“But…”
“It’s your fault for bringing him here, for making me do this.”
Wataru walked over to the sofa and sat. His knees knocked together. He had been so frightened just hours before, when the pack of screw-wolves attacked him in Vision. He was more frightened now.
Uncle Lou stood behind him quietly.
“I didn’t want to have to tell you like this,” Akira began. His voice was slightly trembling. “I would rather you heard it from your mother later. That’s why I wanted you to stay with your uncle for the night.”
“That’s not fair,” Uncle Lou said quickly. “He deserves an explanation.”
“And I didn’t think I could give it to him,” Akira said, lifting his eyes to look at his brother. A faint smile played on his lips. “That’s why I asked you.”
Uncle Lou was silent.
“Listen, Wataru,” Akira said, looking into his eyes. Wataru stared back at him. Deep inside, he could hear a part of him screaming in a tiny voice, Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.
“I’m going away,” Akira Mitani said slowly.
Going away.
“Your mother and I are getting a divorce. You understand what that means?”
Getting a divorce.
“I know this is a horrible thing to do to you, and your mother. But I’ve made my decision. It took a long time, I thought very hard, but I’ve made up my mind, and I’m not changing it.”
A horrible thing.
“I told your mother tonight for the first time. We’ve been talking since then, but I think she was very surprised—it came as quite a shock to her.”
Wataru opened his mouth. The voice that came out was surprisingly weak, not steady and calm as he had intended it to be. “Is Mom asleep?”
“She was when I checked on her a while ago,” Akira replied. “I still have a lot of things I’ll need to discuss with her: the house, you and your mother’s livelihood…details, many things that need to be decided.”
Wataru blinked slowly. He blinked again, and again, but nothing was different. He couldn’t change the channel. This wasn’t some mistake, some gross misunderstanding. It wasn’t a dream. It was reality. I’m not in Vision anymore.
Still, the sight of his father telling him he was leaving was somehow more unreal than the screw-wolves on the imaginary desert had been.
There were so many things he needed to ask, so many things he had the right to ask, he was sure—but Wataru hadn’t the slightest idea what they were. Like sand trickling through his fingers, the thoughts slid out of his mind before he could complete them. It was like a hole had been opened in the bottom of his heart and everything was draining out.
“Where will you go, Dad?” he managed to ask at last.
“I’ll tell you when I’m settled in. I’ll reach you by cell phone.”
Akira stood. Wataru looked up at him in a daze. Was that it? Was this the end?
Akira stooped and pulled something out from behind the sofa. It was his travel bag, the familiar one he always used for business trips. Wataru had never seen it stuffed so full. The seams were bulging.
“Akira…” Satoru said, his voice hoarse. “You don’t have anything else to say? Nothing else to say to your son? Is that all?”
When Akira responded, he was looking at his brother, not his son. “Anything I said to Wataru would only be an excuse.”
“Still…”
“You wouldn’t understand, Satoru.”
Uncle Lou’s face went pale. His lips were trembling. Akira lifted his travel bag. Wataru stared at it; he couldn’t think of anything else to do. His father’s hand clutching the bag. The light shining dully off his fingernails as he turned to walk toward the door.
“Take care of Wataru for me, Satoru,” Akira said, his voice no longer trembling.
“You can’t ask me to do that,” Uncle Lou said stubbornly. “You can’t just ask someone to take care of your life. I won’t do it for you, that’s for sure.”
Akira Mitani quietly looked back at his son. “Take care of your mother for me, Wataru.”
Then he walked, his slippers scuffing on the carpet.
Flip-flop, flip-flop.
Why am I not stopping him? Wataru thought to himself. Why am I not running after him, grabbing him, crying for him to stay?
Because, Wataru realized, it’s no use. His father was not one to change his mind once it had been set. In the Mitani household, what his father said was law, writ in stone. His conclusions were decisions, and his decisions were final. No amount of weeping or pleading could hope to overturn them. That lesson had been imprinted on every cell of Wataru’s body. Being selfish would get him nowhere.
Selfish? Am I being selfish?
