Planet: Chapter 4 - part 2

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Kiichan was forcing himself on my mom, putting his penis in her mouth. Her face looks strange, and I tell him to stop because it feels so wrong, but Kiichan doesn’t stop. It’s like my mind fills with something rotten, like mushy vegetables, and it makes me feel sick. I try to run, but no matter how far I go, every time I turn around, Mom and Kiichan are there, right behind me.

“Ugh…”

I heard a sound. It was my own voice. Oh, it’s dark. Why is it so dark? Everything is dark, nothing in sight. My chest is pounding, like I’m still startled. My neck feels damp, sweaty. Was that a dream? My stomach turns, and I feel something pushing up toward my throat. Not here.

I run to the bathroom and throw up. The sour smell stings my nose. It feels like something pulled out of my head. My tongue tingles with that sourness. I rinse my mouth out at the sink, spitting it all out.

I’m awake. But even awake, it’s there in my head. That dream keeps flashing back. I hate it. I hate it. I hit my head against the floor, hoping to chase it away. My head feels like it’s buzzing, and the bad dream fades. When it starts creeping back, I hit my head again. Buzz, buzz.

“…Hey.”

That was Kan-san’s voice. Did he wake up? Ah, maybe I was too loud with the banging. If I’m making noise in the middle of the night while he’s trying to sleep, that’s not fair to him.

“Mura-san?”

Kan-san calls out, rubbing his eyes with his hand as I walk over to him.

“There was… some strange noise…”

“I’m sorry.”

Oh no, the dream is creeping back into my head. But if I bang my head, it’ll be too loud. I can’t be noisy at night.

Kan-san’s hand sticks out from under the covers, so I grab it and place it on my head. He gently moves his fingers, almost like he’s ruffling my hair.

“…What’s wrong?”

“It was horrible.”

“Horrible?”

Mom and Kiichan. That sickening dream keeps coming back to me, so…

“The dream… it was horrible.”

Kan-san murmurs a soft “hmm,” then lifts up the blanket a bit, as if to invite me in.

“Yeah. Not dreaming would be nice.”

I get into bed, squeezed in tight. I cling to Kan-san’s back, holding him close. He’s warm, and I can smell his scent. Kan-san, Kan-san. The bad dream drifts further away.

“Mura-san, you’re kind of a cuddly person, aren’t you?”

Kan-san’s voice is soft and low, a nighttime voice.

“Am I… cuddly?”

He laughs a bit, as if to say, “You didn’t even know?” Since I’m holding him close, I can feel the small shakes of his laughter.

“When I first met you, you were so bold and individualistic, with this look in your eyes like there was nothing behind them. I remember thinking, ‘What on earth is going on in this person’s mind?’”

As I try to figure out what “bold and individualistic” means, he keeps talking. It’s like I’m only catching pieces of his voice. But I know what “eyes” means. My vision’s good, after all. Everyone envies that I don’t need glasses.

“It was like you were a little out of touch with this world.”

I’ve heard that phrase before, “out of touch with this world.” I can’t remember what it means, though. I like listening to Kan-san talk.

“People tell me I’m a little out of touch with this world too, but you’re even more so, like you don’t quite fit here.”

He pauses for a bit. Then he says, “I just wondered if maybe life’s a little tough for you.”

“Is life tough for me?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t know that better than you, Mura-san.”

Tough? I’m living, I eat, I sleep. Being here in Kan-san’s room is easy. It’s not hard.

“Ah… talking like this, it’s hard to get to sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep. The dream was horrible.”

He laughs again, a soft, shivery laugh.

“Are you really not going to sleep just to avoid a bad dream? You’re like a child.”

“I’m an adult.”

“Oh, my bad. Adults can have bad dreams too, I guess.”

He goes quiet. So still. I wish he’d keep talking, but maybe he’s falling asleep. I want him to talk forever. I reach under his arm and give a light tickle to his side. He jolts and says, “Ah!” His body flinches and shakes.

“Hey, no tickling.”

“Sorry.”

I know you shouldn’t tickle someone who’s sleeping. It disturbs their rest. I knew that already.

“If Kan-san falls asleep, I don’t like it. I want you to laugh and talk to me.”

If he does, then the bad dream won’t come back. Kan-san’s hand settles over mine, its warmth spreading slowly, like the distant heat of a campfire.

“That’s what I mean by leaning on someone.”

I press close, listening to his voice. So this is what it means to lean on someone.

“I want to lean on you, Kan-san.”

“Then go ahead and lean on me. But try to get some sleep too.”

