The boy nodded. “A thin girl with long hair?”
“Yes—pale skin, with a mole under her left eye,” Saeki said, remembering the photograph on her student ID. But how long would he be able to hold up his end of this conversation? The boy clearly suspected him. He was getting more and more uncomfortable, as if there was an arm slowly tightening around his neck.
“Are you okay? You look pale.”
“I’m not feeling all that hot, no.”
“Wait there—I’ll be right over.”
The boy left the fence, walking quickly toward the park entrance. On the way, he picked up his school bag, which he’d left next to the swings. Once out on the road, he came back toward Saeki, looking concerned.
Saeki wiped the tension-fueled sweat from his brow with one sleeve.
“Since yesterday … I’ve been feeling pretty sick.”
“I do apologize for making you talk with me in such a condition. I said I wouldn’t take up much of your time, but it seems I have … Perhaps we should find someplace where you can sit down?”
“Yes …” Saeki pretended to think about it for a moment, but he already knew what he would answer. “I suppose my house would be closest.”
He planned to take a few steps and feign a dizzy spell, almost falling over. The boy would come running over, and he would take advantage of this, convincing the boy to help him home. Then Saeki would kill the boy, checking the boy’s pockets at his leisure. But he didn’t even need to do any acting.
“You don’t look well—should I walk you home?” the boy frowned, not wanting to tax Saeki unduly. Convenient.
“Please. This way …”
They walked together, Saeki with his shoulders hunched and shivering occasionally. He did feel pretty terrible, so it wasn’t hard for him to pretend he was sick.
As they walked, Saeki tried to figure out just who this boy was. He had apperared in front of him out of nowhere, and he was now walking with him. What should he do when they reached the house? How should he kill the boy?
Once again, Saeki felt himself getting dizzy. Before he even knew it, he had started thinking about killing the boy with the same methodical detachment he used when he thought about work.
There was a pure part of his heart begging him not to do anything else this horrific. But if the boy had picked up his badge and guessed at the connections between him and the girl, then Saeki had no choice—he had to kill him. Otherwise, the world would find out about the horrible things he had done.
What would people he worked with think when they found out the real Saeki was a terrifying monster? That the man who had brought flowers in from his garden to brighten up the office was really a killer, a creature not worth spitting on? Would this knowledge sadden them? Infuriate them? His ears echoing with their revulsion, Saeki would be so overcome with shame that he would only be able to stare at his own feet, the flames of shame burning all around him.
He could never let that happen. The boy had to die. He squeezed his eyes shut, telling himself this again, trying not to cry.
They were at his home in no time. He didn’t remember what they had talked about on the way there, but he felt like they had both avoided anything significant.
“Nice house,” the boy said, looking up at it.
“Yeah, but an old one. Come on in.”
They went through the gate. It was always open so the car could get in and out. The boy stopped in the driveway, looking at the garage next to the house. The garage doors were open, and the front of a black car was facing them. Saeki had cleaned all trace of the girl from the back seat. There was no blood, no hair, nothing left. He had left the garage door open afterward.
“Is that your only car? Then you live alone, right?”
“Yes.”
The boy looked at the garden.
“That’s a lot of trees.”
“My hobby. Like my own little forest.”
After asking permission, the boy turned back into the garden. Saeki followed after him.
Under the cloudy sky, everything Saeki had grown looked as though it were dark green. The boy passed a row of evergreens, sounding impressed. “This is quite a big garden!”
Just past the evergreens, the garden opened up. This was the space on the south side of the house, between the porch and the wall. Several flower beds were framed by stones, but nothing grew there now. There was only the dry earth.
And over by the wall, there were several bamboo poles. Where the morning glories had been, there was scattered straw, and underneath that …
“No trees here?”
“Keeping the view from the porch.”
… Underneath that was the girl and whatever remained of Kousuke.
The bamboo poles stood in a row along the wall, unmoving. The boy had not yet focused his attention on them, only perceiving them as part of the garden. But what if the girl in the ground grabbed the end of the pole and shook it? The boy would see it moving strangely and go to investigate.
