The wind brought snatches of laughter from the Flying Pirates ride overhead.
Their fight had ended the ghostly disturbances of the Toshima Amusement Park
pools without incident. Well, perhaps not quite without incident. It had left witnesses dumbfounded, and Yuzuru and the others had hurried out in order to avoid drawing further attention to themselves. However, a portion of the park visitors had apparently mistaken the fight for some kind of show, and cheered Chiaki and Ayako like movie stars.
They all met at the park’s picnic area after changing.
“Don’t be so down, Yuiko-hyan.”
Beneath the shade of the trees, Saori was trying her best to console the despondent Yuiko, who was crushed with self-loathing at the thought of the way she had lost control again and the awful things she had done while possessed. Nothing Saori said seemed to be making much of a difference in Yuiko’s mood.
“I understand how you feel,” Ayako murmured sympathetically, “it was just...” It certainly wasn’t as if Yuiko had wanted to be possessed, and Ayako really didn’t blame her, but...
“Cheer up, Yuiko-san,” Yuzuru said next to them, unable to just stand by and watch any longer. Having gone through the same experience, he couldn’t help but sympathize.
“We can’t change what’s already happened. I know how painful it is to have a stranger controlling your body, but all you can do is to try your best from this point forward. So that even if you’re possessed again, you won’t allow yourself to be controlled.”
“But...” Yuiko protested uneasily, casting down her eyes, “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I can ever get used to something like that.”
“You can’t think about it like that. This is your body. If you truly regret what’s happened—if you really don’t want it to happen again, then you have to tell yourself that you won’t let anybody else take it over,” Yuzuru insisted, smiling encouragingly as if willing self-confidence into Yuiko. “Okay?”
Yuiko looked up at Yuzuru, biting her lip, before finally nodding “yes.” Relieved, Yuzuru nodded back.
“All right,” Ayako said, looking away into the distance, “The problem now is Kagetora...”
“...”
Expression grim, Yuzuru followed Ayako’s gaze in the direction Chiaki had taken Takaya.
Chiaki’s punch to Takaya’s face was hard enough to send him reeling back into a tree. Takaya glared fiercely at Chiaki, a hand pressed against his cheek.
“You idiot, you think you have time to go around acting like a spoiled brat?!” Chiaki gritted out, struggling to contain his anger. “What the hell were you thinking? Do you have any idea what it means when you lose control? You’re not just some punk off the street throwing a few punches!”
“...”
“If you’d kept going, I guarantee you that you would’ve killed some of those innocent bystanders. Not to mention Yuiko. ...Not that it really matters to me who you kill. It just pisses me off seeing you act like a spoiled kid.”
Takaya only glowered back at Chiaki defiantly. Eyes cold, Chiaki demanded, “What happened?”
“...”
“What happened between you and Naoe?”
Takaya’s shoulders twitched, and he looked away, flustered. “None of your damn business.”
“Something you can’t even talk about?”
Takaya glared at Chiaki sharply. Chiaki pressed grimly, relentlessly, “Is that why there’s been no word from him lately? For the same reason you’ve been flying off the handle for the past couple of days?”
“How the hell would I know?!” Takaya shouted back. “I...a guy like that...how...”
“—‘the hell would you know?’” Chiaki snapped in response. “Why don’t you tell me then: what have you known about him?”
“...!”
His fists clenched in anger. Chiaki only stared back at him motionlessly.
“The very sight of you amazes me.”
“Wh...”
“This ignorance of yours, is it just obtuseness through and through? Or is it deliberate? I wonder. If ignorance is a sin, then the sin is yours.”
The meaning of his words eluded Takaya. Chiaki studied Takaya appraisingly. “So you are just that thick.”
“...I...”
“I thought it might end up like this. I mean, the way he parted with Kagetora thirty years ago. And the fact that Naoe could be so calm when he was finally reunited with you? That in itself was strange. And you, memoryless and ignorant to boot... Damn it, I guarantee you were the one who stirred him up, Kagetora. But I’m pretty sure it was just a matter of time, too. So what do you think of that?”