I wonder what it means to sleep while leaning on someone. My head starts to feel that unpleasant heaviness again, and I cling tightly to Kan-san. His warmth melts a little bit of the unease. With Kan-san here, I’ll be okay. Kan-san is kind. The awful feeling shrinks. Ah, maybe I don’t have to bang my head to make it disappear. Kan-san really is amazing.

Every time that bad feeling starts creeping back, I hug Kan-san tighter and tighter, and at some point, without realizing it, I fall asleep. Then, it’s morning.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

At night, I sleep together with Kan-san. I've memorized Kan-san’s scent. When I smell it, the bad feeling gets smaller. Even after breakfast, Kan-san is still around. He isn’t going out. I asked if he had a day off since last Wednesday was a break too.

“Hmm? Today? I mentioned it yesterday too, but today and tomorrow, we’re temporarily closed.”

Ah, so it’s a break.

“The building where the store is located is having some plumbing renovations.”

A plumbing job, huh? I’ve been to one of those before. When no one was quite sure where the pipes were, we guessed and started digging with the backhoe, only to have water burst out everywhere. They made a huge fuss about that broken water pipe.

While we were watching TV after lunch, Kan-san turned to me, “Is there something you want to watch?”

My favorite shows are on at night. During the day, I flip through channels, looking for something interesting.

“I’m heading out for a bit. Do you want to come with me?” Kan-san asked.

Heading out on a day off? Maybe he’s working somewhere else. He must be hard-working. Maybe I should be working too. I haven’t earned money in a while. It’s late to go back to the site, but maybe there’s still something I could do?

“Where are we going?”

“To an exhibit. Maybe grab some food on the way back, too.”

An exhibit… where could that be? I’m not sure, but if Kan-san’s with me, it’ll be okay.

“Sure, I’ll come.”

“Alright, can we head out now?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll just change my shirt real quick,” he said, disappearing behind the rust-colored curtain. When he came back out, his white T-shirt had been swapped for a blue one, with a black jacket on top. Kan-san handed me something. A green jacket.

“I think it’ll be cold outside, so I’m lending you this.”

“Thank you.”

The green jacket is so nice. I hope I won’t dirty it. If I wear it to a worksite, that wouldn’t be good.

“Actually, maybe I shouldn’t.”

I handed it back to him.

“Huh? But it’s cold outside.”

“I don’t want to dirty it.”

“It’s fine, really. It’s an old one I hadn’t been wearing.”

Old clothes are okay, huh?

“Oh, actually, why don’t you keep it?” he said.

He’s giving it to me. I guess it’s alright if it’s something he doesn’t need anymore, even if it’s a nice jacket.

“Alright, then. Thank you.”

Some of the clothes I’ve received were either too big or too small, but Kan-san’s jacket fits just right. We left the apartment, and he locked the door with a clinking sound.

Where did he say we were going again? Um… ten… ten… something? Maybe Tenma Building. I went there for demolition once. That was at night, though. I wonder if we can walk there. I don’t know, but if I follow Kan-san, it’ll be fine. I just need to do what I’m told. Ah, this is nice. Kan-san wouldn’t get mad even if I messed up, I think. He’s kind. I’ve never heard him speak in an angry or harsh voice.

Kan-san walks slowly. I follow his shaved head down the road. Flickers of orange catch my eye along the path. Flowers are blooming. Cosmos, maybe? Or was cosmos pink? I wonder if there are orange ones too. When I looked back, Kan-san in his black jacket had gotten smaller, so I hurried to catch up.

It’s good to have Kan-san walking ahead of me. It’s comforting. My dad used to do that, walking just ahead, and I’d follow along. I wonder what my dad’s doing now, on our home star. I wonder if he’s still mad at my mom for cheating on him. He’s a forgiving person, so if she apologized, he might have let it go.

At the station, Kan-san handed me a ticket. We’re taking the train? It’s been a while. I was bending the ticket absentmindedly, wondering what to do with it, when Kan-san took it, slipped it into the machine, and went through the gate. On the other side, he turned around to look at me.

“Over here, Mura-san.”

I mimicked Kan-san, inserting my ticket into the machine. The gate opened, and I walked through. Relieved, I heard a loud beep.

“You forgot your ticket,” Kan-san called out, his voice loud.

Forgot? I checked my pockets, but Kan-san came back, took the ticket from the machine, and handed it to me.

“Careless, aren’t you?” Kan-san said.

Oh, right. Once you pass through, you’re supposed to grab your ticket. I messed up a bit. But, oh well. There aren’t many people on the train, and I sit in one of the empty seats. The train jolts and shakes, clattering along. I don’t take the train often since I don’t quite get how to buy a ticket, but I used to ride it with my dad. Clack, clack… the sound of the train is nice. A gentle, mechanical sound. The view outside the window keeps changing.

