The Perfect World of Miwako Sumida

by Clarissa Goenawan

  “Is that a path?” she asked.

  “Looks like it,” he said, picking up his pace.

  They followed the newfound trail, and a few minutes later, Chie stopped in awe.

  Before them lay a deep valley, filled with colorful trees. Vibrant yellow and orange autumn leaves peeked out from the fog. It was like they were standing at the top of the world. Across the valley stood a majestic shrine.

  “Hey Ryusei,” Chie said, turning to face him. “If the goddess of earth had a palace, I imagine it would be that shrine.”

  He mumbled in agreement. “The village should be on the other side of the valley too.”

  “How do we get to it?”

  “Good question.” He squinted and pointed in the distance. “Is that a bridge?”

  Chie strained her eyes. Finally, she caught a faint outline of a rope bridge. “I think so.”

  They trod carefully along a narrow pathway at the side of the valley. Chie was exhausted, but the view had rejuvenated her, and the prospect of not having to spend the night in the forest made her feel better. As they got closer, she noticed the bridge was made from chipped, mossy wooden planks and fraying ropes.

  Chie took a deep breath. “Is this the only way to get there?”

  “If we’re willing to walk quite a bit farther, there might be another path down through the valley,” Ryusei said. “But that could take half a day or more. This is all we have for now.”

  She swallowed. The bridge didn’t look safe to cross. The fog made it impossible to see what was underneath, but it seemed like one wrong step meant a plunge into the abyss. Had Miwako mentioned the bridge at all? No, Chie was sure she never had.

  Ryusei passed Chie her rucksack. “I’ll go first. You hold on to your things. If something happens to me, don’t panic. Stay here for the night. Tomorrow morning, after the fog is gone, go find help.”

  His words made her more nervous. “No, let’s go together.”

  “The bridge looks old. If both of us fall, who’s going to get help?”

  “If you’re not here, I won’t survive the night.”

  Ryusei laughed. “Even so, I think it’s better for one person to go at a time. Less of a burden on the bridge.”

  Again, she could see the logic in his proposal, but she didn’t want to be left alone.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

  Before Chie could protest again, Ryusei stepped onto the bridge. She wanted to tell him to be careful, but the words stuck in her throat. Left with no choice, she watched him carefully cross. After what felt like hours, he reached the other side of the valley.

  “It’s good,” he shouted. “Walk slowly, one step at a time.”

  Chie took a deep breath and grabbed her bag. She gently lay her fingers on the well-worn ropes. They were cold to the touch, wet with condensation from the fog. Each wooden plank shifted with her next step, and the gaps between them were uneven. Chie tried to avoid the gaps, but she couldn’t help looking down through each one, heart racing.

  As she was about to reach the end of the bridge, Ryusei extended his hand and she took it with relief.

  “You did it,” he said.

  “I did.” Chie took a deep breath and started to laugh. “This is crazy. What are we doing here?”

  He looked ahead. “It’s all right, let’s get moving. I hope we haven’t crossed over to nowhere.”

  Feeling better, Chie walked next to Ryusei. They went up to the shrine, which appeared deserted. A musty odor hung in the air. The pillars’ paintwork had faded and chipped, and the building’s wooden features had surrendered to the elements. There were cobwebs everywhere.

  “Shall we go in?” Chie asked.

  “Maybe not,” Ryusei said. “Shrines are sacred, and some aren’t open to outsiders. I’d rather not get into trouble.” He looked around. “Also, I don’t see a gate. I don’t think this is the main entrance.”

  They made their way around to the other side. There was wild grass growing all over the yard. The stone pathway was slippery because of the damp moss and wet fallen leaves. Chie felt the fog fill her lungs.

  Not long after, they found a giant torii at the opposite end of the shrine. Farther down, a steep flight of stone stairs led to a broad slope where the village sat. In the mist, Kitsuyama appeared to float atop a cloud.

  The cluster of traditional houses looked like it was lifted straight from an ukiyo-e painting. At first glance, the clinic where Miwako Sumida had volunteered looked exactly like the other houses in the village, only bigger. The single clue as to its function was a small wooden sign in the front yard that read happy clinic.

  “Excuse me,” Chie called. “Is anyone in?”

  “Just a moment,” someone replied.

  A frail middle-aged woman in an indigo kimono appeared.

  “Good evening,” said Ryusei. “We’re looking for Miss Sugi.”

  “That’s me,” the woman said.

  He bowed to her, clearly not expecting a doctor to be wearing a traditional garment instead of the usual white coat. “I’m Ryusei Yanagi. We’ve corresponded before.”

  “Yes, you said you wished to volunteer for a few days.” She looked at Chie. “And this young lady must be Miss Ohno.”

  Chie bowed to Miss Sugi. “Yes, good evening. I’m Chie Ohno.”

  “Our apologies for arriving on such short notice,” Ryusei said.

  “Don’t worry about that. We have plenty of rooms here, and I always welcome the help. I should be the one thanking you for coming all the way from Tokyo.” Miss Sugi gestured for them to come in. “You must be exhausted from the journey. Have you had dinner?”

