The moment she stepped outside a moan escaped deep within her throat, and warm water brimmed in her eyes. She paused to glance up and down the street under its bright neon glare, then set off to the right as fast as she could walk. Perhaps three times tears tracked her cheeks like beads of summer sweat. Osada and Hatanaka did not come after her now. She’d be seeing them again in any case, since Hatanaka was Kayako’s father. She had no intention of sneaking about avoiding them.
A boy aged five or six was firing a toy machine-gun by the entrance to an alley of bars. Kōko stopped, for the first time since she left the restaurant, and watched him. It was strange to come across one so young among these nightspots: she felt as if she hadn’t seen a child in years. When he pulled the trigger the gun barrel flashed a brilliant red and rattled, ratatat-tat. He was aiming at nearby trash cans and lampposts and firing in bursts, taking a dramatic stance each time. He had large ears and large eyes.
Soon the gun’s muzzle, in search of its next target, swiveled toward Kōko. There was a moment’s hesitation, then the boy struck the same pose and opened fire. Rat-tat-tat-tat, came the pleasant clattering sound.
‘Aaargh, got me.’ Kōko twisted and slumped to the asphalt.
The firing stopped. She opened her eyes a fraction, to spy the boy dangling the machine gun and staring openmouthed at her body. As Kōko remained motionless, stifling her laughter, the boy edged gingerly toward her and prodded her back with the gun: still she played dead. Next he caught up her outstretched arm on the tip of the barrel and let it drop. Kōko just lay there, face down.
The boy crouched beside Kōko’s body, cradling the machine-gun.
‘This is weird … She’s not supposed to die for real … Hey, it’s not my fault if she goes and dies. Nobody ever died before …’
Kōko’s shoulders started to quiver.
‘Hhh-hhh-hhh-hhh,’ Kōko uttered gruffly as she rose, very slowly, from the ground. Stretching both arms toward the boy, who was staring in astonishment, she grappled him to her breast.
‘Hhh-hhh-hhh … Resistance is useless. I have come for you from the farthest reaches of outer space … You are needed. You will surrender, Earth Child …’
For a brief moment the boy, not knowing what had hit him, let himself be squeezed, but then his whole body expressed a terror so strong it took her by surprise as, head tossing, arms and legs thrashing, he tried to break free. With clenched teeth Kōko pitted her strength against his desperation. He writhed harder and harder, he was all violence – and yet he didn’t yell for help.
He wasn’t one of those children who ran to an adult for protection the moment anything hurt or frightened them. The thought made Kōko want to hug him all the more. But she couldn’t think how to get through to him – and all she asked was that they keep on playing, like a couple of children, unaware of time passing.
Moments later, the boy abruptly stopped lashing out and stood still. Panting, he said: ‘All right … You win … Just quit hurting me … You’re hurting me …’
With a rueful smile she slackened her embrace – and quick as a mouse the boy was off. Raising a cry that was half wail, half scream, he disappeared deep into the bar-lined alley as fast as his legs could carry him.
Kōko was too stunned to move. I wonder if he truly believed I came from outer space. If he did – if he’s that kind of child – he’ll grow up with a memory of how the being came after him. A genuine creature from outer space in the guise of an earthling. Though one day he may begin to suspect that he merely dreamed it long ago.
Even if the boy didn’t believe me, she thought, at least I’m going to play my part out.
After inhaling slowly, Kōko leveled her gaze at the many-colored bar signs, gradually extended a pair of long silver antennae from the top of her head, and began to beam electromagnetic waves from their tips to the boy, wherever he’d got to. Becoming every inch a space creature for his sake, she made the two antennae vibrate with minute precision.
‘That’s not fair. So you’re a child who breaks his promise, are you? A cowardly thing to do … I’m very disappointed … Now I don’t suppose I’ll ever see you again … when we could have shared so much joy … I shall return to my own galaxy … Are you receiving me? … Receiving me? … Receiving? …’
Kōko stilled the vibrating antennae and concentrated with closed eyes for a little while. There was no reply from the boy. She opened her eyes and turned to face the main street, where a line of cars was waiting at a stoplight. Their countless tail lamps tinged the air with a faint red glow.
Rubbing her eyes, Kōko began to walk along the faintly tinged pavement.
THE BEGINNING
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PENGUIN CLASSICS
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First published as Choji by Kawade Shobo Shinsha 1978
This translation first published by Kodansha International Ltd, Tokyo, and Kodansha International/USA Ltd 1983
Published with a revised translation in Penguin Classics 2018
Copyright © Yuko Tsushima, 1978
Translation copyright renewed © Geraldine Harcourt, 2018
The moral rights of the author and translator have been asserted
Cover photograph © Nico Perez
ISBN: 978-0-241-33504-8
Child of Fortune Page 18