“We’re getting off at the next stop,” Kan-san said, standing up. I got up too, but the train wobbled, making me lose my balance. Kan-san quickly grabbed my arm.

“Are you okay?”

The train doors opened, and Kan-san kept a hold on my arm as he led me out. People were packed tight at the exit. Once we passed through the crowd, it got a bit easier to move. The grip on my arm loosened, and his hand floated away. This station is crowded—really crowded.

“This way,” Kan-san said, smoothly weaving through the people. I wonder what kind of work it’ll be. I hope it’s something easy. Are we still inside the station? There’s no dirt, yet it feels dusty. So many people are walking by. There’s old men, old ladies, people in suits, women… lots of people, but no older guys who look like construction workers.

At this gate, after I put in my ticket, it didn’t come back out. I waited, thinking it might, but Kan-san said, “Come on,” so I left it and followed him. Sometimes the ticket comes back, sometimes it doesn’t—I don’t really get it. We climbed some stairs, and suddenly we were outside. Cars zoomed by. Walking down the road, I saw a place surrounded by noise barriers with loud hammering sounds coming from inside. A construction site. I wonder if we’re working here.

Kan-san stopped in front of a glass door. This kind of door can be tricky to handle. The building’s walls had big windows, giving a clear view inside. Maybe it’s a store? I wonder what kind.

“This is the place,” Kan-san said, stepping inside. There’s something a bit scary about it, but staying outside alone sounds worse, so I follow him in.

Inside, it’s a spacious room with no partitions or pillars, just wide open space. Dark-toned artwork decorates the walls. Kan-san leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Don’t touch the pieces on display, okay?” His breath tickled.

“If you touch anything, they’ll get mad here,” he said.

Getting mad… that sounded a bit intimidating.

“They’ll get mad?”

“Probably.”

As I started feeling nervous, Kan-san walked closer to the wall, looking at one of the artworks. I stuck by his side, looking at it too. Black lines on white paper. What could it be? I can’t really tell, but it looks like… space? It reminds me of Kan-san’s universe. I lean in a bit to look closer. Kan-san’s universe feels like you could fall right into it, but this one’s different. It’s more… noisy. What is this? It feels like that crowded place in the station we just passed.

Kan-san moved on to look at the next artwork. Oh, this one’s the same. They all seem similar. What could they be…? There’s this restless feeling at the back of my mind. Kan-san is looking at each one slowly, like he finds it interesting. I’m… not as interested.

In the corner of the room, there’s a table and chair. Since no one was sitting, I took a seat. I start watching the people who are looking at the artwork. None of them look like construction workers. They’re all dressed in nice clothes. Ah, I feel like smoking.

“Um, excuse me,” a woman in a black outfit, a young lady with long hair, said to me.

“We’re about to use that chair, so…”

Oh, they’re going to use it. Was I not supposed to sit here?

“Oh, sorry,” I said, standing up and letting out a little sigh.

“There aren’t any chairs for resting around here; sorry about that,” a young man behind her added, bowing slightly. I wondered why he was apologizing to me. Glancing at the table, I saw a bunch of postcards with the black artwork printed on them. It felt familiar somehow. Where have I seen this before? Hmm, I can’t remember.

“If you’d like, please take one,” the young woman offered, handing me a postcard.

“Thank you.”

I bring the postcard closer to my face. Yeah, I really feel like I’ve seen this somewhere. But where?

“Are you interested in that piece?” the young man asked.

“Yes.”

“It’s displayed over there,” he said, walking ahead. It felt like he was calling me over, so I went along.

“This is it,” the young man said, stopping in front of a painting. I looked at the postcard—it was the same. The painting from the postcard, only bigger, right there in front of us.

“It’s the same.”

The young man echoed, “Yep, it’s the same.”

This piece, just like the others, had that same murmur, that restless, buzzing feeling. The room was spotless, not a scrap of litter anywhere. So clean. How could it be so spotless? This painting, too, felt the same way. The young man beside me stared intently at artwork.

“Do you like this painting?” I asked.

“Me?” he replied.

“Yes.”

“It’s the main piece for this exhibit, so yeah, I’d say I like it.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

The young man sighed softly and then gave a little chuckle. I wonder what he’s laughing at.

“Mura-san,” someone called out. It was Kan-san. The young man next to me turned, his back straightening with surprise.

“Sanwa-san!” he called back, his voice sounded happy. Kan-san paused for a moment, then slowly approached us.