Chiaki gave the pale, silent Takaya a sidelong glance and snorted lightly. “Humph. You can’t believe it? You wanna say that it’s insane? Well, it probably is insane.”
“I don’t know! How the hell would I...!”
“You do know. You just don’t wanna admit it.”
Takaya stopped breathing. He looked at Chiaki: Chiaki, who took nothing seriously, was looking back at him with complete seriousness. He had driven Takaya back against the tree step by step.
“Your ignorance is nothing but evasion. That or self-protection. You know, but you lie to yourself and tell yourself that you don’t.”
“... Chiaki.”
“The sin is yours, Kagetora.”
Takaya’s eyes widened abruptly.
“You ran like this thirty years ago, too. You kept evading and avoiding what was inconvenient for you. ...That’s how you drove him mad. Isn’t it?”
“—I...”
“You’re the hypocrite, Kagetora. You put on this mask, pretend that you’re the only one of us who’s still sane. You act like you can still be an ‘honest, upright human being’ after living for four hundred years. But we‘ve all turned into demons already. Isn’t that right? Being alive for four centuries isn’t exactly conducive to staying sane. Of course we’re lunatics. So how about you, huh? Did it eat at you? Did it hurt? You ran away, and now you’re the only one who can live in comfort, but who gets to wipe your ass for you? You ever think about that? ’You don’t know?’ Screw you. You never wanted to know. You pretend you don’t know so you can avoid all the uncomfortable things, ignore everything that’s inconvenient for you... Have you ever even truly, genuinely thought about him...?!”
Takaya stiffened, still glaring with all his might at Chiaki.
“...I do think about him...”
“Stop lying! You never thought about anything except finding a place to hide. How to conveniently interpret things to your liking, how to escape. You weren’t thinking about him—you were trying to figure out how to protect yourself. That’s how you drove him mad, and you’re the victim? Yeah right. You’re nowhere close to being on the victim side of the damn equation here.”
“I do think about him!” Takaya yelled. “I think about him every day, I’m always thinking about him! I can’t even...!”
“That’s bull! All you ever think about is finding a way to escape. You’ve never thought about how you can save him. You wanna pretend you’re the only normal one here, but in the end you’re just another conceited, selfish little lordling who thinks nothing about sacrificing people. Screw you, Kagetora. You’re not even conscious of your own sins...but you’re the one who’ll fall to hell first, you bastard!”
Takaya was frozen speechlessly in place. “Chiaki...”
“I don’t know what happened between you and Naoe in Toyama, but if you wanna know about him that much, let him do what he wants to do more than anything else. Then you’ll know him plenty well. You and your fucking superiority complex.”
Takaya’s fists shook.
“...”
Unable to endure any longer, Takaya abruptly turned his back on Chiaki and walked away. He didn’t look back.
He left alone through the park exit, and Chiaki didn’t chase after him. He only looked at Takaya’s receding figure...and let him go without a murmur.
That’s only because you do not know me.
The words Naoe had spoken at the “river embankment” in Toyama echoed endlessly in his memory.
The tears he had seen on Naoe’s face then... now swelled beneath his own eyelids—and drove him to fury.
Something within him had started crumbling that day. That day.
For there had been a man who had used his own body as a shield to protect him from flying shards of glass.
He was the one those shards should have struck. He had always thought it a matter of course that the part of the shield would be his to play. He had never imagined himself so weak as to need someone else to protect him. Nor did he merit such sacrifice. It was his lot to work for the benefit of those much cleverer than he—those the world needed. He’d assumed that that would be his life, that it was all a miserable idiot like him would be fit to do. He would find work, find someone who could use him, wear down his life for some small amount money, live his life to the best of his ability and die. He was expendable. That was how he had thought of his life.
He had never expected much from his future. And yet... There existed a man who had risked his life to keep him safe, insignificant as he was. What sort of an idiot would waste his life for him? He should be taking care of someone else. Someone worthy. There must be many such people needing protection.
