The doctor had forgotten his name, but he clearly remembered these words. It could just be that the guy had been a genius – there are countless unlucky geniuses like that in the world. But hearing these words back then by the bridge in middle school, the doctor had been just one more of those with common sense who side with the world.
About a month after he’d begun to wish this incomprehensible possible genius dead, the guy was transferred to another school. If he was still alive today, what would he be doing? There was no way to know whether he’d died or possibly even been killed in his teens. This was why the boy haunted him. Even all these years later, that face would pop into his head several times a year, and always it would leave him brooding over whether he should have just killed him back then, or become his friend, or whether he should employ a detective and search him out, or whether the fellow still hated him. He even dreamed sometimes that the guy could now be a doctor with a side job in killing. Every time he recalled him in the past twenty years or so, the doctor thought to himself now, he’d talked himself into believing he had nothing in common with the guy.
But now that he’d come across the peculiar make-up of this fellow Yoshio Kita, it struck the doctor that the middle-aged Frankenstein would undoubtedly decide to condemn himself to death, just like Kita. The point is, the doctor tried telling himself, these folk who wage a losing battle with the world set up some grand suicidal scheme really for the sake of their own little egos. Nevertheless, he still felt disturbed.
His brain was spinning along at terrific speed, but his tired eyes and body couldn’t keep up, and he felt oppressed by dizziness. The doctor closed his eyes and attempted to simply wait quietly for the plane to land. It was smoothly losing momentum now, but his dizziness made it feel as if it was going into a tail spin. He felt ill. It was always at such moments that images of bloody human organs came floating past under his closed lids. If only the damn plane would just go down, he thought, bury its nose in the middle of some hapless town below and burst into flames – anything rather than this.
Kita disembarked ahead of him. The doctor retrieved his bag from the stewardess and stepped briskly after him. He gained ground on the departing backpack, thinking that he could safely hail Kita now without risking him running off. Just then Kita turned suddenly right and ran into the toilet. The doctor was obliged to follow him, and he placed himself at the next urinal. Even this failed to alert Kita, however.
“I’d ask you not to go eating curry at airports,” the doctor said.
Kita turned to look at him with an expression of distaste, and heaved a deep sigh. “God, how unlucky can I get!”
In a few more hours, Friday would begin. Why should a guy who was due to die tomorrow have any need for luck?
“No need to worry. I’m not planning to get in your way.” The doctor smiled at him in friendly fashion, but Kita frowned.
“So what the hell’re you up to then?” he demanded fiercely, and turned to wash his hands.
The doctor held out his handkerchief for Kita to wipe his hands on. “I have something I’d like to discuss, you see.”
“How did you know I was going to Hokkaido?”
“Oh, sheer coincidence. I was after a holiday in Hokkaido myself.”
“That’s a lie.”
“You’re right, it is.”
“You’ve been asked to follow me, haven’t you?”
“No. I’m accompanying you out of mere personal curiosity.”
“I’m not some kind of exhibit, you know.”
“And I’m not here as audience, I assure you. If there’s anything I can do, I’d be glad to help.”
Kita drew a deep breath, then suddenly took off at a run. The doctor ran beside him. At the taxi stand, Kita turned to face him. “Stop meddling in other people’s business! Get lost!” he gasped desperately.
“I understand,” the doctor nodded expressionlessly.
“You! I’m talking about YOU!” yelled Kita, leaning threateningly over the doctor, but the doctor merely continued talking in a soothing tone.
“I’ve followed your instructions, and dispatched that man who tried to take advantage of you. You’re now quite free to be your own man. I won’t meddle, don’t you worry. But you know the saying, ‘Companions on the road.’ Just allow me to have dinner with you, that’s all I ask. I was wanting to discuss methods of payment with you. You’ll be setting off on a long journey tomorrow, Kita. Tonight’s the last time you’ll have a business conversation, you know.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re headed for the city centre? I don’t know when you plan to die tomorrow, of course, but tonight’s your last night, isn’t it? I was wondering if you’d care to have a sympathetic ear for any last words you may have.”
The doctor was clever not only with his hands but with his tongue. Kita couldn’t very well turn him down, since he’d come for his promised payment, so he meekly followed the doctor’s beckoning hand and got into the taxi with him.
This last week felt like an endless series of changing vehicles. How many taxis had he taken by now, he wondered? Looked like it took a lot of changes to get you to the next world. Maybe in New York or Rio de Janeiro you could get a taxi that would take you straight there.
“So what are your plans for tonight? You must be rather weary,” the doctor said.
“Kidnapping’s an exhausting business. Is it all sorted now?”
“I’d guess Shinobu is being mobbed by the press right about now. It’s the rebirth of a star.”
“Did I do the right thing, then?”
“You did, I’m sure. And you got away without being caught, what’s more.”
“True. By the way, Mr Killer, you mentioned back there that you’d dispatched Yashiro. You actually killed him?”
“He’s still alive. But I’ve shortened his life considerably. He’ll go another three years at the outside, could be six months, then he’ll die.”
“What did you do?”
“I stole a kidney. You can’t sell a life if you steal it, after all, but you can get some money for a kidney.”
“And how is he?”
“I couldn’t really say. We exchanged greetings after the surgery, that’s all. I imagine he’s probably in hospital by now. I had to perform the surgery in that filthy office of his, so I’d guess quite a few bacteria got in. How he gets along will rather depend on how good his immune system is, but you can be sure he’ll be befriended by quite a variety of illnesses from now on, and forced to spend his days contemplating approaching death.” The doctor sounded positively gleeful.
“Does this count as murder?”
“I wonder. I could maybe be convicted of robbery and grievous bodily harm. Maybe negligence leading to death. Although it wasn’t negligence, it was intentional. The question comes down to whether there was any intent to kill. You ordered me to kill him, so I guess the answer is yes, but I didn’t in fact kill him at the time, so it would be hard to prove intent to kill. You’re going to die tomorrow, so you won’t be in a position to bear witness. Therefore, I can only conclude it can’t count as murder.”
“So what did you really want to do?”
“I couldn’t say. I simply chose the most rational approach.”
“You weren’t sure whether to kill him or save him, so you stole his kidney, is that it?”
“That’s what it amounts to, yes.”
“In that case, you can’t claim to have killed him, so I’m not obliged to pay you.”
“Ah, I see. That’s what you’re driving at. Never mind. I got a decent sum from selling his kidney on the black market.”