“It’s been ages. I didn’t know you’d come. You could have said something,” the young man said, placing a friendly hand on Kan-san’s shoulder. They must be close. Kan-san glanced over at me.

“So… who’s this? Someone you know?”

“Yep,” Kan-san replied with a laugh.

“Sanwa-san has always been a mysterious type, so I’m not surprised. Still doing carvings, right? Is it still part of your ‘Trench’ series?”

Kan-san went quiet for a second. “The trench and the depths are the same, but now I’m carving people,” he replied.

“Oh, surprising. I thought you said people weren’t your strong suit.”

Someone called out to from across the room, and the young man turned back. “Thanks for coming today. Let’s keep in touch.”

He headed back to the table and chairs, and Kan-san sighed softly, his shoulders relaxing a little.

“Shall we head back?”

“Yes.”

“Or did you want to look around a bit more?”

“No, I’m good.”

With a “Alright, then,” Kan-san left the gallery. We retraced our steps, bought a ticket, and got on the train. The car was mostly empty, and Kan-san took a seat, so I sat beside him.

“Oh!” Kan-san suddenly exclaimed. “I totally forgot about getting ramen.”

“But it’s still early, so maybe we’ll just have it at home,” he said, scratching his head. Are we heading home now? Come to think of it, we just went to that one place.

“Are you not working today?”

“Nope, I’m off.”

Isn’t that nice. But why did Kan-san come to that place, then? Ah, doesn’t matter, I suppose.

The train rocked and rattled, swaying us along. People swayed too, in a gentle rhythm. It’s kind of fun.

“The sea,” Kan-san said, breaking the silence. “Want to go see the sea?”

The sea… I’d gone with Dad and Mom before.

“Yes,” I replied.

Kan-san closed his eyes. Maybe he’s sleepy. The train rocked and rattled, swaying and swaying… it made me feel a little sleepy too. Just as I was dozing off, I felt a soft pat on my shoulder. Oh, I fell asleep.

“Transfer time.”

Yawning, I followed Kan-san off the train and onto another. This one was a bit more crowded, but I managed to get a seat. Before long, I was drifting off again, only to be stirred by the bustling sounds around me. A lot of people were getting off the train.

“We’re almost there. You sure do sleep well.”

“It’s the rocking… it makes me sleepy.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I wonder why that is.”

The next station was less crowded, and only a few people got off. Kan-san took my ticket, said, “I’ll cover the difference,” and did something at the fare adjustment machine, handing me back my ticket as we exited through the gates.

We walked down a long corridor, descended a set of stairs, and there it was—the sea, right in front of us. Wow, you could really see the ocean from here. I walked over to the railing. Instead of sand, the shore was reinforced with concrete below the railing.

Kan-san sat on the steps, so I sat down beside him. The sky was so blue. The ocean, too—blue and sparkling far off in the distance. There was a salty, damp smell… the scent of the sea. It felt nice.

A crinkling sound caught my attention, and a white plastic bag floated over from the side. It rustled along, drifting here and there, before lifting up and blowing over the railing, heading toward the ocean.

“Oh…”

Kan-san’s small voice murmured as the plastic bag landed on the water, its journey ending. It just stopped there, caught by the sea.

“That’s kind of sad.”

Kan-san rested his chin on his knees.

“Why is that?”

“Because the garbage ended up in the sea.”

It didn’t seem sad to me, but the white plastic bag floating in the water did look a little lonely.

An old man on a bike rode by in front of us, and a woman in athletic clothes walked past. There was no sign of the construction workers, though. The breeze blew—wet and heavy.

“Are you bored?” Kan-san’s voice broke the silence.

“Not bored.”

“Really?”

“It’s interesting.”

A man with a large dog strolled by. The dog had long, golden fur—thick and fluffy.

“What do you find interesting?” Kan-san asked.

“That dog… its fur is nice.”

Kan-san watched the dog closely. When it was gone, his gaze turned forward again.

“…That exhibition earlier, I heard it’s ocean-themed.”

“Exhibition?”

“The prints, there were a lot of them displayed, right?”

There were a lot of those pictures.

“Those pictures had a buzzing feeling.”

“Buzzing?”

“Like when there’s a crowd of people in the room.”

Kan-san laughed, “Mura-san, you’ve got such a unique perspective.”

“I thought it was amazing. Even though I use similar themes, mine are entirely different.”

If Kan-san thought it was amazing, maybe it was. I didn’t really understand what made it so, though.

“I’m glad you came with me, Mura-san.”

All I did was follow Kan-san and look at the art. But he said it was good that I was with him. If he was glad, then it must’ve been a good thing.

