We hop on that huge sedan. I wonder why such wide cars have been manufactured. Indeed, I am not sure of what the designer was thinking. Fuko puts Kusumi on the driver’s seat, Tokino on the passenger’s seat, and then me on the back seat. She then sits beside me. The car rubs the road with its front end (bumper), its bottom, and its rear end (back fender) one by one. Additionally, the tires are making a screeching noise, the muffler is emitting an explosive sound, and the car accelerates gradually. Too many ceremonies with no substance. Probably, this car packs as much as 700 horsepower. I am suspecting that it is funneling the power to some sort of secret purposes. For example, a screw or a propeller might be rotating on the back of the car. Or, a circular saw installed on the bottom of the car might be rotating to cut the pavement of the road. Judging from the way the engine is generating the sound, it is an eight-cylinder engine. However, once Kusumi reaches for the car stereo and pushes a switch, nothing can be heard anymore as if we are entering the Earth’s atmosphere.
The road runs straight. Lights pass by us on both sides of the road, just about when I almost forget about their presences. Only the vicinities around the lights are vaguely glowing in purple. The drumbeats vibrating my abdomen are about to break the speakers. The scent of perfume from Fuko, who is leaning on me, is about to make my head ache. The owl tattoo on her chest is glaring at me, as if it is cursing the tranquility of the forest which it had been living in.
We stray off the road, enter the forest, and finally climb up a stone-paved slope as if we were advancing in a pool of mud. Between square columns on both sides is a trim steel fence. In the headlights, the fence slowly opens inward. Beyond that, the forest continues for a while. We say nothing. I inhale the fresh air coming through the windows. Of course, I might be just deceived into believing that it is fresh. An illuminated mansion appears, whose entrance our car approaches along the curving road. It looks like a vacation cottage of a rich man. I have seen a mansion like this in a movie just once in the past. It was on fire in the final scene of the movie.
“How do you like it?” Tokino looks back and asks me.
“About what?” I ask back.
“You have also been here a long time ago, right?” Tokino asks, and laughs. I guess that he is intending it to be some sort of joke.
“I’m not sure.” Just for the formality of it, I laugh back at him.
After getting off the car, we walk through a large door, which a doorman dressed up pretentiously is opening for us, and enter the lobby. Three women are looking at us over the railing on the second floor of the open ceiling space. In my imagination, I shoot machine guns to take care of the three immediately. On the right side of the lobby is a carpeted space. It leads to the inner part. Although it is too dark in the deeper part, I can see a part of a counter bar. I hear human voices from the direction.
I pick up a cigarette and light it. I did not smoke in the car. At that point, I have already stopped thinking about anything. It makes me wonder why I can do that.
“Then, later.” Tokino whispers.
“Later? What? What do you mean by that?”
“Unless something happens, we will get back together. It is what the relationship between you and me is about.”
“Is there any chance of something happening?” I ask, just in case. I do not think that my face is showing a smile.
“Fuko will tell you about it.”
“About what?”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“Why would I do that?”
Tokino does not answer, and climbs up the stairs with Kusumi as if they were getting entangled with each other.
“Would you like to have something to drink?” Fuko is standing beside me.
“Yes, if it is not alcoholic.” I reply.
“You mean juice, or something like that?” She widens her eyes. She seems to be startled by something. “What would you like?”
“Anything but vegetables.”
“Vegetables?” Fuko smiles, by showing her white teeth.
She raises a hand to gesture for me to wait, and walks toward the inner part.
One of the women on the second floor is saying something to me, who is left in the lobby. Quite regrettably, I do not understand the language. Probably, it is because she was shot down by me a moment ago. The woman next to her is planting both of her elbows on the railing, and both of her hands are cupping her cheeks. The third one climbs down to the middle of the stairway, sits down on the stair, and crosses her legs. She might be wanting to show off the new pair of her stockings. However, I have almost no knowledge of the functionality for stockings.
