Chapter 12 The Witch
A day passed, then two, then three, and Mitsuru didn’t come home.
Kenji’s friends went back to being their normal nasty selves, although they still had no memory of the night they went missing. Kenji was the same as he had been when he was found: vacant, soulless. His eyes were open but saw nothing. Shake him and he would fall over, ask him a question and he would respond with silence.
Wataru heard the news from his mother, and couldn’t help but remember Kaori Daimatsu. Just as quickly, he forced the connection from his mind. Kaori and Kenji in the same thought was just too weird.
What happened to Kenji and his friends? And where was Mitsuru? Was he even still alive? Everyone wanted to know, and everyone was worried. Only Wataru knew the answer—Wataru Mitani, the only person on earth who knew everything that had happened.
But when he went to bed that first night and then the night after that, even those vivid memories began to fade. Everything about Vision, about what really happened, was slipping away. Like before, it didn’t disappear completely or suddenly. Instead, the memories wore away like a watercolor painting abandoned in the sunlight. The pigment becomes washed out, the lines blurring into indistinct shapes. The memories were still there, but they had become slippery, elusive things, impossible to grasp.
But the emotions remained. Fear, and anxiety—as though he had to find something, or someone, before it was too late. In contrast to his failing memories, those feelings of impending doom grew stronger with each passing day.
Wataru was confused. He was quick to anger. Sometimes, he would wake with tears streaming down his face, and during the day he was turned completely inward, not caring about anyone or anything around him. During mealtimes he would only peck at his food.
But there is a limit to how much a boy Wataru’s age can take, and he reached it on a morning exactly one week after summer vacation began.
Being afraid of the dark, he had crawled under the bedcovers the night before. He made doubly sure to keep the lights on. The moment he closed his eyes, darkness pressed in around him and he plunged headlong into its dreamy depths. That nightmare was swift in arriving. A winged monster was bearing down on him. Running, he screamed, but no one came to his aid, and there was nowhere to hide.
He ran and he ran and when it felt like his chest might burst from exhaustion, he heard a voice calling his name. Mom! He shot out of the dream, like a shell fired from a cannon.
His mother’s face slowly came into focus. She was ghostly pale, and she was covered with scratches. Her lip was cut, and there was a bruise under one of her eyes. Her hair looked like a bird’s nest. She was wearing a short-sleeved pajama top, and her bare arms were covered with scratches.
“Mom—what happened?”
She began to cry deep sobs of relief. “Oh, Wataru, you’re back. It’s you, it’s you,” she said, rocking him in her arms. She was holding him like a baby. Wataru looked over her shoulder and gasped.
My room…
The bookshelf had fallen over, and the window was cracked. His comforter had been ripped to shreds, and there were tufts of something white floating in the air—the remnants of a feather pillow. The books and papers on his desk had been ripped and torn until they were barely recognizable. He counted at least three dents where someone had kicked or punched the walls.
But who?
Me. I did this.
“Mom? Did I do this?” he asked, dreading the answer.
“You were dreaming, Wataru. You had this horrible dream and you went wild. You didn’t do it on purpose. It’s not your fault,” his mom said, wiping away her tears. She patted him on the head, and gave him a firm hug. But then Wataru realized something else and his body went stiff.
The scratches on her arms. Her face. I did that too.
—Wataru, you’re back.
I’m going crazy.
I’m going crazy, and I hurt my mom.
“I-I’m sorry,” Wataru whispered, and his mom sobbed again, and assured him it wasn’t his fault at all. “We’ve put you through so much—this is my fault, and your father’s too. I’m so sorry. Please forgive us.”
No, Mom. I know something, something you don’t know; something terrible. That’s why I’m going crazy.
“No, it’s not you or Dad,” Wataru said. “My friends—what happened—I got scared, that’s why I…” Wataru spoke in short, clipped half-sentences. Suddenly, he realized his whole body was in pain. Bruises. Scrapes. I did this too.
“Of course you’re scared, after that horrible thing happened to your friends,” his mom said, sniffling. “But it was our responsibility to see you got the support you needed at home, and we could do nothing. We did nothing. I’m so ashamed. I let you down.”
Calming down at last, his mom went and got the first-aid kit, and treated both of their scrapes. Wataru thought she should go to the hospital, but no matter how much he pleaded, she only smiled and said they had enough medicine at home—they’d be fine.
