Authors: Miyuki Miyabe
“Why, all I could see was a boy taking a rather peaceful nap. You were even smiling. Have any good dreams?” Mr. Daimatsu smiled.
When I was in Vision, my body must have stayed behind…asleep.
“I’m fine,” Wataru said, shaking the last of the fog from his head. “Thank you, Mr. Daimatsu. I’m sorry I went into your building.”
Wataru’s words seemed to snap his uncle back to reality. He immediately began to apologize. “Mr. Daimatsu, I can’t tell you how sorry I am that we trespassed on your property like that…”
Mr. Daimatsu laughed out loud. “Like I said, please, don’t worry about it. Wataru, I heard the story from your uncle. If there’s someone in that building who is threatening children—I don’t care who it is—we need to take appropriate action. Don’t worry, I’ll do everything necessary to make sure that building stays safe.” Mr. Daimatsu scratched his head with a thick-fingered hand. “We never really took it seriously when that rumor about the haunting was going around. I thought everything would be fine if we just dropped by every once in a while to check up on the place and make sure no one was getting into trouble.”
“That’s why he came by tonight, to check the place out,” Satoru said, practically cringing with embarrassment. “Good for us. By myself, why, I had no idea what to do.”
The relief on his face was evident, but something didn’t quite fit. Uncle Lou was a lifeguard with years of experience. He had saved countless lives before.
So why did he get so flustered when it was me? Does that make sense?
“If you’re feeling okay, perhaps we should get going?”
Wataru nodded. Mr. Daimatsu offered to give them a lift, but his uncle politely refused. “It’s not far, and I wouldn’t dream of imposing any more than we already have. I’m terribly sorry about all of this.”
“As you like. Wataru, I’m glad you’re feeling better. And you needn’t be concerned about that building any longer.”
Wataru nodded again, and said he understood—although secretly he was disappointed. If Mr. Daimatsu really did intend to put proper security on the building, it would be more difficult to reach the Porta Nectere.
I have to talk to Mitsuru.
Wataru wouldn’t avoid him or run away this time, and he wouldn’t let Mitsuru dodge him again. Wataru wouldn’t back down, not even if he was made a fool of again.
Was Mitsuru really one of the Travelers he had heard about? How did someone get accepted by the gatekeeper? And what was he doing, going between this world and the other, anyway? Wataru had no shortage of questions wanting answers.
As they left Mr. Daimatsu’s and began walking down the darkened road, Satoru held Wataru’s hand. It made Wataru feel uncomfortably like a little boy.
“I’m fine, really. You don’t have to hold my hand.”
Uncle Lou looked down at him, his face drawn. The corners of his eyes still glistened with tears.
Wataru realized he still hadn’t apologized sufficiently. His uncle must’ve been worried sick. “I’m sorry. I am—I must have been tired. I wasn’t sick. I was just sleeping, like Mr. Daimatsu said. I wonder when I fell asleep. I must’ve really been out cold.”
His uncle nodded. “No, it’s okay. I overreacted.” He walked ahead, when Wataru realized something was wrong. He was walking in the opposite direction from their apartment.
“Uh, Uncle Lou, we’re going the wrong direction. That’s not the way home.”
“You’re not going home tonight.”
“Huh?”
“You’ll be spending the night with me in the hotel, Wataru. We’ll walk to the main street and get a taxi.”
Wataru followed his uncle, looking up at him. Even in the dim light of the streetlamps he could see his uncle’s face twisted strangely, like he was about to burst into tears. Then, quite suddenly, he seemed unusually happy.
“That phone call, it was from your father.”
He must be talking about the call that came in on his cell phone in the haunted building. “He said you could stay with me for the night.”
A problem with that plan suggested itself immediately to Wataru. “But I don’t have tomorrow off. I have school tomorrow.”
“We’ll get up early, and I’ll take you there.”
