Maybe she’s also thought that if Takahara-kun dies, she won’t have to worry about him anymore. Thought he should just die, along with the woman he cheated on her with. Has she spent so much time worrying about Takahara-kun that she could even consider letting him die? Has she been whittling away her own life? To love someone, to sacrifice years of your life, and then consider his death when you can’t do anything about it. His death would destroy her as well. Could she feel she’s been dragged so low that she wouldn’t mind being destroyed on the inside if that meant it was all over? Mineno felt as though she somehow understood that feeling.
“But even if there is some sort of panic, how will we tell the police about this place? There’s no guarantee anyone will let you out of this room.”
“Yeah, that’s the only problem we have left. It’s against the rules to have a cell phone here. The only ones who do are the leader and Takahara-kun . . . And none of the believers will let us tell the police about this place.”
Mineno thought of something. She spoke quietly. “Narazaki-kun is here.”
“What?”
“Narazaki-kun is here somewhere. He could . . .”
“Narazaki-kun?” Tachibana’s eyes were wide with surprise.
Mineno didn’t understand. “What’s wrong?”
“Narazaki-kun?”
“Yeah. He’s here. Didn’t you lure him here?”
“Me?”
“What? Tachibana-san?”
Tachibana’s body had gone limp. There was something wrong. Narazaki-kun first came to our group to look for her. Did they have some kind of relationship? If that’s the case, if I can get her and Narazaki-kun together . . . Mineno’s thoughts wandered. If I just say the right thing, maybe everything will work out. Tachibana was staring blankly off into the distance. Maybe if I tell her Narazaki’s put everything he has into searching for her—that he was so dedicated to finding her that he even came to this cult. That wouldn’t be a lie. I don’t know the details, but it wouldn’t be a lie.
But that won’t work, Mineno thought. I don’t have the courage to say that. I never do what I should and I regret it later. Why? Why do I always do this?
“I don’t know much . . . But I’m sure he’s here,” Mineno said. She was sick of hearing her own noncommittal words.
“Yeah. You’re right . . . Maybe he can get out of here if we start a scene over Takahara-kun . . . Maybe he could get out. Maybe he could.” Even as she spoke, Tachibana’s expression remained blank.
The door opened suddenly. It was the same large man as before.
“Mineno-san, the leader has summoned you.”
Ryoko Tachibana stealthily passed the recorder to Mineno, who took it in her hand behind her back. There was a moment of contact, when Mineno’s index finger touched the tip of Tachibana’s. It was warm. Hate ran through her body. Takahara-kun slept with this woman. This woman made him happy . . .
“Please. This is the only way left,” Tachibana said quietly. Mineno nodded. But she hated Tachibana even more than before.
Maybe if she had taken advantage of me as if I were a child, I wouldn’t hate her so much. Even if I resented her, I wouldn’t hate her like this.
Out of the room, she glanced at the face of her escort. He looked weak-willed and obedient. It will probably work. She waited for the door behind her to close heavily, and spoke sweetly.
“I’m sorry, but—can I see Takahara-kun before we go?”
She felt as though something had passed through her body.
“What? That’s impossible.”
“Please! Before I meet the leader. Just for a second.” Mineno’s voice shook as she spoke. It was actually shaking, so there was no need to act.
“I know that you have been seeing Takahara-sama,” he said kindly. “And I adore him. So maybe we can make something up to buy a little time. Yeah, we’ll say you went to the bathroom.”
“All right.”
“Takahara-sama was just taking something to the basement,” he continued, innocently. “He seemed to be in a rush, so I didn’t talk to him, but if we head there now, we can probably catch him.”
6
Mineno felt her body stiffen as the elevator descended. Even though she had asked to meet Takahara, it seemed like the small elevator was carrying her along against her will.
The door opened. The dimness spread out before her was unbroken by even a single light.
“Oh, where’s the switch?” whispered the tall man. Mineno caught sight of it on the wall to her right, but she was afraid to light up the room. She wasn’t sure what sort of face to make when she saw him. And she knew her face was hideous now.
Ryoko Tachibana’s plan wasn’t the only way to solve this problem.
I can meet with Takahara-kun directly. Even if Tachibana-san couldn’t convince him, I can.
Mineno repeated what she would do again and again in her head. I’ll get him alone. I’ll play him this recording. I’ll confess that I recorded it. Then I’ll lie. I’ll tell him the leader listened to it. And that the police already know. If I tell him that, he’ll only have one choice.
Run away with me. I’ll tell him to run away with me. We’ll run away together, not just from this cult and the police. We’ll run from the whole world. And our lives. Together.
After that, she would tell the police how to find the cult. She’d tell them that Narazaki had been kidnapped. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt guilty. It’s like I’m leaving in Narazaki-kun’s place. But he would be free soon.
When Takahara-kun finds out the truth, will he leave me? He may want to kill me. That’s fine. If I can just have him to myself for a moment. She didn’t want to think about what would come after that confrontation.
