thought we were being childish.

Souta's just getting excited on his own.

I said, trying to smooth things over.

You don't need to come along if you don't want to. You probably have plans anyway.

She had been standing in this deserted parking lot late at night. She must have been waiting to meet someone. I was trying to be considerate, but Souta paid no mind and asked anyway.

Speaking of which, Saki, what are you doing in a place like this?

Well . . .

She glanced briefly at the smartphone in her hand, then tucked it into her skirt pocket.

I was called by a friend, like a meetup kind of thing.

Could it be something that won't take long? Meeting at a supermarket parking lot means you're not going anywhere after this, right? Like just dropping something off?

Seemingly determined to involve Saki, Souta pressed on with his baseless deductions.

Perhaps sensing that he wouldn't back down even if she tried to dodge the question, she sighed in resignation.

. . . To tell you the truth, I just got stood up, so my business here is already finished.

Great! Then you'll join us, right?

She froze for about two seconds, then looked over at me.

She might have thought that talking further with Souta would get her nowhere.

The cursed talisman, we made that in seventh grade, right? So that was . . . five years ago? Realistically speaking, I don't think it would still be there.

I told him the same thing. You know how he is . . . once he gets something in his head, he won't listen.

I replied with a wry smile, and Saki just kept staring at me silently.

Her gaze made my heart skip a beat.

She had a puzzled expression, but she didn't seem to be rejecting the idea.

The cursed talisman is just a pretext, really.

I suddenly realized I was trying to convince Saki to join us. Just moments ago I'd told her she didn't need to come along, and now I'd completely flipped my position.

It was probably because of the way she was looking at me—that nostalgic feeling had shaken something in me as I tried to play the role of the sensible one. I wanted to offer her something more than just a bland response, something a little more special.

So I continued speaking, fully aware of my own awkwardness.

They say the Abandoned School will be demolished soon, so think of it as a last chance to see it . . . what do you think? We're missing one person, but sneaking in again with most of the old crew might be pretty cool, right?

Regretting my words immediately after speaking them was nothing new.

While waiting for her answer, embarrassment squirmed and crawled around inside me.

Then she let her puzzled expression melt away and suddenly smiled.

It might be pretty cool, actually.

And with that, we left the supermarket parking lot with our new member in tow.

Three out of the four friends who'd planted the cursed talisman in the Abandoned School were now together. It was a remarkable coincidence, and I could understand why Souta wanted to use the word fate.

But I couldn't help being conscious of the cruelty that word harbored.

What do you mean by fate?

That question she'd asked kept racing around in my head.

Simply put, I might hate that word.

That unfathomable concept that had both bound us together and torn us apart.

3

Eventually, we reached the wooden two-story schoolhouse with its triangular roof.

Surrounded by trees, it was enveloped in darkness even deeper than the path we'd taken to get there.

We got off our bicycles and approached the Abandoned School, lighting our way with our smartphones' flashlight functions. In the center of the front of the building was an entrance with shoe lockers. By today's standards it seemed small, but it must have had six classrooms total, plus four or five other rooms like the staff room and music room.

It hasn't changed at all.

Following behind Souta, I offered this simple observation.

Back when we were in seventh grade, we also walked huddled together in this darkness.

Of course it hasn't.

What's expected of the Abandoned School as a filming location is to remain unchanged. It's a school frozen in time.

A place without time . . .

Saki's voice, responding softly, came from right beside me.

That closeness, too, filled me with nostalgia.

Since the main entrance was tightly secured with imposing padlocks and chains, we went around to the back of the building. One of the hallway windows had a broken lock. It was well-known among some students that you could break in through there, and we managed to slip inside successfully.

Inside the Abandoned School, the floorboards creaked with a high-pitched sound with every step we took.

Light from our raised smartphones stretched out, cutting three slices through the darkness ahead. The wooden interior that emerged in the glow gave me a strange sense of nostalgia. It wasn't because we were visiting after so long, but a kind of collective nostalgia for the Showa era culture that none of us had even been born into.

