He reasoned that since he had found his love, the gods who had taken her must also be nearby. He left Soryu’s side reluctantly and followed a passage that led away from her bed. Soon enough, a god found him.
“What are you doing here?” A voice boomed through the corridor, shook the very walls and stopped Kazuo where he stood. He looked around but could see no one.
“I said, what are you doing here?”
Kazuo trembled. “I have come for Soryu. I will fight any who would try to keep her from me!” The fires rose in him again. He would not let this voice stand in his way.
“You dare to challenge the sea?” The voice boomed even more loudly around Kazuo.
“If the sea would keep her from me, then it is the sea I challenge.” Kazuo was firm. He had not come so far to turn back at the first sign of difficulty.
“Boy, who are you?”
Kazuo straightened his shoulders. “I am Kazuo, of the Special Attack Force, and I have hit my target.”
Laughter sounded in Kazuo’s ears, filled the corridor, caused the water to roil and push Kazuo to and fro, but he stood his ground. A great rumbling began in the depths of the coral palace and suddenly, a large dragon took shape before Kazuo’s eyes.
“You have missed your target, Kazuo of the Special Attack Force. I am standing right here.” Ryujin shook his head and the scales along his body rippled in the waters.
“Then let us fight. I will not leave here without Soryu.” Kazuo, who had flown a plane into the sea, still did not understand what it was to be afraid.
Ryujin laughed again. “Why will you risk your spirit for her? Wouldn’t you be happier at Yasakuni with the rest of your kind? You do not belong here, beneath the waves.”
“I belong with Soryu. That is all I know.”
“We shall see,” said the dragon. “Your spirit interests me. You chose to disobey your orders for a chance to be with your love. Let us see if Soryu would do the same for you. We will let her make her choice, just as you made yours. If she chooses to be with you, I will return you both to the world above, where you may live out your lives as you see fit. If she does not, you forfeit your spirit to me.” Ryujin slowly made his way past a confused Kazuo. This was not the heroic victory Kazuo had imagined, but all he could do was follow Ryujin back to Soryu’s side.
He watched carefully as the dragon bent its head over the form of Soryu, still lying as though she were asleep on her bed of moss. Ryujin breathed gently on her face, Kazuo saw her stir as though she were slowly coming to consciousness, and then her eyes opened. They were the same deep green that he remembered. Kazuo was certain that she would choose to leave this place with him when asked.
“Soryu, you have a guest.” The dragon backed away from the bed, where Soryu was easing herself upright.
Her gaze fell upon Kazuo’s eager face. She raised a hand towards him, and then slowly pulled it back to her side. “I remember you,” she said. “You are the man who loved me, and to whom I gave my love. I am sorry that I could not return to you.”
Kazuo shook his head as the dragon looked on. “It doesn’t matter now! I have come for you, Soryu. We can be together at last.” Kazuo’s eyes wandered over her face. They landed on the flower on her forehead and he recalled the golden chrysanthemum that had graced her bow.
“You said you would love me forever, but I did not expect you to find me here.”
“What happened?” Kazuo asked. “They told us that you were sunk by the enemy. I could not understand why the gods would take you from me, and so I waited for the opportunity to strike at them and here I am.”
The dragon noted that Kazuo looked pleased with himself. He smiled, but Kazuo did not notice. He only had eyes for Soryu.
“This young man came to fight me for you. He would challenge the very gods of the sea to be with you again. What do you think of that?”
Soryu frowned. “I have seen enough of fighting,” she said.
“I thought as much.” Ryujin stroked her hair gently, as though she were a child. “I offered a challenge of a different sort. The boy has done all manner of extraordinary things to be with you, Soryu, but I suggested that the choice be left to you. Would you leave this place and return with him to the world above?”
“Come on,” Kazuo said. “We’ll have a little house by the sea and live happily until the end of our days. I love you, Soryu.”
Soryu did not immediately answer as Kazuo thought she would. Instead, she sat calmly on her bed and gazed at him as though she hardly knew his face. “Do you know why I was created?” she finally asked him.
Kazuo thought it was a curious question. “You were designed to be the best carrier we had, you were the glory of our empire, you are the Green Dragon that could outrun the waves.”
Her lips curved up in a tiny smile. “You make it sound so simple, but you have not answered my question. I asked you, for what purpose was I created?” Her eyes never left his face as she spoke and inside himself, Kazuo began to feel the first stirrings of uncertainty.
“You were created to destroy the enemy.” Kazuo scratched his head. He didn’t understand why she was asking him these questions, but his love for her drew the answers out of his mouth.
“And did I fulfill my duty as my creators expected of me? Did I destroy the enemy?”
“You were responsible for many great victories, yes.” Kazuo was growing more confused by the minute.
“And you, what became of you after I fell?”
Kazuo smiled proudly. “I volunteered for the Special Attack Force.”
“Why was this force created?” Soryu’s eyes burned into his.
“To destroy the enemy, of course.” Kazuo felt the cold of the ocean seeping into his skin. “Have you made your decision, my love?” he asked in return.
“Yes, I think I have, but before I announce it, I would like to ask you one more thing.”
“Please,” said Kazuo. “Anything at all.”
