by Kōji Suzuki
From the South Hakone Pacific Land rest house, Asakawa called his wife in Ashikaga and told her he'd pick her up in a rental car Sunday morning, as promised. So, everything's all taken care op she asked. All Asakawa could say was, "Probably". From the fact that he was still here, alive, he could only guess that things were resolved. But as he hung up the phone, something still bothered him deeply. He couldn't quite get over it. Just from the mere fact that he was alive, he wanted to believe that everything was wrapped up neatly, but… Thinking that Ryuji might have the same doubts, Asakawa walked back to the table and asked, "This is really the end, right?"
Ryuji had wolfed down his lunch while Asakawa was on the phone.
"Your family doing alright?" Ryuji wasn't going to answer Asakawa's question right away.
"Yeah. Hey, Ryuji, are you feeling like it's not all over yet?"
"You worried?"
"Aren't you?"
"Maybe."
"About what? What bothers you?"
"What the old woman said. Next year you 're going to have a child. That prediction of hers."
The moment he realized Ryuji had exactly the same doubts, Asakawa turned to trying to dispel those doubts.
"Maybe the 'you', just that once, was referring to Shizuko instead of Sadako."
Ryuji rejected this straightaway. "Not possible.
The images on that video come from Sadako's own eyes and mind. The old woman was talking to her. 'You' can only refer to Sadako."
"Maybe her prediction was false."
"Sadako's ability to foresee the future should have been infallible, one hundred percent."
"But Sadako was physically incapable of bearing children."
"That's why it's so strange. Biologically, Sadako was a man, not a woman, so there was no way she could have a kid. Plus, she was a virgin until right before she died. And…"
"And?"
"Her first sexual experience was Nagao. The last smallpox victim in Japan. Quite a coincidence."
It was said that in the distant past God and the Devil, cells and viruses, male and female, even light and darkness had been identical, with no internal contradiction. Asakawa began to feel uneasy. Once the discussion moved into the realm of genetic structures, or the cosmos before the creation of the Earth, the answers were beyond the pale of individual questioning. All he could do at this point was to persuade himself to dispel the niggling uncertainties in his heart and tell himself that it was all over.
"But I'm alive. The riddle of the erased charm is solved. This case is closed."
Then Asakawa realized something. Hadn't the statue of En no Ozunu willed itself to be pulled up from the bottom of the ocean? That will had worked on Shizuko, guiding her actions, and as a result she was given her new power. Suddenly that pattern looked awfully familiar. Bringing Sadako's bones up from the bottom of the well, fishing En no Ozunu's statue up from the ocean floor… But what bothered him was the irony: the power Shizuko was given brought her only misery. But that was looking at things the wrong way. Maybe in Asakawa's case, simply being released from the curse was the equivalent of Shizuko's receiving power. Asakawa decided to make himself think so.
Ryuji glanced at Asakawa's face, reassuring himself that the man before him was, indeed, alive, then nodded twice. "I suppose you do have a point." Exhaling slowly, he sank back into his chair. "And yet…"
"What?"
Ryuji sat up straight and asked, as if to himself, "What did Sadako give birth to?"
2
Asakawa and Ryuji parted company at Atami Station. Asakawa intended to take Sadako's remains back to her relatives in Sashikiji and have them hold a memorial service for her. They probably wouldn't even know what to do with her, a distant relative they hadn't heard a peep out of in nearly thirty years. But, things being what they were, he couldn't just abandon her. If he hadn't known who she was, he could have had her buried as a Jane Doe. But he knew, and so all he could do was hand her over to the people in Sashikiji. The statute of limitations was long past, and it would be nothing but trouble to bring up a murder now, so he decided to say she'd probably been a suicide. He wanted to hand her off and then return immediately to Tokyo, but the boat didn't depart that often. Leaving now, he'd end up having to spend the night on Oshima. Since he'd have to leave the rental car in Atami, flying back to Tokyo would just make things more complicated.
