Loss 3: Let He Who Is Without Loss Cast the First Stone

Loss 3: Let He Who Is Without Loss Cast the First Stone

Loss 3:

Let He Who Is Without Loss Cast the First Stone

T HE SUN SOARED HIGH THAT LATE MORNING. I cracked open a can of coffee and glanced sideways at the sign above me. “Roadside Station—Mokkulu Shinshiro.” We were almost an hour north of Toyohashi by car.

“What am I doing here?” I mumbled.

I hadn’t had much of a choice. The moment I saw that minivan with the rookie driver sticker on it and Tsukinoki-senpai popping her head out of the driver’s seat, I knew. This was my life now. Komari and Yanami were already inside too, so there was really no way out. Still, had I known I would be whisked away all the way to the neighboring city with nothing but the clothes on my back, I might have put up a bit more of a fight.

Shinshiro was a city situated at the rocky mouth of Oku Mikawa, the northeastern tip of what was once the Mikawa Province where the Battle of Nagashino was fought, like, forever ago. I didn’t know much else about the area. Point being: We were in the middle of nowhere with mostly mountains for company.

If Tsukinoki-senpai was to be believed, and Yakishio was staying with her grandmother in the city, then we still had a long journey ahead of us. Hence the quick rest stop. Though “quick” was just wishful thinking.

I sipped on my coffee, waiting and wondering when Senpai would get us back on the road. “Oh, right. She sent me her draft.”

She’d give me crap if I didn’t get that over with. I found the message and clicked the file.

Literature Club Summer Activity Report: Tsukinoki Koto—The Writing Beauties in the Wood

Sunlight trickled through overhead branches. The man walked wearily, his kimono a burden with its flowing fabric.

“How much further, shrimp?”

Before the man flitted and flew what appeared to be a minuscule person about the size of a mere starling. Insect-like wings protruded from the creature’s back.

The little creature answered without words, sweeping upward in a dramatic arc. The man strained his eyes. Not far up the path was a quaint yet cozy-looking building of an almost European aspect.

“How extravagant.” The man tossed the creature a coin, pleased with his own snide comment.

His guide vanished along with the coin into thin air.

Dazai was at first apathetic when Mishima had initially informed him of Kawabata’s presence in their new world. Upon hearing the old author had been appointed shepherd for their fellow reborn, however, apathy became obsession. Two days by carriage it had taken him to reach the ivy-strangled, two-story little hovel in which Kawabata toiled away most of his days. Dazai thought it unbecoming of their station.

No maid took notice of his arrival, however long he waited, so he tried the bell. Dazai knew his lines and exactly what he would say—preparation rendered useless when he was the one who answered.

“Ah,” Kawabata spoke first. He cast a cold gaze upon Dazai. “Come in. I’ll put on some tea.”

Inside was barren of the comforts of their previous world. Unsettlingly small for how large the exterior appeared, the room could only be eight tatamis at most. For furniture, there was little more than a table and chairs that Dazai now sat at.

Kawabata’s attire, though originating locally, had the quality of a Christian priest. He prepared tea in front of a small stove, his back to Dazai.

“Have you no maids?” the latter commented.

“I find their services redundant in these parts,” Kawabata replied. “Nothing a little fae help can’t manage.”

Dazai considered the room. One corner pronounced itself among the rest. There were flasks and beakers and a workstation not unlike what a chemist might have.

“Ever heard of nilkeene grasses?”

“I haven’t,” Dazai said to his host’s back. “Good for dementia, I hope.”

Kawabata poured steaming water into a teapot without so much as a chuckle. “Through careful extraction, I’ve found they can be made into a most handy solution. Odorless and tasteless, but the tiniest bit before bed and you’ll never have a sleepless night again.”

“A sedative.”

“Really, you’ll be out like a light.” Kawabata set the table with cups, still disregarding Dazai’s comments. “One could do whatever they liked to you in the meantime. And you’d be none the wiser.”

“You dabble in questionable fields. Pardon the irony, but I’m beginning to doubt the safety of drinking such a thing.”

