Ju-On

by Kei Oishi

  “You don’t look good. What’s wrong?” Kobayashi asked again, but Toshio kept staring at the wall.

  Kobayashi sat on the sofa opposite Toshio and, not expecting any answer, asked, “Where’s your mother? Out shopping?”

  Toshio, who had been silent up to that point, opened his mouth and uttered a single word.

  “Together.”

  “Huh? Together,” Kobayashi repeated. “Do you mean that she and your father stepped out together?”

  But Toshio did not say anything.

  Kobayashi sighed.

  The house was quiet. The neighborhood did not seem like it was very quiet, so it must have been the density of the house. Hardly any sounds from outside were heard in here, and the silence in the room accumulated like cold air, settling like the bottom of a body of water. No, it was not just the silence. In the messy living room, Kobayashi felt something else, something the likes of which he had never felt before. A very deep sense of foreboding was also accumulating in the house.

  “Oh, yes,” Kobayashi said, unable to stand the silence anymore.

  “Remember the picture you drew the other day?” he asked, taking out a large envelope from his bag. On the envelope was written, “Mom and Dad 1-2.” From the envelope, he took out a single piece of drawing paper and placed it on the coffee table.

  It was the picture that Toshio had drawn in art class last week. On the paper, drawn in black crayon, was an image of the stocky man who was his father, and the longhaired woman who was his mother. Looking at the picture spread out on the table, Kobayashi found himself remembering his classmate, Kayako Kawamata.

  Yes, Kayako Kawamata, much like the woman in Toshio’s picture, had long hair, was thin, and a bit on the dark side …

  “It’s very good. All the other teachers said so,” Kobayashi said. Toshio’s face, which had hitherto been emotionless, broke into a slight smile.

  The picture was very good, for being drawn by a first grader. But, because it was drawn mainly in black, it was also a bit creepy.

  “By the way, Toshio-kun, what were you doing in the bathroom?”

  Kobayashi, encouraged by Toshio’s smile, started asking questions again. But, as soon as he asked, Toshio’s smile disappeared as if it had only been a mirage, and he looked down. Like a defeated boxer sitting in his corner after a fight, his arms hung lifelessly by his sides, Toshio fell silent again.

  “Toshio-kun … Toshio-kun …”

  Still facing down, the boy did not move a muscle.

  Kobayashi let out another long sigh. He was planning on watching the soccer game on TV tonight, but at this rate he would miss the beginning of the match. He stood up slowly and moved over to the window, looking out the curtain at the trees around the Saeki home. At that moment, from somewhere in the room, a cat uttered a long cry.

  Meeeoooowwwl

  No. It was not a cat. That cry came from the mouth of the boy who sat on the sofa behind Kobayashi, staring downward. Kobayashi,

  who was looking out the window, did not know this. He did not know, either, of the longhaired woman who was standing on the second floor veranda, or of the terrible horror about to descend upon his very person.

  Takeo

  Takeo Saeki was slumped on a bench in a park near his home. Young boys about the same age as his son were playing on the slides, swings, and monkey bars, screaming merrily. Young mothers were gathered near the sandbox where their children were playing, engrossed in their gossip. Nearby, elderly people were playing gate ball.

  Takeo looked lifelessly at them all.

  Takeo had no real recollection of what he had been doing for the past several days. Of course he didn’t go to the office. His phone rang several times, but he never answered. He merely wandered aimlessly about his house, with his dead wife in the attic. He couldn’t stand it. He kicked the walls. He punched the pillars. He threw furniture and appliances out into the garden. He pulled dishes out of the cupboard and smashed them. He slammed the contents of the refrigerator all over the floor. He was angry, very angry.

  Although it was done in a fit of emotion, he still did not regret killing Kayako. She deserved what she got, for what she did to him. No, she deserved much, much more.

  He had cut Kayako dozens o{ times with that box cutter until she bled from her entire body, he punched and kicked her, and she died only after hours of pain and suffering. But he was still not satisfied. He wanted to continue her suffering for days and days. He should have tortured, tortured, tortured, tortured her, and then killed her.

