Brave Story

by Miyabe, Miyuki

  Wataru nodded, and went to the bathroom. He peered into the mirror to see an average-looking sleepy kid’s face staring back at him. No wounds, no scars. Just messy bed hair, and that was all.

  The last day of school! A fond farewell to books and classes. Forty days of summer vacation lying in wait. The sun singing warmly in the sky. Don’t let us down, make it a hot one, because today is when real summer begins!

  The principal had begun his usual address to the entire school assembled out in the schoolyard, and Wataru felt displaced from reality—lost in thought about the dream that wasn’t like a dream at all the night before. Around him, his classmates giggled and told jokes, and the teachers frowned and looked stern, and Wataru couldn’t care less. Katchan, sitting way ahead of him, would occasionally turn when the teachers weren’t looking to shoot some sort of signals in his direction. Wataru noticed, but didn’t bother to respond.

  At last the principal’s speech finished, and everyone began shuffling toward the classrooms. Katchan came running up to Wataru.

  “Oh man, can you believe it?!”

  Wataru stared blankly at Katchan.

  “Yo, sleepyhead wake up! What, don’t tell me you were up playing games all night?” Katchan seemed extremely excited, even for the last day of school. “Wait, don’t tell me you haven’t heard? Oh, well I guess your mom isn’t on the PTA, so maybe you wouldn’t have—of course neither of my parents are on it either, but my old man’s a volunteer at the fire department see—” Katchan rattled on at an incredible speed, answering his own questions before Wataru had a chance to get a word in edgewise.

  “So, what is it?” Wataru asked flatly. No matter what Katchan could possibly have to say, it couldn’t begin to compare with what he had experienced last night. He could tell him the world was ending, and it would have all the excitement of going to a lizard exhibition after watching Jurassic Park.

  “You don’t know. Wataru. You don’t know?!” Katchan looked astonished and overjoyed all at once. “Oh goody, I found someone who hasn’t heard yet! Now I get to be the one who tells him!” Classic Katchan.

  “Kenji Ishioka’s gone missing!”

  The two boys had just reached the landing of the staircase that went up to the second floor classrooms. Wataru stopped short, and a girl walking behind him smacked into him.

  “Oh, sorry, Wataru,” she said, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder. “Don’t stop all of a sudden like that!”

  Wataru rocked to the side. His eyes were fixed, staring at the space above Katchan’s face. He looked like he had completely lost his mind.

  Katchan stepped back. “Whoa, Wataru, you okay? How hard did ya hit him, Sanae?”

  Saying nothing, Wataru took a step closer to Katchan. His friend quickly took a step back. The girl Sanae walked over, a look of concern on her face.

  “Kenji Ishioka? You mean that Kenji Ishioka?” Wataru asked, barely breathing.

  “The very one,” Katchan said with authority. “Sixth grade. Mean. You know any other creeps with that name?”

  “He’s missing?”

  “Gone without a trace, since this morning,” Sanae joined in. “They called the cops, made a big deal about it. His mom called the school. That’s why the sixth-grade teachers are all upset this morning.”

  “That’s right, you live near him, don’t you,” Katchan said to her. “My dad’s a volunteer at the fire department. He says they’re out looking for him now.”

  “If you ask me, they’re making a big deal out of nothing,” Sanae said, brushing her hair off her shoulders. “Kenji goes out every night. You know Makiko? Her parents own this building by the station, they’ve got a video game parlor there. They say that Kenji and his gang are there until all hours of the night sometimes, and they won’t leave no matter how many times they get warned.”

  “Sure, he may go out at night, but this is the first time he hasn’t come back,” Katchan explained. “And today was supposed to be this big day—something about him being in an audition for a television show.”

  “So there’s no way he wouldn’t come home?”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Sanae said with a sickeningly cute smile. “Maybe he was afraid he’d go to the audition and get cut again, so he ran away from home? There’s no way they’d let someone like Kenji go on television, anyhow. He looks like a bulldog.”