“But I don’t have a change of clothes…”
Wataru looked down at his shirt and trousers. Suddenly, he remembered the screw-wolves.
Those bone fragments! There’s still got to be some on me.
“Uncle Lou, don’t I smell? I mean, smell funny?”
Wataru began frantically brushing at his clothes. His uncle stood quietly, hand over his face. Wataru was so absorbed in what he was doing, he didn’t find his uncle’s expression odd until he was finished.
“Hey? What’s wrong? You feeling okay?”
Uncle Lou talked through his fingers. “I can’t do this. I just can’t,” he said.
Wataru stopped.
“I won’t lie to you. And telling you this isn’t my job.”
“Huh?”
His uncle lifted his face and grabbed Wataru by the hand. Then he pulled him violently in the direction of his apartment. “Let’s go, Wataru. It’s your house too. You’ve a right to go home. You’ve a right to hear the whole story.”
“Huh? Wh-what are you talking about?”
“Just come. I’m taking you home.”
His uncle dragged him by the hand, walking faster than Wataru had ever seen him walk before. They were practically running.
But when they reached the apartment complex entranceway, his uncle suddenly stopped and hesitated. Steeling his resolve, he dragged Wataru to the elevator. Arriving on the correct floor, he hesitated once more. It was as though his uncle had to battle some horrible monster at every step to advance, a monster that only his uncle could see.
Wataru was scared. Suddenly, he didn’t want to go home. Something dark and ominous rose in his chest. When his uncle said they would be staying at the hotel, he should’ve just agreed. Why did he have to worry about school, or a change of clothes?
Uncle Lou pressed the doorbell to their apartment. The sound of the chime echoed down the quiet hall. Wataru glanced at his wristwatch. It was already past midnight.
He heard slippered feet shuffling toward the door. There was a click and the door opened. The chain was drawn. Akira Mitani’s face peered out from behind the door. Wataru stiffened. His father’s face was pale and tired. He looked like he had aged a hundred years in a single day.
“Satoru?” he muttered, then he noticed that Wataru was with him, and his mouth tightened.
“Good, I’m glad you’re still here,” his uncle said in a low voice. “I brought Wataru home. Let us in.”
Akira closed the door. There was the sound of him clumsily unfastening the chain, and then they were let in without a word. Ahead of them Akira turned around and went back into the living room. Wataru hadn’t even been able to see his face.
The light was on in the living room, but the kitchen and the bathroom were dark. Kuniko was nowhere to be seen. The door to his parents’ room was closed tightly.
“Did Mom go to bed already?” Wataru asked, but there was no answer. For the first time, he noticed that his father had taken off his necktie, but he was still wearing his suit. “Did you get home late from work, Dad?”
There was nothing on the table. The dishes were all clean and stacked. Akira didn’t answer his question. Instead, he pulled out a cigarette from his breast pocket and lit it.
From behind him, Uncle Lou asked, “Where’s Kuniko?” His voice sounded harsh in Wataru’s ear.
“Asleep,” was Akira’s terse answer.
Something was wrong. Everything was wrong! They were acting like his mother was sick. They were acting like someone had died.
“Wataru,” Akira said suddenly. “Come over here and sit down.” He waved him over as he walked to the sofa. Stretching out a hand, he crushed his cigarette in an ashtray. It wasn’t something his father would normally do.
“Akira!” Satoru said, his tone sounding almost threatening. “Your son is home. How can you…”
“Quiet,” Akira said, coldly cutting him off.
“But…”
“It’s your fault for bringing him here, for making me do this.”
Wataru walked over to the sofa and sat. His knees knocked together. He had been so frightened just hours before, when the pack of screw-wolves attacked him in Vision. He was more frightened now.
Uncle Lou stood behind him quietly.
“I didn’t want to have to tell you like this,” Akira began. His voice was slightly trembling. “I would rather you heard it from your mother later. That’s why I wanted you to stay with your uncle for the night.”