  His son Toshio must have still been hiding in the attic. He knew this because the tape he used to seal the sliding doors to the closet showed no sign of being torn off. He had heard no sounds from above since that day, so he figured that Toshio may have starved to death by now. Or, maybe he died from the shock of knowing his mother was murdered.

  Either way, he didn’t care what happened to Toshio. After all, Toshio wasn’t his son.

  An old person walking a large dog passed right in front of Takeo. Takeo blew out a large sigh and looked up at the sky. The long afternoon finally ended, and the western sky was painted red. A flock of birds circled lazily under the clouds as they headed back to their nests for the night.

  His life was over. His future as an illustrator, living happily with his family, seeing the face of his second child, his plans to take his family to see his parents at their home in Niigata for summer vacation, the trip to a tropical island overseas they were planning for the New Year holiday … everything was over. They disappeared to a place beyond his reach, and nothing he ever did could bring his life back.

  “Damn it… damn it… “

  Takeo ground his teeth. A young mother with her child looked at him suspiciously.

  “What are you staring at, bitch?” Takeo shouted at her, and she gave a small cry and hurried along her way.

  All this was Kayako’s fault. No, Kayako and that teacher Kobayashi. It was all their fault.

  Yes, Kobayashi.

  He had already punished Kayako. Next…

  Yes, he had to punish Kobayashi in the same way. No, he had to make Kobayashi—the man who had a secret relationship with

  Kayako, the man whose child Kayako bore, the man who made Takeo raise his son, the man who was his son’s teacher at school— he had to make Kobayashi suffer even more pain and sorrow than Kayako did.

  “I’ll get my revenge … I’ll fuck you up …,” Takeo muttered quietly as he clenched his fists tightly and stood up from the bench. His jowls shook with his renewed anger.

  Manami

  Darkness was falling over the city.

  Manami sat back on her chair, quietly caressing her pregnant belly as she pushed the speed dial of the house phone.

  Rrriinngg . . . Rrriinngg … Rrriinngg . . .

  The phone rang, and she recalled fondly that her husband’s ring tone on his cell phone was the tune to “Last Christmas.”

  Her daughter seemed to be awake, as she was moving around and kicking restlessly inside Manami’s belly.

  They had already decided to name their daughter Anju. They only had a month to wait to meet Anju in person. She smiled at the very thought.

  Rrriinngg … Rrriinngg … “Hello, Manami?”

  She heard her husband’s voice on the other end of the phone line.

  “Shunsuke, where are you?”

  “I’m still here at the student’s house.” Shunsuke sounded annoyed at his situation.

  “Still? What time will you be home?”

  “Urn, it looks like I’ll be a little longer.”

  “Longer? What time? You’ll miss the opening kickoff of the soccer game.”

  “I know. But his parents still haven’t come home yet.”

  Manami could almost see his facial expression as he said this.

  “Really? How’s the boy?”

  “The boy? He’s asleep.”

  “Asleep? Oh boy. Why don’t you just come home and go again tomorrow?”

 
; “I want to, but—”

  “Ah.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, Anju’s just moving around. She wants daddy to come home soon.”

  Just then she heard the front door open.

  “Is someone there?” she called out.

  “Who is it?”

  “I think it’s just Mrs. Fujino. She promised to loan me her copy of the Godfather III video.”

  “Oh. Well, I’ll call you later.”

  “Okay. Please do.”

  She hung up and looked toward the entrance. “Who’s there? Fujino-san?” Gently stroking her belly, she stood up with a grunt oi effort and headed through the kitchen toward the door.

  A man she’d never seen before stood in the entrance, the entrance she never locked.

  “Urn, may I help you?”

  “Kobayashi-san? Manami-san, right?” the man’s voice was terribly low, scratchy, and hard to hear. “Is Shunsuke home?”

  “He’s out right now. Um, may I ask who you are?”

  “My name is Saeki.”

  “Saeki^san … ?”

  “Yes, don’t you know? Takeo Saeki.”

