Brave Story (31 page)

Mitsuru’s aunt seemed to be clinging tighter and tighter to the receiver as she spoke.

Wataru began to worry that maybe, by talking about school, he had tripped a flag.

In role-playing games and adventure games, the story typically followed a set course. Usually, you would have to ask a particular person a predetermined question to advance to the next stage of the story. Programmers set up flags to keep track of which of these turning points the player had passed. Once a flag was up, you were free to go on, but sometimes you could get stuck in the same part of a game for weeks, unable to find the event that would trigger the flag, scratching your head without a clue how to proceed.

That’s what Wataru’s conversation just now with Mitsuru’s aunt had felt like. Wataru knew things and she knew things that neither of them were telling each other. They were talking, but the story wasn’t going anywhere…until Wataru, unwittingly, said whatever the key word was that she had been waiting for. It had set off a flag. They were going to the next stage.

Mitsuru’s aunt hung up the phone. She looked pale. “Three kids in the sixth grade are missing,” she said, her voice trembling. Before Wataru could even nod, she ran over to him and grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently. “Why didn’t you tell me? Wataru, you knew, didn’t you? Kenji and his friends were stalking Mitsuru—that’s why you came looking for him when you heard they had gone missing, isn’t it? What if Mitsuru did something to them? Well? Why don’t you say something? Answer me!” she shouted, then shoved Wataru away. She covered her face with her hands and slumped to the ground. Wataru felt dizzy, but not on account of the shaking. It was the swirling behind his eyes, the swirling in his heart.

What if Mitsuru did something to them?

It was one of the first questions out of her mouth—and she had sounded terrified. Wataru didn’t think she was worried about Mitsuru, either. She was worried about Kenji.

Who would think that?!

Did she know he could use magic? Did she know he could chant incantations and summon monsters to harm his enemies? She must. How else would she get the idea that Mitsuru could do anything, three to one, against Kenji’s gang.
What do you know, Ms. Ashikawa?

“There were a lot of television reporters at school,” Wataru said in a quiet voice. “A lot of helicopters too. One of the girls in class told us that on the news, they were saying two of Kenji’s friends had been found. They were alive, but it was weird…”

Mitsuru’s aunt looked at him through her fingers. “Weird?”

“They couldn’t remember anything about the night before.”

Mitsuru’s aunt dropped her hands and stood. “Well, Mitsuru can’t do anything like that.” She spoke in a flat, even tone, as though she had resigned herself to some fate already and was just waiting for the pieces to fall into place. “But if the television crews were there—then I’m afraid he’s finished. They’ll find out he ran away, and they’ll come asking questions about his family.”

“His family?”

Mitsuru’s aunt merely shook her head. “I-I don’t know what to do.”

“Ms. Ashikawa…”

She began to cry. “You’re the same age as Mitsuru, right? Eleven?”

“Yeah?”

Wataru felt like crying too. He felt so sad, so sorry for her. She had seemed so perfect, so adult. Now it was like he could see her falling apart, just like Kaori Daimatsu must have. What if she became like her, a delicate, broken thing?

“How old do I look?” she asked, and then answered her own question. “I’m twenty-three. I graduated from college last year, and I just started working at my first job. I’ve only lived twice as long as you and Mitsuru. I’m no grown-up. I can’t—I can’t deal with all this.”

She walked over to the phone. “I have to tell the school,” she said. Then she looked at him. “Wataru, thank you for coming. You should probably go home.”

By early afternoon, the news of Kenji’s disappearance had gone national. Wataru recognized the buildings in the television coverage of his school, despite the fact that they tried to blur out the school’s name. He could even pick out some of his classmates walking home.

Wataru’s mom had heard about the incident the same way Mitsuru’s mom had, via the PTA emergency phone network. After that call, the phone had rung several times, mostly calls from worried friends and relatives who had seen the news. His mom told Grandma in Odawara, and Grandma in Chiba, that yes, Wataru was safe at home, and there was nothing to worry about.
He got a little scraped up in a fall on the way home. Yes, he ran back from school scared when he heard the news.