  Katchan was ecstatic. “Totally! He’s got the nose for it and everything.”

  “Like an idiot gorilla.”

  “You know it. I wonder why no one has ever told him to his face.”

  “Be my guest!”

  “Me? No way.”

  “Chicken!”

  Katchan did his best impersonation of a chicken clucking, and the two burst into laughter. A strange high-pitched voice interrupted the laughter. It took Wataru a split second to realize that it was his. “Is it only Kenji who’s missing?”

  Katchan and Sanae turned back to him. “Huh?”

  Wataru averted his eyes. Mechanically, he repeated his question. “Is only Kenji missing? Did any of his friends go missing too?”

  Katchan and Sanae looked at each other. “I don’t know…”

  “But maybe…” Katchan began, catching the scent of another potential rumor. “If three of them disappeared together, now that would be cause a-plenty for all this fuss.”

  “Hey, Wataru, what’s wrong?” Sanae asked, grabbing Wataru by the elbow. “You look pale.”

  The school bell was ringing. Students were shuffling into their classrooms.

  Wataru opened his mouth, saying something.

  “Huh? What?” The other two leaned toward him. “What did you say?”

  “Mitsuru. What about Mitsuru? Is he here today?”

  “Mitsuru? Is he talking about the kid in the next class?” Sanae looked at Katchan. Katchan shook his head. “I don’t see what Mitsuru has to do with anything.”

  “Oh, but maybe—hey, hey, Misa!”

  Sanae caught a face she recognized in the crowd of students going by them on the stairs. One of the girls stopped and looked around.

  “What?”

  “Mitsuru’s in your class, right? Is he here today?”

  “Nope. Didn’t see him at the morning speech, and he’s never late to class.”

  “No kidding. Thanks!”

  Misa waved and ran off to class. Wataru’s vision dimmed, his skin felt cold, he could barely stand. Ashikawa took the day off. Ashikawa was gone too.

  So long. Goodbye.

  Was that what he’d said?

  Sanae’s grip on Wataru’s elbow tightened. “Katsumi, wake up! Your friend’s anemic or something. He’s gonna collapse. Quick, get a teacher!”

  “No, I’m fine,” Wataru said slowly. “I’m really fine. I’m not going to faint.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Um, Sanae…”

  “Huh? What? What’s wrong?”

  “You’re hurting my arm.”

  Sanae stood flustered for a moment, and then quickly released his arm.

  “Oh, sorry! Sorry.”

  “Don’t know yer own strength,” Katchan said, grinning, as she smacked him on the shoulder.

  Still concerned, the two of them got on either side of Wataru and walked with him to the classroom. Katchan looked like he wanted to say something, but Sanae kept him quiet with a stern glare.

  Wataru stood in the doorway to the classroom, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. The scenes from last night played through his head like he was skipping through a movie on DVD, jumping to each moment, replaying them in vivid clarity.

  The classroom was buzzing. It was clear that Kenji’s mysterious disappearance was the topic for the day. Their teacher left the room twice during the first class, returning each time with a clouded expression on his face.

  Report cards were handed out, and just before they were released to go home, their teacher was called out again. Left on their own, the students erupted with worried chatter and mounting cu
riosity. It was the same in every classroom. The sound spilled out into the hallways until it seemed like the whole school was participating in one giant conversation.

  When the teacher finally returned, he announced that all students would be going home in groups, escorted by PTA-appointed parental chaperones. They would all go down to the schoolyard in order, so until their class was called, they would have to wait patiently at their desks. Message delivered, the teacher left them again.

  The excitement had risen to a fever pitch by this point. A few brave souls sneaked into other classrooms to gather information. Some students had brought in contraband cell phones in their bags, and they called home. Their friends clustered around the desk, trying to hear what was being said.

  In the middle of it all, Wataru sat listlessly in his chair, half of his mental energies committed to the sole task of replaying last night’s events. Katchan and Sanae got up and went over to him.

  “Something is definitely wrong with you, Wataru,” Sanae said seriously.

  “What’s the matter?”

