by Otsuichi
When Sakura told me about her discovery, I’d immediately guessed there was a connection between the hole and the pet kidnappings. I figured there was a strong possibility that the place she’d found was the place I’d been looking for.
I sent her home alone and headed for the bridge. I took the concrete stairs from the end of the bridge down to the riverbank and there found the clearing in the sea of grass. There was a cloud of flies a short distance away.
I looked down into the hole at my feet. Marble and Pavlov were among these corpses.
I turned away from the hole, leaving the bridge, and I went home, waiting for night to fall.
When the clock showed ten, I put a knife in my pocket and emerged from my room.
Sakura was still in shock from seeing those dead animals, and she was sprawled out on the sofa in the living room. When I passed in front of her, heading for the front door, my mother looked up from her TV show, asking where I was going. When I answered, “The convenience store,” Sakura muttered, “The midnight convenience store warrior!”
I returned to the space under the bridge. It was Friday, so there was a strong chance the kidnapper would show.
As I walked, I tried to imagine what someone who killed animals for fun would be like. I could almost picture the kidnapper tossing the dead dogs into the hole.
If I could, I wanted to watch the killer work. I was curious about the kind of ritual that preceded the disposal of the corpses.
Things that were merciless and cruel always captivated me. The conversations my classmates enjoyed and the warm words I exchanged with my family never really resonated with me. They were just static, like a radio that wasn’t tuned properly.
At night, the river turned black, like a universe without stars but spread across the ground. The lights on the bridge barely managed to illuminate the water. There were no signs of anyone else around, so the kidnapper must not have arrived yet.
I cautiously descended the stairs and went into the grass. As I pushed my way through it, I remembered what Morino and I had said on the phone before I left the house.
“I’m going to see someone who likes dogs. Do you want to come?”
“I’d love to, but I have so much homework.”
“There wasn’t any homework.”
“My mother’s illness took a turn for the worse. She’s at death’s door.”
“No need to force an excuse. If you’re afraid of dogs, I won’t insist,” I said, and I got a response well beyond what I had expected.
“W-what are you talking about? Afraid of dogs? Don’t be silly! I’m not afraid of those things!”
She’d sounded earnest—not the kind of person who was fun to tease. I apologized and, for the sake of her pride, hung up pretending not to know the truth.
Now I hid myself in the grass.
My knees on the ground, I pulled a digital camera from my pocket. The lights on the bridge above were the only illumination, so it was questionable whether I’d be able to capture anything. I opened up the aperture and set the shutter speed to the slowest setting, trying to get an image without resorting to using the flash. If I used the flash, the kidnapper would know I was there, and I hoped to avoid that.
I did not intend to report the dog killer to the police, preferring to keep the kidnapper unaware of my existence. It was a rule of mine not to get involved. I was a third party, just watching from the sidelines. If I didn’t report the criminal, more pets would be kidnapped, and more people would be sad and would cry, but that did not bother me at all. I was that kind of person.
From where I was hiding, I could see the stairs leading down from the bridge and the clearing. I figured the kidnapper would cross the clearing on the way to the hole, and that was my chance to get a photograph.
The river carried massive amounts of water downstream. Hidden in the grass, I could hear the water moving past. I remember how black the river surface had been. It was a very quiet image.
A chilly wind blew past, rustling the grass around me. One blade poked me in the cheek.
When my watch showed twelve, a shadowy figure appeared on the bridge above. As it came down the stairs, I lowered my head, breathing quietly to keep my presence a secret.
The shadow reached the bottom of the stairs and vanished into the grass. The faint light spilling over the edge of the bridge was just enough to let me make out the swaying grass as the figure pushed its way through before emerging into the clearing. The figure had been hidden in shadow as it came down the stairs—but in the clearing, I could see it clearly.
Emerging from the grass was a girl with a dog. The girl was very short, with hair down to her shoulders. She was very thin. The dog was a golden retriever. It was the same girl and dog that had passed us when I’d been out with Morino.
A smaller dog was in the girl’s arms. The dog was struggling and whining, but the girl was used to holding dogs, so she didn’t drop it.
I got the camera ready.
†
When Yuka and I first found the clearing under the bridge, it was a very hot summer day. There were no clouds in the sky, and the sun beat down on the sea of grass around the bridge.
Yuka and I were on a walk. We’d played like we always did, running until we could run no farther. At last we were too out of breath to run, and we’d stopped on the road by the river.
We leaned against the concrete railing, resting, staring down at the sea of grass below. There was a gentle breeze, and the grass shifted like invisible hands were moving it.
Yuka called me. When I turned toward her, I saw that she was looking at the stairs leading down from the end of the bridge.
As we went down, I could feel her sense of adventure; it was almost dancing. At the bottom of the stairs was a world of green. We moved forward through it, our noses filled with the grassy scent.
Yuka must have decided it was boring walking normally, because she glanced back at me and then suddenly ran forward. Clearly, she was signaling me to give chase. We forgot how tired we were as we chased each other around in the grass.
