Seventeen

by Hideo Yokoyama

  “Why’s he still in his pajamas?” Yuuki whispered to Yumiko, who had just come back into the kitchen. Yumiko lowered her voice, too, as she always did.

  “He’s got a bit of a cold.”

  “Does he have a temperature?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Did you check?”

  “No.”

  “Has he taken any medicine?”

  “Try asking him yourself.”

  Yuuki hated the way Yumiko looked when she suggested something like this. There was a mixture of compassion and cruelty in her eyes. You’re his father, aren’t you? Three years ago, Yuuki had slapped her cheek when she had asked him that question out loud; now she just spoke it with her eyes.

  They’d lived together ever since they were university students, so they pretty much knew everything there was to know about each other. Except for the disappearance of his father, which Yuuki had kept to himself. He’d told her that his father had died when he was in junior high. He hadn’t lied out of an inferiority complex about his upbringing. He was afraid that talking about his father’s disappearance might raise questions in Yumiko’s mind as to how Yuuki’s mother had managed to support her family.

  When he was a kid, there had been a succession of male visitors to their home. Yuuki had spent many a sleepless night in the corner of the outdoor storage shed. When his mother had passed away of heart failure nine years ago, Yuuki had heaved a sigh of relief. For an independent working man, having a mother with a dark past had made him vulnerable.

  Yuuki and Jun just weren’t compatible. At least that was how Yumiko seemed to see it. She never took sides, but she served as a buffer between them. If they could continue to interact through Yumiko, then all would be well. He’d resigned himself to the situation. In about ten years, Jun would leave home. As long as things didn’t get worse between them before then, it’d be better to let the distant father-son relationship continue.

  “Jun?”

  “Yeah?”

  Jun looked up at his father, his eyes devoid of emotion.

  “You’ve got a cold?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Temperature?”

  “No.”

  “Did you take it?”

  “Hmm.”

  “It’s not good to lie right under the air conditioner, you know.”

  “Hmm.”

  Yuuki went to take a shower.

  He guessed that Jun’s hmms were his way of trying to get his dad to be quiet. On the other hand, they could also be taken as a sign of agreement. Yuuki couldn’t be sure. Ever since he was five years old, Jun had used this sound a lot. To avoid being hit by his father, or, more likely, to show his disobedience.

  There was one occasion when Yuuki had seen through Jun’s little game and completely lost it with the boy. Jun had stumbled when his father slapped him and he had grabbed a pair of scissors from the table, just for a moment. But he hadn’t pointed them at Yuuki. He was still too much of a child to hate his father. Jun had held them so the tips of the blades were pointing at his own eyes, and begun to howl like a wild beast.

  Yuuki finished his cold-water shower and left with his overnight bag of clothes.

  He let out some heavy sighs on his way to the hospital. Jun had looked feverish to him, and he had wanted to put his hand on his forehead. But he couldn’t even make that simple gesture of affection anymore.

  He’d grown up longing for a family. A father and a mother and children. He’d imagined that this would bring constant laughter and happiness. He’d been in search of happiness when he’d decided to have children. Jun and Yuka were supposed to satisfy that craving he had in his heart. Yuuki had never even thought about his own children growing up and becoming parents themselves.

  He wondered now whether he should have stayed single. Never fallen in love, never married, never had children. He should have just rotted away and died alone, despising and cursing his father.

  He pressed his foot on the accelerator. He was on his way to the hospital, where his friend was in God knows what condition, and instead of being worried about him he found himself hoping that Anzai would save his own soul. Now Yuuki felt even more dejected.

  11

  The prefectural hospital had just been given a fresh coat of white paint and was dazzling in the midday sun.

  Even though it was the Obon holiday, the parking lot was full, and Yuuki was forced to drive to the backup parking lot, which was quite far away.

