Chapter 6: 2.1

The call came early in the morning.

 

Mom had passed away.

 

It was August the second, middle of the summer break. The sun was molten hot on that day. The sky was bright blue, except for the thick cirrocumulus clouds that folded on top of each other. It was as though a huge bomb had fallen over Mount Adatara. The world I had known had ended soundlessly, amid the cicada’s echoing sirens.

 

My mind might be out of track, but the wheels of my bicycle were steady. Before I knew it, I slid my bike into the hospital parking lot. Flapping my soaking T-shirt, I strode through the cool hospital to the reception desk.

 

To be honest, I didn’t remember what happened from then well, nor do I remember the look on the receptionist’s face.  She might be staring at me emphatically, or she might be puzzled by my unnaturally nonchalant demeanor.

 

I was then led to the hospital’s mortuary, where I met Mom for the last time.

 

The word “met” might not be fitting. Her human form was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a large circular glass vase sat innocently on the bed. Salt filled the vase.

 

It was the vase I had placed the flowers I had collected without asking. She must have intended to use it for her body since the start, but was unable to refuse my flowers. It was in her to do that.

 

Mom passed away in her sleep, or so the doctor said, and turned into salt overnight. He also explained, the chloride progressed rapidly after the patient’s death.

 

Only then did I finally registered Mom’s death. Until the last second, I had prayed for it to be a sick joke. Maybe some magician will appear and open the curtain, revealing Mom smiling mischievously.

 

It was a child’s fantasy.

 

Mom’s death became an unbearable pain. I held the cold vase and wept for a long time.

 

But at the same time, I was glad.

 

I was glad she was finally free from her pain.

 

As the Chloride Blight proceeded, tissues turned into salt. Sometimes, surrounding membranes would chafe, producing immense pain. I saw how Mom gritted her teeth in anguish when she moved, and in her final days, the doctor had to prescribe her morphine to numb the pain.

 

Despite the suffering, Mom said she didn’t want to die. She was adamant about staying with me as long as she could. I made her suffer. Sometimes, I would curse myself for it.

 

So I wished her soul would find peace. A warm, sunny place, free from pain, where cats would gather and bask in the sun. I wished for a comfortable lounging chair, orange groves nearby, books for her to read, a pleasant breeze.

 

I wanted Mom’s soul to be in a place filled with warmth.

 

 　　　２

 

Mom had no relatives at all, so Dad came over and held a modest home funeral. A monk came to read sutras in front of an impromptu altar. I stole a glance at Dad, he was crying. Tears were spilling from his lone eye. I wasn’t sure what I should feel.

 

He was the one who caused Mom so much pain, what right did he have to be crying.

 

But his tears were genuine, like it or not, he really loved her, it seemed. Before I could forgive him, my rational mind hastily put a lid on the thought.

 

After the service, I got on the black Mercedes driven by Dad and headed for Iwaki City.

 

I was alone with the Shadow. All our conversations were nothing short of elusive.

 

“Do you know why westerners are tall?” He began when my consciousness began to blend into the passing scenery. “Because they have deep-set eyes.”

 

“Huh?” I fell for his hook completely. “And why is that so?”

 

He smirked. “Their eyes bore deeper into the skull than Asians, making it harder to look above. In turn, makes them vulnerable to attacks from overhead. The taller, the easier to attack your opponent and harder to get attacked.  In other words, the probability of survival increases. Eventually, through natural selection, tall Caucasians survive.”

 

“Oh… Is that so…” 

 

Deep in his domain, he sprung the trap with a grin. “Of course it’s made up, my son.”

 

I was angry, but if I showed him, it would mean losing to him. I kept silent.

 

Not before long, the sea came into view.

 

When we got out of the car, it was cooler than in Koriyama. In the somewhat mild summer heat, the sea was glistening in the gentle light. We walked to a secluded dock and took out Mom’s salt.

 

“We might get in trouble if it’s ashes,” Dad said, “But salt should be fine.”

 

Mom’s dying wish was to be sprinkled into the ocean. 

 

Dad and I gently scooped salt onto our palms. Slowly, we let it fall. A soft draft blew by and salt shone like jewels.

 

When the salt was all gone, I began sprinkling flowers. Flowers and lone petals fell, some dove down, others descended like paratroopers. The flower screen down below was as bright as multicolored lotuses blooming on the surface of the water. Eventually, the waves carried them away. I wished that it would reach Mom, where she would probably put it on display.

