Brave Story (21 page)

Then he went back to putting on his shoes. He put the shoehorn back on top of the shoebox. Then, back still turned, he spoke. “Even if I divorced your mother, I’m still your father, Wataru. Nothing will change that, no matter where I go.”

“But you are leaving us?” Wataru said again.
Why does my voice sound so weak? Why can’t I talk louder? Why can’t I say something more persuasive?
“You’re leaving me and Mom.”

Akira Mitani opened the door. “I’m sorry, Wataru.”

And then he left.

Wataru stood there, watching the door swing shut. His mouth hung open, and his eyes were dry. His stomach ached like he had to go to the bathroom, but was holding it in.

Uncle Lou silently walked up behind him and put his hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry.” There were tears in his voice. “I guess I shouldn’t have brought you home. You should’ve stayed with me at the hotel. I was wrong. I’m sorry, Wataru. I’m sorry.”

I’m still sleeping. This is all a dream. I’m still in the haunted building, under those rickety stairs, amidst the scraps of concrete and the dust, hung over a railing, asleep. My uncle will find me and drag me out, then Mr. Daimatsu will show up, and they’ll take me to Mr. Daimatsu’s house.

I’m sleeping. When I wake up, everything will be like it was before.

Wataru repeated those words to himself over and over, like a spell—a spell powerful enough to defeat the most fearsome monster. A spell to drive all enemies away. A spell to make the monsters vanish.

No. You’re wrong. Spells won’t work. I’m not asleep. This is reality. This is happening right before my eyes.

Pain welled up from deep inside. What was that spell the wizard used, the one to turn back time? What words did he say?
I should’ve remembered them.
I want to use them now.

“Uncle Lou,” Wataru said quietly, feeling his uncle’s warmth against his back. “Did you know? Did you know Dad would be leaving tonight?”

His uncle breathed a ragged breath before answering. “Not until that phone call.”

That’s why he had been so frazzled, even though Wataru had only fallen asleep.

“It’s terrible,” his uncle muttered. “I don’t believe this. I can’t believe he would lay this on you.”

Wataru turned silently, and fell into his uncle’s arms. Hanging on to him for dear life, he cried and cried.

No matter how confused, how tired, or how sad, every night has its morning. When he opened his eyes, the morning sun shone harsh against Wataru’s face.

He’d fallen asleep with his uncle in the living room. Uncle Lou, too large for the sofa, was sprawled on the floor. Wataru had curled up in one corner of the long sofa, a refugee in his own home. When he stood up, every bone in his body made an audible
crack
.

Outside the window was a clear blue sky. The rainy season must be over. There hadn’t been a hint of rain yesterday, and the sky this morning was particularly clear. Not a single cloud.

Wataru looked at the clock. It was near eight already. His uncle had his back turned to the sunlight and was sleeping soundly. Even Wataru’s muddled head remembered that it had only been a few hours since they fell asleep. If he didn’t wake his uncle, he’d doubtlessly sleep for a few more hours.

Not a sound came from his parents’ room. He wondered how his mother was doing. Was she sleeping? Was she pretending to be asleep? Did she not want to get up? Either way, Kuniko didn’t know that he’d come home the night before.

For a moment he was tempted to go in and talk to her, but eventually he thought better of it. He didn’t want to talk to anyone this morning. He didn’t want to be seen. Quiet as a mouse, he would run off to school. He’d be late if he didn’t hurry.

He washed his face, brushed his teeth, patted his hair down, and changed out of his wrinkled clothes. He had just shoved his textbooks and notebook into his schoolbag when it occurred to him that he didn’t need to go to school. He could go anywhere. He didn’t even have to come home.

He could go to Vision
.
He could forget everything.

No, I can’t.
He would just be caught again by one of the karulah, and that’s if he was lucky. He could just as easily end up as screw-wolf food. In the end, he realized he didn’t have anywhere else to go but school.

His usual morning walking buddies had already left for school. The rule was firm: miss the meeting time and get left behind. Otherwise everyone would be late. Wataru was on his own today. By the time he reached the schoolyard, he could hear the five-minute bell sounding. He ran for the front gate, just like he had the day before. Nothing had changed. Nothing was different. He had just slept in and skipped breakfast, nothing else.

Unbelievably, class that day was completely normal. Their teacher was even a little more cheerful than usual. She chatted with them about how nice it was now that the rainy season was over. The Mitani household had imploded, and nothing had changed at all. The world went on.

A while ago, somebody-or-other’s
Book of Prophecies
had made the rounds at school. They even talked about it on TV. Apparently, the prophecies had originally been written on a stone tablet they found in an ancient ruin, and one of them predicted that mankind would perish in the year 2014. Among the guests appearing on the show was an expert on pyramids. He had annoyed the moderator by saying that, although it was fun to discuss these sorts of things, one shouldn’t take them too seriously. Even if you thought the world was coming to an end, there was no good reason to believe this particular prophecy. That makes sense, thought Wataru at the time. He was able to go to bed that night without thinking anymore about it.

The world went on. People could be destroyed, so simply it was almost comical, but the world went on. For the time being.

When the first-period class ended, the teacher called him to her desk.

“Wataru, the principal’s office just had a call from your mother. She wanted to know if you were in school or not. I told her you were sitting in class, but I wondered…” his teacher raised an eyebrow. “Is something the matter at home?”

“Mom’s been sick,” Wataru hurriedly explained. “She was sleeping when I left this morning, that’s why.”

“Oh, I see. That explains it. You came in all by yourself, then, didn’t you? When classes are over, you go straight home so your mother doesn’t have to worry too much.”

