“So are you in touch with the dead? How do you do that?”
“You need a bit of training. But it’s easy really. You just have to remember that person. Just keep remembering them all the time. The dead get stronger when the living remember them. When you’re desperately struggling with something, just stop and relax for a moment, look at the dandelion on the roadside, open your ears to the sound of the wind. The souls of the dead have become part of the natural world, so if you do this, you’ll always get the sense that they’re there.”
As he listened, Kita was thinking of the mother he’d left earlier that day. She’d begun to lose her mind without his noticing. Maybe that was why she was still living with her husband, though he died four years ago. Maybe she was actually communicating with a dead soul, just as Shinobu described.
Shinobu straightened her back. “That’s the end of Mass,” she announced.
“I’ve started to feel people really do come back to life,” Kita said with a laugh.
“You’re weird,” Shinobu murmured, as she started the engine of her little sports car.
“So in fact, Kita, you haven’t told me a thing about yourself.” They were back at the front lobby of the hotel, so late the bellboy was asleep. Shinobu spoke in a low, querulous voice. Kita felt he’d behaved quite honestly with her, but evidently he hadn’t managed to dispel her doubts. Though maybe it was the luxury of having paid a hundred thousand yen that spared him from talking about himself.
“I’ll just tell you one thing. But you have to promise me two things first. One is that you won’t tell anyone. The other is that you won’t ask why.”
Shinobu gave a slight nod to indicate that she promised.
“I’m going to die this Friday. So fate brought us together only to part.”
Kita hid the smile on his face as he spoke, but Shinobu said, “It’s a joke, right?”
“I’ll come and see you if I’m resurrected.”
“Why are you going to die?”
“You promised not to ask.”
“That was sneaky,” Shinobu murmured, and she suddenly seized Kita’s wrist and held it so hard she almost stopped his pulse.
“Let go.”
“No. If I let go, you’ll go to hell.”
She’d already said Mass. Was she going to cast a spell on him now? He put his lips to her slender white hand, and whispered as if murmuring words of love, “I don’t mind if I go to hell.” Then he removed her hand, and got out of the car. Shinobu got out too, and tried to hold him back.
“You mustn’t go to the next world! It’s terrible! It’s just the worst place!”
You’d have thought she’d been there on a holiday and seen it herself. Well, if it really was the worst possible place, and he couldn’t face living there, he’d rely on Jesus’ words and ask to be resurrected.
But in fact Kita even doubted if there was such a thing as the next world.
“Still, I have to go. You’ve given me fresh courage to die, Shinobu.”
“But why?” Shinobu couldn’t conceal her disappointment.
“I was in luck tonight. Let’s meet again, eh?” Kita spoke his farewell with all the freshness of someone just out of the bath. He smiled. Shinobu released his arm, with a look that said she could see through that smile of his. She was left with nothing but an overpowering sense of futility after this fateful meeting with a man who could never appear in the Bible.
Chapter 5
TUESDAY
After the Mass of the night before, when he’d found himself caught between a star and the Bible, Kita slept soundly. It was as though he’d been given a respite from some vague despair.
He woke at eight. After eating the room service breakfast in bed and taking a shower, he shaved carefully and took time to do his hair. His old girlfriend’s husband left their house every morning at eight, he knew, and set off for his workplace at Kasumigaseki. Kita’s plan was to follow the opposite route, and make a direct attack on the house while the husband was absent.
He gathered that housewives usually saw off the husband and children, then did some housework till around ten, when they took a break and went out, either for shopping, or to the beauty parlour, sports gym, or to work on some hobby. If he didn’t make his raid early, he might miss his only opportunity to see her; if he got lost en route, he might very well never fulfil his wish of seeing her once more in this life. Unfortunately, the day was fine. She’d probably be in the mood to head out the door for a joyride once she’d hung out the washing.
He had to catch her before she did so. He would ring the doorbell and announce the arrival of an express delivery; both the sender and the deliverer, not to mention the package, would, of course, be himself. Choosing a different deliverer might well prove more effective at catching her off her guard, but he didn’t have the time to arrange it. She might also decide to refuse the delivery, consigning the unopened package to oblivion.
He left his room empty-handed just past nine. The most suitable attire for sneaking in behind the back of the Finance Ministry employee was probably a dark suit, but the shops weren’t yet open, so he made do with yesterday’s free fashion ensemble.
It was now the fifth day since he’d decided on his execution, and there were only three more to go. Now at last he felt he had escaped the clutches of all those people who were just after his money, the death merchants, and the professional would-be suicides, and become his own master. If Yashiro hadn’t stolen his taxi last Friday, all this would never have happened. It was thanks to the men and women that that guy had introduced him to that he had wasted two nights in Atami, not to mention signing away his corneas, his organs and his life. But hey, forget all that, he thought. Let’s just assume that I’ve been purified of everything by last night’s Mass.
Once in the train on the Odakyu Line, he settled down to think. What was the best way to announce himself in order to avenge his broken heart? What was the first thing he should say to her once he’d told her over the intercom that she had a special delivery, and brought her to the door? Would she realize who he was if he said nothing? If she asked what he’d come for, he’d tell her his name, and apologize for the unexpected visit. Naturally, she’d be bound to look put out. Surely she wouldn’t come straight out and demand to know what he was doing there, when she’d vowed never to see him again? If she did, he should answer unflinchingly, “Don’t worry. You’ll never see me again.”
Or, since he already knew he wouldn’t be welcome, perhaps he should say, “I’ll pay you a hundred thousand yen if you let me have tea with you at home here.” And if she didn’t get the joke, too bad. He should either just walk right in, or drag her out. Still, if he did that she’d take a strong stand and start treating her old lover like an abductor. It was a peaceful neighbourhood, so the police were bound to come running.
For some reason, his imagination kept tending toward negative scenarios. Surely it was possible that she’d exclaim, “Well, well, great to see you again. How are you?” the moment she saw him, and invite him in as if he were one of her many friends just dropped by. She may be indebted to him, after all, but she shouldn’t bear him any grudge.