34

The Light of a Firefly Breaking the Spell World Where Alarm Clocks Ring in the Morning I promise, I said, but my voice had a certain artificial quality, as when you hear a recording of yourself speaking.

I want to hear you say it: that you wont shine your light on me. I wont shine the light on you. I promise. Do you really promise? Youre telling me the truth?

Im telling you the truth. I wont break my promise. All right, then, what Id really like you to do, if you dont mind, is pour two whiskeys on the rocks and bring them over here. Lots of ice, please. She spoke with the slightest hint of a playful, girlish lisp, but the voice itself belonged to a mature, sensual woman. I laid the penlight lengthwise on the table and in its light went about pouring the two whiskeys, taking a moment first to steady my breathing. I broke the seal on the Cutty Sark, used tongs to fill the two glasses, and poured the whiskey over the ice cubes. I had to think clearly about each task my hands were performing. Large shadows played over the wall with every movement.

I walked into the inner room, holding the two whiskeys in my right hand and lighting my way along the floor with the flashlight in my left. The air felt somewhat chillier than before. I must have worked up a sweat in my rush through the darkness, and now was beginning to cool off. I remembered that I had shed my coat along the way.

In keeping with my promise, I turned out the light and slipped it into my pocket. Then, by touch, I set one whiskey on the night table and took my own with me to the armchair by the bed. In the total darkness, I still remembered the layout of the room.

I seemed to hear the sliding of sheets against each other. She was raising herself in bed and leaning against the headboard, glass now in hand. She gave the glass a little shake, stirring the ice, and took a sip of whiskey. In the darkness, these were all like sound effects in a radio play. I inhaled the aroma of the whiskey in my hand, but I did not drink.

Its been a long time, I said. My voice sounded somewhat more like my own than it had before.

Has it? she said. Im not sure what that means: time or a long time. As I recall, its been exactly one year and five months, I said. Well, well, she said, unimpressed. I cant recall... exactly. I set my glass on the floor and crossed my legs. You werent here last time I came, were you? Of course I was. Right here. In bed. Im always here. Im sure I was in Room 208, though. This is Room 208, isnt it? She swirled the ice in her glass and gave a little laugh. And Im sure you werent so sure.

You were in another Room 208, thats for sure. There was a certain unsteadiness in her voice, which gave me a slightly unsettled feeling.

The alcohol might have been affecting her. I took my wool cap off and laid it on my knee. I said to her, The phone was dead, you know. Yes, I know, she said, with a hint of resignation. They cut it. They knew how I used to like to make calls.

Are they the ones who are keeping you here?

Hmm, I wonder. I dont really know, she said, with a little laugh. The disturbance in the air made her voice quaver slightly.

Facing in her direction, I said, Ive been thinking about you for a very long time. Ever since I was last here. Thinking about who you are and what youre doing here.

Sounds like fun, she said.

I imagined all sorts of possibilities, but I cant be sure of anything yet. Im still in the imagining stage.

Well, well, she said, as if impressed. So you cant be sure of anything yet, youre still in the imagining stage.

Thats right, I said. And I might as well tell you this: I think youre Kumiko. I didnt realize it at first, but Im becoming more and more convinced.

Oh, are you? she said, after a moments pause, sounding amused. So Im Kumiko, am I?

For a moment, I lost all sense of direction, as if everything I was doing was off: I had come to the wrong place to say the wrong things to the wrong person. It was all a waste of time, a meaningless detour. But I managed to set myself straight in the dark. To perform a check on reality, I fastened my hands on the hat in my lap.

Yes, I think you are Kumiko. Because then all kinds of story lines work out. You kept calling me on the phone from here. You were trying to convey some kind of secret to me. A secret of Kumikos. A secret that the real Kumiko in the real world couldnt bring herself to tell me. So you must have been doing it for her- in words like secret codes.

She said nothing for a while. She lifted her glass for another sip of whiskey, then said, I wonder. But if thats what you think, you may be right. Maybe I really am Kumiko. Im still not sure, though. So, then, if its true ... if I really am Kumiko ... I should be able to talk with you here through her voice. Isnt that right? It makes things a little complicated, but do you mind?

