“You were, huh? Thanks!”
“No big. Anyway, they took Mr. Yu back to his house already. His mom and dad’re crying like crazy. His old students are going over there too. You know where his place is?”
Of course I knew. Before I started high school, I would go over there to get textbooks and reference books and plain old books. Like a stray dog hopefully visiting the house of someone who fed it. All the time back then. His house was the usual type of shack, with a roof and walls that just barely kept the wind and rain out.
I gripped the handlebars tightly. Engine humming, I started out again. The wind blew at my skirt.
“Whoa, Nako!” the boy cried out. “Your skirt! People’ll see your legs!” He reached out a hand to try to pull it back down. Even though they were just boys’ legs.
I said nothing and accelerated. My driving became dangerous.
“Nako, don’t cry!” I heard from behind me. “I mean, crying’s not gonna bring Mr. Yu back. He’s gone, you know. Somewhere far away. To a peaceful sky.”
The evening sun chased us from behind. The red light of a sun setting like a sob.
“Kyo! You’re late. We were worr—Kyo?”
Yoji and Mustah came out to meet me when I arrived home around the time the sun had set completely. My eyes were swollen from crying. They had been standing on the patio outside, waiting for me fretfully even though it was well past the time they should have left for work. When I looked up, instead of being properly groomed as usual, their hair and clothes and cuffs were all slightly off.
“Kyo?”
I told them that Mr. Yu was dead, and Yoji gasped. Mustah hugged me silently. I was much taller than they were now. I pressed my face against Mustah’s smooth black hair and breathed deeply of the scent of bamboo I loved so much. We stayed like that for a while, and then I pulled away. I reached out and gently fixed Mustah’s messy hair with my fingers.
“You’re huge, you know,” he said, almost blushing.
“I’m alive.” These words came out of my mouth instead of the usual laugh. It was too much, and I started weeping again. Yoji came around from behind to stroke my shuddering back.
And then the two of them quietly flew off to the north, where the hospital was. I set myself down on the bench on the patio and saw them off, waving. The surging ocean broke against the shore, then retreated.
The figure of Mr. Yu hopping in through the window, his serious face in profile when he looked into scholarships for me. Whenever I showed my face at his shack, he would lend me books to study, tell me about how there were all kinds of jobs in this world. I remembered how he was large and yet somehow ephemeral, like a shadow puppet. And then the face in death I’d just seen. He would never again think or worry about his students, search for hope together with them. He had gone somewhere far away, by himself. To a peaceful sky.
I curled up on the bench. For the first time in a long time, that day I thought I’d forgotten came charging in from the distant past. My sister. A good person with no sins to be punished for. But she had died cruelly, her hopes and future and dignity all ripped up from the roots. Did it even matter that that had happened? Was that really okay? Did the god of our town occasionally look away?
People died young, especially in this town. Without any particular reason. No matter how amazing the person. Even if they worked hard. Mr. Yu hadn’t been given any special treatment as a soul worthy of life. And once you died, you never got to see anyone again. Even the people closest to you—you didn’t get to be with them again for even a split second.
I threw my bag as hard as I could. It opened up, and my textbooks and notebooks spilled out. But I couldn’t muster the energy to pick them up.
I stood stock-still, shaking, and howled for Mr. Yu and for my sister.
Daybreak. The time of day when the echoes of the waves crashing in and receding was at its zenith. Winter was approaching and the days were shorter, so it was still dark outside. Mustah and Yoji came flying home through the night sky.
The sofa, the table, everything in the house was flipped upside down. The place was such a disaster that it was almost surprising it hadn’t somehow spontaneously caught fire too. I stood vacantly in the middle of it all.
Still standing where he’d touched down by the window, Mustah was frozen in place like a Bamboo statue. Yoji slowly came inside in his stead.
“Please.” I was trembling all over. It was the first time I’d even spoken to my beloved Bamboo like this. “I’ll never ask for anything else. Make me a Bamboo.”
“Why on earth would you ask for that, Kyo?” Yoji’s voice was very soft. I’d never heard it that soft before. It was at the lower limit of what a person could produce with a voice. My heart throbbed in my chest.
“Because people die.” My voice was shaking too.
“Don’t you think that’s exactly why the fact that you’re alive has such serious value, Kyo?”
I shook my head stubbornly from side to side.
Mustah winced, as if in shock. It was like the air itself had shuddered.
“I mean, people just die. No matter how hard you try, how hard you fight, it doesn’t mean anything. We can’t escape death. Even the most wonderful life ends eventually. And so cruelly on top of that.”
“But, you see, Kyo—”
“I mean, me! If I go to school today, I might not make it home again! I could be killed by someone, I could be in an accident!”
“Kyo!”
“If I die, I won’t get to see you ever again, Mustah!” I shouted out my true feelings, and then I was running without even realizing it. I wrapped my arms around Mustah, who was slumped lifelessly against the window frame, and hugged him as hard as I could.
He jumped like he’d been burned. Nervous that this fierce love was perhaps a burden, I tried to pull away. And then he reached his arms out, grabbed my shoulders, and pulled me in closer.
