1-3

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Volume 1
Chapter 1-3

“…It’s still too expensive~”

On the way home after work, Shinkurou, who had just done his grocery shopping for dinner, passed by an electronics store and saw a kotatsu (1) and kotatsu quilt set on sale at twenty percent off. Seeing this, he lingered in front of the store. In the coming season, he would be thankful for a kotatsu. But after doing the math in his head, he gave up on the idea. Instead, he bought a pack of cigarettes from a nearby vending machine; the brand was the same as usual. He put the cigarettes in his pocket and while carrying the grocery bag in one hand, he headed home.

A cold breeze blew through the shopping district. It felt like winter was approaching. Among a group of energetic grade-schoolers were some who were bundled up in scarves. Their mothers quickly gathered them up and left. Were they worried that as the day grew late, it would get too cold for their children? It was still only October, so all the cold weather and snow was rather strange. A dog that was left tied to a telephone pole drew its body in to escape the cold.

This was the first winter Shinkurou had experienced since becoming a high school student. By extension, it had been no less than a year since he had started in the dispute mediation business. That means that I should be pretty good at my job, thought Shinkurou.

His job earned him few thanks, a lot of hatred, and little honor—yet he somehow continued on.

If this were the case eight years ago, he would not have been able to imagine himself doing it. As he looked up at the setting sun, a nearby flock of crows cawed noisily as they flew around. This view had remained the same since long ago. The mass media always reproachfully warned of the severity of environmental destruction, but in actuality most people did not care. Most living creatures would notice changes in the environment that sustained them; however, there was no doubt that humans were different.

Shinkurou, who walked while pondering such thoughts, remembered that he had not yet read today’s newspaper, and so he decided to stop by the convenience store. The only people in the store were a bunch of unmotivated employees. Without a word ever being said, he was able to peruse the entire newspaper. For Shinkurou, who did not want to actually purchase any newspapers, this was a great store.

The pages lacked any true purpose. As always, they were mostly full of gloomy incidents and scandals. A middle school student stabs his mother to death because “she went to the restroom before me.” On a train, a mother’s crying infant is killed after being taken from her and thrown out of the window by a salaryman. A grade-schooler who ignored the warnings given to him was shot to death by a police officer. A serial rapist who targets children age five and under, and a child on the way home from cram school murdered by a drug addict were a few other incidents mentioned in the newspaper. Living in such excessively gruesome times, Shinkurou once asked, “Do you think God even exists?” To which he had been answered by his childhood friend Ginko Murakami:

“You haven’t decided if God exists or not. It is precisely because he exists that there is only this much happening. The people committing those crimes make up a tiny portion of society. If God didn’t exist, that kind of stuff would be inexcusable.”

If that were the case, perhaps God already had his hands full.

So those were the times he didn’t help?

Shinkurou began feeling depressed. After putting the newspaper back on the rack, he left the convenience store. The chill of the wind annoyed him as he made his way through the streets.

May Rain Manor, where Shinkurou lived, was an old apartment that was only a ten-minute walk from the train station. Surrounded by an abundance of shrubbery, it quietly existed as if the flow of time was different at this sole spot. It was two-stories high and made of reinforced concrete. There were six rooms, no baths, and a communal restroom.

After he walked through the old stone gate and into a relatively spacious area, to his immediate left was a large tree. Being unable to guess its age was one of the most splendid aspects about this tree, which gave off the impression that it was the master of the surrounding vegetation.

When Shinkurou looked up, he saw an acquaintance of his. Having sat down upon a large branch, a lone woman rested with her back against the tree’s trunk. As for her attire, from the top of her head to the tip of her toes, she was dressed completely in black. She wore a black, wide-brimmed hat, black leather gloves, a black blouse, a long, black skirt and black high heels. Attached to her necklace was a single fist-sized skull charm. This woman, who had a black cat resting on her lap, could not be seen as anything but a witch. As this black witch nestled close to the old tree, she gazed at the twilight.

“Hey, Yamie.”

When Shinkurou called out to Yamie, her eyes, which had been staring at the horizon, were shifted towards him. Despite lacking a feeling of vitality, her expressionless face gave off a bewitching beauty. Once she saw Shinkurou, however, a faint smile surfaced upon her face.

“Ah, boy. Coming back from work?”

“Yes.”

“The working look is lovely. Make sure to do your best.”