“How is Suito?” That woman on the stairway asks.
Because an ashtray is within the vicinity, I approach the base of the stairway a little. While dropping the ash, I look at the woman on the stairs again.
“Suito? Who?” I ask.
She is laughing, and does not answer.
Does she mean Suito Kusanagi? I do not know any other person with that name. I am reminded of her desk I saw this morning for the first time. Such a neat, clean, and accurate desk must be unusual. It is like an aircraft carrier.
Fuko is getting back. She is holding in her hand a glass filled with red liquid in her hand.
“Tomatoes? I’m sorry, but I don’t like tomatoes.”
“No, orange.”
“Orange?”
Even though I am shocked, I tentatively take a sip. It really tastes like orange. The woman on the stairs laughs.
“Are you afraid of tomatoes?” Fuko leans her head sideways, while showing that she is amused.
“Tomatoes are vegetables.” I answer.
Fuko turns around, and is about to climb up the stairs. “You are getting on the way.” Fuko warns to the woman in the middle of the stairway. Fuko looks back at me, so I follow her. The woman who has just moved back to the wall on the stairway, greets me, “Welcome, boy.” to me, who is walking by.
-7-
“If you are here, then it means that Jinroh is dead. Right?” Fuko, sitting on the bed, says.
“I’m not sure ...” I reply. “Because I don’t know who Jinroh is.”
“Jinroh said basically the same thing on his first day.”
“How long had he been here?” After putting on a shirt, I light the first cigarette in a long time, and walk toward the window. I first see the sky. It is my most favorite of things outside.
“For about half a year.”
The courtyard surrounded by this U-shaped building is being illuminated. It seems to be covered with white sand. A strange pattern is drawn on it, and modern-looking stone lanterns are placed. Over the courtyard is a bamboo forest. I am not sure how far it stretches. I do not think it is natural, though.
“Would you like to drink something?”
“I want coffee, if it is available.”
“No problem. Sure thing.”
Fuko gets up from the bed, and walks to the cabinet.
“For how long has Tokino been here?” I ask.
“About a year, I think.” Fuko answers without looking at me.
“And you? How long?”
Fuko slowly looks back at me and smiles, while biting her lips.
“‘And you?’ You ask me. You mean, me? That’s funny ...”
“Oh really?” I lean my head sideways with a serious look. “I think only you and I are here.”
“You are saying ‘you and I’ ...” Fuko chuckles and looks away. “Like a child.”
I look outside the window again. The sky is clear. The stars are vividly clear. It is as if there is another sky above the cloud.
“Are you getting angry?” Fuko whispers.
I look back at her. She is gazing at me with a serious look on her face.
“Why?” I ask back.
“Are you getting angry, because I just said ‘Like a child.’ ...?”
“I’m a child.” I utter, and then smile.
That is the way it is, because I am a professional pilot. It is a profession that adults cannot take. Does she think that such a remark would make me angry? Or, perhaps, late Jinroh used to get angry with this sort of thing. That has got to be it. I can get angry if I try. That is what I am thinking, while I am tracing the logic backward.
I mean, it goes like this: They regard becoming adults as an ability. They think that staying young and remaining to be children are considered to be the lack of the ability to become adults. If they make the stand on the issue, based on the logic, they can look down on the children like us. That is the basis for such a mechanism of the society, I guess.
However, is it not that becoming adults is equivalent to aging, climbing down the mountain, and approaching the bottom of a gorge named death.
I am just wondering ...
Are people really afraid of death?
I always think about it, while casting doubts on it. I used to think about it when I was observing my parents, adults, and elderly people close to me. Are people afraid of dying? Do they continue to live while being frightened? It seems that I cannot discover such signs of tendencies.
What do ordinary adults think about the children like us who were born unexpectedly? How do they observe us? How can they incorporate the very notions into their lives the fact that children like us die in wars, even though it is our duty? What are they accepting?
Dying while remaining to be children.
Dying after becoming adults and aging.