Death by Water

by Kenzaburo Oe

  I was forced to admit (although only to myself) that there were some gaps in my knowledge of the local topography these days. “Your mother was saying that when she was making her movie, your knowledge of the entire forest area made location scouting and filming much easier,” I said. “I gather you’re serious about making a career of forestry work?”

  Tamakichi nodded. “I am,” he said. “You had the same inclination when you were a child, didn’t you, Uncle Kogito? You mentioned it in a couple of your books. Anyhow, long before we started working on the movie, the local village board had been doing a lot of maintenance work on the Saya and the surrounding area. Then when filming began there was a ‘no men allowed’ rule in effect, so my male colleagues and I were relegated to doing cleanup and postproduction work. I’ve never even seen the finished movie.”

  “Didn’t you at least get to watch the daily rushes on video, to see how your carefully tended forest came across on film?”

  “No, not really,” Tamakichi replied. “We asked the NHK office in Matsuyama whether that would be possible, and when nothing came of our request we tried contacting the main office of the American production company. They said we would need to submit a request in English, and at that point we just gave up. However, it was really something to have so many local women gathered in one place, and it turned into a kind of giant party or festival. Everyone agreed that the Gathering, as it came to be known, was the biggest women-only event since the famous insurrection. Now whenever people get together at the Saya to celebrate the fall colors or the cherry blossoms someone will always yell, ‘Hurray for the Gathering!’ and that’s the signal for everyone to take a drink.”

  “‘The Gathering,’ eh? I’ll drink to that!” I said with feeling.

  The forest road we were traveling on passed through a rather sparsely wooded area of broadleaf trees, but soon after crossing a gentle mountain ridge we came upon a lofty wall of cypress and cryptomeria trees, nearly as old as I was, that completely covered the long hill sloping down to the northeast. As we drove along the tree-shadowed road I was reminded of a day in my childhood when all the students at the new postwar middle school I attended were rounded up to participate in a mandatory horticultural project: planting tiny saplings to create the very trees we were looking at now.

  By and by we arrived at the uppermost border of the Saya, and Tamakichi stopped the truck. Below us I could see a large rock that looked like an old-fashioned boat, if a boat had somehow become embedded in a grassy meadow. My eyes were drawn to a small stream at the bottom of the hill. On the edge of the little brook I spied some signs of human life: Akari was lying on the faded brown grass and Unaiko was sitting next to him, hugging her knees. Tamakichi and I went charging down the slope, heading straight for that spot.

  Akari and Unaiko must surely have noticed our approach, but they didn’t react in any visible way. Unaiko, especially, looked completely shell-shocked and tuckered out. As we drew closer we could hear a CD playing—it was Schubert’s piano quintet, the Trout—but then I saw Akari reaching toward the sound system, and the music stopped in mid-trill.

  Unaiko spoke first. “I’m so sorry for causing such a ruckus,” she apologized. “It seemed like a much more serious attack than the kind Asa had told me to expect and I panicked, thinking it might be a new problem. I mean, Akari’s entire body was in the throes of major convulsions.”

  “Akari, the seizure’s over now, right?” I asked gently. Akari didn’t reply, but his body language seemed to be saying, You can see perfectly well that it is.

  “It happened a few minutes after we got here,” Unaiko said. “We parked the car as usual, and right after we’d started walking, we came upon a puddle left over from last night’s rainstorm. We weren’t able to cross it by holding hands, and Akari was a bit nervous about that. We did somehow manage to get across, one at a time, but a moment later he took a tumble. I thought at first he was lying there for fun, laughing in relief, but then I realized that wasn’t the case.” (It was a natural mistake; the expression Akari wore when he was being stoic about pain could easily be mistaken for mirth.) “Anyway, he got up again, and we kept on walking. The seizure happened just as we reached the Saya, and I’m afraid I kind of lost it.”

  “In a situation like this, the best remedy for Akari is to lie down and get some rest,” I said. “Akari, do you want to use the restroom before we head back to the Forest House?”

  When Akari didn’t reply, Unaiko picked up on the fact that my son was once again giving me the cold shoulder, and she jumped into the chilly void.

