by Kotaro Isaka
‘So what?’
‘Drinking alcohol stimulates the A10 cells.’
‘So what?’
‘When you drink you get a feeling of having done something worthwhile, even though you haven’t done anything at all. This is easy, you say. It’s easy, and it feels good. So then what do you suppose happens? You just keep drinking, like the people who keep pushing the lever. And as you go on like that, eventually, your brain starts to change shape.’
‘What do you mean, your brain changes shape?’
‘Once that happens, there’s no changing it back. It develops a switch that flips the moment alcohol enters the system. Say there’s an alcoholic who hasn’t had a drink for a long time. The symptoms of addiction have vanished, he’s able to lead a normal life again. But if he takes even one sip, he’ll go right back to being unable to stop. Because his brain is still wired that way. It has nothing to do with his willpower or resolve. It’s just the way his brain works. Like how a man’s pupils will dilate reflexively when he sees a naked woman. There’s nothing he can do to help it. That’s the mechanism of dependence.’
‘Mechanism of dependence. Real fancy talk, Dad. Anyway, what about the fact that brandy dates back to Mesopotamian culture?’
‘We don’t even know if that’s actually true. Don’t believe everything you hear, it’ll make a fool of you. Listen, there’s only one way to beat alcoholism, and that’s to give up drinking entirely. One sip and it’s all over. You shouldn’t be looking to alcohol or drugs for a sense of accomplishment. What you should be doing is good, honest work. Taking your satisfaction the easy way leads the human body to form dependencies.’
‘Again with the fancy talk.’
‘You should do like I do and work a proper job,’ the old man said forcefully. ‘That’d give you a healthier sense of accomplishment.’
‘A proper job? You’ve worked a supermarket stockroom my whole life.’ As long as Kimura could remember his parents had lived humbly. They worked at a supermarket near where they lived, basically glorified part-time jobs. They worked meekly, earned meekly. Kimura had always looked down on them for it.
‘The stockroom is important work. I have to manage stock, place orders.’ His father exhaled sharply through rounded nostrils. ‘What about you? You’ve never held an honest job in your life!’
‘Uh, you mean except for the job I have now with the security company.’
‘Oh, well, yes. That’s a good job. Sorry.’ The apology sounded sincere. ‘But you never worked before that.’
‘Forget about the past. I mean, what, are you gonna accuse me of not having a job when I was in school? No one did! Anyway, I had a job before I was a security guard.’
‘What kind of job?’ His father peered into his face and Kimura looked away. What kind of job? Someone would hire him, he would get his gun, he would mess with other people’s lives.
Not exactly humanitarian work. But if he told his father that, the old man would feel like he had failed as a parent. He almost told him, just to make his father feel as bad as he himself was feeling, but he hesitated. It didn’t seem worth it to burden his father with that kind of hurtful information on top of the natural challenges of getting older. ‘I guess the kind of job you can’t talk about in polite company, is that it?’
‘What, you can tell just by looking?’
‘That’s right.’
‘You’d have a fit if I told you, Dad, so I’ll spare you the pain.’
‘Hey, I got into my share of trouble when I was young.’
‘I think mine was on a different level,’ Kimura said with a bitter smile. Nothing’s as boring as when old folks brag about how hard things used to be or how much hell they used to raise.
‘Forget all that. Just stop drinking, that’s all.’
‘I appreciate you worrying about my health.’
‘It’s not you I’m worried about, it’s Wataru. You’re tough enough, if a giant shoe stomped on you you’d probably survive.’
‘What am I, a cockroach?’ He chuckled. ‘If a giant shoe stomped on me I’d die like anybody else.’
‘Listen, if you care at all about Wataru you’ll stop drinking.’
‘Hey, I’ve thought about quitting, you know, for Wataru’s sake.’ Even as he said it he was unscrewing the cap on the flask.
‘But you just said – and now you’re –’ wailed his father. ‘I’ll tell you again, the only way to overcome dependency is to cut yourself off completely.’
‘Guess I’m just a no-good lush.’
