by Otsuichi
The figure of his running sister rose up in the light, then promptly disappeared into the rice.
“Yayoi!” Ken screamed, sprinting to where she had vanished.
Yayoi had tripped and collapsed on the ground and now lay on a pile of rice plants she had knocked down. She was crying. Her fall had broken the last thread of resolve she had left. When Ken reached her, she clung to him fiercely, sobbing.
“There, there,” Ken said, comforting her. “You did good.” He pointed at the object that she had tripped on—me.
My body had twisted from the impact of her foot—not that I could offer any protest. My toes and my hair poked out from the ends of the rush mat that wrapped around me like seaweed around a piece of sushi.
“Come on, Yayoi, let’s get Satsuki to the shrine. We can’t leave her here—there might be people coming to check on the water in the fields.”
Ken lifted me from the ground. Yayoi wiped the tears from her eyes and took my feet.
As I was picked up, droplets of water dripped off my back. The water had spread through most of the field, and as they walked I weighed them down and their feet sank into the mud. To the two children, it felt like hands were reaching up and grabbing their feet to prevent their escape.
Water poured into the field (now properly a paddy) and filled it completely, but the children were just paces from the road, and soon they stumbled out, almost collapsing onto the gravel. They were caked with mud and looked as if they had spent the whole day doing farm work in the field.
But the two didn’t stop moving, and at last they made it to the concrete wall that ran along the shrine grounds. Since the stone foundation was far from the shrine’s entrance, they decided to climb over the wall at the rear of the grounds.
Not only could they now clearly hear the sounds of the fireworks coming over the wall, they also saw the smoke and even heard the voices of the villagers who had come to watch. Hearing them made Yayoi more nervous. The more people there were, the greater the chance that they would be seen.
“All right, Yayoi,” Ken said. “Once we climb over this wall, we’ll be inside the shrine grounds. We’ll have to run to the foundation. We have to be careful not to draw the attention of anyone who’s come to see the fireworks.”
Yayoi listened intently to her brother’s reminder and cautiously nodded.
Ken turned to face the concrete wall. It was just a little taller than his head, but tall enough that Yayoi wouldn’t be able to reach the top.
“I’ll have to lift you over the wall,” Ken said, just loud enough for his sister to hear. “So you’ll be going in first. I’ll throw Satsuki over next, and then I’ll be last in.”
Yayoi meekly nodded again.
“Okay. Think of this as a raid. We have to move fast, and the hardest part will be making sure we’re not seen. And when you drop down from the wall, be careful not to twist your ankle.”
He lifted her up the wall.
The fireworks show was about half over. The fireworks were more elaborate than the cheaper handheld Roman candles and fountains, and some were even rockets that launched up into the sky (although still only of the size a child could buy). The children were there to provide entertainment for the people who came to worship in the shrine, and they even handed out smaller fireworks to the younger children who came with their parents. It was our village’s tradition, and it kept worship of the shrine’s gods alive in the hearts of our people.
Yayoi jumped down the other side of the wall, where the pungent smell of gunpowder assaulted her.
But that shock was trifling compared to what she saw. Just paces away from where she landed stood a large group of people. No, not a group—a crowd. The crowd faced the center of the shrine, where the fireworks were being set off, their backs to Yayoi. But any of them could turn around at any moment. And if they did, and they saw my corpse, what could she do?
Fighting the terror welling up in her chest, she turned to the wall and raised up on her shaking toes to tell Ken on the other side. She tried to cry out to him. Don’t come over. There are people here. Don’t throw Satsuki over.
But the words never tumbled from between her trembling lips, because when she turned it was me that came tumbling down.
As I flopped to the ground, pink and green light spilled between the people watching the fireworks, splashing vivid colors across Yayoi’s back and the rush mat that covered my body.
“Brother!” she said in a harsh whisper, but neither the crowd of people nor Ken heard.
