Grotesque (33 page)

But soon he was standing rigidly at attention. For a con artist my grandfather was timidly honest.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for my granddaughter… . Studying?

No chance of that. She ought to be, but she’s just sitting here watching TV… . What’s that? She stopped by your house, did she? Well, thank you for looking after her… . And she even made an international phone call? I had no idea… . No, she didn’t tell me. I’m very sorry for the inconvenience.”

Grandfather went way overboard. Chattering about stuff that was not his business and bowing in apology with the telephone in his hand. My mother was just like that—humbling herself unnecessarily. It gave me a chill just looking at him. Ever since he started his affair with Mitsuru’s mother, I’d begun to close my heart to my grandfather. Finally he handed the phone to me, his brow dotted with a nervous sweat.

“You shouldn’t have said I was watching TV! We’ve got finals next week, you know!” I said.

The call was from Kazue’s mother, Kazue’s fish-faced mother. I recalled Kazue’s dreary house and answered the phone with a curt greeting.

Kazue’s father’s muffled voice hit my ears. He must have been standing next to his wife, fidgeting with irritation. Excellent! So my scheme to 2 0 6

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ensnare that pathetic family was succeeding after all. I had a splendid chance to get my revenge for their being so horrible to me on the day my mother died. For using me as kttle more than a standin for Mitsuru. For coercing me to go home with Kazue. For the cost of the international phone call. I had my chance to trap them all.

“Has my daughter been acting strangely lately?” Kazue’s mother asked nervously.

“Well, that’s not easy for me to say—especially since I was told to have nothing to do with her. I really don’t know.”

“What’s this? I had no idea you’d been told such a thing.”

As Kazue’s mother’s voice grew more and more flustered, Kazue’s father grabbed the phone. In no mood to mess around, he spoke forcefully and with his usual arrogance. “Listen here. What I want to know is whether or not Kazue is still seeing that Takashi Kijima fellow. I thought I could get it out of her, but I ended up losing my temper. You’re just a second-year student in high school, I said. You’re too young; you’d better not be doing anything shameful. But she just started crying and I haven’t been able to get another word out of her. So I’m asking you. Is she involved in unseemly behavior?”

By the time he’d stopped talking I could sense the anger hovering around the edges of his words. I suspected that Kazue’s father was jealous of Takashi. No doubt he wanted to be the only man ever to influence her; he wanted to control her for as long as he lived. Images of Kazue as a dark demon began to loom up in my imagination at that moment, one after another.

“No. She’s not doing anything of the sort. All the other girls are writing love letters and knitting scarves and meeting boys at the school gate and such, but Kazue hasn’t done anything unseemly. I think you must be wrong.”

Her father’s suspicions were particularly sharp because he wasn’t willing to let it go.

“Well, then, who’d she make that ugly scarf for? No matter how many times I ask, she won’t tell me.”

“I heard she made it for herself.”

“Are you saying she would spend all that precious time knitting something like that just for herself?”

“Yes. Kazue is good at handicrafts.”

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N A T S U O K I R I NO

“And the letters that were sent back? Weren’t they love letters?”

“In social studies class we had a creative writing assignment. I think she wrote those for class.”

“I heard that this student Kijima is the son of one of the teachers there.”

“Yes, that’s right, so I guess she decided to use him as a fictional character.”

“Creative writing, huh?”

My convoluted explanation had done little so far to allay his doubts.

“A parent worries, you know. If she goes on like this, she’s not going to be in any shape for her final exams. She’s got her sights set on the university economics department; she can’t allow her grades to drop.”

“You don’t need to worry about Kazue. She always talks about how much she respects you, sir. She says she wants to be just like her father, and he graduated from Tokyo University. Kazue s really popular with the other students too.”

Kazue s father seemed to appreciate my words.

“Good, good. That’s what I always tell her. I tell her that once she gets into college she can date all the boys she wants. If she’s a Q University student, she’ll have her pick of anyone.”

Hmm. I wonder. I could just picture Kazue at university. Unattractive, uncoordinated Kazue? I almost burst out laughing. Why, I wondered, did this clan who trusted “hard work” always defer their own pleasure, their own happiness, to some vague point in the future? It would be too late, wouldn’t it? And why did they always believe so easily everything others told them?

