Nocturne of Remembrance (18 page)

Her sense of isolation and of lack exacerbated her anxiety. When she got home from elementary school, she would double-lock the door and pass her time as if she were hiding, without even turning on the TV set. She would become absorbed in the books that her father had bought her, in their story worlds. If she didn’t, she might start crying. She mustn’t cry; she felt that not crying and patiently bearing it until her mother got home was her duty. Her parents didn’t say so in front of Akiko, but she could tell that they hadn’t moved because they’d wanted to. She could tell by their faces that they hadn’t marched into their new workplaces in high spirits. If they were bearing it, then she thought that she ought to as well.

When shutting herself indoors became a habit and she refused to venture out even during weekends, her mother did grow worried.
Whether it was motherhood or professional experience, she noticed right away that Akiko’s mental state was deteriorating and actively began to take her outside.

The family’s new home was in an area of Kobe called Nagata Ward. The main street, centered on a railway station and lined with stylish stores, was alive with the coming and going of shoppers who looked just as presentable. Perhaps because of the nearby harbor, there were many foreigners, too.

“What a pretty city,” her mother remarked happily. Even to Akiko’s young ears, her mother’s tone sounded offputtingly ingratiating. Her speech was taking on a Kansai dialect accent, which she must have picked up from talking to her wards and their parents. “This place is completely different from where we used to live. I really like it. How about you?”

Akiko didn’t know how to answer that, but she agreed that the stores and houses on the street were pretty so she nodded.

“I’m glad. Say, from now on let’s go to the harbor area every Sunday. With Dad, too.” Her mother continued without confirming Akiko’s reaction. “It would be nice for the three of us to go to that park we just passed by. And eating at that fashionable restaurant would be nice, too. Oh, and Port Island! Mommy’s always wanted to visit that place. Osaka is also close by so we can eat a lot of cheap but yummy food. We’ll pile fun on happiness. Then we’ll be able to forget the difficult and sad things.” Her words started to get choppy along the way. “R-Really … Since such a terrible thing happened, it’s not fair unless only good things come our way from now on.”

When Akiko heard that, she felt shaken.

Something had occurred before they moved here. Akiko was unclear as to just what, but apparently it had been enough to drive them all the away to Kobe. It had also been enough to crush Akiko’s mother even though she seemed like an almighty guardian.

Suddenly, black wings of anxiety fluttered down onto Akiko. Her mother, whom she had taken to be omnipotent, was actually a weak
being. The scary reality that loomed over Akiko now was that her protective coating was, in fact, quite fragile.

She couldn’t stand it and started crying. Hot lumps were suddenly gushing from her as if a dike had finally given away and crumbled. She hated that she was crying in her mother’s presence. It made her feel miserable and she cried even harder.

“Aki.”

Her mother didn’t try to soothe her. Nor did she get mad. She only hugged Akiko tightly to her bosom so that her groans wouldn’t leak out. With passersby looking at the two of them curiously, they crouched there on the street corner for a while.

In April, Akiko became a fifth grader.

“I know you’ll make many new friends, Akiko.” Her father, who was overwhelmed with work at the new restaurant, still didn’t get to hang out much with her. He failed to pick up on her true feelings, and his words were superficial.

Akiko regretted not having made friends while in fourth grade, though it had been a short time. Soon after they entered the new class, cliques formed based on friendships they had from the previous school year. Akiko was left out.

While all of them were in fifth grade, boys and girls weren’t equally mature. The boys were still just little kids, but around this time the girls, along with the appearance of secondary sexual characteristics, instinctively became aware of their frailty as individuals. To protect themselves, they divided others into friends and enemies and began to form into factions.

The conditions for belonging to a faction were extremely simple. Girls who had good looks or good grades, or who came from good families, were in great demand. Meanwhile, girls who didn’t tended to get left out. The ones who were left out became candidates for bullying.

Akiko, whose looks and grades were only average and both of whose parents worked, wasn’t asked to join any. She still wasn’t familiar with the Kansai dialect and didn’t talk much, either.

In no time she found herself utterly alone.