  How easy it would be if it were something he could explain, something they would believe.

  A shriek rose from one of the clusters of students in a corner of the room.

  “What?!” Katchan shouted, whirling around. “Don’t shout like that!”

  The circle broke up, leaving one girl in the middle with a cell phone still pressed to her ear. She was gripping a friend’s hand tightly. They both looked ready to cry.

  One of the other girls from the group walked into the middle of the room, her face drawn, and told the class, “They found two of the sixth graders.”

  Wataru looked up.

  “Two? You mean Kenji’s friends?” Katchan wasted no time in asking.

  “Yeah. Collapsed in Senkawa Park.”

  “Both of them?

  “Both.”

  “Were they dead?” someone asked.

  “No, not dead, but it’s strange.”

  “Whaddya mean, ‘strange’?”

  “They weren’t hurt at all, but they say they don’t remember a thing—where they went the night before, how they got there—nothing!”

  Somebody started crying, which set off a few of the other girls. Sniffing could be heard throughout the classroom. A boy looking out of the classroom window shouted, “Hey! It’s a television crew!”

  A few students ran over and threw open the windows. They could hear the sound of helicopter blades coming closer. Not one, but several.

  Wataru stood. He couldn’t stay here. Not even for another minute.

  Everyone was distracted, except Katchan and Sanae.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Home.”

  “Home? You can’t…”

  “I don’t feel good. I’m going to go talk to the teacher.”

  He brushed them aside and walked out of the classroom. His ears were throbbing. Everything seemed muted, like someone had pushed the mute button on the world. He ran down the stairs, then down the hall toward the back entrance to school, taking care to avoid the teachers’ room. Luckily, no one saw him or tried to stop him. They had bigger things to worry about. Wataru went outside, still wearing his school shoes.

  In contrast to the heated atmosphere inside, the town looked as normal as ever. The hot summer sun beat down on deserted streets. Wataru didn’t pass anyone on his way out. He ran and ran until he was out of breath, then ran some more until once again, he found himself standing in front of the Daimatsu building.

  He looked at the blue tarps covering the haunted building. They hung undisturbed as always, a veil shrouding a secret. A closed lid on a jar.

  Wataru lifted one of the tarps as he had many times before, and slid quickly inside. He realized this was the first time he had ever come here during the day. The light shining through the gaps lit the inside rather brightly. The tarps gave little shade—in fact, it felt more like a greenhouse.

  For a full thirty seconds, Wataru stood still and held his breath. A drop of sweat trickled down the small of his back. His heart was beating wildly in his throat. He swallowed once, then twice, trying in vain to force it back down into his chest where it belonged.

  He saw where he had lain sprawled on the ground the night before.

  Where Kenji and his goons had pushed down Mitsuru, where they had kicked him.

  And that monster—that’s right! Balbylone, wings of death, daughter of darkness—that horrible thing had been here.

  Wataru took a step, walking closer to the place where Balbylone had spread her wings, where she had attacked Kenji and swallowed him whole, where his scream had ended in cold, abrupt silence. He walked like he had irons chained to his ankles, dragging them with every step.

  And then he saw it.

  A single sneaker lay on its side on the dirt floor—like it had just been taken off and discarded. Wataru crouched down and picked it up. It was white, with blue and yellow stripes. It bore a famous sporting brand logo. It was brand-new.

  Kenji’s sneaker.

  Wataru screamed silently, and threw the sneaker down. It hit the floor and bounced two or three times until it fell with the laces facing away from him.

  He ran.

  Ripping up the tarp, he barreled out into the street. He was running so fast he tripped and slammed down onto the concrete. He was startled by the sudden heat of the pavement on his palms.

  He had stood up and brushed himself off when he started to cry. Crying wouldn’t do any good—he wasn’t even sure why he was crying, but the tears fell all the same.

  Mitsuru—I have to talk to him, to get him to help Kenji. He can’t do what he did, it’s not right. He shouldn’t call on things like that. Maybe it’s not too late…

  Tears clouded his eyes, until he could barely see where he was going. He stumbled forward, until he ran into something soft. The soft thing had hands, they were grabbing him.

