The Complete Ring Trilogy

by Kōji Suzuki

  “I see,” murmured Asakawa. “So that’s the meaning of this collection. But how do you know that the name of the person we’re looking for is in here?”

  “I’m not saying it definitely is. But there’s a strong possibility it’s here. I mean, look at what she did. You know yourself that there are a few people who can actually produce psychic photos. But there can’t be too many paranormals who can actually project images onto a television tube without any equipment whatsoever. That’s power of the very highest order. Someone with that kind of power would stand out, even if they didn’t try to. I don’t think Miura’s network would have let someone like that slip through.”

  Asakawa had to admit that the possibility was genuine. He redoubled his efforts.

  “By the way, why am I looking at 1960?” Asakawa suddenly looked up.

  “Remember the scene on the video that shows a television? It was a rather old model. One of the early sets, from the ’50s or early ’60s.”

  “But that doesn’t necessarily mean …”

  “Shut up. We’re talking probabilities here, right?”

  Asakawa chided himself for being so irritated this last little while. But he had good reason to be. Given the limited time-frame, the number of files was huge. It would have been more unnatural to be calm about it.

  At that moment, Asakawa saw the words “Izu Oshima” in the file he was holding.

  “Hey! Got one,” he yelled, triumphantly. Ryuji turned around, surprised, and peered at the file.

  Motomachi, Izu Oshima. Teruko Tsuchida, age 37. Postmarked February 14, 1960. A black-and-white photograph showing a white lightning-like slash against a black background. The description read: Subject sent this with a note predicting a cross-shaped image. No traces of substitution.

  “How about that?” Asakawa trembled with excitement as he waited for Ryuji’s response.

  “It’s a possibility. Take down the name and address, just in case.” Ryuji turned back to his own search. Asakawa felt better for having found a likely candidate so soon, but at the same time he was a bit dissatisfied with Ryuji’s brusque reaction.

  Two hours passed. They didn’t find another woman from Izu Oshima. Most of the submissions were either from Tokyo itself or the surrounding Kanto region. Tetsuaki appeared, offering them tea and two or three possibly sarcastic comments before leaving. Their hands on the files were getting slower and slower; they’d been at it for two hours and hadn’t even polished off a year’s worth.

  Finally, somehow, Asakawa got through 1960. As he went to start on 1961 he happened to glance at Ryuji. Ryuji was sitting cross-legged on the floor, motionless, face buried in an open file. Is he asleep, the idiot? Asakawa reached out his hand, but then Ryuji emitted a stifled groan.

  “I’m so hungry I could die. How about you go buy us some takeout and oolong tea? Oh, and make reservations for this evening at Le Petit Pension Soleil.”

  “What the hell?”

  “That’s the inn the guy runs.”

  “I know that. But why would I want to stay there with you?”

  “You’d rather not?”

  “For starters, we haven’t got time to lounge around at an inn.”

  “Even if we find her now, there’s no way to get to Izu Oshima right now. We can’t go anywhere today. Don’t you think it’d be better to get a good night’s sleep and marshal our energies for tomorrow?”

  Asakawa felt an indescribable aversion to spending the night with Ryuji at an inn. But there was no alternative, so he gave up and went out to buy food and tell Tetsuaki Miura they’d be staying the night. Then he and Ryuji ate their takeout and drank their oolong tea. It was seven in the evening. A brief respite.

  His arms were tired and his shoulders stiff. His eyes swam, he took off his glasses. Instead, he held the files close enough to his face that he could lick them if he wanted. He had to use all his concentration or he was afraid he’d miss something, which tired him even more.

  Nine o’clock. The silence of the archives was broken by Ryuji’s mad screech. “I’ve found it, finally! So that’s where she was hiding.”

  Asakawa felt himself drawn to the file. He sat down next to Ryuji and put his glasses back on to look at it. It said:

  Izu Oshima, Sashikiji. Sadako Yamamura. Age 10. The envelope was postmarked August 29, 1958. Subject sent this with a note predicting it would be imprinted with her own name. She’s the real thing, without a doubt. Attached was a photograph showing the character yama, “mountain”, in white against a black background. Asakawa had seen that character somewhere before.

  “That’s … that’s it.” His voice trembled. On the video, the scene of the eruption of Mt Mihara had been followed immediately by a shot of the character for “mountain”, identical to this one. Not only that, the screen of the old television in the tenth scene had displayed the character sada. This woman’s name was Sadako Yamamura.

  “What do you think?” asked Ryuji.

  “No question about it. This is it.”

  At long last Asakawa found hope. The thought crossed his mind that maybe, just maybe, they’d beat the deadline.

  6

  October 16—Tuesday

  10:15 a.m. Ryuji and Asakawa were on a high-speed passenger boat that had just left port at Atami. There was no regular ferry linking Oshima and the mainland, so they’d had to leave the car in the parking lot next to the Atami Korakuen Hotel. Asakawa was still clutching the key in his left hand.