Wataru stood from the sofa and ran to the door. Akira was putting on his shoes. His back was turned.
“Dad.”
At the sound of Wataru’s voice, Akira stiffened.
“Are you leaving me and Mom?”
For a moment, Akira paused. His hand clutching the shoehorn looked white.
Then he went back to putting on his shoes. He put the shoehorn back on top of the shoebox. Then, back still turned, he spoke. “Even if I divorced your mother, I’m still your father, Wataru. Nothing will change that, no matter where I go.”
“But you are leaving us?” Wataru said again. Why does my voice sound so weak? Why can’t I talk louder? Why can’t I say something more persuasive? “You’re leaving me and Mom.”
Akira Mitani opened the door. “I’m sorry, Wataru.”
And then he left.
Wataru stood there, watching the door swing shut. His mouth hung open, and his eyes were dry. His stomach ached like he had to go to the bathroom, but was holding it in.
Uncle Lou silently walked up behind him and put his hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry.” There were tears in his voice. “I guess I shouldn’t have brought you home. You should’ve stayed with me at the hotel. I was wrong. I’m sorry, Wataru. I’m sorry.”
I’m still sleeping. This is all a dream. I’m still in the haunted building, under those rickety stairs, amidst the scraps of concrete and the dust, hung over a railing, asleep. My uncle will find me and drag me out, then Mr. Daimatsu will show up, and they’ll take me to Mr. Daimatsu’s house.
I’m sleeping. When I wake up, everything will be like it was before.
Wataru repeated those words to himself over and over, like a spell—a spell powerful enough to defeat the most fearsome monster. A spell to drive all enemies away. A spell to make the monsters vanish.
No. You’re wrong. Spells won’t work. I’m not asleep. This is reality. This is happening right before my eyes.
Pain welled up from deep inside. What was that spell the wizard used, the one to turn back time? What words did he say? I should’ve remembered them. I want to use them now.
“Uncle Lou,” Wataru said quietly, feeling his uncle’s warmth against his back. “Did you know? Did you know Dad would be leaving tonight?”
His uncle breathed a ragged breath before answering. “Not until that phone call.”
That’s why he had been so frazzled, even though Wataru had only fallen asleep.
“It’s terrible,” his uncle muttered. “I don’t believe this. I can’t believe he would lay this on you.”
Wataru turned silently, and fell into his uncle’s arms. Hanging on to him for dear life, he cried and cried.
No matter how confused, how tired, or how sad, every night has its morning. When he opened his eyes, the morning sun shone harsh against Wataru’s face.
He’d fallen asleep with his uncle in the living room. Uncle Lou, too large for the sofa, was sprawled on the floor. Wataru had curled up in one corner of the long sofa, a refugee in his own home. When he stood up, every bone in his body made an audible crack.
Outside the window was a clear blue sky. The rainy season must be over. There hadn’t been a hint of rain yesterday, and the sky this morning was particularly clear. Not a single cloud.
>
Wataru looked at the clock. It was near eight already. His uncle had his back turned to the sunlight and was sleeping soundly. Even Wataru’s muddled head remembered that it had only been a few hours since they fell asleep. If he didn’t wake his uncle, he’d doubtlessly sleep for a few more hours.
Not a sound came from his parents’ room. He wondered how his mother was doing. Was she sleeping? Was she pretending to be asleep? Did she not want to get up? Either way, Kuniko didn’t know that he’d come home the night before.
For a moment he was tempted to go in and talk to her, but eventually he thought better of it. He didn’t want to talk to anyone this morning. He didn’t want to be seen. Quiet as a mouse, he would run off to school. He’d be late if he didn’t hurry.
He washed his face, brushed his teeth, patted his hair down, and changed out of his wrinkled clothes. He had just shoved his textbooks and notebook into his schoolbag when it occurred to him that he didn’t need to go to school. He could go anywhere. He didn’t even have to come home.
He could go to Vision. He could forget everything.
No, I can’t. He would just be caught again by one of the karulah, and that’s if he was lucky. He could just as easily end up as screw-wolf food. In the end, he realized he didn’t have anywhere else to go but school.