My heart was full of pain and joy. Mustah, so tiny now. My nose hit the top of his head. It broke my heart, filled my heart. My Bamboo. My papa. My friend. My lover. My Bamboo. Mustah.
His mouth was at my neck, his shuddering breath warm on my skin. He was silent for a long time.
When I peered softly at his face, he was staring not at me, but at Yoji with a pleading look. Hurt at the idea that this was troubling for him, I hurriedly pulled away and leaned against the wall, averting my eyes.
Yoji stepped over the many things scattered on the floor and walked with a deliberate step toward me. “You have a flame.” His voice still quiet. “Why can’t you see the value of that?”
“But it’s a fire that goes out so fast! If a strong wind blows… If the candle burns down… So soon…”
“And that’s why we love you. We will always love you this deeply.”
Don’t say that again. I mean, love. Tears poured from my eyes.
“Please don’t forget, Kyo, hon.”
“Forget what?!”
“We won’t steal your fire. We want to protect it.”
I suddenly loved him too much, which put me in a truly perverse mood. My words were harsh, directed more toward Mustah that Yoji. “So is it, like, maybe—if you turned a person into a Bamboo, something’ll happen to you if they find out? Like they’ll punish you by burying you in a barrel or cutting off one of your arms or something? Because the Bamboo rules are strict, right? And you don’t want that, right?”
Yoji snorted with laughter at my sulking words. I was startled at the cold look on his face. Afraid that maybe I had really made him mad.
“No, that’s not it, Kyo,” he said, his voice hushed and even. “In fact, just the opposite. The gravest sin for a Bamboo is not to kill a human being, nor is it to tell them the location of our meetings.”
“So what is it then?”
“It’s to live with a human being.”
I
gasped. Unconsciously, I looked back at Mustah. He averted his eyes awkwardly, and with that, I knew it was true.
I remembered the words of the Bamboo man who had come along a very long time ago, when I shook and shivered all alone in a mansion in the town above: I’d get more than the barrel underground for sixty years for this. I mean, punishment by fire’s no joke, y’know? It’s pretty much the most painful way for us to disappear from this world. So it’s a no-go. Sorry, ’kay?
The gravest sin? Punishment by fire?
“Bamboo can never tell humans who they really are, and we can absolutely never live with them. I mean, in terms of the bigger picture, it’s a danger for the entire tribe. But Mustah and I have kept the flame that you are a secret for almost seven years now. Because this joy is greater than anything else we’ve known. Rescuing you, helping you grow up, and finally sending you out into the world. Our bodies are cold, and yet our hearts are filled with warmth.”
“Send me out?” Yoji suddenly felt very far away. Almost like a stranger. His voice was cool, his face too devoid of expression. I panicked. “Yoji, what are you talking about? We’re going to live together forever, right? The three of us, always, you know? But I’m the only one who’s human, so I’ll get old. I’m already this tall and all. I’ll grow up, I’ll get old, and someday, I’ll die. You’ll be sad. If that kind of goodbye’s coming, then don’t you think it’d be better to just go ahead and make me a Bamboo too, like just do it?”
“No, I don’t think so,” came the cold voice of refusal.
I looked at Mustah imploringly. But he continued to avert his eyes. His profile was in shadow, and I couldn’t read the expression on his face.
“You—that’s a lie…”
“No. Right at the start, we made it very clear with each other. We’d raise you properly until you were eighteen.”
“Eighteen? Th-that’s soon! So then once I’m eighteen…you won’t protect me anymore? We can’t live together? The two of you won’t be with me forever, after all…”
“Please understand.” Yoji looked pained. “We care about you more than anything else in this world. We want you to grow up and leave this nest. And you’ve been living up to our every expectation. You decided yourself to go on to high school. You’re fighting every day. All the work you’ve done, everything you’ve gotten in return—it’s filled our hearts with pride. You can’t live in this impoverished town with grass monsters forever. It doesn’t suit the wonderful person you’ve become… That’s how it will be in the near future. So, Kyo, hon.”
Vrrm! I felt like I heard the humming of the scooter’s motor. The winding road I climbed every morning to the town above. I loved these people so much that it sparked a desire, an ambition in me to try to fight, to crawl away from my horrible fate. How could I leave them? It was too awful.
It felt like my heart was being yanked out by an invisible hook. My only thought was of Yoji and Mustah trying to get rid of me. And then they would go back to their carefree life, just the two of them. Close, quiet, for however many decades. Without ever growing older. Without changing either. Sleeping naked, facing each other inside the chilled chest. And then they would gradually forget me. On the other side of deep time.
I couldn’t stand it. “Make me a Bamboo too!” I screamed. “If you do it now, there’s still time! Please!”
“We can’t!”
“But I want to be with you forever. I love you so much it hurts. Both of you…Mustah…”
“We do too. We really understand, Kyo.”
“So then—”
“But we can’t.” Yoji came over to me and set a hand on my shoulder. His face came into view below. Afraid, I turned my eyes away. The gentle echo had returned to his voice. “Our dream is for you to grow up and live. And it doesn’t matter a bit if you get busy and naturally forget all this about having lived with some weird grass monsters. Because that is in itself growing up, living and changing.”
