“I’ve made a house for him.” Yōko explained that for the time being they would leave the nail in Kin after pulling it out of the pillar. Then they would wait for the right time to pull the nail out of his flesh, and keep him in a small wooden box until the wound healed. When he was in good condition, they would let him go. “I think that would be best. I made the box myself, and put some round stones in it.”
“When did you make it?” Tetsuyuki was surprised.
“Today. I sawed some wood, and pounded nails . . . I don’t know how many times I hit my fingers with the hammer. See, I have blood blisters, don’t I? I found pieces of board in the storage shed, and my face and neck got all dusty. That’s why I took a bath.”
“Why? Why did you do that?”
“Because I decided that you’ll be moving the day after tomorrow.”
“The day after tomorrow?”
“You know that my cousin is an electrical contractor, don’t you? He’s working on some major construction projects, and the day after tomorrow is the only day he’ll be able to lend us his truck. And that’s why I hurried and made a house for Kin.”
Tetsuyuki stood up, grasped Yōko’s hand, and took off running. After paying quick but appropriate respects to her parents, he took the wooden box and went back to Mukonosō Station. The deformed box, measuring eight inches on each side, told of the great pains Yōko had expended in making it. At the ticket gate, she pulled a face at him.
“Idiot.”
“I think I’m about to break down in tears.”
“The truck will arrive the day after tomorrow at ten. If you’re still asleep then, I’ll kick you in the face.”
Tetsuyuki wanted to say something wonderfully endearing but was in too exultant a state of mind and was not even able to reply coherently.
By the time he arrived at Suminodō Station, his feelings of exultation had subsided into a solemn tranquility. Walking against headwinds, he carried the box containing the round stones, pushing forward with his head down along the dark path. Locking the door, he caressed Kin’s nose. Kin’s tail shivered slightly. It occurred to Tetsuyuki that there were many things he must talk to Kin about before going through with it, but the moment he said “Kin-chan,” he winced at the thought that he should pull the nail out of Kin’s body at once rather than traumatizing him twice. Holding the pliers in his right hand, he gently held down Kin’s body.
“You won’t die. You won’t die.”
Kin’s legs moved wildly, his tail writhing. Following an instantaneous creaking sound, the dislodged nail along with the pliers went flying up toward the ceiling. A piece of Kin’s internal organs appeared on the finger Tetsuyuki had used to hold down the lizard, forming a red-and-yellow-green speck. He opened the box and released his fingers, but Kin’s body remained stuck to the pillar, twisting like a mosquito larva. But he did not fall into the box. When he had been pierced by the nail, some flesh from his abdomen had hardened along with body fluids, causing him to adhere to the pillar. Tetsuyuki found the nail in a corner of the room. Using the point of the nail, he tried to scrape away the congealed matter. Kin was thrashing about violently. If Tetsuyuki were not careful, the wound would only grow wider. The nail that had for so long pierced him only created a fresh wound in his abdomen after it was pulled out.
At length, Kin fell to the floor. Getting down on all fours, Tetsuyuki cautiously placed the lizard on his palm, and then set him in the wooden box. With spasms in his neck and back, Kin hid between the stones, his mouth open.
Toward dawn, it began to rain. It was past noon when it stopped, and bright sunlight fell on the tatami floor and on Kin’s box. Lying on his stomach, Tetsuyuki put his ear to the box.
“You won’t die. You won’t die . . . I had a dream, it was a long time ago. I turned into a lizard, and went through lots of lives and deaths.”
There was no sound from inside the box. He barely managed to suppress the urge to take out the stones to determine whether Kin was alive or dead.
“This is definitely spring sunlight. Kin-chan, when I pulled the nail out, spring arrived.”
He spent that entire day telling Kin whatever came to mind. Years from now, if he recalled this period of living apart from his mother, all images would appear through the lens of this mysterious messenger named Kin. Tetsuyuki realized nothing had yet begun. He drank some saké, talked on, and occasionally peered between the stones as he waited for the next day. Tomorrow . . . tomorrow Yōko would come in the truck with her cousin. Thought of tomorrow brought panic and at the same time excitement. This must be what true bliss was like.
He awoke at eight o’clock on that awaited day. The unmistakable light of spring brought beads of perspiration around his neck and under his arms. Carrying the wooden box, he made several trips to the corner of the path. He wanted to wave his arms to greet Yōko by the side of the road rather than in his apartment. As he was waiting, he could no longer contain himself and removed the stones from the box one by one. Some were the size of hen’s eggs; there were also pieces of brick.
“Kin-chan, stay alive,” Tetsuyuki mumbled, his heart pounding. After removing all the stones, he stared for a long time into the box, occasionally raising his head like a marionette and looking off into the vast sky filled with spring light. Kin was not there.
© Shintaro Shiratori
TERU MIYAMOTO, born in Kobe in 1947, is among Japan’s most widely read living authors. He has received Japan’s most prestigious literary distinctions, including the Dazai Osamu Prize and the Akutagawa Prize. Several of his works have been made into award-winning movies, including Maborosi, directed by Hirokazu Kore-eda, the Oscar-nominated director of Shoplifters.
© Michiko Thomas
ROGER K. THOMAS is a professor of East Asian languages and cultures at Illinois State University, where he also directs the program in East Asian Studies. He has translated two of Teru Miyamoto’s books, along with other works of modern Japanese fiction, including Enchi Fumiko’s A Tale of False Fortunes, winner of the Japan-U.S. Friendship Commission Prize for the Translation of Japanese Literature.
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