Fine at home, with no doctor to look at her scrapes and bruises. No doctor to ask what happened, to see the truth. I did this to Mom. That’s what she’s afraid of.
Wataru left his room, and lay down on the bed where his father used to sleep.
“At night, I’ve heard you moan in your sleep,” his mom called in to him. “Did you notice?”
“Not at all.”
“You must not be sleeping well at all. You look so pale, Wataru. There, you try to sleep. I’ll be right here.”
He didn’t feel tired in the least, but he pretended to sleep for his mom’s sake.
While he lay on the bed, eyes half closed, his mom made several phone calls. One of them was to school. She was talking to his teacher. Since the incident with Kenji and the others, all the teachers had been stuck at school, summer vacation notwithstanding. He couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying, but he caught the word “counselor.”
She talked to his grandma in Odawara too. Then she cried again. The next call was to Uncle Lou. This time she didn’t cry, she was angry.
Wataru let his mind drift, and watched a dark winged thing slowly glide through the depths of his memory. A strange, pungent odor seemed to waft past his nose.
“If you won’t come, shall I go to her office? Is that what you want?!”
His mother was shouting. She was on the phone again. Who is she talking to? Wataru sat up and listened, but his parents’ room was farther away from the living room than his own, and not as convenient for eavesdropping.
“Come…see…yourself. I don’t…how hard…Wataru.”
From the few snippets he caught of what she was saying, it was clear his mother was furious. About thirty minutes later, the door opened, and his mother walked in. “Did you get some rest?” she asked gently.
“Yeah.”
“I’m glad. Do want to eat anything? I can make you an omelet.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
His mom smiled.
“Your father’s coming this evening. We’ll have a talk, the three of us.”
Surprised, Wataru looked up and immediately saw from her expression that the questions he wanted to ask, questions like “Really?” or “Did Dad offer to come by himself?” or “Was that Dad you were yelling at on the phone?” would be ill-advised. His mom was quiet, but it wasn’t the tranquil quiet of someone calm and composed. She wasn’t at ease, or relaxed. She was wound up tightly in a ball. The brightness of her smile could only be measured on a scale with units that hadn’t been invented yet—that’s how bright it was.
His mom spent the rest of the long afternoon by herself in the kitchen. She was cooking. Wataru stuck his nose in once to find that she was making all of his and Dad’s favorite dishes.
Wataru’s chest hurt. He was short of breath. He had to stop and take deep breaths or he felt like he might collapse. His mom was cutting vegetables, frying things, and grilling chicken until a delicious smell permeated the apartment. Wataru’s feet felt cold. He knew something terrible was going to happen, and worse, he knew that half of him was actually waiting for it. Not that he wanted it to happen, but he was waiting all the same.
His heart pounded.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe nothing bad is going to happen at all.
Dad’s coming home.
But the tiny Wataru, deep inside him, lurking down at the bottom of his heart, was cupping his hands together like a megaphone and shouting: Calling Dad now, like this, is a mistake. Nothing good will come of it. Can’t you see that? Can’t she see that?
No, thought Wataru. No, we can’t.
His mom worked furiously, her back turned to him. Wataru had been so absorbed in himself lately that he hadn’t paid any attention to her. She was so thin. While he was busy going crazy, his mom had been weeping, raging, trembling, screaming, and sinking, and he hadn’t noticed a thing.
The doorbell rang.
Wataru gulped loudly, and reflexively looked at his watch. It was exactly seven o’clock.
His mother turned off the stove and looked at Wataru. “It’s your father. Get the door for him.” Her voice had an unnaturally high pitch.
She’s nervous. Almost as nervous as I am.
Wataru made his legs move mechanically, one in front of the other, to the front door. He grabbed the doorknob and his heart throbbed in his fingertips.
He opened the door to find a woman he’d never seen before standing there.
It’s not Dad.
Maybe she was a salesperson. He breathed a sigh of relief, and then she spoke.
“You’re Wataru, aren’t you? Is your mother home? Tell her it’s Rikako. Rikako Tanaka.”
Her voice was somehow familiar. The phone—I spoke to her on the phone. It was the woman who thought he was his mother, who had kept on talking when he didn’t say anything.
It was her: the other woman.