"You can deliver her bones all by yourself. You don't need me for that." As he'd said this, getting out of the car in front of Atami Station, Ryuji seemed to be laughing at Asakawa. Sadako's bones were no longer in the plastic bag. They were wrapped neatly in a black cloth in the back seat of the car. To be sure, it was such a small bundle that even a child could have delivered it to the Yamamura house in Sashikiji. The point was to get them to accept her. If they refused, then Asakawa wouldn't have anywhere to take her. That would be troublesome. He had the feeling that the charm would only be completely fulfilled when someone close to her held services for her. But still: why should they believe him when he showed up on their doorstep with a bag of bones, saying this is your relative whom you haven't heard from in twenty-five years? What proof did he have? Asakawa was still a little worried.
"Well, happy trails. See you in Tokyo." Ryuji waved and went through the ticket gate. "If I didn't have so much work, I wouldn't mind tagging along, but you know how it is." Ryuji had a mountain of work, scholarly articles and the like, that needed immediate attention.
"Let me thank you again."
"Forget about it. It was fun for me, too."
Asakawa watched until Ryuji disappeared into the shadow of the stairs leading to the platform. Just before disappearing from view, Ryuji stumbled on the steps. Although he quickly regained his balance, for a brief moment as he swayed Ryuji's muscular form seemed to go double in Asakawa's vision. Asakawa realized he was tired, and rubbed his eyes. When he took his hands away, Ryuji had disappeared up the stairs. A curious sensation pierced his breast, and somewhere he detected the faint scent of citrus…
That afternoon, he delivered Sadako's remains to Takashi Yamamura without incident. He'd just returned from a fishing voyage, and as soon as he saw the black wrapped bundle he seemed to know what it was. Asakawa held it out in both hands and said, "These are Sadako's remains."
Takashi gazed at the bundle for a while, then narrowed his eyes tenderly. He shuffled over to Asakawa, bowed deeply, and accepted the bones, saying, "thank you for coming all this way". Asakawa was a bit taken aback. He hadn't thought the old man would accept it that easily. Takashi seemed to guess what he was thinking, and he said, in a voice full of conviction, "It's definitely Sadako."
Up until the age of three, and then from age nine to age eighteen, Sadako had lived here, at the Yamamura estate. Takashi was sixty-one now. What exactly did she mean to him? Guessing from his expression as he received her remains, Asakawa imagined that he must have loved her dearly. He didn't even ask for assurance that this was Sadako. Perhaps he didn't need to. Perhaps he knew intuitively that it was her inside the black cloth. The way his eyes had flashed when he'd first seen the bundle attested to that. There must be some sort of power at work here, too.
Having completed his errand, Asakawa wanted to get away from Sadako as quickly as possible. So he beat a hasty retreat, lying that "I'll miss my flight if I don't leave now." If the family changed their minds and suddenly decided they wouldn't accept the remains as Sadako's without proof, all would be lost. If they started asking him for details, he didn't know what he'd say. It would be a long time before he'd be able to tell anyone the whole story. He particularly didn't feel up to telling her relatives.
Asakawa stopped by Hayatsu's "bureau" to say thanks for all his help the other day, and then he headed for the Oshima Hot Springs Hotel. He wanted to soak away all his fatigue in a hot bath and then write up the whole sequence of events.
3
Just about the time Asakawa was settling into bed at the Oshima Hot Springs Hotel, Ryuji was dozing at his desk
in his apartment. His lips rested on a half-written essay, his spittle smudging the dark blue ink. He was so tired that his hand still clutched his beloved Montblanc fountain pen. He hadn't switched over to a word processor yet.
Suddenly his shoulders jerked and his face contorted unnaturally. Ryuji leapt up. His back went ramrod-straight, and his eyes opened far wider than they usually did when he woke up. His eyes were normally slightly slanted, and when they were wide open like this he looked different, somehow cuter than usual. His eyes were bloodshot. He'd been dreaming. Ryuji, normally not afraid of anything, was shaking through and through. He couldn't remember the dream. But the tautness of his body, and his trembling, bore witness to the terror of the dream. He couldn't breathe. He looked at the clock. 9:40. He couldn't immediately figure out the significance of the time. The lights were on-the overhead fluorescent bulb and the desk lamp in front of him- and there was plenty of light, but things still felt too dark. He felt an instinctual fear of the dark. His dream had been ruled by a darkness like no other.