His usual morning walking buddies had already left for school. The rule was firm: miss the meeting time and get left behind. Otherwise everyone would be late. Wataru was on his own today. By the time he reached the schoolyard, he could hear the five-minute bell sounding. He ran for the front gate, just like he had the day before. Nothing had changed. Nothing was different. He had just slept in and skipped breakfast, nothing else.
Unbelievably, class that day was completely normal. Their teacher was even a little more cheerful than usual. She chatted with them about how nice it was now that the rainy season was over. The Mitani household had imploded, and nothing had changed at all. The world went on.
A while ago, somebody-or-other’s Book of Prophecies had made the rounds at school. They even talked about it on TV. Apparently, the prophecies had originally been written on a stone tablet they found in an ancient ruin, and one of them predicted that mankind would perish in the year 2014. Among the guests appearing on the show was an expert on pyramids. He had annoyed the moderator by saying that, although it was fun to discuss these sorts of things, one shouldn’t take them too seriously. Even if you thought the world was coming to an end, there was no good reason to believe this particular prophecy. That makes sense, thought Wataru at the time. He was able to go to bed that night without thinking anymore about it.
The world went on. People could be destroyed, so simply it was almost comical, but the world went on. For the time being.
When the first-period class ended, the teacher called him to her desk.
“Wataru, the principal’s office just had a call from your mother. She wanted to know if you were in school or not. I told her you were sitting in class, but I wondered…” his teacher raised an eyebrow. “Is something the matter at home?”
“Mom’s been sick,” Wataru hurriedly explained. “She was sleeping when I left this morning, that’s why.”
“Oh, I see. That explains it. You came in all by yourself, then, didn’t you? When classes are over, you go straight home so your mother doesn’t have to worry too much.”
Wataru nodded and said yes and went back to his seat. For the rest of the day, he sat in class, the words around him blowing like a breeze over the smoking husk that was Wataru Mitani’s world.
By the time he left school at noon, the sun was hot enough to make him sweat. He heard a voice calling frantically. It made his ears throb it was so loud.
“Hey! Trying to give me the slip, are you? You still snoring there, sleepyhead?!”
It was Katchan. Wataru stopped. It seemed like forever since he had last seen his friend. Ten, twenty years, was it?
“Hey man, you’ve been totally out of it all day,” said Katchan, jogging up to him. “What’s up? You get your hands on a demo version of Saga III or something?”
“No, it’s nothing.”
“Huh, too bad. Hey, you should come over after lunch! My dad was out playing pachinko, and he got this soccer game as a prize. I tried it, and it’s totally addictive. You wanna play?”
Wataru looked at his friend’s smiling face in silence. He couldn’t think of anything to say. All he could think of was how nice it would be if he were Katchan. I want to be you.
“Hey! Why are you looking at me like that? Whoa, there something on my face?” Katchan began swiping at his face with his fingers.
“No,” Wataru shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t play today.”
Katchan noticed something was wrong. His searching eyes stopped a moment. “What is it, Wataru?”
“It’s nothing, really.”
“You got a cold? Stomach bug, or something? Or maybe…the plague?!”
“No, I’m fine.”
Katchan stared into Wataru’s face a moment. “Something’s wrong, that’s for sure.”
“Nothing’s wrong, really.” Wataru smiled a thin smile.
Katchan stepped back. “Well, guess I’ll be going home then.”
“Okay.”
“If, uh, something comes up, you give me a call, ’kay?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be home the whole time.”
“Right.”
“Okay, bye!”
Katchan ran off, pausing occasionally to look back. Wataru resumed walking only after he lost sight of his friend. Other kids who took the same route home passed him by. He walked on slowly. Soon, he was alone, like he had been that morning.
Wataru found himself standing in front of the haunted building. It looked the same as always, blue plastic tarps shining in the afternoon sun. Mr. Daimatsu had promised to beef up security on the building, but nothing seemed different today.
Wataru thought back on what he’d experienced beyond the gate. Oddly, the details of his adventure were getting fuzzy. That big red bird—what was it called again? His memory was fading like an old photograph. It seemed flat, less vivid. What was happening?
