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  CHAPTER TWO

  One cold winter night, someone rang the bell at the medical office of the famous neurologist. Dr. S. Weir Mitchell When the doctor opened his door, he saw a skinny young girl in a hole-ridden shawl standing there.

  The girl, shuddering in the cutting cold wind, told the doctor that her mother was dying, and that she wanted him to come right away.

  Dr. Mitchell and his nurse set out for the girl’s home right away. Upon entering the cheap apartment on the second floor, he saw a woman on a broken-down bed, breathing with great difficulty. It was obvious that she was suffering from pneumonia.

  “This is not good.”

  Dr. Mitchell promptly administered medical care to the woman. The woman’s symptoms were severe, but with proper medication and care, she survived, and was finally able to breathe clearly and sleep soundly.

  When he had finished, the doctor turned to explain the woman’s condition to her daughter. But, the girl was nowhere in sight.

  Did she go out shopping? At any rate, the woman was safe now, and the doctor did not expect a sudden change in her condition.

  The doctor and nurse left the apartment.

  The next day, he paid a house call to the woman to check up on her. He smiled, saying, “If your daughter had come to fetch me just a little bit later than she did, you would be dead now.”

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  When she heard this, the woman s expression changed.

  “My daughter … went to fetch you?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “There’s just no way … “

  “No, she clearly ran to my office last night, with nothing else to protect her from the cold but a thin shawl.”

  The woman’s eyes filled with tears, which then ran over.

  “What’s the matter?” the doctor asked, perplexed.

  The woman opened her mouth, and answered, “Doctor, my daughter went to heaven last month.”

  “Heaven? You must be kidding.”

  “I would never joke about such a thing. My daughter is no longer on this earth,” the woman repeated.

  This time, the doctor’s expression changed. Gooseflesh broke out on his cheeks, and his whole body shuddered.

  “That’s… that’s impossible.”

  “My daughter passed away last month. Her belongings are still in that cabinet.”

  The doctor stood up in a daze and opened the cabinet. There, in with her personal belongings, was the raggedy shawl that the girl had been wearing the previous evening, folded neatly.

  This is a true story that happened in Philadelphia in the nineteenth century.

  Kobayashi

  The early summer days felt so long. When Shunsuke Kobayashi arrived home from the elementary school where he taught, it wasn’t even beginning to get dark.

  He opened the steel mailbox for apartment 205. The mailbox looked just like the mailboxes for all of the other apartments in the

  complex. There were a few envelopes addressed to him, and a few to his wife. He took them out and headed to the stairwell.

  The job of checking the mail here on the first-floor entrance hall had become his responsibility over the past few months. The mail stayed there until he got home from work in the evening, but there was nothing he could do about that. There was no elevator in this small apartment building, and it would not do to have his wife, who was eight months pregnant, traipsing up and down the stairs, even from the second floor.

  205 — Shunsuke and Manami Kobayashi

  The fifth apartment on the second floor of this old building was his and Manami’s love nest. Even though they had been married for over a year now, he was still just as happy to see their names together on the door as he had been when they were newlyweds. To Kobayashi, even that slightly dingy, plastic nameplate was a celebration of their happiness.

  He turned the doorknob, and, just as he expected, the door was unlocked. Manami, who had grown up where everyone was either related or knew each other, had never picked up the habit o{ locking her door. Kobayashi thought it was risky, but no matter how much he tried to convince his wife, she just laughed it off and said it was all right. Kobayashi didn’t even bother bringing up the subject anymore.

  It probably was all right. After all, it wasn’t as if the world was really filled with inherently evil people.

  “Honey, I’m home,” Kobayashi said as he opened the door.

  “Hi, welcome back,” chimed his wife from the kitchen, which was adjacent to the entrance. As usual, Manami was gently stroking her huge belly, which looked out-of-proportion on her slender body, and practicing the Lamaze breathing techniques

  she had learned from her doctor, all while busily preparing dinner in the small kitchen.

