Japanese Tales of Mystery & Imagination (24 page)

"As I ran after him down the stone stairway of the tower, I called out to him, asking what had happened.

"'The girl! The girl!' he cried. 'I've found her!'

"After reaching the ground, he seized my hand again and began to drag me with him as he made for the compound of the temple.

"'My search is over,' he gasped as he ran. 'I just saw her. . .sitting in a large room floored with straw mats. I know I can locate her now. I must! I must!'

"Going into greater detail as we hurried along, my brother explained that he was now seeking a landmark in the form of a tall pine tree, which he had seen through the binoculars, located somewhere at the rear of the Kwannon Temple. 'And near it,' he stammered excitedly, 'there is a house. She's there. . . there. . .!'

"We soon located the pine tree in question, but great was my brother's disappointment at finding not even the remotest trace of a house in the vicinity. Although I was persuaded that my brother was suffering from some optical illusion, I nevertheless began to search for signs of the girl in the neighboring teahouses, for I truly and sincerely felt sorry for my lovesick brother.

"While carrying out my search, I must have drifted away from my brother, for when I turned a moment later he was nowhere in sight. Hurrying back toward the pine tree, I chanced to pass a row of stalls, among which was a roofless peep-show booth. And then, suddenly, I stopped running, for I found my brother peering intently into one of the peepholes.

"'What are you looking at?' I asked abruptly, tapping him on the shoulder.

"I will never forget the strange expression he wore when he turned around. His eyes were glassy and appeared to be gazing at some far-off scene. His voice sounded decidedly unreal.

"'Brother,' he sighed, 'the girl. . .is inside.'

"Immediately grasping the significance of his statement, I peered into the peephole he had indicated.

"As soon as I pressed my eyes against the hole, an attractive face fairly leaped into view. Instantly I recognized the features as belonging to Yaoya-Oshichi, a well-known heroine immortalized on the classical Kabuki stage in a tragic love drama.

"Gradually, as my eyes came into focus, I was able to observe the whole setting of the peep show. The picture, for such it was, depicted the attractive girl Oshichi leaning amorously against the lap of her lover Kichiza in a guest room of the Kichijo Temple. Studying the pair more closely, I discovered that they were nothing more than the two main characters of a pasted rag picture. But the sheer artistry of the workmanship amazed me.

"Oshichi especially was a masterpiece, so true to life in every minute detail. I wasn't surprised, therefore, to hear my brother remark behind me: 'I know the girl is only a rag-picture doll, pasted on one of many tablets, but I simply cannot afford to give her up! Oh, if only I could be like her lover Kichiza in the picture, and talk to her!'

"As though petrified, my brother stood there, lost to the world. I soon realized that he must have seen the picture in the peep show from the top of the Junikai, through the open top of the booth.

"It was getting quite dark by this time, and already the crowds were thinning out. In front of the peep show there were now only a couple of children, who seemed reluctant to leave. But, eventually, they too left the place.

"It had been cloudy ever since noon that day, and now the skies were threatening rain. Somewhere in the distance I heard the faint rumbling sound of thunder, and streaks of lightning flashed across the leaden skies. But my brother continued to stand immobile, staring—staring far, far away.

"Soon the darkness descended like a black veil. Close by, I caught the bright gas-lit illumination of a signboard advertising the dancing-on-a-ball show.

"Suddenly, my brother came to himself and clutched my arm.

"'I've an idea,' he exclaimed. 'Here, hold these binoculars the wrong way and keep gazing at me with the larger lenses pressed close to your eyes!'

"This was a queer request, to say the least.

"'But why?' I remonstrated.

"'Never mind why! Just do as I ask!' he shot back.

"Reluctantly I picked up the binoculars, for it was a distasteful task to me. Ever since I could remember, I had felt a revulsion for all optical instruments. Somehow they seemed wicked to me—binoculars which could make objects seem either small and distant or else uncannily close, or a microscope which could magnify a small worm into the dimensions of a monster. But, having no other choice, I carried out mv brother's wish, though with serious misgivings.

"As soon as I looked at my brother through the wrong end of the binoculars, I found him reduced in size to a mere two feet, and seemingly standing about six meters away. And then, gradually, as I continued to gaze, I saw him become smaller and smaller. Soon he was only about a foot in height. But I was undisturbed, for I thought that he was merely moving further away from me—walking backwards.

"Suddenly, however, I started violently, for his small figure began to float up in the air. And then—presto!—he vanished into the darkness.