  “Not yet, but please don’t trouble yourself,” Chie said, trying to ignore her growling stomach.

  “Oh, it’s no trouble at all. There’s leftover food in the kitchen. You only need to reheat it.”

  Stepping into the building, Chie took a good look at the interior. It had been a while since she’d last seen a house with tatami flooring and paper screens, though the place was definitely in need of restoration. The tatami mats were frayed, and there were water patches all over the yellowing ceiling.

  “Do you want two separate rooms?” Miss Sugi asked.

  “Yes,” Ryusei said.

  Chie blushed on hearing the question. Do we look like a couple? She knew for sure that he wasn’t her type, and she was almost certainly not his either. He was far too serious for her liking, and if he’d fallen for Miwako, he probably considered Chie too flashy.

  Miss Sugi slid open a screen door to reveal a small room. “One of you can stay here, and the other can use the room next door. There are folded mattresses inside the cupboard.”

  “Why don’t you look at the other room first?” Ryusei said. “See which one you prefer.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Chie said. “I’m sure they’re the same. I can take this one.”

  “The bath is at the end of the hallway,” Miss Sugi said. “I’ll heat up your food.”

  They thanked Miss Sugi, and the older woman left. Chie felt so relieved knowing they would be sleeping with full stomachs and a roof over their heads. With a slight smile, she admired the building’s stained wood structure.

  “This place is charming, isn’t it?” she said to Ryusei. “I’ve always wanted to stay in a traditional house.”

  He smiled. “You’re such a city girl.”

  “Is that a thing?” she said, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, do you mind? I need to change.”

  Ryusei left the room and Chie closed the door behind him.

  The wall separating their quarters was so thin, she felt awkward. She could hear Ryusei enter his room, drop his bag, and take out his clothes, as if they were sharing the same space.

  Sighing, Chie wondered what awaited them in this quiet, distant place.
<
br />   11

  The

  Little

  Man

  Barely a year had passed after the episode with Miyuta when “The Colorful Days of a High School Girl” was again threatened for its top ranking. This time, the shift happened gradually. The new contender was a diary called “Dirty Tales,” written by someone under the pseudonym MK.

  Chie had read thousands of entries by people from different walks of life, but “Dirty Tales” blew them all away. It was nothing like she had ever seen. The first diary entry was strange, but for some reason, it drew her in. She knew that before long, her own diary would be outranked.

  Dirty Tales - Entry 01.

  Tonight, I had a visitor. A little man, so small he could creep through the gap under the door and enter my room. Illuminated by the moonlight, he climbed into my bed. He went under the blankets, in between my legs, and made his way inside me. He danced and danced there, despite my protests. But when morning came, he was gone. All that was left was a trail, tiny red footsteps all the way from my privates to the bedroom door.

  Chie quickly closed the zine and pushed it away from her. The words had made her shudder. What kind of person had written this? MK’s entry was accompanied by a photo of a cup of steaming coffee. Compared to Chiyo’s—a cute illustration of a bear Chie had painstakingly drawn—MK’s was common. Of course, she knew MK could just as well be a perverted old man with a bulging stomach over his belt.

  Whatever. I shouldn’t concern myself with things like this.

  Yet Chie found herself more and more drawn into MK’s world, unable to resist her unsettling appeal. There was something in her writing, something Chie couldn’t put into words. MK’s diary wasn’t just a collection of imaginative stories. It was the ultimate in strangeness.

  Dirty Tales - Entry 07.

  Today I spoke with the little man. I asked why he loves to dance inside me. There are so many others like me in the world—why me? He gave a little laugh. “Are you stupid or what, silly girl? Hehehe. I live just next door. You are the nearest, and just the right size for me. Hehehe.” After saying that, he entered me, and this time, he did a wild prance. It hurt, but I kept quiet. I knew better than to say anything.

  Chie couldn’t imagine where MK had gotten the idea to write about a little man who danced inside her every night. It wasn’t something just anyone would think up. MK kept writing about him, and, subconsciously, Chie started to wonder if the little man was real.

  At night, she felt uneasy. What if the little man slipped through the gap under her bedroom door and crawled into her too?

  Dirty Tales - Entry 13.

  The little man was angry today. He was enraged. He tied me up to the bed frame using the phone cord. My wrists hurt, so I protested. “Shut up and spread your legs, silly girl,” he shouted. “Wider, wider! Hehehe. Wider, wider, that’s not wide enough! Hehehe.” I told him he was too loud, that he would wake everyone up. He laughed again. “No one is here. No one is going to help you, silly girl. Hehehe. It will always be just the two of us, so you better get used to me. Hehehe.” His laughter echoed in the room and continued to ring in my ears. Whenever I closed my eyes, I heard him laughing. Hehehe. Silly girl, wider, wider!

  Chie felt her heartbeat race upon reading it. Every night, she thought about the little man and his sinister laughter. She had to stop reading these entries. They were affecting her in an unnatural way, but she still couldn’t resist. She was addicted to MK’s diary. She had trouble sleeping at night and started losing weight. Despite Chie putting on more makeup, her face looked pale.