“…There’s an artist I really love,” Kan-san murmured, his lips barely moving.

“When I look at their work, I hear music.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, just that. Just the idea that sound can come from something flat.”

I didn’t really get what Kan-san was saying.

“Your art, Kan-san, it’s like the universe.”

“Is that so?” he whispered.

“I want to go into it.”

I want to go into space. I want to go to my star. I’d almost forgotten about wanting to go back to my star. I wonder why. Maybe it’s because of something about my mom.

Kan-san kept staring at the sea, so I looked too. The sea I’d been to with my mom and dad was a sandy beach. I wondered if I’d met Kan-san at the sea, too. My mom and dad weren’t here, but Kan-san was. He felt like family.

“I’ve been carving with the ocean trench as my theme for a long time. People often say it doesn’t really feel like the sea. But I’m captivated by the unfathomable depths, by how much has accumulated down there, far below where light reaches. I’ve never actually seen it, though. Because I haven’t, I’m free to imagine its form however I want. I’ve always thought of you as something of an enigma, like the depths of an ocean trench, Mura-san.”

The waves started to murmur. The wind picked up. Kan-san, who’d been speaking, clenched and opened his hands.

“Sometimes, I get an intense urge to see the ocean. For me, the line between land and sea is like the very tip of a tentacle reaching up from the depths.”

I understood the desire to see the ocean. I liked it, too. The sea felt kind. Maybe it was because of that gentle feeling.

“It’s getting chilly,” Kan-san said. When he opened his hand, I reached out and held it. He looked down, staring at our hands.

“Your hand’s cold, Kan-san.”

“It’s because of the weather.”

“It’s warmer like this.”

“Well… true.”

We stayed holding hands. His hand felt warm. I looked up. The wind was blowing cold. The waves were murmuring. A person in a black tracksuit was jogging by. The sky was slowly turning a warm, orange color, and Kan-san’s face was bathed in that same hue.

“I’m hungry,” I said.

Kan-san chuckled, stood up, and said, “Shall we get some ramen?” His hand felt a little colder.

“It feels lonely when we let go,” I said.

“Yeah,” he replied softly, almost like a sigh.

We took the train, got off at the station, and went into a ramen shop nearby. Kan-san bought tickets from the vending machine, and when I said, “I don’t have any money,” he laughed, “It’s on me.”

“Which one do you want?”

I wasn’t sure, so I said, “The same as yours, please.” We sat side by side, waiting for the ramen to arrive. I’ve eaten at restaurants like this a few times before. Inside, there were guys in suits, a few construction worker-looking types, and some young men.

Ah, I haven’t paid Kan-san back for any of this. My debt’s probably piling up.

“I’ll work to pay you back,” I told him.

Kan-san, who had been looking forward, turned to face me.

“For the food costs? No need to worry about that.”

“But I want to pay for what I eat.”

“You’re so proper, Mura-san,” Kan-san said with a slight downward glance.

“It’s really not a lot.”

“But it’s your money, Kan-san.”

He gave a small sigh as if to say, Well, you’re not wrong. The ramen arrived, steaming hot and sending a delicious aroma wafting up to my nose.

“It looks so good.”

Kan-san slurped his ramen, and I took a bite too. It was delicious—piping hot and full of flavor.

“It’s delicious, Kan-san.”

“I’m glad.”

I was so wrapped up in enjoying the food that it disappeared quickly. When I saw Kan-san sipping the broth, I took a sip too. Feeling full, we stepped outside. My stomach was warm, and the slightly cold wind felt refreshing.

“This is happiness, isn’t it?”

Kan-san looked at me, watching me.

“Let’s come have ramen once in a while.”

“Next time, I’ll pay,” I said.

“No need. Really, Mura-san, what you eat costs almost nothing.”

“But it’s still debt.”

We walked side by side. An old man was sitting at the edge of the road, drinking something. At the big station we went to today, it was so bustling and crowded, but there hadn’t been anyone sitting on the ground like this.

“Mura-san, have you ever kept a pet?”

“No, I haven’t.”

When I lived in the apartment with my mom and dad, we weren’t allowed to have pets. …Actually, maybe we did have one. There was something in the classroom at school. Something rustling in the back… Ah, a hamster. We all took care of it together, but I’d sometimes forget and got scolded.

“At my parents’ house, we had a cat. My little sister brought it home.”

“Cats are cute.”

When I’d nap near the Center, the old man nearby would always have cats around him. The cats would meow, and the old man would feed them. They were adorable.

“To secure their safety and meals, we trade away their freedom, while we demand comfort from them in return. We’ll never know if they actually want that. I felt it was grotesque when I realized this system.”

