I was practically beside myself with joy, announcing, “the cops caved in!” But Mokuren was livid.
“You idiot! You dipshit! You moron!” She called me many more names, most of which I’d never heard before, while sitting half-up in bed. I’d never seen her that furious.
“How clueless can you be? Everything is ruined now! We’ll be surrounded!”
“What are you talking about? We were already surrounded by the news. You put that advertisement out there in the first place, what did you expect?”
“You just don’t get it. You’re going to turn this into a conversation about how having the cops here will make us safe. You are so stupid.”
“Well, maybe I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but do you want things to stay dangerous around here? Do you want some creepy macho thugs out there who are pissed off at us to come around and attack us?”
“You honestly have absolutely no idea. Why do you think I spent a fortune to take out that ad? I wanted to make the point that things like love suicides and justifiable self-defense don’t have to happen in a place where everybody trusts each other, like the lodge. There are other ways to protect yourself from an indiscriminate attack than knocking someone else off in a preemptive act of so-called self-defense. Having the police here to keep us safe totally defeats the whole fucking purpose!”
“Why did you have to put yourself out there like that and tell everyone love suicides don’t happen here? Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone and treat our safety like it mattered instead of going to all that trouble just to disrupt it?”
“Maybe because people like you are here too. Because someone like you worries all the time about whether or not we’re really safe and wonders whether someone will come here to attack us, whether something bad will happen. It’s the really suspicious person who is liable to crack, to run, to strike first. I wanted you to understand, Iroha, to understand that we don’t have to worry here because we have trust. I put myself out there because I wanted you to understand.”
Now I was wincing. “Well, thank you very much. You’re right. I’m the most dangerous character around. But you trust me enough to let me stay here anyway. That trust is the only thing that stands in the way of me going on a rampage. That’s what you’re saying. I see how it is. I get it now, so why don’t you chase off the media, the cops, and the looky-loos? That’s what you want, right?”
“Don’t you at least understand that we can’t stop something midstream that we already started?”
“Excuse me? We? You were the one who started this, all on your very own. You decided, and you went ahead and did it. Just you. You didn’t trust me. You didn’t trust anyone else either. You don’t need anyone else, do you, Mokuren?”
“That really hurts. But since I guess I don’t need anyone, I suppose I’ll get by even if you hurt me, huh? I will be just fine even if you pout like that and don’t trust me, right? You decided that’s how it is, and you make it happen. Don’t mind me. I don’t care. Because I trust you. Call the cops or anyone else you want. You have the right as an independent person.”
“Hey, watch it!” I wasn’t calling her out so much as trying to give myself a chance to simmer down. “Any trust here is fragile. Neither of us trusts the other. We both are second-guessing each other. What’s there to advertise to the rest of society? The biggest joke would be for us to commit a love suicide right when everyone’s eyes are on us like this. After all, I’m the bitch who started this whole love suicide thing in the first place.”
“Do you want to kill me?”
“Not particularly.”
“Do you want to die together with me?”
“You’re pissing me off now.”
“It’s better to ride with the tide and not waste all your energy trying to hold back the urge to do it, you know?”
“Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
“Iroha, you’re real lively, aren’t you? All rosy-cheeked and eager as hell. You look just like a steamed peach bun. Kisaragi said so, didn’t she? The high times are the most dangerous too.”
“I’m not the one who’s high!”
“I want you both to kill me, and soon!” Udzuki’s rough voice cut through the cream-filled air as he stepped through the door to Mokuren’s room and into our midst. “You’re pathetic. You just rag on each other. Waah, you don’t trust me! You can talk like that because you freakin’ baby each other. You’re so sugary sweet with each other. It gives me goosebumps. Peach buns or whatever the hell it is, let’s just eat it and be done with it already.”
“What’s it to you? Udzuki, this is not your business.” I understood why Mokuren said this. Udzuki perturbed me too.
“Yeah, that’s right. Nothing to do with me. It’s your fight. A big-fucking-deal fight just for you two. You have all that energy because you’re arguing, and you damn well know it. It’s the same as feeling strong and brave cuz it’s coming down to the main event, the lodge versus society. You think it’s gonna kill us? Please! How likely is that? But I suppose some people up and die even when it doesn’t look likely to happen, which is why this joke of a world is the way it is. But you two, your joke isn’t even funny. Nobody’s laughing. It’s a big yawn. Even so, here I am hoping you’ll both just kill me.”
“I’d say you’re the one getting a buzz from fighting,” Mokuren snapped back.
“Maybe. I’m an action junkie. I just love arguing like this. I could go on forever, because nothing I said connected with Kisaragi. Maybe she didn’t trust me, but whatever, the communication wasn’t happening. We were both speechless. Without the trust, if you try to be a little loving, it just comes out like a lie, and you keep pushing each other further and further away til there’s no relationship left there. I hate jokes. Especially boring jokes. That’s why I’d like to see you two walk the walk instead of talking out your asses with those energizer jokes. I’d like you to finish off Kisaragi, me, and all the other idiots who responded to your damned advertisement.”