To the extent that children lack worldly wisdom, they are true to their feelings, and cruel. Left out of every clique, Akiko ended up not making any friend she could call her best. Thinking about it now, however, her treatment then was still moderate. While she couldn’t join any particular group, she was able to converse with her classmates and wasn’t persecuted. It was just that everyone had no interest in her.

Things changed drastically, however, with the start of the second semester.

By then both boys’ and girls’ groups had bosses. And the girls’ group that boasted the most members was headed by Marika.

With grades always in the top three and doll-like facial features, Marika never misbehaved and had the teacher’s trust as well. The term “honor student” was made for her.

Yet Marika always needed a sacrificial lamb. She would pick out someone who wasn’t as pretty as her, whose family was less well off, and who rubbed her the wrong way, and thoroughly torment, scorn, and abuse that girl. She almost seemed to be maintaining her mental balance that way. Indeed, after the girl she’d bullied during the first semester stopped coming to school, Marika was in a great mood for a time.

The next girl that Marika chose as her prey was Tomomi. Quiet and inconspicuous, Tomomi must have come across as a perfect toy for the honor student.

Sensing as much from the attitude of Marika’s clique, Akiko felt terrible. They might not have been best friends, but Tomomi was one of Akiko’s precious few conversational partners.

Akiko decided to at least warn Tomomi to steer clear of Marika and company. That was when Marika appeared right in front of her eyes.

“Akiko, you’re always by yourself. Would you like to join our group?”

She didn’t. But if she resisted, clear as day she would get on Marika’s
wrong side. Akiko could only nod.

“Then take an entrance test.”

“An entrance test?”

“It’s simple. All you have to do is tease Tomomi a little.”

“No way …”

“Oh, are you refusing?”

I’ll target you if you refuse
, Marika’s eyes announced. There was no one in the class who would protect Akiko. Before she knew it, her armpits were sweating nastily.

On Marika’s orders, they filled a bucket halfway with dirty water and headed to the music room. Two of Marika’s lackeys flanked Akiko so she couldn’t escape. As expected, Tomomi was there. It was the one place where inconspicuous little Tomomi shone. Even to Akiko’s ears, she was really good at the piano, which she’d been playing since she was five.

It was her skills that had made Marika, who also took piano lessons, seethe with anger, but this was an area where innate talent held sway. She must have found it unforgivable that Tomomi of all people had a gift that she, herself, lacked. And not getting her own hands dirty was just pure Marika.

The piece that Tomomi was playing was a famous one that even Akiko knew.

Chopin’s Nocturne No. 2.

The memorable opening phrase repeated, donning embellishments. The melody was so pleasant that Akiko reflexively slowed down her pace.

A dry morning breeze blew. Listening to the changing four-bar phrase felt like being immersed in amniotic fluid.

Akiko finally stood still in her tracks.

Remembrance—of something departed, lost—welled up in her. She wasn’t sure what, but it made her heart ache. Sometimes hesitatingly, sometimes sharply, the melody rose and fell.

“What? Hurry and walk,” one of the watchdog girls prodded,
but Akiko’s feet refused to budge as if they were stuck in plaster. The pathos and regret that the nocturne invited was paralyzing her limbs.

The next moment, Akiko realized something at last: She couldn’t let their fangs sink into Tomomi. She was someone that Akiko needed to protect.

She had to turn on the two lackeys and chase them away, now. She was going to warn Marika to keep her hands off Tomomi.

Akiko, however, was suddenly shoved in the back.

“I said go!”

The spell broke when she tottered. Yes, at the moment, she was a captive. If she didn’t obey Marika’s gang, Akiko would have no place left in this school.

No, not just that, she’d be bullied until her mind and body were in tatters.

That mind and body were now moving in different directions. Akiko began to stagger forward, off balance.

The music room had two entrances. As planned, the two watchdogs went towards the front entrance and Akiko went to what was the back entrance.

“Tomomiii … So into it, huh?”

The two started talking to Tomomi. While her attention was turned towards the pair, Akiko approached from behind.

Stop
, her mind ordered her.

Yet her hands lifted up the bucket. They were like the hands of some stranger.

