by Fuyumi Ono
"It was. My purse was inside it. Somebody stole it."
"Yeah, but the door was locked."
"What about a master key?"
The men again exchanged suspicious expressions. "You trying to say that one of us stole your stuff?"
"We couldn't do it if we wanted to. Or were you intending to blame us and run out on the bill all along?"
The men sidled up to Youko. She put her hand on the hilt of the sword. "Not true."
"At any rate, you still owe us."
"I told you, my purse was stolen, too."
"Let's take it up with the cops, then."
"Wait a minute." Youko started to undo the covering of her sword. She said, "Call that old man who was here last night." It occurred to her that he could put in a good word for her.
"Old man?"
"From Kei. His name is Matsuyama."
The two men exchanged glances. "What do you want with him?"
"Ask him. He saw my rucksack."
One of the men stood guard at the front door and gestured with his chin to his younger companion, who ran off down the hall. He said to Youko, "What've you got there in your left hand?"
"Nothing with any money in it."
"Maybe that's for me to decide."
"After we talk to the old man."
The man glared at Youko, taking her curt reply to mean she was hiding something. Soon came the sound of pounding footsteps and the young man returned.
"He's not here."
"Not here?"
"His stuff's not here, either. It looks like he took off."
The man blocking the doorway stood there clucking his tongue. The sound made Youko's blood boil. It was him. That old man did it. She closed her eyes. Despite them both being kaikyaku, he had betrayed her.
Maybe he couldn't forgive the fact that she had grown up knowing only the good life after the war, or that she could understand the language while he couldn't. Or rather, that robbing her had been his intent all along. She thought she had found herself a kindred spirit. He'd led her to believe that as well. After being tricked by Takki she didn't have the courage to trust any of these people, and now she'd let herself be fooled by a kaikyaku like herself.
Something painful rose up in her throat, anger that called up visions of storm-wracked seas. When that happened she knew she was about to turn into some kind of monster. Buffeted by these waves, she spat out, "He stole it."
The younger man said, "He was just a tramp. He got tired of working here."
"Stop making excuses and hand that thing over. I'll decide whether it's worth anything or not."
Youko grasped the sword. "I am the injured party here."
"And we've got a business to run. We can't be letting people stay here for free."
"Then you should run your business better."
"Shut up and hand it over."
The two men closed on her. Youko set herself into a defensive position, and with a flick of her wrist unraveled the covering on the sword. A beam of sunlight spilling in through a small window glittered off the blade.
"What the hell … . "
"Get out of the way. I told you, I am the injured party here."
The younger man yelped and ran off. The man left behind wavered back and forth, clearly flustered.
"Move it. If it's money you want, chase after that old man."
"This is what you had planned all along!"
"I already told you what happened. You catch the old man and the money in the rucksack is all yours."
She thrust out the sword in front of her, the man retreated. She advanced three more steps, the man hurriedly turned and fled. Youko feinted as if giving chase, and then fled at a run.
Summoned by the other man, a posse of men came running, swords drawn. They poured out of the inn and pushed their way through the crowds. Youko noticed that her arm ached badly, the same place where the old man had tightly held her arm the night before.
She wasn't going to trust anybody ever again, this she promised herself.
4-5
After that she went back to camping outdoors.
For no particular reason, she followed the road to the next town. Having no money, she couldn't rent a room or buy a meal. She would have preferred to sleep next to the castle walls like the refugees, but the guards at the gate looked alert and trying to mingle in with the crowds would be a pain. She gave up on the idea.
Nobody will be your ally. No one will help you. There's not a person here who will let you get away with a damn thing.
Anyway, when she thought about being tricked and being betrayed, she told herself she'd rather sleep under the stars and chase the youma away with the sword.
After changing clothes, instead of being recognized as a teenaged girl, she was taken more often for a younger boy. There was not much law and order out here. She tangled with shady-looking types a number of times, but she had lost any reluctance at all when it came to using the sword to make a threatening point.
During the day she walked while keeping a sharp eye on passers-by. During the night she walked while fighting the youma. She couldn't sleep at night without risking an attack, so she became a nocturnal animal, keeping on her toes at night and sleeping during the day.
There were families that sold food from huts along the road, but they only did business during the daytime, and, at any rate, Youko didn't have any money, so her meals pretty much tapered off to nothing.
When the hunger got too much to bear, she checked her indignation and looked for work. But the towns were flooded with refugees and there was no work to be had. She certainly couldn't expect to be hired when she looked for all the world like a helpless child.
The youma showed up every night, and, just to make things that much worse, sometimes during the day. On top of it all, there were the visions she saw in the sword and the blue monkey tormenting her.
Watching her mother cry was heartbreaking. She couldn't shake tempting thoughts of how much better things would be if that monkey were dead. Nevertheless, the desire to just see her mother, to see the place where she used to live, always won out. Just as the desire to talk to somebody, anybody always prevailed.
