Authors: Miyuki Miyabe
The debate was on. Just from hearing them talk, it was clear to Wataru that this was merely one of a long string of similar debates that had taken place between the adults in his life over the past few weeks. They had told him nothing, so he knew nothing.
“I think it’s pretty clear the two of them are split for good,” Grandma was saying. “Things can’t go back the way they were before now.”
“Ma, please, not in front of Wataru,” Uncle Lou said, looking severe.
“What’s the problem?” she fired back. “You can’t hide things from Wataru forever.”
“But…”
“We can talk about it until we’re blue in the face—Akira won’t change his tune. He’ll still want a divorce. You ask me, there’s no redoing this, not now. Things get this bad, it’s best for everyone to just end it quickly. Kuniko isn’t so old that she can’t start again, you know.”
“Like it was that easy.”
“No one’s saying it’s easy. Why, I never dreamed I’d reached such a ripe old age, only to receive
this
as my reward. I wanted to spend my golden years in a little peace.”
Wataru was staring wide-eyed at his grandmother.
“What, you don’t want to deal with it, so you’ll just stand by and let Akira do as he pleases?” Uncle Lou roared. “Well, I won’t stand for it. He calls himself a man? I’m ashamed to have him as a brother.”
“Selfish…yes, he’s quite selfish,” Grandma admitted, grabbing a napkin and wringing it in her hands. “But Akira isn’t the only one at fault here, hmm? You heard what
she
said. I remember her too. Of course, I didn’t care for her much back then, but she was dating Akira for quite some time. They were in love, those two. I had already gotten used to the idea that she would be his bride. But then along comes this Kuniko and six months later they’re married. A hare caught by a fox, that’s what it was.”
“Quiet, Ma,” Uncle Lou said with a glance at Wataru. “That’s all ancient history now.”
“It’s not history if it’s going on right now. Kuniko conned Akira, no two ways about it. I knew there was something fishy about how she suddenly got pregnant, and then, once he’d agreed to marry her, she had a miscarriage. I never did believe that one.”
“Ma!” Uncle Lou shouted. “Wataru doesn’t need to hear this!”
“It’s okay,” Wataru heard himself say. “I already know that story.”
Grandma wiped away a tear with her napkin. “Akira is a fool, that much is certain. A big, dumb fool. But no matter how foolish he may be, he’s still my son. When a man his age wants something so much, why not give him a little happiness? If Kuniko says she won’t give him up, then I’ll just have to beg her. I’ll go down on my knees if that will satisfy her, I’ll do anything.”
Grandma began to weep openly.
“What about Wataru?” Uncle Lou said, his voice barely a whisper.
“We’ll take him in,” Grandma said decisively. “He
is
the only heir to the Mitani name. And it’ll make things easier for Kuniko to remarry, won’t it?”
Wataru felt dizzy. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to sit in his chair. He felt like he was going to fall on the ground.
Just then, the bedroom door opened, and his mom walked out, drifting like a ghost.
“Go home, please,” she said, staring straight at Grandma.
Wataru’s mother looked like she had shrunk to half her weight in only half a day. But her voice was firm. “This is my home, and Wataru is my son. Go home.”
“Kuniko?” Grandma said, standing up. “This is no time for you to be coming in here and telling us what…”
“I won’t let Wataru go,” she said firmly. “I’ll raise him—and I won’t divorce Akira, either. We are a family. You have no right to impose your decision on us.”
Grandma thrust her crumpled napkin down on the table. “Who’s imposing? You know what’s happening here? You’re reaping what you’ve sown, Kuniko. You brought this on yourself. Akira said you tricked him. He knows!”
Wataru’s mother faced Grandma without fear. For all her fiery resolve, the older woman took a step back. The air swirling around Wataru’s mother seemed to have dropped twenty degrees.