Kan-san’s words came out slowly, but toward the end, they started to jumble a bit. Freedom, safety—I got that part. …Maybe he’s talking about his work.

“It struck me as ironic that even if we love them, they’re free not to love us back. They’re not obligated to love us.”

I didn’t understand much of what he was saying, but he did use the word “love” a lot.

“I’m sorry, I must sound strange,” he apologized.

I wasn’t angry, so I wondered why he apologized. Walking along, we eventually arrived back at the apartment. Kan-san went to take a bath, and I flopped onto the bed. The sea and the ramen… they were a lot of fun. It was a good day.

I felt something brushing my hair, and when I opened my eyes, it was Kan-san’s hand on my head.

“You should take a bath,” he said, his voice soft.

“Your hair’s gotten sticky from the sea breeze.”

I touched my head but couldn’t tell if it was sticky. Still, since he said I should bathe, I got up. I took off my clothes and removed the key I wore around my neck, placing it carefully on my change of clothes so I wouldn’t forget. I wouldn’t lose it since Kan-san was here, but it felt uneasy to be without it.

“Oh.”

I pulled out a crumpled postcard from the plastic bag with Kan-san’s address on it. When I unfolded it, I saw something like the artwork we’d seen that afternoon. Was it the same? Maybe it’s the same postcard? Ah, that’s why it caught my eye earlier. Makes sense.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

In my dream, Mom and Kiichan appeared again. She had that strange look on her face, and I hated it. I kept thinking, I hate this, I hate this, and then I woke up. My head was filled with an awful feeling, so I moved closer to Kan-san beside me and hugged him tightly. The scent of Kan-san helped calm me down. Go away, just go away, I thought to myself.

A sleepy voice spoke close to my ear, “Hm… what is it?”

“My head feels… awful.”

“Your head? Does it hurt?”

I wasn’t sure if this counted as pain or not.

“Yes.”

Kan-san turned to me and switched on the light. He pressed his hand beside my head and placed his forehead against mine. “It doesn’t seem like you have a fever.” Hearing his voice so close to my ear felt nice.

“Please sing me a song.”

Kan-san let out a soft “Huh?”

“A song will make the awful feeling go away.”

“A… song?”

“I hate having bad dreams.”

“Did you have a bad dream?”

“Yes.”

“You want to chase away the aftertaste of a bad dream with my bad singing?”

I didn’t know the word aftertaste, but I answered, “Yes.” Kan-san chuckled, and hearing his laughter helped ease that terrible feeling a bit.

“You can keep laughing if you want.”

“Choosing between singing and laughing, huh? Tough choice.”

I heard him murmur, What should I do?, and then he started singing.

“Little lost kitten, lost little kitten…”

Ah, I know this song. It’s the one Mom used to sing. Next comes, Where is your home? Meow, meow, meow. I thought, This is nice, this is nice, and felt myself drifting off, eventually falling asleep.

In the morning, as I was eating breakfast, Kan-san asked with a laugh, “Does my singing have some sort of sleep-inducing effect?”

“Barely a minute after I started, you were out cold.”

The bad dream from last night flickered briefly in my head, but it didn’t feel as suffocating. I was grateful for that. Kan-san left for his part-time job, and I watched TV. After a while, I had to go to the bathroom, and as I was there, I suddenly felt a chill in my chest. Wondering what it was, I looked down and saw that the key had fallen onto the bathroom floor with a clink. The plastic string had snapped. I’ll need to replace it soon. I grabbed a convenience store bag from the trash, cut and twisted it into a makeshift string. It seemed a bit flimsy. I started looking for some tape, and that’s when I spotted it—Mom’s DVD. The awful feeling returned, now even stronger with fear. I need to return this; I had completely forgotten. I should return it right away. If I keep it, it’ll make me a thief. I don’t want to be arrested by the police.

I grabbed the DVD and headed outside. I went all the way to the Center, but I couldn’t remember where the vendor’s stall was. I asked an older man walking nearby, “Where are the stalls on the street?”

The old man looked at the DVD I was holding and said, “Ah, at this time, they’re probably closed,” clicking his back teeth together. So the shop up above isn’t open 24/7 like a convenience store. I see.

“When are they open?”

The old man looked again at the DVD in my hand. “If it’s something erotic, they’re probably open from midnight until early morning.”