Or maybe... Maybe there was logic to what he‘d done after all. It hadn’t been him that the man had been protecting, no matter the end result. For Naoe, there existed one of far more worth than ’Ougi Takaya’...
(He was protecting ‘Kagetora’...wasn’t he?)
He wanted to thrust Naoe away at the thought. Why, then, did he keep turning as if to make sure Naoe was still beside him? Why was he so terrified of finding only an empty space the next time he turned, yet even more relieved to find him there each time? What was this feeling?
Naoe— Is this running away? Am I still simply trying to protect myself? Am I trying to escape, as Chiaki said? I truly am...a little afraid of understanding you.
You do know. You just don’t wanna admit it.
(Admit it...?)
What Naoe’s actions meant...
Which feelings had he called “a lie?” The loyalty of a vassal towards his master? That was the only thing that made sense, wasn’t it? Did that mean that the loyalty he had shown Kagetora had been a lie...? No. That wasn’t what he had meant. Then what? Was the answer why he had looked at Takaya with such hatred in his eyes?
(I should probably just admit it.)
If he did, if he accepted his doubts as truth, then truth it would likely become.
And yet...
Takaya stood in front of the ubiquitous line of public telephones within the busy, bustling crowd at Ikebukuro Station. The queue swapped with those who had finished their business at the phones, a constantly shifting exchange. Within this busy city where everyone moved at breakneck speed, Takaya alone stood still.
He gripped the receiver and pressed a button, the path of his finger tracing the phone number to the Tachibana residence Naoe had once given him. The phone rang twice, thrice. Takaya waited nervously, counting each terrifyingly long ring tone. But...was no one home? No one answered. He hadn’t been sure about this to begin with. Maybe he didn’t really want anyone to answer after all. His finger reached for the push button to end the call.
There was the sound of the other receiver being picked up, and a slightly distant-sounding voice came back to him.
“Yes? This is Tachibana...”
“Ah, um...” The voice had so startled him that it rendered him speechless for a moment.
“Hello...?”
The voice belonged to a middle-aged woman. Probably his mother. The absolute calmness of the voice drained away Takaya’s tension slightly.
“...Ah, I’m sorry. My name is Ougi. Is Yoshiaki...san...there...?”
“Yoshiaki?” The woman repeated in a somewhat puzzled tone. Then: “just a minute,” he heard, followed by on-hold music.
(What should I do...?)
He was the one who had called, but what should he say when Naoe answered? Naoe hadn’t contacted him at all after leaving Toyama. Takaya hadn’t had any particular purpose in mind when he had picked up the phone; if Naoe asked him “then why did you call?” what could he answer?
(If I could just hear his voice...)
“Hello—...”
His heart stuttered at the voice, but it belonged to the woman who had answered the phone, not Naoe.
“I’m sorry, but Yoshiaki seems to be out. He left early this morning, and left a note saying that he would be going on an extended trip...”
“An extended trip?”
“Yes.” She added in the tone of a worried mother, “Just when I thought he might stay quietly at home for a little while this time, off he goes again. He left with a woman he met yesterday... He’ll probably spend tonight away as well. I don’t mind him going on dates, but staying out for several days at a time... I really worry about that child...”
She sounded very much like the fond mother. He wouldn’t call a man approaching thirty a “child”, he thought, but—well, he couldn’t exactly tell her there was nothing to worry about, could he? After all, having a son who was gone for days at a time without telling anyone where he was going, who came home again with serious injuries and a smashed-up car didn’t exactly contribute to a mother’s peace of mind. Even if she did seem fairly resigned to it by now...
“I can take a message if you would like to leave one for him...”
“Ah, it’s okay... It not that important...”
If the conversation continued and she asked what connection he had to Naoe, what answer could he give? He hurriedly ended the call with thanks and hung up.
His shoulders slumped as he heaved a sigh. Extended trip? What did that mean? And his mother said that he was with a woman. A woman with whom he was staying out overnight.
(And he said he wasn’t seeing anyone...)