“Ah, but is insomnia itself not a plague we writers are far too familiar with? It’s even more potent than Calmotin, you know.” Tea cascaded beautifully into one cup. The golden liquid proffered steam which rose and clutched at the air enticingly. “These leaves were gathered in the Solidea Highlands. Comparable to Ceylon in taste.”

Kawabata slid the near-brimming cup over to Dazai. Dazai did not immediately reach for it.

Just then, the door swung open. Three young girls flew in, chattering and giggling like little birds.

“Teacher, won’t you play with us?”

“Look! It’s a stranger!”

“Who is that?”

Each girl’s hair was some otherworldly shade of green or blue. These children were certainly not human.

“Now, now,” said Kawabata. “I have a guest. Off you go.”

The girls made their displeasure known, though departed nonetheless as noisily as they had come in.

Dazai regarded the door with fatigue as it slammed shut. “And who were they? They didn’t look like any elf I’ve ever seen.”

“Shrewd eye,” Kawabata mused.

“Graceless things. A single waitress carries more refinement than the three of them together.”

“And yet they all sleep with closed eyes.” Kawabata directed his squarely at Dazai. “But where were we? Ah, yes. Tea. Please, drink while it’s hot.”

“Of course.” Dazai reached for the cup. “But first,” he stopped, “a question for you. You know where Akutagawa-sensei is. Tell me. Please.”

Kawabata stared. Dazai lost the silent battle and averted his gaze.

“I found myself in the possession of some sort of ‘skill’ when I first arrived in this strange place,” Kawabata digressed. The steam became less enticing, less defined. “‘Words of Power,’ it was called. Any who assents to what I say, regardless of what that is—regardless of what is in that tea—must ultimately carry out that which they agreed to do.”

Only then did Dazai notice his hand moving on its own. “Kawabata-san. What is this?”

“I said to drink. You said ‘of course.’ My words have power, my friend.”

It wasn’t just his hand. Dazai’s entire body defied him. Every muscle acted to one singular goal: drink the tea.

And he did. The steaming liquid filled his mouth, poured down his throat, and seeped into his stomach. Even as it scalded his flesh the whole way down, Dazai could not stop.

He hurled the empty cup onto the ground. The drug was exceptionally fast-acting.

“Perhaps I should have let it cool more,” Kawabata cooed. “Though it really is best when it goes down hot.”

“What is the meaning of this? What are you going to do to me?”

“You will not see Akutagawa-kun. Not you. Not anyone.” He drank his own tea. Cold, calculating eyes pointed themselves at one side of the room. “You’re too stubborn for your own good, so I’m simply going to dissuade you physically .”

Gritting his teeth against the searing pain in his esophagus, Dazai followed Kawabata’s gaze. Among the aged walls, scars of time worn like badges of honor, was one less ancient. As if it and its accompanying door had been built just recently.

At last, Dazai placed the unease he had felt upon entering this place.

The room was too small for its exterior. The rest, Dazai surmised, laid beyond that new wall.

“The nilkeene should be taking effect any second now.”

“You drank some yourself. I saw you,” Dazai rumbled.

“A house secret. We wouldn’t want to waste perfectly good tea now, would we?”

Sarcastic conceit smeared itself across Dazai’s expression. “And here I was almost worried about you.”

“Why is that, Dazai-kun?”

“You see, I switched our cups while you were distracted with those girls. And you didn’t even notice.”

Kawabata flung the liquid from his cup, eyes widened in shock.

Dazai scoffed. “Believed me, did you? Cute.” He stumbled to his feet, the lethargy passing.

“What’s happening? Did you swap our cups or not?” Kawabata demanded.

“My skill is ‘Liar,’ Sensei. Anyone who believes my lies makes them true.” Dazai found the vitriol emanating off of Kawabata’s person almost endearing. “I never switched the cups. You never swallowed any nilkeene, but you did swallow my deceit.”

The villain fell to his knees. Dazai knelt down, tearing the string from the breast of Kawabata’s shirt.

“I suppose you’ll have your revenge now, won’t you?” the disheveled man snarled.

“I’ve long given up the past, old dog. What we have in bad blood there is good in equal measure.”