No, I dont mind, I said. Once more my voice seemed to have lost a degree of calm and some sense of reality.

She cleared her throat in the darkness. Here goes, then. I wonder if it will work. Again she gave a little laugh. Its not easy, though. Are you in a hurry? Can you stay here awhile?

I dont really know, I said. Wait just a minute. Sorry. Ahem ... Ill be ready in a minute. I waited. So. You came here looking for me. You wanted to see me, is that it? Kumikos earnest voice resounded in the darkness. I had not heard Kumikos voice since that summer morning when I zipped her dress up.

She had been wearing new cologne behind the ears, cologne from someone else. She left the house that day and never came back. Whether the voice in the darkness was the real thing or a fake, it brought me back to that morning for a moment. I could smell the cologne and see the white skin of Kumikos back. The memory was dense and heavy in the darkness-perhaps denser and heavier than in reality. I tightened my grip on my hat.

Strictly speaking, I didnt come here to see you. I came here to bring you back, I said. She released a little sigh in the darkness. Why do you want so badly to bring me back? Because I love you, I said. And I know that you love me and want me. You sound pretty sure of yourself, said Kumiko-or Kumikos voice. There was nothing derisive about her tone of voice-but nothing warm about it, either. I heard the contents of the ice bucket in the next room shifting. I have to solve some riddles, though, if Im going to get you back, I said. Isnt it a little late to be starting such things now? I thought you didnt have that much time. She was right. There was not much time left and too much to think about. I wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. This was probably my last chance, I told myself. I had to think.

I want you to help me, I said. I wonder, said Kumikos voice. I may not be able to help you. But Im willing to try. The first question is why you had to leave me. I want to know the real reason. I know what your letter said-that you had become involved with another man. I read it, of course. And read it and read it and reread it. And I suppose it does serve as some kind of explanation. But I cant believe its the real reason. It doesnt quite ring true. Im not saying its a lie, but I cant help feeling its nothing but a kind of metaphor.

A metaphor?! She sounded truly shocked. Maybe I just dont get it, but if sleeping with other men is a metaphor for something, Id like to know what.

What Im trying to say is that it seems to me to be nothing but an explanation for explanations sake. It doesnt lead anywhere. It just traces the surface. The more I read your letter, the more I felt that. There must be some other reason that is more basic-more real. And it almost certainly involves Noboru Wataya.

I could feel her eyes focused on me in the darkness and was struck by the thought that she might be able to see me.

Involves Noboru Wataya? How? asked Kumikos voice.

Well, finally, the events Ive been through have been tremendously complicated. All kinds of characters have come on the scene, and strange things have happened one after another, to the point where, if I try to think about them in order, I lose track. Viewed at more of a distance, though, the thread running through them is perfectly clear. What it all boils down to is that you have gone over from my world to the world of Noboru Wataya. That shift is the important thing. Even if you did, in fact, have sex with another man or other men, that is just a secondary matter. A front. Thats what Im trying to say.

She inclined her glass somewhat in the darkness. Staring hard toward the source of the sound, I felt as if I could catch a faint glimpse of her movements, but this was obviously an illusion.

People dont always send messages in order to communicate the truth, Mr. Okada, she said. The voice was no longer Kumikos. Neither was it the original girlish voice. This was a new voice, which belonged to someone else. It had a poised, intelligent ring to it. ... just as people dont always meet others in order to reveal their true selves. Do you grasp my meaning, Mr. Okada?

But still, Kumiko was trying to communicate something to me. Whether or not it was the truth, she was looking to me for something, and that was the truth for me.

I sensed the darkness around me increasing in density, much as the evening tide comes to fullness without a sound. I had to hurry. I didnt . have much time left. They might come looking for me here once the lights came back on. I decided to risk putting into words the thoughts that had been slowly forming in my mind.

This is strictly a product of my own imagination, but I would guess that there was some kind of inherited tendency in the Wataya family bloodline. What kind of tendency I cant be sure, but it was some kind of tendency-something that you were afraid of. Which is why you were afraid of having children. When you got pregnant, you panicked because you were worried the tendency would show up in your own child. But you couldnt reveal the secret to me. The whole story started from there.

