The Part of Me That Isn't Broken Inside

by Kazufumi Shiraishi

  Hmm. I’m not so sure I agree, Eriko said, tilting her head. Until recently, Hono-chan was saying that she was going to wait for him to finish his prison term.

  Really?

  That’s right. To her, finding Raita was a miracle. That’s what she used to say all the time.

  A miracle?

  Uh-huh. Apparently it’s a miracle to her that the two of them were able to meet by chance in a world teeming with so many people; the fact that out of all the myriad possibilities, out of all the fish in the sea, the one and only Honoka came across the one and only Raita, that sort of thing. What’s important to her isn’t the type of person he is or what he’s accomplished, but rather the simple fact that the two of them happened to meet. Lately, though, her faith in such starry-eyed notions seems to be finally wearing off.

  That’s incredible! I said, laughing a little. She might have been thinking about getting married to him behind bars then.

  Maybe, Eriko said, without laughing along with me though. Instead, she went on to say, It just might be a viable life choice for her, and I don’t think she’s completely ruled it out yet.

  You’re joking, right?

  Am I? If Hono-chan were to make such a choice, well, in that case I don’t think I’d mind. In fact, I think I’d be rooting for her. Now don’t get me wrong. I do feel sorry for Prime Minister Udagawa, and I do believe that there’s no room for justifying what Raita-kun did. But still, if Raita-kun atones for his sin, then he’ll be coming back here someday, right? And when that happens, if there’s no one waiting for him, he’ll surely die.

  Hearing those words, I imagined for the first time how Raita would one day return to this world after completing his sentence. Be it fifteen years later or twenty years later, that day will surely come. And when it does, Raita will still be under forty.

  I’m not too confident about committing suicide; I think I’ll really suck at it.

  That’s what he declared with arrogant indifference during his interrogation, but what he’ll find himself really sucking at isn’t dying; instead, it’s living. The forty-year-old ex-con would surely be struck by this realization, even more than me right now.

  But I wonder why Raita-kun did such a thing? Eriko suddenly muttered. After all, it’s not as if he could go somewhere, you know.

  What are you talking about? He didn’t do it to go somewhere.

  You think? I feel he certainly wanted to go somewhere; somewhere different from here. Just like you want to.

  About halfway through our conversation I’d understood that Eriko was using Raita as a pretext to talk about me. And after hearing what she’d just said, I became convinced that she intended to finally have a showdown tonight, to settle the matter of our relationship once and for all.

  I asked Eriko, with as much restraint as I could muster, Where is it that you think that little old me wants to go?

  Locking her eyes on mine, Eriko said, Wherever you should be.

  And where’s that?

  Who knows? I haven’t a clue. But wherever that is, it’s a place you’ll never find, as long as you stay the way you are today.

  Wow! For you, that’s being vague, I said, laughing again.

  Eriko remained steely. I’m not the one being vague at all here. It’s you who’s being vague, don’t you think?

  Are you talking about our relationship? I didn’t want to say anything else. I didn’t want to get entangled in a bitter quarrel like this, not at the end of our time together.

  No, I’m not. I’m talking about you.

  But Eriko was cool and composed, like an actress who had thoroughly rehearsed her lines. This detached, lofty attitude got on my nerves.

  Exactly how am I being vague? I think it’s you who’s being rather vague here, with all your sly innuendos.

  At that point Eriko finally showed a smile. It was an edgy smile; edgy enough to slice the human heart.

  Remember what you once said? she went on. There’s nothing sadder than not having a place to go? That a person exists only when a place exists first? You also said that you didn’t believe in families. I thought, what rubbish this man says! And when you fled from my parents’ home, I was stunned that you could be so shameless. But actually, haven’t you yourself been searching all along for a place where you can belong?

  I let out a sigh. But Eriko was no longer daunted and resolutely went on to add, Even I don’t believe in families.

  I stared Eriko in the face with an unrelenting gaze.