Why did it make him so mad? Oh, maybe because he’d been beside himself worrying about Naoe while the man himself was off having fun with some woman?
(What the hell is he thinking?!)
So he was just an idiot for agonizing over everything, after all. Was this the kind of person Naoe was, then? Someone who got himself into a snit, then lashed out at Takaya in an outburst of anger and said whatever hurtful things he wanted?
To hell with this. Let him resolve it however he wants.
(Guess I’m just the idiot who lets himself get pushed around.)
It just proved that Naoe was the one who didn’t think about others, he thought, as reaction to the endless anguish and worry he’d been going through over the past few days flared hot inside him. Rage overtook all other emotions as Takaya turned sharply from the phone. “Screw this.” He headed straight for the JR ticket examination counter.
“You let him go home on his own?!” Yuzuru demanded through gritted teeth upon Chiaki’s return. Ayako, Saori, and Yuiko were wide-eyed at the news as well. “I can’t believe you! Tell me you’re joking! This isn’t like getting home from school!”
“Whatever!” It didn’t sound like Chiaki’s anger from his earlier quarrel had abated either. “He’s not some goddamn kid!” he spat. “If he wants to get back to Matsumoto on his own, he can take the train or whatever the hell he wants. Screw him, dammit. I’ve had enough of this crap. Like I’d keep hanging around a selfish bastard like him anyway.”
“Selfish bastard...? What’re you talking about? Did you two have a fight?”
“A fight? If I could, I would’ve settled all of this a long time ago. That idiot is diving head-first off the deep end. I don’t know what happened to him, but he should just let it happen and be done with it already. It’s not like he’s gonna lose anything. He should just stop making a goddamn fuss about it like some little kid.”
“Huh...?”
Unable to make sense of his rant, Yuzuru and the others just stared at him. “Feh!” Chiaki spat, seething, and turned away.
“So-so what about Takaya? Did he already leave?”
“How the hell would I know? The blockhead can do whatever he goddamn pleases.”
Fuming himself, Yuzuru ran for the entrance. Saori rushed after him.
“Wa-wait, Narita-kuuuuun!”
But by the time Yuzuru started after him, it was too late: Takaya had already taken the earlier train out of Toshima Amusement Park.
Ayako, who had remained behind, glanced at Chiaki seated ill-temperedly on a park bench.
“What are you so worked up about? Don’t tell me you can’t even mediate a fight.”
“Whatever. Just looking at those two pisses me off. Naoe is...Naoe. He’s so freakin’ hot and cold. If he’s gonna give up, then he should just give up already. If he can’t, then he might as well take it all the way. ’Cause that idiot’s so thick he won’t have a clue until it happens.”
“You’ve got a temper like a short fuse. What’ll happen if their lord-retainer relationship cracks apart? It’s because they can’t do what you’re suggesting that I feel sorry for them.”
“You’re still talking about a lord and retainer relationship now? Man, that makes me laugh. Bit too late for that, don’t you think? And if you leave ’em alone, it’ll just be Minako all over again. Admit it. We’re making zero progress here.”
“And since you’re such a thick-skinned guy, you’re okay with that?” Ayako asked resignedly. “Naoe doesn’t want history to repeat itself either, so he’s been wracking his brain trying to figure out what to do.”
“But when you get right down to it, Naoe’s already exhausted every answer he could come up with over the past four hundred years.” Chiaki glared up at the sky. “It’s Kagetora who’s got to come up with the answers now. This time, he can’t just turn tail and run. He’s got to solve this instead of running away.”
“...”
“Even if it means ending everything.”
Ayako gazed grimly at Chiaki’s profile. A roller coaster passing overhead broke the silence and, for just a moment, shadowed the sun blazing down on their skin.
Takaya had the acute feeling that Tokyo was overcrowded. The sight of the masses of people coming and going was unnatural to someone born and raised in Matsumoto. And the so-called speed of the city was almost obscene. The flow of people was like river rapids, and anyone attempting to move against the current became an obstacle and was quickly forced out. He had the distinct impression that a person would get tossed every which way and never reach where he wanted to go without a considerable amount of will.
