Black Fairy Tale

by Otsuichi

  Hitomi is in Shiozaki’s house. She must be. And I was right—that house must be the same one Kazuya saw.

  After some hesitation I borrowed Mr. Ishino’s phone to call the police. As it was cordless I was able to make the call away from Saori and her uncle. Had they heard me talking, explaining myself would have been difficult—they thought I was calling my parents.

  Telling myself, I’m right about this, I summoned the courage to push those three crucial numbers: 1–1–0. Until that moment I had thought it pointless to call the police, but I had to at least try.

  Over the line came a voice that sounded like it belonged to a middle-aged man; it informed me I was talking to the police.

  I started by asking about a missing girl named Hitomi Aizawa. “Um . . . Do you—do you know who she is?”

  He didn’t.

  “She went missing over a year ago.”

  Then I told him that there was a chance she was being held captive in someone’s house.

  From the phone came a half-hearted, “Oh . . .” Then he said, “Well, we’ll investigate it on our end. We’ll need to call you back. What’s your phone number?”

  For a moment I didn’t say anything. The phone number would have to be Mr. Ishino’s number. If the police call it and he or Saori answers, what will they think about me? I might have to confess to them, under awkward circumstances, that I’ve been lying about my friendship with Kazuya. I didn’t want that to happen.

  “Um . . . Do I absolutely have to tell you?”

  Immediately his tone turned distrustful.

  I realized that by not telling him the number, I’d made him suspicious of me. But there was nothing to do about it; the damage was done.

  He accused me of pulling a prank. I insisted I wasn’t, but the call ended without my having gotten anywhere.

  The next day I went to Melancholy Grove with new resolve.

  Shiozaki always came at one in the afternoon. I talked with Kyoko until then.

  She seemed interested in Saori.

  In the middle of our conversation she said casually, “I wonder how Saori feels about her brother.”

  She may not have fully accepted that he’s dead. That was what I thought, but I couldn’t find the right words to say it.

  “I get the feeling she still thinks about him a lot,” said Kyoko.

  I told her about the gold watch that he had with him at the time of the crash, and how Saori kept it as a keepsake.

  “A watch?”

  “It broke in the accident. Its hands stopped at the moment of impact.”

  I thought back to what Saori had said on the way home the day before. What had Saori and Kyoko talked about? I wanted to know but hesitated to ask.

  The clock inside the café pointed to one o’clock. The door opened and the clear chime rang, announcing the arrival of a customer.

  Shiozaki entered in his usual black coat, walking with unwavering, evenly paced steps. He crossed in front of the counter, headed for the dark area in back.

  I lowered my head and brought forth my courage. I was scared. But now that the police thought I was pranking them, I couldn’t think of any other way.

  “What’s wrong?” Kyoko tilted her head.

  “It’s nothing.” I gave her a slight smile, stood, and walked over to the table where Shiozaki sat.

  From inside my pocket I took out an old newspaper clipping. Printed on it was Hitomi Aizawa’s photograph.

  I stopped in front of him and said, “Shiozaki.”

  His eyes met mine. “Hello.”

  I noticed that my body was shaking. If I’m going to turn back, now’s my chance. But I didn’t know what else there was for me to do.

  “There’s something I’d like to ask you.” I held out Hitomi’s photograph. “I’m looking for this girl. Do you know her?”

  I struggled to hide the wavering in my voice. He took the newspaper clipping from my hand. As he did our fingers touched. The dreadful coldness of his hand made me feel as if my whole body had been covered in ice.

  For a short time, he looked at the picture. Then he looked at me.

  “Can’t say I do.” He handed the clipping back to me.

  That was all we said to each other that day in the café.

  I had expected that kind of response. But if he was the kidnapper, he wouldn’t be able to maintain his composure after seeing that picture.

  He must be wondering why I’m looking for Hitomi, and why I asked him about it. To find out—or to keep me from talking and to keep her hidden—he might resort to violence.

  Good. Let him, I thought. Because the moment he did, I’d have my chance to expose him for what he was.

  Part 4

  1

  —An Author Of Fairy Tale

  “You’re waiting for your chance, aren’t you?” said Hitomi from the sofa. “Or is it that you think another killing—or the addition of a new resident to the cellar—would be too risky?”

  Miki was packing all of his belongings. When he had moved to the house he hadn’t brought much with him, so he had very little to pack—mostly clothes and books. But his other preparations were taking him days to finish.

  “When I wanted to see the outside, you took the car, remember? I was seen then,” Hitomi said. “And just because you bought a new one, that doesn’t mean anything. That visitor knows your face. And your name too. You can’t escape. You’ll have to deal with it.”

  She narrowed her eyes and smiled calmly. Sitting on the sofa like that, the limbless girl looked like a doll.

  Leaving her there, Miki went down to the cellar. Almost all of the rooms in the house were in order except for that one.

  As he came into the cellar he heard Yukie singing. It was the same sad English song she always sang. Her voice came from the darkness beyond the reach of the room’s dim light, echoing off the bare brick walls, filling the cellar.

  He transferred the large pile of bricks from the corner of the room to the foot of the steps. It took him a number of trips to move them all.

