Cult X

by Fuminori Nakamura

  “And,” I asked, “this is why you said he’d come to get these papers? Because he’ll return to his senses temporarily?”

  “Yes. That’s why we hid. You haven’t seen Yanagimoto recently, have you?”

  Yanagimoto was the second-in-command of our group.

  “He may have been killed. He was the first one this list was handed to.”

  I was amazed. “Why us?” I asked.

  “You don’t know?” he asked, smiling faintly. “You must at least know that there are members of the group our teacher is unhappy with, right? The only ones he’s trusted lately are Yanagimoto, me, and you. We’re special, you know? We have something that draws people to us. You must be at least vaguely aware.”

  I didn’t think there was anything special about me, but I did know that Yanagimoto and Sawatari had that something.

  “We are getting in the way of his plans. So he has an unconscious desire to kill us. Thus when he comes back to his senses and is full of regret for his decision, the chances of that desire mixing into his thoughts are high. His mind is already in shambles.”

  I probably sat silent for the next thirty minutes, trying to make sense of the situation. Maybe longer. On the table was that thick stack of papers, the list of radicals. At some point Yo-chan also lowered the knife she was holding and began to think.

  “That’s not all,” I muttered suddenly. I didn’t mean to say it. “Our teacher is not just copying these myths because of his failing mind. Deep inside, there’s still a clearheaded part that has an idea . . . If the traitor is not himself but us, he might be able to find a way to escape.”

  Sawatari stared at me, and then smiled slightly.

  “Of course . . . You think so little of people that you could have that thought. But you’re correct. He may be trying to make everything out to be our fault to get through this pinch . . . As if he were the sacrifice. He may be thinking that even though Christ died, he himself could make it out unscathed.”

  “Are you really planning to hand this list over to the Public Security Bureau? Why? We don’t have to play along with any of this.”

  “. . . Because it’s fun.”

  “That’s why? Shouldn’t we be trying to convince him to rethink what he’s doing?”

  “Is that possible?” he asked. “Listen. If we hand this to the Public Security Bureau, and the people on the list get arrested, what will happen? Can these student protesters really change the world? Of course they can’t. Some of them will try to play revolutionary. They’ll brainwash themselves, and when they’re feeling good, run off to commit acts of violence, and it will all end with a few sacrifices. The ones who wake up will find work at the big companies that are exploiting them. These protests will make the remaining revolutionaries waiting in the wings lose hope, and an unforgiving attitude toward revolutionaries will spread through the public. It will all end as convenient fodder for the conservatives. Don’t you think the protesters will probably live more fulfilling lives afterward if they’re arrested now? Those on the list may think extreme things, but they’ve yet to do anything big. They’ll be arrested as a warning to the others, and then set free. They’ll have families, and become the sort of idiots who belong to a wealthy nation that exploits poor countries and say things like, ‘I was a bit wild then,’ and, ‘Kids these days are so pathetic.’ Wouldn’t that be better for them?”

  Sawatari smiled. But I didn’t agree. I remembered the war. I couldn’t let Japan start leaning right again. I couldn’t let us go to war again. I couldn’t shake the thought that anything that even slightly slowed down our transformation was good. But at the same time, I also imagined that while some of the people on this list were true radicals who would eventually self-destruct, many of them really would just return to everyday life.

  “I don’t want to.” That’s what I said. I didn’t want to betray anyone, or get caught up in this.

  Then Sawatari said, “Because you are lukewarm. You know it, right? That part of the Book of Revelations.”

  “Why did you say that?”

  “What?”

  “No, never mind.”

  It seemed Sawatari said what he had by coincidence. But it wasn’t just a coincidence.

  In the end, I didn’t help Sawatari or try to stop him. I just stayed in that hotel room while my teacher and those around him collapsed. Yo-chan and I watched a whole group of radicals get arrested on TV as if it had nothing to do with us.

  Rumors that my teacher was involved with revolutionary groups and that he had betrayed them began to spread in the blink of an eye. But he wasn’t punished by the authorities. Maybe they had a secret arrangement. Even though Christ got nailed to a cross.

  Maybe he tried to stop the group from falling apart. After the arrests, he had gathered the believers. He was giving his first lecture in a long time. Both Sawatari and I were there. He announced that he had supported the revolutionaries so he could reach “Ideal Sublimity,” and then he screamed that he was exposed by his own followers and betrayed. He pointed at me and Sawatari. His face was full of contempt. He had clearly forgotten the orders he’d given us. At the time, he genuinely hated us.

  The other followers stood up. Amid the screams and yells, many of them reached out for us. Then suddenly a large voice boomed through the room. It was like the voice of god.

  “I have a list here.”

  The hall gradually grew quiet.

  “Next Wednesday at one. Take this list to Tokyo Station . . . Are you listening? You mustn’t . . .”