Thinking back, I recalled that the old man’s shop had been open early in the morning, about the time I was headed to the Center. Since the store wasn’t open, I had no choice but to head back home. Just having the DVD nearby made that awful feeling crawl up inside me. Once I return this, maybe that awful feeling will disappear. Then, I won’t get in trouble with the police. I hope I can take care of it soon.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

I woke up needing to pee, and it was dark. I also felt like I might have to poop, but it wouldn't come out right away, so I pushed hard. When it finally did, there was a sharp pain, like a rip, and when I wiped, there was a lot of blood. Hard poop makes my butt bleed. I really hate this.

It was still dark when I left the bathroom. Must be nighttime. Night… night… I wonder if the street vendor is open. I turned on a dim light, pulled on my pants, and wore the green jacket Kan-san gave me since it looked cold outside. I was fumbling around to find the DVD I wanted to return when Kan-san’s voice called out, “Mura-san?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going outside.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

Kan-san started to say something, but I put the DVD in a plastic bag, said, “I’ll be back,” and headed out. In the dark, the streets looked different, but I knew the way, so I made it all the way to the Center. I’m still not sure where the vendor sets up. I walked a bit, but there was no stall. Then I saw a guy and asked him, “Do you know where the vendor on the street is?” Without saying a word, he just nodded in the direction of the streetlight.

I walked in that direction, and there it was. In the dim light, people sat here and there. I wondered if that guy was here. I looked at the face of the man arranging the erotic magazines and DVDs but couldn’t tell. I didn’t remember his face, so I wasn’t sure what to do.

Then I saw a place where the vendor was shining a light on the adult DVDs. I don’t like Mom like this, but maybe one of these is her, so I kept glancing at them until the old man sitting cross-legged across from me spoke, “Those are two for 500 yen.”

“They’ll really get you going,” he added with a crude laugh. His laugh sounded like Kiichan’s.

“I used to be an actor myself, you know. My stage name was Magnum Kid…”

“I’m here to return something,” I interrupted, holding the plastic bag in front of his face.

“Hm? What’s this?”

He slowly took the bag, peeked inside, and then looked back at me.

“Oh… you’re that kid from last time.” He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“I’ve returned it. I’m not a thief.”

The old man took out the DVD and placed it with the others. Is he going to sell it? Will someone buy it and look at Mom? My chest tightened with a bad feeling.

“I don’t like Mom being naked. Mom’s married to Dad. She shouldn’t be doing things with anyone else.”

The man exhaled a puff of cigarette smoke. Normally, I like that smell, but I didn’t like it right now for some reason.

“Doesn’t matter what you think—Haruka spread her legs wide open for money.”

Haruka is Mom’s name. Spread wide open didn’t sound like a good thing to me.

“...What does spread wide open mean?”

The man chuckled, rubbing his head. I wondered if he was laughing.

“She let guys poke their sticks right into her slutty hole,” he said, making a circle with one hand and thrusting his fingers in and out repeatedly. Watching him, I imagined Mom’s mouth like that, and my mind clouded with something awful and uncomfortable.

The man squinted, staring at me. “You’re just like her, aren’t you?”

“Haruka was useful—beautiful and obedient. We could always rely on her.”

He said my mother turned into a butterfly¹.Can people become butterflies? My mother wore a yellow skirt, so maybe she became a yellow butterfly.

“She went and died on me, just like that.”

The man sighed. Dead. He said someone was dead. Who?

“Sorry for your loss,” he continued. “Tell your old man the same.”

Sorry for your loss. I hear that phrase a lot. It means someone is sad and feeling sorry.

“Is mom… sad?”

“She’s not sad; she’s just dead, that’s all.”

Dead. There it was again. My whole body suddenly felt cold.

“She’s not dead.”

“Are you deaf? I’m telling you, your mother’s dead.”

My body started shaking. This man was saying awful things, too. Mom isn’t dead. She’s an alien, so she went back to our home star.

“No, no… Mom isn’t dead.”

The man replied, “Haruka got slammed by a car. But with all the speed she was on, she was messed up anyway.”

Speed is bad. Dad always said drugs were no good. Once, a guy on site who everyone called a junkie yelled out a loud, “Waaah!” in the middle of work and disappeared, yelling and yelling. My head was filling up with things I didn’t want to think about.

“She couldn’t just be left lying there. She always said she wanted to go home, but when I went to your place, no one was there. So, there was no choice. I cremated her as her common-law husband.”

“No… Mom’s not dead. She’s on her own star,” I insisted.

The man went silent for a moment, then burst out laughing, raising his hands in the air. “Oh yeah, sure. That woman actually believed that dumb story I told her about taking her to some other star.”

A “dumb story” — that’s what the guy at the work site used to say. “Don’t believe his tall tales.” Ah, so it was a lie. A lie? What part? I don’t like lies.