The old man stared at him. ‘If you were just a lush that might be okay. But if you’re no good as a person, then there’s no hope for you.’ His lips trembled slightly.
‘Yeah, yeah.’ Kimura opened the flask and brought it up to his mouth. With his father’s warning echoing in his head he felt some shame, and only took a small sip. He could feel the alcohol hit him, could feel his brain changing shape like a sponge being twisted. He shuddered.
Later that day, after dropping his parents off at the train station, Kimura led Wataru back the way they came, through the old shopping arcade and into the residential neighbourhood.
‘Daddy, someone’s crying.’ Wataru tugged on Kimura’s hand as they were passing by an alley alongside a closed-down gas station. Kimura was in a bit of a daze, holding his son’s hand but not really there, haunted by his father’s words. He kept hearing it over and over again: there’s no cure for alcohol dependency. Up until then he had thought that even if you had a dependency you could get treatment, get better and still drink. Like if you get gonorrhoea, your dick gets inflamed, and until you take care of it you can’t have sex, but once you get it cleared up you can do it again. He was sure that alcoholism worked the same way. But if what his father said was true, then alcoholism was different from gonorrhoea. There’s no cure, and you can never drink again.
‘Look, Daddy!’ He heard his son calling him again, looked down at the boy’s face, then followed his gaze. Between the shuttered gas station and the next building over was a group of kids in school uniform, four in all.
Two of them had another one pinned by the arms so that he couldn’t go anywhere. The fourth one stood facing the others. The one being held looked desperate. ‘Come on, stop.’ He was crying.
‘What’s happening, Daddy?’
‘Don’t worry about it. It’s just some big boys doing their big boy thing.’
Kimura wanted to keep walking. When he thought back to his own schooldays, there was always someone pushing someone else around, getting up to something bad. Kimura was usually among those doing the pushing, so he knew that most of the time it happened for no particular reason. People just feel better when they can put themselves above other people. By grinding someone else down, you prop yourself up. That’s the way people work.
‘Wait. Wait! It’s just as much your fault as it is mine!’ The kid being held was almost shrieking. ‘How come I’m the only one who’s getting it?’
Kimura stopped walking and looked again. The kid had short hair dyed brown and a uniform that was too small. He looked fit and strong – this wasn’t picking on the weak, it seemed to be more like friends kicking someone out of their group. Kimura’s interest was piqued a little.
‘What’d you expect, man? He jumped because you overdid it,’ said the kid holding Brown-hair’s right arm. This one had a round face and a broad brow, looked a bit like a boulder, but still with the innocence of youth.
I guess teenagers are still basically kids, thought Kimura. Seeing kids so young acting so hard felt surreal somehow.
‘But we were all in on it. And anyway, even before I put the video online he was all, I wish I were dead, I wanna die.’
‘We were supposed to get him up to the point of suicide, but not actually have him do it. The Prince is really pissed off,’ said the one on Brown-hair’s left arm.
The Prince. The name rang a bell. But more than that, why were they talking about death and suicide?
&n
bsp; ‘Once you’ve had your shock it’ll all be over, so just deal with it.’
‘I don’t want it!’
‘Think about it,’ said the fourth one, the tallest. ‘What’ll happen if you don’t take it now? Then we all get shocked. That’s what. So it’ll happen to you either way. But if we get it too then we’ll all be angry with you. If you just take what’s coming to you now then we’ll be thankful. If you’re gonna get it either way, which way would you rather have it? You want us to be angry with you or to thank you?’
‘Well, what if we just pretended you did it? We’ll tell the Prince I got the shock.’
‘You think he’ll fall for that?’ The tall one gave a pained smile. ‘You think you can trick the Prince?’
‘Excuse me, young men.’ Kimura put on a phoney formal tone as he entered the alley, leading Wataru by the hand. ‘Did your bullying cause the death of a classmate?’ He nodded encouragingly. ‘I certainly am impressed.’
The schoolboys looked at one another. Their three-against-one formation dissolved and they hastily became a foursome once again, eyeing Kimura warily.