There was a call from Wataru’s teacher, who said that Wataru had forgotten to pick up his report card and that he would mail it to them the next day. He wasn’t angry that Wataru had left at all. Apparently, there had been a big panic at the school. That ambulance Wataru heard while running to Mitsuru’s apartment complex had been going to pick up a girl from Wataru’s class who had fainted. Several sixth-graders had passed out too, until they ran out of ambulances and had to call in help from fire departments in the neighboring wards.

Wataru’s mom had tended to his scrapes (thankfully, his front teeth hadn’t been broken) and made him chicken rice for lunch. He could barely swallow it. Even though she had basically kicked him out, Wataru couldn’t help but think about Mitsuru’s young, lovely, sad aunt, all alone in her apartment. She didn’t have anyone to make her a bowl of chicken rice. He wondered if Mitsuru’s uncle (the one in America) was her brother. Maybe he was still overseas. She would have no one to turn to, no one to come running to her aid.

The afternoon news confirmed that sixth-grader “K” was still missing, and now there were further reports that fifth-grader “M” from the same school had also been missing since that morning. The newscaster added that M had left a note, and thus it was unclear whether his disappearance was linked in any significant way to K’s situation.

Wataru’s mom spent the afternoon glued to the television, eating lunch during commercial breaks. When the phone rang it was Katchan’s mother. She was asking for Wataru’s dad to come help the fire department’s search and rescue team.

His mom politely explained that her husband was going to be late at work and couldn’t come home. Mrs. Komura replied that any time would be fine—they would be out searching until quite late. She was speaking so loudly that Wataru could pick up her words from across the room.

“Of course, if they manage to find him before nightfall, there won’t be a need,” Mrs. Komura said, sounding as jovial as ever. “That Kenji was a real troublemaker. I’m sure he got mixed up with some street gang and had the sense knocked into him, that’s all.”

His mom apologized a few more times, then hung up and returned to the television. She seemed lost in thought.

“You father isn’t calling, is he?” she muttered suddenly.

“He just hasn’t seen the news, I bet,” Wataru offered.

“He says they have a television in their company cafeteria.”

“Then he doesn’t know it’s my school. They’ve been avoiding saying it.”

His mom was silent. Wataru kept quiet too. The news stations continued talking about it, and the variety programs were already being replaced by live feeds from the school. Unfortunately, there was no new information.

Sometime around four, while Wataru was lying in his bed, resting, the doorbell rang. Thinking it was Wataru’s homeroom teacher come to pay a visit, his mother took off her apron and straightened out her hair before running to answer the door.

But the unexpected guest was Sanae’s mom. Wataru knew her from having seen Sanae and her together several times at the mall and the nearby supermarket. Wataru had been nervous around her at first—she wasn’t just the mother of a classmate, she was the mother of a
girl
—but Sanae’s mom was the friendly sort, and it had been easy to talk to her when they met.

“I heard from my daughter that Wataru wasn’t feeling well and thought I’d drop by for a visit. She wanted to come too, but with all the commotion in town I thought it best to keep her at home.” She looked over at Wataru who had emerged from his bedroom to say hello.

“Oh,” his mom said, “I’m sorry—Wataru’s fine.”

“But look at those scrapes! And is that a bump on your head, poor child! Were you sleeping? You should go back and lie down, sweetie.”

Kuniko quickly shuffled Wataru back to his room, handing him the melon Sanae’s mom brought as a get-well-soon gift. Wataru sensed the vibe in the room almost immediately. They were going to talk about something he wasn’t supposed to hear.

Of course, Wataru pressed his ear to the closed door of his room and began eavesdropping in earnest.

“Mrs. Mitani, actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about,” Sanae’s mom began. “Your son goes to the same cram school as one of the missing kids, right. That Ashikawa boy?”