I’m sorry, Yo-chan-san, Mineno thought. But please, understand. There are women in this world who can’t be like you. There are many women who, unlike you, don’t get to meet a man like Matsuo-san.
“Oh, they’re here . . . I wonder what they’re doing,” the man whispered. In the distance she could see three men. They were working on something.
“What are they doing? It looks interesting. Let’s be quiet and surprise them.”
Mineno stared at the man’s back as he approached the group cheerfully. She was too nervous to move forward. There was a scream—Mineno’s escort—then lots of voices, but Mineno couldn’t make them out. Someone had grabbed the tall man’s shoulder, and was asking him something. “Who’s there?” Then came an even louder voice. “Someone’s here!” One of the men came running for her. Mineno thought about running for a second, but her body was frozen and she couldn’t move. Takahara was there. Right in front of her.
“Mineno?” Takahara was panting. When he saw Mineno, he went stiff.
“I’m sorry.”
Why am I apologizing? Mineno wondered. But those were the only words she could get out.
“I’m sorry . . . I . . .”
“What happened? Why are you here?”
“Takahara-san!” someone shouted from the dark.
“I’m fine. You take care of him,” Takahara yelled back.
Something crawled up Mineno’s throat. This was the first time she’d seen Takahara like that. It’s no good. I don’t know what happened, but this is no good.
Mineno took a deep breath. But now’s my only chance. I have to do it.
“I was brought here . . . I was careless.”
Takahara couldn’t fully grasp Mineno’s words. He had not yet recovered from the surprise of seeing her.
“Who? Why you?”
“I don’t know . . . But that doesn’t matter.”
Mineno grabbed the recorder in her pocket. But she wasn’t brave enough.
“You’re planning something scary, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“They know. They know already. What
you were trying to do in secret from the leader.”
Takahara stared at her.
“The police know, too. So . . . So . . .”
Mineno’s hand moved suddenly.
“Let’s run away together.”
Mineno reached tentatively out into the darkness. She offered her hand to a man who could see nothing but destruction in his future. A man who could see nothing but this hell, closed off from the rest of the world.
Takahara’s head hurt. That familiar pain suddenly overcame him.
“What are you saying? Start from the beginning.”
“There’s no time . . . There’s no time.”
“What do you know? What are you saying? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Takahara was yelling. His usual kindness was gone. Mineno was scared. But it had to be now.
“I recorded you. Your phone call. I recorded it by accident, and now they all know.”
“Recorded? . . . You mean—when?”
“Here!” Mineno took out her tape recorder and showed him. He stared at it. Mineno had expected Takahara to be upset, but for some reason, he looked calm. Is this Takahara-kun? Is this really the same Takahara-kun?
“You’re lying,” Takahara said quietly.
Mineno shook her head. “You’re wrong. I really did!”
“You couldn’t have. Maybe you really recorded it, but you couldn’t have gotten it to the police or to the leader.”
Takahara looked straight at Mineno. There was no love in his eyes, only the determination to prove Mineno wrong.
“If the leader listened to this, why are you holding that recording now? I’m sure he would hold on to it as evidence. There’s no way the police could know. You wouldn’t give this to the police without talking to me first.”
“I . . .”
“And why are you acting so desperate now? You’ve just been playing with me, right? What are you trying to prove?”
Mineno felt dizzy.
“Stop joking around.”
She couldn’t stop herself anymore. She spoke quietly, without control of what she was saying.
“You know. You know what kind of woman I am. You just pretended not to. I don’t have any other man. Of course I lied, but I do have the recording. I love you. Let’s run away together. Come on. Let’s run away together!”
I hate hysterical women, Mineno thought. But that’s what I’ve become now. I had to do this. My only saving grace is that I have a soft voice.
“I love you,” Mineno said again, even though she knew her words wouldn’t reach him.
“Let’s end this,” Takahara whispered. He spoke with all the force of a man who didn’t have the courage to hurt his lover. “That is, if you think we’ve been dating . . . No, that’s a cowardly way of putting it. This is all my fault. I’m no good. Leave me.”
Mineno began to grow angry. “Your fault? What are you saying?”
“Let’s end this. That recording . . . Do what you want with it.”
Mineno wanted to hit him. But she felt herself hesitating.
“If you were brought here, that means you’ll have to meet the leader.” Takahara smiled. It was clearly forced. “You’ll become his woman . . . He must be much better than me.”
Mineno stared at Takahara as though she had lost all her strength. She was tired. “It’s fine . . . You don’t have to say that,” she said. She couldn’t find any energy in her body. “I don’t know what’s happening anymore . . . But hold me. Just for a moment. Everything feels terrible right now, and I’m lonely. I’m so lonely I could die, and I have nowhere to go.”
Takahara took one step toward her. But then he looked at his own hands. They were covered in dirt. They had touched a corpse.
