Masatsugu Ono - Lion Cross Point

“Takeru!”

The sound of Ken’s voice made Takeru jump.

“Shocked t’see me?” said Ken, laughing.

“You off work already?” Mitsuko asked Ken.

“Finished ’bout three. I was washin’ the company truck,” said Ken. “But more interestin’ than that—Ito Fisheries caught a dolphin in one of their nets.”

“That’s strange,” Mitsuko said.

“Yeah, that’s why I came over,” said Ken. “Takeru, you want t’come and have a look? I can take ya.”

“What?” asked Takeru, looking up at Ken. “Now? To see the dolphin they caught?”

“Yeah.”

“But we’re still going to Dolphin Village tomorrow, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” Mitsuko intervened. “You’ll see lots of dolphins tomorrow. There’s no harm in not goin’ today.”

“Well… thing is, Mitsuko,” said Ken awkwardly, “there was that storm the other day…”

“The one that blocked the road?”

“Yeah. That storm hit Dolphin Village. I found out yesterday from my friend who has that yellowtail farm o’er in Shishinome.”

“Hit? You mean it was damaged?”

“Some huge waves came smashin’ into the bay and ripped the nettin’ of the dolphin pen. A lot of ’em escaped.”

“The dolphins escaped?” exclaimed Takeru.

“That’s what I heard. And now they’re eating all the fish in the fishin’ grounds. It’s a real problem.”

Mitsuko looked mystified.

“If it was such a big problem you’d think it’d been in the newspaper. I read it every day, but I ain’t seen nothing ’bout that.”

“Can’t say,” said Ken. “Don’t look at the newspapers much. But that was what my friend told me. And I figure the one they caught must’ve been from Dolphin Village. That’d make sense.”

“I wonder,” said Mitsuko dubiously. “Just ’cause a dolphin’s escaped doesn’t mean it’s gonna swim straight into a net. They’re supposed to be clever, ain’t they?”

“They can cure people,” said Takeru.

Neither Mitsuko nor Ken was listening.

“Well, anyway, it’s my day off tomorrow so I’ll take Takeru and Saki to Dolphin Village, and if it’s closed we’ll go on a bit farther to the prefectural aquarium. It’ll be quick on the highway and there’s lots t’see there. That’d be ’kay, right Takeru?”

“Do they have dolphins?” asked Takeru.

“Course. And they’ve got otters and sea lions too. They have a dolphin show, and a sea lion show as well. That’ll work, won’t it?”

“Yes,” said Takeru. “It’s fine by me. But what about Saki?”

“If it’s ’kay with you, I’m sure Saki won’t mind,” said Ken.

“Yeah,” said Mitsuko. “It’ll be good, Takeru. Just next to the aquarium there’s a place where they feed wild monkeys. Get Ken to take ya there too.”

“I think I’ve seen enough monkeys,” said Takeru, looking slightly embarrassed. “There are lots around here.”

“That’s true,” said Mitsuko, smiling.

“And we’ve got Hii-chan too,” said Ken.

Takeru laughed as he pictured the old man’s monkey-like features.

“Don’t go sayin’ things like that!” said Mitsuko, though she was laughing as well.

The next day Ken came to pick them up at 8:30 as promised. Saki had gotten up early and come over to Mitsuko’s house at 7:00 for breakfast.

The children were ready in good time and sat waiting eagerly for Ken to arrive. There had been rain overnight, but it had stopped around dawn, and by the time they got into the car there were just a few dark clouds left in the sky to the east.

The village always stank of the sea. The stench of rotting shellfish hung heavy in the air, especially after rain. Driving around the bay, the smell of the sea never left your nostrils, even with the windows closed, and the road wound on endlessly, so Takeru had always felt carsick when he first arrived. But that didn’t last long. You could get used to a smell even if you hated it. You could probably get used to a place too, Takeru thought, if you lived there long enough—even a place you hated, detested.

They turned right at the bus stop. Old Tsuru was already sitting there, the spot already bathed in sunshine. Tsuru saw them and lifted his hand. But no. He wasn’t acknowledging Takeru, Saki, or Ken, but something bigger. But now Takeru was inside that big thing, so why not say Tsuru was acknowledging him? Takeru guessed that in Tsuru’s raised fist was his glass eye. Takeru didn’t know if that eye would see, but he raised his own hand and gave a little wave in Tsuru’s direction.

Takeru was looking out the window. There was nothing remarkable about the color of the sky or the shapes of the clouds. That sky could have been anywhere. He looked toward the hills beyond the bay. They were covered in trees. Birds, animals, and insects lived there, but he couldn’t see them or sense them. The sea was a perfectly normal dark blue. Fish, crabs, and octopuses lived there, but he couldn’t see them or sense them either. He saw the long quay floating on the bay. There were birds walking on it and flying above it—big herons and seedy-looking hawks with missing feathers. Sometimes they landed on the narrow shoulder of the coast road and lingered for a while. He looked at the shapes of people’s houses, the colors of the roofs, and the sunlight they reflected. The narrow road. The slanting telephone poles. The black, sagging telephone wires. He was part of this landscape now, so his mother must also hate him.

The houses became fewer and farther between. The road curved in and out along the coast from one village to the next. It was narrow and had no center line.

The speed limit was 30 kmph, but Ken knew the curves well and was driving at nearly 50 kmph. He drove very differently than Mitsuko. She always kept within the speed limit. If she saw a car coming up fast in the rearview mirror, she’d mutter: “Oh no, he’s right behind me! I don’t like that. Let’s get rid of him.” When she reached a suitable place, she’d pull over and let her exasperated followers (the people in both the driver and passenger seats were almost always acquaintances) go ahead. “What’s the rush?” she’d say, sharing her mild irritation with Takeru. If a roadside mirror showed a car coming around the curve in the opposite direction, she’d break sharply, nearly stopping, to give the other car space to pass freely. She was very serious about driving safely, especially with a child in the car.

Ken’s car, with Takeru and Saki in the back, drove on, curve after curve. Eventually, Lion Cross Point came into view, jutting sharply out into the sea toward the headland on the far side of the bay. The road followed the coast out toward the Point.

“I still don’t know why it’s called Lion Cross Point, Takeru,” said Ken, “but let me tell ya ’bout something I do know that happened here once. You’ll find it interestin’, both of you.”

“What?” asked Saki, leaning forward.

“It’s ’bout your dad, Tatsuya, and Takeru’s ma, Wakako.”

Takeru had never heard any stories about his mother from when she was young. He listened nervously to what Ken said:

Tatsuya had just bought his first car. He’d left school and had begun working at Kawase Fisheries. He’d managed to save enough to buy a used Skyline R31. He wanted to take it out for a drive, so he asked Wakako to come with him. She was a year younger, in her third year at the local high school.

Takeru couldn’t tell from what Ken was saying whether they had been boyfriend and girlfriend.

Tatsuya had suggested Ken come along with them in his own car (a used Civic), so Ken was following them. Ken was worried that Tatsuya was going a bit too fast—he was an inexperienced driver, taking the bends very wide. It was late (“Your mother wasn’t the studyin’ type,” Ken said), so luckily there wasn’t anyone coming in the opposite direction. Still, it was a dangerous way to drive. Ken’s heart was in his mouth. He felt something was going to happen and then it did.