She said nothing but quietly placed her glass on the night table. I went on: And your sister, Im sure, didnt die from food poisoning. No, it was more unusual than that. The one responsible for her death was Noboru Wataya, and you know that for a fact. Your sister probably said something to you about it before she died, gave you some kind of warning. Noboru Wataya probably had some special power, and he knew how to find people who were especially responsive to that power and to draw something out of them. He must have used that power in a particularly violent way on Creta Kano. She was able, one way or another, to recover, but your sister was not. She lived in the same house, after all: she had nowhere to run to. She couldnt stand it anymore and chose to die. Your parents have always kept her suicide a secret. Isnt that true?

There was no reply. The woman kept quiet in an attempt to obliterate her presence in the darkness.

I went on: How he managed to do it and what the occasion was I have no idea, but at some point Noboru Wataya increased his violent power geometrically. Through television and the other media, he gained the ability to train his magnified power on society at large. Now he is trying to bring out something that the great mass of people keep hidden in the darkness of their unconscious. He wants to use it for his own political advantage. Its a tremendously dangerous thing, this thing he is trying to draw out: its fatally smeared with violence and blood, and its directly connected to the darkest depths of history, because its final effect is to destroy and obliterate people on a massive scale.

She sighed in the darkness. I wonder if I could bother you to pour me another whiskey? she asked softly.

I walked over to the night table and picked up her empty glass. I could do that much in the dark without difficulty. I went into the other room and poured a new whiskey on the rocks with the aid of the flashlight.

What you just said was strictly a product of your own imagination, right? she asked.

Thats right. Ive strung a few separate ideas together, I said. Theres no way I can prove any of this. I dont have any basis for claiming that what I have said is true.

But still, Id like to hear the rest-if there is more to tell.

I went back into the inner room and put the glass on the night table. Then I switched off the flashlight and returned to my chair. There I concentrated my attention on telling the rest of my story.

You didnt know exactly what had happened to your sister, only that she had given you some kind of warning before she died. You were too small at the time to understand what it was about. But you did understand, in a vague sort of way. You knew that Noboru Wataya had somehow defiled and injured your sister. And you sensed the presence in your blood of some kind of dark secret, something from which you could not remain aloof. And so, in that house, you were always alone, always tense, struggling by yourself to live with your dormant, undefinable anxiety, like one of those jellyfish we saw in the aquarium.

After you graduated from college-and after all the trouble with your family- you married me and left the Wataya house. Our life was serene, and with each day that went by, you were able, bit by bit, to forget your dark anxiety. You went out into society, a new person, as you continued gradually to recover. For a while, it looked as though everything was going to work out for you. But unfortunately, it wasnt that simple. At some point you noticed that you were being drawn, unconsciously, toward that dark force that you thought you had left behind. And when you realized what was happening, you became confused. You didnt know what to do. Which is why you went to talk to Noboru Wataya, hoping to learn the truth. And you sought out Malta Kano, hoping that she could give you help. It was only to me that you could not open up.

I would guess that all this started after you became pregnant. That, Im sure, was the turning point. Which is probably why I received my first warning from the guitar player in Sapporo the night you had the abortion. Getting pregnant may have stimulated and awakened the dormant something inside you. And that was exactly what Noboru Wataya had been waiting for. That may be the only way he is capable of sexually committing to a woman. That is why he was so determined to drag you back from my side to his, once that tendency began to surface in you. He had to have you. Noboru Wataya needed you to play the role your sister had once played for him.

When I finished speaking, a deep silence came to fill in the emptiness. I had given voice to everything that my imagination had taught me about Kumiko. Parts of it had come from vague thoughts I had had until then, and the rest had taken shape in my mind while I spoke in the darkness. Perhaps the power of darkness had filled in the blank spots in my imagination. Or perhaps this womans presence had helped. In either case, there was no solid basis for what I had imagined.

A very, very interesting story, said the woman. Again her voice had become the one with the girlish lisp. The speed with which her voice changed seemed to be increasing. Well, well, well. So I left you to go into hiding with my defiled body. Its like Waterloo Bridge in the mist, Auld Lang Syne, Robert Taylor and Vivien Leigh- Im going to take you out of here, I said, cutting her off. Im going to take you home, to the world where you belong, where cats with bent tails live, and there are little backyards, and alarm clocks ring in the morning.