 

Dad and I stood there for a while. I felt like we were finally having an ordinary moment like father and son.

 

But dusk fell and Dad returned to be the Shadow. An elusive, expanding and contracting, unreliable shadow…

 

“Will you live with me, my boy?”

 

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My heart shook like a flower petal on water. 

Instead of answering, I asked him instead. “Why did you divorce Mom?”

 

“Remember about my right eye? It was the same for her.”

 

I gulped. “What do you mean?”

 

“I told you, it was a nuisance. Nobody would believe me, but at some point, my own right eye became a hindrance. I plucked it out with my own hand when it finally became unbearable. I felt it was a waste to throw away the body my parents gave me, so I ate it.”

[TN:Might be Xiahou Dun reference from The Romance of Three Kingdoms]

 

I didn’t even want to imagine it. The story was grotesque beyond reality. 

 

“Once I lost the eye, strangely enough, I developed a talent for writing. I began to understand what I couldn’t understand, see what I once couldn’t. That was how I became a novelist.”

 

I chewed on his revelation and asked, “What does it have anything to do with the divorce.”

 

My father hesitated for a moment and then said, “I loved her… But one day, she began to hold me down, until I couldn’t write at all. I had no choice but to leave her.”

 

I was stunned, every emotion drained out of me. Then, from the depths of my empty heart, anger welled up., boiling everything in its path.

 

“Are you nuts?!” My voice shook.

 

“I’m sorry… I am,” he said silently.

 

“Don’t say that. Do you know how much she suffered?!”

 

“That was inexcusable to me. But I try to make an effort in my own way.”

 

 “I wasn’t talking about effort! You… to hell with you!”

 

He looked hurt. I grabbed Mom’s vase and walked towards Koriyama. Night fell, but I walked alone, crying, going in the general direction of home.

 

The blank space in the large vase developed into a throbbing ache. When I couldn’t take another step, I fell onto a bench at a bus stop.

 

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of sparrows and began my trek with tears.

 

Miraculously, I arrived at the apartment of the second night; I had walked for over twenty four hours. 

 

 　　　３

 

That summer remained in my memory as freezing cold even though the temperature was absurdly high.

 

The blank space in the apartment where Mom once was tortured me. The housework and all the activities I had been doing came to a complete halt. I knew the need to go and pick the flowers, alas, I couldn’t move at all.

 

I wrapped a blanket over me, shivering and shaking, not sweating a single drop despite the fever. I couldn’t move a single step from the bed. Every once in a while, I burst into tears like a showman melting the sweltering sun. I wasn’t sure I was sad. My mind became a jumbled mess that cringed at the slightest noise.

 

I drank nothing, ate nothing. I stayed in the semi-consciousness for approximately five days. If another day went by, I might have died, crumpled to dust like Mom, but from malnutrition instead.

 

But then the doorbell rang.

 

I didn’t move. Like a squirrel waiting for the storm to pass, I hid under a blanket and hoped the guest would go away, whoever it was.

 

But the guest persisted, and the doorbell only grew turbulent. 

 

“Yakumo-kun, I know you’re in there!”

 

It was Yuzuki. Her voice brought back my consciousness like a bucket of cold water.

 

I scrambled out of the bed. I stood up and my legs immediately wobbled. Every part of my body felt like clay. I tried to speak, but only the faintest whistle of wind escaped my throat.

 

I managed to crawl to the front door and unlocked it.

 

Immediately, the door opened with a bang. I squinted at the glare of the sun, more radiant than I remembered. Yuzuki gasped as she set her sights on me.

 

“Yakumo-kun…are you alive?!” It might have been a joke, but I forgot how to laugh.

 

Yuzuki left, the door still opened, and came back a while later with shopping bags in both hands. She set down a pudding worriedly. 

 

I had no appetite, having long passed the point of hunger, but when I forced myself to eat it, I felt a little better. It seemed that I was in need of sugar.

 

Yuzuki stood in the kitchen, and before long, I could hear the rhythmic thud-tok-tok-pok-pok-tok of her knife.

 

With the sound, time started to move again.

 

She made porridge. The color of honewort leaves and mash plums were so bright that my appetite instantly flared again. 

 

When I finished wolfing down, I saw a drop of tear remaining at the bottom of the earthenware pot.

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