  He got out of the car and hurried as fast as he could to the hospital building. There was a large-screen TV set up in the ground-floor lobby showing footage from inside the Fujioka Municipal Sports Center. A woman was walking with a handkerchief pressed to her eyes, a police officer supporting her with an arm around her shoulder. It must have been shot right after she had identified the body of her loved one. Many of the people in the hospital lobby were expressionless as they watched the event unfold on the screen. Yuuki overheard an old lady sitting on the end of one of the sofas muttering, “I wish someone would weep for me like that.”

  Yuuki got Anzai’s room number from reception and headed up by elevator to the fourth-floor surgical unit. Down toward the end of the corridor, on the right-hand side, he found Room 408. It appeared to be a single-occupancy room.

  He knocked. After a short wait, the door opened a crack and the pale face of Sayuri Anzai peered out.

  It was at that moment that he realized how serious it was. Yuuki had been worried, but he’d been caught up in the vortex of a huge, unforeseen disaster and hadn’t had the capacity to think properly about other people’s problems. And anyway, this was Anzai the invincible—probably even immortal. It was impossible to imagine this man affected by any kind of illness or injury.

  Sayuri looked haggard. Anxiety, misery, fear—all were there in her face.

  “Can I see him?” Yuuki asked. Sayuri nodded.

  “Of course. But … Yuuki-san, I have to warn you. It’s quite a shock.”

  Not really knowing what she meant, Yuuki walked hesitantly in and saw Anzai lying in the bed. His head was wrapped in white gauze and his arm was attached to a drip. Yuuki couldn’t help himself.

  “Anzai!”

  He called out to his friend because his eyes were open. But Anzai didn’t react.

  It was just as Rintaro had said on the phone. Anzai was asleep with his eyes open.

  Hold on … Was he really asleep? Those wide, twinkling eyes were the same as always. In fact, he even looked as though he were laughing at Yuuki, as if it were all one big practical joke. Any minute now he’d turn those eyes his way and say, Hey there, Yuu!

  But his eyes didn’t move. They seemed to be looking at something, but in reality they saw nothing. Yuuki took his friend’s hand. It was warm. He squeezed it tightly, but Anzai didn’t return the squeeze. Normally that big hand would be wrapped around Yuuki’s shoulders and he’d be shaking him heartily.

  The horror of it finally kicked in.

  “Anzai…? You…”

  Sayuri opened up a folding chair and offered it to him.

  “Mrs. Anzai. What hap—”

  Yuuki stopped abruptly, not sure where to begin.

  “It was a subarachnoid hemorrhage. They operated, but … They say he might have PVS.”

  Sayuri buried her face in her hands.

  PVS? Yuuki’s brain couldn’t process what this meant right away.

  “What…?”

  Sayuri shook her head.

  “He blinks. But if you speak to him, he doesn’t respond.”

  Yuuki couldn’t find the right words. Sayuri fought off her tears and bravely set about making tea.

  “Please don’t worry about me. I have to get back soon.”

  “Do you really have to leave? Please stay and keep him company. He’s lonely with no one to talk to him.”

  She forced a laugh.

  It was more likely that Sayuri wanted someone to talk to. He’d seen it in her face—sitting by the bedside of her mu
te husband, she was wracked with despair.

  Sayuri handed Yuuki a cup of tea, then sat down beside him. Her gaze turned to Anzai. Yuuki followed suit. His trademark goatee looked rather pitiful viewed from this angle.

  “He was supposed to be going climbing with you, wasn’t he?”

  “He never set out?”

  “Pardon?”

  “I called your house that evening. We were supposed to take a train to the mountains, but I couldn’t make it because of the plane crash. It looks like Anzai never got on that train, either.”

  “I suppose not. He collapsed in the street in Maebashi and an ambulance brought him here.”

  “Whereabouts in Maebashi?”

  “Jotomachi or somewhere.”

  The entertainment district. He must have been out drinking. That was the most popular area for the Circulation Department to take their newsdealer clients. He’d probably been called to some last-minute dinner or something and he’d ended up missing the train, too.

  “Was he drunk when he collapsed?”

