Brave Story (13 page)

“That’s exactly why I was hoping we could all spend some quality time together over the holiday,” Kuniko replied, beaming a smile at Wataru. The look in her eyes was clear.
Private Wataru! Captain Akira has entered “bad mood” status! We need backup!

Wataru wasn’t sure how to respond. He wanted his father’s permission to go so badly that he could taste it. How could he take his mother’s side with that dangling right in front of his eyes?

“Also, if Wataru spends all of August in Chiba, then he won’t be able to visit my parents in Odawara,” Kuniko added, rising from the table to fetch the coffee pot. “They would be so disappointed if they didn’t get to see him.”

Akira remained silent. The newspaper lifted higher, hiding his face. Kuniko’s continued protests were met with noncommittal grunts from behind the wall of headlines and weather forecasts. The mood at the breakfast table stagnated until no one said anything at all. From then on, little by little, Wataru’s month of summer vacation in Chiba slowly became a reality.

For his time on the beach to be spent as effectively and pleasurably as possible, he would need to finish off the majority of his summer homework in July, while he was still in Tokyo. Wataru was quite meticulous about that sort of thing. He promised himself that during the ten or so days of vacation in July, no matter what distractions the day might hold, he would force himself to get up in time for the early-morning radio exercise program, and other than his twice-weekly swimming lessons, would stay at home so that he could concentrate on finishing his homework. Just thinking about it made him ecstatic. To think that June, with its drizzly rain and oppressive humidity, and those unexpected chilly nights that gave him a stuffy nose, could be a time of such unbridled joy! All he had to do was think ahead to that day when the sticky air and gloomy skies blew away, leaving behind a golden summer: polished and gleaming and all his.

“You sure are in a good mood,” Katchan observed. He was green with envy when Wataru told him why. “Awww, I wish I could go for a little while too…”

“You want me to ask my uncle if it’s okay?” It wasn’t an entirely selfless suggestion. Wataru knew that he would have more fun if Katchan were there too. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“Well, I’d sure love to,” Katchan began, his expression uncharacteristically clouded, “but I think I better stick around and help with the bar.”

“You guys have a summer vacation, though, right?”

“Yeah, but we’re going on a trip then. My folks can’t take many days off, so that family vacation is kinda important.”

“Wow, look at you.” Wataru whistled for effect. “Katchan, model son.”

“Ya think?”

The two of them laughed at that.

And so the days passed, and June eventually came to a close with only one page remaining on Wataru’s daily calendar. He had to go to cram school that day, so he hurried home after classes finished so he could wolf something down before he had to rush out again.

He opened the front door to discover a woman’s pretty shoes sitting in the entranceway. There were voices coming from the living room—women’s voices. Peeking in, he saw it was his mother’s friend, the wife of that real estate agent. He seemed to recall her husband’s company having some grandiose name like Saeki Estates. The air was thick with her perfume.

Kuniko spotted him and waved. The woman turned and greeted him. He smiled and asked her how she was doing. With the trip to Chiba this close, he didn’t want to risk any mistakes, and, since he wanted to stay on his mother’s good side, that meant acting like a respectable little boy. It worked. Kuniko went and got him a plate and gave him permission to go eat in his room. The snack was a gorgeous piece of cake, decorated with heaps of fruit. “Mrs. Saeki brought these for us. Be sure to thank her, now.” She smiled at their guest.

In Castle Mitani, it was the law of the land that when Queen Kuniko was entertaining a caller, Prince Wataru’s duty was to sit and take tea with them while they grilled him with boring questions about school and his friends. Today’s unexpected reprieve from his princely chores came first as a relief, but then puzzled him. His parents were super-strict, after all.
Why the sudden generosity?

In the living room behind him, Kuniko and Mrs. Saeki were talking in hushed voices.
Whisper, whisper.

So that was it! They didn’t want him to hear whatever it was they were talking about. Of course, the only thing to do in this situation was to eavesdrop. Wataru picked at his cake with his fingers, one ear pressed against the door.

The first low voice he heard belonged to his mother. “So what are the police doing about it?”

Wataru’s eyes widened. He licked a stray dollop of cream off one finger.

“Well, they’re looking for the perpetrator, of course. I’m sure they must have a good idea of who did it by now.”

“Some pervert, I’m sure. No doubt he’s done something like this before.”

“Well, maybe. But they think it may have been a group of bullies.”

“What, you mean like high school students? Surely not any kids in middle school, right? I mean, look at what they did. And at least one of them could drive.”

“I suppose, but what about all these children in high school who just stay home and play hooky? It could have been a bunch of those types.”

“Just the sort to cause trouble, I’m sure. But, my, this isn’t just trouble, is it? It’s a serious crime!”

“And that’s exactly why I say we need a neighborhood watch program. I only have boys like you, but think about the parents with girls. They must be terrified!”

“One can only imagine!”

“Those poor dears,” Mrs. Saeki sighed. “And the Daimatsus too…”

Wataru had just finished eating the cherry from the top of his cake. He gasped and swallowed the seed. The
Daimatsus? The same Daimatsus who own the building?
It made sense that it would be them. It was Mrs. Saeki, after all, who had first told his mother the saga of the unfinished building.

“Their daughter, she was in middle school, wasn’t she?”

“That’s right. But I hear that the Daimatsus never went to the police—not right away, at least. Then this happened, and they started thinking that it might be the same people who kidnapped her. That’s when they finally talked about it. Of course, the police were making the rounds by then.”

“Well, I guess I understand how they felt, but I still think they should have gone to the police sooner.”