  “Dinner’s almost ready,” said Manami, with her usual smile. Even though they had been together for nearly ten years, Kobayashi still thought her smile was beautiful.

  “Is it all right for you to move around so much?” Kobayashi asked as he moved his face close to his wife’s belly, almost as if he was asking their unborn daughter.

  “It’s all right,” answered Manami, in a cute, baby-talk accent, as if she was answering for their daughter. She looked at Kobayashi, gently caressed her belly, and smiled a happy smile.

  Happy. Yes, Ym very happy, Kobayashi thought as he looked at his wife, who was busy cutting vegetables on her cutting board. He could barely repress a gleeful shiver as he thought of the many, many years of happiness they had to look forward to.

  He pushed buttons on the phone, dialing the number he had memorized from calling so many times before.

  Rrriinngg … Rrriinngg . . . Rrriinngg …

  No one picks up, as usual. What on earth is going on?

  He gave up and put the phone back in its cradle.

  “What’s wrong?” Manami asked sweetly, as she was eating her plain yogurt from a glass dish. “A problem at school?”

  “Yeah, something like that,” Kobayashi answered vaguely, as he sat down across from his wife. “I guess you could call it ■ a problem.”

  Kobayashi was in his sixth year as a teacher at an elementary school in the Nerima Ward of Tokyo. Of course he had his share of bumps in the road, but he never faced a very serious problem.

  He finally was used to his duties as a teacher, and was also good at getting along with the parents of the students. However, there were always the small issues to worry about, and new ones replaced the old ones every day.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s this one boy who hasn’t come to school for a few days now,” said Kobayashi, looking at his wife’s mouth as she ate her yogurt.

  “Hmmm, can’t you get in touch with the parents?”

  “Yeah, it’s strange, but no matter how many times I call, no one ever answers the phone.”

  “Really? I guess being a teacher is really hard,” laughed Manami, in her usual baby talk.

  “Yeah,” laughed Kobayashi in reply.

  Kobayashi’s current worries were focused on Toshio Saeki, who had not shown up for class for several days. His parents were nowhere to be found either. He had already called the Saeki home over thirty times since the day Toshio stopped coming to school, and every time he called, the phone just rang and rang and rang. He was beginning to wonder if they had been in an accident.

  He dropped his eyes to the student file on Toshio. It said there that his father, Takeo, was a thirty-four-year-old illustrator and that his mother’s name was Kayako.

  Kayako?

  A memory flashed in the back of Kobayashi’s mind.

  Kayako … Kayako … ?

  Yes, that’s it. About a month ago, on the first day of school, after the opening ceremony, a woman stood at the gate of the school, holding the hand of his new student Toshio Saeki. She called out to him, albeit hesitantly. Kobayashi tried to recall that woman’s face.

  “Kobayashi Sensei… um, um, my name is Saeki… um, please take good care of, um, my son Toshio in class,” the woman in the
white suit mumbled, while bowing deeply to Kobayashi.

  “I look forward to having him in my class,” Kobayashi said, returning the bow with a smile.

  Kayako … Kayako … Kayako …..?

  “Hey, Manami, wasn’t there a girl in our class named Kayako?” Kobayashi asked his wife, who was still spooning yogurt into her mouth. Kobayashi and Manami had been classmates in the Faculty of Education at school.

  “Kayako,” Manami repeated. She stopped eating her yogurt and looked off into space as if in thought. “Yeah, I think so. Kayako, Kayako. Do you mean Kayako Kawamata?”

  Yes, Kayako Kawamata, that’s it.

  Up until that point, he hadn’t remembered that he had such a classmate. He couldn’t even recall her face. He must have never spoken to her even once.

  “Yeah, that’s it. Wasn’t she—”

  “She was kind of creepy, wasn’t she?” Manami’s words cut off her husband before he could complete his thought.

  “Creepy?”