Windows lined the right side of the hallway facing outside, while windows looking into classrooms lined the left. Probably because it had been used as a filming location until recently, there was hardly any damage to the glass, walls, or floorboards. The only traces of intruders were some stupid graffiti on a few of the blackboards.

Where did we put that talisman again?

I spoke in a hushed voice.

There was no need to be quiet, but caught up in the atmosphere, I found myself lowering my voice anyway.

Hey. You've got to be kidding, Riku.

Souta, who was walking ahead, turned back without stopping and pointed his phone's light in my direction.

I squinted against the brightness.

We planted the cursed talisman in the Storage Room under the stairs. Don't you remember? We all agreed it would be scarier if it was somewhere hard to find.

Oh, now that you mention it, I guess that's right . . . ?

What's with that response? At this rate, I bet you don't remember the Words of Malediction at all.

Words of Malediction . . .

Saki repeated, her eyes darting around as if searching her memory.

Oh, I think I remember something. We all contributed sinister-looking kanji characters, combined them randomly, and made up something that sounded like a curse . . . right?

That's it, Saki! You're so much better than heartless Riku, here!

Maybe he wanted to liven up this reunion after so long—he seemed unusually harsh toward me.

Well, if it would help us get back to how we used to be, I didn't mind being the punching bag.

Ah, wait a second.

Just then, I suddenly remembered something.

Didn't we all pick out the paper for the talisman together? We were so excited about getting the color and material right to make it look authentic. And if I remember correctly . . . we had Kanoko do the calligraphy since she was the best at it among us.

Oh-ho. So your memory is coming back after all.

Souta nodded with satisfaction and threw out another question.

Then here's a question for both of you. What was the exact content of the Words of Malediction?

Well . . .

I tilted my head and tried my best to search through my memory. I vaguely recalled that the character for koku was included—something we'd associated with the ox-hour curse ritual—but I couldn't remember anything beyond that.

Saki seemed to be in a similar situation, answering as if she'd squeezed out whatever fragments she could remember.

Hajou . . . Meisetsu? I don't remember the kanji, but wasn't it something that sounded like that?

Wait, are you saying you actually remember it, Souta?

I shot back at him.

Well, actually, I only remember that much too. Hajou-something . . . hum-hum-Bokusotsu . . . or whatever. It had that sort of vibe, I'm sure.

Come on, you don't remember it either!

That's exactly why!

Souta raised his voice and came to a stop.

He changed the direction of his raised smartphone, pointing its light somewhere ahead.

Let's check if we're right.

The light illuminated the area under the stairs. It was the door to the Storage Room.

The door was equipped with a bolt-style lock. However, there was nothing securing the part that should have had a padlock, meaning anyone could open it.

Here we go.

Souta slid the T-shaped component to unlock it and slowly opened the door. His movements perfectly matched the expression. Cautiously, he stuck his head into the gap, quickly pulled back, then looked inside again while holding up his smartphone.

A few seconds of silence followed.

Perhaps because we were surrounded by darkness, the silence felt unusually long.

Is the talisman still there?

I asked impatiently.

Well, how should I put this . . .

Souta announced in a flat voice.

Something definitely seemed off about him.

Hey Souta, what's in there—

An astronaut.

What?

Souta closed the Storage Room door, turned to face us, and repeated himself.

It's an astronaut.

No, I mean . . .

I changed the direction of my light to examine Souta's condition. His face gave off something distinctly abnormal, as if he'd been so bewildered that he'd lost all emotion.

Behind his black-rimmed glasses, his eyes were darting back and forth.

And then Souta said something completely incomprehensible.

There's a dead astronaut in the Storage Room!

4

That feeling of anxiety when you encounter something unimaginable that crosses a line you never thought would be crossed.

My heart pounded so hard it disrupted my thoughts.

It was utterly unbelievable, but Souta's words meant exactly what they said.

An astronaut was sitting on the floor of the Storage Room, which was only about the size of two tatami mats.

