Strangely, they were both wearing caps. Takeshi’s was a Man U cap, and Bunji’s—FC Barcelona. But maybe it wasn’t so strange after all—both clubs are over a hundred years old. Where were the boys going? They kept on walking. Even farther? Even farther. The older one needed to pee—the younger one knew the signs. There was a large field beside the road. There was a notice that said “For Sale.” Were there any broad open spaces like that near the village? Maybe there had been then—there would have been many fewer houses in those days. The younger one took down the older one’s pants at the corner of the field. As soon as they were down, dark yellow pee spurted out from the tip of his swollen penis. It landed on the grass, and some splashed against Takeru’s shin—not Takeru’s…Takeshi’s. The grass where the pee hit turned yellow, turned brown, turned black, as though it had been burned. It withered away almost instantly. No, just the opposite. It grew…furiously twining around the boys’ feet. So they left. The older one’s pants weren’t all the way up, so his bottom was showing and people snickered as they passed. They could laugh. That was okay. They could mock. That was okay. But why didn’t they stop them? The boys waited at the bus stop. After a while a bus came. Do you go to the aquarium? Takeshi asked the driver. So Takeshi wanted to go there too, thought Takeru. But was there an aquarium in those days? The village is by the sea. They don’t have to go to an aquarium to see things—well maybe they couldn’t see sea otters, but lobsters, crabs, octopuses, rays, even dolphins were just there. And what would be the point of going now? There are no dolphins at the aquarium anymore. Perhaps Takeshi didn’t know. The dolphins weren’t there, which meant the older brother couldn’t swim with them, which meant he’d never get better. Get on this bus to the terminal, then change to the 6 or the 21, said the driver. Takeshi took a ten-thousand-yen note from his pocket to pay for the tickets. It was just like the one that Joel had given Takeru. Had Yukichi Fukuzawa’s face been on the note for so long? Someone in the village said Fukuzawa came from their own Oita prefecture. But someone else said he came from the northern part and had nothing to do with the south. So there’s no luck with money or work in the south, said another. The driver frowned at the bill. Got nothin’ smaller? Then he looked at the older brother. Don’t worry about his fare, he said. Why? Just don’t. Was it because Bunji didn’t go to school and so didn’t qualify as a student for fares? Don’t worry about yours either, said the driver. Was it because there was almost nobody on the bus? It’s okay. Just get on, said the driver, giving a slow wink. Just don’t tell anyone. Takeru didn’t see much of them after that. The bus was comfortable and its vibrations made him sleepy. He was woken by the driver. His brother was asleep beside him. He shook him awake. They got off the bus hand in hand. He looked for the stop for the 6 or 21. A 21 bus had arrived. They got on. Again, the older one didn’t have to pay. Do you want to get on right now? asked the driver. I’m not leaving for a while. It didn’t matter. They sat down at the back of the bus. The heater was on. The windows were steamed up. The older one was already asleep. The younger one took his brother’s FC Barcelona cap gently from his head. That was the one he’d really wanted, but he hadn’t been able to say. He took off his own cap and put it on the older one’s head. He put the older one’s cap on his own head. Takeru looked at the window, but he didn’t see his face reflected there with the cap on his head. Was that because the window was steamed up? Was that the only reason? He felt dizzy. He felt sick. He looked at his brother, who was fast asleep with his head against the window, mouth half open. His breathing was awkward and saliva dribbled from his mouth. Leaving his brother asleep, Takeru stood up and asked the driver if there was a place where he could use the bathroom. Did he need to be sick? Did his stomach hurt? Did he just want to pee? There were a few other passengers on the bus now, sitting here and there. The nearest public toilet is over there, said the driver. Hurry up. I’m leaving soon. So Takeru ran from the bus to the bathroom. A cone blocked the entrance. The bathroom was being cleaned. He heard water from a hose washing down the floor. He rushed over to the shopping center across from the bus station. It was crowded. Everyone was laden with shopping bags, but they didn’t block each other’s way. Takeru’s chest was blocked, though. He could hardly breathe. Where was the bathroom? He couldn’t see one. He wanted to cry. He cried. He cried. He waited as his tears flowed, as time flowed quickly by. Was that what happened? He didn’t know what he was doing. He knew. He didn’t know anything. He knew everything. Had the bus carrying his brother arrived at Lion Cross Point?
“Takeru!”
The sound of Ken’s voice made Takeru jump.
“Shocked t’see me?” said Ken, laughing.
“You off work already?” Mitsuko asked Ken.
“Finished ’bout three. I was washin’ the company truck,” said Ken. “But more interestin’ than that—Ito Fisheries caught a dolphin in one of their nets.”
“That’s strange,” Mitsuko said.
“Yeah, that’s why I came over,” said Ken. “Takeru, you want t’come and have a look? I can take ya.”
“What?” asked Takeru, looking up at Ken. “Now? To see the dolphin they caught?”