The sword's visions visited her at night, responding to her longings to go home. Whether the sword's extraordinary powers only showed themselves at night, or whether it was simply because that's when she was more often awake, Youko didn't know.
On the nights that the youma's relentless attacks didn't give her time to think about home, those nights left her body sore. The nights she did have time, those nights left her heart hurting. She knew that she ought to ignore it when the sword started to glow, but she lacked the resolve to do so.
On this night as well, the phosphorescent light was gathering above the blade. She had fled from the youma, forged her way into the mountains, and was resting against a white tree.
She had seen the white trees here and there deep in the mountains. They were like no trees she had seen before. The bark was pure white, the branches reached as wide as a house, though not very high. She didn't think the uppermost branches were more than six or seven feet off the ground.
The leafless branches hung low to the ground, slender but so incredibly hard that not even the sword could cut through them. It was like the branches were made from some kind of white metal. Yellow fruit was ripening on the branches, but it too held as firmly as if welded on.
The white trees glowed even in the darkness, all the more so when the moon was out. Youko found them quite pleasing to look at.
Despite the low-hanging branches, when she had slipped through and crawled up next to the trunk, there was enough space to sit down. For some reason, youma attacked less frequently when she was beneath these white trees and the wild dogs hardly bothered her at all. So when she needed to take a break, the trees were her first resort.
Concealed under the tree, leaning back against the trunk, Youko looked at the sword. Ten days had passed since meeting that old man, the other kaikya
ku, in Takkyuu.
The sword cast off a faint light, the illuminated branches of the tree sparkled brightly. The fruit of the tree glowed in golden hues.
Instead of seeing her mother as usual, a number of people appeared, moving about. A group of young women, wearing black uniforms, in a room filled with rows of desks.
That's my classroom.
The girls seemed to be just hanging around, the kind of between-classes scene she was well used to. Seeing their beautiful blow-dried hair, pressed outfits, clean, white skin and comparing them to her present condition made Youko laugh out loud.
"Youko Nakajima, I heard she ran away."
Her friend's familiar-sounding voice got the ball rolling. All at once a storm of lively chatter rained down on Youko's ears.
"Ran away from home? You're kidding!"
"It's the truth! She wasn't sick, yesterday. She ran away. Last night I got a call from her mother. I was totally surprised!"
This must be from some time ago.
"I can't believe it!"
"And she was class president!"
"Yeah, with those serious types, you never know what they're up to when nobody's looking."
"That's for sure."
Youko had to laugh again. Her reality was so different from what they could imagine.
"Like there was this weird guy who showed up and took off with her. I heard he was a real gangbanger type."
"A guy? You think they were doing it?"
"Yeah, you think they eloped?"
"I heard that, too. You know how all the windows in the principal's office got broken? It was her boyfriend who did it."
"Serious?"
"Hey, this guy, what was he like?"
"I don't really know, but he had this long, bleached hair that gave off a real creepy vibe."
"I never would have figured that Nakajima was into the metal scene."
"Or something like that."
Keiki … .
Youko hovered there like a ghost, unable to move as she watched the commotion play out before her.
"Like, everybody knows she dyed her hair."
"Didn't she say it was her natural color?"
"There's no way! I mean, nobody's hair naturally turns that color."
"But I heard she left her backpack and coat in the classroom."
"Yeah, what was that about?"
"It was yesterday morning, somebody said that Moritsuka found them."
"But she ran off with that guy, didn't she? And with just the clothes on her back!"
"Don't be stupid. But if she didn't run away, then that means she just up and disappeared."
"Scary … . "
"Sooner or later, we're going to see those posters up at the train station."
"Stuff up on billboards, her mom walking around handing out flyers."
"Like, have you seen this girl? That kind of thing."
"Hey, you guys are getting way carried away with this."
"Yeah, it's got nothing to do with us."
"She ran away from home, that's all."
"That's right. It's only when it happens to an honor student that everybody gets all bent out of shape."
"She took off with her boyfriend. Nobody wants to admit it, but when a girl falls for a guy like that, nothing she does is going to make any sense at all."
"That's harsh. You were friends with her, weren't you?"
"I never did much more than talk to her. To tell the truth, I didn't like her that much."
"I know. It was always like she was better than the rest of us."
"Definitely."
"I heard her parents were super strict, always on about how she was supposed to be a 'young lady.'"
"That's what I'm saying. But it sure was useful, her always getting her homework done on time."
"True, true. Fact is, I haven't even touched today's math assignment."
"Hey, me, neither"
"Didn't anybody?"
"Nobody besides Nakajima."
"Youko, come back, please!"
Bright laughter gushed forth. At once the fraternal scene before her blurred, grew dim. The images bent and distorted, the figures dissolved away. Then in a twinkle vanished. The light went out and all that was left was the blade of the sword.
