Touring the Land of the Dead (and Ninety-Nine Kisses)

by Maki Kashimada

  Yo¯ko sometimes brings the topic up when we talk, always sounding like she’s trying to make excuses. Meiko and Moeko, and Mom too, they all seem to think guys like me. But it isn’t true. Not one little bit. But to me, it looked more like she was trying to conceal even that basic fact. Maybe she’s realized it—that I’ve started catching on to what she’s doing.

  Oh, Yo¯ko, I know everything. I know just how cunning you are, how difficult you can be to deal with. I know because I love you. Even if you go out in secret to meet S, even if you don’t tell us sisters, I won’t blame you, I won’t mention it to any of the others. I’ll simply love you for how thorough you are, how meticulous. I won’t even try to imitate you. I just want to be enchanted by you, by your splendid worldly wisdom. Yo¯ko, won’t you show me one day, that perfect worldly wisdom of yours? And then you can take a so-what attitude, and you can say something like: Men, you know, they really love it when you do this. I love that kind of wickedness, Yo¯ko. And I want you to charm S, to charm him to your heart’s content. Because the wickeder you are, the greater the pleasure. It’s so good I could die.

  * * *

  Every now and then, when it’s still early in the evening, Meiko, Yo¯ko, Mom, and I watch TV together in the living room over a plate of fruit. But not Moeko, not today—she’s locked herself in her room, in total darkness. Masturbation. That’s what she’s doing. I put my ear up against her door. I could hear a pained voice coming from inside. It wasn’t hers. It must have belonged to an actress in a pornographic video. And even though I couldn’t be entirely sure, every now and then I could hear what must have been Moeko, gasping for breath. Was she imagining herself having sex with S? I could picture her in front of me, and my heart overflowed with ecstasy. It made me feel like I was doing it too.

  I remember one time when she let me in on it. You’re so innocent, Nanako. Let me teach you. Women do it too, you know? I do it. There’s no need to feel ashamed about it just because you’re a woman. But Nanako, you have to keep it a secret from Mom and Meiko. Because they’re old-fashioned when it comes to sex. And from Yo¯ko too.

  Moeko. I’m not the innocent one. You are. That’s what I muttered to myself, deep inside my heart. An embodiment of pure pleasure. That’s how I think of her.

  This one’s good. Why don’t you watch it, and try playing with yourself? Moeko said, lending me one of her videos. I bought it at that second-hand bookstore near Dangozaka. I just walked right up to the clerk and gave it to him, like I was buying an ordinary paperback. He put it in a paper bag. I must have looked too confident, maybe that’s why he reacted that way, she laughed. You’re much better off buying them there, from that second-hand bookstore, rather than going to a video rental place. They’re cheap, and maybe this is a matter of taste, but the older ones are better. The actresses are all so ugly in those old videos, don’t you think? I love those ugly actresses. It makes the sex look more realistic.

  Late one night, I watched it alone in my room. Thinking about Moeko masturbating to it, a strange and sacred feeling came over me as I knelt reverently on the floor in front of the screen.

  The video depicted a woman, dressed in a sailor-style school uniform even though she was obviously in her twenties, being violated by another woman wearing a leather dress. When you think about adult videos, you normally imagine a man violating a woman, so I sat there immersed in it, like I was looking at a priceless artwork. I racked my brains trying to understand why Moeko liked watching women violating other women. I mean, she isn’t a lesbian or anything. And after a few minutes, it all made sense. Unlike those videos that practically reach the finishing line when the man inserts his penis, in this video, the one that Moeko had given me, the actresses kept on playing with each other’s breasts. The video was clearly suited for women too, what with that way that the actresses were stimulating each other’s erogenous zones. And it made me so happy when I realized that Moeko’s erogenous zone was probably her well-shaped breasts.

  The memories came flooding back to me. Every now and then, Moeko likes to grab me from behind and hug me tightly. Her soft, warm breasts pushing against my back. It’s such a gentle feeling. And the reason why she does that, the reason why she likes hugging me, another woman, so tightly from behind—it has to be because her breasts are her erogenous zone. That’s what you’re telling me, isn’t it? I wanted to ask her. And if I did, she would probably just answer with a plain, decisive: Yes.