“Did you fulfill your duty to the men who asked this of you? Who trained you? Did you destroy the enemy?” Soryu’s eyes gleamed in the soft light of the coral as strands of her hair caressed her cheek.
Kazuo felt a twist in his stomach, as though something that had lived there for many years was only now beginning to make itself known. He became angry at the woman in front of him.
“What does it matter?” he almost shouted. “All that I have done was for the love of you.”
“Kazuo, dear Kazuo.” Soryu smiled and again he saw a hint of sorrow in her eyes; this time he recognized it. “Love and duty are two different things. We are fortunate when they come together, but when they do not, we must sacrifice one for the other. Who would I be had I not fulfilled my obligations? I would not then be worthy of your love.”
“What are you saying?” Kazuo felt the thing in his stomach rise up to overwhelm him. He was afraid for the first time in his life—not of any enemy, but of the choice Soryu was about to make.
“I will not go with you when you leave here, Kazuo. I love you, but my duty is not yet done.”
“What? Your duty? You were sunk! You have no duty now.” Kazuo saw the mouth of Ryujin open wide.
“Oh, but I do. I may have been sunk, but I can still serve my purpose.”
“The choice has been made,” Ryujin’s voice again sounded in the coral palace, blotting out all thought. Soryu smiled one last time at Kazuo, and then stretched out on her bed of moss and closed her eyes. Ryujin turned towards the trembling Kazuo.
“Now, boy, you belong to me.” The dragon raised its head and began to draw the water into its mouth, catching Kazuo in the current. Finally, Kazuo knew fear. It was not what he had expected. It was not the visceral fear of those confronting an enemy, it was the certain fear of those who suddenly realize that their greatest sacrifice was meaningless after all. Kazuo fell into darkness as Ryujin swallowed him whole.
A short time later, his eyes opened. He was in the Zero, arcing towards an enemy ship that drifted calmly o
n the sea, as though waiting for him. The bloom that was Soryu faded and fell on the floor of Kazuo’s heart as another flower opened. He closed his eyes and let his Zero fall like a blossom onto the deck below, where it exploded in a profusion of petals that scattered over the waves.
Beneath the water, Soryu caught one in her hand.
The Rental Sister
Robert Joseph Levy
I’m kind of known for telling this story, and don’t worry, it’s a quick one. Okay? This was the summer before I discovered acting and moved to the States, when I was still Shinju instead of Shannon. I was living in the Aoyama district, waitressing on and off and pretty much lost in life, working at an Italian restaurant at the time. There’s little to no tipping in Japan—only from tourists, really—and I was complaining one day to my coworker Yoshiko about how I was having trouble paying my bills. That was the moment she suggested I make some money on the side as a rental sister.
I had to ask what this was and the answer was surprising and has to do with the hikikomori. That basically means withdrawal, and it’s part of a big problem in Japan, what you would call a social epidemic. The hikikomori, almost all young men, close themselves off in their rooms for years and years, only coming out in the middle of the night to grab food before going back inside. It’s like the way anorexia is here, you know, very popular? Anyway, once the family runs out of options, there are a few very expensive treatment companies that you can contract, and they send over a girl known as a rental sister, who goes to your house to try to slowly draw the boy out into the world. Yoshiko worked for Fresh Start, which was one of these companies. She said it was easy work and that she would be happy to refer me.
“Oh, and if they give you Koji Tanabashi in Meguro as your first,” she said as she wrote down the address of the company, “don’t tear your hair out over it.” I didn’t ask what she meant.
Once I applied and was accepted at Fresh Start, I immediately started my training as a rental sister. It’s not like being a therapist or even an outreach worker, they told me, more like just a friend to talk to. Training was basically an afternoon of practice with my supervisor Mr. Suzuki and then a manual to read that evening. As Yoshiko predicted, my first assignment was in fact a twenty-year-old man named Koji Tanabashi, my age, who lived in the Meguro district. That’s in the suburbs so I took the bus out there, reading his one-page bio along the way, and also the manual, which basically was not helpful, just things not to do like do not be too flirtatious, do not be impatient, do not be aggressive, things like that.
I went to the address and found myself at the doors of a large home, two floors and very modern, or it probably was when it was built, maybe fifty years ago? Lots of concrete and very little glass, almost like an office building or a bomb shelter but instead it was a house. I rang the doorbell and Mrs. Tanabashi, who turned out to be a very impolite woman, bowed quickly and then made her way through the expansive genkan and into the main hallway that led to the staircase. I followed after her. “You are the thirty-seventh rental girl we have hired,” she said in almost a whisper as we went up the steps. “Maybe you will be the one.” I decided that this was her way of telling me she had already spent a great deal of money.
We passed beneath a large skylight, and I remember looking up for a moment at the darkening sky. We went down the hall to the last door, which was on the right. I turned to Mrs. Tanabashi but she had already pulled away, heading back down the stairs. I wanted to leave as well. So, okay, I thought, you can do this, it’s just like meeting a very quiet new friend, and I’ve had those before, so why not, you know? I kneeled down on the hard wood in front of the locked door and sat in silence for a few minutes before making sure Mrs. Tanabashi wasn’t watching me; then I reached into my rucksack for the manual and read from its suggestions for introductory phrases.
