by Kei Oishi
realized that her hands were tied behind her back. Her mouth was full of the coppery taste oi her blood.
“Why … why?” she moaned, while looking at her surroundings. Her once-white dress was stained a bloody black-red from the chest to the stomach. The knee-length hem of her dress was hiked up around her upper thighs, and her right knee was skinned and bloodied. Her left leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, and her shiny stockings were torn. She thought her leg might be broken. The liquid that ran into her eyes and stung them was most likely her own blood.
“Why?” Kayako asked again.
“Why?!” howled Takeo, who was standing dominantly over her. “Ask yourself that question, you whore!”
Kayako, completely confused, looked around once more.
Kayako’s rear end was flat on the floor with her upper body leaning on the bed behind her. Her hands seemed to be twisted behind her, and tied with a rope or something to one of the legs of the bed. She pulled with all her might, but only succeeded in dragging the heavy bed on the floor a bit.
“So, Kayako, are you going to tell me?” said her husband, still standing in front of her. “Tell me whose kid Toshio is.”
“Huh? What?” Kayako asked, not understanding what her husband was asking.
“I’m asking who Toshio’s father is, you bitch,” shouted Takeo. Kayako shuddered at his voice.
“Whose child? Why, he’s yours, of course,” Kayako shook her aching head from side to side. “Who else’s would he … ?”
“Don’t fuck with me,” Takeo spat before she could finish her sentence. He slapped her face with his right palm.
“Ah!”
Her face was turned completely to the side from the force of the blow, and the blood that had been flowing down her forehead spattered.
“Stop! Please stop! Please tell me what’s going on! I’m so confused!”
In response, Takeo’s right fist smashed into his wife’s left eye. She heard a sickening crunch as her bones were mashed, and things went black, but mercy was not on her side. Kayako didn’t pass out. Her face was slapped from both sides again, and Kayako opened her dim eyes.
“How long did you think you could keep this hidden from me?” demanded Takeo as he thrust out the brown scrapbook in front of Kayako’s face.
“That’s mine,” gasped Kayako. She felt herself blush out of embarrassment, in spite of the situation she was in.
“Don’t look at it! Give it back,” shouted Kayako, dragging the bed on the floor again as she tried to move forward. “Don’t read that! Please give it back!”
But Kayako’s reaction only served to heighten her husband’s anger.
“Shut up,” he growled as his right fist dug into her abdomen.
“Ugh.”
Kayako felt the blow all the way through to her spine, and her slender body bent in half. In addition to the great suffering, she also tasted her bitter stomach bile in her mouth. Her tears blurred her vision.
“Do you really think I’m that stupid? Kayako, Toshio’s real father is that Kobayashi guy, isn’t he?! That’s why you took the character from Shunsuke to name your kid Toshio, isn’t it?”
Her husband was ranting and raving above her head, but it was all Kayako could do to stand the pain in her stomach, and she could not lift her head to face him.
“You had me going for years, there. Shit. I was so stupid!”
“No. That’s not true. No … “
Kayako tried to explain to her husband. But, as Kayako was normally not very talkative, she couldn’t find the right words to plead her innocence to her husband.
“No. Toshio really is your child. He really …”
Takeo’s fist to her jaw cut her pleas short.
“Agh,” Kayako bit her tongue, and blood flowed into her mouth. She felt her consciousness slipping again.
Takeo grabbed a handful of Kayako’s hair and forced her to face him. He picked up the box cutter off the floor, and clicked the blade out. He then pressed it to Kayako’s bruised cheek.
“Kayako! Tell me the truth! Whose kid is Toshio?”
“Stop! Please don’t kill me!”
Kayako’s eyes were filled with terror. When he saw this, Takeo’s sadistic wants slowly but surely took over, like black ink dropped in clear water.
“If you tell me the truth, I won’t kill you. What’s it going to be?” asked Takeo, his voice eerily quiet. “Come on, tell me. Toshio’s the child you had with that Kobayashi guy, isn’t he.”