  Moeko is like the clitoris in our family. She’s erotic, a central, vital figure who can’t be neglected or ignored. Always innocently saying such lewd things, always laughing in that loud voice of hers, always the center of the conversation. And we always find ourselves deferring to her.

  * * *

  “Why do you have that?” Meiko screamed.

  “It’s fine, isn’t it? I’m just borrowing it,” Moeko retorted.

  “You two, cut it out!” Even Mom was starting to get angry with them both.

  They were fighting over S. S again. He had given Meiko a tube of lipstick. And of course, she was busy gloating about it. Maybe he’s in love with me, don’t you think? she said. And then Moeko had gotten jealous, and had secretly used that tube of lipstick for herself.

  My sister gave it to me when I went home a while back. Apparently S had said something along those lines to Meiko. She didn’t want it, but it’s brand new, so she thought I might as well give it to someone else, you know?

  “What’s the problem? He gave it away so it could be used!” Moeko said.

  Indeed. One of you can use it, right? That was what he said, when he gave it to Meiko. So maybe it did belong to all of us.

  “But he gave it to me. So it’s mine.”

  “Only because he bumped into you at the library, right?”

  Meiko was honest to a fault. All she had to do was say that he had given it to her as a present. That’s probably what Yo¯ko would have done. No—Yo¯ko would have probably kept the whole thing to herself. But Meiko had wanted to boast about it. I’m sure of it. When I went to the Hongo¯ Library today, right, I bumped into S there. What a coincidence, don’t you think? He was looking at the display for the novelist of the month. And when I went to say hi to him, he gave me this. Here. That was what she said as she waved that tube of lipstick around.

  When I heard that he had been hanging around the novelist of the month display, I couldn’t help but think that he sounded like the kind of literary snob who goes on about how he’s studying novels. But in the eyes of my sisters, his enthusiasm was something to be admired.

  You or your sisters can use it, he said to me. So if you want to try it, I’ll let you borrow it. But you have to ask first. That was what Meiko had said. So basically, it was never only hers, and it should have been fine for Moeko to use it too.

  But Moeko has always been a sore loser, and the way that Meiko had explained it all must have really grated on her nerves. And so she had gone and used it without uttering a word to anyone.

  “You thief!”

  “What? It isn’t yours!”

  The two of them lunged toward one another.

  “You two, stop it!” Mom screamed.

  I glanced across the room, my interest suddenly shifting to Yo¯ko. She was perfectly composed, busy occupying herself with the brie cheese and Earl Grey tea that Mom had bought from the Queen’s Isetan department store at Koishikawa. She had remained silent the whole time, simply enjoying the food and drink.

  Yo¯ko. Maybe it was Yo¯ko who had used the lipstick. But it looked like that possibility hadn’t even occurred to Meiko. At times like this, Moeko is always the one who gets blamed first. She can be pretty tactless, and she doesn’t have Yo¯ko’s innate sense of cunning, so if she were to use it without saying anything, it was obvious that she would end up getting caught out.

  “Why . . . ? Why . . . ?” Moeko began to cry. “It isn’t even yours! He only gave it to you because you ran into him at the library, that’s all!”

  But that wasn’
t all, was it? Moeko understood that better than anyone. If he was going to go to the library, why didn’t he bump into me there? Maybe he would have given me that tube of lipstick, and then I would have had an excuse to talk to him.

  That’s what happened, isn’t it? That’s what she wanted to ask Meiko. Moeko was so jealous, so envious, that she couldn’t even understand her own feelings anymore.

  That’s what happened, isn’t it? Isn’t it, Meiko? This month’s novelist is Kawabata Yasunari, right? Are you a fan of his? That’s the kind of conversation you had with him, isn’t it?

  This had probably all occurred to Moeko only subconsciously, but she was so paranoid about Meiko and S having just such an exchange that the mere possibility of it only ended up fanning her jealousy.

