Brave Story (27 page)

He could hear her husband scolding her, but their voices were already fading into the distance as he walked away. All but one sentence he heard as clearly as if the old man had been talking right in his ear.

“I knew there were irresponsible fathers in the world, but that was my first time seeing one.”

The old woman grumbled something about men, but Wataru was already too far away.

He wasn’t falling anymore. He had gone down as far as he could go, and now he had hit rock bottom. He was so far down he didn’t know where he was.

Chapter 11
The Secret

If somebody had later asked Wataru how he had spent the next several days before summer vacation began, he would have given them a blank stare and said nothing.
He was in a daze. Details blurred and faded in the space of hours. Those days, he lived for nothing, and did even less.

Not that there was much of a change in his daily routine. Uncle Lou visited again and they hammered out the details for his summer trip. Late in the evening, he saw him speaking in hushed tones with his mother, but he wasn’t told what they were discussing, or whether they had reached any conclusions.

Kuniko settled into the exact same patterns she followed when Akira was on one of his long business trips. In that respect, what she told Wataru wasn’t exactly a lie. They would watch TV together at night and laugh, and if Wataru went to bed without brushing his teeth, she would get angry at him, as always. When Katchan called after nine o’clock at night, she would say, “He has to understand. Our family isn’t run like his family.” It was the exact same thing she always said. No special treatment. Same old Mom.

When Wataru woke up in the morning before the last day of school, his right cheek was swollen and red. It hurt so much he could barely open his mouth. His mother took a look. “Your gum’s swollen,” she announced. “You need to go see a dentist. No school for you today.”

Not that it really mattered—the classes for the year were pretty much over, and he wouldn’t be able to get in the pool for P.E. in his condition anyway. Wataru did as he was told, and before lunchtime rolled around, he was sitting in the waiting room at the dentist’s office.

It wasn’t a cavity, said the dentist, it was gingivitis. “Don’t normally see this in children,” he said, and asked whether Wataru had eaten something hard recently, maybe cut his gum? Had his mom said anything about him grinding his teeth at night?

The dentist fixed him up, and though the swelling didn’t go down, the pain wasn’t so bad. He was told there was a chance that he might run a fever, and sure enough, he was starting to shiver. Even under the hot summer sun he didn’t break a sweat.

He got home to find his mother out shopping. There was a note on the kitchen table that read, “Put on your new pajamas and get some sleep.”

He wasn’t
that
sick. A quick snooze on the couch sounded like a better idea. He had just flopped down when the phone rang.

Maybe it’s Grandma? Or Uncle Lou. Or it could even be Grandma in Odawara.
The last time she called she started crying right away. Wataru didn’t fancy the idea of talking to her right then.

Reluctantly he picked up the receiver. He heard a woman’s voice, unfamiliar, maybe a salesperson.

“Hello, Kuniko Mitani?”

He tried to tell the caller that his mother wasn’t home, but the swelling in his mouth and the lingering effects of the anesthesia made it hard to say anything coherent. Meanwhile, the woman on the line continued talking.

“I heard from a colleague that you called the office yesterday. I thought we agreed last time that you wouldn’t call here…did you forget, perhaps?”

It was a pretty and polite voice, but Wataru could hear a little bit of anger simmering beneath the surface. She was talking a little too high, a little too fast.
What kind of a salesperson talks like this?

“…This sort of, well, harassment—look, I’m human too, and there’s only so much I can take. I don’t think that us meeting and talking would be particularly fruitful either, to be honest.”

You’ve got the wrong number, Wataru attempted to explain, when the woman with the strange voice began talking faster, each word hitting the receiver with the force of a punch.

“Akira says that if you insist on carrying on like this, a divorce trial isn’t out of the question. He’s quite angry. I really think you might want to reconsider your actions. That’s all I wanted to say. Don’t call the office again. I’ve already received complaints from my superiors about personal affairs intruding on work.”

Wataru sensed that she was about to hang up the phone, so he blurted, “I’m noph my mother!”

The silence that followed rang in his ears. The receiver echoed Wataru’s voice.

“Heffo?” Wataru managed through swollen lips. “Thiff ith Wataru. Wataru Mitani.”

He heard a faint noise like someone swallowing on the other side. Then there was a click. She had hung up.

The telephone call had lasted only a few moments, but it caused Wataru to break out in a cold sweat.

Without a doubt—that was
her
. Dad’s other woman.

That was the woman Akira Mitani was living with. The woman he wanted to end his marriage to Kuniko for. The woman he wanted to marry.

She had a pretty voice—like a television announcer’s—Wataru thought. He hated himself for thinking it.

The strength went out of his knees, and he knelt down on the floor. That’s when he heard the other voice, sweet and small—a voice he had completely forgotten about.

“Wataru, are you okay?”

Wataru jerked upright and looked around from where he was on the floor. No one was there, of course. That sweet, mysterious girl’s voice.

“Don’t cry, Wataru. I’m with you now.”

The words seemed to come from nowhere. Immediately, Wataru felt the pain in his chest lighten.

“Where are you?” he asked the air around him, and the girl answered, “With you, like I said.”

“Then why can’t I see you?”

“I can see you, but I’m afraid you can’t see me.” He heard a light sigh. There was nothing to see, no touch of breath upon his cheek, but he had the distinct impression that if she were here, her breath would smell like candy.

“You’ve forgotten about me, haven’t you, Wataru? You’ve forgotten what I told you.”

This was true. With all that was going on, Wataru had run out of room in his head to ponder the mystery of a girl who couldn’t be seen.

