“I stole a car.”
“So? Just give it back.”
“I ordered that Yashiro be killed.”
“The guy who killed him’s to blame for that. Not you.”
“I’ve done stuff you don’t know about. No one does, except me.”
“God will forgive you.”
“God may, but I don’t forgive myself.”
“What did you do? Tell me.”
“I killed a child.”
“When? Where?”
“When I was five.”
“Who did you kill?”
“I drowned my kid brother.”
“It must’ve been an accident.”
“No. My parents thought it was too, but it was me that killed him. No one blamed me. That’s why I believed that it really was an accident. I haven’t once told myself in all these thirty years that I killed my own brother. I’d forgotten my own sin. But then one day I saw two little brothers quarrelling on a riverbank and it all came back to me. It was no accident. At the time, I definitely wanted my little brother to drown. When I understood this, I just couldn’t stop crying. Thirty years later is too late to remember something like that. No one’s going to punish me now. A little boy’s life was ended at the age of three by his big brother. And his big brother lived on for thirty years and never paid the price. I was crushed at the thought. I went down to Kyushu in order to at least confess at my father’s grave. That’s where I made the decision to condemn myself to death. I decided to go and tell my mother, but when I got there I found she’d gone senile in the four months since I’d last seen her. So neither of my parents will ever know what I did. You once said the next world is a horrible place, didn’t you? But if such a place exists, that’s where I have to go. I want to find my kid brother and beg his forgiveness, and look after him. He was only in this world for three short years. He never got to taste the pleasures of this life. I want to tell him all about this world of ours. That’s why I gave myself a week’s grace, so I could taste some of its pleasures myself.”
“Your little brother has forgiven you, I’m sure of it. He’ll be wanting his big brother to go on living.”
“He died without knowing why. That really wrenches my heart. My own death is a different matter – it’s willed, and it’s justified. Neither Yashiro nor the doctor know the reason. They both think you can commit suicide without needing to have a reason. But I wanted to tell you. You refuse to accept that I could die for no reason, see.”
“Couldn’t you go on living, for my sake? Why did you turn your back on me when I suggested we should die together?”
“The time for love is past.”
“You can atone for your kid brother’s death even if you stay alive, you know. You can commune with the dead without having to die yourself. You just have to think about him. You’d forgotten till now, but from now on you can remember. Please, come back.”
“I’ve told you this already, but if I’m resurrected, I’ll come and see you. Thank you. Goodbye.”
Aki was there beside him as he headed back to the car, but he managed to trip her up and leap in before she recovered. He gave her a merry wave and took off, leaving her standing there disgruntled, snapping her last photographs of the rapidly retreating rear end of the white coffin. For some reason she’d found it quite elating to discover that this way of living, or rather dying, was possible. She’d hopped in to the car in the hope that he might abduct her too, but it hadn’t worked out that way. Still, it had given her a certain courage. Maybe I’ll just go ahead and leave home, she thought.
He’d better crash the car before the gasoline in the spare tank ran out, Kita decided. He’d find a bit of coastline just right for plunging the car into, and give himself a sea burial. After all, his kid brother had drowned. Where was he now? How far would wind-blown Cape Erimo be from here? That would be a good place to drive off a cliff. But at this rate, he was likely to grow old worrying over irrelevant questions. Better be quick. He’d had a pretty good last week. It was great to have thrown everything to the wind for once. He’d put up with too much in his boring life, God knows. This person called “Yoshio Kita” was a pretty bankrupt specimen. But this last week he’d been on a really good roll, so let’s say it had been a good life. He had loved. He’d had lots of great sex. He’d eaten his fill of seafood and curry. He’d donated lots of money to the Red Cross. He’d almost been poisoned to death. He’d gone to two hot springs, and smoked dope. The memory of this reminded him what a weird guy that doctor was. He hadn’t ever learned his real name. The guy would probably die a lousy death. He despised life, after all. Why should there be room in this crowded world for people like that? True, the world had turned out to be a crazier place than Kita had assumed. By average standards, Kita was a pretty regular guy after all. Well then, he should die the death of a normal citizen. Spur of the moment, and no second chance. Just slam the foot down on the accelerator. If he took off from the cliff edge at about a hundred thirty miles an hour, he’d probably achieve about the same distance as a ski jump. But maybe he should just take a peep over the edge before he went. There was an ideal curve right there. And – a lucky break – no hospital in sight.
Kita got out and looked over the cliff edge. It was about fifty feet high. Down below, foaming waves washed up over the black rocks. If he smashed through the guardrail and went over, he’d have to be pretty unlucky not to die. He’d probably need a run-up of no more than three hundred yards or so.
Right, was there anything else he needed to do before he took off? Not really, but why not pause and look at the sea? This was the sea that would be his grave, after all. That weedy stuff floating over there beyond the rocks where the waves were breaking must be kelp. It looked somehow like it was beckoning him with its long slippery arms. He’d soon be taking his eternal sleep cradled in those arms like a sea otter. A seaweed burial, eh? Not a bad thing, after all.
The only worry was how hard it might be to crash through the guardrail. It didn’t look all that solid, so he guessed he’d get through without any problem if he hit it at around a hundred thirty miles an hour. What did professional ski jumpers think about before a jump, he wondered? They always looked as though they were mourning lost love, but that was surely due to the tension. They were probably imagining the parabola of a perfect jump.
Why not take a piss? There wouldn’t be any public toilets on the banks of the Styx where he was going, after all. But for that matter, there were none here either. OK, his last piss by the side of a street. His last meal had been curry. His last companion in life had been Shinobu. The last person he’d shaken off in life was Aki. His last lover was Shinobu. His last love was Shinobu. The last thing he’d read in life was… the Bible, right? This looked a bit too good. OK, how about singing a last song? The old Shinichi Mori number ‘Nothing happens in the spring at Erimo.’ I guess nothing happens in summer there either. And Fall? Winter? Right, he’d taken his last piss. Now was the time for his last drive. No, hang on there. He hadn’t stood on his head for the last time yet. Why not try it? He hadn’t stood on his hands in quite a while. He checked left and right in case a car was coming, then put his hands down in the middle of the road.
He twisted his back as he went up, but he still managed to walk a few steps on his hands. In the old days he used to make it to fifteen steps. He’d aged. OK, exactly how long had he lived now? Let’s count up. Today was Friday the 13th. His birthday was also the thirteenth, so that made him exactly thirty-five years and six months old. What would he be doing tomorrow, if he were still alive?
Enough! Thinking about this on the day of your execution just made you sad. It was important to enjoy this Death By Choice. Yoshio Kita was going to go out with an erection and a blissful expression, like Saint Sebastian. Although he was feeling a little tense. Right, let’s try a bit of muscle relaxation. His last loosening-up exercises.