“Hello, Koji!” I was trying to sound fun. “My name is Shinju, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
“I was hoping I could talk to you, and I heard you were a good listener, is that true?”
More nothing.
I began to tell him about my day, about my friends, the restaurant, how I decided to join Fresh Start, except I said I joined because I liked talking with people instead of the real reason, which was because I needed the money. I tried anything I could think of that would be helpful and not aggressive, that might appeal to a hikikomori, even slipping a friendly note under the door if he preferred to communicate that way. I told him about the movie I had seen the previous week, the one I hoped to see the next, the book I was reading and how interesting it was, even reading from it for a while. Every moment as a rental sister is a race against time, for the longer a hikikomori is shut in the less likely he is to emerge.
By my watch I could see only a half hour had passed and I was already running out of things to say. I pulled his bio out of my rucksack and looked it over again, and there was nothing so very special about him I could grab onto, really just that he liked videogames and only videogames. I hate videogames because I find them addicting, you know? I would rather use that time to read a book. Anyway, I knew I had a great deal more work to do, so I kept going. Endless time. I can still picture that hallway as if I were standing in it now: the shell-lacquered credenza, the woven screen hanging beside the traditional watercolor of fisherman returning to shore, everything in its place, just so.
Once the three hours were done and there was still no reply from the other side of the door, I said goodnight and left the house. As I started heading down the path to the main street, I turned to stare back at the house, and I happened to see the heavy curtains in the windows of one of the upper rooms move for a moment before falling still. It was Koji’s room, I realized, and gave a little wave and kept walking, sure that I was being watched as I went. I would have felt like a complete failure if it wasn’t for seeing those curtains move. They kept me at it.
I spent the next month making three weekly visits, and I became more prepared, more determined, so that when Mrs. Tanabashi would say “Anything?” as I left each night I might eventually have something to tell her instead of simply apologizing. I really did not like this woman. Her presence was always so heavy, being in a constant state of disapproval as she was, you know? So when I became more eager to draw Koji out I had an idea and started playing videogames at home on the computer and then I would come back to his door and talk about what happened during the game. In my mind that was already better than how I was doing before, and I talked on and on, endless one-sided discussions of what I was playing, my scores, who I encountered along the way, things like that. I thought it would be my way in, but it wasn’t, and I began to worry about my paycheck.
One night, though, six weeks after I first started as Koji’s rental sister, something finally happened. I’d already abandoned my videogame idea, and, having nothing left to share of myself, I started making up stories to tell. I was so bored by then, sitting alone for hours on the small tatami mat I would bring with me; I was surprised that there was nothing comfortable already in place in front of Koji’s door, my being the thirty-seventh sister to put herself there for hours on end. So I began talking about how I was going to move to the United States and become a famous actress and that I would take him with me and we would live in Hollywood together, just nonsense at the time. Now that I say it, I was acting even in that moment.
So I talk on and on, and then I feel something push against my hand, which is against the bottom of the door. I look down and a Post-It note has been slipped out to me, and it says
YOU ARE PRETTY
I couldn’t help it. I laughed, since I was so grateful he had written anything at all, and that it wasn’t to tell me to go away. “Why, thank you, Koji,” I said. “You’re a very nice young man. And I bet you are a handsome one as well.”
After another minute he slips a second note under the door, and it says
NOT ANYMORE
“Come now, I find that hard to believe,” I went on. “You’
re so handsome in photographs and no one loses that much beauty just by being alone.” I hadn’t actually seen a picture of him. There wasn’t one in his bio, or anywhere in the house that I could find. And yes, I was ignoring the advice in the manual at this time, but I got through to him my own way, didn’t I? “I’ll tell you what. If you open the door a crack I’ll tell you if you are handsome or not, okay?”
Another minute passes, then another note, and it says
I CANNOT OPEN THE DOOR
“Koji,” I said, going for playfulness. “What’s wrong, don’t you like me anymore?”
Then, very quickly this time, another note appears, and it says
I AM COLD HERE
“Well, okay, I’ll go ask your mother for a blanket and I’ll leave it outside the door for you to take after I’m gone.”
I went downstairs and found Mrs. Tanabashi in the kitchen, preparing her dinner; her husband was an international businessman and he was away from home a great deal. “You won’t believe it!” I said, so excited to tell her of my progress. “Koji started slipping me notes.” I handed them to her and as she read them her eyes went wide with shock. Then she looked up at me, and her anger was impossible to mistake.
“Wait for me in the genkan,” she said, her back to me as she left the kitchen. I went to wait for her there, and it was almost an hour later—I had nothing to do but stare at the row of shoes beside the entrance—that the doorbell rang. Mrs. Tanabashi came to answer it, and it was Mr. Suzuki, my Fresh Start supervisor. He looked furious.
“Shinju,” he said, “you are a very irresponsible girl and I want you to apologize to Mrs. Tanabashi.”
“What have I done wrong?” I asked him, and he turned to Mrs. Tanabashi, who handed him the notes.
“What are these?” he said, holding them out to me.
Japanese Dreams Page 4