Grotesque Read online

  “Well, wouldn’t that be good, to eliminate them, I mean. It’s not as if she had actually cared for my grandfather,” I said harshly.

  Mitsuru responded mockingly. “You can’t forgive me, can you? You think you’re better than I am because I ended up in a religious cult.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “Are you sure you haven’t lost a few marbles?”

  “Oh? So we’re going to resort to insults, are we?” Mitsuru raised her head suddenly. “I remember not so long ago you were more than a little obsessed with looks. How should I put this? You just cared about faces. I knew you had an inferiority complex because Yuriko was so pretty. But you went way beyond a complex; you were a fanatic. Ever since high school you’ve been really proud of yourself for being half, haven’t you? Everyone laughed at you behind your back, you know. You weren’t even remotely pretty. But you can transcend your body with how you discipline your soul.”

  I never would have believed I would hear such abusive lies from Mitsuru. It was too much. I could not, however, bring myself to speak in my own defense.

  “Your hatred of Yuriko was really bizarre,” she continued. “It was more like jealousy. I know you were the one who leaked the news about Yuriko and Kijima’s son. Whatever Yuriko was doing with the boys in the boys’ side of the school had nothing to do with you. But Yuriko was popular. Everyone idolized her. Still, to get your own sister expelled from school by spreading rumors about her being involved in prostitution—that was really vicious. And until you lessen your store of bad karma, you have very little chance of transmigration any time in the future. If you are reborn, it’ll be as some bug that crawls through the dirt.”

  I was furious. I had tried to let Mitsuru have her say, knowing she’d been brainwashed, but she’d gone too far.

  “Mitsuru, you are a complete idiot. I’ve listened to you go on and on about being at the top of the class, getting into Tokyo University Medical School, and all that crap about osmosis, and I’m just fed up. All this time I had thought you were a clever little squirrel, but you were nothing but a slug. You were just a puffed-up little show-off, no better than Kazue!”

  “You’re the one who’s crazy. Look at you—you look absolutely evil. Why do you think you’re any more sincere than I am? You go through life telling nothing but lies. And even now you’re sitting here thinking how wonderful you are because you’re half. I sure wish I could trade you for Yuriko.”

  I stood up angrily, kicking the chair back as I did. The waitresses, suddenly noticing us, looked up from what they were doing and stared. Mitsuru and I glared at each other until she hid her face. I shoved the bill for our coffee over to her.

  “I’m leaving. Thank you for treating.”

  Mitsuru pushed the bill back across the table. “We’ll split it.”

  “I had to sit here and listen to what you wanted to say; we’re not splitting the bill. You say I have a complex about Yuriko. I have to hear this today, on the day of the trial? I’m here as a bereaved member of the victim’s family. What gives you the right to insult me like that? I demand compensation for damages.”

  “You think I’m going to pay compensatory charges?”

  “Well, you have that rich family of yours. Your mother owned how many cabarets? And you rented that luxury apartment in Minato Ward just to flaunt your wealth, didn’t you? Then your mother went out and bought a condominium with a fancy intercom in that swanky Riverside area. All I’ve got is my measly job.”

  Mitsuru launched into her response with apparent relish.

  “My, you pick a convenient time to start complaining about your measly job. Just amazing. And here I remember you ever eager to boast about the way you were going to become some famous translator of German. But your marks in English class were just deplorable, weren’t they? Hardly what you’d expect from a half! And for your information, my family is not wealthy. We sold our house and our business, and the money we made on that and on the sale of our two cars and our resort property in Kiyosato all went into the coffers of the religious organization.”

  I placed my coins begrudgingly on the table. Mitsuru counted out the change and continued.

  “I’m going to go to the next hearing too. I think it’ll be really good for my rehabilitation.”

  Suit yourself, I wanted to say, but thought better of it. I turned and exited the coffeehouse, walking away briskly. As I did I heard the pitter-pat of Mitsuru’s canvas sneakers following me.

  “Wait! I almost forgot the most important part. I got letters from Professor Kijima.”

  Mitsuru dug through her bag, pulled out an envelope, and waved it in my face.

  “When did you get letters from Professor Kijima?”

  “While I was in prison. I got quite a few. He was really worried about me, so we corresponded.”

  Well, wasn’t Mitsuru just beside herself with pride. I hadn’t heard anything about Professor Kijima for such a long time, I’d just assumed he’d died. And all this time he’d been sending Mitsuru letters.

  “Well, how kind of him.”

  “He said it wounded him terribly for one of his students to be involved in a scandal—just like I would worry over my patients.”

  “Your patients weren’t out murdering people, were they?”

  “I’m still recuperating, you know. Still only halfway in my struggle to return to society, and your cruelty is not appreciated.” Mitsuru gave a big sigh. But I’d had just about all I could take, I wanted to get out of there. Still, if she wanted to talk about cruelty, she ought to examine the way she was using Yuriko and Kazue’s trials as her own personal class reunion.

  “He wrote about you too, so I thought you’d like to see. I’ll let you borrow them. But you have to be sure to give them back to me at the next hearing.”

  Mitsuru passed the thick envelope over to me. The last thing I wanted was a packet of letters I had no interest in reading. I tried to hand them back to Mitsuru but she was already walking away, staggering slightly. I watched her depart, trying to find in her something that resembled the girl she had been in the past. The Mitsuru who had been good in tennis. The Mitsuru who had been so light on her feet during our rhythmic dance routines. I’d been vaguely fearful of her—with her physical agility and her brilliant mind. She had seemed like something of a monster to me.

  But the Mitsuru I saw now seemed awkward, uncoordinated, even in the most casual of movements. Concerned about being followed by detectives, she was so busy looking over her shoulder that she practically ran into someone who was right in front of her. Anyone who had known Mitsuru in the past would have had a hard time recognizing her in the idiot she’d become. This hollow Mitsuru had transmigrated into an entirely different monster.

  I remembered that when we were in high school, I used to think of both Mitsuru and myself as mountain pools formed by underground springs. If Mitsuru’s spring was deep beneath the surface of the ground, so was mine. Our sensibilities were complementary and our train of thought was exactly the same. But now those springs had disappeared. We were now two separate pools, lonely and remote. Moreover, Mitsuru’s pool had already gone dry, exposing the cracked earth at the bottom. I wish I hadn’t seen her again.

  I heard someone calling to me. “Aren’t you Miss Hirata’s older sister?”

  I hurriedly stuffed Kijima’s letters in my pocket and looked up. A familiar-looking man was standing in front of me. He was around forty and wore a fairly expensive brown suit. His beard was flecked with white whiskers and he was as rotund as an opera singer, a “carnal personality” who clearly ate delicious food.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” he said, “but might I have a brief word?”

  I was trying to figure out where I’d seen him before, but I couldn’t place him. As I stood there with my head cocked to the side, the man launched into a self-introduction.

  “I see you don’t remember. I’m Zhang’s lawyer, Tamura. I hadn’t expected to see you just now. I had thought I would try to call you la