Takaya felt suffocated as he moved within the crowd in Shinjuku’s underground passage.
(It’s like I can’t breathe...)
He’d apparently run headlong into the evening rush hour crowd. A horrible sense of exhaustion spread like a disease here. None of the people looked like people. Perhaps they didn’t see him as a person, either. But right now he was thankful for that apathy.
He couldn’t avoid running into people who knew him wherever he went in a small city like Matsumoto. Trivial blunders spread through the grapevine in a flash, and before long everyone would be looking at him with contempt and disdain. Those hard gazes had followed him everywhere in junior high.
But blessed apathy reigned here in Tokyo. Though he might be suffocating in this sea of people, his heart was liberated. There was no one to disapprove of him whatever he did. —Perhaps that was all freedom was.
Catching sight of a vagrant sleeping behind a newspaper stand along a wall, Takaya thought: no one is pitied here. So surely he, too, could make a living here.
He climbed a flight of stairs and emerged out of the eastern exit in front of Studio Alta. Complete darkness had already fallen. There was no way to compare Matsumoto and this city; the neon signs, energy, and crowds colored the night. Perhaps it was even more alive now than during the day.
Takaya lit a cigarette from the pack he’d purchased at a vending machine earlier as he took the pedestrian crossing towards Kabuki Town. Though it’d been a while since he’d smoked, memories suddenly layered the smell of the cigarette. This scent—it reminded him of someone...
(Oh...)
He bit lightly into the cigarette.
(...This is your scent...) he suddenly realized, looking blankly up at the neon signs of the red-light district. He would probably scold Takaya if he caught him wandering around in a place like this.
(Fucking idiot...) he cursed himself, and walked on angrily, aimlessly. Loud, lewd invitations, dirty music, whiffs of alcohol, out-of-sight couples and dilapidated old men... College students growing more prodigal as they commingled...
(They’re all idiots.)
Japan’s pre-eminent pleasure quarter was also the destination of Japan’s biggest fools. But of course—
(I’m one of those fools, too.)
He spotted an arcade and went inside. For anyone wanting to be alone without a concern for the time, there was no better place.
(I can do whatever I want.)
He didn’t want to return anywhere tonight, Takaya thought as he slipped into the sea of humanity.
Even the notorious Kabuki Town quieted down as the time for the last train approached. But of course it was never empty, for there were always the drunks passed out on the street and the hard-core carousers determined to party the night away.
It was probably past midnight. Takaya had thrown himself down on the road in front of Koma Theater. He’d gone looking for a drink after leaving the arcade, but for some reason the alcohol had overwhelmed him with dismal speed today. He’d managed to stagger out on dangerously unsteady feet, but didn’t have very clear memories of what happened after that. He’d somehow found himself seated in front of Koma Theater, and the next thing he knew, he was sprawled on his side.
There was a lit cigarette in his mouth, just dangling from his lips; half of it had already burned to ash and fallen to the ground. Takaya didn’t particularly feel like smoking—he only wanted to be able to breathe in that scent.
His body, heavy and sluggish with the alcohol, settled along the concrete, and his eyelids began to droop. His half-lidded gaze followed a boisterous group of what appeared to be college students as it approached.
(Nothing to do with me...)
Not like they’d bother with someone sleeping on the street, he thought, when—
“Hey, lookee here!” one of the young men exclaimed jubilantly, ambling over. “This is perfect, man. I just ran out of Parliaments...”
The student, by the looks of him no stranger to this part of town, stopped next to Takaya. He reached for the pack of cigarettes, which still had a few sticks remaining. Perhaps he thought Takaya was asleep and in no condition to start an argument.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Takaya interrupted as the student removed a cigarette and moved to put the pack in his pocket. He sat up. The student turned and looked at Takaya. He appeared to be pretty far gone as well.
“What, you were awake?” he grumbled, raising the cigarette to his lips. Takaya stood and swiped it out of his hand.
“Wh-what the hell?”
