Yukiko Motoya - The Lonesome Bodybuilder - Stories

I picked my way carefully through the trees back to the car, and found Kitae sitting on a nearby stump with the pet carrier on her knees.

“How’s Sansho doing?” I asked, thinking to myself, Oh no, Mr. Arai’s managed to convince her.

“Sansho—well, he seems to be quite calm about it all,” Kitae said, and pulled on the carrier’s zipper and peeled back the nylon flap that covered the top.

“Sansho,” she called, and Sansho raised his head, sniffing. “See? We’re in the mountains now. Your new home. You can pee anywhere you want. Everywhere! You’re going to be happy here.”

Sansho swiveled his ears and peered around cautiously, but after a while he stood up inside the bag and thrust the top half of his body out of the opening.

He’s getting away , I thought, and almost as soon as I did, Kitae grabbed his head and pushed him back down inside the carrier.

“No, no, no,” she said, looking like she might cry, and shook her head petulantly.

Why don’t we just head home? The words were in my mouth, but I managed to hold them back. They’d be easy to say. But then what?

Mr. Arai came back from his reconnaissance of the area and looked at Kitae stooped over on the stump, and me standing like a log beside her. He seemed to comprehend everything.

“Kitae, let me take care of it. I’ll go leave him over there,” he said calmly, as if he were telling her he’d lend a hand with the dishes.

“Arai. Did you say ‘leave’ him?” Kitae snapped, but in a voice so weak I wouldn’t have imagined it belonged to her. The words seemed to take the last of her resolve, and after that she would only say, “Oh, no. Oh, no. Ah. Oh, no.”

Mr. Arai gently lifted the carrier from Kitae’s lap, and turned to me. “I’ll just be a minute, then.”

“Right, okay,” I said, and then added, “I’ll come with you.”

Mr. Arai lowered his brows for a moment, looking concerned, and then glanced toward the back of Kitae’s head.

“It’s fine. Go. That’s why we asked her to come,” she said, still looking down, and Mr. Arai nodded and started to walk off.

When we were a little distance away, I thought I heard Kitae’s voice from behind us, saying, “Oh, ah,” but it sounded uncertain, and I didn’t know whether she was angry or relieved.

The slender Mr. Arai strode up the mountain path ahead of me. Sansho, in the carrier hanging from his shoulder, must have weighed twelve pounds at least, but Mr. Arai followed the trail confidently, as though it were a walking route in a city park.

I was frantically following, carrying the backpack Kitae had loaded into the trunk of the car. Thanks to the extra weight, I gulped at the air like a fish poking its face out of water.

With each step, the soles of my sneakers sank into the soft ground. The deeper we went up the mountain, the more oxygenated the air seemed. I could feel the breathing of the trees, the soil, and the things that were turning back into soil.

While I was distracted by the sound of insects, Mr. Arai, ahead of me, suddenly turned his face to one side like a wild animal. He seemed to have sensed something, and started climbing straight up the slope, easing through narrow gaps between trees. I followed with difficulty to a large rocky area where the ground leveled out. Water was flowing from one end.

“A rock spring,” I said, out of breath. “How did you know?”

“I grew up surrounded by mountains,” Mr. Arai said in a voice as clear as a bell, and carefully took the carrier off his shoulder and put it on the ground. “What do you think of this place?”

It seemed safer than the surrounding area, with better visibility and good hiding places under the rocks, but also more dangerous, considering the possibility of other animals.

“Seems good, I think,” I said haltingly. Nowhere was truly safe.

Mr. Arai nodded briefly. “We’ll do it here.” And maybe out of kindness for how much I was sweating, he said, “Shall we sit down? There’s a good view.”

Kitae’s backpack held a surprising number of items: dry cat food, canned food, plates, Sansho’s favorite blanket, toys, bottled water, a collapsible cat house made of nylon.

“The other animals will notice Sansho straightaway if we leave these out,” Mr. Arai said, sitting down on a convenient rock, voicing exactly the thought that was in my head. “What was Kitae thinking of, a picnic?”

“How long have you and she been married?” I asked, changing the subject even though I thought it might sound rude, so I wouldn’t have to think about Sansho inside the bag.

“Married? Let’s see, I think we’re coming up to forty-five years.”

“You got married young.”

“I was twenty-five and Kitae was twenty-two, or thereabouts. I thought we could have waited a little longer, but you know how Kitae won’t budge once she’s set her mind to something.”

“The two of you aren’t at all alike,” I said, and Mr. Arai seemed amused. Even though he didn’t laugh, I could see it in the depths of his eyes. He’d be a hard man to keep secrets from, something inside me said.

“You know, I’ve seen you and your husband together before,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yes. But you seemed a little different then, I think.”

“I’ve gained fifteen pounds,” I confessed, embarrassed, but Mr. Arai looked at me steadily, and quietly said, “Yes. That might be part of it, but I think you were also looking more… humanlike.”

Humanlike. “I don’t look human now?” I said, laughing to cover up my shock at his startling words.

“I’m sorry. That’s a funny thing to say when we’ve only just met. Please—it was just something that came to mind—don’t worry about it.”

“No, it’s actually… It’s something I’ve noticed myself.”

“It is?” Mr. Arai gazed at me again. I looked down at where the water welled up from the rock as though I were trying to pass unnoticed by some wild animal.

“Kitae’s told you about the couple who became identical? The wife had come to me for advice, and in fact I was the one who suggested putting down a stone. It might be best if you were to place something between you and your husband too. Shall we?” Mr. Arai got up.

Looking at his white shirt, which was still pristine even after walking so far, I stood hurriedly to follow him.

As soon as she saw us coming back, Kitae jumped out of the car.

“Arai! You must have gone a long way. Did you set Sansho free somewhere nice? He won’t be attacked by a bear, will he?” The skin around her eyes was puffy and red.

“It’s all right. We found a good spot for him,” Mr. Arai said slowly, and patted her shoulder as though brushing off some dust.

“Really? San, is it true? You found a good spot?”

I nodded, lowering the backpack. “There were places to hide, and it looked surprisingly comfortable,” I said. In the end, I hadn’t actually witnessed Mr. Arai letting Sansho out of the bag. I’d waited a little distance away, pacing over tree roots and vaguely imagining I could evade some of the responsibility.

Kitae continued to look mournful even once we were all back in the car. As I gripped the steering wheel, I could hear her sniffing and Mr. Arai murmuring something in a low voice, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“I don’t want fritters tonight,” I said as soon as I got home. I’d been trying to think of what I could put between me and my husband, but I hadn’t come up with anything.

“Oh. Why?” my husband said languidly. He already had the pan on the stove and was prepping the food with long chopsticks in hand as usual.

“It makes me feel fuzzy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”