Evil and the Mask Page 6

  “So you’re going to kill me. Then you did remember. I see.”

  He kept rubbing his foot, expressionless. His left ear, half of which was missing, stood out clearly.

  “You remembered what I said about your education. Not just as a scary event, but as a definite plan that I was actually going to carry out. It looks like calling the girl to my room had an effect on you too.”

  I still couldn’t move.

  “You’ve really got what it takes to be a cancer. You’ve got the makings of a real monster, because you can think of something like this. You’re not passive like a sheep. You can think of killing your own father.”

  Even now his face showed no emotion.

  “Remember this. Happiness is a fortress.”

  My attention was drawn to the mound in the bed. The white light from the ceiling had grown slightly weaker. I realized that my mind was drifting, and forced myself to look straight ahead once more. Father was still there, of course.

  “Naturally the main reason you’ve got what it takes to be a cancer is that you’ve got my blood in your veins. Some day you should ask your brothers what kind of life I’ve led up till now. I won’t be able to show you hell, but it’s all the same in the long run. Because you’re going to kill me. Because you’re going to murder another human being.”

  “No, you’re wrong.”

  I wonder why I suddenly found my voice?

  “It’s not murder. I’m just blocking your …”

  Father ignored my words as though they weren’t worth listening to, kept on talking.

  “Killing a person is crossing a critical line in this world. Why? Because that’s our nature as living creatures. All creatures are fundamentally designed not to kill their own kind. Their instincts stop them. Try reading some biology. Cannibalism only occurs in extremely rare, unusual circumstances. Since prehistoric times all living things have operated on the principle that you don’t kill your own species, instinctively—as humans would say, subconsciously. This has been the basic rule for all creatures since time immemorial. When someone overcomes that with human rationality or will and commits a murder, of course he will start to fall apart. I’m not talking about guilt. From that time forward he will suffer from the distortion of his nature as a living creature, unable to reconcile the instinctive rejection. On the intellectual level, the guilt associated with murder is the pain that comes from the stress of hiding a secret, from the loss of the belief that one is a good person. On a human level, though, as a living creature, it is simply the conscious, outward manifestation of the perversion of killing one of your own. Since long, long, ago, conventional wisdom and morality are simply the products of that perversion, codified and made universal. That’s why it’s stupid to preen oneself for having transcended morality. Wrapping yourself in rational justifications for murder is a fraud. It’s just brainwashing, trying to persuade yourself.

  “Of course, people sometimes kill others involuntarily, in the heat of the moment. What was originally an impulse to attack a different species, or a powerful sexual impulse, is transformed on the way to the surface as it passes through the layers which have been eroded by humans’ reason and will and dark passions, and the aggression is diverted towards another human. These moments of madness burst forth unexpectedly, but they are short-lived. At the stable, long-dormant level that could be called the deepest root of the subconscious, a realm that is closer to animal than human, the sense of distortion this causes continues to fester for a long time as an unpleasant shadow. Animals are hard-wired to kill other species but not their own kind, even if they do attack them violently. When human consciousness stops fooling itself and looks at the situation straight on, it can’t cope. You’re definitely going to become warped. Just like me.”

  I couldn’t help getting the feeling that Father was sitting in his chair in his study, the light behind him, his figure just a silhouette, and I was standing in front of him listening to his monologue. But of course that was impossible, crouched on the floor in this windowless room.

  “Nothing will change. You will become a cancer. You will act as a negative force in the world. By killing me, you will take me inside you. That’s what taking another person’s life means. And in a sense, that’s the most tempting part of murder. Absorbing another person, in exchange for warping your nature.”

  He paused. I still felt like I was in his study.