  They were scheduled to arrive on Oshima in an hour. A strong wind blew and it looked like rain. Most of the passengers hadn’t ventured out onto the deck, but stayed huddled in their reserved seats. Asakawa and Ryuji had been in too much of a hurry to check before buying their tickets, but it looked like a typhoon was approaching. The waves were large, and the rocking of the boat was worse than usual.

  Sipping a can of hot coffee, Asakawa went over the whole chain of events again in his mind. He wasn’t sure if they should congratulate themselves for having come this far, or reproach themselves for not having found out about “Sadako Yamamura” and set out for Oshima Island earlier. Everything had hung on noticing that the black curtain flashing momentarily over the images on the video was eyelids, blinking. The images had been recorded not by machine but by the human sensory apparatus. Essentially, the person had focused her energies on the video deck at cabin B-4 while it was recording, and created not a psychic photo but a psychic video. This surely indicated paranormal powers of immeasurable proportions. Ryuji had assumed that such a person would stand out from the crowd, and gone looking for her, and had ultimately found out her name. Not that they knew for sure that “Sadako Yamamura” was, in fact, the culprit. She was still just a suspect. They were heading to Oshima in order to follow up on their suspicions.

  The sea was rough, causing the boat to pitch and roll violently. Asakawa felt an ugly premonition come over him. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea for both of them to go to Oshima. What if they got tied down by the typhoon and couldn’t leave the island? Who’d save his wife and daughter? The deadline was almost at hand. 10:04 p.m., the day after tomorrow.

  Asakawa warmed his hands with the coffee can and shrank down into his seat. “I still can’t believe it, you know. That a human being could really do something like that.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you believe it or not, now, does it?” Ryuji answered without taking his eyes from his map of Oshima. “Anyway, it’s a reality staring you in the face. You know, all we’re seeing is one small part of a continuously changing phenomenon.”

  Ryuji set the map down on his knee. “You know about the Big Bang, right? They believe that the universe was born in a tremendous explosion twenty billion years ago. I can mathematically express the form of the universe, from its birth to the present. It’s all about differential equations. Most phenomena in the universe can be expressed with differential equations, you know. Using them, you can figure out what the universe looked like a hundred million years ago, ten billion
years ago, even a second or a tenth of a second after that initial explosion. But. But. No matter how far we go back, no matter how we try to express it, we just can’t know what it looked like at zero, at the very moment of the explosion. And there’s another thing. How is our universe going to end? Is the universe expanding or contracting? See, we don’t know the beginning and we don’t know the end; all we can know about is the in-between stuff. And that, my friend, is what life is like.”

  Ryuji poked Asakawa in the arm.

  “I guess you’re right. I can look at photo albums and get a reasonable idea of what I was like when I was three years old, or when I was a newborn.”

  “See what I mean? But what’s before birth, what’s after death—these are things we just don’t know.”

  “After death? When you die, that’s the end, you just disappear. That’s all, right?”

  “Hey, have you ever died?”

  “No, I haven’t.” Asakawa shook his head with utter earnestness.

  “Well then you don’t know, do you? You don’t know where you go after you die.”

  “Are you saying there’s such a thing as spirits?”

  “Look, all I can say is, I just don’t know. But when you’re talking about the birth of life, I think things go a lot smoother when you posit the existence of a soul. None of the claptrap of modern molecular biologists actually sounds real. What are they really saying? ‘Take hundreds each of twenty-odd different amino acids, put them in a bowl, mix them all together, add a little electrical energy, and voilà, protein, the building block of life.’ And they really expect us to believe that? Might as well tell us we’re all children of God—at least that’d be easier to swallow. What I think is that there’s a completely different kind of energy involved at the moment of birth; almost like there’s a certain will at work.”

  Ryuji seemed to lean in a little closer to Asakawa, but then he suddenly changed the subject. “By the way, I couldn’t help but notice you were engrossed in the Professor’s oeuvre back at the Memorial Hall. Come across anything interesting?”

  Now that he mentioned it, Asakawa remembered that he had started to read something. Thoughts have energy, and that energy …

  “I think it said something about thoughts being energy.”

  “What else?”

  “I didn’t have time to finish reading it.”

  “Heh, heh, that’s too bad. You were just getting to the good part. The Professor could really make me laugh, the way he’d set out in all seriousness things that would shock normal people. What the old man was saying, basically, is that ideas are life forms, with energy of their own.”

  “Huh? You mean, the thoughts in our heads can turn into living beings?”

  “That’s about the size of it.”

  “Well, that’s a rather extreme suggestion.”

  “It is indeed, but similar ideas have been propounded since before the time of Christ. I suppose you could just look at it as a different theory of life.”

  Having said this much, Ryuji suddenly seemed to lose interest in the conversation, returning his gaze to the map.

