Масахико Симада - Death by Choice

“If I tried a ski jump it’s quite possible I’d die, it seems to me.”

“Kind of like committing suicide by jumping to your death, eh?”

“So the order should be to do the other thing before I try the jump, in fact.”

“And what’s the other thing?”

“To abduct someone.”

“Kita, you’ve been wanting to abduct me all along! This is great!”

“The success rate for abductions is pretty low, you know.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll help.”

“OK, let’s try it.”

“Sure. But first, let’s have a bath.”

They changed into bathrobes and headed off along the squeaky wooden corridor for the bathhouse, their slippers flapping on the floor. Steam filled the dimly lit bathhouse, a room as cavernous as a temple hall. The big bath was reminiscent of a holding tank for fish. It was divided in four, with a log across the middle of each. A group of old couples, three middle-aged ladies who made no attempt to hide their breasts from sight, and an awkward-looking young man were all soaking themselves blankly. Kita and Shinobu disrobed behind the screen, then stepped together into a vacant bath. The bottom was lined with fist-sized stones.

“This feels great.” Shinobu’s naked body swayed palely in the soft, translucent water. Blissfully she scooped water in the palm of her hand and poured it down her back. Kita was blissful for different reasons – he was tasting the delight of seeing with his very own eyes this image of his adored idol’s naked body before the photographs had hit the stands. She was no phantom, but it nevertheless seemed to him she’d disappear if he reached out to touch her. Perhaps it was the hot spring steam that made him feel this way. At any rate, that’s how he chose to feel.

“She’s been abducted by me. I’m in charge of that body of hers until Friday,” he told himself. In order to convince himself, he’d go through the motions of the abductor, one by one. First off, he should let the production chief or the manager know he’d abducted her. An abductor always made some demand. They’d suspect him if he didn’t. OK, he’d demand ransom money. What would be a suitable sum? He shouldn’t go too high or too low. Maybe thirty million would be about right. He ought to make all sorts of unreasonable demands as well. Acting wilful was her responsibility.

Once out of the bath, he bought some milk in the vending machine, and as he sipped it Kita stood at the phone booth by the corridor and dialled the chief’s home number.

A woman who was evidently the wife answered. “This is the Fujioka residence,” she said, in a voice like a slowed-down recording. Taking his cue from her polite way of speaking, Kita began, “I’m sorry to bother you at this hour. Would your husband be in?”

“My husband is out just now. To whom am I speaking?”

“My name is Yukichi Fukuzawa,” Kita said, borrowing the name of the famous early Meiji scholar whose face was on the ten thousand yen note. “Could you pass on a message for me please?”

“Mr. Fukuzawa, is it? I’ll take your message.”

“I have Shinobu Yoimachi. Don’t inform the police. Just prepare thirty million yen. That’s the message. Thanks.”

“Er, could you explain?”

“This is an abduction. I’m serious. I’ll phone again. Goodbye.”

Shinobu stood beside him listening as she drank down a can of Pocari Sweat. “That was cool, Kita,” she said admiringly. Kita grinned shyly. “Let’s go back to the room and take a rest,” he said. “I’d like to hear some more of that Bible.”

They settled down on the bed and sipped beer while Shinobu read from the twelfth chapter of the Gospel according to Luke, where Jesus preaches to the Pharisees and lawmakers. Lightheaded from the bath, Kita felt the words of Jesus swim like water into his brain.

Think of the ravens: they have no storehouse or barn; yet God feeds them. You are worth far more than the birds!

Can anxious thought add a day to your life? If, then, you cannot do even a very little thing, why worry about the rest?

He felt as if the room had suddenly grown bright. All the strength drained from him, and he sank into sleep as if led there by some hand. When he woke again, it was two in the morning. Shinobu lay on the bed beside him. She breathed peacefully, holding Kita’s arm against her breast. Her cheeks were flushed, and she didn’t appear to be worrying about anything. Kita gently stroked her face.

Would those businessmen who sold Shinobu for profit be hustling around all night long to get together the money to win back their prize possession? Or would they come back at him with some ploy he couldn’t imagine? Kita thought of confronting the enemy. He felt not the least concern.

Kita went back to the telephone booth and called the chief’s house again. The call was answered after a single ring.

“Is that the chief?”

“It’s Yukichi Fukuzawa, isn’t it? You’re kidding me, son, aren’t you? Shinobu’s not in danger, is she?”

“She’s sleeping like a baby. Have you rung the police?”

“No. You’re the one who said not to, ain’t you?”

“If your first concern is Shinobu’s safety, you’ll do everything I ask.”

“Put Shinobu on the line. I want to hear her voice.”

“She says she has nothing to say to you.”

“Don’t tell me she’s in on this thing with you.”

“You’ll find out soon enough. Get together thirty million of those Yukichi Fukuzawa faces by tomorrow noon. I’ll telephone later with directions on the hand-over. OK, sleep well.”

Kita noted that he felt great every time he acted the abductor like this. He went back to the empty bathhouse and plunged into the bath. He ducked under the dividing plank in the middle, then amused himself by trying to walk along it. Not long after, Shinobu turned up, having found him missing.

“Bet you thought I’d disappeared.”

Shinobu looked sulky. She jumped into the bathtub, and splashed Kita’s face. Her breasts floated up and down in the water. I’ve abducted these two lovely round boobs too, Kita told himself, as he felt a still greater sense of fulfilment wash over him.

In the morning, an old woman came in to fold away the bedding. Both Kita and Shinobu were naked. The memory of the embrace that had lasted through till dawn still clung languidly about their bodies. They hastily donned bathrobes, and together set off for the bathhouse again. Kita’s arms, chest and neck gave off the faint lingering scent of Shinobu; the sensation of holding her still registered in the palms of his hands and on his belly. When they had first met at the hotel, she had seemed to him nothing but an intricate, life-sized wax doll, but now he knew the warmth of her flesh and the rhythm of her breath. Suddenly, he was no longer sure whether he was abducting her, or whether he was in love. Perhaps abduction was actually one form of love. After all, you do hear of cases where the kidnapper and his hostage fall for each other. And apparently, a law of nature dictates that the hostage will not condemn her kidnapper. In the beginning, she’ll watch him carefully in order to protect herself, but before long an attraction begins, and both begin to care for each other. Then, when the criminal is arrested, his victim will declare that he behaved in exemplary fashion. She’s the only one who can treat his crime lightly. This is why a kidnapper is wise to anticipate what will happen after he’s arrested, and be as polite and hospitable as possible to his victim.

Needless to say, Kita felt absolutely no animosity towards his own “victim.” He was a very lucky abductor. He had money. And he was pretty well loved by his captive.