“I have been a wife, and a mother, for twenty years. If I had really tricked him into anything, how could it have lasted so long? It would’ve fallen apart years ago. That’s not what this is about. Akira’s dredged up this old story to justify his infidelity. That’s all it is: an empty justification. You know as well as I do how he works. He has to have a reason for everything, even if it’s the wrong one.”
Grandma scowled. “That’s my son you’re talking about. No wonder he’s run off to another woman, with you saying things like that!”
Wataru’s mother stared her mother-in-law down. “Go home. Leave this house. Now.”
Grandma moved to step toward Wataru’s mother, but Uncle Lou stopped her. “Ma. Kuniko. Stop this. There’s been enough fighting today.”
Grandma waved a fist in the air. “Satoru, we’re leaving. You come too, Wataru.”
Wataru’s answer was crisp and firm. “I’m staying here. I’m staying with Mom.”
Grandma looked pained, as though she’d been stuck with a knife, and Wataru had to look away.
“Right. Kuniko, we’ll leave for tonight,” Uncle Lou said, grabbing his mother by the arm and walking toward the door. “But, please, think about this when you’ve had a chance to cool down. I don’t want anybody to do anything foolish. Okay? Wataru, I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Wataru and his mother were left alone, the house seeming quieter than it had ever been before.
“Wataru, go to bed.”
His mother’s voice was flat and emotionless, just like it had been when she was speaking to Grandma. It was an order.
“I’m going to bed. Get some rest, and we’ll talk about things tomorrow. Okay?”
Wataru was left with nothing to do but go quietly to his room. That woman who came earlier—Rikako Tanaka—had seemed like an ugly witch to him when he first saw her. But now, his mom was the witch. A witch, dressed all in black, spitting curses as she stirred a bubbling cauldron of poisonous stew.
Wataru sat with his back against the side of his bed, holding his knees close to his chest. He was suddenly very sleepy. How could he sleep at a time like this? But already his vision was dimming. His body, and his heart, wanted to escape from this reality.
Yes, sleep. Sleep and leave all this behind.
As he drifted, he heard the sound of a phone ringing.
What time is it? Who could be calling?
The ringing stopped.
Did Mom answer it?
He could hear someone talking. Now someone was crying. Or maybe they were angry.
Sleep.
He didn’t want to hear any of it. No more crying, no more shouting. All he wanted to do was sleep.
Wataru drifted off, sinking into a great dark abyss.
Time passed.
Someone was standing right next to him, shaking him by the shoulder. They weren’t shaking him hard, but they were very persistent.
“Wataru, wake up.”
Someone was talking to him.
Whose voice is that? So familiar, yet so strange.
Wataru drifted up from the depths of sleep, the voice leading him to the surface. “Wataru, snap out of it. Quick.”
Wataru opened his eyes. He couldn’t focus. Everything was black. He looked up and saw a figure, darker than the dim background.
Mitsuru!
He was wearing a black cloak that looked like a wizard’s robe. Underneath, he had on a black shirt and a pair of black, loose-fitting trousers. On his feet were knee-length boots tightly wound with leather cord. A leather belt was wrapped around his waist, and from that belt hung a short knife sheathed in a scabbard.
In his right hand, he held a staff—a black staff, topped with a sparkling gem that shone with an eerie light.
“Mitsuru…”
Wataru’s mouth shot open, and he looked around.
Where am I?
Wataru was in his room. It was dark with the lights out, but there was no mistaking it—he was lying in bed in the same position he had been in when he fell asleep.
Wataru threw himself at Mitsuru and grabbed onto the edge of his cloak with both hands. “Mitsuru! Where did you come from? Where have you been? What are you doing here?”
Mitsuru gave a sad smile and, resting his staff beside the bed, he bent down on one knee. “I don’t have time to explain everything at length,” he said, peeling Wataru’s hands from his cloak. “So I’ll be brief. I came to save you. You might say I owe you one.”
“You owe me? You’ve come to save me? What are you talking about?”