  “Are you sick?” her boyfriend asked when he came to see her during free period.

  “No, I’m fine,” she said. “Probably too much television and not enough sleep.”

  “You’re looking thinner lately.”

  She mustered a smile. “Is that so? Then you’ll have to feed me more. Let’s go for ice cream after school?”

  “Ah, okay. Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to come over later? My mother is working late today.”

  “Sure,” she said without skipping a beat.

  Chie knew what that meant. They always slept together when she went to his place. But what she didn’t expect was for her boyfriend to take out the latest volume of The Secret Diaries after they had sex. She hadn’t even read hers yet.

  “What’s that?” she asked, peering over his shoulder as he flipped through the pages.

  “It’s a zine,” he explained, reading none other than MK’s diary. “You know, one of those indie magazines they sell for cheap. This one is pretty cool. They publish a bunch of people’s diaries.”

  “What kind of people?”

  “Anyone, I suppose,” he said, shrugging. “As long as you subscribe to the zine, you can fill in the form with your entry and send it to them. If they like what you’ve written, they’ll include it in the next volume. A few of the entries are pretty terrible, but the good ones are really addictive.”

  Chie continued to feign ignorance. “But doesn’t that defeat the purpose of having a diary? You’re supposed to write your secrets in a diary, not publish them for the whole world.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Come on, these are totally anonymous. No one would ever know it was you. That’s the fun part.”

  “Do you ever send in anything?”

  “I used to,” he said and laughed. “I pretended to be an office lady, tried to come up with some steamy fantasy, but I lost interest after a while. It’s hard to write about something you don’t really know.”

  “But you still read other people’s diaries?”

  He whispered into her ear, “I guess it appeals to my voyeuristic side.”

  She nodded. “Voyeuristic.”

  “Some of them are pretty interesting, like this one. You should read this.” He moved aside to give her a better view of the zine. “This girl, MK, writes about the most bizarre thing. A perverted little man who enters her body and dances inside her every night.”

  “Isn’t that kind of creepy and gross?”

  Her boyfriend laughed again. “You don’t need to take it so seriously. But this girl, she’s fascinating. Her entries are different.”

  “What makes you so sure it’s a girl?” Chie scooped up her uniform from the floor.

  “I’m pretty sure.” He pointed to the photograph accompanying MK’s entry. “This is a real photograph. Do you see that hand? It’s too delicate to be a man’s.”

  Chie looked at the image as she put on her clothes. A hand holding a cup of coffee. The cup was the same as the one in MK’s first entry, but the watch on the wrist looked familiar. Chie tried to recall where she had seen it.

  Where was it? Remember, Chie. Try to remember.

  Ah, it was in the girls’ bathroom at school. A short-haired girl had washed her hands, wearing the exact same watch as the one in the photograph. But that girl wasn’t someone she knew, and she could no longer recall her face. Were they in the same year? Chie had no idea, but she knew she had to find her.

  “What are you staring at?” her boyfriend asked.

  “Nothing,” she said, picking up her bag. “I have to go.”

  “Let me walk you home.”

  She shook her head. “No need to go through the trouble.”

  “Well, if you insist.”

  Her boyfriend turned to the next page. Of course, the second was Chie’s diary.

  “What about the rest of the entries?” Chie asked, curious. “Like this one. ‘The Colorful Days of a High School Girl.’”

  “Ah, that one.” Her boyfriend frowned. “It used to be the most popular. I was a big fan. For some reason, I thought the girl was a student at our school.” He glanced at Chie. “At one point, I even suspected she might be you.”

  Chie rolled her eyes.

  “But it’s so unlike you to read a cheap indie zi
ne,” he said.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. “So you like this entry?”

  “Not anymore.” He scratched his head. “How can I put it? Compared to ‘Dirty Tales,’ it’s kind of . . .”

  “Colorless?”

  “Yeah, something like that. It’s plain.”

  Chie was hurt, but she tried not to let it show. Forcing a smile, she said, “I really have to go now, or my mother will get worried. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She kissed him and left his house, but his words followed her.

  Even my invented colorful diary pales in comparison. Next to “Dirty Tales,” it becomes colorless.

  All along, Chie had known this, but hearing it from someone else’s mouth was different. It was like someone had thrust a knife into her heart and put their full body weight onto it, then twisted it around. What kind of person could MK be to render everyone else colorless?

  Chie’s search for MK began with curiosity, but soon spiraled into an obsession.

  I want to find her. No, I need to find her.

  In the weeks that followed, that was the only thing on Chie’s mind. She spent her days looking for girls with short hair and glasses and checking their wrists, even ones she knew couldn’t possibly be MK. Anyway, who could MK be? Anyone, supposedly, but Chie was sure there was something about her. Something special—something she didn’t have, something that pulled everyone in.

  Weeks went by, and Chie still hadn’t found MK. Staring at the sky from her school’s rooftop, she wondered if she had been mistaken. Perhaps her memory was muddled. She’d never even gotten a good look at the watch. Or perhaps the girl had stopped wearing it? It really was too big for her, anyway.

  Forget it, I’ll never find her.