  It was the teacher’s voice. Everyone went silent from shock. His voice was coming from the speakers in the hall. Sawatari had recorded it. That was when I realized why he was carrying that heavy bag when we met with the teacher. Back then we didn’t have portable audio recorders like we do now.

  It was a cheap and simple performance using the hall’s speakers. But at certain times those sorts of simple tricks work the best.

  “Sawatari-san,” yelled a tall man. Sawatari had planted him in the crowd. “Sawatari-san loyally followed our teacher’s orders. You all see, right? Our teacher is mad!”

  Our teacher lost his composure. It was as if the thin old man had gotten caught shoplifting, and wanted to resist arrest with his whole being. But he seemed so full of disappointment he couldn’t move from that spot. After making a strange motion with his hand a few times, he seemed stunned and stiffened up. Eventually, he grew so stiff he couldn’t move at all. Everyone stared at him, dumbfounded. It felt like such a long time.

  After that, our group fell apart. Some left, and some followed Sawatari. I took over the orphanages our teacher had managed. Sawatari told me once, “I hoped you would turn out like this.”

  I saw my teacher once after that. He’d been sent to a sanatorium for old people. Even when he saw me, he didn’t know who I was. He had forgotten everything. He had a pinwheel in his left hand. He looked like a child.

  But, to put an end to everything, I asked him why he’d chosen me and Sawatari to be his betrayers. He had sat there dreamily that whole time, not producing any distinguishable words. But then suddenly he said quietly:

  “Because you’re not the kind of person who would let his comrades die at war.”

  After saying that, he turned back to his pinwheel, completely entranced by the spinning.

  I remembered the dirty black bundle of cloth that my teacher had seen, the one that caught him when he was about to die. Had his life been saved just so he could experience being the person he became? Was it telling him he still had things he had to do? If that cloth had had a personality, maybe it would have told him something like, I want you to do these things in my place. So keep living.

  But . . . what for?

  After that, Sawatari came to meet me many times. He brought along fanatical, dangerous followers, and after sucking up their money, he’d send them away. An
d when he saw those who stayed with me just barely getting by running charities, he whispered this to me?

  “You tried to use me to make this group sound again—your unconsciousness has. By watching silently. You needed someone like me . . . Isn’t that right?”

  Eventually, I left someone else in charge of that group. Out of the blue, my father had secretly left me . . .

  Matsuo collapsed.

  21

  I don’t want to be left alone.

  Mineno felt a chill on her back and shoulders as she stared at the nape of Takahara’s neck.

  I’m lonely, she thought. Takahara-kun had fallen asleep as soon as they’d finished. I want him to hold me after we have sex. I get so scared. I feel like I’ve been abandoned. I feel all alone.

  She felt goose bumps rise on her back and legs. But if she pulled the cover, moved and rattled the mattress springs, Takahara might wake up. Mineno stared at Takahara while feeling the chill in the air. I’m all alone, she thought.

  Two weeks ago, she’d gotten her period. Even though she’d been positive she was pregnant. Even though she had definitely been pregnant. She still couldn’t get her feelings straight. Someone probably took it from me. Someone probably took the baby from my stomach.

  She shivered. I want to shake him awake and make him hold me again, she thought, even though he was right by her side. I want him to be obsessed with me, she thought. Three times in the middle of the act, Takahara-kun had checked whether there was anything wrong with the diaphragm. He’s such a coward. He’s always been like that.

  She got wet again. They’d just done it so much she could still feel it down there. Disgusting, she thought. I want more, she thought. Even though we just did it so much.

  Her mind grew fuzzy. She looked at her cell phone. She’d placed it next to the bed. She’d recorded them with an app on her phone. Her voice, Takahara’s voice, the sound of the bed shaking, the dirty words he’d purposefully whispered, trying to be mean, the wet noises of penetration . . . She got wet again. When she closed her eyes and listened to it, she could feel Takahara by her side. She’d masturbate, jealous of her own self being fucked by him.

  I have to hurry and stop the recording. I don’t need a recording of this lonely time. She didn’t care anymore if she woke him up. She stood up and put on her underwear.

  When she started dressing, she suddenly wanted to hurry herself up, as if she felt guilty for what they had just done.

  She put on the short skirt she wouldn’t normally wear. The blouse that exposed one of her shoulders.

  Takahara woke up. I hope he’s not upset, Mineno thought. I don’t want to see that smile he always puts on when he’s hiding the fact that he’s upset.

  “I’m sorry. I fell asleep.”

  “Don’t worry,” Mineno said, smiling.

  “But I was the one who called you so suddenly.”

  “No, don’t worry. I wanted . . .”

  “What?” Takahara smiled at her.

