Goth

by Otsuichi

  “Yes, I do.”

  “May I ask your name?”

  Without really thinking about it, he told the boy the truth.

  “Saeki? Mind if I ask you a question? It might be a strange question, but …”

  “A strange question?”

  “I won’t take up too much of your time. About the scream last night … do you know anything?”

  Saeki felt like someone was pressing ice against his heart.

  “Scream … ? What scream … ?”

  “At around nine o’clock last night, someone was heard screaming near here. I know someone who lives in the area who told me about it; but it seems like your house was too far from here for you to have heard it,” the boy concluded, after carefully observing Saeki’s reaction.

  Saeki was more than willing to go along with this, so he nodded.

  “You see, one of my classmates never came home last night. Today was a half day, but my classmate didn’t come to school.”

  Saeki could not stop himself from looking away. The boy was at least ten years younger than him, but his eyes terrified Saeki. He could feel himself sweating under his clothes. The boy was talking about that girl …

  “My classmate walks this way to school every day, so I wondered if the scream last night was connected …”

  It was her, the girl Saeki had buried alive. “You know her well?”

  “I suppose,” the boy said, indifferent. Was this the boy the girl had mentioned?

  From the way he answered, no. He was very calm, and he spoke of her like she was a stranger. It was hard to believe they were close.

  “So you came here worried about your missing classmate?”

  “Oh, no. This is more like sightseeing.”

  “Sight—?”

  “At the police station, they have a map of the city with red marks all over it.”

  “Places where fatal accidents have occurred?”

  “Yes, you know it? I didn’t think anyone had noticed but me. My hobby is going to each of those red marks and standing on the spots where people have died—standing over the spot where their lives ended, feeling the asphalt under my shoes … Coming here was simply an extension of that hobby. I like looking at places where horrible things have happened, and it also occurred to me that, if I were lucky, I might run into the perpetrator returning to the scene of the crime.”

  The boy removed his hands from his pockets and took hold of the chain-link fence. The fence shook, emitting the sound of grating metal. The boy was staring directly into Saeki’s eyes.

  The boy’s words had almost made Saeki’s heart stop. Was he saying this in full knowledge that the man he was talking to had kidnapped the girl in question? Saeki dismissed the idea. That was out of the question.

  But his heart took no comfort from this, and he remained anxious.

  He heard the sound of a bird flying overheard and looked up. A lone crow was flying under the cold sky, its black beak pointed right at Saeki.

  Wait. Saeki had an idea.

  Perhaps the boy had found the badge—had linked the badge to the girl’s scream and had guessed that the culprit might come back here soon …

  Now the boy was keeping the badge hidden, testing him. But was that really possible?

  “So this missing classmate of mine … where do you think she is?” the boy asked. Once again, he appeared to be coldly observing Saeki’s reaction.

  Saeki wanted to run. The boy was on the other side of the fence and would have to run over to the park entrance before he could follow. But in that case … if he really had picked up the badge and he reported Saeki’s suspicious behavior to the police …

  “Do you know anything?”

  “No, nothing.”

  “Oh? I thought you would somehow.”

  “Why … ?”

  “Perhaps I was overthinking it. You see, you said you hadn’t heard the scream.”

  “So what … ?”

  “That doesn’t make sense. I only mentioned a scream, but when I mentioned my missing classmate, you asked if I knew her. You used the word ‘her.’ But I never mentioned anything that could identify my classmate’s gender. Saeki, how did you know my missing classmate was female?”

  “Ah, I do have a reason for that. There’s a high school girl I pass every morning here, but this morning I didn’t see her. That’s all. I just assumed you must’ve been talking about her.”

  The boy nodded. “A thin girl with long hair?”

  “Yes—pale skin, with a mole under her left eye,” Saeki said, remembering the photograph on her student ID. But how long would he be able to hold up his end of this conversation? The boy clearly suspected him. He was getting more and more uncomfortable, as if there was an arm slowly tightening around his neck.

  “Are you okay? You look pale.”

  “I’m not feeling all that hot, no.”

  “Wait there—I’ll be right over.”

  The boy left the fence, walking quickly toward the park entrance. On the way, he picked up his school bag, which he’d left next to the swings. Once out on the road, he came back toward Saeki, looking concerned.

  Saeki wiped the tension-fueled sweat from his brow with one sleeve.

  “Since yesterday … I’ve been feeling pretty sick.”

  “I do apologize for making you talk with me in such a condition. I said I wouldn’t take up much of your time, but it seems I have … Perhaps we should find someplace where you can sit down?”

  “Yes …” Saeki pretended to think about it for a moment, but he already knew what he would answer. “I suppose my house would be closest.”

  He planned to take a few steps and feign a dizzy spell, almost falling over. The boy would come running over, and he would take advantage of this, convincing the boy to help him home. Then Saeki would kill the boy, checking the boy’s pockets at his leisure. But he didn’t even need to do any acting.

  “You don’t look well—should I walk you home?” the boy frowned, not wanting to tax Saeki unduly. Convenient.

  “Please. This way …”

  They walked together, Saeki with his shoulders hunched and shivering occasionally. He did feel pretty terrible, so it wasn’t hard for him to pretend he was sick.

