Cult X

by Fuminori Nakamura

  Sasahara had joined this cult because he was curious about the leader. He was interested in this man who was so different. Sasahara constantly fretted over everything. He wanted the leader’s strength.

  Before Sashara joined the cult, everything he did was half-assed. He’d considered himself talented, until he failed college entrance exams. That led to him not being able to find work, and he thought if he couldn’t get the kind of job he deserved, there was no reason for him to work. Companies were a waste of time—groups of talentless humans who gathered together just because they were good at communicating. The people who always got in his way. But he couldn’t find a way to beat them. Even though Sasahara deserved to be in a position of power in society, when he finally tried to straighten his life out, he couldn’t find a job. His pride gradually eroded. He needed to convince himself of his own worth. Any sort of achievement would have been fine. But time passed and society gave him nothing, and gradually he felt his core beginning to twist out of shape. He wanted revenge on society, but he couldn’t execute it. He didn’t want to do anything petty, like becoming a random murderer. He just sat in his dark room, cursing the world.

  There, in the darkness, he’d felt something calling him. Whatever it was, it must have carried him to the leader.

  Of course the leader would do this. He betrayed us. Who besides the leader could care so little about the people around him? But Sasahara didn’t even feel betrayed. If I confronted him, the leader would probably just give me a funny look. And then he’d whisper to me, Yes, that’s right, I betrayed you.

  Tears flowed from Sasahara’s eyes. But, but, but what should I do? Now that I’ve been abandoned by the leader, what should I do? His cracking consciousness grew distant. He was going to pass out. Sasahara brought his fist down on his leg as hard as he could, trying to maintain his grip on reality. I’m still here. So are the members, and the hostages. But it won’t last. It’s going to break. What should I do? What should I do?

  His vision was narrowing, but he saw a man approach him. The pervert who had tried to attack a woman in the bathroom. He was trying to say something.

  “Tell me who.” What am I saying? “Tell me who the leader is now. Give me someone to replace the leader. This is no good. It won’t last. It’s going to break. Tell me who! Tell me who!”

  “I saw it,” the man in front of him said. His face was pale. “I was watching. The leader is dead.”

  He saw! Sasahara’s mind focused on that one single thought. If he saw, I can’t let him live. A gun appeared in his field of vision. I’ll kill him first. That’s all I can do. I don’t know why, but it’s my only choice. I’ll kill the people here, and then myself. That’s the only option left. No. Instead of suicide, after I kill them, I’ll attack the riot police. I’ll kill all of them, too.

  Sasahara pointed the gun at the man.

  Just as he was about the pull the trigger, the man yelped, “There is no one to replace him!”

  Suddenly, Sasahara found himself storming over to the hostages. He was screaming, “All of you, get up! Stand! One at a time. I’m going to shoot you.”

  The faces of the members changed. They still didn’t know the truth; they thought it was an order from the leader.

  “You can’t. Please stop.”

  A man stood between Sasahara and the hostages. Through his hazy vision, he realized it was the pervert.

  “Get out of the way.”

  “No.”

  “Why? Why are you stopping me?”

  “Because,” the man whispered. “Because my mother’s here.”

  Sasahara stared at the man blankly. Then he stared at the terrified hostages behind him.

  “There’s no way she’s here.”

  “Yes, she is. Well, women like my mother.”

  Sasahara didn’t understand.

  “What are you saying? I know all about you. You’re just a thug who joined the faith so you could fuck all day long. I’ve hated believers like you from the very beginning. You’re trash. Get out of here. If you don’t, I’ll shoot you first.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  The man was shaking violently, but he stared at Sasahara’s gun. He should have raised his arms to resist, but they were still hanging at his sides.

  “Why? Why are you protecting them?”

  “Because I love this world.”

  “This world? The world that abandoned you? That tormented you for being a pervert?”

  “That’s right.” The man was crying. “I was abandoned by the world. I was always looked at with scorn by women. But I love women.” He kept crying. “I’m a pervert, and I suffered for that, but sex is my core, and I love myself. Sex is the only thing I’ve ever believed in. I don’t want to kill these women. I want to have sex with them. Even if I can’t have sex with them, I want them to have sex, because sex is great. When I get angry, I forget about myself and try to do bad things. That’s why I was really relieved from the bottom of my heart when the bombs didn’t explode after I called the cell phone number. It was a good thing the numbers were wrong.”

  Sasahara stared, dazed, at the crying man.

  “This religion is over. We’re going to be thrown back into society. I’ll probably live alone and jerk off all the time. Maybe I’ll be able to go to brothels sometimes. But that’s fine. Sex is amazing . . . And I really don’t want to kill anyone. Killing people would mean rejecting sex. I can’t let you kill these women. Or men. All sex is beautiful, men with women, men with men, women with women . . .” The man took a step toward Sasahara. “I learned how beautiful sex is from this faith. The women never rejected me. They accepted me, even though I was an outcast. That was the first time I was accepted by anyone in this world. They taught me . . . Isn’t that right?”