She stared unblinking at Wataru. She was tall—about three inches taller than Mom, he guessed. She was wearing a light blue suit, and the collar of her blouse shone pure white. She had on a silver necklace. She smelled like perfume. It was the same smell as the women going home from work that occasionally got in the same elevator with him at the department store.
She wasn’t as young as he had imagined. She looked very pretty in her makeup, and she was very well dressed, but he guessed her age wasn’t all that different from Mom.
Wataru stood, stunned. His mother came up behind him.
“What are you doing here?”
Her voice had risen to a higher, wilder pitch than before. Wataru was too scared to turn around.
It’s Mom. How can I be scared of Mom?
“I came in Akira’s place,” said the woman. She was looking over his head, directly at his mom. Even when she stopped talking, her mouth trembled, and while he couldn’t imagine why she would smile, he caught a glimpse of white between her lips.
Like Dracula, he thought, or maybe a saber-toothed tiger. He recalled an artist’s reproduction drawn from fossilized remains that he had seen once. A vicious, long-fanged tiger from the distant past, long since extinct, standing outside their apartment.
“I called my husband,” his mother was saying. “He said he would come. He was worried about his son, and he said he would come. Why isn’t he here?”
Rikako lowered her eyes and looked at Wataru. “I’m sorry,” she said. She still hadn’t blinked once. He saw her teeth. Saber-teeth. “I hear you’re not feeling well. Did you go see a doctor?”
His mom quickly stepped in front of him, putting Wataru behind her back. Wataru swayed, dizzy. He put a hand on the wall to hold himself up.
“Don’t talk to my son. And don’t act like you care. Just whose fault do you think it is that he’s not feeling well?”
Rikako didn’t blink. It was weird. How could someone keep their eyes open for so long?
“Of course I’m responsible—in part. But, Kuniko, I’m not the only one doing this to him. It’s all three of us. And right now, you’re the one pushing him into the middle of this. Not me.”
Wataru saw a shiver run down his mom’s back. The hem of her apron rippled as though blown by a gentle breeze.
“Me—I’m pushing him?”
Rikako Tanaka drew back her jaw, like a thug getting ready for a brawl, and stared his mother down. “Aren’t you? Using him to get to Akira. Don’t you see how cowardly that is?”
“I’m using Wataru?” His mother growled, her voice breaking. He had never heard her talk like this before.
“You use Wataru as a shield, because you know it’s your trump card. Oh, Akira can be as certain as he likes, but how can he win against that? That’s why he said he would come, you know. You used Wataru to force him to. Why, if I hadn’t stepped in…”
His mom reached behind her and, grabbing Wataru by the shoulder, thrust him out in front of her. “Look at him. Look at his face. See the scratches? His arms, his legs—he’s covered with them. He moans in his sleep and thrashes around. And this, he does in his sleep! It’s so sad, so…”
His mother swallowed, just like a child trying to be brave, and reined in the tremble in her voice. “That’s why I called my husband. He said he would see Wataru and talk to him. Make him feel better. Wataru’s our child. When a wife and husband separate they may become strangers, but the bonds of parenthood are different. I can’t help Wataru all by myself. Wataru needs his father.”
Rikako looked over Wataru from head to toe. Then, with a flash of brilliant white teeth, she asked, “Wataru? Did you do that to yourself? Really?”
Wataru couldn’t answer. His tongue was tied with fear—fear of saying the wrong thing, fear at what he had done.
“What do you want from him?” his mother interjected.
“I want you to be quiet. I’m asking Wataru a question,” Rikako replied, never taking her eyes off the boy. “Did you really hurt yourself? Or did someone else hit you? You don’t have to protect anyone, you know. You can tell me the truth.”
“Someone else?” his mother said, stepping forward. “Are you suggesting that I hit my son?”
Rikako said nothing.
“How could you even suggest such a thing?”
Rikako thrust out her chin and looked up. “I’m his mother, I’m his mother, is that all you can say? I’m a mother too, you know.”
She has children? Wataru shrank, looking up from Rikako’s slender legs. I wonder what kind of mother she is.
“I know. A daughter with your first husband, was it?” his mother said breathlessly, her face as white as a sheet of paper. “And you just thrust her upon Akira, didn’t you?”