“Wataru…”
Hearing his name being called snapped Wataru back into reality. Who’s there?
It was Mitsuru. He was staring at him from beneath the red torii gate of the Mihashi Shrine. He waved for him to follow, and walked into the shrine grounds. Wataru was exhausted, but as soon as he saw Mitsuru, he remembered the scene by the gate.
What are you doing here?
He ran after the other boy like he had the day before. Mitsuru didn’t even look back to see if he was following. “Sit,” he said curtly, pointing to one of the shrine benches. Wataru did as he was told. He sat where Mitsuru had been sitting when they had first met at the shrine, days before.
From this vantage point, the shrine interior seemed somehow different. He had looked in countless times as he passed by the front gate, he had even sat right in this spot the other day, but he was sure he had never seen this shrine before. It was quiet here, a little world, surrounded by green. Even the old roof tiles of the main shrine, spotted by plaster filling in cracks here and there looked different. It had always seemed shabby before, but now he felt like he had come to some unknown place in a faraway land.
“Enjoying the view?” Mitsuru said, standing ahead of him, his arms crossed on his chest. “This is sacred ground.”
“Sacred ground?”
“A place where the gods reside,” Mitsuru said stiffly. His voice was harsh, his expression severe. Even the priest who ran the shrine never looked so serious, Wataru thought. A short and cheerful man, he always looked after the younger kids. He would emerge from the shrine every afternoon holding a yellow flag. He wanted to make sure cars would stop for the children crossing the street. He never would have talked about the gods without a generous smile.
Mitsuru looked toward the shrine, furiously silent. Just as Wataru felt l
ike he should say something, anything to break the silence, the other boy spoke.
“So you went?”
“Went where?” Wataru asked, even though he knew the answer. Mitsuru meant that place over there, there…what was it called again? He couldn’t remember. Uh-oh. He was sure that just a moment before he would have been able to remember, but for some reason his mind was drawing a blank.
Mitsuru turned and, for the first time, looked Wataru straight in the eye. “You went to Vision, right? Beyond the gate.”
Wataru opened his mouth. Vision? Was that the, that place—right, the desert. Something horrible had attacked him, he remembered that much. Wait, but hadn’t that been a dream?
Mitsuru stared at Wataru and took a step closer. His eyes narrowed, and the pupils became hard and focused.
“I…I went into the haunted building,” Wataru said with a shudder. “I went with my uncle.”
“Yes, I know. We met there.” Mitsuru said. “I haven’t forgotten. It was only yesterday.”
“Yeah, but…”
Mitsuru turned his head and spat. Wataru started wondering why he always felt like a fool whenever he met this boy. Still, he heard a voice inside saying that somehow, it was his own fault. It was a little Wataru inside him, shouting as loud as he could, jumping and waving his arms, trying to get his attention, and yet still growing smaller and fainter by the moment.
And then, the second before that tiny, tiny Wataru disappeared, it shouted out one thing with all its strength.
“You will forget about this place before you see one sunrise and one sunset.”
Wataru’s mouth opened and the words came out, but the voice was not his own. It was a low voice that resonated with power.
Mitsuru, who had been looking off, suddenly whirled around. His eyes were wide. Wataru, flustered, still not entirely convinced the voice had come from himself, put both his hands to his mouth like a giggling schoolgirl.
“I see.” The corner of Mitsuru’s mouth curled upward. “So one of the karulah caught you, did he.”
Wataru looked up at Mitsuru. That handsome face was smiling. He seemed very pleased. He looked as though he might break into dance any moment.
“The officiants do not lie. So,” he chuckled, “you’re not qualified. You’ll forget everything about Vision in a day.” Mitsuru went on, sounding immensely pleased with himself. Wataru had no idea what he was talking about. “Your memory won’t go away immediately. That would leave a suspicious blank. They allow it to linger for a day—no more. That way if kids think they’ve had a particularly vivid dream and tell their parents about it, it’ll sound like an absurd, unbelievable story. Nothing to worry about.”
Brave Story Page 15