Ryuji swiveled in his chair and looked at the video deck. The fateful tape was still in it. For some reason, he couldn't look away again. He kept staring at it. His breathing became rough. Misgiving showed on his face. Images raced through his mind, leaving no room for logical thought.
"Shit. You've come…"
He placed both hands on the edge of the desk and tried to figure out what was behind him. His apartment was in a quiet place just off a main street, and all sorts of indistinct sounds came in from the street. Occasionally the revving of an engine or the squeal of tires would stand out, but other than that the sounds from outside were just a dull, solid mass stretching out behind him to the left and right. Pricking up his ears, he could figure out what was making some of the noises. Among them were the voices of insects. This mixed-up herd of sounds now started to float and flutter like a ghost. Reality seemed to recede- that was Ryuji's impression. And as reality receded it left an empty space around him, in which some sort of spirit matter hovered. The chilly night air and the moisture clinging to his skin turned into shadows and closed in on him. The beating of his heart grew faster, outstripping the ticking of the clock. The signs were pressing down on his chest. Ryuji looked again at the clock. 9:44. Every time he looked, he gulped.
A week ago, when I watched that video at Asakawa 's, what time was that? He said his brat always goes to sleep at around nine … Assuming we hit 'play' after that, we would have finished at…
He couldn't figure out exactly when they'd finished watching the video. But he could tell that the time was fast approaching. He was well aware that these indications that were now closing in on him were no counterfeit. This was different from when one's imagination magnified one's fears. This was no imaginary pregnancy. It was definitely coming steadily closer. What he didn't know was…
Why's it only coming for me? Why is it coming for me, when it didn't come for Asakawa? It's not fair.
His mind overflowed with confusion.
What the hell's going on? Didn't we figure out the charm? So why? Why? WHY?
His chest was beating an alarm. It felt like something had reached inside his breast and was squeezing his heart. Pain shot through his spine. He felt a cool touch on his neck, and, startled, he tried to get up from his chair, but instead he was overcome by severe pain in his waist and back. He collapsed on the floor.
Think! What should you do now?
Somehow his remaining consciousness managed to give orders to his body. Stand! Stand and think! Ryuji crawled over the floor mats to the video deck. He pushed eject and took out the tape. Why am I doing this? There was nothing else he could do but take a good long look at this tape that was behind everything. He looked at it back and front, and then went to put it back in the video deck, but stopped. There was a title written on the label on the spine of the tape. Asakawa's handwriting. Liza Minnelli, Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis, Jr/1989. It must have had some music program recorded on it, before Asakawa had used it to dub that video. An electric jolt ran down his spine. A single thought swiftly took shape in his otherwise blank mind. Nonsense, he told himself, putting the thought from his mind, but when he turned the tape over, that momentary jolt changed to a certainty. Suddenly Ryuji understood many things. The riddle of the charm, the old woman's prophecy, and another power hidden in the images on that tape… Why had those four kids in Villa Log Cabin run off without trying to carry out the charm? Why was Ryuji facing death when Asakawa's life had been spared? What had Sadako given birth to? The hint was right here, so close at hand. He hadn't realized that Sadako's power had become fused with another power. She'd wanted to have a child, but her body couldn't bear one. So she'd made a bargain with the devil- for lots of children. What effect is this going to have? Ryuji wondered. He laughed through his pain, an ironic laugh.
You've got to be kidding. I wanted to watch the end of mankind. And here I am, in the vanguard…
He crawled to the telephone and started to dial Asakawa's home number, but then he remembered: he was on Oshima.
Sonofabitch'll sure be surprised when he hears I'm dead. The terrific pressure in his chest made his ribs creak.
He dialled Mai Takano's number. Ryuji wasn't sure whether it was a fierce attachment to life or just a desire to hear her voice one last time which had given rise to this impulse to summon Mai; he couldn't tell the difference anymore. But a voice came to him.
Give it up. It wouldn't be right to get her messed up in this.