Rikako sneered. “There was no thrusting upon anyone. Akira was quite happy to become Mayuko’s father. He said he always wanted a daughter.”
“He can hear you!” his mother shouted in outrage, clapping her hands over Wataru’s ears.
“It’s over, Kuniko, you know it as well as I do. No amount of plotting and crying will win Akira’s favor. He sees through all your ploys. So, go ahead, tell your lies. You’re only digging a deeper hole for yourself.”
Rikako continued, relentless, taking a half step closer to Wataru’s mother. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten for one day the lie you told—the lie that destroyed my and Akira’s dream. We were practically engaged when you came butting in and made up that story about being pregnant. We were in love, and your lie tore us apart.”
“Stop it. Stop it!” Wataru’s mother cried, clapping her hands over her own ears this time.
“No,” Rikako said, stepping into the apartment’s hallway, her shoes still on. Pushing Wataru aside she came up so close to his mother that their faces were almost touching. “Akira and I lived separate lives, we had to. But nothing could make us forget each other. When we met again two years ago, when we realized that we were still in love, that our feelings hadn’t changed, we made a decision. We’ll never be able to get back the time you stole from us, but we can live the rest of our lives the way we want. Together.”
Wataru’s mother swayed and fell into a crouch on the floor. Rikako loomed over her, as if picking the spot where she would drive the final stake.
“You can’t fool us anymore. If you are going to abuse Wataru just to get at Akira, then we’ll take him from you, even if we have to go to court.”
Wataru’s mother was moaning, clutching her head in her hands. Wataru stood with his back to the wall, wishing desperately to become a piece of wallpaper, to disappear for all eternity.
He was scared. He had never seen someone hate another person so openly. Animosity seemed to come rolling off Rikako’s body in tidal waves, smashing into his mother, driving her to the floor.
Rikako stepped back into the entrance hall and opened the door. As she made her way to leave, she stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “Oh yes, one more thing,” she said breathlessly, a boxer just out of a close fistfight. “Mayuko isn’t our only child, you know.”
Wataru’s mother hands stopped moving, fingers tangled in her hair. Wataru had no idea what she was talking about, but the woman’s latest revelation seemed to have a profound effect on his mother. “We’re expecting next spring,” Rikako continued, lightly touching her hand to her belly. She exhaled. “Too bad you’ll never see how happy Akira is.” And then she began to walk out through the open door.
That instant something large and black rushed before Wataru’s eyes with all the energy of a tsunami wave. He didn’t realize it was his mother until he saw her collide with Rikako. The two women tumbled into the open-air hallway.
Wataru’s mother swung her fists at Rikako’s face and upper body. The other woman desperately tried to defend herself. Grunting and snarling, their screams echoed down the hall.
Before Wataru could run out, there came a shout of surprise from the neighboring apartment unit and the sound of running feet approaching. He heard voices. “Ma’am, Ma’am, what’s the matter? Please, stop! Oh no, someone call the police!”
Wataru whirled around and fled into his own room. I can’t run away. This is no time to hide. I have to stand up to her, to all of them. I have to be on my mother’s side, I have to protect her… His brain was screaming at him to do something, but his body wouldn’t listen.
Slamming the door behind him, he dove under his bed. But he couldn’t escape the commotion in the hallway. A woman sobbing. The old lady from next door shouting something.
Wataru covered his ears. He began reciting every spell he knew from Saga II—the damaging, offensive spells—one after the other. He knew nothing would happen. He did it so he wouldn’t have to think, wouldn’t have to feel.
“Wataru, you can come out now.” Uncle Lou lay with his body pressed flat against the floor, looking in at him. “It’s all over.”
Wataru was curled in a ball under his bed. He had no idea how much time had passed. It could’ve been an hour. It could’ve been half a day.
His uncle’s eyes looked red and tired, like he’d been crying. Wataru wondered whether Uncle Lou was sad about what had happened, or whether he was sad to see him under the bed.
“Where’s Mom?” Wataru asked in a small voice.
“Asleep. Sedatives. She’s out like a light.”
So she was home. That was good.
“Did the cops come?”
“The cops? Of course not.”
“The lady who lives next door was saying to call the police. I thought I heard sirens…”
Uncle Lou sighed as he lay pressed uncomfortably to the floor. “That was an ambulance. They had to take that Rikako lady to the hospital.”