  “You will suffer from pangs of guilt caused by awareness of that deformation. As a murderer, you won’t be able to stand yourself. Someone who has killed another person is unable to accept any warmth or beauty with a pure heart. Whenever something good happens, at that instant you’ll be confronted with the fact that you’re a killer. When you feel joy in your life, you’ll be troubled by the fact that you destroyed someone else’s. Especially a weak spirit like yours, you won’t be able to bear it. What’s more, you’ve inherited my genes. The DNA of the man you killed, who you denied the chance of life, is embedded inside you. From now on, whenever you feel happy, I’m going to appear inside your head. The image of me, locked in this room, cursing you, starving, writhing in agony. Through my blood, which runs in your veins, as though my blood is boiling inside you, through all your brain cells which you inherited from me, through your whole body. Because you will have taken me inside you. I’m going to be acting inside you. Forever. You’ll never be happy again.”

  I stood there dazed.

  “From now on, you won’t be able to look at the world’s happiness calmly. Why are other people happy, you’ll always wonder, when I’m in so much pain? And why will that happen to you? Is it my fault? No. It’s just human nature. Because that’s how humans have been since the very beginning, creatures with the potential for evil. Because even though they are fundamentally designed not to kill their own kind, they are also able to contemplate entering that forbidden territory, to enter it for real, to possess passions of all kinds. What you should resent is the way of the world, humans’ imperfect and contradictory nature. It’s this nature that gives rise to injustice. Happiness is a fortress. Because happiness is an enclosed space only a lucky few can enjoy, the lucky few who can turn a blind eye to people like you, people with pain and sorrow, who can turn a blind eye to poverty and hunger. You must resent all happiness. People who have killed cannot attain one hundred percent virtue, but they can attain one hundred percent evil. That is your life path. You have power and money. Destroy everything. By sublimating yourself to the fires of hell, to the mighty, evil energy that destroys all people and all joy, you can obtain a piece of an incredible pleasure. Pathetic individuals like serial killers or terrorist bombers will never obtain it. It’s an even greater evil. Even greater.”

  The room went quiet. Though I had been watching my father as he stared at me blankly, I couldn’t tell if the words I had just heard were really his. I grabbed the doorframe to keep my balance.

  “But if I don’t do it,” I pleaded, “Kaori—”

  “That’s right.”

  Father stood up slowly.

  “I will bring many men and they will defile the girl in front of you. If you don’t lock me up, I absolutely will do it. Even if you run away or go to the police, nothing will change. You can’t stop me. I couldn’t even stop myself.”

  For the first time I realized that he was drunk again.

  “If I live I will definitely do it. My mind may be going, but that is my sole remaining desire. I couldn’t even stop it myself. More than taking you to hell, more than pleasure, my whole body is burning for the sight of that girl being completely corrupted, while I sway in my alcoholic haze.”

  He was putting his weight on his good leg.

  “Listen. I sired you on purpose to raise you as a cancer. You have no intrinsic rights. You will be a cancer. Even in trying to avoid it, you will become one. That cannot be changed.”

  At that moment the case holding the death caps slipped from my hand. There was a loud noise and the rough fungi scattered from the containe
r. Father looked at them impassively. Then he took a small vial from his breast pocket.

  “I don’t need those,” he said. “I’ve got this drug which will kill me quickly. You won’t triumph over your powerful father. Starve a revolting, whiskey-soaked old man. If I’m going to starve to death in this room, wide-eyed and suffering, cursing your name, I’ll take this and die in agony. At that moment, I’ll invade you. Invade the cancer who starved a poor old man to death.”

  “But if I don’t …”

  “That’s right, I’ll hurt you both by whatever means necessary. And if you do kill me, you’ll definitely be damaged anyway.”

  “I won’t be killing you,” I shouted, but my voice came out as a whisper. “I’m just blocking your way. It’ll be your own decision to commit suicide.”

  “I’m a corpse already. Since a long time ago.”

  I slammed the door with all my might as though something was propelling me forward, locking my father firmly in the room. He had turned into this weird creature, this stringy, incomprehensible old man who I couldn’t understand even to the very end. I thought of him starving painfully to death, ugly, shriveled, insane. At that instant, when there was no turning back, I heard a harsh, metallic clang. Whether it was the sound of the door or inside my own head, I couldn’t tell.