  Yukie’s singing stopped.

  “What are you doing?” she asked from the darkness. Then suddenly she gave a painful groan and said, “My ankle’s on a jagged rock and it’s hurting!”

  “Sorry,” Shinichi apologized. Miki could hear the sound of their massive body moving about.

  He told them that he was leaving the house.

  “Oh, I see,” said Shinichi. Miki sensed his nod. “So this is goodbye, then.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Yukie.

  “I’ll explain it to you later,” Shinichi answered.

  Miki left the cellar and went back to the second-floor study where Hitomi was. When the girl in the sack saw him, her face went sad.

  “If you’re not thinking of taking me with you, then you either have to kill me or you have to hide me somewhere nobody will ever find me. You’re trying the latter. Listen, just one last time, I want to see the sun.”

  Miki picked her up in his arms. The girl was just a head and a torso and he lifted her easily. Her long hair, brightly shimmering as if it were damp, flowed through the air as he moved.

  “When you get caught, I’ll testify that you were good to me.”

  Miki laid her down next to the window.

  2

  After showing Hitomi’s picture to Shiozaki, I spent my time battling fear. He could strike at any moment, I thought.

  The café kitchen was equipped with an assortment of potential weapons. At least five chef’s knives, ranging from small to large, were easily available. But I didn’t feel like taking any of them. Having to spend my days with a knife hidden inside my coat seemed like too much trouble. Besides, I didn’t have any confidence that if he came from behind and pinned my arms I’d be able to stab him anyway.

  In the end I decided to take a paring knife I’d found in the back of one of the cupboards. It was small, the kind that folds shut. I didn’t know if it would actually be of any help, but I needed a blade to steady my hea
rt.

  I wrote a letter to Saori and her uncle. If anything happens to me they’ll search my things. They’ll find the letter, learn why I came to Kaede, and why I suddenly vanished.

  If I disappear the police will have to act. I wrote about Shiozaki in the letter. If he attacks me, I win.

  Every morning I realized anew that I was still alive. When I walked outside and when I was alone at home, I looked in all directions and listened for every sound. My heart was always beating fast. Even the slightest noise would make me nearly scream.

  But Shiozaki didn’t come to me. In fact, he had even stopped coming to Melancholy Grove.

  *

  Everything has an ending. But I didn’t know if this would be a happy ending.

  It was three days since I had shown the photo to Shiozaki.

  It was to be the last day of my inquiry.

  *

  The morning was terribly cold, and when I awoke my hands and feet were freezing. My toes tingled with a faint numbness. I curled up in the futon, wrapping my hands around my feet to warm them. As I did I felt strangely at peace. I cherished the moment.

  Soon my heart began to beat faster. I opened my eyes, a premonition piercing through me. It was indistinct but had to do with my investigation. This has to come to an end someday, I’m sure of it. And when it does, it will be on a day with a cold morning, like this one. I couldn’t explain why, but I was convinced of it.

  I turned my thoughts to Kazuya and then Hitomi, and finally I crept out from the futon.

  “And to think it’s April,” Saori’s uncle grumbled. He put his arms through the sleeves of his jacket and left for work. After we saw him off, Saori and I headed for the café.

  I was worried about what I should do if Shiozaki appeared while Saori and I were walking together. Saori, through no fault of her own, would be drawn into my plan. To be honest, I’d spent as much time as possible away from Saori the past two days.

  But after three days without contact from Shiozaki I had stopped taking as many precautions. Although that morning’s premonition was still on my mind, I figured we could at least walk together.

  “Spring break is ending soon,” Saori said to me. Her breath was white. Her nose was red, and it caused her to sniffle constantly as she talked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I think the new school year starts the day after tomorrow.”

  “So you’ll be studying for the college exams now.”

  Will I be at the opening ceremony? I didn’t want to go home with things left unfinished.

  “I want to stay here longer.”

  Saori looked at me uneasily.

  The café had a large space heater. I shamelessly sat down in the seat closest to it and read through The Eye’s Memory again.

  By the time the hands of the clock pointed to twelve not a single customer had come.

  A little before noon Saori left. I was sitting by the heater thinking about Shiozaki when she took off her apron and said, “I’m going to Kyoko’s house for a bit. Say bye to the boss for me.”

  I nodded. Kimura was back in the kitchen. After she had left, I went to tell him.

  “But this isn’t delivery day,” he said, touching his mustache.

  Shiozaki had always come to Melancholy Grove at one in the afternoon. But when there was no sign of him at one, my emotions became a complicated mixture of relief and worry.

  It was unsettling. I didn’t know what he was thinking or where he was. Maybe he’s already escaped.

  When I came to that thought it felt right.

  “That’s one less regular,” Kimura grumbled. “What the hell happened to him?” He looked disappointed that Shiozaki had stopped coming—and maybe even a little worried about him.

  Sumida, who had been talking with Kimura, said, his straw still in his mouth, “And he didn’t say anything about going on a vacation.” His glass of orange juice was empty save for the ice.

  Sumida had popped in an hour after Saori had left. Of course, he’d come to see her. When I had told him she was out, he had looked dejected, his head lowering.