And how are you going to do that? the woman asked. How are you going to take me out of here, Mr. Okada?

The way they do in the fairy tales, I said. By breaking the spell.

Oh, I see, said the voice. But wait a minute, Mr. Okada. You seem to think that I am Kumiko. You want to take me home as Kumiko. But what if Im not Kumiko? What will you do then? You may be preparing to take home someone else entirely. Are you absolutely sure of what youre doing? Shouldnt you think it over one more time?

I made a fist around the flashlight in my pocket. This couldnt possibly be anyone but Kumiko, I thought. But I couldnt prove it. It was finally nothing but a hypothesis. Sweat oozed from the hand in my pocket.

Im going to take you home, I said again, my voice dry. Thats what I came here to do.

I heard movement in the sheets. She was changing her position in the bed. Can you say that for sure? Without a doubt? she asked, pressing me for confirmation. Yes, I can say it for sure. Im going to take you home. And you have no second thoughts? No, none. My mind is made up, I said. She followed this with a long silence, as if checking on the truth of something. Then, to mark the end of this stage in our conversation, she let out a long breath. Im going to give you a present, she said. Its not much of a present, but it may come in handy. Dont turn on the light now, but reach over here-very, very slowly-over to the night table.

I left my chair, and gauging the depth of the emptiness, I stretched my right hand out in the dark. I could feel the airs sharp thorns against my fingertips. And then I touched the thing. When I realized what it was, the air seemed to lodge in the back of my throat. The present was a baseball bat.

I took hold of the grip and held the bat out straight. It was almost certainly the bat I had taken from the young man with the guitar case. The grip and the weight were right. This had to be it. But as I felt it over more carefully, I found that there was something, some kind of debris, stuck to it just above the brand. It felt like a human hair. I took it between my fin- gertips. Judging from the thickness and hardness, it had to be a real human hair. Several such hairs were stuck to the bat, with what seemed to be congealed blood. Someone had used this bat to smash someone else-probably Noboru Wataya-in the head. It took an effort for me to expel the air caught in my throat.

That is your bat, isnt it? she asked.

Probably, I said, struggling to keep calm. My voice had begun to take on a somewhat different tone in the deep darkness, as if someone lurking down here were speaking in my place. I cleared my throat, and after checking to be sure that the one speaking was the real me, I continued: But somebody seems to have used this to beat someone.

The woman kept her mouth sealed. Sitting down, I lowered the bat and held it between my legs. Im sure you know whats going on, I said. Somebody used this bat to crush Noboru Watayas skull. The news I saw on TV was true. Noboru Wataya is in the hospital in critical condition. He might die.

Hes not going to die, said Kumikos voice, without emotion. She might have been reporting a historical fact from a book. He may not regain consciousness, though. He may just continue to wander through darkness, but what kind of darkness that would be, no one knows.

I felt for the glass at my feet and picked it up. I poured its contents into my mouth and, without thinking, swallowed. The tasteless liquid passed through my throat and down my gullet. I felt a chill for no reason, then an unpleasant sensation as if something far away were moving slowly in my direction through a long darkness. As I had known it would, my heart started beating faster.

We dont have much time, I said. Just tell me this if you can: where are we?

Youve been here before, and you found the way in here- alive and unharmed. You should know where this is. And anyhow, it doesnt matter anymore. The important thing- Just then there was a knock on the door-a hard, dry sound, like someone driving a nail into the wall, two loud raps followed by two more. It was the same knock I had heard before. The woman gasped.

Youve got to get out of here, she said, in a voice that was unmistakably Kumikos. If you go now, you can still pass through the wall.

I had no idea if what I was thinking was right or wrong, but I knew that as long as I was down here, I had to defeat this thing. This was the war that I would have to fight.

Im not running away this time, I said to Kumiko. Im going to take you home.

I set my glass on the floor, put my wool hat on, and took the bat from between my knees.

Then I started slowly for the door.