  Saying this, he shut the door behind him, locked the door, and drew the door chain. He walked further into the house, not even taking off his shoes.

  “What do you want? Don’t come in here,” Manami said, instinctively backing away. “I’ll call the police!”

  When she saw what the man took out of his bag, Manami screamed. In his rough-looking hands was a sharp kitchen knife with a long blade.

  “Oh, Manami-san, you’re pregnant,” he said as he stared at her big belly with his bloodshot eyes. His oily face distorted horribly as he smiled.

  At the moment she died, Manami felt her stomach being torn open. And she thought she heard her daughter—the daughter she was going to name Anju—cry feebly.

  But Manami never saw her daughter. Just then total darkness fell over her. She could no longer see anything, nor hear anything.

  Kobayashi

  After finishing his conversation with Manami, Kobayashi returned his phone to the chest pocket of his shirt. The darkness of the evening was already filling the unlit room. Toshio Saeki, who had been staring silently down, was now asleep on the sofa.

  “Damn,” muttered Kobayashi to no one in particular as he looked around the darkening room. Looking down to his feet, he saw what appeared to be a crumpled photograph. He picked it up and smoothed it out on the table.

  Three people, Toshio and two adults, who appeared to be his parents, were in the picture. Toshio, holding a black cat in his arms, was in

  the center. On the left stood a balding, strongly built man, and on the right stood a longhaired, dainty-looking woman. The photo looked liked it was taken in early spring. Behind them, light-pink cherry blossoms danced in the air like snowflakes.

  Toshio, in the middle, was smiling that same smile Kobayashi knew so well. His father and mother were smiling kindly. His mother was the same woman who had called out to him on that first day of school, he was sure of it. Then this woman was …

  Kayako Kawamata.

  He tried once more to remember this woman, who was in the same class as he in college.

  Kayako Kawamata . . . Kayako Kawamata … Kayako Kawamata …

  No matter how hard he tried to recall, his memory was still very foggy. Although he remembered most of his other classmates and had fond recollections of them, he remembered absolutely nothing about Kayako Kawamata.

  “Kayako Kawamata … as long as I’m here, I’d like to meet and talk with her.”

  As Kobayashi muttered to himself, that cat cried again from somewhere in the house.

  Meeoowl

  Kobayashi stood up, feeling a bit unnerved. Leaving the boy sleeping on the sofa, he quietly slipped into the hallway and began walking around the otherwise-empty house.

  Meeoowl

  He could still hear the cat. He wondered where it was.

  The cupboard in the kitchen was tipped over; all of the dishes, glasses, and bowls were scattered and broken on the floor. The paper-and-wood sliding door was full of holes as if someone had

  repeatedly punched it. The walls showed signs of having been kicked by someone wearing shoes. The meat, fish, and raw eggs that he guessed had been in the refrigerator were smashed all over the floor. They were starting to smell as only half-rotten food can. This definitely was not normal.

  What happened here? Did Toshio’s parents really just step out?

  Shrugging in confusion, he returned to the living room.

  He saw then that the boy who had been fast asleep on the sofa was gone.

  “Toshio-kun … Toshio-kun …”

  Calling out the boy’s name, Kobayashi looked around.

  “Toshio-kun … Toshio-kun …”

  The kitchen, the guest room, the small room that housed the family’s Buddhist altar, the toilet, the bath, Kobayashi checked every room on the first floor but did not find Toshio.

  “Toshio-kun … Toshio-kun …”

  As he headed up the stairs, he clearly heard a child’s voice coming from the second floor. And, more faintly, he also heard a woman’s voice. Holding his breath, he snuck up the stairs. The voices were coming from beyond the door just at the top of the stairs.

  “… Mommy, where were you? Kobayashi Sensei is here … Are my pictures good? Kobayashi Sensei said they are … Kobayashi Sensei said he wants to see you, Mommy … It’s all right, Daddy’s not here right now. Really. You can come out now … Daddy killed my Mar. He cut Mar on the back with a box cutter and killed him . . Daddy really doesn’t like me … Mommy is Kobayashi Sensei my real father … ?”

