Maki Kashimada: Touring the Land of the Dead: Two Novellas

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. Yōko, 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 Yōko 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.

Yōko, 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 Yōko in the living room.

Yōko 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,” Yōko 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. Yōko burst into tears.

Yōko, normally so cool and dry, was shedding tears. Yōko, 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. Yōko’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. Yōko’s tears. Welling up as if from an underground water vein. Because that was what they would be. Her tearful face would be completely different than Meiko’s or Moeko’s. Those two merely ended up looking disheveled when they wept, but not Yōko.

The visions started flashing through my mind. The image of a man called S, making Yōko 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. Yōko’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 Yōko 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 Yōko. 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.