There was no reply. The woman kept quiet in an attempt to obliterate her presence in the darkness.
I went on: How he managed to do it and what the occasion was I have no idea, but at some point Noboru Wataya increased his violent power geometrically. Through television and the other media, he gained the ability to train his magnified power on society at large. Now he is trying to bring out something that the great mass of people keep hidden in the darkness of their unconscious. He wants to use it for his own political advantage. Its a tremendously dangerous thing, this thing he is trying to draw out: its fatally smeared with violence and blood, and its directly connected to the darkest depths of history, because its final effect is to destroy and obliterate people on a massive scale.
She sighed in the darkness. I wonder if I could bother you to pour me another whiskey? she asked softly.
I walked over to the night table and picked up her empty glass. I could do that much in the dark without difficulty. I went into the other room and poured a new whiskey on the rocks with the aid of the flashlight.
What you just said was strictly a product of your own imagination, right? she asked.
That's right. I've strung a few separate ideas together, I said. Theres no way I can prove any of this. I don't have any basis for claiming that what I have said is true.
But still, Id like to hear the rest-if there is more to tell.
I went back into the inner room and put the glass on the night table. Then I switched off the flashlight and returned to my chair. There I concentrated my attention on telling the rest of my story.
You didn't know exactly what had happened to your sister, only that she had given you some kind of warning before she died. You were too small at the time to understand what it was about. But you did understand, in a vague sort of way. You knew that Noboru Wataya had somehow defiled and injured your sister. And you sensed the presence in your blood of some kind of dark secret, something from which you could not remain aloof. And so, in that house, you were always alone, always tense, struggling by yourself to live with your dormant, undefinable anxiety, like one of those jellyfish we saw in the aquarium.
After you graduated from college-and after all the trouble with your family- you married me and left the Wataya house. Our life was serene, and with each day that went by, you were able, bit by bit, to forget your dark anxiety. You went out into society, a new person, as you continued gradually to recover. For a while, it looked as though everything was going to work out for you. But unfortunately, it wasn't that simple. At some point you noticed that you were being drawn, unconsciously, toward that dark force that you thought you had left behind. And when you realized what was happening, you became confused. You didn't know what to do. Which is why you went to talk to Noboru Wataya, hoping to learn the truth. And you sought out Malta Kano, hoping that she could give you help. It was only to me that you could not open up.
I would guess that all this started after you became pregnant. That, I'm sure, was the turning point. Which is probably why I received my first warning from the guitar player in Sapporo the night you had the abortion. Getting pregnant may have stimulated and awakened the dormant something inside you. And that was exactly what Noboru Wataya had been waiting for. That may be the only way he is capable of sexually committing to a woman. That is why he was so determined to drag you back from my side to his, once that tendency began to surface in you. He had to have you. Noboru Wataya needed you to play the role your sister had once played for him.
When I finished speaking, a deep silence came to fill in the emptiness. I had given voice to everything that my imagination had taught me about Kumiko. Parts of it had come from vague thoughts I had had until then, and the rest had taken shape in my mind while I spoke in the darkness. Perhaps the power of darkness had filled in the blank spots in my imagination. Or perhaps this womans presence had helped. In either case, there was no solid basis for what I had imagined.
A very, very interesting story, said the woman. Again her voice had become the one with the girlish lisp. The speed with which her voice changed seemed to be increasing. Well, well, well. So I left you to go into hiding with my defiled body. Its like Waterloo Bridge in the mist, Auld Lang Syne, Robert Taylor and Vivien Leigh- I'm going to take you out of here, I said, cutting her off. I'm going to take you home, to the world where you belong, where cats with bent tails live, and there are little backyards, and alarm clocks ring in the morning.
And how are you going to do that? the woman asked. How are you going to take me out of here, Mr. Okada?
The way they do in the fairy tales, I said. By breaking the spell.
Oh, I see, said the voice. But wait a minute, Mr. Okada. You seem to think that I am Kumiko. You want to take me home as Kumiko. But what if I'm not Kumiko? What will you do then? You may be preparing to take home someone else entirely. Are you absolutely sure of what you're doing? Shouldn't you think it over one more time?
I made a fist around the flashlight in my pocket. This couldn't possibly be anyone but Kumiko, I thought. But I couldn't prove it. It was finally nothing but a hypothesis. Sweat oozed from the hand in my pocket.
I'm going to take you home, I said again, my voice dry. That's what I came here to do.
I heard movement in the sheets. She was changing her position in the bed. Can you say that for sure? Without a doubt? she asked, pressing me for confirmation. Yes, I can say it for sure. I'm going to take you home. And you have no second thoughts? No, none. My mind is made up, I said. She followed this with a long silence, as if checking on the truth of something. Then, to mark the end of this stage in our conversation, she let out a long breath. I'm going to give you a present, she said. Its not much of a present, but it may come in handy. Don't turn on the light now, but reach over here-very, very slowly-over to the night table.
I left my chair, and gauging the depth of the emptiness, I stretched my right hand out in the dark. I could feel the airs sharp thorns against my fingertips. And then I touched the thing. When I realized what it was, the air seemed to lodge in the back of my throat. The present was a baseball bat.
I took hold of the grip and held the bat out straight. It was almost certainly the bat I had taken from the young man with the guitar case. The grip and the weight were right. This had to be it. But as I felt it over more carefully, I found that there was something, some kind of debris, stuck to it just above the brand. It felt like a human hair. I took it between my fin- gertips. Judging from the thickness and hardness, it had to be a real human hair. Several such hairs were stuck to the bat, with what seemed to be congealed blood. Someone had used this bat to smash someone else-probably Noboru Wataya-in the head. It took an effort for me to expel the air caught in my throat.
That is your bat, isn't it? she asked.
Probably, I said, struggling to keep calm. My voice had begun to take on a somewhat different tone in the deep darkness, as if someone lurking down here were speaking in my place. I cleared my throat, and after checking to be sure that the one speaking was the real me, I continued: But somebody seems to have used this to beat someone.
The woman kept her mouth sealed. Sitting down, I lowered the bat and held it between my legs. I'm sure you know whats going on, I said. Somebody used this bat to crush Noboru Wataya's skull. The news I saw on TV was true. Noboru Wataya is in the hospital in critical condition. He might die.