She said this in a very theatrical tone, but it did not feel the least bit out of place. This was probably because her existence itself was out of place. The first time that they met, Shinkurou believed that Yamie was a spirit haunting the building. There were some students in the neighborhood who had seen her, but their stories mainly consisted of them screaming and running away. At any rate, she was otherworldly.

Yamie was the tenant of room number four at May Rain Manor and the apartment complex’s most mysterious person. Her occupation and age were a mystery as well, but she consistently sat in the tree at twilight.

When Shinkurou took out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket, the cat in Yamie’s lap nimbly leapt to the ground and frolicked about his feet. This cat, which Yamie kept as a pet, was named David. Shinkurou stroked David’s head and gave him the cigarettes. David skillfully carried the pack in his mouth and returned to his master’s lap.

“Thank you, as always, boy.”

Yamie took a cigarette out of the pack, placed it in her mouth, then lit it with a match. Using matches instead of a lighter must have been a quirk of hers. She gently waved the match she had used, and—like magic—it went out. Yamie held the cigarette between her leather-clad fingers and blew out a puff of smoke. The wisp of smoke rode upon the passing breeze, then dissipated into the air. Shinkurou did not care much for cigarettes. When he saw someone smoking right in front of him, he felt uncomfortable. However, Yamie and one other person he knew were exceptions. He had grown accustom to them doing it, and rather if they were not to smoke, then it would feel unnatural to him.

“I think I asked you before, but is that skull real?”

“This?”

Yamie raised the skull up as if she were trying to hold it towards the setting sun.

“Well, this, you see, it was once a part of the man I loved.”

“Huh?”

“He was a strong man with a sense of justice, but… In any case, he said he wanted to report on the truth of society, so he became a freelance journalist and traveled around the world. As for when he returned, it’s actually quite an unusual story to tell. During his final moments, a conflict arose in a developing country where he was reporting. There, he stepped on a landmine and the sudden explosion blew off his leg and killed him. The place where his corpse was had been completely burned down. However, thanks to his will, he was brought back to me. I had then decided to wear this single, last part of him. It’s my own way of honoring him. If by doing this, it’s like having his spirit beside me, then he will always be on my mind.”

“Is, is that so…? Then, is that why you always wear black?”

“Yes, these are mourning clothes.”

“I’m sorry. I asked you something really strange…”

As Shinkurou looked down apologetically, Yamie calmly blew out a puff of smoke.

“For a story that I made up just now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Huh?”

“A full-grown man with a skull this size? You didn’t even consider using common sense.”

He now saw what she was talking about, but when she said it in such a matter-of-fact manner, he wondered how he was able to completely believe her story in the first place. It was probably because when it came to Yamie, strange things like that seemed possible.

“Um… so, what is it then?”

“This is something I found at a street stall a long time ago, in a foreign country. The shop owner had cut his prices again and again, eventually giving up on selling anything. But when I came, he cried and pleaded to me. Since the prices had been lowered so much, I bought something. It’s a fairly pleasant memory of mine. It suited me so I kept it. It’s probably the processed skull of a monkey fetus.”

“A monkey…?”

“By the way, the reason that I wear black is purely for fashion. As for when black clothing became popular, it was at the end of World War I in Paris, and the mourning dresses of widows were adopted for use by prostitutes. The accepted theory is simply because they were very attractive. The men being tantalized by the heartbroken women and the black having brought out their beauty are also theories. But I suppose one could say that any mental state can make a woman beautiful.”

“Ah, is that so…”

Shinkurou did not really understand her but he nodded his head anyway.

Yamie confusing Shinkurou was a common occurrence. Even though she thoroughly thought things out, there was no method to it.

Shinkurou remembered the groceries that he had bought and decided to head back to his room.

“Well, I’m going to be—”

“Boy, it seems you’ll have women troubles.”

“Women troubles?”

Shinkurou asked her again, but Yamie had already turned her gaze towards the twilight filled sky and had stopped paying him any mind. Yamie said important things as smoothly as if she were reciting a soliloquy. Maybe she was just putting into words what was on her mind. Regardless, he could not make light of what she had said.

Women troubles, huh…

Because he couldn’t come up with any interpretation, he decided there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

Shinkurou removed it from his mind, and after taking his shoes off in the entry area, he headed to room number five while swinging the grocery bag at his side.

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Volume 1
Chapter 1-3

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Translation Notes and References

(1) (炬燵) A table with a heater attached underneath that is covered with a futon (quilt) to retain the heat.