  It suddenly occurred to me that I shouldn’t press her any further.

  But there wasn’t even a hint of hesitation or vacillation in her expression: it was so resolute it perplexed me a little.

  I’ve always longed for a place where I can belong, Eriko began. Everyone longs for such a place. You’re not the only one lost, mister. But no matter how much you seek it, how much you search for it, you can never find such a place. You could hang around with all sorts of people, but nobody is ever going to give you a place of your own. I remember you saying that you didn’t want to go anywhere because you were tired here. Well, I’d like to ask wherever on earth is this place you call here? What on earth do you mean by here, anyway? I certainly wanted a place where you and I could be together. But by that, I wasn’t saying that you and I should join forces to find such a place. Because, if one really wanted a genuine place of one’s own, one would stop looking for it; one would stop endlessly wandering about like you and make such a place—all by his or her damn self—in this very place you’re so tired of, the one you call here. I never thought about starting a family with you, not even once. It’s just that I thought the two of us could build a place where we could be comfortable together. But all you ever did was give up after looking through your self-centered eyes and despairing. You looked so pathetic and pitiful, behaving like that. I got so worried I couldn’t stand it anymore. I thought you’d surely end up leading a life of misery, if you didn’t change. And not just any kind of misery, mind you, but a misery so epic nobody has ever experienced it yet. And so that’s why I couldn’t turn a blind eye to you. I’m not the one who’s being vague. It’s you. Can’t you see? There’s never been anywhere else but here. Heaven and hell, this world and the next; they’re all here. The past and the future all happen here, and will just keep happening again from now on as well. You and I are also here, and were here before we were born, and will continue to be here after we die. I’m sure even God and the Devil are here, without ever having been anywhere else, without ever having a place to return to. There’s something I’ve always wanted to say to you; you’re always straining hard to see, looking at things with such intense scrutiny; but just where are you looking anyway? All that you can ever see, all that’s ever evident, is the world that’s where you find yourself standing, right? So what the hell are you still trying to see? If you take a good look at where you stand, and then if you lift your face and finally open your eyes wide, you’ll know that this world stretches out forever, and you’ll know that that’s all there is to see, that it’s this world itself that is the only world you can ever see, and ever should see. But you never even tried to listen to me, did you? You never even tried to imagine my point of view, my feelings! Instead, all you ever did was to try to make yourself disappear, over and over again. I didn’t dislike you, I didn’t doubt you, and last but not least, I never hated you. I loved you dearly, you know, from deep down inside my heart. I’d have done anything for you; I had my mind set on you. But all you ever did was fear me. You rejected me and fled from me, as if I were attempting to harm you. It then occurred to me that, in my life, I’ve never even once come across a person as dreadful as you.

  Eriko had started to cry midway through her story. In the nearly two years I’d known her, it was the first time she’d shed tears in front of me, for my sake.

  As I took in the sight of her on the verge of a breakdown I thought … that if I could stay together with her, in the place where she stands, there’s no telling how hap
py I could be.

  What peace of mind even I—this worthless thing needlessly born—could attain, if I could only live for a person who weeps for me in this way. Just as I’d once thought about my younger sister, just as I’d once thought about Takuya by that riverbank on that summer day, if I could abandon all of me for this person, Eriko, how wonderful that would be.

  But that was impossible, no matter what.

  They all universally preach:

  The only path to happiness is to love another more than yourself.

  But they also preach—at a much deeper level—that when you love another entity more than yourself, you must

  never love in the way you would a member of the opposite sex.

  A man must not love a woman as a woman, nor should a woman love a man as a man; men and women should love one another in the way they’d love themselves.

  This is because the love between a man and a woman will inevitably bear the fruits of misery.

  And this, in turn, is because each and every one of us living in this world, and not only me, is nothing more than the fruit of this misery.

  I was fortunate; I was able to make a firm promise to myself, on July 8th, the day when Mother abandoned me, to never repeat such a mistake. And God too secretly instructed me.