“No … no … “
“Don’t lie to me!”
In the next instant, Kayako saw the box cutter in her husband’s hand descending on her. Then she saw fresh blood spurt.
Toshio
Toshio, home from school, noticed a black kitten huddling at the gate. Toshio had never let his cat out, and he wondered how the kitten ended up outside.
The cat’s name was Mar. His mother got the kitten for him from a nearby pet shop a little over a month ago to commemorate Toshio’s first day at elementary school. There was one black kitten and one white one in the pet shop’s show window, but his mother said that the black one was definitely cuter, so that’s the one he decided on. His father, who hated animals, made an ugly face when he saw the black cat they brought home, but never said Toshio couldn’t keep it.
“How’d you get out, Mar? If you stay here, you’ll get smashed by a car,” said Toshio, as he scooped up the kitten.
Toshio, cat still in his arms, opened the gate and headed to the front door. The kitten, which was always happy to be held by Toshio, seemed edgy for some reason and started to try and escape from the boy’s grasp.
“Mar, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”
Toshio held the squirming cat more firmly and opened the front door. At that moment, the cat jumped from his arms and tried to run out the door, but Toshio was quicker and got the door shut before Mar could make his escape.
I wonder why Mar is in such a hurry to get out of the house today.
“I’m home,” Toshio almost said, but quickly swallowed his words.
He felt something, something wrong in the house, something he could not put into words … Frightened, he looked around. That’s when he heard it.
“Iyaaaaaa,” his mother screamed from somewhere on the second floor.
Toshio picked up his black kitten, which was shuddering in the corner near the front door, and listened for more from upstairs.
“Please! Stop,” his mother screamed again, and the cat began to squirm violently.
His knapsack still on his back and still holding his cat, Toshio took off his shoes and went inside. He looked up the steep stairs near the entrance, and then down at his feet. He saw stains that looked like black ink had been spilled at the bottom of the steps. He squatted down and touched the drops with his fingers. The liquid was sticky, but he brought it to his nose and sniffed it.
Blood!
Fear like he had never experienced before ran through Toshio’s little body.
He was scared. He wanted nothing more than to open the front door and run away. But he had nowhere to run. This was the only place he knew, his home.
Holding the ever-squirming kitten even tighter, he snuck up the stairs, making sure not to make a sound. He knew his knees were shaking with fright.
“Yeah, that’s right, Toshio’s not mine, right,” he heard his father shout, as he reached the top of the stairs. Toshio hated it when his father was angry and shouted.
“Iyaaa!”
His mother’s scream mingled with his father’s shouts. Their voices were coming from their own bedroom.
What can I do?
As Toshio stood at the top of the stairs, the kitten in his arms meowed. Right after that, the master bedroom door opened.
“Toshio,” his father said, his face appearing in the doorway. His father’s terribly pale face was bathed in an oily sweat. In his right hand he held a box cutter, and the chest o{ his white shirt was sullied.
Blood,
there was no doubt about that.
Toshio stood stiff with fear. His father walked straight up to him, grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck, and took the animal away from the boy. In a low voice, he ordered Toshio to go to his room.
Toshio could not disobey his father. Still looking up at his father’s face, Toshio walked backward, and opened the door to his own room, which was right next to his parents’ room. He fled into his room and shut the door, even as Mar the cat shrieked.
Mar’s dead.
Toshio understood this implicitly. His mind went blank, he could not think, and his body was shivering violently. It was as if his body was not his own to control.
I’m going to die, too … Daddy is going to kill me …
He still had no idea what was going on. He began piling things in front of his door—his chair, his trash can, his globe, his school knapsack, his dictionary—anything he could find. Then he jumped into bed, clapped his hands over his ears, and squeezed his eyes shut.
His mother’s screams and his father’s shouts reverberated even under his covers.
“Toshio’s teacher, Kobayashi, is his real father, isn’t he? Isn’t he?!”