  “Asa told me to watch out for the loose bowels that often accompany this type of episode,” she said. “We’ve already dealt with that issue, but Akari was upset because he didn’t have a change of trousers or underwear.”

  As I handed the emergency bag to Unaiko, I noticed that the lower part of Akari’s body was covered by a large shawl, which I recognized as Unaiko’s. Her jacket was draped on top for good measure.

  “If the road to the valley is too muddy to drive on, my truck is up the hill, and we can go back in that,” Tamakichi offered. “I’d be glad to carry Akari to where it’s parked.”

  “No, I want to go home in Unaiko’s van,” Akari declared.

  “You might fall again,” I pointed out.

  “I’ll carry him on my back, so that won’t happen,” Tamakichi said.

  “Okay then,” I said to Akari. “Since the worst is over, there’s no big hurry to get back. Let’s rest here for a while longer before we go.”

  “Tamakichi, thank you so much for coming to the rescue,” Unaiko said. “I got your cell-phone number from your mom, and … I hate to impose on you even more, but is there any chance of getting a guided tour as long as you’re here? You seem to know a lot about forestry, and I’d love to hear about the trees around the Saya.”

  “That’s the easiest request I’ve had all day!” Tamakichi said happily.

  “Oh, and also, I heard that during the filming you were responsible for turning the big, flat rock into a stage, so I’m assuming you must have had a chance to read the screenplay?” Unaiko asked rhetorically. “It would be great if I could pick your brain about that, too.”

  Tamakichi looked somewhat taken aback by this additional request—or perhaps he was just feeling shy in the presence of an attractive woman—but he nodded, and he and Unaiko set off toward the Saya. Akari had changed into clean clothes behind a nearby tree and was once again reclining on the grass, so I lay down nearby (being careful not to intrude on his space) using the indispensable emergency bag as a pillow.

  Gazing upward, I saw that the branches of the trees encircling the Saya were aglow with fresh new leaves of yellowish green, dull red, and every shade in between. I couldn’t be certain from a distance, but there might have been some subtle buds beginning to form as well. Even the mountain cherries looked as though they might be on the brink of bursting into a pale canopy of blossoms over the next few days. Beyond the cherry orchard was a dense backdrop of evergreen trees. They were younger than the tall trees we had seen on the mountain ridge on our way here, but the varieties were the same: the Japanese iterations of cypress and cedar (also known as cryptomeria).

  As I was swiveling my head around, I noticed that the bag beneath it felt somehow higher and bulkier than it should have. When I sat up and peered inside, I saw that Akari’s soiled trousers had been stuffed into a trash sack and that bundle (along with a summer blanket I’d added to the emergency kit as I was leaving the house) was taking up a great deal of space. I took out the blanket and went over to where Akari was lying down, then spread it over him from neck to toes. He didn’t move a muscle in response and he kept both palms in place, completely covering his large face.

  As I was walking back to my own space, a line of poetry floated through my mind: You didn’t get Kogii ready….

  I could see now, more clearly than ever, that “Kogii” was meant to signify Akari. I saw, too, that I was the person—r
ight here, right now—whose job it would be to send him into the forest when the time came. But how was I supposed to go about laying the groundwork for that inevitable process? I hadn’t even begun to make my own preparations for the next step; how on earth was I supposed to facilitate the transition for someone else? I didn’t have a clue. In essence I was still a powerless child, just as I was in the days when everyone called me Kogii. And what about the other long-departed Kogii—the elusive doppelgänger who abandoned me and wafted up into the forest, where the trees meet the sky? If he could look down and see me in my current state of confused fragility, he would probably find it hard to keep from laughing out loud.

  By and by another thought drifted across my mind. In a few minutes Unaiko and Tamakichi (who was, of course, doing whatever he could to be of use to her as a stand-in for his absent mother) would be returning from their tour of the Saya, chummier than ever. At some point those two would probably induct Akari into their inner circle as well. And then wasn’t it conceivable that the three of them would somehow get together and conspire to do whatever was necessary to get me (yes, me) ready for my own final journey up into the forest? In that case, perhaps they would help me find a way to conduct myself appropriately during the transition and to move on to the next stage with a measure of ease.

