The sun hung over the horizon like a wound that could not heal. The sky was burnt to a purple-red, and the air was thick and sticky, like sweat on the back of a corpse. Sand and rare tufts of stiff grass crunched underfoot, as if someone had stepped on the bones of small animals. The trailer stood in the middle of this dead land, like a forgotten coffin, wooden, lopsided, with peeling red paint reminiscent of dried blood. The windows were covered with rusty mesh, but even that did not protect against the heat penetrating inside.
Inside it smelled of mold, sweat, and something sweetly putrid; maybe it was the smell of fear, or maybe just old boards had become damp with time.
Akiyama sat on a creaky chair, his back to the window, so that his face was submerged in shadow. In his hand he held a glass of water with ice, which creaked every time the cubes touched the glass. Opposite him, handcuffed to a chair, sat a man.
Fat. Sweaty. His shirt, once white, was now gray from dirt and sweat stains. His belly hung over the edge of the chair like a bag of meat, ready to burst from its own weight. On his wrists, fresh scratches, some still oozing blood. His eyes, small, pig-like, darted around the room but found no exit.
Akiyama took a sip of water. The ice clinked loudly against the glass.
- Do you know what time it is? he asked quietly, almost gently.
The man twitched, as if he had been struck.
- N-no…
- Evening, said Akiyama, looking at the light outside the window. Evening, that is when the sun dies. Like your victims.
He paused, took another sip of water.
- What is your name?
The man mumbled something incoherent, slobbering over his lips.
- What? Akiyama tilted his head, like a dog trying to understand a command.
- Takarihasaharashirarahisatung Shuharanira… the man exhaled, spitting out the words like bones.
Akiyama nodded, and looked at him carefully, then at the man's documents.
- Oh my god, what is that? How are you supposed to read that…
He put down the glass and folded his fingers.
- Takarihasaharashirarahisatung Shuharanira, you are charged… he paused, savoring every word, …with cannibalism. You ate people. Or parts of them. Or what was left of them. Do you know what the hardest thing about cannibalism is? Not the taste. The smell. Human meat smells of despair. Do you remember that smell?
The man began to shake. His chin trembled like a child's before a tantrum.
- With necrophilia, continued Akiyama, without raising his voice. You fucked corpses. Pregnant female chimpanzees. They were killed in front of you. And you watched. You liked how they screamed. How their bellies were torn open by the blows. Do you remember how they screamed?
The man wheezed. A sound escaped his throat, not crying, not laughing, but something in between, as if his soul had burst and now only noise was escaping from it.
- With coprophagia, Akiyama was almost singing now, as if reading a poem. You ate your own shit. And not just your own. You picked at your anus until it bled, and then you licked your fingers. In prison you were called 'shit-eater.' But I don't want to call you that. It's impolite.
He took a sip of water.
- With zoophilia. You fucked dogs. Cats. Rats. Once you were caught with a goat. The goat survived. You, not. You were imprisoned. But even there you did not calm down. You continued. You found ways.
The man began to breathe faster, his chest heaving like an animal in a trap.
- With animal cruelty. You cut animals open alive. Not quickly. Slowly. You liked how they struggled. How their guts spilled onto the floor. How they looked at you in the last moment. You got pleasure from that, didn't you?
- With theft. You stole food. Clothing. Sometimes, corpses. You dug them up at cemeteries. You took them home. You ate them. Or fed them to dogs. Or sold them.
Akiyama put down the glass and finally looked the man in the eyes.
The man suddenly let out a braying sound. Not laughing, just producing a noise, as if his mind was cracking at the seams.
- I… I didn't… he choked. I'm not guilty…
- Of course, nodded Akiyama. No one is guilty. We are all victims of circumstance.
He leaned forward, and his face was finally lit by the dim light of the lamp. His eyes were cold, like the ice in the glass.
- But do you know what's the most interesting thing? His voice became even quieter. You don't deny it. You don't shout that it's a lie. You just sit there. And tremble. You know that all of this is true.
The man went limp, as if all the air had been let out of him.
- I… I'm sick, he whispered.
- Everyone is sick, said Akiyama. But not everyone eats chimpanzee corpses.
He leaned back in his chair.
- Do you know what I want to ask?
The man was silent, his eyes wide open, like an animal before a fight.
- Tell me, friend, do you like fables?
Silence.
- What? The man rasped.
- Fables, repeated Akiyama. Fairy tales. The story of the hare and the tortoise. The wolf and the lamb. About how the weak defeats the strong. Or vice versa. About how we all eventually get what we deserve.
The man blinked, his lips moved, but there was no sound.
- No, he said at last.
Akiyama smiled. For the first time during the entire conversation.
- Pity, he said. And I thought you were exactly the kind of person who believes in happy endings.
He stood up, walked to the window and looked outside. The twilight was thickening like blood in water.
- Do you know what the problem with fables is? he asked, without turning around. They always have a moral. And in real life, it doesn't.
He returned to the table, sat down and took another sip of water.