More than that, all his memories of that time, the mysterious girl’s voice, searching his room for the source, taking pictures—all those memories seemed vague, shrouded in a misty veil. They were there when he thought about them, but they seemed so distant.

“You’re right…I-I forgot about you.”

“Because the Watchers didn’t pass you as a Traveler,” the girl said, a sharp edge to her voice. “You came here once, didn’t you? But they kicked you out. That’s why your memory of me has faded.”

Wataru didn’t have any idea what she was talking about. It all seemed to make sense in an odd way, but he couldn’t imagine why. “Wait a minute, where is ‘here’?”

The girl sighed again. “Why Vision, of course. Not that that word means anything to you now.”

No, no it doesn’t.

“In any case, I’m your friend, Wataru. If you can make it over here, I can help you out in lots of ways. Please, try to find another way into Vision. I know you can do it.”

Wataru started to wonder if he was dreaming. Maybe the shock of the phone call had knocked him out. That had to be it.

Wataru didn’t tell Kuniko about the phone call from the other woman.

His mom already seemed tired enough as it was. He wondered where she had been out shopping, because when she came home after the long summer day, her shoes were worn and caked with grit.

That night, when Kuniko fell asleep, Wataru snuck outside.

He didn’t know where he was going at first. He walked aimlessly, gazing up at the night sky, thinking maybe he would cool off a bit before going back home. He could go to the park and ride on all the swings. He could do whatever he wanted, anything to get his mind off the earlier events of the day.

As he walked he had an idea.
I know, I’ll go see Katchan.
Summer vacation was the day after tomorrow. Mr. and Mrs. Komura would undoubtedly allow him to stay. Then they could play
Streetfighter Zero III
all night. His mom wouldn’t get mad at him for staying at Katchan’s, either. Not now.

He walked, slowly formulating his plan, and when he looked up again he noticed that he was standing in front of the haunted Daimatsu building. Trees at the Mihashi Shrine swayed back and forth in the thick summer night air.

This isn’t the way to Katchan’s. Why did I come here?
He had a funny feeling that someone had called him here.

Someone was inside the building—behind the wall of hanging tarps. It was more than one or two people. They were talking in hushed voices. Actually, they were arguing.

Wataru lifted up a stretch of tarp and slid quickly inside. He immediately bumped into a pair of grimy legs and feet wearing rubber flip-flops.

“Whoa! What the—who’s he?!”

The owner of the legs cried out and stumbled back, then lashed out with a foot. Wataru quickly rolled away so as not to be stepped on, but he was too late. A well-aimed kick caught him in the side at full force, knocking the wind out of him. Everything went white.

“One of your friends?” Wataru heard someone saying through a haze of pain. He clung to consciousness for dear life.

“Don’t tell me you called him to help?”

“Not much of a backup, heh.”

Gradually, the world came back into focus. His side smarted where he had been kicked, and he felt nauseated, but he still managed to sit up.

The area inside the tarps was lit by a large flashlight. The bright light made the shadows of everyone inside long and dark, more real than the people who cast them.

There were three others besides Wataru inside the building. The one holding the flashlight was Joto Elementary’s very own Kenji Ishioka, scourge of the sixth grade. It took a nanosecond for Wataru to identify the other two kids. They were Kenji’s ever-present goons.

Wataru shook his head and forced his eyes to focus. That’s when he realized that a fourth person was also present. This unlucky soul was on the ground with his face pressed into the dirt. One of Kenji’s boys was on his back, grinding a knee into his spine.

Most of his face was obscured by a sticky patch of duct tape, but it was still clear who it was.

“Ah!” Wataru yelped, the effort sending a stab of pain through his side. He clutched at his belly with both hands.

Pressed to the ground, his mouth wrapped in tape, and one of the Ishioka gang pressing him into the dirt, was Mitsuru. His eyes were opened wide as he looked back at Wataru. He was asking something. He wanted something.

“Wh-what do you think you’re doing?!” Wataru said. He meant for it to be a shout, but he was afraid it would hurt his side too much, so the words came out in little more than a hoarse whisper.

Kenji and his pals laughed until they were practically rolling on the ground. It was harsh, evil laughter.
They’ll hear you outside. What about the nice priest at Mihashi Shrine, where is he?

“You’re a funny guy, you know that?” one of them said.

“What are you doing?” Kenji parroted with a sneer.

Wataru found himself unable to stand, so he got up on his knees. Slowly, he was able to move forward on his knee toward the spot where Mitsuru was lying. One of Kenji’s crew took a step in Wataru’s direction, and kicked him swiftly on the side of the head, sending him sprawling on the ground with a loud thud.

Why aren’t any grown-ups coming to help? Can’t they hear all the noise they’re making in here?

“Bull’s-eye!”

“A perfect headshot, that one.”

“Let me take a swing. Gotta practice!”

Wataru tried to sit up and lurch aside to avoid the next blow, but his head rattled and his eyes spun. He took the knee square in the back.

Collapsing on the ground, he came face-to-face with Mitsuru. Their eyes locked.

Wataru clung to the edge of consciousness. He felt no pain. He felt nothing but a low burning sensation, like a bad fever. His vision narrowed, and he couldn’t tell up from down. All he could see were Mitsuru’s big black eyes staring into his own. Somehow, that powerful gaze gave Wataru an anchor, something to cling to, a life rope thrown to a tiny craft on the choppy seas of awareness.

He’s trying to tell me something —his mouth is moving beneath the tape.

—Take it off.

You want me to take off the tape?

—Take it off, quick!

Kenji chortled triumphantly and slammed a foot down on Wataru’s backside, causing him to bounce. He moved his right hand a little bit.

—That’s right, use your hand, take it off.