“Well, you’ve certainly reassured me. Good luck with your exams.

Please feel free to stop by and see Kazue at any time.”

My, my, what an about-face that was! Is this really the same man who told me to have nothing more to do with his daughter? Kazue’s father hung up the phone. My grandfather, who’d been eavesdropping on the conversation all the while, spoke with bright conceit.

“How about that! I’m not as timid as I used to be. I wasn’t one bit nervous about talking to that Q School parent!”

I ignored him and went back to watching my TV show. I’d already missed the best part. I was spreading the evening paper out in front of me in irritation when the phone rang again. Once again Grandfather ran 2 0 8

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to get it. This time he called out cheerfully, “Yuriko-chan? What a nice surprise. How’ve you been?”

Grandfather looked like he wanted to chat for a bit, but I grabbed the phone from his hand. “What the hell do you want? Spit it out!”

Yuriko laughed brightly in response to my brusque command.

“I see you’re still as grumpy as ever. And here I was calling you politely to tell you something. And I wanted to ask why you called out to Takashi today. You startled me.”

“First say what you called to tell me.”

“It’s about Takashi. I know you probably like him, so I’m just calling to tell you not to get your hopes up.”

“Why? Is he in love with you?”

“With me? No. I think he’s probably gay.”

“Gay?” Now I was startled. “Why do you think that?”

“Because he doesn’t have the slightest bit of interest in me, that’s why.

Nice talking to you!”

How conceited can you get! She really got under my skin. I was furious on the one hand; on the other, things began to make more sense. “So that’s it?” I mumbled to myself. Grandfather turned to look at me and then said somewhat reluctantly, “You know, you don’t need to be so rude to your sister. She’s the only sister you’ve got.”

“Yuriko’s not my sister!”

Grandfather was getting ready to reply, but when he saw how livid I was he thought better of it.

“You’re so angry these days, even with me. Has something happened?”

“Why should something have happened? It’s because of you, you know. Running around with Mitsuru s mother like that, it’s disgusting.

Immoral. The other day Mitsuru s mother made some stupid suggestion about how all four of us should go out for dinner: you, me, Mitsuru, and her mother. And now I’m not getting on with Mitsuru anymore either because of it. Ever since Yuriko came back, everybody’s turned into a sex maniac. It’s just disgusting.”

Grandfather cringed and seemed ready to shrink into the floor. He turned to look at the bonsai that were lined up in a corner of the room.

Now there were only three: the black pine, an oak, and a maple. It was just a matter of time before he sold those as well, and that also pissed me off.

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N A T S U O K I R I NO

The phone rang a third time. Grandfather moved listlessly toward the telephone but this time I answered first and heard a woman’s hoarse voice calling my grandfather’s first name.

“Yasuji?”

It was Mitsuru’s mother. When she had spoken to me, that time in the car, her voice had been as raspy as her mannerisms were coarse. But when she called out my grandfather’s name, she sounded so sweet you’d think she was the Virgin Mary. I thrust the receiver at my grandfather without saying anything. He snatched the phone from my hand, blushing redder and redder under my gaze, and spoke with a touch of formality.

“It’s really pretty there when the plums are in bloom, isn’t it.” It sounded like they were planning a trip, maybe to a hot spring. I sat down by the kotatsu table, stretched my legs out under heated quilts, and lay faceup on the floor pillows, watching Grandfather out of the corner of my eye.

He knew I was watching him, so he pretended to be nonchalant but his voice betrayed his excitement.

“No, no, I wasn’t sleeping yet. I’m a night owl, you know. What were you doing?”

Listening to their conversation, I could imagine the sludgy juices rising higher and higher in their bodies until they threatened to overflow.

My grandfather’s profile exuded joy, a joy that is unattainable if one tries to attain it. Does such a joy really exist? I’ve never experienced a feeling like that and I never want to. Whenever someone is on the verge of such joy, they always run away from me. Am I lonely? Don’t be ridiculous. I had considered my grandfather an ally until he started mooning around.

It was a betrayal. That’s the way I felt. If someone finds it lonely to be abandoned, they should behave so others don’t abandon them. But if they want to be left alone, they ought to induce disagreeable people to abandon them. I didn’t want Grandfather or Mitsuru to leave me, but I wanted to get Mitsuru’s mother and Yuriko as far away from me as possible.