‘Can we help you?’ said the tall one darkly. His face was red, either from anxiety or anger, Kimura couldn’t tell which, but it was obvious they were trying to look tough. ‘You lost something?’
‘Did I lose something? I can see that something’s going down here,’ Kimura said, pointing to the kid being restrained. ‘What do you mean, shock? Electric shock? What are you up to?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You were being really loud, I heard everything. You guys bullied a classmate until he killed himself. Well, that’s kind of fucked up. So, what, now you’re having a review meeting?’ As Kimura was talking, Wataru started to tug on his hand. He whispered that he wanted to go home.
‘Shut up, old man. Take your kid and get outta here.’
‘Who’s the Prince?’
As soon as he said that all four boys went white. It was like someone had invoked a terrible curse. Their reaction made Kimura even more curious. At the same moment he recalled meeting that student in the department store.
‘Ah, right, now I remember the Prince. And you guys, too – I saw you in the toilets. You were having a secret meeting. You were all worried, oh no, the Prince will be angry, what are we gonna do!’ As he ribbed them, he thought back to the kid he met who called himself the Prince. ‘You’re actually scared of that little goody two-shoes?’
All four of them were silent.
The tall one held a plastic bag from a convenience store. Kimura took a quick step closer and plucked it out of his hand. The boy was taken completely unawares, suddenly becoming frantic, clawing at the bag to get it back. Kimura dodged easily, then grabbed the kid’s outstretched hand and twisted hard on the pinkie. The kid yelped.
‘Don’t think you can mess with me, buddy, I’ll break your finger. I’ve been around a whole lot longer than any of you. I’ve toughed it out through many more boring hours of life than you have. Know how many times I’ve broken someone’s fingers?’ Despite what he was saying he spoke nonchalantly. He handed the bag over to Wataru. ‘What’s in it?’
The schoolkids buzzed in protest.
‘One move and I’ll break this one’s pinkie. Just try me.’
‘Daddy, what is this?’ Wataru took some sort of appliance out of the bag. It was fairly low-tech, like the remote control for a toy car, with wires and switches on it.
‘Yeah, what is this thing?’ Kimura let go of the kid’s hand and took the device. ‘Looks like the power pack for a train set.’
One of Kimura’s school friends, a kid with a rich dad, had lots of model train sets that he loved to show off. This thing looked like the power pack that channelled electricity to the train tracks. Or maybe that’s exactly what it was. It had a few wires coming out of it and one end was taped up. A power cord dangled from the other end. ‘What’s this for?’
The kids left his question hanging in the air unanswered.
Kimura stared at the device. Then he looked around and noticed an outlet low on the wall of the gas station. Probably for when the station attendants had to use some power tool. It had a cover over it to protect it from the rain.
‘Wait, you were gonna plug this in and then, like, press the wires on his body and give him an electric shock? Is that it?’ As he pieced it together Kimura started to feel a little unsettled. When he was in school he had hurt people too, but it was only ever just hitting them. He never even thought of using electricity. And this device looked like it had been specially modified for exactly that purpose. He got the feeling that it was used on a fairly regular basis. ‘You guys do this often?’ Using electrical appliances seemed to him like next-level bullying, verging on torture. ‘This is, what, the Prince’s idea?’
‘How do you know about the Prince?’ the brown-haired one who had been held by the others asked with a quaver in his voice.
‘I met him in the department store after I first saw you guys. When you were all scared and crying in the toilets about the Prince being angry with you. I was there, remember?’
‘Oh wait –’ Recognition dawned on the tall one as he looked at Kimura’s face. Then it seemed to hit the others, this was the booze-reeking man who butted in on their deliberations.
‘That time it was Takuya whose turn it was to get punished.’ Somehow the name he’d heard in the toilets popped into Kimura’s head. ‘Takuya was scared because he didn’t follow his majesty the Prince’s orders and the Prince was mad. You were all, Oh no, oh no, what’ll we do, right?’