  As they walked, Saeki tried to figure out just who this boy was. He had apperared in front of him out of nowhere, and he was now walking with him. What should he do when they reached the house? How should he kill the boy?

  Once again, Saeki felt himself getting dizzy. Before he even knew it, he had started thinking about killing the boy with the same methodical detachment he used when he thought about work.

  There was a pure part of his heart begging him not to do anything else this horrific. But if the boy had picked up his badge and guessed at the connections between him and the girl, then Saeki had no choice—he had to kill him. Otherwise, the world would find out about the horrible things he had done.

  What would people he worked with think when they found out the real Saeki was a terrifying monster? That the man who had brought flowers in from his garden to brighten up the office was really a killer, a creature not worth spitting on? Would this knowledge sadden them? Infuriate them? His ears echoing with their revulsion, Saeki would be so overcome with shame that he would only be able to stare at his own feet, the flames of shame burning all around him.

  He could never let that happen. The boy had to die. He squeezed his eyes shut, telling himself this again, trying not to cry.

  They were at his home in no time. He didn’t remember what they had talked about on the way there, but he felt like they had both avoided anything significant.

  “Nice house,” the boy said, looking up at it.

  “Yeah, but an old one. Come on in.”

  They went through the gate. It was always open so the car could get in and out. The boy stopped in the driveway, looking at the garage next to the house. The garage doors were open, and the front of a black car was facing them. Saeki had cleaned all trace of the girl
from the back seat. There was no blood, no hair, nothing left. He had left the garage door open afterward.

  “Is that your only car? Then you live alone, right?”

  “Yes.”

  The boy looked at the garden.

  “That’s a lot of trees.”

  “My hobby. Like my own little forest.”

  After asking permission, the boy turned back into the garden. Saeki followed after him.

  Under the cloudy sky, everything Saeki had grown looked as though it were dark green. The boy passed a row of evergreens, sounding impressed. “This is quite a big garden!”

  Just past the evergreens, the garden opened up. This was the space on the south side of the house, between the porch and the wall. Several flower beds were framed by stones, but nothing grew there now. There was only the dry earth.

  And over by the wall, there were several bamboo poles. Where the morning glories had been, there was scattered straw, and underneath that …

  “No trees here?”

  “Keeping the view from the porch.”

  … Underneath that was the girl and whatever remained of Kousuke.

  The bamboo poles stood in a row along the wall, unmoving. The boy had not yet focused his attention on them, only perceiving them as part of the garden. But what if the girl in the ground grabbed the end of the pole and shook it? The boy would see it moving strangely and go to investigate.

  Saeki had to end this before that happpened. He told the boy to sit on the porch.

  “I’ll get some tea,” he said, stepping up onto the porch and heading inside.

  “I wonder where Morino disappeared to … ?” he heard the boy mutter. Saeki froze in his tracks, staring at the boy’s back.

  “I’m not quite sure how to explain this, but she gives off some sort of … pheromone that attracts strange people,” the boy said, turning to look up at Saeki. It was obvious he had intended his muttered comment to be overheard. “Walking around in a cloud of those pheromones means those abnormal individuals often come after her.”

  “Wait a moment—I’ll just get that tea,” Saeki said, leaving the boy. He could not be sure if the boy had deliberately brought the subject up to distract him, but there had been something sinister lurking behind the boy’s tone.

  As he boiled water for the tea in the kitchen, Saeki took a kitchen knife out of the drawer. He could think of no other weapons to kill someone with.

  The blue fire on his gas stove began heating the water in the kettle. He placed a cup and a teapot on a tray and the knife next to them. He gazed down at the metallic sheen of the blade, trying to imagine himself swinging it down to attack the boy on the porch from behind. The blade shimmered, reflecting the light of the burner. He was only making one cup of tea, so there wasn’t a lot of water, and it began to boil quickly.

  Saeki put his hand on the edge of the sink, steadying himself. Otherwise, he couldn’t have remained upright. Nothing of the sweet sensation he had felt while burying the girl was left. Instead, he felt terrible, like he was living a nightmare. Everything he saw, everything he touched seemed to be giving off the stench of rot. But the ugliest thing of all was himself. He had killed Kousuke, he had buried that girl alive, and now he was about to stab this boy. Compared with the strength of the girl’s belief in her boyfriend, his own heart seemed so pathetic. His nightmare had begun the moment he’d killed Kousuke.

  Or perhaps he had been doomed to this nightmare the moment he had been born. The moment he had been granted life, his soul may well have been possessed by the unavoidable urge to murder.

  The water boiled, steam pouring out of the mouth of the kettle. Saeki reached to turn off the flame and realized …

  Kousuke …

  Steam rose, the water in the kettle boiling furiously.

  What had Kousuke looked like … ?

  Saeki could not remember the face of the young boy he had killed. Although he had gone with him to the park and they had played together any number of times, Saeki retained no memories of him, as if the boy had been disposable.

  What was wrong with him? He no longer knew. Part of him was a good citizen who tried to be nice to people, but another part of him was a monster who buried people alive for fun. These two fought like multiple personalities, but they were not different people—they were connected, aligned, the same.