  Then I was struck by an even more radical thought: maybe what I had been perceiving as reality all along was nothing but a dream, or an illusion! I thought about everything I had labored so hard to accomplish after moving to Tokyo: all the endless striving, studying, thinking, and writing. Putting aside the question of whether I had accomplished anything worthwhile, what if those eventful years and those supposed achievements were nothing more than figments of my imagination? Suppose that in reality I never even left this village and had been living here all along, from birth until now: my seventy-fourth year. If that were true, I would no doubt be casually getting ready to die a perfectly ordinary death, in the traditional way the old people in this mountain valley surely know by heart, or in their bones. Indeed (I mused, half dreaming) at this very moment Unaiko and Tamakichi could be standing in the shadow of the great meteoric boulder at the top of the slope, talking about how they could help to facilitate my preparations for moving on to the next great adventure …

  “Mr. Choko?” My eyes snapped open and I saw Unaiko hovering over me, looking down with a solicitous expression. “If you go on snoozing out here in the open air, you’re going to catch a cold! I mean, I certainly understand how you could be so worn out that you’d need a big nap, after the stress I put you through with the hysterical phone call and all.”

  The newly returned twosome soon shifted their attention from me to Akari. Being very careful not to hurt Akari’s back, Tamakichi pulled his cousin to his feet and lifted him into a piggyback position. Tamakichi was a bit shorter than I was, but he was exceptionally strong and muscular from the physical labor of forestry work, and after getting Akari’s considerably larger body snugly ensconced on his back, he loped easily off toward the parking area where Unaiko had left the van. She and I followed a moment later, each carrying some components of the Caveman Group’s professional-quality (but still portable, barely) sound system.

  “Tamakichi was telling me about the women Asa brought together at the Saya and how excited they were about being a part of the movie,” Unaiko said as we tramped along. Her weariness appeared to have abated and she sounded even more energized than usual. “When I remarked that supervising such a large group must have been a challenging task, Tamakichi said his mother had told him that the women around here seemed to feel as if they, too, were taking part in an insurrection of sorts, and she was able to coax them into letting those feelings out for the first time in a long while. I’m sure there was probably more to it, but Meisuke’s Mother Marches Off to War seems to have been an unforgettable experience for everyone who took part in the project.”

  By the time we got to Unaiko’s van, Tamakichi had already set Akari down and was about to head up to the place above the Saya where he had left his truck. Unaiko thanked my nephew again and again for his help, and then we said our good-byes.

  2

  That afternoon there was a phone call from Maki. Apparently Asa (who was spending all her time at the hospital with Chikashi) was concerned about Akari’s recent episode and had asked Maki to call and find out how things were going. I suggested that Maki ask Akari directly, and I carried the cordless handset into his room. After what seemed to be a long, leisurely conversation, Akari brought the phone back to me. Maki was still on the other line, and she proceeded to tell me about her chat with her brother.

  First, she had told Akari how worried she had been when she heard that he’d had a major seizure deep in the forest, when Papa wasn’t on hand to help. Akari’s response was to paraphrase a quotation from the My Own Words booklet. (He, too, had received a copy from Maki, and since he wasn’t currently engaged in reading musical scores he was probably applying his customary concentration to perusing the little book instead.)

  “‘Cause I’m gonna die! Ahhh! I can’t hear my heart beating, even a little bit! I really think I’m dying! My heart isn’t making any sound at all!”

  Maki knew that those mock histrionics were Akari’s idea of a joke, but even so, she responded to his concerns point by point in complete seriousness.

  “No, Akari, you aren’t going to die,” she said. “The seizure is over now, isn’t it? I guess when you collapsed in the forest, you could probably hear your heart pounding very loudly, right? But don’t worry, it doesn’t mean you’re going to die. And there isn’t any danger when your heart is beating so quietly that you can’t hear it, either.”

  Akari had responded with a calmer and more positive remark, which was also an echo of something from My Own Words: “The seizure really hurt a lot, but I hung in there!”