"You can well imagine how scared I was. Lowering the binoculars, I began to run around in circles, screaming: 'Brother! Brother! Where are you? Where are you?' But all my efforts to find him proved fruitless.

"And this is the way, my friend, that my brother made his completely unexpected and weird exit from this earth.

"Ever since that time I have regarded binoculars as instruments of terror. I am especially afraid of this particular pair. Although it may sound superstitious, I have always had the feeling that swift misfortune will overtake any man who looks through these lenses from the wrong end. Maybe you can now understand why I stopped you so violently when you held them the wrong way a few moments ago.

"To return to my story—I soon tired of my search and returned to the peep show. Suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, I was struck by a queer thought.

"'Could it be possible,' I asked myself with a shudder, 'that my brother purposely reduced himself in size by dint of the black magic of the wicked binoculars and went to join the girl of his undying affection in the pasted rag picture?'

"Jolted by this thought, I quickly aroused the owner of the booth and asked him to let me have another look at the picture slide of the Kichijo Temple. Sure enough, as soon as I saw the pasted rag picture by the light of an oil lamp, I found that the worst had come to pass. For there, in that fantastic setting, sat my brother instead of the character Kichiza, passionately hugging the gorgeous Oshichi.

"Strange to say, I did not feel any sadness or remorse. On the contrary, I was extremely happy to know that my brother had finally attained his long-cherished desire.

"After succeeding in negotiating with the peep-show owner for the sale of the picture to me—for some queer reason, he never noticed that my brother, clad in his Western suit, had usurped the role of Kichiza—I hurried home and told the whole story to my family. But of course no one believed me—not even my mother. They all thought that I had gone stark raving mad."

Concluding his story, the old man began to chuckle to himself. And for some unexplainable reason, I too found myself smiling.

"I could never convince them," he suddenly continued, "of the possibility of a man's turning into a rag-picture doll. But the very fact that my brother had completely vanished from the face of the earth proves that such
is
possible.

"My father, for example, still believes that my brother ran away from home. As for my mother, I finally succeeded in borrowing enough money from her to buy the tablet bearing the precious rag picture. Shortly after I journeyed to Hakone and Kamakura, carrying the picture with me, for I would not deny my beloved brother a honeymoon.

"Now you can well understand why I always prop the picture up against the window whenever I ride on a train, for it is always my desire to let him and his lover enjoy the passing scenery.

"Before long, my father liquidated his business in Tokyo and moved to his native city of Toyama. I too have lived there for the past thirty years. And then, a few days ago, I decided to let my brother enjoy the sights of the new Tokyo, and that is the reason why I am making this trip.

"Sad to say, however, there is just one setback to my brothers happiness, for while the girl always remains young and fresh—for she is actually nothing but a doll despite her life-like features—my brother grows older and haggard with the passing of each year, for he is human, of flesh and blood, just as you and I. Where once he was a handsome and dashing young man of twenty-five, he has now been reduced to a white-haired old man, feeble of limb and ugly with wrinkles.

"Ah! What a sad situation! And what irony!"

Sighing deeply, the old man straightened, as if he had suddenly awakened from a trance.

"Well, I've told a long story," he remarked. "And I assure you that every word I've spoken is true. You do believe me, don't you?"

"Of course, of course!" I reassured him.

"I am truly happy to know," he replied, "that my narrative has not been wasted."

He then turned to the rag picture, and began to speak in a soft voice, like the cooing of a dove:

"You must both be tired, my dear brother and sister-in-law. And you must also be feeling embarrassed, for I told the story in your presence. But cheer up, I'll put you to bed now."

With these words, he again wrapped the picture painstakingly in the cloth wrapper.

As he did this, I caught a fleeting glimpse of the faces of the two figures, and I could have sworn that they had thrown me a smile of friendly greeting. As for the old man, he had lapsed into silence.

On and on sped the train. About ten minutes later the tempo of the rumbling wheels grew slower, while a few scattered lights could now be seen glimmering outside the windows.

Shortly after, the train came to a halt at a small and obscure station high in the mountains. Looking out, I saw only one station clerk standing on the platform.

The old man got to his feet.

"I must now bid you farewell," he muttered. "This is where I must get off, for I am staying with relatives in this village tonight."

With these words, the old man hobbled down the aisle and stepped off the carriage, the mysterious parcel clutched tightly under his arm.

Gazing out the window, I caught a final glimpse of him handing his ticket to the clerk at the wicket, and a moment later he was swallowed into the night.

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