  Mineno made an embarrassed face. “I wanted . . . to do it, too,” Mineno said. She leaned down and kissed Takahara. She didn’t want him to think she was a burden. If he thought that, he would stop seeing me. Takahara wrapped his arm around Mineno. Laughing, Mineno petted his head as he buried his face in her chest. His hand reached into her skirt and tried to pull down her panties.

  “. . . Can we do it like this?” he asked.

  “No.”

  She didn’t want to do it with clothes on. She wanted him to undress her properly. But she tried to accept him. She wanted him to think she was an adult, and that they could meet casually. How stupid. Takahara’s tongue was in her mouth. But I love this man so much I can’t stand it. I love him so much I want to kill him. Takahara searched for the diaphragm with his right hand. Mineno held his arm down gently.

  “Leave it alone. It doesn’t even matter today.”

  Did her words sound casual? It did matter today. In the morning, she had taken the test in the bathroom. The line was dark. She was about to ovulate.

  “Mm,” she whispered in his ear. “It feels good . . . It feels good when you come in me . . .”

  Takahara was still smiling, but he reached for the diaphragm again. He only wanted safe fun.

  Should I whisper coward in his ear? Her body grew hot. How would he react?

  Takahara suddenly stopped moving and looked hard at the clock. Mineno kissed him, but he froze completely as if shocked by something.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I slept too long,” he said, still staring at the clock.

  “I have to call . . . my leader.”

  “What? Well, you’d better hurry,” Mineno said, even though she didn’t mean it. She pulled her body away from his. She looked at him. He’s lying, she thought. He’s not going to call Sawatari. It must be Rina . . . I mean, Ryoko Tachibana.

  “I’m sorry, but can you step outside for a second? I can’t let other people hear my conversations with the leader. It’s a rule . . . Or, I can go outside.”

  “It’s fine. I’m the one wearing clothes.”

  Mineno was already leaving before she finished speaking. She glanced at her cell phone, still sitting next to the bed. She hadn’t stopped recording. I don’t want to listen to him talking to Ryoko Tachibana. Or maybe I do. Maybe I do want to listen to it. Even though I know I’ll go mad with jealousy, I think I have to hear it.

  She left the room. What must I look like! A woman standing alone in the hallway of a sleazy hotel like this!

  I said I’d call at 4:00 p.m., and I’m already five minutes late. I wonder if it will be okay. Takahara’s mind kept racing. “They” were strict about time.

  He listened to his phone ring. They weren’t picking up. It’s because I’m late. This is bad. If I lose their trust, I have no future. Not even a short one.

  “You’re late.”

  It was a man’s voice. Takahara’s head began to hurt. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It took some time to get away from everyone.”

  “We don’t need your excuses. What about your tail?”

  His voice was low and sounded hoarse. Takahara tried to hide his nervousness when he spoke. “I’m not sure, but it seems like you worried too much. There are no traitors among my group. And no one else has noticed. Even the leader hasn’t.”

  He heard the other man heave a short sigh. Where was he? He could hear bustling in the background. He wasn’t sure why, but for some reason that sound seemed familiar to him. His head began to hurt again. It felt like he was being strangled. He felt the same pain when he had sex with Mineno.

  “These things require extreme caution. I’m sure you know this already, but if you fail . . .”

  “I know. We’ve got the machine guns—fifteen. Once we finish training, we can move.”

  “You’re very fast. Any problems?”

  “None. The trade went off without a hitch. Thanks to my men. We’ve also made arrangements to get explosives. We have eight trailers, and we’ll fill them with gunpowder. The trailers themselves serve as bombs. All that’s left after that is to do it.”

  “Let me say this is impressive.”

  “Of course it is.” All traces of nervousness had disappeared from Takahara’s voice. “We love destruction.”

  Standing in the hallway beside the door to Takahara’s room, Mineno heard a knock from the inside and stepped back into the room. The call had been shorter than she had expected. What did they talk about? Did he whisper stupid nothings to Ryoko Tachibana? If that’s the case, I’ll make her listen to me moaning. And the sounds he makes when he’s inside me.

  “. . . Sorry. Sending you out of the room in this kind of place.”

  “It’s fine . . . Was that really the leader?”

  “Hm?” The pitch of Takahara’s voice rose.

  Mineno stared hard at him. It must h
ave been Ryoko Tachibana after all.

  “It wasn’t Tachibana-san, was it?” She meant to say it as a joke, but her voice trembled slightly. Did he notice? That I’m upset?

  “Why would you think it’s her?”

  “What? Oh, I heard from Yo-chan-san. That that’s who you’re dating.”

  “But why do you know her name?”

  That’s right, Mineno thought. She gave us a fake name. It would be strange if we knew her real name. And I don’t think they know about Narazaki-kun.

  “I’m not sure. Yo-chan-san just knew it.”