“Fuck you.” Takaya glared at the student. “Those’re my fucking cigarettes.”
“Cigarettes? Yeah...I’m all out... Sorry dude. Just lemme have this, ’kay? I’ll give you some money, and you go get yourself a new pack, yeah?” he said, producing some small change which he slipped into Takaya’s hand. Temper frayed by the casual contact, Takaya threw the coins down on the road. The student’s friends turned at the sound.
“Wh-what the hell are you doing? Said I’ll pay for the cigarettes, didn’t I? So what is your problem?”
“Fuck you, you asshole. Gimme my fucking cigarettes. I don’t want another pack, I want mine back.”
Startled by Takaya’s anger but bolstered by the alcohol in his system, the student refused to back down. “I told you, go buy yourself a new pack. Keep the change. Go find a vending machine somewhere. What the hell is this guy’s problem?”
He took out the pack of cigarettes, put one in his mouth, and lit it. Takaya’s face twisted with rage. He threw a fist into the side of the student’s face without another word. The girls in the group screamed as the punch sent the young man tumbling to the ground. The other students shouted in protest.
“What the hell are you doing, kid?!”
“A dirty little bastard like you shouldn’t be smoking those things anyway!”
There was nothing but rage left in Takaya’s mind.
“Those’re mine. Don’t you fucking touch them with your filthy hands...!”
“Fuck you!”
The drunk students came on en mass. Takaya filled his body with «power»—before suddenly coming back to himself.
(No, I can’t...!)
It had frightened them. Takaya took a knee to the solar plexus and collapsed to the ground, and the fight became a thrashing. As he crouched there enduring the rain of blows, his gaze fell on the discarded cigarette box, now trampled and crushed.
(...bastards...!)
He clawed at the ground, teeth gritted in rage. But he was helpless. A foot stomped down on his outstretched hand, and he drew it back and covered his head, trying to shield himself from the pain.
The students finally left, elated with their victory. Still hunched over, Takaya finally reached out and gripped the crushed box, cradling it gently in a shaking hand.
He didn’t know how long he lay there on the cold concrete. But he gradually noticed someone standing there gazing down at him.
It was a man.
He looked around Naoe’s age. Not as tall, though. One hand held a black briefcase. The eyes beneath his dark eyebrows were quiet as they regarded him.
There was pity on his face...
What Takaya didn’t know was that this man had been following him for quite some time. He’d never even noticed. This man of unknown intentions, who could blend his shadow into the deep city night and melt away at will, had been tracking Takaya’s movements, and had only now chosen to reveal himself at last.
He now spoke to Takaya for the first time.
“—That was quite reckless...”
“...”
“If you wanted, you could have sent them all flying with a single blow. Isn’t that so...?”
Takaya made no response. He lay unmoving upon the concrete even as the cold seeped into his wounded body.
“Did you wish to be beaten so badly?” the man asked. He took off his coat, knelt, and gently wrapped it around Takaya’s shoulders.
“Leave me alone.”
Though he spurned the man, the coat’s warmth made him ache. He hid his face behind his hands as his eyes suddenly blurred and grew hot with tears.
“I’m not running away.”
“...”
“I’m not running away from ‘Kagetora’. He’s the one running away, hiding... Isn’t he...?”
A small drop slipped through his wet fingers and fell to the concrete.
“Why...did it have to end up like this?” Takaya mumbled, then stopped, still crouched, shivering like a tiny rabbit.
The man watched over him, saying nothing for a long moment. Then he asked hesitantly, “... Will you...come with me? You don’t want to be alone right now, yes...?”
Raising a bruised and swelling face, Takaya looked at the man for the first time out of eyes wet with tears. The stranger’s expression seemed to hold a trace of protectiveness as he looked down at Takaya.
“You’re injured and...it’s chilly here...you’ll catch a cold,” the man added, and held out a hand to him, palm up. Takaya closed his eyes. Tears spilled over and fell. The warmth of the hand made his chest tighten. Relief and loneliness blended together within him. The name on his lips was carried away by the wind sweeping through the damp city night.