“Yeah.”
“But we’re still going to Dolphin Village tomorrow, aren’t we?”
“Yeah,” Mitsuko intervened. “You’ll see lots of dolphins tomorrow. There’s no harm in not goin’ today.”
“Well…thing is, Mitsuko,” said Ken awkwardly, “there was that storm the other day…”
“The one that blocked the road?”
“Yeah. That storm hit Dolphin Village. I found out yesterday from my friend who has that yellowtail farm o’er in Shishinome.”
“Hit? You mean it was damaged?”
“Some huge waves came smashin’ into the bay and ripped the nettin’ of the dolphin pen. A lot of ’em escaped.”
“The dolphins escaped?” exclaimed Takeru.
“That’s what I heard. And now they’re eating all the fish in the fishin’ grounds. It’s a real problem.”
Mitsuko looked mystified.
“If it was such a big problem you’d think it’d been in the newspaper. I read it every day, but I ain’t seen nothing ’bout that.”
“Can’t say,” said Ken. “Don’t look at the newspapers much. But that was what my friend told me. And I figure the one they caught must’ve been from Dolphin Village. That’d make sense.”
“I wonder,” said Mitsuko dubiously. “Just ’cause a dolphin’s escaped doesn’t mean it’s gonna swim straight into a net. They’re supposed to be clever, ain’t they?”
“They can cure people,” said Takeru.
Neither Mitsuko nor Ken was listening.
“Well, anyway, it’s my day off tomorrow so I’ll take Takeru and Saki to Dolphin Village, and if it’s closed we’ll go on a bit farther to the prefectural aquarium. It’ll be quick on the highway and there’s lots t’see there. That’d be ’kay, right Takeru?”
“Do they have dolphins?” asked Takeru.
“Course. And they’ve got otters and sea lions too. They have a dolphin show, and a sea lion show as well. That’ll work, won’t it?”
“Yes,” said Takeru. “It’s fine by me. But what about Saki?”
“If it’s ’kay with you, I’m sure Saki won’t mind,” said Ken.
“Yeah,” said Mitsuko. “It’ll be good, Takeru. Just next to the aquarium there’s a place where they feed wild monkeys. Get Ken to take ya there too.”
“I think I’ve seen enough monkeys,” said Takeru, looking slightly embarrassed. “There are lots around here.”
“That’s true,” said Mitsuko, smiling.
“And we’ve got Hii-chan too,” said Ken.
Takeru laughed as he pictured the old man’s monkey-like features.
“Don’t go sayin’ things like that!” said Mitsuko, though she was laughing as well.
The next day Ken came to pick them up at 8:30 as promised. Saki had gotten up early and come over to Mitsuko’s house
at 7:00 for breakfast.
The children were ready in good time and sat waiting eagerly for Ken to arrive. There had been rain overnight, but it had stopped around dawn, and by the time they got into the car there were just a few dark clouds left in the sky to the east.
The village always stank of the sea. The stench of rotting shellfish hung heavy in the air, especially after rain. Driving around the bay, the smell of the sea never left your nostrils, even with the windows closed, and the road wound on endlessly, so Takeru had always felt carsick when he first arrived. But that didn’t last long. You could get used to a smell even if you hated it. You could probably get used to a place too, Takeru thought, if you lived there long enough—even a place you hated, detested.
They turned right at the bus stop. Old Tsuru was already sitting there, the spot already bathed in sunshine. Tsuru saw them and lifted his hand. But no. He wasn’t acknowledging Takeru, Saki, or Ken, but something bigger. But now Takeru was inside that big thing, so why not say Tsuru was acknowledging him? Takeru guessed that in Tsuru’s raised fist was his glass eye. Takeru didn’t know if that eye would see, but he raised his own hand and gave a little wave in Tsuru’s direction.
Takeru was looking out the window. There was nothing remarkable about the color of the sky or the shapes of the clouds. That sky could have been anywhere. He looked toward the hills beyond the bay. They were covered in trees. Birds, animals, and insects lived there, but he couldn’t see them or sense them. The sea was a perfectly normal dark blue. Fish, crabs, and octopuses lived there, but he couldn’t see them or sense them either. He saw the long quay floating on the bay. There were birds walking on it and flying above it—big herons and seedy-looking hawks with missing feathers. Sometimes they landed on the narrow shoulder of the coast road and lingered for a while. He looked at the shapes of people’s houses, the colors of the roofs, and the sunlight they reflected. The narrow road. The slanting telephone poles. The black, sagging telephone wires. He was part of this landscape now, so his mother must also hate him.
The houses became fewer and farther between. The road curved in and out along the coast from one village to the next. It was narrow and had no center line.