His father kept repeating the same thing over and over. He wouldn’t relent until his mother admitted it.
What on earth is Daddy talking about? Why does he keep saying that Kobayashi Sensei is my father?
Shivering with his bed covers up over his head, Toshio recalled Kobayashi Sensei’s face.
On the very first day of school, in the very first class, Mr. Kobayashi told them that he was twenty-eight years old. He lived with his
wife in a small apartment complex about a fifteen-minute walk from the school. He told his students that they were expecting a baby girl soon. Kobayashi Sensei was very kind, and never got angry. Not long after the first day, Kobayashi Sensei approached Toshio.
“My first name is Shunsuke. The character for Shun is the same as the Toshi in your name, Toshio.”
Now, Toshio recalled this conversation. He also thought how much fun it would be if Kobayashi Sensei was his father.
He could still hear his father’s shouts, his mother’s shrieks and cries, and her pleas for Takeo to stop.
Toshio held his breath under his covers, and prayed to God.
Please God, let my family return to how we were this morning. Please let Mommy and Daddy make up by tonight. Please dont let Mar be dead.
He prayed under his covers, still shivering.
From under his covers, Toshio couldn’t see the alarm clock on top of his desk, so he had no idea how much time had passed. Suddenly, his mother let out a long, horrible scream that echoed like a dog’s howl. Then … utter silence. He heard nothing more.
Mommy has just been killed.
As Toshio realized this, he bit down on his finger hard, like he always did when trying not to cry.
He didn’t have time to be sad right now.
The door to the next room opened.
He’s coming. Daddy’s coming to kill me.
Toshio jumped out of his bed, threw open the sliding door to his closet, and jumped up onto the top shelf.
He slid the door closed and held his breath, shaking. He heard his father twisting the doorknob oi his bedroom. He heard the chair and trash can he had put in front of the door fall.
He’s here!
In the dark, Toshio frantically looked around. He stood up and began pushing the boards that separated the closet from the attic. One of them came loose.
“Toshio, get out here! Toshio!” his father screamed.
Toshio was able to pull himself into the narrow space between the ceiling and the roof, and was crawling away from the opening. He felt the skin on his knees tear away, but he didn’t have the time to feel pain right now.
He turned around and saw that the attic that had hitherto been cloaked in total darkness was illuminated ever so slightly. His father had opened the door to the closet!
The light was coming from the square opening in the ceiling that Toshio had pulled himself through. Suddenly, his father’s face popped up through that lighted hole.
Ah!
Toshio bit back a scream. His father’s face was horribly distorted from his anger. He looked like a demon.
“Toshio, I know you’re in here! Get out here! Get out here, now!” his father shouted, but he was looking around in all directions. He couldn’t see Toshio, who was hidden in the deepest shadows of the attic crawlspace.
“Toshio, get over here now, or I swear I’ll put a real hurtin’ on you! I’ll do to you just what I did to your mother!”
His father kept yelling for Toshio to come out, but Toshio had no intention of doing so. Toshio held his breath and fought for control
over his fearful shivering. If his father came up into the attic, he was prepared to do anything he could to escape. In a space as small as this, the much smaller Toshio could move easier than his father could.
But his father never came up into the attic.
“Fine! Stay there! Stay there until you die!” Takeo spat as he dropped back down out of the closet. He must have shut the door again, as the attic was cloaked in darkness once again.
Toshio sat in the dark, trembling. The sounds of his father cursing and kicking the walls and pillars reverberated throughout the attic. His father went downstairs, then back up to the second story, and back down, many, many times.
At first Toshio could see nothing, but as his eyes gradually became adjusted to the darkness, he was able to make out his surroundings.
The space between the ceiling and the roof was bigger than he had thought. Due to the slope of the triangular roof, the middle of the attic was about a meter high, but at the edges it was only about ten centimeters high. He could see all the pillars that were supporting the roof from below. He saw something in the shadow of one of the pillars. From its location, he guessed that it was right above his parents’ bedroom.