“It sounds like the whole affair was quite a shock for the Daimatsus’ daughter…they say she went mute! She was, I don’t know, somehow
broken
by all of this.”

Kuniko was silent with astonishment. But the one who was truly reeling was Wataru. His ear was still glued to the door, his face as white as the cream smeared on his cheek.

The Daimatsus’ daughter…unable to speak…broken.

They had to be talking about Kaori. Who else could it be? That stunningly beautiful girl in the wheelchair with the vacant eyes, her head wobbling on that graceful neck like a limp doll’s every time her brother gave her a push. Whatever it was they were talking about, it had something to do with her condition. What had those perverts, or hoodlums, or whoever it was, done? And the police were involved. Mrs. Saeki said something about her being kidnapped. Had someone kidnapped Kaori? Did they do that to her? Did they
break
her?

Wataru’s stomach shrank to the size of a clenched fist, then sank down, down, down, finally coming to a rest somewhere near his kneecaps. He suddenly lost his appetite for cake.

Wataru hadn’t quite hit puberty yet but was close enough to see it on the road ahead. He had a pretty good idea of what lay in store and already knew twice as much about things as his parents suspected.

He was able to make a decent guess, then, at just what Kaori Daimatsu might have been through to leave her so broken, and what that must have been like for a young girl. Of course, this was all speculation. No doubt the details were a little different—well, very different—but he had an intuitive sense that the whole thing was frightening, detestable, and
foul
beyond words.

It was almost time for him to leave for cram school. He would have to take his plate back to the kitchen and say goodbye to his mother before he could do that, but he wasn’t sure if he could pull it off.
Mom, I know that girl!
I know Kaori! I haven’t been able to think about anything else since the day I met her. She was so cute, Mom…like the fairy, Neena.

Just thinking about it brought tears to his eyes.

Wataru tore himself away from the whispered conversation, crept out of the room like a ninja, and dashed straight to cram school with an unexpected energy, the wild look in his eyes raising more than a few eyebrows on the street as he passed.

The entire time that he was in class, sitting motionless in his seat, listening to the teacher explain the mistakes he had made on his arithmetic homework, and watching the rest of the class stare in awe of Yutaro’s academic abilities, Wataru still felt like he was running…alone. He didn’t know where he was going, or why he was running in the first place. He just ran—like a hero on a mission. He didn’t have to ask directions, he didn’t wonder whom he was supposed to save, or what evil monster he was supposed to vanquish—he just ran.

But the reality of it was that he didn’t know where to go, or what to do when he got there. And he was very, very alone.

Class didn’t finish until after eight o’clock in the evening. Normally Wataru would be starving, but today he had no appetite at all. He just felt a hollow emptiness in his gut. He hurriedly put away his textbook and his notes, and started home.

As he walked, he felt a desperate need to go back to the Daimatsu building. Something told him that if he went there he would see Kaori again. But it had been much later at night when he first met her there. Midnight, even. There was no way they’d have taken her there for her walk this early. He wasn’t even sure if the place was on her normal route. Mr. Daimatsu may have dropped by for a look at the state of his abandoned project on a whim.

Even as he listed all the reasons why it was pointless to go there, he nonetheless found his feet taking him in the direction of the building. This time there was no chance encounter with his father at the entrance to the apartment complex. Wataru walked straight toward the haunted building as if he were on some important errand. Luckily, it wasn’t raining that night.

It had already been about two weeks since Katchan had run into Mr. Daimatsu and the man in the gray workman’s outfit, but the building showed no signs of any new construction since then. The tarps were draped, as always, over the building’s thin steel skeleton, making it look as if it had taken a chill despite summer’s imminent arrival.

Nobody was around at this time of the evening. There were always people on the streets when he passed by on the way to and from school, but this was a quiet residential area—the quiet shrine on one side of the building, and houses everywhere else—with no shops or convenience stores. After the sun went down, the area settled into silence.

Wataru stood under a streetlight and looked up at the building. The thick ropes that tied the tarps together had soaked up rain for the past several days, making them hang limp like dead worms. One here, one there—Wataru swung his finger across the width of the building, counting them.

The place that should have been the main entrance was covered with a particularly thick tarp, which was secured, not with a rope, but with a large padlock. Mr. Daimatsu presumably was holding on to the key until he could find another construction company to carry on with the project. He must have opened the lock before Wataru and Katchan arrived on the day they had met, so that he could inspect the interior.

Wataru peeked between two of the sheets. He could just make out some steel beams and what looked like a staircase. The place smelled faintly of mold. He glanced down at the digital display on his watch.

08:19:32

Why would Mr. Daimatsu have brought Kaori here on a walk so late at night? If he wanted to inspect the place, he could have easily done so during the day. Why go to the trouble of coming so late? Maybe he couldn’t bear to see Kaori’s broken body under the unforgiving light of day? Maybe Kaori herself didn’t like going out when it was hot? Or maybe it wasn’t the bright sunlight she hated but the strangers who filled the streets. All those people—and not a single one had come to her aid.

Wataru wished that he knew the details of what had happened so that he wouldn’t have to suffer through the painful images his imagination dreamed up. Even more, he wished he hadn’t heard about it in the first place.

Standing there, he couldn’t help comparing this ill-fated, partially completed building to Kaori. A lifeless husk, meaninglessly abandoned to the depredations of wind and rain, wasting away little by little. This wasn’t just a building, it was her soul.

For a moment, Wataru was too lost in the sorrow and indignation swirling through him to be aware of his surroundings or to see what was happening right before his eyes. When he did see, he blinked.
Impossible.
Even a fifth grader knows the difference between what should be real and what shouldn’t be. This was a fantasy, a phantasm, a…