But they might have heard the sound of my body thudding on the gravel. With tears in her eyes and despair and terror on her face, Yayoi looked up at Ken as he leapt down from the wall.
He landed next to me, saw the crowd of people, and raised his eyebrows a fraction of an inch.
“Yayoi, don’t cry,” he comforted her, thinking they had to get moving before anyone noticed them. But someone already had.
“If it isn’t Ken and Yayoi,” a woman in the crowd said, looking right at them. Yayoi stiffened, clutching at her brother’s arm.
The woman was backlit by the fireworks, and they couldn’t see her face in the darkness, but the two children immediately recognized her voice. Squinting at her, they could see a tinge of sadness in her expression.
“Hello, ma’am,” Ken greeted my mother. His voice had sympathy in it, but I knew it was an act. Ken hadn’t given up yet. “Where’s Satsuki?” he asked. “Isn’t she coming to see the fireworks? Hasn’t anyone found her yet?”
She shook her head mournfully. She looked like she would lose her composure and break down at any moment. She had come to the fireworks festival to relive the memory of her only daughter. The memories were all she had left.
My mother and I came to the fireworks show every summer. I’d watch the show with Ken and Yayoi, and we’d even set off some of our own. Even now, the memories were too much for me.
And there I was, with Ken and Yayoi at the fireworks again.
Ken spoke hesitantly, choosing his words carefully. “I . . . hope you find her soon.”
My disappearance hadn’t been on the news yet. The police, having been unable to find me anywhere, had just begun to treat my case as a kidnapping. The next day, the media would be all over the town.
“Thank you, Ken,” my mother said. “You know, when I watch these fireworks, I can’t help but think of her. It feels like she’s right here next to me.”
Yayoi tightened her grip on Ken’s arm. She started to tremble. I was lying on the ground right behind her. Even with the faint light of the fireworks, it must have still been too dark for her to notice me. But Yayoi was becoming so nervous that she couldn’t think straight. How much longer until my mother saw me?
“You’ll find her, I’m sure of it,” Ken said with an innocent smile. “So cheer up.” It was a perfect smile, and for a minute I thought it would be enough to convince my mother that she would find me, or that maybe I’d walk right through the front door the next day.
She looked at Ken for a moment, with no words left to say, only tears spilling out the corners of her eyes. No one else in the crowd seemed to have noticed us. They were watching the fireworks bursting above the shrine, oohing and ahhing in appreciation.
“Thank you . . .” my mother managed, bathed in the colored light. Her eyes shone with gratitude. “Thank you, Ken.”
Yayoi looked like she was about to cry too. Was she remembering all the times we played together, all the summers we came to the shrine to watch the fireworks? Had she realized the vastness of her sin?
Ken was only waiting for a chance to break away and deliver me to the stone foundation.
“There, there,” he tried. “Don’t cry. Crying won’t bring her back. Hey, look, they’re about to start the finale.”
Ken pointed over to where the fireworks were being lit. One of the older boys from the village was setting a large tube down upon the ground. It had cost a few hundred yen—fairly pricey compared to the rest. The crowd’
s attention was focused on it as they waited expectantly.
“You’re right,” she said, looking over at the center of the shrine. “I shouldn’t be crying.”
The village boy stood a few steps away from the firework tube, and slowly, carefully, stretched out his arm to light the fuse.
That was the chance Ken was waiting for.
Without missing a beat, he shook his arm free from his sister’s grip and lifted my head from the ground. He whispered at Yayoi to lift up my feet. They stood at each end, blocking my hair and my toes from view.
“Well, we’d better get going,” Ken said to my mother. If he had left without saying anything, it would have been suspicious. Yayoi was completely focused on hiding my toes.
“All right. Thank you, Ken.” She turned to look at them and showed a little surprise at seeing the oddly shaped rush mat tube in their hands. “By the way, what are you two carrying?”
Since the children were standing at each end, she could only see the ambiguously lumpy midsection. She couldn’t have known that I was inside.