4-6
Youko lowered the sword, now painfully heavy in her hand. She had known all along, deep in her heart, that those she called her friends were not her friends at all.
For a brief moment of their lives they had been stuck together, shut up cheek by jowl in a little cage. Next year they would end up in different homerooms and forget about each other. After they graduated they would probably never meet again.
Even so, the tears welled up.
She knew these relationships were temporary at best. Yet, and perhaps all the more so, she had hoped to discover some greater truth hidden inside. She wished she could fly back to that classroom, plead her case before them. How would they respond then, she wondered.
They were living far from here in a peaceful country, young women who undoubtedly believed they experienced much misery and woe in their lives. Once upon a time, the same had been true of her.
The thought made Youko laugh so hard she ended up rolling around on the ground clutching her stomach. Curled up like that in a fetal position, it struck her that she was alone, truly alone, totally cut off from the rest of the world.
When she fought with her parents, when she had a falling out with her friends, or when she simply felt down for a spell and told herself how lonely she was, hadn't that been little more than an indulgence? She had a home to go home to, people who would not turn against her at the drop of a hat, who would console her. And if all that went away she could make more friends soon enough, even if they were only fair-weather friends.
Just then she heard the sound of a voice that, as many times as she had heard it, she still could not stand. Curled up on the ground she grimaced.
"You can't go back, I keep telling you."
"I don't want to hear it."
"But as long as you are thinking about it, shall we consider the substance of your hypothetical? Even supposing you could go back, nobody would be waiting for you. You simply are not a person worth waiting for."
In some way, the monkey's appearances were connected to the visions she saw in the sword. The blue monkey always showed up immediately after she saw a vision. It never did her any physical harm. It's just that he never said anything she wanted to hear, and in that grating tone of voice. Moreover, Jouyuu did not react to him in the slightest.
"My mother is!"
There came to her mind the image from another vision of her mother petting the stuffed doll. Even if she could not call her friends real friends, she could count on her mother to stand by her. A sudden welling up of homesickness made her chest hurt.
"My mom was crying for me. That's why, someday, I know I'm going home."
The monkey laughed all the harder. "But of course. She's your mother, after all. It's always so sad for a parent to lose a child.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Youko raised her head above the underbrush. There was the monkey's head, bathed in blue light, close enough to touch with her outstretched arm.
"Oh, she's not sad because you have gone missing, little girl. She's sad because her child is gone. Her sorrow amounts to nothing more than that. Can you not even understand this much?"
It was like getting hit in the stomach. Youko couldn't think of how to respond.
"If, for example, the child in question were not you--were perhaps the black sheep of the family--she would react the same. That is the kind of creatures mothers are."
"Enough."
"Oh, now don't you go giving me those angry looks. I tell you nothing but God's honest truth." The monkey howled with laughter, laughter that resounded brightly in ear-piercing shrieks. "It's the same as any domesticated animal. You raise the creature and it gets attached to you, now, doesn't it?"
"Shut
up!" She sprang to her feet, brandishing the sword.
"Oh, I'm scared, I'm scared." The monkey went on laughing. "You miss your parents, don't you? Even parents like yours."
"I'm not listening."
"I understand, little girl. There's no place like home, there's no place like home. Not that you're absolutely dying to see your parents again. What you want to go back to is a warm house and your playmates."
"What are you trying to say?"
The monkey giggled cheerfully. "No worries about being betrayed by your parents, right? Are you sure? But aren't you really nothing more than a pet?"
"Your point is?"
"That you, pet, are no different than a dog or cat. All goes swimmingly as long as you are gentle and affectionate. But bite the master's hand or chew up the furniture, then what? They won't beat you because they have reputations to protect. And yet, were society to look the other way, there'd be no end to the number of parents who'd like to strangle the little tykes."
"That's ridiculous."
"Is it? Perhaps it is." The monkey looked teasingly at her, playful eyes wide. "Parents do think so well of themselves for doting on their children. No, by gosh, I've got that wrong. It's how well they play the part of the loving parent, that's what they love about themselves the most."
The monkey's spirited screeches hurt her ears.
"You … . "
"True of you, too, eh?"
Youko stopped with her hand on the hilt of the sword.
"Playing the good child was fun, no? Because then you could take everything your parents said as right, right? Yet you still had that feeling you'd be punished if you disobeyed, which makes you no better than the dog who curries his master's favor, no?"
Youko bit her lip. She never worried about getting physically punished. But getting yelled at, or coming home to that heavy, brooding atmosphere, or not being allowed to buy something she wanted, or the imposition of other penalties--those were the things that weighed her down, that without her really knowing it made her continuously attentive to her parents' moods.
"It's not true that you were the good child. Not a good child at all. You were scared of rejection so you made yourself a convenient child for your parents to have around."