The cleaning supplies that had presumably been in the center originally were now stacked at the edges, and the cursed talisman—our original objective—was gone. In its place was a corpse wearing a thick white suit with a massive Backpack Unit, legs stretched out and back resting against the wall.

The suit's design resembled those seen in famous photographs taken on the moon—the quintessential image that comes to mind when you hear the word astronaut. I could tell it was definitely a corpse because the face visible through the helmet's shield was, without question, no longer alive.

Bones . . . ?

Saki, who was peering into the Storage Room beside me, muttered under her breath.

Yes. The face behind the helmet had completely become a skeleton.

It was a slightly brownish skull that looked like something from an illustration.

It's bones . . . an astronaut's bones.

I was trying to act calm, but inside I was in complete turmoil.

Perhaps the one small mercy was that we didn't have to see the corpse's skin. The skull behind the helmet had lost most of its vivid human qualities, which made it possible to look at directly. Even so, there was something there—a weight of time suggesting it had once been alive—a supernatural presence that defied description.

There was an astronaut's corpse in the Storage Room of the Abandoned School that was scheduled for demolition.

Why? Then suddenly, a possibility crossed my mind.

I turned around thinking it couldn't be, and met Souta's eyes as he stared at me in shock. My gaze accused him—This isn't some prank you set up, is it?

Souta shook his head slightly and spoke with a bewildered expression.

Let's organize our thoughts first.

From what I could tell, Souta seemed genuinely shocked. I'd wondered if his usual theatrical tendencies had gone too far and he'd set up some nasty prank, but that didn't appear to be the case.

As far as we were concerned, the course of action was obvious.

Organize what? It's a corpse, so we should report it to the police . . . wait, I guess it might not be real.

That's right. There's no way an astronaut's corpse could be in a place like this, so assuming it's real would be a mistake. No matter how strange its presence felt, it had to be an elaborate fake.

It must be fake.

I said this partly to convince myself.

Look, we created that cursed talisman too, remember? This is just like a much more elaborate version of that.

No, but . . . doesn't it look incredibly real?

It's definitely well-made. But there's no way it's real, right? Astronauts don't just die in Storage Rooms.

Oh . . . could it be a movie prop or something?

That was Saki's observation. Though she looked confused, she was trying to view the situation rationally. Or perhaps she was desperately maintaining her composure by doing so.

That's it!

I chimed in in agreement.

This place is used for all kinds of filming. Maybe there was some mix-up and a prop got left behind.

But an astronaut? A Sci-fi movie in a retro wooden schoolhouse?

That depends on the story. It's not impossible.

What kind of story would that be?

I don't know! But doesn't it make more sense to think it's a prop?

For some reason, Souta refused to back down, almost as if he wanted the astronaut to be real.

Saki was watching him with a grave expression. She gave the impression of someone wavering, unable to decide how to interpret this situation or what would be the realistic way to view it.

Still, whether the corpse was real or fake, the conclusion remained the same.

Either way, all we need to do is report it. This isn't something for us to handle.

If we report it, our trespassing will be discovered. That could affect our college admission evaluations.

We can just make an anonymous call.

Hmm . . . that's true.

Souta twisted his lips in dissatisfaction.

I didn't understand what he was so fixated on, but he apparently didn't like the idea of leaving it to the police either.

Then Souta's expression hardened as if he had made up his mind.

Then how about looking at it this way?

He spread both hands dramatically, his voice taking on a theatrical intensity.

The initial shock and confusion had faded, and it seemed his theatrical mode had switched on.

The smartphone gripped in his left hand cast a beam of light, illuminating some random direction.

The Abandoned School is going to be demolished during summer vacation. Even if we don't report it right away, this corpse will be discovered during the demolition preparations anyway. Don't you agree?

I guess that's true.

Then! In the meantime, let's investigate the mystery of the astronaut ourselves!

Why would we do that?

Have you forgotten? Our youth was stolen from us!

That again . . .

I can tell! Riku, you must feel the same way!

His passionate voice echoed through the hallway of the Abandoned School.