  Love another person, the supreme being said, at all times, as a parent would love their child.

  There wasn’t a single thing that was wrong in what Eriko was saying. However, if I may be permitted to say one thing in my defense, the reason I was scared of her wasn’t because I thought she was going to harm me in any way. It was just that I was afraid that I myself would surely end up harming her.

  And I’d probably hurt her enough already.

  The dishes arranged on the dining table, where we were seated across from each other, were mostly cleared away. I had a sip of the remaining wine and stood up, pushing backing my chair. Eriko looked up at me, her wet eyes starting to dry up.

  I have nothing to say to you, she said quietly.

  Averting my eyes from her gaze, I regarded for a while, in silence, the huge portrait hanging on the wall.

  I sensed that someone was trying to make me sad, yet again.

  I left the table, turning my back not on Eriko, but on this image of Eriko.

  Then I heard a gentle voice behind me again. You can’t even say goodbye.

  With my hand on the doorknob, I stood still at the door, gritted my teeth, and looked back.

  Eriko’s eyes were wet with fresh tears. When our eyes locked, she slowly stood up and began to approach me.

  An intense unease shook my entire body.

  The terror of being dragged into a jet-black darkness any moment mushroomed in my mind.

  But I couldn’t move a muscle anymore. So this is how I was going to meet my downfall, I felt, how I was going to be broken at last. Still, I was helpless, unable to do anything but wait patiently for Eriko to come.

  26

  ON MONDAY, DECEMBER 2, at 9:30 a.m., ex-Prime Minister Keiichiro Udagawa left this world, after fighting for his life for two and a half months. Even though Udagawa had released to the media a photograph of him smiling in a hospital ward, in the end, his severe wound never healed, and his last moments saw him deteriorating suddenly overnight due to a liver failure brought on by a massive blood transfusion carried out right after the tragedy, making him meet an end that was all too soon.

  It was Honoka who had informed me of Udagawa’s death. She’d suddenly reached me at my office by phone, and the first thing she said was, Sensei! It looks like Raita-san has become a murderer, after all.

  She spoke in a monotone that concealed her emotions.

  When I asked her What are you doing now? she told me that she was on her way to her part-time job. At around ten, it seems she came across the news story in an extra edition of a newspaper that was being distributed in front of Yurakucho Station. Honoka calmly read the article for me.

  Are you still going to your job? I asked. Because Udagawa’s death was so unexpected, even I was greatly upset.

  Yeah, I’m going, Honoka said. I just can’t think about anything else right now anyway. Besides, I don’t even want to.

  The presence of a bustling crowd crackled through from the other end of the line.

  What time do you get off?

  I’ve got a class to attend today, so I’m going to finish working at two.

  After that?

  I’ll just go straight to school from there. After a pause, she added, But I suppose I’ve got some free time, since the class starts from the fifth session.

  What time does the fifth session start?

  4:20.

  In that case I’ll drop by the university at about three. Let’s have some tea.

  Are you sure that’s okay?

  Yeah, I don’t mind.

  All right then. I’ll wait for you in front of the main gate.

  Honoka hung up. Throughout the entire conversation, there was no indication that she was upset. In fact, she seemed strangely calm. This bugged me.

  Last week, Raita’s first public trial had just begun.

  I moved heaven and earth to secure two passes to the court hearing.

  After Raita appeared in court, I believe he clearly recognized Honoka and me seated in the central section of the visitors’ gallery, as he made his way across the short distance from the dock to the witness stand. Although there was no change in his facial expression, we sensed that he’d recognized us when our eyes met his for an instant: they appeared to flicker with intent. Contrary to what the news had been broadcasting, Raita didn’t appear haggard, nor did he seem mentally unstable. Even though he made his replies in a low voice during the proceedings, he remained composed, clearly denying any intent to kill the ex-prime minister.