  WHILE I FASTENED the door handle, while I closed the hatch at the top of the stairs, while I replaced the cloth and the furniture on top of it, not a sound came from inside the room.

  Father, that gigantic, malevolent thing that had been suffocating Kaori and me, had transformed into this strange substance that clung to us like glue. As I weaved my way between the old junk and building materials I thought to myself that I was surprisingly calm. I had wiped my fingerprints off the case with the poisonous mushrooms beforehand, and had worn gloves whenever I handled it. One day, I thought, maybe I’d find out why my father had turned out like that, what had happened in his life. At the time, though, I still didn’t have the leisure to consider it deeply.

  I left the cellar and closed the door silently behind me. I listened carefully, checking that none of the servants were nearby. Holding my breath and tiptoeing along the corridor, I thought that I really was composed. I had planned to go to my father’s room and make it look like intruders had been there, but somehow that didn’t seem necessary. Though I had no grounds for it, I felt that his absence wouldn’t become a problem any time soon. I crept past his room and opened the door to my own bedroom. Kaori was sitting on my bed, wearing white pajamas. She looked at me helplessly.

  “What happened?”

  “What?”

  “You’re white as a sheet.”

  I realized that my pulse was erratic, and that in fact it had been erratic for some time.

  “And you’re sweating buckets. What’s wrong?”

  I’d been so sure I was calm.

  “Nothing.”

  “But …”

  Kaori’s figure, lit by the small bedside lamp, took my breath away. I was seized by a fierce desire. I moved closer, not understanding why such feelings should emerge now. When I asked if I could kiss her, she nodded quietly. I could see her pale skin at the opening of her white pajama top. Trying to conceal my trembling, I kissed her slowly.

  “About your father, thanks. But I don’t know how long I’ll be safe.”

  “No.”

  My arms were still numb.

  “It’s fine. He’s not going to do anything to you.”

  “But …”

  “We talked. He promised. It looks like he’s found himself a girlfriend, so he won’t come near you again.”

  I was determined that she should never learn the truth.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Kaori …”

  I kissed her again, pushed her gently down on the bed. She felt that I was shaking and stroked my head, though she didn’t know why. I undressed her, and then myself.

  “Fumihiro?”

  I felt the fear rising inside me again. I was terrified of my father. Just remembering my conversation with him was terrifying. Suddenly I cried out and embraced Kaori tightly, trying to control my shivering. She continued to stroke my hair. As I held her in my arms, I was filled with love. Her body was warm, and I had eyes only for her. I would do anything for her. To please her, to make her happy, I didn’t care if I had to turn into the devil himself. I kissed her small mouth, touched her breasts, hugged her narrow shoulders. Her body grew hotter. She stuck her tongue in my mouth, wound her arms hard around my back. Then she seemed unsure what to do next, told me she wanted to stay like that forever. She sucked my nipples, thrust her tongue between my lips again. It moved softly inside my mouth, and I felt faint. I wanted her.

  Then Kaori and I made love. She tensed for a moment, looked into my eyes and quietly opened her legs. Her sex was tight, and it was sore for both of us, but I really wanted to be inside her. In the unfamiliar warmth and pain I came quickly, but then I entered her again. The second time still hurt her, but presently she started to cry out in a small voice. At that moment I was in heaven. Kaori was everything to me, more precious than anything else in the world. I would do anything for her. Whimpering, she put her arms around my neck and wrapped her legs awkwardly around my waist, kissing me over and over. As long as I could stay together with her, I didn’t care if I had to destroy the whole world. Perhaps we were mad—but can fourteen-year-olds be mad?

  From then on we made love every night. Kaori’s body was starting to blossom, her breasts growing larger. I don’t belong to your father any more, she told me many times. Let’s stay together forever, she said. As long as I’m with you everything will be all right. Every day she seemed to grow more beautiful. For the next three months, until Father’s disappearance came to light, we were always at each other’s side.