She closed her eyes that instant. But she could tell that the cascade had struck the target.

When Akiko opened her eyes fearfully, Tomomi’s retreating figure was soaked from the head down. Water was dripping from her clothes and from the piano.

Akiko chucked the empty bucket aside and started running like a hare. Feeling like something was chasing her from behind, she fled without turning around once.

She finally stopped running when she reached her classroom. Marika was there, laughing smugly. Her lackeys must have reported the deed to her.

Akiko felt a black sediment deep in her chest.

Besides her hatred for Marika, Akiko despised herself. She’d attacked and tormented someone whom she was supposed to protect.

She couldn’t stand it and was crying. A cold sensation ran down her cheeks. She had never before shed such unpleasant tears. She was so mortified that she wished she could just vanish for good.

Tomomi never returned for class that day. Apparently, the piano had absorbed water and was no longer usable, and she’d been held responsible. She came back to school two days later, but she had terribly lost her spirit. Coupled with the loss of the music room’s piano, Tomomi’s presence grew fainter than ever.

But that was only true for her other classmates. She had grown preposterously large in Akiko’s mind.

Tomomi was Akiko’s feelings of guilt personified. Whenever she saw Tomomi, whenever she remembered Tomomi, she knew her own meanness and pettiness. Being in the same classroom with her was like torture.

Perhaps it was as a humble gesture of resistance that Tomomi kept coming to school, despite being deprived of her reason for being and despite Marika and company’s naked contempt. It was probably the most painful for Akiko. When they started sixth grade they entered different classes so Akiko didn’t see as much of her, but Tomomi had gouged a scar in Akiko’s heart that would always remain.

From that day on, Akiko couldn’t bear to listen to Chopin’s Nocturne No. 2.

When she reached high school age, Akiko chose to go to trade school to learn bookkeeping. She found employment at an accounting firm in Tokyo immediately upon graduating. Her parents had advised her to go to college, but if she did she would have to settle on a local university due to their financial circumstances. More than anything,
however, Akiko wanted to get away from a land that was stained with her self-loathing and guilt towards Tomomi. Tokyo was for her simply a big city other than Kobe.

She’d become completely accustomed to the Kansai dialect after almost ten years in Kobe, but as soon as she moved to Tokyo, she was stuck with correcting her accent all over again.

Tokyo was a melting pot of people from other regions. While most of them tried to speak in so-called standard Japanese, those from Kansai had a bad reputation for not bothering to conform. Akiko, who didn’t want to feel isolated, willingly modified her speech.

In Tokyo, neighbors didn’t meddle in each other’s affairs, which suited Akiko perfectly well.

Here there was no one to protect or to be protected by. As long as she managed herself, she didn’t have to carry any extra baggage. The cityscape, gay yet diverse, was also to her liking.

Her work went smoothly, too. As long as she devoted herself to supporting the CPAs in her office, she was neither praised nor criticized and received a reasonable salary. As long as she didn’t stand out, no one said anything to her. While it wasn’t exciting or fun, she was assured the peace and tranquility that she desperately desired.

Alas, it didn’t continue for long.

January 17, 1995.

Akiko was shocked by the scenes projected on TV before she went to work. Her second hometown had been reduced to rubble.

It had occurred before the morning rush hour. Even so, the severe damage wrought by a magnitude 7 earthquake was dizzying.

Akiko hurriedly tried to contact her parents’ home. She couldn’t get through no matter how many times she tried. When she explained the situation to her employers, they immediately gave her a few days off. The transportation network was torn to pieces, however, and she couldn’t even get near the disaster area. The TV news was her only source of information, but the havoc was rapidly spreading as time passed.

She changed channels frequently to see if any of the broadcasting companies was covering her neighborhood, but every scene that jumped into her eyes looked like it had been bombed, and she couldn’t even tell if she knew the place.

Buildings that had been reduced to ashes. Wavy, caved-in roads, and sundered multi-level crossings. A sunless sky, blocked by scarlet flames and black smoke. Below it was her parents’ house. They were in a hell screen. Just thinking about it nearly drove Akiko mad.