The speed limit was 30 kmph, but Ken knew the curves well and was driving at nearly 50 kmph. He drove very differently than Mitsuko. She always kept within the speed limit. If she saw a car coming up fast in the rearview mirror, she’d mutter: “Oh no, he’s right behind me! I don’t like that. Let’s get rid of him.” When she reached a suitable place, she’d pull over and let her exasperated followers (the people in both the driver and passenger seats were almost always acquaintances) go ahead. “What’s the rush?” she’d say, sharing her mild irritation with Takeru. If a roadside mirror showed a car coming around the curve in the opposite direction, she’d break sharply, nearly stopping, to give the other car space to pass freely. She was very serious about driving safely, especially with a child in the car.
Ken’s car, with Takeru and Saki in the back, drove on, curve after curve. Eventually, Lion Cross Point came into view, jutting sharply out into the sea toward the headland on the far side of the bay. The road followed the coast out toward the Point.
“I still don’t know why it’s called Lion Cross Point, Takeru,” said Ken, “but let me tell ya ’bout something I do know that happened here once. You’ll find it interestin’, both of you.”
“What?” asked Saki, leaning forward.
“It’s ’bout your dad, Tatsuya, and Takeru’s ma, Wakako.”
Takeru had never heard any stories about his mother from when she was young. He listened nervously to what Ken said:
Tatsuya had just bought his first car. He’d left school and had begun working at Kawase Fisheries. He’d managed to save enough to buy a used Skyline R31. He wanted to take it out for a drive, so he asked Wakako to come with him. She was a year younger, in her third year at the local high school.
Takeru couldn’t tell from what Ken was saying whether they had been boyfriend and girlfriend.
Tatsuya had suggested Ken come along with them in his own car (a used Civic), so Ken was following them. Ken was worried that Tatsuya was going a bit too fast—he was an inexperienced driver, taking the bends very wide. It was late (“Your mother wasn’t the studyin’ type,” Ken said), so luckily there wasn’t anyone coming in the opposite direction. Still, it was a dangerous way to drive. Ken’s heart was in his mouth. He felt something was going to happen and then it did.
“What?” asked Saki eagerly.
Just then Takeru saw something.
“Look!” he said, pointing toward the sea beyond Lion Cross Point.
The water was shining like molten silver in the morning sun. Something had risen gently to the surface. The light behind it was dazzling, but there was no doubt about what it was.
Ken kept talking, though, his eyes on Lion Cross Point:
Tatsuya’s car was approaching the Point. They started going around the curve. Ken’s car followed. But suddenly, to Ken’s astonishment, Tatsuya’s car was no longer in front of him. It had disappeared entirely.
“Disappeared? What do ya mean, Ken?” said Saki.
Takeru gazed silently at what had appeared on the surface of the sea.
“It just disappeared,” said Ken. “I couldn’t understand it. A moment earlier it’d been right there in front of me. I thought it might’ve been carried away by spirits.”
But it was nothing like that. The explanation was simple. The car hadn’t made it around the bend. It was going too fast, couldn’t manage the turn, and went crashing through the guardrail. (“No,” he said on reflection, “I don’t suppose there was a guardrail at Lion Cross Point in them days.”) It dove straight into the sea.
“Dove? Splash?” laughed Saki.
Ken smiled.
“It’s nothin’ to laugh ’bout, Saki,” he said. “Well, I can smile ’bout it now, too, but it was terrifyin’. There were no lights on the road, and it was completely dark. They could easily have drowned. I could hear the car sinkin’. I turned my car so the headlights were shinin’ over the water. There were bubbles comin’ up to the surface. They’re dead, I thought. I really did.”
“But they weren’t dead, were they?” Saki said. “Thank goodness!”
“They were lucky. It was late summer and still hot, so the car windows were all open.
“They’d both been brought up by the sea, so they were good swimmers. They managed t’climb out the windows and swim up. I was so relieved when I saw their heads bobbin’ on the surface. I had been ’bout to dive in myself.”
Takeru tried to imagine it. What had his mother seen? Was that what made her hate this place, detest it? Was that why she’d wanted to get away as soon as she could? Takeru could see something. Might this be what his mother saw? As she struggles to get out the window of the sinking car, from the dark depths of the silent ocean, a dolphin suddenly appears, its body swaying through the water. It swims up close. Its eyes meet hers. It puts its pointed mouth to her ear. She sees the neat lines of its teeth. It whispers. It whispers gently. It tells her important things—about her future, about the two brothers, about what will happen and what can’t be avoided. His mother nods. She nods. But does she understand? Does she really comprehend? The dolphin turns. It encourages her and she doesn’t hesitate. She could have, perhaps she should have, but instead she stretches out her hand and grips the fin on the dolphin’s back. It flicks its tail and heads straight up to the surface, bringing her back to the world.
But was that a good thing?
It’s okay, it’s okay, said a voice—a reply from what had surfaced beyond Lion Cross Point, trying to erase Takeru’s doubts, doubts that would never disappear.
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Lion Cross Point Page 9