Chapter 20

CONJOINING CHAPTER The Commentator: Or Perhaps an Informant’s Monologue Shinjuku—several years ago Hi, how have you been? If I’m being honest, I don’t actually care. Maybe you’ve been on top of the world, or maybe you’ve been frozen with despair and ennui. It doesn’t matter to me. But what do you want with me? Getting involved with this ne’er-do-well will only lead to misfortune. I’m sure you’re old enough to understand that by now, right? Oh, it’s about the Headless Rider again? We talked about what to do if you encounter the Headless Rider in person before…in Ikebukuro, as I recall. I mentioned that people react in a variety of ways when faced with the abnormal—whether monster or alien or even a fellow human being. When it comes to other humans, the results will differ depending on whether the subject is a person you’re meeting in the flesh or a person who’s only been a vague, shadowy rumor. Human imagination is stimulated the most when it attempts to grasp something that is unknown and unidentified but which undeniably exists. If you’ve shared a conversation with the Headless Rider, then there’s nothing vague about its existence. You might not know what it is, but you know that it is. You’d know it’s an intelligent being capable of conversation. That’s all it takes to eliminate that vagueness, but you’ll never get that far if you haven’t met the person. If someone said, The Headless Rider’s pretty cool and understands Japanese fluently, the hypothetical listener who has never seen this figure would only take that statement at face value if they truly trusted the speaker. This is where we reach a kind of branching point. Obviously, the Headless Rider is an anomaly in our society, right? It’s obvious from the writhing shadows and horse-turned-silent-motorbike that present-day science cannot understand it. Many people think it’s all just a fancy trick, while others think, This means the entire world will change… Perhaps half of them are afraid and half of them are excited. Meanwhile, all the atheists and skeptics of the paranormal are shitting their pants over it. Actually, I shouldn’t lump them together; I’ve seen atheists who think paranormal phenomena could be real, and I’ve seen devout religious folks who deny any possible existence of the paranormal. But setting that aside…that’s where you’ll find a world that surpasses human understanding. People respond to such a world in various ways. For example, one emotion might be…admiration. Were you expecting me to say fear? That might be the ordinary answer. However, some people admire the inexplicable and find excitement in what science cannot explain. They’re real, and they’re out there. Furthermore, these individuals feel society has trapped them on all sides; they’re stuck in a situation they cannot deny or escape. They might wish for the entire world to be a lie—that the real world is a much better place for them. But nothing changes, does it? They have neither the power nor the will to escape on their own. So instead, they yearn. For what? A chance! It doesn’t matter how trifling it might be—they want a chance to turn the world upside down! Haven’t you ever used your imagination? What if I had special powers? What if I could run faster? What if I was stronger? What if I was smarter? What if I was more attractive? What if I could sing better? What if I could draw better? What if I could understand how other people feel? What if I had psychic abilities? It starts off as the most insignificant desires. A yearning for a version of yourself in possession of something else. However, that eventually morphs into hatred of reality. The discontent at your own powerlessness builds as you find you are unable to escape yourself. We’re not talking about comic book powers like shooting flames from your hands. It could be something as mundane as a bullied child finding the little courage it takes to confide in someone, or an abused child at home finding the tiny malice needed to give their parent a little push from the top of the stairs, or even the meager literary ability to write a diary of fantasies about all the ways your hated enemy could die. But if I’m being honest, it doesn’t have to stem from such dark emotions—some people out there get so tired of how boring everyday life is. All those various frustrations with reality eventually converge on the same wish: If I can’t change, then the world should change instead. What would you do if the thing that might bring change to the world suddenly showed up on the TV screen? Something capable of breaking through the laws of physics and the common sense of society. Something capable of changing the very structure of the world. Just think about it. Let’s say the Headless Rider is a ghost, and that fact could be proved. That would prove the existence of an afterlife. And once that’s understood, it would completely change the world. I wonder if there would be fewer people committing suicide or more? If you knew life after death was absolutely guaranteed, would you kill yourself, feeling secure in that knowledge? Or would you despair at the thought of your consciousness continuing after death and decide against it? Of course, it’s not exactly fair to use such childish examples, but human beings allow their lives to be dictated by very foolish things. Maybe the people who see the greatest importance in the Headless Rider are not those who have met the rider in person but the ones who are watching from a slight distance instead. To a certain kind of person, the Headless Rider represents hope. Everyone has to deal with certain undeniable realities. Ultimately, it comes down to how each person chooses to react. Some people will reject certain realities and refuse to accept them, while others might give up and go along with the very same realities. Some might even embrace them, of course. Everyone deals with a reality they cannot escape, to some extent. So no matter what path you choose, each one represents the contours of a human life. I wouldn’t deny you that choice—even if the rest of the world would call it a terrible mistake. Because, you see, I love human beings. Present day—morning, Tatsugami household “Himeka, you’re doing all right, aren’t you?” asked Himeka Tatsugami’s mother in a tremulous voice. She looked slightly older than her years, and her face was worn-out. “You aren’t going to disappear on us, are you?” Himeka had an older and younger sister, both missing. The two of them had said, “I might be able to meet the Headless Rider,” shortly before they vanished. Half a month had passed since anyone had last seen them. The family submitted missing persons reports to the police, who had made no progress on finding them. With two of her daughters going missing at once, there was no wonder Himeka’s mother looked worn-out. But Himeka knew that her mother was suffering long before this happened. And even if both sisters were safe and sound, nothing about her mother’s health would change. The woman wasn’t just tired. She was broken. Himeka would never say so aloud, but she had always known. “Please, Himeka, I’m begging you. Don’t leave me on my own. Especially not with him.” Himeka was well aware, of course, that “him” referred to her father. And she was very familiar with the way the statement was delivered—not to Himeka’s face but toward the wall of the hallway, forehead pressed against its surface, muttered through clenched teeth. This behavior had persisted for several years. Her mother didn’t speak with her forehead grinding against the wall all the time. It was more like a kind of spasm that happened about once a day. The frequency hadn’t increased after her daughters went missing, either. If anything, the utter, unaffected consistency made Himeka sad to think about. But as sad as it was, Himeka’s expression did not distort with grief. She was as cold and flat as ever while she stroked her mother’s back. “It’s all right, Mom. They’ll be back very soon.” Either in response to Himeka or entirely by a coincidence of timing, her mother muttered, “It’s the Headless Rider’s fault.” “…” Himeka said nothing as her mother mumbled and muttered under her breath to no one in particular. “That thing took Aya and Ai… It’s taking everything from me! Aaaaaah!” she screamed, her voice rising hysterically. Himeka wrapped her arms around her mother’s torso. “It’s all right. It’ll be all right, Mom.” These words washed over her mother like nothing. She continued hurling her words against the wall. “I knew it… I knew I should have killed them to stop them from going… I should have done whatever it took…” “Mom…” “It’s true… I asked about it on the Internet…and everyone said such horrible things to me. Such incomprehensible things. I’m sure it was all the Headless Rider’s doing. You understand, Himeka.” Despite being barely aware of her presence, Himeka’s mother repeated her name throughout the screed. Himeka looked on her with neither anger nor mourning. This was daily life to her—something she simply had to accept. Although acceptance in this case was more like resignation. And in the midst of the life she’d resigned herself to, she came into contact with something alien in her environment. Not alien in the usual way, like the Headless Rider was. Alien like a monster who took the form of a harmless-looking boy: Yahiro Mizuchi.