It should have been just another of his ridiculous theatrics—and yet there was something irresistible about it. Perhaps due to his talent for dramatics, my heart wavered slightly. I found myself drawn to the mysterious astronaut's skeletal remains.

And then Souta continued his eloquent speech.

Our final summer of high school will never come again! The astronaut's skeletal remains discovered in an Abandoned School on the verge of demolition! An opportunity like this won't come around twice in a lifetime! Let's dedicate our summer, our stolen youth, to solving this mystery!

Overwhelmed by his compelling speech, I couldn't open my mouth for a few seconds. But after those seconds passed, the sight of Souta standing there with his arms spread suddenly seemed ridiculous.

I burst out laughing, and Saki let out a sound at the same time.

We exchanged glances.

We laughed together.

At times like this, absurdity helps clear your head.

This feels nostalgic.

Come to think of it, Souta was always like this, wasn't he?

Fine, you win.

I looked at Souta, resigned.

In reality, the chances of it being a real body were low. If that's the case, playing detective for a while might be fun. As Souta said, we might be able to create some youth-like memories.

But if by chance the astronaut remains undiscovered when the demolition work starts, I'd feel guilty about it, or awkward at least. If it hasn't been discovered right before demolition, let's report it just in case.

So our time limit is the day of the demolition . . . no, wait.

Souta put his hand on his chin and furrowed his brow.

Before the construction work, there's a public event. It's called the Farewell Viewing Event where visitors can tour the inside.

Oh really? I didn't know they had something like that.

Saki remarked with interest.

Judging by how he knew about the event details, Souta must have been concerned about the Abandoned School's demolition for some time. If he'd been thinking about doing something special after learning that our place of memories would disappear, his unusual enthusiasm made a bit more sense.

The Farewell Viewing Event is on July thirty-first, if I remember correctly.

Souta announced.

So that's our time limit then.

Yeah.

Today was Wednesday, July twelfth. The closing ceremony would be next Thursday, so there was about a week until summer vacation.

From there, it would be another week and a half until the day of the Farewell Viewing Event.

In total, including today, we had twenty days. That would be our investigation period.

And one more thing.

Souta raised his index finger and flashed a suspicious smile.

Shouldn't we give a name to our astronaut, whether it's a he or a she?

A name?

I echoed.

We'll need one for various reasons. I've got a good candidate in mind. Riku, Saki, do you read foreign science fiction novels?

No, I don't read novels at all.

I don't read much science fiction either.

Perhaps disappointed by our cold responses, Souta let out a small sigh.

Then I guess there's no point explaining its origin. I'll bring it next time for you to read. There's a manga version too, Riku, I'll lend that one to you.

We nodded.

I've been thinking about this for a while. In this situation, when naming a mysterious astronaut, we simply have to reference his masterpiece.

And then Souta made an announcement.

He revealed the name of the pitiful astronaut that would greatly change our summer.

From now on, this corpse will be called "Charlie."

If you call an incredible coincidence fate, then this truly might be fateful.

The Abandoned School where not even a single ghost story could be heard—dissatisfied with such a place, we had planted a cursed talisman there five years ago.

And in that exact same spot, an astronaut's skeletal remains had been found.

Would our first-year middle school selves have rejoiced at hearing this news?

The Prisoner wandered through the depths of the foggy Sea of Trees.

He had no idea how long he had been doing so.

His consciousness was fading, as if traveling between this world and one beyond.

A strange floating sensation enveloped the Prisoner.

The seemingly endless sea of trees evoked a sense of eternity.

The roots crawling at his feet, eroded by moss, reminded him of his own fading consciousness.

Perhaps this is how the end comes—without a clear boundary.

As this thought crossed his mind, the Prisoner contemplated the afterlife.

Yes. She might be waiting beyond his release.

Once he reached there, he might be able to see her again.

The Prisoner sat down on the damp ground, leaning his back against one of the trees.

He stretched his legs and gazed absently at the canopy spreading above his head.

