The Complete Ring Trilogy: Ring, Spiral, Loop. Koji Suzuki
still living here on the island, hears a rumor that Shizuko has become famous doing something or other.”
“Was she involved in some sort of incident?”
“It’s unclear. The cousin just says that he started hearing things about Shizuko, through the grapevine. But when I gave him my card, he saw I work for a newspaper and said, ‘If you’re a reporter you probably know more about it than me.’ From the way he was talking it sounds like from about 1950 to 1955 Shizuko and Sadako were involved in something that caused a stir in the media. But news from the mainland was hard to come by on the island …”
“And so you’d like me to check and see what it was that got them in the news?”
“You read my mind.”
“Idiot. It was obvious.”
“There’s more. In ’56, Shizuko comes back to the island, dragging Sadako with her. The mother’s so worn down that she looks like a different person, and she won’t answer any of her cousin’s questions. She just closes up, mumbling incoherently. And then one day she throws herself into Mt Mihara, the volcano, and kills herself. She was thirty-one.”
“So I’m also finding out why Shizuko committed suicide.”
“If you would.” Still holding the receiver, Asakawa bowed. If he ended up stranded on this island, then Yoshino would be his only hope. Asakawa regretted that both he and Ryuji had so blithely come here. Ryuji could have easily investigated a little hamlet like Sashikiji all by himself. It would have been more efficient for Asakawa to stay in Tokyo and wait for Ryuji to contact him, and then team up with Yoshino to check things out on that end.
“Alright, I’ll do what I can. But I think I’m a little understaffed here.”
“I’ll call Oguri and ask him to send some people your way.”
“That’d be great.”
It was one thing to say it, of course, but Asakawa didn’t have much confidence in the idea. His editor was always complaining about being short-handed. Asakawa seriously doubted he’d spare valuable manpower for something like this.
“So, her mother kills herself, and Sadako stays on in Sashikiji, taken care of by her mother’s cousin. That cousin has turned his house into a bed-and-breakfast now.” He was about to say that he and Ryuji were now staying in that very house, but decided it was an unnecessary detail.
“The following year, Sadako, who’s a fourth-grader now, makes a name for herself at school by predicting the eruption of Mt Mihara. Did you get that? Mt Mihara erupted in 1957, on the very day and time Sadako had predicted.”
“Now that’s impressive. If we had a woman like that we wouldn’t need the Coordinating Committee for Earthquake Prediction.”
As a result of her prediction’s coming true, her fame had spread throughout the island, and was picked up by Professor Miura’s network. But Asakawa figured he didn’t need to explain all that. What was important now was …
“After that, islanders kept coming to Sadako asking her to predict their futures. But she turned down every single request. She just kept saying she didn’t have that kind of power.”
“Out of modesty?”
“Who knows? Then, when she finishes high school, she takes off for Tokyo like she just couldn’t wait to get away. The relatives who’d been taking care of her got exactly one postcard from her. It said she’d passed the test and had been accepted into Theater Group Soaring. They haven’t heard from her again to this day. There’s not a soul on the island who knows where she is or what she’s up to.”
“In other words, the only clue we have, the only trace she left, is this Theater Group Soaring.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Okay, let me make sure I have this straight. What I’m supposed to find out is: what Shizuko Yamamura was in the news for, why she jumped into a volcano, and where her daughter went and what she did after joining a theater troupe at age eighteen. In other words, all about the mother and all about the daughter. Just those two things.”
“Right.”
“Which first?”
“Huh?”
“I’m asking you whether you want me to start with the mother or the daughter. You don’t have much time left, you know.”
The most pressing issue, clearly, was what had become of Sadako.
“Could you start with the daughter?”
“Gotcha. I guess first thing tomorrow I’ll pop in to the office of Theater Group Soaring.”
Asakawa looked at his watch. It was only a little past six in the evening. Still plenty of time before a rehearsal space would be closing.
“Hey, Yoshino. Not tomorrow. Say you’ll do it tonight.”
Yoshino heaved a sigh and shook his head slightly. “Now look, Asakawa. I have my own work to do, you know—did you ever think of that? I’ve got a mountain of things I’ve got to write up before morning. Even tomorrow’s a little …” Yoshino trailed off. If he said any more it would look like he was trying to make Asakawa feel too much in his debt. He always took the greatest care to appear manly in situations like this.
“Please, I’m begging you. I mean, my deadline is the day after tomorrow.” He knew how things worked in their business, and he was afraid to put it any more strongly. All he could do was to wait quietly for Yoshino’s decision.
“But … Ah, what the hell. I’ll try to get to it tonight. I’m not making any promises, mind you.”
“Thanks. I owe you.” Asakawa bowed and started to hang up.
“Hey, hang on a second. There’s something important I haven’t asked you yet.”
“What’s that?”
“What possible relationship could there be between what you saw on that video and this Sadako Yamamura?”
Asakawa paused. “You wouldn’t believe it even if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“No video camera recorded those images.” Asakawa paused for a good long moment to allow his meaning to sink into Yoshino’s brain. “Those images are things that Sadako saw with her eyes and things she imagined in her head, fragments presented one after another with nothing to contextualize them.”
“Huh?” Yoshino was momentarily at a loss for words.
“See. I told you you wouldn’t believe it.”
“You mean they’re like psychic photos?”
“The phrase doesn’t even begin to cover it. She actually caused these images to appear on a TV tube. She’s projecting moving images onto a TV.”
“So, what, she’s a production agency?” Yoshino laughed at his own joke. Asakawa didn’t get angry. He understood why Yoshino had to joke. He listened silently to his friend’s carefree laughter.
9:40 p.m. As he climbed the stairs out of Yotsuya Sanchome Station on the Marunouchi subway line, a gust of wind threatened to blow Yoshino’s hat off, and he had to hold it down onto his head with both hands. He looked around him for the fire station he was supposed to use as a landmark. It was right there on the corner. A minute’s walk down the street took him to his destination.
A sign stood on the sidewalk, reading Theater Group Soaring; next to it a flight of stairs led down to a basement, from the depths of which came the voices of young men and women, raised in mingled singing and recitation. They probably had a performance coming up and were planning to rehearse until the trains stopped running. He didn’t have to be an arts reporter to figure that out. But he spent most of his time chasing after crime stories. He had to admit it felt a little weird visiting the