“Take a deep breath,” Mitsuru said, looking up at the ceiling. The fine line of his nose seemed to shine even in the darkness. “Smell something?”
Wataru snorted. He started coughing.
He’s right, it stinks in here.
“Your mom turned on the gas and let it run.”
Wataru was too terrified to be surprised. Fear shot from the tips of his fingers up to his head like an electric shock.
“She wants to die—with you. She must not know that municipal gas isn’t poisonous enough to be fatal.”
“I-I have to stop her.”
Mitsuru put his hand on Wataru’s shoulder, keeping him from standing up. “There’s time enough for that later. First, you must listen to me.”
Mitsuru lifted his hands to his own neck. He seemed to be wearing something like a pendant—two of them, in fact. He took one off and handed it to Wataru.
It was a tiny silver plate on a black leather strap—very light, and very pretty. “This is a Traveler’s Mark,” Mitsuru said, closing Wataru’s fingers around it. “This will let you travel freely in Vision. Go to the Watcher first and show him this, and he’ll prepare you for your journey. Like so.” Mitsuru spread his hands indicating his own traveling clothes.
“Vision—you mean that place? That other world?”
Mitsuru nodded. “Your memories should be returning to you. Remember?
You’ve been there once. There is a doorway hanging in the space above the staircase in the haunted building. A Watcher waits there for you now. Don’t keep him standing around for too long. Go before the star of morning rises.”
Vision…
That strange world, like the fantasy world of
Saga II
—only this was real.
“So it wasn’t a dream,” Wataru whispered.
Mitsuru smiled. “No, not a dream. Vision exists. In fact, I just came from there. I’ve already begun my journey, but when I looked into the Mirror of Truth, I saw you here. I could have left you to your own devices. But…” Mitsuru chewed on his lower lip. “Like I said before, I owed you one. And, we are alike, we two. We carry the same burden. I suppose that’s why I wanted to give you a chance.”
“A chance?”
Mitsuru stood, brushing back his cloak. “We created Vision—us, the people in this world—with our imaginations. Our thoughts create the energy that makes Vision what it is. It will always be there. But the way in, the Porta Nectere, opens only once in a decade—and then only if there is a place suitable to make the connection. There also has to be someone nearby who wants to change his fate more than life itself—to get back something that was lost. Only then will the gates open.”
Mitsuru took up his staff.
“A suitable place?” Wataru repeated.
“Yes. Like the staircase in the Daimatsu building,” the other boy said, his voice ringing loudly in the rank air of the room. “Staircases are often excellent routes for passage into other worlds. A lot of famous ghost sightings happen on staircases, did you know that? It’s in their nature. Stairs cut through space vertically and make a handy passageway for all sorts of spooks.”
Wataru sat dumbfounded.
“The staircase in the Daimatsu building was made, but it goes nowhere. That’s why the way into Vision opened at its end. That’s where I found it. That’s why the Porta Nectere opened…”
“You…wanted to change fate?”
“I did,” Mitsuru said, showing not a trace of doubt in his voice. He nodded deeply. “You know what happened to my family? You heard, didn’t you?”
This time, Wataru nodded. Mitsuru’s father had killed his mother, killed her lover, killed Mitsuru’s sister, and then lain in wait for Mitsuru to come home from school.
“I want to change my fate,” Mitsuru said, his voice quiet and crisp. “That’s why I went to Vision.”
Gripping his staff, he slid it beneath his cloak. “Vision is a vast place, with much danger, and fearful monsters. But if you can find the Tower of Destiny, the way will open to you.”
“The Tower of Destiny?”
“That is where she lives, the goddess of fate. She listens to the pleas of those who come to her. That’s where I’m going.”
For the first time, Mitsuru’s voice showed a wavering trace of emotion. “And if—and if I’m not strong enough, if I can’t save my parents, then at least, I will save my sister. I must bring her back. She was so small…”
Beneath the folds of his cloak, Mitsuru wrung his hands as he talked.