  Sasahara wasn’t listening. He raised his gun. But the man tackled Sasahara and wrestled him to the ground. The hostages screamed. The other members didn’t know what to do. They tried to pull the men apart. But the pervert had managed to steal the gun. He pointed it at Sasahara.

  “Don’t move. Don’t even try to threaten me with your weapons—none of them are real. I’m holding the only real gun.” The man was crying. He was shaking but held the gun steady. “Don’t make me mad. Don’t come any closer. If you come any closer, I don’t know what I’ll do. You should all watch the video. The video of the leader that Sasahara just watched. It’s open right over there.” He pointed to the computer Sasahara had just been using. “You should all watch it . . . Let’s tell them on TV . . . That we surrender. And then . . .”

  The man collapsed. Sasahara stood behind him, holding the pistol he used to shoot Takahara. He was close enough to take back the machine gun, but he couldn’t move. One of the members was walking over to the computer. The others followed.

  29

  Takahara was still sitting on the ground watching the legs pass him by.

  He thought about unrelated things, like how it might rain. Three minutes until 10 p.m. His mind was trying to avoid that thought. He wondered about his own lingering attachment to this world.

  He lit yet another cigarette, and realized a pair of legs had stopped right next to him. When he looked up, his heart began to race. Ryoko? Why? Her head was silhouetted by the town’s neon lights, and her eyes, locked on Takahara, looked damp.

  “I finally found you,” she whispered. Found. He wasn’t sure why, but for some reason that word echoed inside him.

  “Why are you here?”

  “It’s already over.”

  Pedestrians continued to pass them by. Stuck in traffic on the way here, Ryoko Tachibana had caught up with the news on the car radio and the smartphone she’d stolen. Sawatari was dead. The cult’s compound had been opened up. The members in the TV station had given themselves up. The two planes heading for China had been shot down by Japanese forces before they could engage with the Chine
se military. The pilots had ejected themselves mid-flight, and it was yet to be confirmed whether they’d survived, but that wouldn’t change the fact that Japanese soldiers had been shot down by Japanese soldiers.

  Tachibana relayed that information to Takahara simply, one piece at a time. Takahara listened silently. Something about him was off. Aside from the news of Sawatari’s death, he didn’t appear to have heard any of it.

  “So it’s all over,” she said again. “Now there’s something you must do. No, something that we both must do.” Despite her conflicted feelings, she said, “Let’s turn ourselves in. And then testify that the leader brainwashed everyone, and the other believers were all essentially innocent . . . We’re the only ones with the power to help right now. We need to make the others’ punishment as light as possible.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “What?”

  “It’s not over yet.”

  Takahara stood up slowly. He looked at Tachibana. She’s beautiful, he thought. He also thought unnecessary things like, She could do something with her hair. He couldn’t touch her anymore. It seemed to him that his attachment to this world was all concentrated within her.

  “Their attack may be over. But ours is not.”

  Invocation. Tachibana clung to the word. “Calm down and listen. I read your diary.”

  Takahara didn’t react. He seemed to be distracted by something else.

  “YG has been destroyed. There was an air raid—they’re all wiped out. And their leader, Nigel, he’s dead, too. Your nightmare—it’s already over.”

  “I know that.”

  Tachibana was shocked at his words.

  “But there are survivors.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They contacted me. They told me to carry out an attack in Japan.”

  “What if you’re being tricked?”

  “What?”

  “Even if you were really approached by survivors—what authority do they have over you? It can’t be what it used to be. And . . . they contacted you in Japanese, right?”

  “How did you know that?”

  “Remember. According to your diary, none of them could speak Japanese. You’re being tricked. Sawatari, or some other group, was using you to carry out this attack.”

  “That can’t be,” Takahara whispered. “They tracked me down at the hospital—”

  Tachibana cut him off. “What are you saying? The hospital where the police were holding you? Come on. Wake up! If the police were guarding you, how could anyone from YG have gotten to you?” Tachibana had an epiphany. “Was it two men, one older, and one relatively young?”

  “How did you know that?”

  “They’re from the Public Security Bureau. I learned about the two of them when I was working as a scout. They’ve been investigating us.” Tachibana grabbed Takahara’s shoulder. “Listen, you’re not thinking straight. If you were your normal self, you would have realized something was off right away.”

  “Even if that is true.” Takahara sounded like he was begging. “Even if things are as you say. Even if everything’s been destroyed, and YG doesn’t have the kind of power they used to. Even if somewhere along the way I was tricked by Sawatari and the Public Security Bureau, can you say that there is zero possibility that was done by the will of Rarseshir, by the will of R?”

  “What?”

  “What if . . . what if there really is a god? What if that god is Rarseshir, and he chose me to act in place of those organizations that were destroyed?”

  “What are you saying?” Tachibana began to cry. She shook Takahara. “God would never ask for something like that!”

  “You don’t know. You don’t know them.”

  “Takahara-kun!”

  “I’ll convince you . . . Not here. Let’s go somewhere else.”

  Convince me? I’m the one who should be convincing him.

  Takahara began to walk away. He seemed frightened. She followed him down a quiet street. There were fewer and fewer people. They entered a parking lot without a single car.