  I considered further my surmise that Shiozaki had fled.

  If he did, then what’s at his home? Did he dispose of all the evidence before he left the house? What evidence would there be? Something he’d needed to keep Hitomi captive?

  First, her clothes. Clothes Hitomi would wear . . . I had seen women’s clothing inside the house. But the Hitomi Kazuya had seen hadn’t had any arms or legs and was wrapped in a sack. In that case she wouldn’t be able to wear regular clothing.

  But maybe the clothing I had seen was what she’d been wearing at the time of her kidnapping.

  After following my thoughts that far, I realized something else that would be necessary for a captive. A place to keep her. If Shiozaki had gotten rid of all the evidence, would he also have disguised the existence of the cellar? It seemed like the windows had been covered by the brick planters within the last two months. All he had to do was seal up the entrance and no one would ever discover the cellar was there.

  What other evidence would there be? What could be used to identify him as the kidnapper?

  I stood. I was angered by my foolishness. And I was terrified. Wasn’t there something important, something I had to find?

  Hitomi Aizawa herself. If anyone were to find her alive, it would be fatal for him. So, what would he do?

  He might take her with him, or he might make sure she stays silent forever.

  I had to go straight to Shiozaki’s house.

  *

  “I need you to drive me somewhere!”

  Sumida looked at me in surprise. “What? Where?”

  “It doesn’t matter! Get up!” I tugged at the sleeve of his sweater and pulled him to his feet. “I’ll tell you in the car!”

  Behind the counter Kimura watched us, looking amused. “Just drive her,” he ordered Sumida, his voice calm. I didn’t know if he said it because my distress irritated him, but whatever his reason, I was thankful he did.

  I pushed Sumida out the front of the café. I left without paying—not wanting to take the time, I decided I’d pay later.

  The outside must have been cold, but I was too excited to feel it. I found Sumida’s car in the café parking lot and opened the passenger-side door. We got in.

  “First,” he said in a calming voice, “you need to settle down. You stretched out my sleeve pulling it like that.”

  “I’m sorry.” I took a deep breath. “But I’m in a hurry. So hurry to Shiozaki’s house.”

  Sumida opened his mouth in surprise. “Why?”

  “I’ll explain on the way. First, please, just start the car.”

  He quietly turned the ignition and started the car. We left the Melancholy Grove parking lot and headed for Shiozaki’s house.

  “So tell me why. Why am I driving to Shiozaki’s house?”

  I wasn’t sure whether or not I should tell him about Hitomi. When I considered it a little more rationally, I thought that I really shouldn’t get him involved. But in the end, I decided to tell him of the possibility that Shiozaki had kidnapped a little girl.

  “I don’t want you to be shocked when I say this.”

  “I can’t be any more shocked than when I first saw that fierce look on your face.”

  “I need you to listen to me seriously.”

  After a beat Sumida said, “Okay,” and nodded. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead. Suddenly I felt reassured. It’s better to go with him than by myself, I thought.

  I told him about Hitomi, and then about my surmise that she was being kept in the cellar of Shiozaki’s blue brick house. Everything else, like how Shiozaki had caused Kazuya’s death, I refrained from discussing. Telling him about my left eye would have made things complicated.

  “Three days ago, I showed a newspaper clipping to Shiozaki. It had Hitomi’s photograph on it.”

  I explained that I had been waiting for Shiozaki to come after me, but I had just arrived at the conclusion t
hat he had silenced the girl and fled.

  Sumida listened earnestly to me. When I had finished, he said, his face pale and his voice weak, “But . . . Shiozaki? I can’t believe it.”

  “Please believe me.”

  “But . . .”

  The car advanced along the snaking road that led to the house. The road began to slope uphill; both sides were flanked with cedar trees. We passed the site where Kazuya had died.

  I said, “That’s fine. You don’t need to believe me. I’ll go to the house alone and you can wait in the car. There’s a strong chance that Shiozaki may still be there. It’s going to be dangerous. If I don’t come back, I want you to go the police.” I was scared, but I didn’t want to be unreasonable with him.

  “It’s going to be dangerous?”

  “Probably. But I have a weapon of sorts. A paring knife.”

  I thought I saw Sumida’s face grow even paler.

  “But . . . even so, I can’t let you go alone.”

  I was so grateful for his words I thought I might cry.

  We went around a corner and passed the side road to Kyoko’s house.

  Soon I could see the short leafless trees that mingled with the frozen-looking cedars farther up the slope.

  Nothing moved, as if the merciless cold had imprisoned all life. The trees might have been carved from stone.

  Low clouds shut away the sun, shading everything in gloomy darkness.

  Finally the blue brick house came into view above the slope. A chill ran down my spine.

  “Don’t take the car onto the property,” I said. “We’ll park close by and walk the rest of the way.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Otherwise, if Shiozaki is still there he might notice us.”

  I wanted one more look around the house before we opened the door. Sumida drove the compact car up the inclined road. I closed my eyes and cast off the surging terror. My body was trembling, and not from the temperature. I hugged my body and endured.

  I made a silent prayer to Kazuya’s left eye.

  When he came to the house to save Hitomi, how much terror did he endure?