  WHEN I WOKE I was blinded by the strong white light.

  An apartment I’d just rented on the seventh floor of a condominium, a large room almost empty of furniture. The glare left pale green spots at the back of my eyes. Yesterday’s clothes were strewn across the wooden floor. Bundles of DVDs, Shintani’s taste in movies, were still piled up in their boxes.

  I was hungry so I ate some instant noodles to fill myself quickly. It occurred to me that my new self would continue to get hungry as long as it was alive, whether I liked it or not. The idea filled me with a kind of despair. I finished half the noodles while watching TV, then got dressed and went out. On the news they were making a fuss about a series of small explosions in a number of towns.

  Outside it was sunny. I started to sweat, and wiped my face with my sleeve. A thin dog on a leash approached me, a boy and a woman in a hat walking alongside. The dog nuzzled me, its tongue hanging out. I crouched with a smile and patted its neck. I was smiling because that’s what the animal wanted. The boy standing next to it tugged at my jeans. For some reason he wouldn’t let go.

  “Kai,” the woman said. “Kai, stop it. I’m sorry.”

  She turned to me, to Shintani’s obscenely handsome face. I looked at her with the same smile I’d directed at the mutt.

  “Is this your boy?” I asked, though it would have been more natural to say something about the dog.

  “Yes. Kai, that’s enough. I’m really sorry.”

  “You don’t look old enough to have a son.”

  As I stood up I looked into her eyes, reflecting that women with children often seemed to apologize. She was somewhat taken aback, and her eyes grew wary, but she didn’t seem displeased. I’d only said it because until a moment ago she’d been walking like she was bored.

  “Nice clothes. They really suit you. You look beautiful.”

  I knew that I was going off course, but I was waiting for some kind of shock or regret to appear inside me.

  “What?”

  “You don’t look old enough to have a son. You really are beautiful. Especially your eyes.”

  The woman started to look a little nervous. I felt no change in me at all. Without anothe
r word I walked off across the hot asphalt. The sunlight was glinting off the windows of hundreds of apartment buildings.

  I TOOK A cab to the Shinagawa Prince Hotel. When I opened the door to the room the detective was already there. My pulse gradually quickened, and I made a mental note of the fact. He bowed slightly. I sat down and he placed a photo on the table.

  “This is Kaori Kuki now.”

  My eyes dimmed as though I’d been dealt a violent blow to the chest. Her large eyes, her thin lips, the narrow bridge of her nose. Softly drawn eyebrows, styled hair that fell to her shoulders. It was Kaori. As she was now, at twenty-seven. She was wearing a white pantsuit and carrying a brown handbag over her shoulder, looking at something off to the side with a melancholy expression. She was beautiful. I went to light a cigarette and found that my hands were shaking. The detective shifted quietly in his chair, acting as though he hadn’t seen it.

  “Ms. Kuki is living in an apartment in Koto Ward and working at a club called Je le Répète in Roppongi.”

  I noticed that he had spotted my reaction—he’d switched quickly from calling her ‘Kaori’ to ‘Ms. Kuki’—but I didn’t say anything.

  “It’s said to be a high-class club. Apparently their service is limited to serving drinks, nothing illegitimate about it. It seems to be a sound business at the high end of the market. We’re still investigating Ms. Kuki’s friendships, but this woman, Azusa Konishi, is going to try to get close to her.”

  He held out another photo.

  “She had an interview at Je le Répète, and yesterday she heard that she’s been hired. In the future she’ll report to you as well.”

  The woman Konishi was incredible. Most people would probably have thought she was even prettier than Kaori, but for me Kaori was the epitome of beauty. The detective took a USB memory stick out of his bag.

  “This is a recording we took of Ms. Kuki. It’s less than a minute, from the time she comes out of a convenience store until she gets in a car.”