It was a hot summer day, and I was soon roasting. Still, I followed Yuka through the grass. When I lost sight of her, I’d soon hear her laughing, and I’d surge toward the voice, causing her to run again.
Suddenly we came out into a clearing. It was like the world opened up before us. The powerful scent of grass faded, and a gentle breeze wrapped around us. We were in a circular area that had remained free of grass.
Yuka had found it first, and she was standing in the center of the clearing, appearing surprised. She looked around, and then she saw me come flying out of the wall of grass. At first, it confused both of us, but soon we began to feel like we’d found something special. I could see her eyes glittering with joy.
How long ago had that been? It seemed like a distant memory.
Shortly after we found the clearing, he’d started coming. And then Yuka and I had begun our midnight walks. The wind grew colder every day. We no longer felt the warm light that had enveloped us that summer day.
Even if we did take a walk during the day, we no longer ran or chased each other. We no longer played; we just went looking for homes with dogs. Doing so made it easier to find prey at night.
Yuka told me to do so. I didn’t know why, but I knew it wasn’t for fun. Yuka’s eyes never smiled. Her sadness and hatred overwhelmed all other emotions. I had to do as she asked.
The wind was a little colder than it had been last time. It was still early in the evening, and there were still plenty of cars racing by on the bridge. Their blinding lights raced toward us, our shadows spreading out before shrinking and zipping past us, then vanishing into the darkness.
We looked down at the grass from above. Most of it was lost in darkness. The wind rustled the grass, waves traveling through darkness. We could only make out a small portion of it from the faint light of the streetlights on the bridge.
Yuka and I went down the stairs and into the clearing.
&
nbsp; I looked closely at the wall of grass around us. Was anyone hiding there? Could I smell any stranger’s scent in the air?
Just as my nerves were all standing on guard, Yuka called me. It was time to begin.
We placed the dog we’d brought with us in the center of the circle. It was not as small as a puppy but not as big as a grown-up, either—it was a young dog, almost finished being a child. It looked up at us, surprised. We’d kidnapped the dog on our way there.
When we took the dogs, they always called loudly for their owners. When they did that, we would calm them down by giving them my food.
Yuka moved to the edge of the clearing, leaving me with the dog. She always sat there and watched the carnage.
I stared into my opponent’s eyes, and I got ready to jump on him. The dog was cowed by my stare, and it lowered its head. My nerves were on end, waiting for Yuka’s signal.
My opponent had no idea what we were about to do. It looked up at me anxiously, whining—looking for its owner.
A gust of cold night wind rattled the grass like the roar of the surf and then vanished. Silence fell. The stream of cars on the bridge seemed to have died out, and I could no longer hear them. In the silence, I tensed. The air crackled. The little hole waited for destruction and death. I strained my senses, waiting for the moment to begin.
The dog in front of me looked around nervously, cowed by the mood in the air. It whined again plaintively.
As it did, Yuka called out, short and sharp: “Fight!”
I sprang forward, closing the distance between the baffled dog and myself instantly. Our shoulders crashed together. The dog was knocked aside, rolling. I growled. My opponent bared its teeth, still a little confused. Its eyes filled with confused hostility.
My heart began beating faster. I could feel the ground beneath my feet and the flow of air past me so clearly. My mind was occupied with figuring out just how long it would take me to cover the distance between my opponent and me. Every little move the dog made had me guessing which direction it would go. I had been through many fights, so I was getting good at this.
But my heart was always filled with sadness. How long was Yuka going to make me do this? I didn’t really want to kill anything. All my life, I’d never thought my jaws were meant to be used this way.
The dog moved to the right, as I knew he would, and I was there ahead of him. The dog’s fur scattered in the air. Blood spilled, and the dog staggered. Darkness surrounded us.
We fought awhile longer, and then Yuka stood up.
“Bite!” she shouted, her voice charred with hate. Those feelings were all for that man; she had started making me do this after he’d started coming. The suffering locked within her was all released here when she made me kill.
I regarded the wounded dog in front of me, and then I looked at Yuka screaming. I howled. My shrill cry echoed under the bridge. My head felt hot. Why was this happening? Why couldn’t we play and laugh like before?
The dog shivered, trying to hide itself in the darkness. It no longer had any will to resist. It could barely stand, and it was terrified of dying.
I would end it now.
I whispered to myself, advancing on the four-legged animal. I opened my jaws wide and bit it on the neck. My teeth pierced its skin, sinking deep. Blood gushed out, filling my mouth.
That summer day had been bathed in the light of fortune. Yuka and I had found the clearing in the grass while running around. I had jumped on Yuka, and she had fallen over. For a moment, I was worried I’d hurt her, but she lay there looking happy, so I flopped down on the ground next to her, and we gazed up at the sky together. The sun had warmed our bodies, and our noses had been filled with the smell of grass and the faint odor of our sweat …
The animal in my jaws stopped convulsing. Blood dripped off my chin. The body was getting cold. All sound around us had ceased.
I was good at killing now. I didn’t know if it was a good thing, but Yuka had taught me that my jaws could become a weapon.