  But in that case, who was he then? Who was the man he had thought he was? He could no longer believe in himself, so what could he believe in?

  He picked the knife up off the tray, his hand trembling …

  He turned off the stove and filled the pot. Then he headed toward the boy on the porch.

  Saeki walked quietly. As he turned the corner, he was in sight of the porch, and he could see the boy’s back. The boy was facing the garden, sitting on the porch.

  In his hand was a cell phone, held to his ear. Was he calling the police? For a moment, Saeki was terrified.

  He crept quietly forward.

  Saeki could hear the boy talking on the phone. From his tone, he was not talking to the police, but to a friend.

  As he stood behind the boy, the boards under Saeki’s feet creaked.

  The boy turned around, hanging up. “Saeki, that took ages!” the boy said. “And you look even sicker …”

  Saeki put the tray down next to the boy. “Yes, well … I’m getting very dizzy …” He poured the tea into the cup.

  He had to fight the terrifying beast that lurked within his heart. He held the cup out to the boy, silently making up his mind.

  He had left the knife in the kitchen. When he realized he could not remember Kousuke’s face, he felt like he had no choice. This seemed to be the only escape from the nightmare.

  The boy took the cup. White steam rose from the pale green liquid, vanishing into the air. He watched it for a while, and then he put the cup down without drinking.

  “Saeki, I have good news,” the boy sighed, looking slightly relieved. “Morino did go missing yesterday, but apparently she just came home.”

  iv

  When the clock on the wall reached midnight, Saeki was curled up in a ball in the corner of his room with the lights out, hugging his knees and breathing softly in the darkness. He couldn’t stop shaking. He’d been like this since well before sunset, and he no longer knew if he was hot or cold, alive or dead.

  The long hand of the clock moved forward another notch. As it did, it apparently moved into the perfect position to reflect the moonlight pouring through the window. It glittered white. The gleam caught the corner of his eye, and Saeki finally found his resolve. He stood up and went downstairs and to the garage. He picked up the trowel he kept there and a crowbar to pry the lid off the box, and then he went into the garden.

  He had been waiting for the world to be submerged in darkness. He’d been afraid someone might look over the wall during the day and see what he was doing. But the longer he waited, the more his imagination had taken over, driving him half-insane. Overcome with terror, he had nearly passed out in the darkness, and before he knew it, he’d been curled up like that for more than six hours.

  He passed the evergreens and came out in the clearing between the wall and the porch. Staring at the row of bamboo poles along the wall, he took another step forward. The back of his hand stung painfully, right where the girl’s nail had broken the skin the night before.

  Saeki stood in front of the chest-high dry bamboo poles, the poles that connected to the girl’s coffin. His hand hurt so much he could have sworn it was bleeding.

  First, he called out to the girl. She didn’t respond. Hands trembling, Saeki yanked the pole out of the ground and dropped it to one side. He brushed the straw aside, uncovering the hole where the pole had been.

  He stabbed the tip of his trowel into the ground and began to dig.

  He worked without light, to avoid attracting attention. The clouds that had covered the sky all day had been swept away by the wind. Like the night before, everything was bathed in the pale light o
f the moon. There were no sounds from the road beyond the wall, and he worked in almost total silence, the only sound coming from his trowel as it bit into the earth. He was still incredibly dizzy, his body weak like he was running a fever. As he dug, he remembered what the boy had said on the porch.

  “It sounds like she had a pretty rough time of it, but she’s safe and sound now. I just spoke to her on the phone. I’m headed over there now—thanks for taking the time to talk to me.”

  The boy had said all this before his tea was even cold, bowed his head, and then rose to leave.

  Saeki had merely blinked at him, unable to parse the boy’s meaning. There was no way the girl could be aboveground.

  But the boy had picked up his bag and headed toward the gate without seeming to notice Saeki’s confusion.

  Saeki had stepped off the porch, slipped on his shoes, and followed after, through the trees.

  “She’s … she came home … ?”

  That had to be a lie. But he couldn’t stop himself from asking.

  “Yes, she did. It sounded on the phone like she was still in a state of shock. But I wouldn’t worry; she’ll recover soon enough.”

  The boy went through the gate, turning toward the park. Saeki stopped just outside the gate. He put one hand on the gatepost, supporting himself, and watched as the uniformed boy walked away.

  The boy had stopped at the intersection not far from the gate, and he’d waved down the cross street. Someone Saeki couldn’t see must’ve been coming that way. Eventually, that person stepped onto the corner and stood next to the boy. It was a long-haired girl whom Saeki recognized at once.

  He couldn’t believe his eyes. He stared at the girl’s face: even, beautiful features, pale skin. The girl he had buried alive. She was talking to the boy.

  Was he dreaming? He was so dizzy that the houses and telephone poles were all bending. The road and walls were all moving like waves in a pond …

  He’d glanced toward the bamboo poles where he’d buried the girl—and then he’d broken into a run. The moment he took his eyes off the duo at the corner, the boy had turned toward him. But all Saeki cared about was under those poles.