  Yo¯ko, her expression perfectly composed, continued to sip at her tea, as if savoring the flavor.

  * * *

  Meiko, Moeko, Yo¯ko. My three bewitching sisters. Please kill me. Mess me up. The visions kept on coming. I could see them playing with the phallus that I shouldn’t have. And then, when I finally became one with them, there I was, melting away into nothingness. Maybe this is what it means to feel in love, I wondered. I had never seen anything particularly charming about S. That was why I didn’t have much reason to fight with my sisters anymore after he popped up. I was on neutral ground.

  But, I thought, it was without a doubt thanks to S that my sisters had become even more enthralling.

  Ever since that S moved here, Meiko and Moeko have really fallen out, Mom said to me one day. Even Yo¯ko’s holed herself up in her room ever since the two of them started fighting. What on earth has happened to those girls? I wish that man had never come here.

  But Mom, that’s wrong, I murmured in my heart. They’ve always been that way. Jealous, secretive, stubborn. To me, on the other hand, ever since S appeared, the three of them had become only more attractive.

  Compared to my three sisters, I don’t really have much drive, or a sense of self for that matter. I’ve always had this mental complex. I’ve never once understood what I want, or what’s right. For example, I’ve never been in love. I’ve only ever dated guys who have asked me out first. My individuality, my sense of being, they’ve all been stolen away from me—my three sisters’ personalities have robbed me of them all.

  Is what I’ve been doing really so sinful? Is it wrong to want to be like silk, to want to be dyed the colors of my sisters? Hey, Mom, do women exist to be dyed the color of men? To be dyed by someone else—is that only allowed during the act of making love? I wonder whether I’m a bad daughter.

  I’ll be sucked dry by my sisters. They’ll caress my body, my heart, until my very existence turns into nothing. When my sisters die, I’ll probably end up disappearing. Not dying—disappearing. There would be no pain. It wouldn’t bother me at all to just turn invisible and fade away.

  People will point out at me as I make my way through the Yanaka Ginza, shopping basket dangling from my hand: Look, there’s someone who’s lost themselves. Make sure you don’t end up like her! You’ve got to be able to stand and walk on your own two legs!

  I don’t know why I’m so disappointed with love, with life. They’re all just so boring. I’m just completely taken by my sisters, my sisters who don’t let themselves get overwhelmed by such things, who are able to go on fighting fearlessly among themselves over the same man. They’re my whole standard of reference. My personality only serves to add something to theirs. It might not even add anything. I’m just an echo of them. But it’s an erotic experience, this way of being.

  Meiko, squeeze your hands around my neck. Moeko, stab me with a knife. Yo¯ko, put your mouth to mine and fill me with poison. I’m getting close to them, slowly, little by little. I’m becoming one with them. Like ice melting drop by drop. My sisters are a coordinate axis, and I’m the mathematical function that draws a phallus over them.

  I don’t have my own story. My story is that of my sisters. They laugh, they get angry. It’s composed of those kinds of things, this story of mine. I watch them all closely, like a blouse clammy with sweat. After all, the youngest sister always takes the supporting role.

  My sisters might teach me how to play bad one day, like they did back when I was a kid. Do it naturally! Your heart, your body, don’t hold back, lay it all bare, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. But don’t tell Mom. She’d probably say it’s wrong. But it isn’t. It’s completely natural. I mean, if we’re all honest about our desires, of course we’d want to mess around like this.

  Mom would probably get angry. That I might die and go on living inside my sisters. But that’s the only way that I can go on living. All I can do is face my beautiful sisters head on, and lose myself inside them.

  * * *

  The day came out of nowhere. Mom saw Yo¯ko strolling through town hand-in-hand with S. That was pretty sloppy of her, I thought. I wondered whether the power of love had paralyzed all those qualities that defined who she was.

  “Just what exactly is going on between you two?” Mom demanded.

  Yo¯ko, however, kept silent.

  It wasn’t like Mom was saying that she couldn’t go out on dates. She had young daughters, so it was only a matter of course that they would want to hang out with guys. She of all people ought to have understood that. But this time, that person was S—and that was why she would have none of it.