  “Listen. YG is—”

  “I don’t care about YG.” Tachibana didn’t want to hear anything else. She pulled a gun out of her pocket.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I know what you’re thinking. You’re trying to protect me. They threatened you and told you to go through with this in exchange for my safety. So if that’s it, if that’s why . . .” Tachibana pointed the gun at her temple. “I’ll just die.”

  “Hey!”

  “Don’t move.” Tachibana began to cry, pressing the barrel of the gun to her own temple. “You plan on carrying out this attack and then dying, right? There’s no meaning in a world without you. I’ve known that since long ago. If you die doing something horrible to protect me, I’m going to die anyway. We both lose either way.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “No, what are you saying?”

  Takahara couldn’t move. Ryoko Tachibana did not make idle threats. If I excite her, she might actually shoot.

  “Listen. Why did you get sucked into R? Fear—terror. They imprisoned you. But, when you look deeper . . . You were also drawn to them because of their teachings, their desire to rid the world of starvation, right? You were a victim of your own past. I don’t know if it was a conscious or unconscious choice, but part of you wanted to be brainwashed . . . And there’s one other thing. You look down on others,” Tachibana continued. “You were trying to reject the life that was passing you by, right? Becoming a terrorist and dying young—some part inside of you wanted that, right?”

  “That may be true,” Takahara admitted. He had realized that a long time ago. “But how can you respect any of this world’s organizations? Let’s say we turn ourselves in to the police, like you want. If we did that, my life would be over. I’d just be giving in to my past, and be mocked by all the people I hate. I don’t want to lead that kind of pathetic life.”

  “Of course,” Tachibana screamed. “That’s why a part of you wanted things to end up like this. You’re trying to make yourself into an idiot legend through terrorism. But that’s not true power. Even if you’re unhappy, even if you think you’re suffering, live until the end. That’s true power.” Tachibana’s voice dropped. “I feel like I’ve finally understood what Matsuo-san meant when he said life isn’t about comparisons. That you have to live following your path, your own path. It’s fine to get ideas from others. To be influenced by them. But it’s no good to compare too much. Are you listening? Hear me out. It doesn’t matter how you compare to others. What’s important is to walk the path of your own life as it appears before you. There’s no meaning in comparing yourself to others. Every life has the same value. The problem is—no matter what kind of life you have—the problem is how you live it. Each life is independent. You must spend your unique, individual time all the way to its end. No matter what kind of life you live, even if it’s one that doesn’t fulfill you, isn’t it a great thing to see it through? The more difficult your life is, the more you struggle to make it better, the greater you are when you’ve lived it through. So please, stop this stupid bullshit. Let’s go to the police. Help me make the other members’ punishments just a little bit lighter. It doesn’t matter if people laugh at us. I don’t care. We should live our lives proudly. How about it?”

  “But R . . .”

  “Idiot.” Tachibana pounded his chest with her fist. That was all she could do. “You’re brainwashed. What matters to you more? Me or god?”

  Takahara stared at Tachibana blankly. He felt like his world was crumbling. But in the corner of his peripheral vision he noticed a single man. Takahara’s heart began to race.

  “That man’s here.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t look.” The warmth of her body spread through his. “I’ll believe what you say for n
ow. Honestly, I’m still not sure myself, but I’ll make myself believe you. They’re not part of R. But if they’re members of the Public Security Bureau . . . we have to outsmart them. I have an idea.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve got a smartphone, right? Leave me here, find somewhere he won’t be able to see you, and record what he does.”

  “But—”

  “Catch him on video, an investigator approaching a terrorist. If there’s video, he won’t be able to make any excuses.”

  “Takahara-kun.”

  “I’ll get rid of him. I’ll be fine. This is to help the other members, right?”

  Tachibana let go of Takahara. She let go solemnly. She turned and went around the corner, pretending she hadn’t noticed the man. For the other members, she thought. But really . . .

  But really, none of this matters. Really, I should have said what I wanted to.

  Let’s run away together.

  It’s fine if we’re mocked by the world. Just the two of us, together forever.

  But Tachibana began to film. When this is done, I’ll tell Takahara-kun, she thought. She felt something inside her beginning to loosen, to crumble. I don’t want to go to prison. If things don’t go well, I may never be able to leave. We’ll give this video to Yoshiko-san. It’s selfish of me, but I want to set myself free.

  Tachibana was warm from Takahara’s touch for the first time in a long while, and tears began streaming down her face again.

  She watched through the screen of the smartphone as the man approached Takahara. It was one of the Public Security Bureau men. The young one.

  The thirty-something man was irritated.

  The cult members had surrendered just as orders to invade were issued. The heavily armed riot police had been facing down a bunch of insurgents with mostly fake guns. The nation was already losing face. Panic had spread through the people and the media when the two Self-Defense planes deserted—not because they were afraid of terrorists, but because they were afraid of the government. Of militarization. On TV, terrorists talked about the problems of poverty, and criticized the government and allied corporations extensively. The force of that message was also already spreading through the world. This was the worst possible situation.