The kids looked at each other again, exchanging some silent message. Then the round-faced one spoke quietly. ‘Takuya’s dead.’
The other three whipped round to glare at him for revealing this to a stranger, their faces drained of colour.
‘What do you mean, dead? Is that a metaphor?’ Kimura spoke tauntingly so he wouldn’t have to admit to himself that he was starting to get scared. ‘You mean like how rock and roll is dead? Pro baseball’s dead, Takuya’s dead?’
Strained, sickly smiles spread on the schoolkids’ faces, not because they were making fun of Kimura, but because they both identified with and were disheartened by how shaken the man looked.
‘You mean he’s actually dead? So the person you mentioned before, who jumped, that was Takuya?’ Kimura sighed. He didn’t expect things to take such a dark turn. ‘You know when someone dies, that’s it, they’re gone.’
Wataru kept tugging on his hand, and Kimura himself began to think it wasn’t such a good idea to have gotten involved. He turned to leave.
But then he heard one of the kids shout behind him: ‘Wait, sir, help us!’ He turned back round. The four boys all looked pale. Their cheeks were quivering. ‘Please,’ said the tall one, and at the same moment the one with the round face said, ‘Do something,’ and the other two both said, ‘Help us.’ Of course they hadn’t planned this chorus, as if it were a rehearsal for the student arts festival. They all just broke at the same time, finally realising they had to reach out for help, their voices layering over one another, making their pain seem all the more poignant.
‘First you try to act tough and now you’re asking for help? Which is it?’
By that point they were nothing more than frightened little boys. Their entreaties came pouring out as if a dam had burst.
‘You don’t look like you’re some dumb salaryman, mister.’
‘You gotta do something about the Prince!’
‘He’s gonna kill us all!’
‘It’s like everything’s gone crazy, our whole school’s crazy, all because of him!’
Kimura couldn’t believe this was happening. He waved his hand, leave me alone, what do you expect me to do? He felt like a fisherman who casually throws in a line and hooks a monster fish that may well pull him into the water. He felt afraid.
‘All right, fine, I’ll get rid of the Prince for you,’ he said, half in desperation, not meaning it. The
kids lit up, like a beam of light shone down on them. This upset Kimura even more. He looked around. It was a narrow alley, but it was clearly visible from the street. To anyone passing by it would have looked like nothing so much as a man and his child being mugged by some teenagers. Or maybe a man with child in tow giving a sermon to some students. ‘I’ll do it if each of you pays me a million yen.’
He threw that in to make it clear it would never happen, but amazingly the schoolboys seemed willing to take him up on it, beginning to discuss how they could get the money together. ‘Come on, guys,’ Kimura said frantically, ‘I was obviously joking. Talk to your parents. If you’re having so much trouble with the Prince, go cry to mummy and daddy. Or to your teachers.’
They were all mumbling and whimpering, on the verge of tears.
‘Look at you. You guys are too much. Leave me out of it.’ Kimura looked down and saw Wataru staring back at him. But the boy wasn’t looking at his face; his eyes were locked on the flask in Kimura’s hand. When did I …? He screwed the cap shut. Which meant that he must have opened it. He hadn’t even realised it. He had taken the flask out, unscrewed the cap and had a drink, all without noticing. He tried to keep himself from clicking his tongue in frustration. There was concern in Wataru’s eyes, and also sadness.
Well, these schoolkids were leaning on me so heavy. Kimura cast around for his excuse. Of course I’m going to want to have a little drink, they got me all stressed out. He needed a drink to keep his wits about him, so he could take care of Wataru. The moment the alcohol hit him was like rain falling on parched earth, nourishing all the nerves in his whole body, making his head clear and sharp. See, what’s so bad about alcohol? He even started to feel a touch of pride. Whether it’s poison or medicine it all comes down to how you use it, and I know how to use it right.
‘Takuya,’ croaked one of the kids. ‘Last month his dad was fired.’
‘Huh?’ Kimura’s brows knitted together at the sudden change in direction. ‘You mean Takuya who died?’