  “The doctor said there was no alcohol in his system.”

  “He hadn’t been drinking at all?”

  Yuuki found it very difficult to believe. No one loved drinking more than Anzai did. Whether it was a business dinner or just for pleasure, there was no way he’d be walking around Jotomachi sober. Or perhaps it had still been early, and he was on his way to one of his usual bars when it happened.

  “About what time was it?”

  “A little after two in the morning.”

  Yuuki’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Was he alone?”

  “It looks like it. A passerby found him lying at the side of the road and called an ambulance.”

  Yuuki stared at Anzai’s face.

  A mystery. In the entertainment district at two in the morning, but not drinking. What could he possibly have been doing there all by himself?

  “What does the doctor say?”

  Sayuri’s face clouded over.

  “Worst-case scenario, he’ll be like this forever.”

  Sayuri opened her handbag and took out a pocket diary. There was a piece of paper folded inside it, which she opened up. “PVS—Persistent Vegetative State” was written on it in masculine handwriting.

  “They’re going to try all kinds of treatment, but if he stays this way for more than three months that’ll be the official diagnosis. I had the doctor write it down so I could learn the name. Not that I want to learn it…”

  Normally very quiet and withdrawn, today Sayuri was unusually talkative. She was obviously suffering severe emotional shock. He thought about his next words carefully before speaking.

  “There have been lots of cases of people regaining consciousness—a great many.”

  Sayuri’s eyes flickered.

  “Yes. I hope he’s going to be one of them.”

  “Anzai’s no ordinary man. I’m sure he’s going to pull through this.”

  “Thank you.”

  He felt deeply sorry for her. There were financial considerations, too. How was General Affairs dealing with the situation?

  “Has anyone from the company been to visit?”

  “Yesterday his boss stopped by.”

  Yasuo Ito, head of Circulation. The muscles in Yuuki’s neck stiffened.

  “Did he say anything?”

  “He said they would do everything they could. And that he should take his time and rest.”

  Take his time and rest? That was ironic. The company had a limit of six months’ long-term sick leave. If Anzai were to end up in a persistent vegetative state, he would lose his job. His medical expenses would pile up. Yuuki suddenly felt very depressed.

  “You’d better put in all the claims you can to the company. I’ll back you up.”

  “Thank you. But Anzai’s boss promised he’d do everything he could for us. I’m not sure about submitting claims…”

  “It would be better to. The company won’t do anything without them. And—”

  Sayuri cut him off.

  “I think it’s terrible how hard they made him work!”

  “I’m sorry…?” Yuuki looked at her in surprise.

  She hastily changed her tone to one more cheerful. “He was really looking forward to it.”

  “Er … to what?”

  “Going climbing with you.”

  “Was he really?”

  “After they operated on him, for just a brief moment he was conscious.”

  “He was?” Yuuki’s eyes widened.

  “Yes. And he spoke. He said, ‘Tell him to go on ahead.’”

  “Oh.”

  “That was a message for you, I think. My husband hadn’t heard that you weren’t able to go after all.”

  So Anzai had still intended to go. He’d missed the train but had planned to take the first one in the morning and catch up with Yuuki at the Tanigawa Climbing Information Center.

  “Tell him to go on ahead.”

  Yuuki looked down at the bed. Anzai could well be scaling the Tsuitate rock face right at this moment, in his dreams. He wanted to curse him for being such a fanatic about it. His family—why hadn’t he had a message for Sayuri and Rintaro? If he never woke up again, those would end up being his dying words.

  “He told me the Tsuitate face is really terrifying.”

  “Terrifying?”

  Yuuki was more than a little surprised. Anzai had actually called Tsuitate terrifying?

  “Is that what he said?”

  “Yes, he was afraid of it. My husband wasn’t as tough as he looked. I don’t know why he was going if he was that scared.”

  There was a faint sting in her words. So, she did feel it. Disappointment that he had spoken of his mountain-climbing plans instead of leaving his family with some final words to hold on to.