  By listening carefully, he could make out what the child was saying, but the woman’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, and he had no

  idea what she was saying. But he was sure there was a woman in that room.

  “Toshio~kun,” Kobayashi called out from in front of the door. “Toshio-kun … Toshio-kun, I’m coming in,” he said as he opened the door.

  The room was apparently Toshio’s bedroom. There were pictures of cats drawn in black crayon hung all over the walls, and many, many more littered the floor. But… the only person in the room was Toshio. He was sure he’d heard a woman’s whispery voice from the room, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  “Toshio-kun,” Kobayashi called out to the boy.

  But Toshio went on drawing his picture with his black crayon on the paper spread out on the floor, as if he hadn’t noticed Kobayashi. As expected, he was drawing cats, many cat faces all in a row.

  “Toshio-kun … Weren’t you speaking to someone just now?” Kobayashi asked, but Toshio was engrossed in his picture and didn’t lift his face to acknowledge his teacher.

  Kobayashi shrugged and looked around the room, which was filled with pictures of cats: a cat’s head growing out of a flower pot, cats coming out of cracks in the ceiling and walls as if their bodies were made of smoke, cat eyes shining in the pitch black, cats with faces so distorted they looked like they belonged in a painting by Edvard Munch. The pictures were so surreal, so powerful, so creepy that they seemed like an innocent child couldn’t have drawn them.

  “Your mom and dad sure are late getting back, huh?” Kobayashi kept talking to the boy drawing his pictures on the floor. “I really wanted to see your mother today.”

  Suddenly, Toshio, who had been facing down, looked up to the ceiling. Right then, a woman’s voice called out.

 

  It was a quiet, weak-sounding voice. But it was no hallucination.

 

  Yes, he heard it clearly. Where? Where did that voice come from?

  Kobayashi left the boy’s room. Once in the hallway he looked around. Just then, the door behind him slowly creaked open.

  Kobayashi entered the room, almost as if an irresistible force pulled him.

  This room was apparently the bedroom of the Saekis. Beige curtains adorned
the windows, and a large double bed was in the middle of the room. On the wooden floor, he noticed pieces o{ rope and a box cutter. He also noticed black stains as if someone had spilled soy sauce or Worcestershire sauce in the room. But no one was to be found.

  Kobayashi flipped the switch on the wall, but the lights didn’t come on.

  Kobayashi crept into the room. It was his first time walking into another person’s bedroom, and an image of his old classmate Kayako Kawamata, nude and in the throes of a passionate embrace with her husband ran through his mind.

  On the desk in the corner o{ the room was a Macintosh computer, a brown scrapbook, and several photos. All o{ the photos were of a woman in white.

  Kayako … Kawamata …

  Kobayashi clearly recalled the woman who always sat in the corner of the classroom, all by herself. Yes, this was Kayako Kawamata.

  Putting the pictures back on the desk, he took the brown scrap-book in his hands. While he had reservations about peeking at

  another person’s private thoughts, a strong sense of curiosity overcame his judgment, and he slowly opened the scrapbook. He saw terribly written characters all over the pages, along with badly drawn illustrations.

  Kobayashi-kun.

  “Huh?”

  Kobayashi’s eyes were glued to his own name in that scrapbook. Kobayashi-kun.

  His name was scrawled all over the lineless pages.

  “… Today, Kobayashi-kun and I locked eyes. 1 was so happy it felt as if my heart would explode, and fish were swimming around in my head … Today Kobayashi-kun was reading a comic book in the book-store. Kobayashi-kun often comes here. I always get there before him and wait here for him there … Today, Kobayashi-kun wasnt in class. I got worried, and searched out his apartment based on his address in the class list. I bought a bouquet of flowers for him, but I couldnt bring myself to knock on his door, so I just stood outside his apartment window for hours, praying that he got better soon …”

  Kobayashi was breathless. He recalled the woman in white who had called out to him on that first day of school. He didn’t try to remember her, but her image burned itself into his mind.