Perhaps I've already crossed over without realizing it.

Perhaps this place is already that world.

In his fading consciousness, this seemed like a brilliant insight.

So I'll surely meet her soon.

Just as he smiled at this perfect realization, a human figure appeared in the distance.

The hazy blue figure gradually grew larger.

It seemed to have noticed the Prisoner's presence and was approaching.

Too large to be her.

The unidentified blue giant stared directly at the Prisoner.

1

I woke up in my room as usual and got ready as usual. After seeing my dad off to work, I nibbled on ham toast for breakfast with my mom in the sunlit living-dining room and glanced at the local news playing on TV.

Astronaut's skeletal remains discovered in an abandoned school about to be demolished!

No such news was being reported, of course. In reality, they were covering the annual summer festival.

It was a strange feeling. Despite having made such a bizarre discovery, we were the only ones who knew about it. Neither the news program reporting the headlines nor my mom drinking iced coffee across from me knew about the existence of Charlie.

Beneath everything flowing along as usual, I felt something overwhelming stirring. The excitement that something had begun, mixed with the confusion of where it might lead—such pounding in my chest made me aware of my own existence.

To be honest, I might have been wishing for those bones to be real. While I put on a rational front saying they couldn't possibly be genuine, deep down I was ultimately excited about the adventure surrounding a mysterious corpse.

Hey.

On a sudden impulse, I asked Mom:

Have you ever read the science fiction novel Inherit the Stars?

Why, suddenly from the blue skies?

Mom occasionally uses strange expressions as if they were completely normal. I'm used to it after being her son for so many years, but it's related to her work as an English-to-Japanese translator from home. Basically, she directly translates English idioms into Japanese. Among them, "suddenly from blue skies" is a frequent phrase—her personal Japanese rendition of the expression "out of the blue," which corresponds to the Japanese idiom "bolt from the blue."

So, I thought that since Mom reads a lot of foreign novels, she might know about the source of the name Charlie that Souta mentioned yesterday.

I heard it was good, so I was wondering what kind of story it is. Apparently there's an astronaut named Charlie in it.

Ah.

Mom nodded.

It's set in the near future when humanity has expanded into space. A skeleton wearing a spacesuit is discovered on the moon, and they name it Charlie. But when they examine the bones more carefully, they realize it's the body of someone who died tens of thousands of years ago. Since humans were still in the Stone Age back then, everyone gets into an uproar wondering how such an ancient body could possibly be there.

So what happens next?

Smart scientists gather together and discuss it.

That's it?

That's the gist of it. Oh, you're thinking it sounds boring, aren't you?

No . . . well, maybe a little.

The amazing thing is that it's still fascinating despite sounding so simple.

Mom concluded with that and popped the remaining bits of ham toast into her mouth.

I just asked out of curiosity, but Mom seems to hold Inherit the Stars in high regard. Souta also called it a masterpiece, so there's no doubt it must be an interesting work.

So what was Charlie in the end?

When I asked her casually, Mom narrowed her eyes with a mysterious look.

Telling you that would ruin the fun, wouldn't it?

No, I don't really mind spoilers—

Absolutely not. I hate nothing more than people who are inconsiderate about spoilers. That's why I never do it myself. Especially for Inherit the Stars, which is a masterpiece among masterpieces. You need to read it yourself. And no looking it up online either. Understand?

Yes . . .

You be careful too, Riku. I would be heartbroken if you turned into someone who's careless with spoilers.

With that, Mom stood up, took her dishes, and headed toward the sink.

Left behind, I made a solemn vow to be considerate about spoilers.

2

Since we couldn't move Charlie anywhere, yesterday we took as many photos and videos as possible and began our investigation by sharing the materials. When deciding how to approach the investigation, we divided Charlie's mystery into three parts and assigned each person a responsibility.

1. Is it really a human skeleton?

2. Is the spacesuit authentic?

3. Why was it in the Abandoned School?

I took charge of the bones, Saki the spacesuit, and Souta the Abandoned School.