To which group should I assign Kazue? She was an idiot who doted on her father like a little girl and who believed in the miracle motto, Try your best. I didn’t have much use for a stupid girl like that, other than to keep her nearby to control.

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G R O T E S Q U E

Next morning, that idiot Kazue came over to thank me.

“I’m really grateful to you for not telling my father about me last night. My father was furious and I was terrified, but you denied it all and really bailed me out.”

“So did your father forgive you?”

“Yes. Everything’s okay now.”

It would take time before Kazue could escape the spell her father had cast over her. Perhaps a lifetime. An interesting idea. I would create an opening for Kazue’s escape, which I would then take delight in personally destroying. Yes. When I saw Kazue I felt like a god, manipulating that dunce like a puppet on a string.

You think Kazue started behaving strangely because I bullied her? No, that’s not the case. I’ve said it any number of times before: Kazue was just too naive, too pure. It’s not just that she didn’t see the world around her. She couldn’t even see herself. I’d like the following to stay just between us: Kazue had a secret confidence in her own looks. I came across her countless times staring at herself in the mirror. She would smile at herself, and her face would take on a look of ecstasy. She was vain.

Both Kazue and her father could not accept the fact that there could possibly be anyone else with more intellectual ability than they had. And Kazue would never accept the fact that a woman with equal ability would always be more successful if she was beautiful. Put another way, could there have been anyone happier than Kazue?

In contrast to Mitsuru and me—who knew to polish our natural gifts in order to survive—Kazue was overly ignorant of her own self. A woman who does not know herself has no choice other than to live with other people’s evaluations. But no one can adapt perfectly to public opinion.

And herein lies the source of their destruction.

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F I V E • MY C R I M E S : Z H A N G ‘ S W R I T T E N REPORT

• 1 •

JUDGE: Please verify that your name is Zhang Zhezhong, a native of Dayi City, Baoxing County, in Sichuan Province of the People s Republic of China, born February 10, 1966.

DEFENDANT: Yes, that is true.

JUDGE: You presently reside at apartment 404 of the Matoya Building, 4-5 Maruyama-cho, Shibuya Ward, in the city of Tokyo; and you are employed by Dreamer. Is that correct?

DEFENDANT: That is correct.

JUDGE: You’ve stated that you do not need an interpreter. Are you certain?

DEFENDANT: Yes. My Japanese is good. I’m certain.

JUDGE: Very well. Will the attorney for the prosecution read aloud the indictment?

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INDICTMENT

G R O T E S Q U E

On this day of November 1, the twelfth year of Heisei (2000), the District Attorney for the city of Tokyo, as herein represented by D.A. Noro Yoshiaki, indicts Zhang Zhezhong, a citizen of the People s Republic of China, born February 10, 1966, currently a hotel employee and residing at Matoya Building #404, 4-5 Maruyama-cho, Shibuya-ku, Tokyo, before the Tokyo District Court on the following charges: COUNT NO. 1

While the defendant was an employee at the Shangri-la, a Chinese restaurant in Kabuki-cho, Shinjuku-ku, he went to unit number 205 of Hope Heights apartments, 5-12 Okubo, Shinjuku-ku, on June 5, 1999, and at approximately 3 a.m. used both hands to strangle Yuriko Hirata (then 37), thus causing her death by asphyxiation. Thereafter the defendant removed from the purse of the afore-named victim ¥20,000 and took an 18-carat gold necklace (valued at the time at ¥70,000) from her person.

COUNT NO. 2

The same defendant went to unit number 103 of Green Villa Apartments, 4-5 Maruyama-cho, Shibuya-ku, on April 9, 2000, and at approximately midnight strangled with both hands Kazue Sato (then 39), thus causing her death by asphyxiation. Subsequently he removed ¥40,000

from the victim s purse.

CHARGES AND PENALTIES

Count No. 1: The defendant is charged with burglary and murder in accordance with Article 240, Part Two, of the Penal Code.

Count No. 2: The defendant is charged with burglary and murder in accordance with Article 240, Part Two, of the Penal Code.