Saeki had to end this before that happpened. He told the boy to sit on the porch.
“I’ll get some tea,” he said, stepping up onto the porch and heading inside.
“I wonder where Morino disappeared to … ?” he heard the boy mutter. Saeki froze in his tracks, staring at the boy’s back.
“I’m not quite sure how to explain this, but she gives off some sort of … pheromone that attracts strange people,” the boy said, turning to look up at Saeki. It was obvious he had intended his muttered comment to be overheard. “Walking around in a cloud of those pheromones means those abnormal individuals often come after her.”
“Wait a moment—I’ll just get that tea,” Saeki said, leaving the boy. He could not be sure if the boy had deliberately brought the subject up to distract him, but there had been something sinister lurking behind the boy’s tone.
As he boiled water for the tea in the kitchen, Saeki took a kitchen knife out of the drawer. He could think of no other weapons to kill someone with.
The blue fire on his gas stove began heating the water in the kettle. He placed a cup and a teapot on a tray and the knife next to them. He gazed down at the metallic sheen of the blade, trying to imagine himself swinging it down to attack the boy on the porch from behind. The blade shimmered, reflecting the light of the burner. He was only making one cup of tea, so there wasn’t a lot of water, and it began to boil quickly.
Saeki put his hand on the edge of the sink, steadying himself. Otherwise, he couldn’t have remained upright. Nothing of the sweet sensation he had felt while burying the girl was left. Instead, he felt terrible, like he was living a nightmare. Everything he saw, everything he touched seemed to be giving off the stench of rot. But the ugliest thing of all was himself. He had killed Kousuke, he had buried that girl alive, and now he was about to stab this boy. Compared with the strength of the girl’s belief in her boyfriend, his own heart seemed so pathetic. His nightmare had begun the moment he’d killed Kousuke.
Or perhaps he had been doomed to this nightmare the moment he had been born. The moment he had been granted life, his soul may well have been possessed by the unavoidable urge to murder.
The water boiled, steam pouring out of the mouth of the kettle. Saeki reached to turn off the flame and realized …
Kousuke …
Steam rose, the water in the kettle boiling furiously.
What had Kousuke looked like … ?
Saeki could not remember the face of the young boy he had killed. Although he had gone with him to the park and they had played together any number of times, Saeki retained no memories of him, as if the boy had been disposable.
What was wrong with him? He no longer knew. Part of him was a good citizen who tried to be nice to people, but another part of him was a monster who buried people alive for fun. These two fought like multiple personalities, but they were not different people—they were connected, aligned, the same.
But in that case, who was he then? Who was the man he had thought he was? He could no longer believe in himself, so what could he believe in?
He picked the knife up off the tray, his hand trembling …
He turned off the stove and filled the pot. Then he headed toward the boy on the porch.
Saeki walked quietly. As he turned the corner, he was in sight of the porch, and he could see the boy’s back. The boy was facing the garden, sitting on the porch.
In his hand was a cell phone, held to his ear. Was he calling the police? For a moment, Saeki was terrified.
He crept quietly forward.
Saeki could hear the boy talking on the phone. From his tone, he was not talking to the police, but to a friend.
As he stood behind the boy, the boards under Saeki’s feet creaked.
The boy turned around, hanging up. “Saeki, that took ages!” the boy said. “And you look even sicker …”
Saeki put the tray down next to the boy. “Yes, well … I’m getting very dizzy …” He poured the tea into the cup.
He had to fight the terrifying beast that lurked within his heart. He held the cup out to the boy, silently making up his mind.
He had left the knife in the kitchen. When he realized he could not remember Kousuke’s face, he felt like he had no choice. This seemed to be the only escape from the nightmare.
The boy took the cup. White steam rose from the pale green liquid, vanishing into the air. He watched it for a while, and then he put the cup down without drinking.
“Saeki, I have good news,” the boy sighed, looking slightly relieved. “Morino did go missing yesterday, but apparently she just came home.”