“You won’t even hold me?” Mineno asked. It seemed strange to her that she could still stand on her two legs. “Really? You won’t even hold me?”
Takahara was just looking at his own hands.
Mineno must have blacked out. She didn’t fall over. She was still standing. But she lost a fragment of her memory. The next thing she knew, she was with the tall man from before, leaving the basement. The tall man was unsettled. He was saying something to her. Mineno tried to listen.
“Takahara-sama said to hide you in my room. And then, this will be really hard, but to find some way to get you out . . . It’s against the rules, and we really aren’t supposed to do it, but I believe in Takahara-sama. And what I saw there . . . I believe in him. He said he would take all the responsibility. I . . .”
Mineno smiled. Takahara-kun wouldn’t give up on his half-assed kindness until the bitter end. Everything would work the way he wanted it to. He would stop her from meeting the leader, so the leader wouldn’t hear the recording. And this way, too, he wouldn’t have to feel guilty imagining her getting fucked by the leader.
If I play this for the leader, I can stop his terror attack, and in the end, save his life. Ryoko Tachibana may be right. To save his life I have no choice but to show this to the leader.
Mineno began to cry. She threw the recorder on the ground.
I won’t save him. He can go through with his stupid attack and die in shame. He can suffer the guilt of imagining me sleeping with the leader.
The man walking next to her was flustered. He didn’t seem to notice that she’d tossed the recorder.
“Keep going. Take me there,” Mineno told him. She was smiling lifelessly. “To the leader. He can do whatever he wants to me.”
7
“Not yet,” the man said, gripping his cell phone.
“The paperwork . . . It’s not done yet. You know what that means, right?”
He appeared to be in his fifties. The suit he was wearing wasn’t cheap, but it wasn’t particularly expensive either. His shoes and watch weren’t tacky, but one couldn’t say they were particularly refined. His face was not particularly ugly, but it wasn’t the sort that would attract women.
He snapped his phone shut, and looked lazily to one side. Next to him was a man in his thirties. He wore a nice suit and was staring at a computer screen. His eyes were large and his eyebrows neatly plucked. Women would find him attractive.
“Do you know why the judge will give him the death penalty?” the man in his fifties asked.
The man in his thirties looked up from his computer to show that he was listening.
“Because he’s all about precedent. When most judges give the death penalty, they’re thinking about the precedents. Judges just follow the examples set for them in the past when they give their verdict. It lessens their own inner burden. One judge doesn’t have any right to make exceptions. If nothing else, he can tell himself that.”
He took a sip from his tea. He did not seem to enjoy it.
“Recently, that practice has been criticized. People have been saying judges should stop blindly following precedents. They should think about each case on its own and give each its own unique sentence . . . They’re right. But at the same time, that would increase the psychological burden on judges. Who’s happy to give out the death penalty? No one really wants to.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Of course, there are also people who say that if you’re going to choose to work as a judge, you must take on that responsibility. Just like they hope that the prison guards who must force a crying prisoner’s neck into the noose will take responsibility for those deaths. Just as they hope that our soldiers will do their jobs and kill . . . Our lay judge system was designed to avoid that sort of dissatisfaction. We citizens divide up the responsibility for the administration of justice. No one will complain about sentencing. Japan and a few states in the US are the only places in developed countries with the death penalty that force their own citizens to decide the sentence. Most people don’t even know that. For a country to force its citizens to take on that
responsibility—it seems like insanity if you’re looking at it from the EU. But still, this system continues. The government needs the death penalty. The death penalty, in other words state murder, allows the government to enforce the rule of law. It’s also connected with our right to go to war. The number of jurors suffering from psychological trauma is increasing. But if anyone complains, the government can just use the media to manipulate public opinion. Rather than discussing the psychological injury caused to a juror, the media can just talk about the importance of taking care of your own mental health. It’s so obvious. This country is heaven for bureaucrats!”
“Why are you telling me this?” the younger man repeated. The older man never really listened to others. Normally, the younger man didn’t butt in much, but he wanted to say something.
“We don’t need a name,” said the older man. The younger man wasn’t sure if that was an answer to his question or not. “We focus on the product. The conveyor belts in factories that deliver products to where they’re supposed to go, they don’t need names . . . We’re just working based on precedent.”
The younger man gave up on saying anything. But he couldn’t turn his eyes back to the screen.
“Humans can generally be divided into two categories regarding their response to trauma. There are those who can savor it. They use it to change themselves and can enjoy that experience. The others just shut down. They protect themselves by not thinking deeply about it. Being shaken to your core is stressful, either way. Which type do you think you are?”
The younger man pretended to think. He held off on answering because he knew the older man would speak first.
“You want to think you’re the first type, don’t you? But you’re the second type. I’m the second type as well. You could say we’re stubborn.”
The older man made a strange face. He wouldn’t normally call himself stubborn. But the look of chagrin soon vanished. He never doubted himself.