Kenzaburo Oe - Death by Water

Ricchan tiptoed over and tried the door to Unaiko’s room, finding it locked from the inside. She crept down the dimly lit staircase to the first-floor lobby. There was nobody around, but she could see a light burning in the window of a nearby building, which she recognized as the bungalow that housed Daio’s office. She dashed out into the stormy darkness without stopping to look for a raincoat or even an umbrella, and ran along the roughly cobblestoned path as fast as her bare feet could carry her.

Arriving at the office, Ricchan found Daio sprawled on the sofa at the rear of the small room, still fully dressed. He had just grabbed a hefty two-liter bottle of shochu from a square table nearby and was sloshing what was apparently the latest in a long series of refills into his cup. When he saw Ricchan standing there in her nightclothes, soaked to the skin, he didn’t utter a word of greeting, nor did he ask any questions. He simply got to his feet, walked over to the entryway where he’d left his tall rubber boots, and pulled them on. The khaki work jacket he had been wearing earlier was hanging nearby, and he put it on, too. Then he returned to the sofa, where a red leather trunk was resting on one of the end cushions. Daio unfastened the trunk, reached inside, extracted something wrapped in a lightweight rain parka, and dropped it into one of the large inside pockets of his coat. Holding the object in place with his one hand, he shot Ricchan a brief glance. His face wore a singular expression, and she didn’t know how to interpret it. Then, without even bothering to switch on the flashlight he carried, Daio strode outside and headed for the main building through the pelting rain.

Ricchan remained behind in the office, sitting on one of the chairs around the square table. After some time had passed she heard two gunshots ring out in rapid succession, but she stayed where she was, frozen in place. A few moments later Daio returned and, standing with his back to the open door, he spoke to Ricchan in a gentle voice.

“I shot Mr. Koga,” he announced matter-of-factly. “I had some bullets left over, but I didn’t see any reason to harm the bodyguard.” With that, Daio laid the slicker-wrapped bundle containing the pistol on the floor in front of him. He told Ricchan to stash the murder weapon in her car until daybreak and then take it to the police station.

“When Kogito gets up in the morning,” Daio went on, “would you please give him a message for me?”

Ricchan quickly grabbed a pen and some paper from the jumble on the table and began to take notes.

“I know this theory may sound crazy, Kogito,” Daio began, “and it only occurred to me just now, but here goes nothing. On that stormy night sixty-some years ago, when I hid and watched the little rowboat setting out on the flooded river, I thought at first that you — who would have been the natural choice to follow in your father’s footsteps — were in the boat beside him. Sensei was probably thinking that if his successor, his only son, had perished along with him in the river, it would have been the end of the line. But Sensei made you help with the preparations — I think this is an extremely important point — and together you equipped the red leather trunk with a flotation device, so even if the boat were to capsize, the trunk wouldn’t sink. As a child who had grown up along the river, you were a highly proficient swimmer, and as long as there was something for you to hang on to (namely, the red leather trunk), there would have been no need to worry that you might drown. As for Sensei himself, I think he actually wanted to die, and he probably thought the spirit possessing him would somehow be transferred into you, as his one true heir. Looking back on it now, I think maybe the father and son setting out together into the flood tide in a small boat was meant as a ritual, which Sensei hoped would somehow allow the spirit to be transferred to his son. What I mean is, Sensei must have believed his plan would cause you to replace him as the medium or channeler for that spirit.

“But when it came time to join your father on the boat, you somehow managed to bungle that simple action (or maybe on some unconscious level you deliberately messed up). Instead of embarking on the flooded river with your father, you stood and watched as the boat disappeared into the waves with an apparition of your otherworldly playmate, Kogii, standing next to your father. (I know I shared a different theory about this the other day, but this one just feels right to me.) A while ago, when I was firing the pistol — I may have only one arm, but I’m a damned good shot — I had a sudden sense that the very same spirit that had possessed Choko Sensei had taken up residence in me, and I was its new vessel. I know I’m ever so late, Kogito, but I’m going to join your father. I guess it’s kind of like when the Sensei character in Kokoro finally committed junshi to follow the emperor into death. That’s right — after all is said and done, Choko Sensei’s number one disciple is still poor old Gishi-Gishi, now and forevermore!”

With that, Daio bent over and took off his rubber boots. Then he extracted a pair of sturdy hiking boots from a nearby shoe shelf, put them on, stood up, and marched into the night without a backward glance. It was still pitch-dark, and the storm was raging unabated.

Ricchan watched from the doorway as Daio climbed into a big, old Mercedes-Benz sedan parked at the rear of the main building and drove off down the road between the fields. Her encounter with the vigilante version of Daio had been very stressful for Ricchan. Once he was gone, though, she began to worry about Akari and she ran to the other building in her bare feet, sobbing all the way.

Asa paused to catch her breath, then continued her account of what had transpired while I was sleeping.

“Unaiko is in shock right now — I mean, who wouldn’t be? We moved her into Ricchan’s room, and she finally went to sleep. Needless to say, the show will not go on today. We’ve already gotten the word out about the cancellation through various channels. I also called Chikashi to let her know you and Akari are safe. In the course of the conversation, we talked a bit about Unaiko’s future as well. (That may seem odd at a time like this, but you know how I am.) No doubt the media will go crazy over this story, so it probably won’t be possible for Unaiko to resume her work in the theater for a while, at least. And, needless to say, after what happened to her last night there’s a chance she might be pregnant again. That’s the worst-case scenario, of course, but if it does come to pass, I’m not sure anyone would be able to persuade her to get another abortion. (Of course, you know how I feel about abortions, so I can’t pretend to be objective.) If Unaiko and her nice boyfriend, Tatsuo Katsura, should decide to hide out at the Forest House until the baby was born, I would of course do anything I could to help along the way. When I asked Chikashi whether it would be okay to continue the current financial arrangements vis-à-vis the Forest House, with you covering the operating expenses, she kindly gave her blessing. Of course, this is pure speculation. With luck, Unaiko won’t turn out to be pregnant and life can go on more or less as usual, although she will surely need some time to recover psychologically. As for the physical aspect, we’re standing by to take her to the hospital as soon as she wakes up.

“Chikashi was wondering how the members of the theater group would make a living if their normal activities were suspended, even temporarily, and she asked me to talk to Ricchan about whether she might come live in Tokyo for a while and continue her work as Akari’s music teacher. I handed the phone to Akari then, and he said, ‘That’s good, because the piano at the junior high school is out of tune.’ Ricchan is on board with the plan, so it sounds as if her move to Tokyo is practically a done deal.”