I felt a gaze on me, the gaze of someone who knew the ins and outs of my fate. Was I just following instep with a predetermined fate? I felt exhausted and robbed of all will, and even though I wanted to say something, I couldn’t find the words. Everything had already been said, and it felt like nothing I could say would matter anyway.
“So, Udzuki, what did you want?”
“The cops are here. They’re waiting for Iroha.”
“I’m so sleepy.” Mokuren barely could get those words out as she yawned and started to snore softly.
Two days later, a makeshift police box on par with a portable toilet that was set up next to the gate made the news, and as expected, a backlash erupted in the world below. The criticism was memorable enough to go in one ear and out the other.
Namely: Who wouldn’t want round-the-clock police protection? But it’s simply not feasible for the police to provide protection to every household, so we must be responsible for protecting ourselves. That’s the price we pay to go on with our lives and, in a sense, our duty as residents of this Island Nation. To shirk that responsibility and claim special rights for oneself is to steal the taxpayers’ money. While they pretend to live independently, that’s all talk, because they are guarded by the authorities. These bastards run away, oblivious to the casualties of the war that has befallen our society ... and so on.
A sudden storm arrived on Ascension Pass early the following afternoon. Black clouds covered the sky like smoke from a burning old tire, it was as dark as night, rain started pounding down like a waterfall, and the gales were powerful enough to rip through your skin. Violent changes in the weather were nothing out of the ordinary for this pass, but the defenseless press corps ran around in a state of panic. Those able to withstand the storm under a sturdy tent or make it to a car were okay, but others were balled up like turtles under the barrier tree branches. The port-o-cop-box was shaking dangerously too.
And then almost as soon as a flash of lightning sho
t through the black clouds, ear-splitting thunder rumbled like a bomb going off, and you could hear the sound of a tree trunk snapping in half. I looked out from the second-story balcony to see a cedar go up in flames. The air had chilled enough to freeze-dry your skin. I decided to step outside and invite the trembling reporters and camera crew inside.
I let them all take baths, made them honey-lemon tea, and told them about the plan I’d been mulling over for several days. My idea was to let those who so desired stay here for the going rate (of course, I made up the going rate) depending on the availability of rooms. Each room has a maximum occupancy, and each company would be responsible for making the necessary staff adjustments. Those who did stay would be responsible for observing the same rules as other guests. Filming was prohibited inside the lodge. They could speak with other guests only with their consent. Any coercion, and they would be asked to leave, etc., etc.
By evening, the storm had passed, and some crews returned with suitcases. The guests were, of course, even more nervous than usual, but everything went relatively smoothly. That night while we chitchatted after dinner, I told the reporters I was Iroha.
So while Mokuren slept off the fever brought on by her injury, the mass media reports from inside the mountain lodge began. I threw us into the breach and agreed to an interview.
It took place on a sunny afternoon in the garden. Reporters formed a ring around me with cameras running behind them. What made this different from the usual interview was the fact that I was also holding a camera and filming the whole time. I wanted to make them uncomfortable.
They started off with softball questions about what I’d been doing up until then, how I was feeling, and what I was up to now. I gave truthful and basic answers as to my life over the past year and a half, more or less what I’ve written in this document. They looked flustered when I mentioned the names of Miko and Inoue. Nevertheless, the question I’d predicted — “Were you actually lovers?” — was not followed by any creepy push for details.
When we got to the subject of the mountain retreat, one newspaper reporter started to monopolize the questioning.
“Having stayed here for several days now and had the opportunity to converse with you, I understand this is not a sect or cult. Granted, the media bears some responsibility for why you’ve been called a sect or a cult too, but that also has something to do with Mokuren’s advertisement, specifically the line she drew between us and them. Do you agree with that opinion, Iroha?”
“As I said earlier, Mokuren is in bed with a terrible fever brought on by the attack. After she recovers, please ask her directly.”
“I’m actually asking for your opinion.”
“It’s easy to say ‘I trust you’ — to talk the talk. But as far as what that really feels like, how you live it, and what it means in practice, that’s a lot more difficult. Maybe it will have the braking effect Mokuren described if you believe that’s my perspective.”
“Because your perspective wouldn’t be as rosy as Mokuren’s?”
“Mokuren’s isn’t rosy. It’s just that she has a stronger sense of trust than I do.”
“That sounds rosy to me.”
“People who think that way, like me, just don’t have the hang of real trust yet.”
“Well, I guess it all comes down to how we define our terms.” That reporter got a little testy and looked impatient for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure and resumed questioning. “Another reason why this retreat has been seen as a cult is your presence here. In fact, that could very well be the biggest reason. You were witness to the beginning of the love suicides. You were deeply connected to that first incident, when we turned the sharp corner that led to this age. Your presence has colored our image of Mokuren.” It felt like she was laying into me.