Ken’s reply was quick. “Fireworks. The older boys sent us to get them.”
My mother either believed the lie or was not interested enough to press it.
“Well,” Ken said, “goodbye. Don’t give up hope. Yayoi, let’s go.”
They started walking toward the old foundation, careful not to let any part of my body show out the ends. Yayoi walked stiffly as she tried to fight off panic.
It was a losing battle. Soon her grip loosened, and I tumbled out of her hands.
Ken was still holding my head, and I arced downward. My feet slammed against the ground and I slipped further out of the matting. Now not only were my toes showing, but my feet—all the way up to the ankles—as well.
Yayoi gasped and Ken turned back to face her.
“Quickly, hide it, Yayoi!”
They might not have been seen yet. By the time her brother had given the instruction, Yayoi had already begun to hurriedly stuff my feet back into the matting. Tears welled up in her eyes.
Ken looked back at my mother. She was walking toward them and called out, “Hey, Ken!”
Had she seen? The two children tensed and looked at her like two defendants awaiting a death sentence.
“Hey, Ken,” she repeated. “Satsuki liked you. Did you know that?”
Relief filled Yayoi’s face. My mother hadn’t seen me. She had still been watching the fireworks.
Ken’s expression softened a little. “Yeah, I knew.”
My mother sobbed a few more times and said goodbye. Ken and Yayoi resumed their walk to the old foundation even more cautiously than before.
All Ken had to do was get my body to the top of the stone foundation and toss it down the hole, and the game would be won. He could see victory right in front of him.
The fireworks show was nearing its climax, with the majority of the fireworks now the more expensive kind. The boys, not eager to be so quickly parted from their haul, tended to save the most expensive ones for the end.
A particularly large tube of fireworks ignited, and a fountain of grain-sized spots of light burst forth. The shrine grounds, from the stone foundation to the wooden shrine itself, were illuminated by the dreamlike light, glittering in brilliant silver and gold. Many of the spectators would doubtlessly remember it for the rest of their lives. With time, the memory would only grow brighter, forever radiant.
Finally, Ken and Yayoi stood at the base of the stone foundation. Had it not been for my mother’s interruptions, they would have reached their destination sooner.
Looking up from the base of the structure, it seemed to tower high enough to touch the stars above. Clearly, they weren’t going to be able to just carry me to the top.
They were out of the view of the spectators, and out of the reach of the light. But there was still a chance that someone would happen by.
They set my body down on the ground, and Yayoi asked her brother in a wavering voice, “What do we do now, Brother?”
“I need you to listen carefully. We’re going to lift her to the top of the foundation. There’s a few things we need to do and I’ll explain them in order.”
Yayoi nodded, and Ken went over the plan in simple terms.
From his backpack, he removed the string they had spent the afternoon tying together and passed it under the cord that was holding the rush mat closed around me. Ken would climb up to the top of the foundation holding both ends of the string in his hands. Then, using the string, he’d lift up my body, which would still be resting on the ground.
“Okay, I’m going to climb up there now. You stay down here and keep lookout.”
Ken slung his backpack over his shoulder and found a foothold in the dry stone wall. Holding the string in his hands, he adeptly worked his way up the side of the foundation. Any of the boys in the village would have no trouble climbing it—it was their secret hideout, after all.
The rocks that formed the wall were just larger than a human head and were stacked about as high as the roof of the shrine’s storeroom. Patches of moss grew on the surface of the old stones. Below, Yayoi paced as she watched her brother climb. Her attention was focused above her, and she stumbled on a tree root that protruded across her path. She regained her balance and chastised herself for forgetting her brother’s instructions to stand watch.
The rear of the old foundation, out of the reach of the fireworks’ light, was enshrouded in foreboding gloom.
Ken reached the top of the wall and raised himself up to the stone platform. The foundation was deserted, its rocks cold to the touch. He could see across the entire grounds. The fireworks sparkled brilliantly above.