What is that?
He crawled ever so tentatively over to the object. It looked like something big, wrapped in a clear plastic bag.
Taking care not to make any big noises that would attract his father’s attention, he slowly reached his hand out to the object.
“Ah!” He gave an involuntary cry.
It was his mother in the bag, soaked in blood!
“Mmm …” Toshio shoved his hand into his mouth, frantically trying not to scream out loud. His entire being shuddered, but there was nothing he could do about that.
His bloody mother inside that clear plastic bag had her eyes closed.
Mommy … Mommy … Mommy!
Toshio cried out to his mother inside his heart. He untied the top of the plastic bag and touched his mother’s face. She was already very cold. Just in case, he touched her throat, but found no pulse.
t Don’t be dead … Don’t be dead . . . Please don’t be dead! He continued crying out in his heart. Then, his. mother, whose eyes had been closed, opened them suddenly. “Wah!” Toshio scooted backwards. His dead mother looked at him, opened her mouth, and smiled a bloody smile at her son.
Sometimes people think that they must be the happiest person on earth.
Even i( they don’t live on an estate with a pool, an estate so big they can get lost, even if they have never traveled around the world on a cruise ship, even if they have never flown first-class, even if they have never stayed for a month in the VIP suite of a five-star hotel, even if they don’t own an expensive car with their own private driver, even if they don’t own a summer home in Karuizawa, even if they don’t have a maid who looks after their every whim, even if they don’t have their own cruiser in the yacht harbor, even if they are not the president of a large corporation, they still think that they are the happiest person on earth.
In the same way, even though they have never been incarcerated in the concentration camp at Auschwitz, even though they have never lost e
verything they have ever known to war or natural disaster, even though they have never been diagnosed with a terminal illness, even though they have never lost their entire family in a fire or traffic accident, and even though they have never had to worry about where they are going to sleep at night or what they are going to eat tomorrow, some people think that they must be the unhappiest person in the world.
Add to that the fact that the world Kayako had lived in was very small.
On this planet, even now, there are children who die without ever knowing the taste of chocolate. There are young women who die without ever getting to dress up nicely. But, Kayako did not know this. She had never even imagined it.
That’s the gist of it.
The smaller the world one lives in, the deeper and stronger their hatred can grow. It is like water poured into a dish.
If the bowl is small, the water will overflow. In the same way, if a person is of a small caliber, the hatred poured into them will overflow and spill back into the world in which they live.
Kayako, who had been beaten, tortured, and sliced with a box cutter until she had died, not only cursed her husband, but cursed and hated a great many more people: her classmates who fell silent as soon as she entered the classroom, Shunsuke Kobayashi who never realized how much she had loved him, Manami Midorikawa who had stolen Kobayashi from her, her parents who were so busy with work that they never had the time to spend with her … Kayako envied, cursed, and hated a great many more people: the
young ladies who dressed up elegantly on the town, the housewives who happily shopped for that evening’s dinner, the men who headed home after a long day’s work, the young boys hanging out at the video arcades, the families who ate out at restaurants, the high school girls in their short skirts and baggy socks, the elderly people playing with their grandchildren in the park. Yes, Kayako envied, cursed, and hated every human alive on the planet.
With each cut and slice oi her husband’s box cutter into her flesh, along with the unspeakable fear and suffering she felt, Kayako envied, cursed, and hated the world.
Just like the Nazis who sent over six million Jews to their doom in their death camps had hated, cursed, and killed people they had never met just for being Jewish. Or, like the men who hijacked passenger airplanes and crashed them into the skyscrapers of New York had hated, cursed, and killed innocent people merely because the people were American. Or like some o{ the soldiers in Vietnam who had continually burned the jungles with their napalm, had hated, cursed, and tried to kill not only enemy soldiers, but women, children, and elderly under the pretense that all Viet Cong were better off dead. Yes, in that same way, Kayako hated and cursed all humans, and vowed to kill them all. She believed that what she had been through had given her the right.