  Although Akari was ostensibly talking about his seizure, Maki thought there was a distinct undertone of apprehension about his mother’s illness as well. After assuring Akari that there was no need to worry since his seizure was safely in the past, she added that Mama had come through her surgery very well and was already on the road to recovery.

  But when Maki said that, Akari suddenly began to shout something that sounded like a parody or at least a paraphrase of some of the quotations in My Own Words: “No, no, Mama is already dead! Oh, wait, you say she’ll be coming home in two or three weeks? Okay, that’s good, but even if she comes home then, right now she’s dead! Mama is really dead!”

  Maki thought that was Akari’s oblique way of showing his true feelings. “Before Mama went into the hospital, she asked you to write down Akari’s quotes from your novels, including the parts where he was somehow conflating his father’s long absence with the idea of death, right?” she said. “It seemed kind of weird that Mama would make such a request at a time when she was dealing with a health crisis of her own, but I think she was just trying to imagine how Akari might respond to the death of one of his parents. Mama knows most of Akari’s quotes by heart, so I’d like to hear her play a game with Akari sometime when they talk on the phone. It could be a sort of call and response. Maybe Akari could say, ‘Mama was in a very bad way, but she pulled through!’ and Mama could respond by saying, ‘Thank you very much—with your support I’ll keep hanging in there and doing my best!’”

  Late that night, I got a call from Asa. She had finished her duties at the hospital and was about to take an Odakyu Line train back to my house in Tokyo, where she was staying.

  “Today I asked Chikashi whether she might want me to arrange for Unaiko and Ricchan to look after Akari while you made a trip up here to visit her in the hospital,” she began. “But Chikashi said that after all your years together, and all the joy and sadness you’ve shared, she was afraid it would be too hard on you to see your aged wife in such a weakened state, and rather than being able to comfort her, she was worried you might fall into depression or even start blubbering—we laughed at that—an
d she would need to prop you up instead! (By the way, I was very impressed by her efforts to be sprightly and humorous, making a literary allusion to the famous parable about a devoted old Chinese couple and so on.)

  “Seriously, though, I think Chikashi has a valid point. I know that when her brother, Goro, jumped off a building and she had to go to the police station to identify his badly damaged body, she was able to look at it without flinching or turning away. But later, when you went to the wake at Goro’s house down in Yugawara and his widow wanted you to view the body, Chikashi said she thought it would be better if you didn’t, even though by then Goro’s face had been restored to its usual handsome state. She understands better than anyone that you tend to be squeamish about such things.

  “On top of that, Chikashi said, ‘In my husband’s current mood I don’t think the kind of visit you’re suggesting is even in the realm of possibility. Ever since he stopped working on the drowning novel he’s been floundering around, and he totally lost control and called his mentally disabled son an idiot—not once, but twice. I know he was annoyed and upset about something on both occasions, but there is simply no excuse for that kind of behavior. No one is angrier at him than Maki, and I’ve been afraid that the tension between those two might come to a head at some point. That’s partly why I recommended that my husband and son go down to Shikoku together, on the assumption that Papa was serious about wanting to take the initiative in patching things up. Not so much for Akari, but for that man, I think reaching some kind of détente with his estranged son should be the first priority right now.’ Anyhow, that’s what Chikashi said. I have to admit I cringed when she referred to you as ‘that man’ again—it just sounds so cold—but on the positive side, she did call you ‘Papa’ once or twice as well.

  “Kogii, one thing that fills me with hope is knowing Unaiko and Ricchan will be at the Forest House with you and Akari most of the time. As you know, I truly believe Unaiko is a genius. I’m not saying she’s a towering intellectual or anything, but even if you take her out of the theatrical milieu where she shines so brightly, she’s still a genius. Her special gift is the way she tries to think everything through on her own, in a completely original way, and I’m sure she’ll bring the same approach to bear on the situation between you and Akari. No matter what happens, I’m confident she’ll be a good influence on you. Because she has such a strong sense of certainty about her own beliefs I think she’ll be a reliable touchstone, much as a straightedge helps a carpenter keep things properly lined up.”