Wataru jumped. They were talking about Mitsuru.

“That’s right,” he heard his mother answer.

“I hear he’s quite a good student, and handsome to boot.”

“I’ve never met him, actually. He’s never come over to our place.”

“Oh, is that so? Sanae seemed to think he and your son were friends. Perhaps she was mistaken. Well, silly me, I thought that, if they
were
friends, you might know something about him. That’s why I came.”

“Know something about him? Such as?”

Sanae’s mother’s voice suddenly got quieter and more intense. “Well, I’m not one to spread bad rumors, but you see, my husband noticed something a while back. Up until now we had kept it to ourselves, seeing as how it had nothing to do with the children.”

What had they noticed about Mitsuru? In Wataru’s head, the image of Mitsuru’s aunt crying repeated over and over.
They’ll come asking questions about his family
. What had she meant by that?

“Four years ago, there was this horrible incident at an apartment building in Kawasaki, you see. A company man, age thirty, killed his wife and her lover, then committed suicide. Well, it just so happens that this man’s last name was Ashikawa, and they had a son in the first grade.”

Wataru’s mom was silent. Wataru held his breath.

“They had another child, a baby girl—she was only two or so. The father killed her along with her mother. I suppose he couldn’t bear to leave the child behind with her mother gone.”

Sanae’s mom continued in an excited whisper. “Now, the story went that Mr. Ashikawa discovered his wife’s lover was coming to their house while he was away at work. So one day he came home at lunchtime and caught them in the act. He killed the three of them on the spot. And, after that, he waited in the apartment for the son to get back from school. He was going to kill him…”

“Please, stop this at once,” Wataru heard his mom say loudly. “I don’t want to hear this story anymore.”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Sanae’s mother replied, “but I’m not just making idle chatter here, you know.” She continued. “You see, the neighbors noticed something was wrong, and before the son came home, the husband escaped. He was on the run for a few days until he turned up someplace—Shizuoka, I think it was—dead. He had thrown himself into the sea.”

Wataru’s body froze. Was the boy Mitsuru Ashikawa? Was he the lone survivor?

Hearing no further protest from Kuniko, Sanae’s mother went on. “Now the Ashikawa boy in our school was living overseas for a while, but before that he lived in Kawasaki, and he’s not living with his parents now—when Sanae told us that, my husband and I knew he had to be the one. We wished the best for him then—really, we did. But with all the goings-on today, it’s starting to sound like the Ashikawa boy is tied up with Kenji’s disappearance somehow.”

“They don’t know that for sure,” Wataru’s mother said. “He could have just run away from home.”

“Well, I wish it were a simple coincidence too, but I’m starting to think it’s not.”

“But…”

“So I talked to my husband. Of course, the school must have known about the Ashikawa boy’s past from the beginning, right? They knew and they didn’t tell us, and now look what’s happened. Well, we think they should tell the PTA, they owe it to us. Other parents might have put two and two together by now too.”

Wataru’s mother was quiet for a while, then she finally asked in a weak voice, “And you wanted to talk to me why?”

“Well, when Sanae said your boy was friends with the Ashikawa boy, I thought maybe you had noticed something too, so I came to talk to you first. Of course, it sounds like they aren’t friends at all. I’m afraid I’ve made quite a mistake.”

“I’ve never heard Wataru talk about the Ashikawa boy. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I owe you an apology.” Wataru heard the sound of a chair sliding. “I’m sorry to have taken up your time. It’s just, it didn’t seem like the sort of thing one could talk about on the phone, and you live so close. I’m sorry. I’m off to the school. Good night, Mrs. Mitani.”

Sanae’s mother was halfway out the door when the phone rang again. His mother picked it up. Then, after a few tense words, she hung up. Wataru heard her walk over and knock on his door.

“Wataru?”

Wataru opened the door and looked up at his mother. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find the words.