I'm handling the bones because I volunteered for it. It might be presumptuous and unnecessary concern on my part, but I felt that matters closely related to death shouldn't be assigned to Saki. So I immediately took on numer 1, which naturally led to Saki taking number 2. Souta ended up with the remaining 3, but he actually seems perfect for the role.

That's because Souta is a member of the drama club.

With the theory that Charlie is a prop being the most plausible right now, our first priority should be to identify all film productions shot at the Abandoned School. If we can find one featuring an astronaut, we might quickly uncover the truth. I might get scolded for lumping drama and film together, but among us, Souta knows the most about TV shows and movies, so he should be the right person for the task.

3

I couldn't get Charlie out of my head and was completely distracted during morning classes.

Fortunately, this was the period when final exams were being returned. We might get excited or disappointed by the results, but we weren't learning anything new. Someone could argue that reviewing our mistakes is what's most important, but honestly, the level of concentration required was less than during regular classes.

Since we can see each other at school during the week leading up to summer vacation, we've decided to gather as a trio every lunch break to hold investigation briefings. That's why I was so eagerly looking forward to lunch time.

While everyone around us was just checking their answers, we alone were taking on a special mystery.

Thinking this way, I realized I was completely captivated by this adventure.

And so lunchtime arrived.

The drama club room was chosen as our meeting place to avoid prying eyes.

Is it really true no one will come here?

I asked Souta, who was walking ahead of me as we entered the corner room on the first floor.

I told you before, didn't I? The drama club already has few members to begin with, and with all the restrictions and whatnot, we've been in a state of suspended operation. The members aren't particularly close with each other either, so they don't bother gathering during lunch. Plus, the air conditioner is broken. No one in their right mind would come to a place like this.

A whiteboard stood at the far end of the long, narrow room.

In the center, two long tables had been pushed together to create seating for four people.

I see.

I nodded and took a seat.

Souta had casually mentioned it, but he'd been talking about his dream of joining the drama club since middle school. After all that anticipation, ending up with this reality must be pretty disheartening for him.

As for me, I wasn't in any clubs. I'd practiced kendo until middle school, but I didn't have the passion to continue training during all those pandemic restrictions. I was sometimes praised for my good form, but I was never particularly strong in competitions, so I had no regrets about quitting.

Ugh, it's so hot . . .

Saki entered the club room with a grimace and placed her notebook and pencil case next to me.

I thought she was going to sit down right away, but she walked over to the wall and reached out to open a window. There was a long table in front of the window with various props like candelabras and fake shrubs lined up, making it a bit difficult to open.

That should make it a little better.

After taking a light breath of the air coming in from outside, Saki sat down.

Having watched all of this, Souta took a seat across from me.

Well then. Who should start? I can go first, but if anyone has made a decisive discovery, it would be better to begin with that report—

I have something.

Saki was the one who raised her hand.

I was a bit surprised by her eager response.

She had even prepared a notebook—an unexpected level of enthusiasm.

Go ahead then.

Souta prompted her to continue.

I did some research about the spacesuit. If it's authentic, a spacesuit apparently costs around one billion yen.

Souta and I exclaimed simultaneously.

Yeah. That's what it said online. Apparently, there are different types of spacesuits—pressure suits worn inside spacecraft and EVA suits for spacewalks, with a lot of differences between them. Charlie was definitely wearing an EVA suit. Remember that huge Backpack Unit he had? That's packed with life support and communication systems, and the suit material itself is specially designed. When you add everything up, it comes to hundreds of millions of yen.

I could imagine it would be expensive, but . . .

Souta remarked with a solemn tone.

Still, one billion yen. With that kind of money involved, the spacesuit itself could be the origin of some incident.

You mean like a conflict breaking out over stealing the spacesuit for money?

Exactly that.

But wouldn't there be a huge uproar if something worth hundreds of millions went missing? I checked if there were any news reports about stolen or missing EVA suits, but I couldn't find anything like that.

So then . . .

So Charlie's spacesuit is probably a fake . . . ?