“I don’t understand the question.”
“Cutting to the chase, would it be wrong to see Mokuren’s advertisement as an apology of sorts for your role in that first love suicide?”
“Mokuren wrote that ad herself. I didn’t have anything to do with it. I don’t understand why you’re treating us like the same person. If you’re going to talk about the people here like we are all the same, that will make us look like a cult.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll rephrase the question. Iroha, do you feel any responsibility for the love suicides? Or do you have a victim mentality?”
“That question doesn’t seem to need an answer, but I’ll answer anyway. I think virtually everyone bears some responsibility for the situation. In that regard, I feel some responsibility too. I don’t really understand what you mean by victim mentality.”
“That was a fair answer, but it might come across as being for the cameras’ sake. Iroha, did you agree to this interview because there was something you wanted to communicate to the public?”
“I just wanted to lay rest to the rumors.”
“Are you saying you wanted to clear up public misconceptions?”
“I just wanted you all to be able to go home.”
“Well, it would seem Mokuren’s advertisement was intended to draw media and public attention to this mountain retreat. For my part, I came here to inquire because I thought you wanted to show or tell us something.”
“That is precisely why I said you need to ask Mokuren herself. If there are no more questions I can answer, why don’t we call it quits?”
“Let me be more frank. You survived the love suicide that started all of this. Why is it, then, that you’ve been hidden away here where you are protected? Why didn’t you want to speak out about the value of life to the rest of society?”
I felt as if my consciousness receded into the distance, like that bottomless free-fall feeling right before you wake up.
I quickly snapped out of it and said, “I didn’t survive. Who in this society is surviving? Aren’t we all just either dead or not dead yet?”
“Is that truly your belief? If that’s the case, all that’s left for those of us who are ‘not dead yet’ is to die? Am I wrong? That’s like telling people to commit love suicide. Just as we’ve suspected, you really do think these developments have been necessary, don’t you?”
“What the hell do you mean ‘just as we’ve expected?’ Don’t twist around everything I say to suit your theories! Life is not about killing someone else so that you don’t die. I honestly want to live, so I wanted space between me and places where you can kill or get killed.”
“Are you saying you can’t kill or get killed at this mountain retreat?”
“Seeing as how this place is part of the world, there is always a danger. And, in all honestly, there have been times when I was scared. I was a little sketchy myself at those times. By that I mean I was on the verge of thinking about whether I’d live or die. But hardly anyone who’s stayed at this retreat thought of themselves as survivors. Because of that, I’ve been able to live here without any violent outbursts.”
“Isn’t the fact you don’t consider yourself a ‘survivor’ proof that you are privileged? No one else has the luxury to think that way. Like it or not, you’ll die if you are on the receiving end, so you have to do whatever you can to avoid ending up in that position. What I can’t understand is how you, who survived yourself, will not try to understand what it’s like for ordinary people in these circumstances.”
“I haven’t survived. Two people are dead. Do you understand why they died and why I’m alive? If it’s supposed to be your problem too, you should get it, right?”
“That’s something only the person involved can know. Only you, Iroha. To be perfectly blunt, isn’t the world full of love suicides today because the person who appears to have blazed the trail did not put what she learned from that experience into words and make an appeal? If we’d had those words, I think they would have been surprisingly powerful.”
“Are you criticizing me for being irresponsible?”
“The reality is that we are in this kind of world now. Therefore, everyone without exception s
hould have to live under the same conditions. To create space between yourself and society and have it easy in a safe place while talking as if you were going it alone and independently is irresponsible! Going it alone is a much messier thing. In order to protect yourself, sometimes you have to violate your morals.”
I started feeling light-headed again. I didn’t understand what she was saying. I didn’t even know if it was Japanese. It felt like her mouth was a noisy rapid-fire cannon spraying something like buckwheat pellets right at me.
I was fed up, as if this same reporter had been interviewing me for ages. She had always been everywhere under the sun, popping up before me as if for the first time with the same old words, same old questions, asking for the same opinions, and throwing the same criticisms at me.
But she wasn’t exactly the same,the proof being that she was halfway transparent. While she continued repeating the same things on autopilot, she was actually disappearing. Her insides were all gone, and all that was left was a thin layer of skin on the surface. But no adult human being could take care of her, so any effort to re-stuff or repair her would be short-lived, because there’d be no way to make her stop saying the same words over and over again. This person is nobody. She’s not even human, just something that’s not dead.
It kept making noise.
“Back when I was with the international news division, I reported from the front lines. If you go to a battlefield, you’ll see that all anyone can do is protect themselves. Someone like you who says pretty things would be defenseless and, before you know it, dead. On this battlefield, self-defense is survival intelligence that comes from the drive towards self-preservation.”
Lonely Hearts Killer Page 19