  Yuuki’s pager rang, as if to remind him to hurry up and get back. It was after 3:00 p.m. He slowly got to his feet. Sayuri shot him a wistful look. If she no longer had anyone to talk to, there’d be nothing but harsh reality left for her.

  “Would you mind—” They had both started to speak at the same time.

  “Go ahead,” Yuuki offered, and Sayuri responded with a faint smile.

  “Would you mind saying hello to Rintaro?”

  Yuuki had been going to ask about him. He wanted to check on Rintaro before going back to the newspaper.

  “Where is he now?”

  “He went to the shop. He should be back any minute.”

  “Okay, then I’ll just make a quick phone call from the lobby first.”

  “I hope I can count on you to keep in touch with Rintaro.” She sounded as if she really meant it. “He’s not a very talkative boy, but he really likes you, Yuuki-san. He was never all that close to his dad, though.”

  Yuuki was astonished. He’d visited the Anzai household several times and seen Anzai and Rintaro joking around together. He’d even been secretly envious. He was still pondering this new information as he went out into the corridor.

  He took the elevator down to the ground floor and was heading over to the row of public phones when the glass entrance doors slid open and Rintaro walked in. He was thirteen, the same age as Jun, but about two sizes smaller. The plastic shopping bags hanging from each hand looked too bulky and heavy for his frame.

  “Hi there!”

  Rintaro responded by hurrying over to Yuuki. Right away Yuuki was looking into a pair of large round eyes, identical to the boy’s father’s.

  “You’re having a tough time,” said Yuuki.

  “Not really,” replied the boy, turning red with embarrassment.

  “I’ve just been to visit your father.”

  “I see.”

  “He’ll wake up, I’m sure of it. Try not to worry too much.”

  Rintaro looked down at the floor. Yuuki put his hand on the boy’s head and ruffled his hair with deliberate force.

  “Be strong! You’re a man. You have to look after your mother!”

  Promis
ing to visit again soon, Yuuki turned to leave. Right behind him he heard something heavy drop to the floor and, just as he turned back to look, two frail little arms were around his waist and Rintaro was hugging him as tightly as he could. Yuuki was taken completely by surprise, but he braced his legs so as not to lose his balance. The two plastic bags lay flat on the floor. A bowl of dried instant ramen had come rolling out. It was probably what Rintaro planned to eat at home by himself that night.

  Yuuki’s heart ached for the lonely boy.

  He put his arms around Rintaro gently and pulled him closer.

  12

  It was almost daybreak and an enticing fragrance hung in the air. Yuuki crawled out of his tent to see the sturdy figure of Rintaro crouched down in the dry riverbed, grilling mochi rice cakes on a portable gas stove. He’d laid two paper plates on top of a large flat stone, and on these he’d put soy sauce mixed with sugar for dipping and some dried nori seaweed. Breakfast was apparently going to be grilled mochi wrapped in nori.

  “Morning!”

  Rintaro turned, looking a little surprised.

  “Did I wake you?”

  “I had to wake up just to stop you from eating everything,” Yuuki replied with a laugh.

  He looked up to see the morning sun just begin to hit the Ichinokurasawa ridgeline. A few stars were still visible in the sky. It was a magical sight.

  “Wow! Beautiful!”

  Rintaro also looked up.

  “Yes, this is my favorite time of day, too.”

  Yuuki turned his head to the right and looked at the Tsuitate face. Its peak silhouetted in the morning mist, it stood there looking eerily like a stone pyramid.

  “I really am afraid, you know.”

  “After you’ve eaten, it won’t seem so bad.”

  Smiling amiably, Rintaro handed him a plate of wrapped mochi.

  “Your father used to say he was afraid of it, too.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Your mother told me.”

  “So Dad must have climbed it as a way to overcome his fear.”

  “No. He climbed up to step down.”

  “To step down?”

  “It’s a tricky one, isn’t it? Your dad was always good at riddles.”