I could tell Chikashi was disturbed by my comment, but she replied coolly and calmly as usuaclass="underline" “In that situation, Akari stopped composing of his own free will, and when he started again it was also by his own choice. In both cases, he was in control of his own destiny. I’ll admit that when I thought he might never write another composition I felt utterly devastated, but the decision was Akari’s and I had no choice but to accept it. Also, during that time Akari was still listening to music, both on CDs and on the radio.
“But the way things are at present, some truly terrible words have been spoken, and they can never be forgotten or unsaid. It seems as though Akari has decided that he no longer wants anything to do with this family and with Papa in particular. We’ve never experienced a crisis even remotely like this, and the strangest thing of all, for me, is to be living in a house that isn’t constantly filled with music.”
Since I don’t always learn from my mistakes, this was my ill-considered response: “How would it be if you tried playing CDs of Mozart and Bach and so on at low volume, when my brother is away from the house?”
“But why should Akari need to behave in such a furtive manner? Or are you saying that I should just put on some random CDs and force the issue?” Chikashi asked sternly. I pictured her normally serene face with the brow furrowed in an expression of disapproval, and it gave me a chill. To my relief, she continued in a neutral, reflective tone, almost as if she was talking to herself. “I appreciate the suggestion, but music has always been Akari’s domain, and I’m afraid having me fill our silent house with my own choices could make the situation even more uncomfortable than it already is.”
Unfortunately, after having had my clumsy faux pas redeemed by Chikashi’s generosity of spirit — she is always so extraordinarily gracious, even in the midst of her own travails — I ended up saying something that I fear was even more irritating.
“You mentioned that there’s never before been such a serious rift between Akari and my brother, but hasn’t Kogii tried to repair the damage?” I asked. “In the past, if things had ever gotten to this point, it seems to me that everyone would have gone all out to get the situation back to normal. I mean, if you read Rouse Up O Young Men of the New Age! …” I trailed off.
Chikashi responded to my question in a tone I’d never heard from her before. Until then she had been referring to you as “Papa,” and hearing her suddenly switch to calling you “that man” made my blood run cold. The things she said were so rigorous and unforgiving that I must have somehow rearranged the words in my mind afterward as a defense mechanism. However, I haven’t been able to forget the underlying message.
In essence, this is what she said: “That man’s way of extending a conciliatory hand to Akari is shallow and superficial; I won’t go so far as to say it’s disingenuous, but even if such an approach has occasionally been effective in the past, hasn’t that man’s oppression of Akari been part of the problem all along? True, that man has some little tricks that have been useful for patching up minor rifts in the past, but if he tries to deploy them now, when his relationship with Akari has reached a complete impasse — well, the truth is it won’t work, and I don’t even want him to try. He sits around drinking and stewing about the situation, and does impulsive things like rushing out to buy new CDs he thinks might interest Akari and bringing them home as a peace offering. I really wish he would refrain from doing that sort of thing as well. As you know, music has been the single most important element in Akari’s life practically forever. The basic principle of listening to music of his own free will must be preserved no matter what. And in order to make sure his freedom to listen to music is protected, his freedom not to listen to music must be respected as well. To borrow one of that man’s favorite phrases — doesn’t it come down to fundamental human rights? If he somehow decided to force Akari to listen to music against his will, as yet another form of oppression, it could do irrevocable damage to Akari, psychologically. It’s even possible that Akari might express his opposition by violently lashing out at that man in an unprecedented way.
“By the way, what I said just now? I actually borrowed some of the phrasing from Maki, but the things she said echoed what I had been thinking on my own. If things go on like this Maki might end up taking Akari away to live at her house, and I’m not sure I could oppose such a plan, in good conscience.”
At this point Chikashi seemed to sense that my hands were trembling uncontrollably on the other end of the line, and she stopped referring to you as “that man,” which I had found extremely distressing.
“I’ve been going around saying that our house in Seijo is inhabited by two giant lumps of depression, and when I think of those two being alone together in their current state, it really frightens me,” she went on. “So before I check in to the hospital, I’d like to send them away to a place where they might have a better chance of figuring out how to live together with at least a modicum of peace and harmony. And for Papa, being on Shikoku surrounded by his beloved forest would be very restorative, don’t you agree? I’m afraid setting things up would involve imposing on you even more — I mean, I’m already asking you to come to Tokyo and nurse me through my recovery—’but if you don’t mind, that’s how I’d like to handle it.”
Chikashi’s courteous words at the end of our conversation made me feel better about the critical things she had said about you, but after I hung up the phone the sound of her fierce soliloquy was still ringing in my ears. I couldn’t bear to stay at home alone so I headed over to the Forest House, hoping to talk to Unaiko. However, she wasn’t there — apparently she and Ricchan were both taking care of some business matters — and the house was closed up tight. Since I hadn’t brought my key, I went around to the back garden, sat down in front of the poetry stone, and looked at the lines Mother wrote: You didn’t get Kogii ready to go up into the forest / And like the river current, you won’t return home.
Kogii, what you’re doing now is even worse than that, isn’t it? There’s no point in raking you over the coals, but we both know you’re in a far more dire situation now than when you wrote your part of that poem: In Tokyo during the dry season / I’m remembering everything backward, / From old age to earliest childhood.
I hope you’ll listen carefully to whatever Chikashi and Maki have to say, and please, please don’t even think about doing anything rash. When I mention the need for caution, I’m talking about two aspects of your current situation. First, now that the ill-fated drowning novel has come to naught, I’m afraid the resulting disappointment may have severed the only work-related bond connecting you to this world. Then, on the personal side of the equation, there’s the deplorable situation with Akari. The two of you have been practically joined at the hip for all these years, and that link seems to have been sundered as well. At this point, I’m worried that you may be asking yourself whether you have any ties to this life anymore. So I just want to ask you to be very careful not to fall into the kind of tediously nihilistic, self-destructive state of mind old people are especially vulnerable to, because we both know where it can lead.