  After the court adjourned, Honoka and I decided to separate from each other, just to be safe. She left first and slipped away from the crowd of reporters swarming in front of the Tokyo District Court. We met up at a hotel in Akasaka to have lunch together.

  At that time, Honoka had said, I guess if Prime Minister Udagawa recovers now, the sentence probably wouldn’t be that severe, especially since Raita-san has denied the intent to kill. Besides, he just turned twenty.

  After reiterating such sentiments, she said, And he wasn’t strange or unsound at all.

  It had been a while since I’d seen Honoka looking cheerful, and while I gazed on at that radiant look of hers, I reaffirmed the strong bond that existed between Raita and Honoka. This bond was sufficiently evident even from Raita’s unflinching, steely expression, though—an expression that didn’t allow him to even twitch an eyebrow when he saw her.

  Buoyed with such high hopes, Honoka must have been all the more devastated by the news of Udagawa’s death.

  Eriko simply believed that Honoka would recover with the passage of time, but I didn’t see it that way. Regardless of the depth of her connection to Raita, one of her temperament doesn’t recover that easily from such a great shock. To put it in Raita’s terms, Eriko and Honoka fundamentally differ by the thickness of the cord linking them to this world. And for this reason, it must be difficult for Eriko to understand Honoka.

  When I got off from the taxi at exactly three, I saw Honoka standing by Keio’s main gate. Before I even began to approach her she came rushing over to me. Although we hadn’t talked properly that year, I immediately felt the vibes of the precious intimacy of friendship. It occurred to me then that this person had still been a fifteen-year old girl when I first met her.

  Phew, that’s a relief, Honoka said, looking at me with a slight smile.

  What is?

  Oh, I just thought that Eriko-san might be coming along as well.

  Did you call her?

  Honoka shook her head.

  In that case, she might not have even heard the news yet. Besides, she said she’d be in the studio all day long.

  Shall we? Honoka said, taking my hand.

  After we enter
ed through the gate Honoka took me on a brief guided stroll through the campus. With the end of the year approaching and the classes still in session, the premises were deserted. Giant ginkgo trees were planted here and there, lush with yellow foliage. The paths were filled with vast amounts of fallen leaves, as if a yellow carpet had been unfurled all over the campus.

  Aren’t Keio’s gingkoes great? Honoka said. It seems every year the cleaning people have a hard time, with all the autumn leaves piling up like this. And since ginkgo leaves can’t be repurposed as fertilizers, they have no option but to throw them all away, apparently.

  Stepping firmly on the ginkgo leaves, I remembered Machiko-san boiling them to prepare a tea substitute, which she used to drink often.

  After walking around the small campus for approximately fifteen minutes, we entered a cafeteria called Fiesta in the basement of the northern wing of the school building. I bought coffee and Honoka bought a plastic bottle of oolong tea before we settled down at a table in the back. The large cafeteria was quiet, with just a sprinkling of students seated here and there. The window on the left only afforded a view of the protruding section of the concave school building, but the faint rays of the already setting winter sun were reaching all the way up to the timeworn wooden table where we were seated. Behind me, I could hear a male student slurping up soba noodles. In front was a middle-aged woman, wearing an apron and a hood, eagerly wiping up rows of tables. On the white wall at the right was found a poster advertising a co-op’s Driver’s Ed program and another poster advertising CD and DVD bargain sales.

  I took one sip of the lukewarm coffee and asked, So you always have your meals here?

  Honoka was drinking her tea, which she’d poured from the plastic bottle into a plastic teacup.

  Yes, I usually have my lunches here, since it’s cheap.

  Like set meals?

  Well, set meals are a bit too pricey, and they contain a lot of meats and fish in them, so …

  About how much do they cost?

  More than four hundred yen. I just make do with small dishes like boiled spinach with dressing or croquette or burdock salad and try to keep my food expenses under four hundred yen as much as possible. Most of us girls around here get by like that.