“That’s not fair,” Uncle Lou said quickly. “He deserves an explanation.”
“And I didn’t think I could give it to him,” Akira said, lifting his eyes to look at his brother. A faint smile played on his lips. “That’s why I asked you.”
Uncle Lou was silent.
“Listen, Wataru,” Akira said, looking into his eyes. Wataru stared back at him. Deep inside, he could hear a part of him screaming in a tiny voice,
Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.
“I’m going away,” Akira Mitani said slowly.
Going away.
“Your mother and I are getting a divorce. You understand what that means?”
Getting a divorce.
“I know this is a horrible thing to do to you, and your mother. But I’ve made my decision. It took a long time, I thought very hard, but I’ve made up my mind, and I’m not changing it.”
A horrible thing.
“I told your mother tonight for the first time. We’ve been talking since then, but I think she was very surprised—it came as quite a shock to her.”
Wataru opened his mouth. The voice that came out was surprisingly weak, not steady and calm as he had intended it to be. “Is Mom asleep?”
“She was when I checked on her a while ago,” Akira replied. “I still have a lot of things I’ll need to discuss with her: the house, you and your mother’s livelihood…details, many things that need to be decided.”
Wataru blinked slowly. He blinked again, and again, but nothing was different. He couldn’t change the channel. This wasn’t some mistake, some gross misunderstanding. It wasn’t a dream. It was reality.
I’m not in Vision anymore.
Still, the sight of his father telling him he was leaving was somehow more unreal than the screw-wolves on the imaginary desert had been.
There were so many things he needed to ask, so many things he had the right to ask, he was sure—but Wataru hadn’t the slightest idea what they were. Like sand trickling through his fingers, the thoughts slid out of his mind before he could complete them. It was like a hole had been opened in the bottom of his heart and everything was draining out.
“Where will you go, Dad?” he managed to ask at last.
“I’ll tell you when I’m settled in. I’ll reach you by cell phone.”
Akira stood. Wataru looked up at him in a daze. Was that it? Was this the end?
Akira stooped and pulled something out from behind the sofa. It was his travel bag, the familiar one he always used for business trips. Wataru had never seen it stuffed so full. The seams were bulging.
“Akira…” Satoru said, his voice hoarse. “You don’t have anything else to say? Nothing else to say to your son? Is that all?”
When Akira responded, he was looking at his brother, not his son. “Anything I said to Wataru would only be an excuse.”
“Still…”
“You wouldn’t understand, Satoru.”
Uncle Lou’s face went pale. His lips were trembling. Akira lifted his travel bag. Wataru stared at it; he couldn’t think of anything else to do. His father’s hand clutching the bag. The light shining dully off his fingernails as he turned to walk toward the door.
“Take care of Wataru for me, Satoru,” Akira said, his voice no longer trembling.
“You can’t ask me to do that,” Uncle Lou said stubbornly. “You can’t just ask someone to take care of your life. I won’t do it for you, that’s for sure.”
Akira Mitani quietly looked back at his son. “Take care of your mother for me, Wataru.”
Then he walked, his slippers scuffing on the carpet.
Flip-flop, flip-flop.
Why am I not stopping him
? Wataru thought to himself.
Why am I not running after him, grabbing him, crying for him to stay?
Because,
Wataru realized,
it’s no use.
His father was not one to change his mind once it had been set. In the Mitani household, what his father said was law, writ in stone. His conclusions were decisions, and his decisions were final. No amount of weeping or pleading could hope to overturn them. That lesson had been imprinted on every cell of Wataru’s body. Being selfish would get him nowhere.
Selfish? Am I being selfish?
Wataru stood from the sofa and ran to the door. Akira was putting on his shoes. His back was turned.
“Dad.”
At the sound of Wataru’s voice, Akira stiffened.
“Are you leaving me and Mom?”
For a moment, Akira paused. His hand clutching the shoehorn looked white.