“Was she hurt?”
“Just some scratches on her face was all I could see. But she made a big deal out of it.”
“Do you know about her?”
“What about her?”
“She’s pregnant.”
Uncle Lou blinked. With one of his eyes pressed to the floor, it came across as a wink. The effect was bizarrely comical.
“When did you get here? Did Mom call you?”
“No. I was supposed to come here today. Your mom knew…she hadn’t told you?”
“Nope.”
“Huh. I came to pick you up. I figured there’s no need to wait for August, you could come to Chiba now. A bit of sea air would do you good. I heard the shouts when I got in the elevator on the ground floor.”
“Umm…what time is it?”
“It’s night already. Past nine thirty.”
Wataru lay under the bed awhile, staring silently at the dust bunnies. How does dust gather in places like this, Wataru wondered. His mom vacuumed every day. Yet it still builds up, when no one’s looking. Even if they don’t see it, it’s there, making the room dirty.
“Are they going to take Mom away?”
“Why would they do that?”
“She hit that lady.”
“I don’t think they’re going to arrest her for that.”
“But what if her baby died? It would be Mom’s fault, wouldn’t it? And there’s no way she would be quiet about it. She’s going to go to the police and tell them to put Mom away, I know it.”
Uncle Lou inched closer. It looked like he was trying to hide under the bed along with Wataru.
“I’m sure the kid’s fine.” His muttered voice didn’t sound terribly confident.
“Mom would never hit me. She’s not abusing me.”
His uncle lifted a curious eyebrow.
“That’s what she said—that lady. She said that I got my scratches from Mom hitting me. She said if my mom was abusing me they’d take me away from her. Please don’t let them do that.”
Uncle Lou rubbed his face with his hands. “She said that? Now I’m starting to wish I took a swing at her too.”
“She said Mom lied, and she wouldn’t be fooled again—but my mom would never do that! She wouldn’t lie to anyone. That woman’s the liar.”
“Wataru…how about coming out from under there now? I don’t like seeing you scrunched up in such a tiny place. Come out, for me? You and I can go to Chiba. We’ll go down to the sea every day. We’ll swim, catch fish, build a campfire, and eat ’em. I’m a terrible surfer, but I’ve got some good friends—we could learn together. And I’ll teach you how to fish like a pro. Once you’re good enough, why, we can travel all over Japan to hit all the great spots. I’ll save up some money and get a cruiser so we can do some trolling. Then, I’ll make you captain. We’ll go wherever we want to go…”
Uncle Lou was talking like a machine gun, tears trickling down his cheeks.
He’s crying. Things must really be bad.
“Yeah,” Wataru said quietly. “Let’s go to Chiba. But let’s take Mom with us. You wouldn’t want to leave her here alone, would you?”
“Of course not,” Uncle Lou said, wiping his nose. “We’ll take your mother. I’ll teach her how to fish too.”
Just as the late-night news programs were beginning, Grandma arrived from Chiba. She was breathing heavily, and hefting two giant supermarket bags.
Wataru had crawled out from under the bed, taken a bath, and was busily packing his clothes. Grandma said she would make dinner and went straight to the kitchen. Moments later she called Wataru, complaining that she had no idea where anything was. He showed her what he could, and she sent him back to his room. As soon as he was gone, she began talking furiously to Uncle Lou, but they were too quiet for him to hear what they were saying. His mom was asleep the whole time, and never came out of her room.
The three of them sat around the table and ate. Grandma always used way too many spices, she had no idea what Wataru liked, and she cooked the rice too long so it was all mushy. It was terrible. Still, Wataru ate quietly, wary of the fearsome glares he got whenever he put down his chopsticks.
“Satoru—about Kuniko. I don’t think it’s a good idea to take her to Chiba,” Grandma said just as they were finishing up. “Oh, you should come, Wataru, it’d be good for you. But your mother still has lots of things she needs to do here. Isn’t that right? We just can’t take her.”
Wataru looked at Grandma and found himself speechless.
Grandma, the tank.
“But Ma, I don’t feel right leaving her here by herself,” Uncle Lou protested.
“She could go to Odawara,” Grandma snapped.
“But we can’t separate her and Wataru, not with things the way they are.”
“Oh? I think this will be good for the boy. That Kuniko is running him ragged.”
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.