  Asakawa understood what Ryuji was saying, most of it anyway, but it didn’t sit very well with him. We may not be able to scientifically explain what we’re facing. But it’s real, and because it’s real we have to face it as a real phenomenon and deal with it as such, even if we don’t understand its cause or effect. What we need to concentrate on right now is figuring out the riddle of the charm and saving our own asses, not unlocking all the secrets of the supernatural. Ryuji might have some good points. But what Asakawa really needed from him were clearer answers.

  The farther out to sea they went the worse the motion of the boat, and Asakawa began to worry he’d get seasick. The more he thought about it the more he thought he felt an unsettled feeling in his chest. Ryuji, who had been nodding off, suddenly raised his head and looked outside. The sea was throwing up dark gray waves, and in the distance they could see the dim shadow of an island.

  “You know, Asakawa, something’s worrying me.”

  “What?”

  “The four kids who stayed at the log cabin. Why didn’t they try to carry out the charm?”

  That again.

  “Isn’t it obvious? They didn’t believe the video.”

  “Well, that’s what I thought. It explains why they pulled a prank like erasing the charm. But I was just remembering a trip I took with the track team back in high school. In the middle of the night, Saito comes bursting into the room. You remember Saito, right? Kind of not quite all there. There were twelve of us on the team, and we were all sleeping together in one room. And that idiot comes running in, teeth chattering, and screams, ‘I’ve seen a ghost!’ He opened the bathroom door and saw a little girl crouched behind the trash can by the sink—she was crying. Now, aside from me, how do you think the other ten guys reacted to this?”

  “They probably half believed and half laughed it off.”

  Ryuji shook his head. “That’s how it’d work in a horror movie, or on TV. At first no one takes it seriously, and then one by one, they’re picked off by the monster, right? But it’s different in real life. Every single one of them, without exception, believed him. All ten of them. And not because all ten of them were especially chicken, either. You could try it on any group of people and get the same results. A fundamental sense of terror is built into us humans, on the instinctual level.”

  “So what you’re saying is, it’s strange that those four didn’t believe the video.”

  As he listened to Ryuji’s story, Asakawa was recalling the face of his daughter, crying from seeing the demon mask. He remembered how puzzled he’d been—how had she known the demon mask was supposed to be scary?

  “Hmm. Well, the scenes on that video don’t tell a story, and they’re not all that frightening to just look at. So I suppose it’s possible to disbelieve it. But weren’t they at least bothered, those four? What would you do? If you were told that carrying out a charm would save your life, even if you didn’t believe in it, wouldn’t you feel you ought to give it a try anyway? I would have expected at least one of them to break rank. I mean, even if he or she insisted on putting on a brave face in front of the others, he or she could always perform the charm in secret after getting back to Tokyo.”

  Asakawa’s bad feeling grew stronger. He had actually wondered the same thing himself. What if the charm turns out to be something impossible?

  “So maybe it was something they couldn’t carry out, and so they convinced themselves they didn’t believe it anyway …” An example occurred to Asakawa. What if a woman who had been murdered left a message in the world of the living in an effort to get someone else to avenge her, so that she could be at peace?

  “Heh, heh. I know what you’re thinking. What would you do if that turned out to be the case?”

  Asakawa asked himself: if the charm included a command to kill someone, would he be able to do it? Would he be able to kill a perfect stranger to save his own life? But what worried him more was, if it came to that, who would be the one to carry out the charm? He shook his head furiously. Stop thinking such stupid things. All he could do at the moment was pray that this Sadako Yamamura person’s desire was something that anybody could fulfill.

  The outlines of the island were becoming clearer; the wharf at Motomachi Harbor was slowly coming into view.

  “Listen, Ryuji. I have a favor to ask.” Asakawa spoke fervently.

  “What’s that?”

  “If I don’t make it in time … that is …” Asakawa couldn’t bring himself to say the word “die.” “If you figure out the charm the very next day, could you … Well, there’s my wife and daughter …”

  Ryuji cut in. “Of course. Leave it to me. I’ll be responsible for saving wifey and babykins.”

  Asakawa took out one of his business cards and wrote a phone number on the back. “I’m going to send them to her parents’ house in Ashikaga until we solve this thing. This is the numbe
r there. I’m going to give it to you now, before I forget.”

  Ryuji put the card in his pocket without even glancing at it.

  Just then came the announcement that the ship had docked at Motomachi on Oshima Island. Asakawa intended to call home from the waterfront and convince his wife to go home to her parents’ for a while. He didn’t know when he’d get back to Tokyo. Who knew? Time might run out for him here on Oshima. He couldn’t stand the thought of his family alone and terrified in their little condo.

  As they walked down the gangway, Ryuji asked: “Hey, Asakawa. Do a wife and kid really mean that much?”

  It was a very un-Ryuji-like question. Asakawa couldn’t help but laugh as he replied, “You’ll find out, one of these days.”

  But Asakawa didn’t really think Ryuji was capable of starting a normal family.