But on the other hand, he still had a smidgen of hope-he might still be in time.
The clock on the desk caught his eye. 9:48. He put the receiver to his ear and waited for Mai to come to the phone. His head suddenly felt unbearably itchy. He put his hand to his head and scratched furiously, and felt several strands of hair come out. On the second ring, Ryuji lifted his face. There was a horizontal mirror on the chest of drawers in front of him, and he could see his face reflected in it. Forgetting that he had the phone wedged between his shoulder and his head, he brought his face in close to the mirror. The receiver fell, but he didn't care; he just stared at his face in the mirror. Somebody else was reflected there. The cheeks were yellowish, dried and cracked, and hair was falling out in clumps to reveal brown scabs. A hallucination, it's got to be a hallucination, he told himself. Even so, he couldn't control his emotions. A woman's voice came from the receiver where it lay on the floor: "Hello? Hello?" Ryuji couldn't stand it. He screamed. His screams overlapped with Mai's words, and in the end he wasn't able to hear his beloved's voice. The face in the mirror was none other than his own, a hundred years in the future. Even Ryuji hadn't known it would be so terrifying to meet himself transformed into someone else.
Mai Takano picked up the phone on the fourth ring and said "Hello". The only answer was a ghastly scream. A shudder came over the line. Fear itself came through the line from Ryuji's apartment to Mai's. Surprised, Mai held the receiver away from her ear. The moans continued. The first scream had been one of shock, and the subsequent moans held incredulity. She'd received harassing phone calls several times before, but she immediately realized that this was different, and brought the phone back to her ear. The voice ceased. It was followed by dead silence.
9:49 p.m. His wish to hear the voice of the woman he loved one last time had been cruelly shattered. Instead, all he'd done was drown her in his death cries. Now he breathed his last. Nothingness enveloped his consciousness. Mai's voice came again from the receiver near his hand. His legs were splayed out on the floor, his back was up against the bed, his left arm was thrown back across the mattress, his right hand was stretched out toward the receiver which still whispered "Hello?" and his head was bent backwards, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. Just before he slipped into the void, Ryuji realized he wouldn't be saved, and he remembered to wish with all his might that he could teach that asshole Asakawa the secret of the videotape.
Mai called "Hello, hello," over and over again. No reply. She put the receiver
back in the cradle. Those groans had sounded familiar. A premonition crept into her breast, and she picked up the receiver again to dial her esteemed professor's number. She got a busy signal. She pressed down the hook with her finger and dialed again. Still busy. And she knew that it had been Ryuji calling, and that something horrible had happened to him.
4
October 20-Saturday
He was happy to be home again at last, but with his wife and child gone, the place seemed lonely. How long had it been since he was home? He tried to count on his fingers. He'd spent one night in Kamakura, got stuck on Oshima for two nights, spent the following night in Villa Log Cabin, and then another night on Oshima. He'd only been away for five nights. But it felt as if he'd been gone from home for much longer. He often went away for four or five nights to research articles, but when he came home it always felt like the time had flown by.
Asakawa sat down at the desk in his study and turned on his word processor. His body still ached here and there, and his back hurt when he stood up or sat down. Even the ten hours he'd slept last night couldn't make up for all the sleepless nights of the last week. But he couldn't stop and rest now. If he didn't take care of the work that had piled up, he wouldn't be able to keep his promise to take them on a drive to Nikko tomorrow-Sunday.
He sat right down in front of the word processor. He'd already saved the first half of the report on a floppy disk. Now he needed to add the rest, everything that had happened since Monday, when they had learned the name of Sadako Yamamura. He wanted to finish this document as quickly as possible. By dinnertime he'd written five pages. It was a pretty good pace. The speed of Asakawa's writing usually picked up as the night wore on. At this rate, he'd be able to relax and enjoy seeing his wife and daughter tomorrow. Then, on Monday, he'd go back to his normal life. He couldn't predict how his editor would react to what he was writing now, but he'd never know until he'd finished writing it. Knowing it was probably fruitless effort, Asakawa went through and put the events of the second half of the week in order. Only when the manuscript was finished would he feel that the episode was really and truly over.