Oh no… I shouldn’t have mentioned the star. Mom told me never to tell anyone, but I let it slip to this man.

“You know, I think Haruka was happy,” the man said, pointing at the DVD of Mom. Mom… happy? I thought happy meant smiling, but she was crying, saying she hated it.

“She was stuck at home all day, looking bored, wasn’t she?”

Was she bored? She was always watching TV and smiling.

“So, I took her out and put her to work. I helped her become independent,” he said, chuckling.

“Women are lucky. They can make money just by stripping. They get to feel good, make money, and eat nice food. Really, what’s better than that?”

Did Mom do that with Kiichan on our star? Did Kiichan go there, too?

Oh no, I mentioned the star… will they still come to take me back? Even if I’m an alien, maybe it’s no good. Mom kept saying she hated it. Is my star a bad place? If she did things with Kiichan, will Dad get mad at her?

“Haruka died while she was still pretty enough to sell her face and body. It’s better that way than living long enough to become a useless, wrinkled old lady. She lived fast and hard, and it was a good end.”

I didn’t really get what he was saying, but the word “died” stuck in my head.

“M-Mom’s not dead.”

The man sighed. “You’re really persistent, huh? I said she’s dead. But you know what? If you want to believe she’s alive, go ahead.”

Mom doesn’t die. People die in accidents, but not Mom. … Why doesn’t she die? It’s because she’s on her star. It’s a good place there. Wait… but if this man is Kiichan, and Kiichan came back, then maybe you can come back from the star. Kiichan turned into this man. Do people return after they age? I don’t know. I don’t know. If Mom came back here and was dead, what would I do?

My chest was thudding hard. My lower stomach felt bloated, like when I’m constipated.

The man picked up the DVD I had returned, one of those he had displayed.

“Did you watch this?”

He was looking up at me from below.

“Yes.”

He laughed again. “So, did you jerk off to your own mother, you rotten piece of filth?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Haruka was a slow learner, but I trained her thoroughly,” he said, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“She got really good at that,” the man said, smirking, “made me a lot of money.”

The word echoed in my head—that. And I saw Mom’s strange face, her mouth on someone’s… that. I hated it. I hated it, but I couldn’t stop seeing it. Shaking my head didn’t make it go away. I hated it, hated it, hated it… My stomach swelled tighter, a sick feeling like I’d been kicked. It clawed up my throat, and suddenly it was coming out. I clamped my hand over my mouth, but the sour taste spilled over, and when I looked down, it was already out.

“Oh, gross! That’s disgusting!”

My stomach clenched, heaving, and every time it did, more spilled out. I felt so sick, but even when I let it out, it didn’t get any better. I just felt worse. Hated it.

“Hey! Don’t puke all over the merchandise! What’s wrong with you?”

Oh no. I’d messed up, someone else’s stuff, and I’d ruined it. I squatted down, trying to clean it up with my hands, but the more I tried, the stronger the smell got.

“You little shit!”

He kicked my shoulder, sending me sprawling backward. My head hit the ground with a thunk, and everything inside went wham-wham like an alarm. I tried to get up, rubbing the back of my head, and he threw the puke-covered DVD at me.

“Don’t ever come near me again!”

The man stormed off. I was surrounded by DVDs of Mom, and they all stank with that sour smell. My stomach lurched, but nothing came up.

Mom’s dead. No… she’s not dead. But maybe she isn’t on her star anymore. And if she’s here, maybe she really is dead. Even if she went back, would she still die? She’s not supposed to die. But maybe she did. I hated it. If she’s dead, I hated it.

Ah, I just want to get rid of all this… all these things in my head. I hate it, hate it, hate it. I slammed my head down onto the ground, and the wham-wham in my head got a little quieter. I did it again, harder. Wham-wham. Thud. Wham-wham…

Something wet dripped down my cheek. Sweat? No. It was red. Ah… it’s red. Thud. Wham-wham. It hurts. Thud…

“What the hell are you doing?”

Someone’s voice, behind me.

“Is he high or something?”

My stomach churned. Something bad, something sick, came up like a gag. My forehead hurt. It hurt. It hurt.

“Ahhh, ahhhh!”

The feeling came back. The sick, heavy feeling. I slammed my head again. As hard as I could, and everything in my head went wham-wham and then just… went dark.

Footnotes:

1. In Japanese, the phrase 重宝してた (chōhō shiteta) means "to find someone valuable" or "useful." However, Mura, misunderstanding the word, interprets it as chōchō, which sounds similar but means "butterfly." This wordplay leads him to imagine his mother as a butterfly, specifically a yellow one, since he remembers her wearing a yellow skirt.

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