Tomohiko Amada stared at me from the bed, not moving a muscle. His breathing had turned shallow again. That thin membrane still coated his eyes, but the secret light within seemed to have brightened.
I wanted to talk more about the attic, but Masahiko was beside me, so there was no way I could bring up what I had found there. It would only prick Masahiko’s curiosity. So I let the topic hang in the air while Tomohiko Amada and I stared into each other’s eyes.
I chose my words with care. “The attic suits owls, but it might suit paintings too. It could be a perfect place to store them. Japanese-style paintings, especially—they’re really tricky to preserve. Attics aren’t damp like basements—they’re well ventilated, and you don’t have to worry about sunlight. Of course, there’s always the danger of wind and rain getting in, but if you wrap it up carefully enough a painting should keep for quite a while up there.”
“You know, I’ve never even looked in the attic,” Masahiko said. “Dusty places creep me out.”
I was watching Tomohiko Amada’s face. His gaze was fixed on me as well. I felt him trying to construct a coherent line of thought. Owl, attic, stored paintings…these familiar words all needed to be strung together. In his current state, this was no easy thing. No easy thing at all. Like trying to pick through a labyrinth blindfolded. But I sensed that making those connections was important to him. Extremely important. I stood by quietly watching him concentrate on that urgent yet solitary task.
I considered bringing up the shrine in the woods, and the strange pit behind it. To describe to him the steps that had led to it being opened, and the shape of its interior. But I changed my mind. I shouldn’t give him too much to think about at one time. His level of awareness was so diminished that even one topic placed a heavy burden on his shoulders. What little he had left hung by a single, easily severed thread.
“Would you like more water?” Masahiko asked, funnel cup in hand. But his father didn’t react. It was as if he hadn’t heard his son’s question. Masahiko drew nearer and asked again, but when his father still didn’t respond, he gave up. The son was invisible in his father’s eyes.
“Dad seems to have taken a real shine to you,” Masahiko marveled. “He can’t stop looking at you. It’s been quite a while since anyone or anything held his interest like this.”
I continued to look into Tomohiko Amada’s eyes.
“It’s strange. When I talk to him he won’t turn to me, no matter what I say, but in your case he won’t turn away. His eyes are riveted on you.”
I couldn’t help notice a mild envy in Masahiko’s voice. He wanted his father to see him. That had probably been a common theme in his life, ever since childhood.
“Maybe he smells paint on me,” I said. “The smell may be triggering his memories.”
“You’re right, that could be it. Come to think of it, it’s been ages since I touched actual paint.”
Regret no longer tinged his words. He was back to being the same old easygoing Masahiko. Just then, his cell phone began buzzing on the table.
Masahiko looked up with a start. “Damn, I forgot to turn the thing off. Cell phones are against the rules in this place. I’ll have to go outside. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not,” I said.
Masahiko picked up the cell phone and walked to the door. “This may take a while,” he said, checking the caller’s name on his screen. “Please talk to my father while I’m gone.”
He was already whispering into the phone as he left, closing the door quietly behind him.
Tomohiko Amada and I were now alone. His eyes remained fixed on my face. No doubt he was struggling to figure out who I was. Feeling a bit suffocated, I circled the foot of his bed and went to the southeast-facing window. Bringing my face close to the glass, I looked out at the wide expanse of ocean. The horizon seemed to be pushing up against the sky. I followed the line where the sky met the water from end to end. No human being could draw a line so beautiful, whatever ruler they might use. Below that long, straight line, countless lives were thriving. The world was filled with so many lives, and just as many deaths.
Something else had entered the room—I felt its presence. I turned around and, sure enough, Tomohiko Amada and I were no longer alone.
“Affirmative, my friends. The two of you are alone no more,” said the Commendatore.
50
IT WILL INVOLVE ORDEAL AND SACRIFICE
“Affirmative, my friends. The two of you are alone no more,” said the Commendatore.
The Commendatore was sitting on the same upholstered chair that Masahiko had occupied a moment earlier. He hadn’t changed a bit: same getup, same hairstyle, same sword, same tiny physique. I stared at him without saying anything.
“The friend of my friends will not return anytime soon,” the Commendatore said, raising his right forefinger as though to pierce the sky. “His phone call promises to be a long one. So please do not worry. Instead, converse with Tomohiko Amada for as long as you desire. There are questions that my friends would like to ask him, are there not? How many he can answer, however, is a matter for debate.”
“Did you send Masahiko away?”
“Certainly not,” the Commendatore said. “I fear my friends have overestimated my powers. They are of a lesser sort. But company men are always at someone’s beck and call. Those poor men have no weekends.”
“Have you been here the whole time? Did you come with us in the car?”
The Commendatore shook his head. “Negative. It is a dreadfully long way from Odawara, and I am prone to carsickness.”
“But still you came. Though you weren’t invited, correct?”
“Affirmative! I was not invited. Technically, at least. But I was needed. There is a fine line between being invited and being needed, my friends. But leaving that aside, this time it was Tomohiko Amada who needed me. And I thought I could be of use to my friends as well.”
“Of use to me?”
“Indeed. I am somewhat beholden to you, my friends. You freed me from that place beneath the ground. It was thanks to you that I was able to rejoin the world as an Idea. As my friends asserted. So it is only proper that I repay that debt. Even Ideas can fathom the import of moral obligation.”
Moral obligation?
“Oh well, never mind. Something like that,” the Commendatore said, reading my mind. “In any case, my friends wish with all your heart to track down Mariye Akikawa and bring her back from the other side. Affirmative?”
I nodded. Yes, that was true.
“Do you know where she is?” I asked.
“Indeed, I met her not long ago.”
“Met her?”
“We exchanged a few words.”
“Then please tell me where she is.”
“I know, but cannot speak.”
“You cannot say?”
“I do not have the right.”
“But you just said that you came here today to help me.”
“Affirmative, I said that.”
“But still you can’t tell me where Mariye is?”
The Commendatore shook his head. “That is not my role. I am most regretful.”
“Then whose role is it?”
The Commendatore pointed his right forefinger directly at me. “It is your role, my friends. You, yourself. My friends must tell yourself where Mariye Akikawa is. It is the only path that leads to her.”
“I have to tell myself?” I said. “But I haven’t the faintest idea where she is.”
The Commendatore gave a long sigh. “My friends know. But my friends do not yet know that they know.”
“That sounds like a circular argument to me.”
“Negative! It is not circular. My friends will know in due course. In a place that is not here.”
Now it was my turn to let out a sigh.
“Please tell me one thing. Was Mariye kidnapped? Or did she wander off on her own?”
“That is something my friends can only know after my friends have found her and brought her back to this world.”
“Is she in great danger?”