- Tomorrow you will be taken to court, he said calmly. There they will decide what to do with you. Perhaps you will be imprisoned for life. Perhaps you will be given the death penalty. Although in Japan it hasn't existed for a long time.
The man looked at him, his breathing was intermittent, like a drowning man's.
- Everything will be fine, said Akiyama.
The man blinked.
- What…?
- Everything will be fine, repeated Akiyama. Because you are already punished. You live in hell. And that hell is inside you. No court can do anything worse to you than what you have already done to yourself.
He stood up.
- Good night. Takarihasaharashirarahisatung Shuharanira.
The man remained sitting in the darkness, chained to the chair, with a heart that was pounding like a trapped bird.
The next morning, the man was loaded into a van with bars on the windows. He sat on a cold metal seat, his hands again cuffed, and his head was buzzing like a swarm of wasps.
- Where are we going? He asked the escort.
The escort didn't even look at him.
- To court.
The man swallowed.
- And then?
The escort smirked.
- And then you'll see.
Renji woke up because sunlight had penetrated through the curtains and fell directly on his face. He stretched, yawned, and immediately reached for the pillow lying next to him.
Embroidered on it was a girl with huge blue eyes and pink hair. Renji pressed the pillow to his chest and closed his eyes.
- Three days, he whispered. Just three days until the festival.
This was the last school festival. The last chance to see everyone together. And most importantly, to finally meet Genzo.
Renji hadn't seen him in ages. For the last two years, Genzo had been busy, either with fights, or some business of his own, or something else. But to the festival… he promised to come. And Renji believed him.
He sat up on the bed, hugged the pillow even tighter and imagined Genzo hugging him. How they would laugh together with friends.
Renji smiled.
- Finally I'll see you, he said out loud, repeating the words that Genzo had once said to him.
He got up, stretched and looked at the calendar hanging on the wall. The festival was in three days. Three days and everything would begin.
Renji squeezed the pillow again.
- I missed you, he whispered.
And he knew that Genzo had missed him too.
The plane gently touched the runway.
Outside the windows, gray, overcast Tokyo drifted by. Rain had been drizzling since morning, and the city looked blurred, like an old watercolor. Takamura sat by the window, pressing her forehead against the cold glass. Next to her, in the adjacent seat, Sua was sleeping. His long body was stretched out in an awkward position, his head tilted to the side, and he snored slightly as the plane was landing.
- Sua, Takamura touched his shoulder. Wake up. We've arrived.
Sua twitched, opened his eyes, blinked and smiled.
- Huh? Already? He stretched, cracking his long arms. And I had a dream. You and I were in the park, and they were selling huge sweet donuts there. And Genzo was there too! Can you imagine?
Takamura smiled with the corner of her lips.
- Genzo is far away right now.
- I know. But I still want to see him. We came back for that, didn't we?
- For that, Takamura nodded. But first we need to take care of business. And find a place to stay for the time being.
Sua stretched once more and looked out the window.
- I missed Japan. That smell. The rain. The people who are always in a hurry, but still find time to smile.
- You've become sentimental.
- I've always been sentimental, Sua answered proudly. You just never noticed it.
They got off the plane, went through passport control and picked up their luggage. At the exit, they were greeted by a damp, warm wind. The city lived its own life, cars honked, people went about their business, somewhere music was playing.
They got into a taxi. Sua crossed his legs, but because of their length it looked comical, his knee pressed against the front seat.
- Where to? asked the driver.
- To the center, answered Takamura. To the station.
The car pulled away. Outside the windows, gray buildings, small streets, trees that had already begun to turn yellow drifted by. Sua looked at everything with curiosity, as if seeing it for the first time.
- You know, he said, I thought that after everything that happened, I wouldn't want to come back. And now I'm here, and I feel good.
- It's not evening yet, noted Sua.
- You always see everything so pessimistically.
- I'm a realist.
- It's the same thing.
They fell silent. The taxi turned onto the embankment, and a view of the river opened before them. The water was gray, but ripples of light floated on its surface, and it seemed almost beautiful.
- What are we going to do? Asked Sua. Do we have a plan?
Takamura took out a notebook and flipped through the pages.
- We need to meet one person. He knows about what is happening in the city. Perhaps he will help us understand where Genzo is now.
- Is he dangerous?
- Probably not. But he might be useful.
Sua nodded.
- And then?
- Then we will find Genzo. And help him.
- And if he doesn't want us to help him?
Takamura looked at him.
- Then we will just be there. That will be enough.
Sua smiled.
- You always say that.
- Because it's the truth.
They pulled up to the station. Takamura paid, and they got out onto the street. The rain had almost stopped, only rare drops were falling from the sky. Sua raised his head and looked up.
- Beautiful, he said.
- What?
- That we are here again. Together. I don't know what will happen next, but I'm glad we came back.
Takamura said nothing. She just stood next to him, looking at the city.
Somewhere in the distance, beyond the rooftops of the houses, the sun was slowly waking up.