  “What’s this? Something the matter, son?”

  It was the priest from the Mihashi Shrine. He was wearing a white kimono and flowing white trousers, like always. His round face looked kind, and his bristly eyebrows, streaked with white, loomed closer.

  “You—ah, we met recently, did we not?”

  Wataru found he was standing at the entrance to the shrine. He could see the red crossbeams of the torii gate just behind the priest. Leafy green trees swaying gently in the breeze. Doves perched on shrine roof tiles.

  “Have you…” Wataru began; then a ray of light stabbed through the chaos in his mind. He can help me. He grabbed the priest’s sleeve tightly with both hands. “Have you seen a boy, like me? He comes here a lot. He’s got a pretty face, like a doll. His name is Mitsuru. He lives near here—have you seen him? Do you know where he lives? Have you ever talked to him?”

  Wataru yanked on his sleeve, but the short stocky priest stood firm and unmoving—though his expression was one of surprise. Peering at Wataru, he asked, “This boy, he’s around your age?”

  “Yes, that’s right!”

  “Mitsuru, yes, I see him here quite often. I’ve even spoken with him. He lives in the apartment building behind the shrine here. Is he a friend of yours?”

  “Which apartment building is it?”

  Two apartment buildings stood behind the Mihashi Shrine, one with a miniature red water tower on its roof, the other one taller, with chocolate-colored siding on the walls.

  “Now that I’m not sure of. Never asked for his address.”

  Wataru turned and tried to dash off, but the priest caught him by the arm. “Son, wait. Tell me what’s wrong. You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Forgive me, but I don’t have a second to lose.

  “I’m sorry,” Wataru said, knocking the priest’s hand off his arm. He ran straight into the shrine grounds, feet pounding over the gravel, and out the rear exit. The priest didn’t follow. He probably wouldn’t have been able to catch up to him anyway.

  Wataru headed first toward the apartment
building with the water tower. It was closest. He ran into the main entrance lobby, and stood before the mailboxes. Breathlessly, he checked the nameplates. The name Ashikawa was nowhere to be found.

  He checked a second time. Nothing. He ran back outside. The other apartment building with the chocolate-colored walls stood with its back to the shrine, so he had to run down the length of the building to get to the entrance. Sweat ran into his eyes, making them sting. As he ran, wiping at his face with his hand, an ambulance siren sounded in the distance. It came closer and then faded away. It went off in the direction of the school.

  He finally reached the entrance, finding a doorman in a moss green suit sweeping the floor by a pair of open automatic doors. He turned and looked over his shoulder, broom still moving, as Wataru ran past.

  This building had almost twice the number of mailboxes as the last one. Before he could start checking them, he doubled over and put his hands on his knees, catching his breath. The tiles were so brightly polished he could see his reflection. A single drop of sweat fell to the floor.

  The Ashikawas lived in apartment 1005. Wataru charged headlong through the entrance hall, running straight into a set of automatic sliding doors with a loud smack! The sound startled him.

  This building had a security system. To get to the apartments, he had to go through another set of locked doors, with an intercom for calling people’s apartments.

  Just my luck!

  There was a panel with a button and a microphone directly to the left of the door. Fingers shaking, Wataru punched in the number 1005, when someone grabbed his shoulder from behind. It was the doorman he’d seen on the way in.

  “You all right, kid?”

  The doorman turned him around, and the man’s hand on his shoulder made his legs go weak.

  “You ran straight into that door! Look, you’ve got a bloody nose.”

  Wataru felt a warm trickle down his lip.

  “You don’t live here, do you? What are you here for? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

  As he was talking, Wataru heard a woman’s voice come from the intercom behind him saying, “Yes, who is it?”

  “Ms. Ashikawa?” Wataru said, turning back toward the microphone. “I’m a friend of Mitsuru’s! I’m looking for him. Is he home? Can I see him?”