“Kyo.” Mustah’s voice came to me from far away. “You understand, yeah?”
“I don’t!”
“It’s like, I mean, everyone, y’know? They all have a monster or two they were friends with when they were kids. If they’re human, that is. But they all forget, they grow up. There might be some faithful ones, sometimes, who remember again once they get old. But for the most part, people get busy, they burn brightly, they live their lives, forever forgetting. That’s…”
Fire? Is that living? Mustah. Yoji. Liars! As if I’d believe something like that!
I thought about coming home to this house one day when I’d turned eighteen and finding no one there, like no one had ever been there, like it had been just a long dream. I didn’t think it was a loneliness I could endure. I didn’t want that, I totally didn’t want that. Mustah, don’t go away. I shook my head, and Yoji slowly held out his hand. His figure standing there before me threatened to disappear even in that moment, and I howled sadly like I’d been bitten, sinking to the floor on the spot.
The night of the full moon. Winter had come. The air around me was frozen, breaking and snapping each time I took a step. The breath I exhaled was white. The moon was stupidly bright. I narrowed my eyes and kept walking endlessly.
…How many weeks had passed? Since that night, Yoji had returned to his usual self. I, however, had become very quiet, and Mustah had been in a bad mood the whole time.
Ordered to return the disaster of a room to its original state, I cleaned it up myself. One of Mustah’s precious cameras was broken, but he didn’t get mad at me in words. In fact, it was so awkward that neither of us could look the other in the eye. He acted like he was poking bruised skin whenever we talked, and I choked at coming face-to-face with the Bamboo in the house.
I hadn’t actually been going to school since then either. It was like the thread of tension that had kept me working like a dog ever since I came to the lower town had been cut with a neat snip. When I thought about getting on my scooter in the morning, my body stopped moving. I simply couldn’t muster the energy to prepare for classes or review or study for exams. The Bamboo couldn’t see me during the day, so they hadn’t noticed yet. I used that to my advantage and spent my days wandering around.
And tonight in particular, the full moon meant that the Bamboo were at their meeting, so I didn’t need to worry about them finding me, no matter how much I noodled around outside. Which was why I was simply walking to nowhere in particular down the frozen coastal road.
I felt like I had seen something move in the shadows. I had walked listlessly to the area where the shacks were most heavily concentrated. People were moving around in rooms here and there, but it wasn’t safe outside, so there was basically no one out walking. The shacks were illuminated by the blinding light of the moon.
The movement was followed by a sound from a corner of the ruined remains of one of the shacks. I went over and peered inside to see a mountain of stiff fabric squirming. A person wearing rags. No, two of them. The one on the bottom was a man in work clothes, while the one on top was a person with horribly tangled long hair. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. The arms of the man below were reaching out in my direction, twitching. And then, exhausted of strength, they fell heavily to the ground. Apparently, the person on top was biting his neck. And then that person noticed me and turned around.
It was a woman. Young. She looked about the same age as me. Maybe a girl still in her teens. Her round eyes were dangerous, glittering. Blood was smeared around her mouth.
The face of the man on the ground was in shadow, so I couldn’t see it. But blood was oozing from his neck. When I realized, Ah! This is a Bamboo’s meal, the girl slowly turned up the corners of her bloody mouth. She was smiling.
“Yer pretty good at making yourself invisible.”
And my chest throbbed like it was shrinking. So bittersweet, those words. Like I was hearing them from the distan
t past. I smiled like I was about to suddenly cry. “Yeah…I’ve always been like that.”
“What?” The girl blinked. That mischievous expression was also like him.
I suddenly felt close to her. “So you’re Bamboo then.”
“You know about us?”
“Walkers of the nights! Drinkers of human blood! You eat living flesh!”
“That’s about it.” The girl smiled again. “You sure know a lot, huh?”
I looked her over carefully. Her pale face was filthy with dust and dirt. Her neck and arms were also jet-black, and she was wearing layers of rags that looked like they’d been thrown away. Even in the town down here, known for its poverty, it was rare to see someone this destitute. Especially a young woman.
And then the bloody mouth. The palms of her hands were red too.
A stray Bamboo then. All alone, she couldn’t groom herself because she didn’t show up in mirrors, so she’d gotten quite filthy. And the fact that she was in a place like this on a night of the full moon meant she was one of those anarchists who didn’t attend the meetings.
She met my eyes and smiled mischievously.
Aah, I thought again. I know the look in those eyes. This particular look, like she was troubled, like she was laughing. Maybe it was a Bamboo thing.
I guess I didn’t look the slightest bit afraid, so the girl approached me quietly. I really wasn’t scared, though. I’d started to feel like I didn’t care if I died right then and there, like nothing mattered anymore.
“What’s your name?”
“Nako.”
“Me, so, like, I’m Marika.”
“Are we maybe around the same age?”
“I became a Bamboo when I was fifteen, and, um…so maybe sixty years ago? Huh? Maybe more? I dunno anymore!”
I slowly reached out a hand to wipe away the dirt from her face. She yanked her jaw away in surprise.
A Small Charred Face Page 6