Ken tugged at the string in his hands, making sure it was still secure around me. He set down his backpack, and from inside it he removed two objects.
The first was one of the U-shaped iron gateball gates, and the second an unused pulley made for the storehouse door. He must have sneaked them out of the storehouse before saying goodbye to the old men.
Ken placed one side of the gate’s U through the hole in the side of the pulley, and hung the other side over a thick branch of the tree that protruded over the top of the foundation.
He threaded the string over the top of the pulley’s wheel. The plan was to hold the end of the string and jump down from the top of the foundation wall. He’d slide down, and I’d be pulled up.
And then I’d be tossed down that hole, and that would be that.
Below, Yayoi watched my mother intently, worried that their crimes would be revealed if she came back and noticed me.
Just as Ken had finished his preparations and was ready to jump down, a voice called out from behind Yayoi’s back.
“Oh, if it isn’t the Tachibana kids. What are you two doing over here?”
Yayoi spun to face the voice. Ken had heard it too.
Old Man Thunder and Mr. Kobayashi were passing by, looking up at Ken with puzzled expressions. If they had been looking down and not up, they would have already seen me wrapped in the rush mat.
After a moment, Ken found his voice. “Good evening.”
He was holding the string in his hands, still poised to leap. He looked completely ridiculous.
But the old men kept walking past. It wasn’t that unusual to see kids playing on the old foundation, and it wasn’t like they had anything in particular to talk about anyway. Yayoi silently prayed that nothing would happen.
“Careful up there, Ken,” Old Man Thunder said. “Some kid got hurt up there just this year, you know.”
They kept walking toward the crowd and the fireworks.
Yayoi’s heart cheered.
And that was when it happened.
“Oof! What’s this now?”
Kobayashi tripped over my body and stumbled.
Yayoi’s body went stiff, a shriek escaping through her mouth but not finding voice.
Ken watched from above.
Kobayashi eyed the object that had trippe
d him. “What on earth is this? And what’s it doing here of all places?”
There was little light behind the foundation, and I lay half in shadow. He couldn’t quite make out what I was. But it was only a matter of time—moments, even—until he would.
Yayoi wanted to run. She wanted to run more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. But without Ken, where could she run? And who could she run to, if not Ken?
Mr. Kobayashi started feeling out with his hands.
“Hm? Is this . . . rush matting?”
Just a few more seconds and he’d surely see my body poking out from the end of the mat.
Yayoi shook uncontrollably, about to collapse into tears.
But Ken called down from the foundation.
“Hey, you two guys had better hurry. They’re about to light the fireworks waterfall!”
“Really?” Kobayashi withdrew his arm. “Tanaka, let’s go. The kids put in a lot of work for that one.”
The two old men looked over at the fireworks.
Ken moved quickly. The instant they turned their gaze over to the show, he leapt down from the foundation with the string wrapped around his hands. Pulled by his weight, I rose silently up into the air. The thin string strained, threatening to snap at any moment. The gate, balanced precariously over the tree branch, was barely able to stay in place under the weight of two children.
The pulley jolted with the passing of each knot in the string, jiggling the tree limb and shaking loose its green summer leaves one by one.
“Well, we’ll be off, then,” said Old Man Thunder. “Careful not to hurt yourself, Ken.”
When the two men turned back to say their goodbyes, Ken had already landed on the ground, still holding the string in his hands, pulling on it to keep me from lowering.
“When did you get down here?” Mr. Kobayashi asked, tilting his head to the side. “And where did that bundle of rush matting go to? Someone could trip on that and hurt themselves, you know.”
Yayoi watched the exchange unable even to breathe.
Ken answered, “Don’t worry, I’ll find it. And when I do, I’ll take care of it.” His words sounded like a bad joke. I remembered that he had made a similar joke when Midori had almost discovered me. I would have laughed were I able.