Wataru nodded and said yes and went back to his seat. For the rest of the day, he sat in class, the words around him blowing like a breeze over the smoking husk that was Wataru Mitani’s world.

By the time he left school at noon, the sun was hot enough to make him sweat. He heard a voice calling frantically. It made his ears throb it was so loud.

“Hey! Trying to give me the slip, are you? You still snoring there, sleepyhead?!”

It was Katchan. Wataru stopped. It seemed like forever since he had last seen his friend. Ten, twenty years, was it?

“Hey man, you’ve been totally out of it all day,” said Katchan, jogging up to him. “What’s up? You get your hands on a demo version of
Saga III
or something?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

“Huh, too bad. Hey, you should come over after lunch! My dad was out playing pachinko, and he got this soccer game as a prize. I tried it, and it’s
totally
addictive. You wanna play?”

Wataru looked at his friend’s smiling face in silence. He couldn’t think of anything to say. All he could think of was how nice it would be if he were Katchan.
I want to be you.

“Hey! Why are you looking at me like that? Whoa, there something on my face?” Katchan began swiping at his face with his fingers.

“No,” Wataru shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t play today.”

Katchan noticed something was wrong. His searching eyes stopped a moment. “What is it, Wataru?”

“It’s nothing, really.”

“You got a cold? Stomach bug, or something? Or maybe…the plague?!”

“No, I’m fine.”

Katchan stared into Wataru’s face a moment. “Something’s wrong, that’s for sure.”

“Nothing’s wrong, really.” Wataru smiled a thin smile.

Katchan stepped back. “Well, guess I’ll be going home then.”

“Okay.”

“If, uh, something comes up, you give me a call, ’kay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be home the whole time.”

“Right.”

“Okay, bye!”

Katchan ran off, pausing occasionally to look back. Wataru resumed walking only after he lost sight of his friend. Other kids who took the same route home passed him by. He walked on slowly. Soon, he was alone, like he had been that morning.

Wataru found himself standing in front of the haunted building. It looked the same as always, blue plastic tarps shining in the afternoon sun. Mr. Daimatsu had promised to beef up security on the building, but nothing seemed different today.

Wataru thought back on what he’d experienced beyond the gate. Oddly, the details of his adventure were getting fuzzy. That big red bird—what was it called again? His memory was fading like an old photograph. It seemed flat, less vivid. What was happening?

“Wataru…”

Hearing his name being called snapped Wataru back into reality.
Who’s there?

It was Mitsuru. He was staring at him from beneath the red torii gate of the Mihashi Shrine. He waved for him to follow, and walked into the shrine grounds. Wataru was exhausted, but as soon as he saw Mitsuru, he remembered the scene by the gate.

What are you doing here?

He ran after the other boy like he had the day before. Mitsuru didn’t even look back to see if he was following. “Sit,” he said curtly, pointing to one of the shrine benches. Wataru did as he was told. He sat where Mitsuru had been sitting when they had first met at the shrine, days before.

From this vantage point, the shrine interior seemed somehow different. He had looked in countless times as he passed by the front gate, he had even sat right in this spot the other day, but he was sure he had never seen
this
shrine before. It was quiet here, a little world, surrounded by green. Even the old roof tiles of the main shrine, spotted by plaster filling in cracks here and there looked different. It had always seemed shabby before, but now he felt like he had come to some unknown place in a faraway land.

“Enjoying the view?” Mitsuru said, standing ahead of him, his arms crossed on his chest. “This is sacred ground.”

“Sacred ground?”

“A place where the gods reside,” Mitsuru said stiffly. His voice was harsh, his expression severe. Even the priest who ran the shrine never looked so serious, Wataru thought. A short and cheerful man, he always looked after the younger kids. He would emerge from the shrine every afternoon holding a yellow flag. He wanted to make sure cars would stop for the children crossing the street. He never would have talked about the gods without a generous smile.

Mitsuru looked toward the shrine, furiously silent. Just as Wataru felt like he should say something, anything to break the silence, the other boy spoke.

“So you went?”

“Went where?” Wataru asked, even though he knew the answer. Mitsuru meant that place over there, there…
what was it called again?
He couldn’t remember.
Uh-oh.
He was sure that just a moment before he would have been able to remember, but for some reason his mind was drawing a blank.

Mitsuru turned and, for the first time, looked Wataru straight in the eye. “You went to Vision, right? Beyond the gate.”

Wataru opened his mouth. Vision? Was that the, that place—right, the desert. Something horrible had attacked him, he remembered that much. Wait, but hadn’t that been a dream?

Mitsuru stared at Wataru and took a step closer. His eyes narrowed, and the pupils became hard and focused.

“I…I went into the haunted building,” Wataru said with a shudder. “I went with my uncle.”

“Yes, I know. We met there.” Mitsuru said. “I haven’t forgotten. It
was
only yesterday.”

“Yeah, but…”

Mitsuru turned his head and spat. Wataru started wondering why he always felt like a fool whenever he met this boy. Still, he heard a voice inside saying that somehow, it was his own fault. It was a little Wataru inside him, shouting as loud as he could, jumping and waving his arms, trying to get his attention, and yet still growing smaller and fainter by the moment.

And then, the second before that tiny, tiny Wataru disappeared, it shouted out one thing with all its strength.

“You will forget about this place before you see one sunrise and one sunset.”

Wataru’s mouth opened and the words came out, but the voice was not his own. It was a low voice that resonated with power.

Mitsuru, who had been looking off, suddenly whirled around. His eyes were wide. Wataru, flustered, still not entirely convinced the voice had come from himself, put both his hands to his mouth like a giggling schoolgirl.

“I see.” The corner of Mitsuru’s mouth curled upward. “So one of the karulah caught you, did he.”