  “Yeah, don’t you remember? She wore her hair long, never wore any makeup, never talked to anyone … she always wore white …”

  Kobayashi thought he remembered a girl who always sat in the corner of the classroom, always looking down. But, he couldn’t remember her very clearly.

  “Why did you bring her up all of a sudden?” Manami asked, staring suspiciously at her husband.

  “No, it’s nothing.”

  “You’re acting strange,” she teased, tilting her head as if perplexed. Kobayashi thought that her expression was rather cute, and all thoughts o{ Kayako Kawamata disappeared from his mind.

  “Are you sure it’s all right to eat so much?” Kobayashi asked his wife, who was still eating her yogurt. Manami’s yogurt-eating habits since she became pregnant were nothing to shake a stick at.

  “Of course it’s all right,” Manami said, pouting. She looked so adorable at that instant that her husband couldn’t help himself. He got up and kissed her. Her eyes flew open in surprise for a second, but then closed. Kobayashi slowly slipped his tongue into Manami’s mouth. It was cold, from the yogurt.

  “What’s gotten into you?” asked Manami, embarrassed but smiling.

  “Nothing,” Kobayashi smiled back. He licked his lips and tasted the sour yogurt there.

  The long afternoon finally drew to a close and evening fell over the city.

  Although he had thought of putting it off until tomorrow, Kobayashi finally decided to visit Toshio Saeki’s home today. He put his suit back on.

  “Come on, can’t you just go tomorrow?” Manami pouted.

  “Yeah, I could, but something keeps nagging me. I’ll just be a little bit,” he replied, as he finished putting on his tie.

  “Teachers really have it rough. Hurry back!”

  Kobayashi gave an involuntary wry smile at his wife’s words.

  Manami was right. He did have it rough. He didn’t get paid overtime, nor would his standing at the school go up for doing this. Teachers really did have it rough.

  “Why me?” Kobayashi muttered, as he slipped his shoes on. Manami had come to the door to see him off. He stood up and

  embraced her around her shoulders. Of course, he never imagined that this would be the last time he would ever see his wife.

  Kobayashi headed toward the Saeki house, armed with the map from Toshio’s student file. It was probably only about a fifteen-minute walk from Kobayashi’s apartment complex. If everything went smoothly he could be back home within an hour.

  After passing through an old commercial area, he made it to a very congested residential area. He got lost a couple of times, but after asking some of the neighbors, he finally found the Saeki homestead.

  The house in which Toshio lived with his parents was rather large. In front of the house was a brick gate, with a nameplate that read Saeki.

  “This must be it,” Kobayashi muttered to no one in particular, and pressed the interphone button on the gate.

  Ding-dong.

  Just as he expected, there was no answer. He pressed it again.

  Ding-dong.

  The house remained silent. Left with no other alternative, Kobayashi entered through the half-open gate and headed toward the front door. At the same time, he tried to recall his old classmate, Kayako Kawamata. She wore her hair long and straight… her body looked fragile … she always wore white … he never remembered her talking to anyone … she always sat alone in the corner of the classroom, looking down …

  “Hello,” he called, while knocking at the front door. No answer. He turned the doorknob.

  He was surprised to find it unlocked.

  “Hello. This is Kobayashi, Toshio’s teacher,” he called out as he opened the door and put half of his body inside the entrance.

  “Hello… hello!”

  No one seemed to be home.

  That’s odd, where would they go, without even locking their door?

  He exited the house and walked around back to the garden.

  “Whoah, what’s this?” he said, out loud.

  There in the not-very-large garden, various everyday items were scattered violently about. He wondered how on earth anyone could make such a mess. He saw a lamp with a shade, chairs and a table, broken vases and dishes, a shattered fish tank, a cooler with a broken cover, broken flowerpots and planters, books and notebooks and photo albums, ballpoint and fountain pens, plastic buckets and tanks and garbage bags, vegetables and fish and eggs and fruits. However, none of them looked like they had been left there very long. No, they looked like they had been thrown outside within the last few days.