All warmth had left the dead thing now. All that remained was a cold lump of flesh.
She had taught me, I thought again.
I took the dog that had been in my mouth and placed it on the ground, looking up at Yuka, who stared silently back at me.
I knew what she wanted. I could feel the strength of her will flowing into me.
Why had she made me kill all of these animals?
I had never known before—but now I finally understood: Yuka had been training me.
She had made me kill all these animals so I could experience death that many times, honing critical parts of me. My experience with death would prevent me from hesitating and failing when the time came.
Yuka could not fight that man, but I could become the fangs that would protect her.
Yuka nodded. She knew I understood now. She had been waiting for me to work it out.
I didn’t need any more training, I told her.
The man was sleeping over tonight. We would settle this in the morning. Yuka whispered this to me.
I tossed the dead animal in the hole, washing my mouth in the river and swallowing the animal’s fur. Now we would go home—and wait for morning.
Yuka and I turned to leave the clearing under the bridge. But just as we were about to push our way into the wall of grass, I stopped. Yuka was already in the grass; she stopped too, turning back.
“What?” I could feel her asking.
I looked at her, and then I searched the grass behind me. For a moment, I thought I had seen it move oddly.
Nothing, I thought. Let’s go. I looked back at her and ran to her side.
There may have been someone there. I was sure there had been—the same one who’d been after us, trying to catch us. And at last, he had hidden and watched what we were doing.
Until now I had been afraid of getting caught. Not anymore. I knew what I had to do now, and I was no longer anxious.
We didn’t need to kill animals again. I was done with my training. We no longer needed to fear the shadow that had chased us.
We climbed the stairs. I looked back one more time at the sea of grass, which was shrouded in darkness. I wanted to tell whoever was hiding there what Yuka and I had really been doing. I wanted him to know what had happened to Yuka and why she had decided to do this.
I still think that.
iv
“Hello … ?” Morino’s sleepy voice came from the other end of my cell phone. Her tone indicated she found it completely incomprehensible that anyone would call this early in the morning.
It was starting to get bright outside the window. I had slept only three hours, but I was able to regulate my sleeping patterns at will, so I hadn’t had much difficulty rising early.
I told Morino that I’d found the kidnapper.
“Oh,” she said, hanging up. I didn’t have time to tell her that the kidnappers had been the girl and the golden retriever we’d passed on the street. Apparently, sleep was far more important to Morino than the identity of the pet kidnapper.
My phone rang. It was Morino. I answered, and she got right to the point.
“You took pictures?”
I explained that I’d brought my digital camera the night before but had been unable to get anything usable. There wasn’t enough light under the bridge. The pictures were too dark to see anything.
“Oh,” she said, and she hung up again.
I changed clothes and left my room. My parents and sister were still asleep, and the house was quiet. At the entrance, I put on my shoes, and then I went outside. The sky was red to the east, turning the lampposts into silhouettes.
“Tomorrow morning,” I had heard the girl whisper last night under the bridge. Just after the ritual of death, that tiny little girl had whispered those words into the golden retriever’s ears.
From where I’d been hiding, I couldn’t work out the rest of the sentence. Was something going to happen that next morning, Saturday morning?
Would they
do the same thing? I headed for her house, armed with my camera. I knew where she lived. I had seen her go in the gate with her dog the other day. That must be her home. My plan was to quietly follow them and then watch them as they worked.
Shortly after I left the house, I realized I’d forgotten something. I had my wallet and the camera. I checked my pockets, and then I looked up at the second-story window, my room. I’d left the knife in my room.
Was it worth going back for a knife I wouldn’t even use? Or should I head straight for the girl’s house? I didn’t want to waste any time. It would be easier not to go back.
But even as I thought this, I found myself climbing the stairs again. I took a knife from the set behind my bookcase. There was a white sheen on the blade’s surface, and I had to fight off the urge to cut the tip of my finger. When the urge passed, I slid the knife into the leather sheath.
I left the house, my fingers on the sheathed knife in my pocket. It was thirsty, I thought. The blade of the knife was as parched as the desert sand.
I looked to the east, and the sky had turned the color of blood.
†
It was morning.
Yuka and I had woken as one when the light hit us. A single beam of sunlight had slid through the curtains and then across the carpet, the bed, the futon, and our faces. For a moment, we stared at each other.
It was fun to wake up with Yuka. Kicking each other, we wondered how we would play today. I never wanted to forget this moment. Even if we were separated, I always wanted to remember her like this.
Gazing at the dust in the sunbeam, we made up our minds and got out of bed.
We opened the door and looked around.
We could hear him snoring in the room where Mama slept. He always slept in there when he came over. Mama always went to work very early, which meant he would usually sleep in there alone all morning.
Yuka and I quietly walked down the hall until we stood at the entrance to the bedroom. Mama slept in the room at the very back of the house, and there was a sliding door between the room and the hall—but that morning, Mama had forgotten to close it, so it was open wide enough for me to slip inside.
