The Book That Shouldn't Be Readable #ShortShort

"This isn't written in Japanese."
When I took the book from my daughter, it felt strangely heavy. It also looked old. For starters, I have no memory of ever buying such a book. There is no title on the cover, either. What on earth is this...

◇

We suddenly decided to move, and I had to reduce the amount of stuff in the house. My books were the ones on the chopping block. Books—well, to put it nicely, my collection—some of them, no, most of them, have to be gotten rid of.

It's good that the floor space in the house will increase with the move. Having more room is a good thing. But it's still a 2LDK apartment. My middle-school daughter is happy that she'll finally have a bigger room. However, the storage unit I've been using as my "study (provisional)" will be gone.

"You know what this means, right?"
My wife's word is law. I know that even without her telling me. In the end, I have no choice but to minimize my belongings, which had enjoyed freedom until now.

Books are my treasures. I've always thought so. Hardcover novels, paperbacks, anime magazines, subculture reference books... It's endless if I look at them one by one, but I can't throw away the old anime magazines that (I alone) believe have historical value, and the out-of-print photo book of my favorite idol group is a no-go, too. It's a secret fandom from my wife, after all...

While I was sorting through the books, which wasn't going very well for reasons like that, my daughter picked one up and asked, "What book is this?" It was a thick book with a black binding.

When I opened the left-opening cover, which had nothing written on it, I saw incomprehensible words written horizontally. It wasn't English. It wasn't Arabic script, either. I couldn't read it at all. It looked a bit like sheet music without a staff, but as I flipped through the pages, there were things that looked like illustrations. Those pictures, too, looked like geometric patterns and were meaningless. I looked for the colophon at the end to see who the publisher was. It wasn't written anywhere.

"What book is this..."
"Don't you remember?"
My daughter is looking at me with exasperation.

"...I wouldn't buy a book with characters I can't read."
"Didn't someone give it to you?"
"I have absolutely no memory of that."

"Are you still not done packing?"
My wife, who was gathering laundry, walked by.
"...Apparently, there was a book I'd never seen before mixed in..."
My daughter took the book from me and showed it to my wife.

"What is this..."
My wife put the laundry basket on the floor and flipped through the book. She pushed up the frame of her black round glasses with her middle finger.
"I can't read this at all."
"That's why I was asking why a book like this is here."

My wife said "Hmm" with no interest and handed the book to my daughter.
"Maybe this is yours? You know, from that magical girl toy..."
The moment she heard the words "magical girl," my daughter's face lit up.
"Oh! The one from back then?"
"Yes. You might not remember because you were small, but I feel like a book like this came as a set with the pendant."
"I see!"

Before I knew it, my wife and daughter were getting excited. So, it was a toy accessory. It just happened to get mixed in somehow. What a fuss over nothing.
"...In that case, keep it properly. It's yours."
"Okay!"
My daughter hugged the book nostalgically and went straight to the living room.

"Hurry up and finish packing. You have plastic model boxes and stuff, too!"
My wife's attitude immediately changed like a ruthless witch. Unfortunately, no one in our house can defy her.

Huh?

Huh, come to think of it, what was I talking about with my daughter just now?

Well, whatever. I have to hurry up and pack the plastic models or I'll get yelled at again—

◇◇

I was lying on the living room sofa, flipping through the black book.

I can't read it at all, but it feels strangely nostalgic. Come to think of it, when I was little, I was obsessed with magical girls in anime. It wasn't "I wish I could use magic like that," but rather, I thought I was supposed to be able to use it. That's right. That's why I was trying to read this book.

Then, Mom came over carrying the laundry basket.

Why does Mom only wear dark-colored clothes? Her black round glasses are plain, too. And she's chubby. I'm short like Mom, so I wonder if I'll end up like that someday. I don't want that. I have to go on a diet.

"You didn't remember that book?"
"Yeah, I forgot."
Mom tilted her head slightly. Then, muttering "Is it not time yet?", she took the book away from me.

"You used to read it so enthusiastically when you were little."
"What are you talking about? I can't read that."
"That's certainly true."
Mom said that, laughed to herself, and tossed the book carelessly into the basket.
"Huh? ...Why?"
"I'll tell you when you're ready."
"..."
What is she talking about? It's just a toy freebie, right? Besides, it's my book, so don't just take it without asking.

Just as I was about to complain, Mom winked at me, and with the basket dangling from her hand, she headed toward the washing machine.

Huh?

Wait, come to think of it, what was I doing just now?

Oh, never mind that, it's time for my diet. I have to drink tomato juice so I don't end up like Mom—

◇◇◇

—I sighed as I put the laundry into the washing machine.

In the basket at hand, there is a black book.

That was close just now.

Why was this book in my husband's luggage? It must have been my mistake. I was careless, which is unlike me. I managed to fool the two of them with magic, but I have to make sure to keep it hidden properly even after we move.

"Don't handle me so roughly."
Suddenly, a boyish voice was heard. I took the black book out of the basket.

"Did you just wake up?"
"I woke up when that girl found me."
The black book trembled slightly.
"I heard the two of you talking. I stayed quiet because I figured you'd faint if I suddenly started speaking."
The book has no mouth, speaker, or sound-producing organs, but it can be heard as a voice. I've always found that strange, but that's just how it is.

"Haven't you told that girl yet?"
"...The timing is difficult."
"Being a witch is tough, isn't it..."

I turned the page and said, "I want to tell her the truth once we move," and the book replied, "Maybe it's about time. Well, wake me up again when that happens. Goodnight," and then it fell silent. My goodness. It loves to sleep. Well, it's been like that for a long time, though...

Certainly, people would usually be surprised if a book started talking. But for me, that has been normal since I was little.

In the first place, this book isn't meant to be read. It's something you listen to, not read. Of course, neither my husband nor my daughter knows that. Nor do they know that I come from a line of witches. If my husband knew I could use magic, he'd definitely just slack off.

But my daughter is different. The time is drawing near.

Magic isn't omnipotent. There are things you can do and things you can't. I have to teach her properly about magic and about this world. But well, since my daughter was able to hear this book's voice when she was little, she should have the aptitude. She's obsessed with her diet right now, but she'll learn soon enough.

I heard my husband's voice from the storage room.
"Taeko~ Isn't this cleaning tool yours? Why is there a straw broom here?"

I snapped my fingers and made the "Witch's Textbook" in the laundry basket disappear so no one would find it—


<End>

(From the author)
This is another story about Taeko the witch. I would be happy if you read it as well. They are loosely connected, but can be read independently.