Dazai hoisted up the feeble-framed man and carried him to the out-of-place door. Inside was a simple room. At its center, shadowed in the dim light, a single large bed. Something sweet lingered in the air.

“We’ve plenty of time to make up for both. Now you will tell me where Akutagawa-sensei is, or we’re going to find out together how you sing.”

***

I didn’t want to meet the families that considered that family friendly.

After I was done watching clouds pass in a cloudless sky—and contemplating modern day censorship rules—I wandered into the rest stop. Yanami was standing at the nearby snack corner with her arms crossed all serious.

“What’re you up to?” I called out to her.

“Hey. Perfect timing.” She had her eyes fixed on some goheimochi.

Goheimochi was a rest station staple here in central Japan—rice mushed together into mochi, molded into an oblong rectangle, skewered, drenched in a miso sauce, and then grilled right on the stick.

“Hungry?”

Yanami replied, “I had a thought about carbs.”

“Just one, huh?”

“Just one. So, like, ten thousand years ago, humans stopped being hunter-gatherers, right? They started farming. That is to say, they switched to a life of carbs.”

“Deep. There more to that?”

She nodded like this was world-shattering business. “Ever since, it’s been a staple of our diet. Our histories have been intertwined, one synonymous with the other. Think about it. Are we truly the masters? Or are we merely living in the carbohydrate’s world?”

“Just say you want the goheimochi.”

She shook her head. “It’s not about the mochi. It’s about reevaluating relationships. Carb-related relationships.”

I didn’t follow, but I kinda didn’t need to, honestly.

“This is totally about how you ate all that somen and—”

“ Didn’t gain weight,” Yanami snapped. “I’ve been hot every day of every year since I was born.”

“Not to rain on your parade, but I saw on TV the other day that scientists are saying our daily carb consumption probably didn’t actually go up all that much after switching to farming.”

“Wait, no kidding?”

“I mean, it’s in the name. They hunted and gathered. We didn’t go chasing deer for every meal. We ate nuts and plants and stuff like that.”

Yanami crossed her arms again. “What you’re telling me is I should go for the goheimochi.”

What I was telling her was she wasn’t fooling anyone. I went for my wallet.

“Hold it,” she said. “Are you seriously about to eat that in front of me when I’m specifically trying to not think about it?”

“Sounds like a you problem. I haven’t had one of these in forever.”

“What if…” She squinted at me out of the corner of her eye. “Just one bite?”

“Too mushy to share. We’d make a mess.”

“Are you implying I’m a mess?”

“A hot one, hopefully. I hear hypothermia’s bad for you.”

And just like that, I wasn’t hungry anymore.

I left Yanami to her starchy considerations. We’d been here long enough, so I went looking for Tsukinoki-senpai. We were supposed to be on our way to talk to Yakishio.

I found her and Komari chattering over at the gift shop.

“I still think ume jam belongs on the left.” Senpai clunked the jar on the shelf.

“N-no way. Right.” Komari clunked it on the other side of a box of venison curry.

Tsukinoki-senpai held her fist up to her mouth and frowned. “I just can’t see it. Curry’s got the oomf factor, I’ll give you that, but left still doesn’t click for me. I don’t buy that the jam has the ‘troubled upbringing’ vibes I need from the right.”

“Th-that’s why it’s perfect there. New wave.”

What in God’s name had I walked in on?

Tsukinoki-senpai noticed me before I could make up my mind about getting involved. “Allow me to explain, Nukumizu-kun.”

“Please don’t.”

“Listen anyway. You see, the common fujoshi has long been discriminated against, and it’s only gotten more and more out of hand. There are those who claim we would ship a pencil and an eraser given the opportunity.” She put her face in her hand in a dramatic gesture of indignation. “The audacity. Can you believe such slander?”

“Is that not what I was just witnessing?”

“What you were just witnessing was a thought experiment.” A degenerate one, by my approximation. “What you need to understand is that, when a new anime comes out, being on top of the shipping is a matter of life or death to us. We need to constantly be in peak condition, our synapses ready to fire. Consider the way athletes need to work out. That is what this is to us proud members of the literature club.”