  “God, what a terrible mess …”

  Looking around the garden, his eyes chanced upon a small mound of dirt in the corner. He went over to it. It looked new, like it had been made within the last few days. A small, wooden board was standing on the top of the small mound of black earth, and on that board were the words “Mar’s Grave” in childish handwriting.

  He thought that Toshio must have written it. He wondered who Mar was. Was it a goldfish, a small bird, or perhaps even a hamster?

  He continued toward the back of the garden, taking care not to step on anything. Broken bowls and mugs, a toaster and a microwave oven, a clock, a fan, stereo speakers—he wondered how on earth one could make such a mess.

  Just then—

  Out o{ his peripheral vision, Kobayashi noticed something out of place.

  Yes, it was clearly something that should not have been there.

  Kobayashi slowly lifted his face. There, right in front of his eyes, sticking out through the aluminum bars on the window, were two arms.

  “Whah,” Kobayashi cried out.

  Looking again, he saw that those arms belonged to a child.

  Yes, they were a child’s arms. Mustering up his courage, Kobayashi moved closer to those arms.

  The window with the bars looked like it belonged to the bath-room. On the other side of the open window was Kobayashi’s student, Toshio Saeki.

  “Toshio-kun … ?”

  Yes, there was no doubt about it, it was Toshio Saeki. But… but the Toshio Saeki that was there was not the energetic Toshio Saeki that Kobayashi thought he knew so well.

  “What? Toshio-kun, you’ve been here all along?”

  But Toshio didn’t answer him. He just looked at Kobayashi with dim eyes.

  “Why are you in there?” Kobayashi asked, smiling gently. “You haven’t been in class, so I got worried and stopped by to see you.”

  But Toshio remained silent. His eyes were unfocused, and it seemed as if he wasn’t looking at Kobayashi, but someone behind him.

  “Toshio-kun, um, is your mother home?”

  As if in response to Kobayashi’s questions, Toshio silently slipped back, and disappeared out through the bathroom door into the house.

  “Toshio-kun … Toshio-kun!”

  Kobayashi hurried around to the front door.

  “Hello! I’m coming in,” he called out as he entered the house. In tha
t instant, he felt something he couldn’t put into words, something terribly wrong, something terrible and ominous about the house. He froze.

  Although not as bad as the garden, the house was in shambles. It looked well lived-in, and seemed a lot bigger than it looked from the outside. A hallway extended in front of him with doors on either side, and right off the entrance was a stairway leading up to the second floor.

  “Toshio-kun, where are you?”

  Kobayashi took off his shoes at the entrance and walked in. He opened the first door on his right. Inside, he spotted Toshio sitting limply on the sofa, staring off into space.

  The room was rather large, and seemed to be the living room. The curtains were closed, probably to block the western sun, and the room was dark.

  “Toshio-kun … what’s wrong?” Kobayashi asked, but again the boy remained silent, staring at a point on the wall absent-mindedly.

  What on earth happened here? This was not the Toshio Saeki that Kobayashi knew. The student he knew was always energetic, smart, and playful, just like any other first grader. But, now …

  “Toshio,” Kobayashi said as he extended his hand toward the boy’s face. He brushed Toshio’s long bangs out of the way and pressed his palm to his forehead. At that instant, Toshio’s little body gave a shiver.

  Kobayashi thought Toshio might have had a fever, but he didn’t. Quite the opposite: Toshio’s forehead was very cold. It was much, much colder than Kobayashi’s always-cool hand, almost as if the boy was no longer even alive.

  “Hmmm, no fever,” Kobayashi muttered as he took his hand away. Looking closely at the boy’s face, Kobayashi noticed that black-red spots dotted Toshio’s forehead, cheeks, and jaw. Both knees were dirty as if he’d been crawling around some dusty area, and his knees were scraped and bleeding.