  Meiko and Moeko listened in as Mom kept on questioning Yo¯ko in the living room.

  Yo¯ko remained silent for a short while, before finally opening her mouth. “I’m going out with him.”

  At this, Meiko burst into tears.

  “You two, leave us alone for a minute!” Mom shouted.

  Finally, she let out a tired sigh. “It isn’t like I’m telling you not to go out with boys, you know,” she said, as if reciting a line from a movie. “But out of everyone you could have chosen, why did it have to be him? Even since that man popped up here, you three seem to have all lost your minds. Nanako is the only one of you with any sense. Just because some strange young man’s moved here, you three have all managed to convince yourselves that you’ve fallen in love with him. Haven’t you?”

  “That isn’t it,” Yo¯ko said. “I’m serious about him. We’ve even promised to get married next year.”

  “Marriage? You’re only twenty-one! You’ll meet all kinds of men in the future! And what about finishing your education?”

  “I’ll quit.”

  Mom sighed again. “And what does he do for a living? I see him out and about all the time during the day. Don’t tell me he works at a nightclub or something?”

  “He’s working part-time at the moment. But he’s going to be a filmmaker. A director.”

  “A film director? Do you really think he’s got what it takes for that? I’m not saying it’s impossible, but you do realize that only a handful of people are ever able to achieve anything even remotely close to that, don’t you?”

  “He’s talented. And besides, I’ll work too, until he’s able to make it happen.”

  “Don’t be stupid. That means you’ll be supporting him. I won’t allow it.”

  “If I can’t marry him, I’ll die.”

  There was a loud smack. Mom had slapped her. Yo¯ko burst into tears.

  Yo¯ko, normally so cool and dry, was shedding tears. Yo¯ko, always so calm, who hardly ever fought with us sisters. How on earth had S managed to stir up her passions like this? Was he really that special? I couldn’t understand it. I just couldn’t understand what was so attractive about this man who had gone and captured my sisters’ hearts. And all I could do was prick my ears and try to make out what she was saying. I wanted to see it too. Yo¯ko’s tears. They would be so beautiful. Like glittering droplets trickling down from a pillar of ice. That’s what they would be, I was sure of it. But all I could do was imagine them. Yo¯ko’s tears. Welling up as if from an underground water vein. Because that was what they would be. Her tearful face would be completely differe
nt than Meiko’s or Moeko’s. Those two merely ended up looking disheveled when they wept, but not Yo¯ko.

  The visions started flashing through my mind. The image of a man called S, making Yo¯ko cry. He was doing it out of spite, wasn’t he? He couldn’t turn his own dreams into reality, so he was taking his feelings out on her. He struck her. I felt a thrill as it occurred to me that this might have already happened, that it might still be happening. Or else in the throes of sex, he would take her in his arms. Roughly, violently, as if punishing her. And she would shed yet more tears at his cruelty. Stop it, please! I can’t stand it anymore! It’s too good! No more! That’s what she would be crying out as the tears ran down her cheeks.

  That was why I wanted to see them. Yo¯ko’s tears. Every drop would be like shards of glimmering crystal. Flawless. Perfect. Because what else could they possibly be? So I made that man into a terrible person, all to make Yo¯ko cry. In my mind, I made him into someone who couldn’t love anyone, into an embodiment of pure malice.

  * * *

  After that, Meiko and Moeko stopped fighting with each other. Indeed, there was no point fighting over S anymore. Nor did they show any sign of prejudice or ill-will toward Yo¯ko. It was like they had both climaxed and were now overcome with exhaustion. My three sisters, and Mom, and me—the five of us went back to watching TV together, none of us fighting over anything. Each of us no doubt immersed in our own thoughts.

  I asked everyone if they wanted to try some chocolate that I had bought from the convenience store nearby.

  “No thank you,” Meiko answered forlornly.

  I tried to offer some to Moeko.

  “Chocolate? Ah, okay. I’ll try some. It’s good for your health, after all.” She took a piece into her hand, staring at it vacantly for a short while.