Asi Hell

Capítulo 53

The girl seemed a little agitated.

"If you're here to ask about Kanako, I know nothing. I've already told the police everything, there's nothing more to say."

"It has nothing to do with this matter, it's all over now anyway. I came here today specifically to see your mother. Is your mother doing something strange? Wasn't it your mother who nailed the front door shut with wooden boards? Has she gone mad? She's not normal at all. She's such a weirdo."

Hearing Natsumi's unwavering denial, the girl quickly regained her composure. However, I truly couldn't understand how Natsumi could be so tactless as to speak ill of her mother in front of a child. Yet, the girl didn't seem disgusted by these criticisms; she showed neither anger nor pleasure.

"I don't understand my mom's thinking either—excuse me, I have an appointment, can I leave first?"

The girl's attitude was surprisingly cold, but she seemed to frown when her mother was mentioned.

"Of course! But—um—right."

"What's up?"

"No, it's okay. Goodbye."

"I'm leaving now."

Picking up her student bag from the side, Nanamoto Yoriko jogged away in the direction we came from. Natsuki Tsu tilted her head, watching her leave. It seemed I had played the role of the idiot the whole time.

"Is that a pimple? Or a bruise? But it's amazing that she could find it in a place like that."

Xia Mujin started spouting nonsensical things again.

"That angle is so weird—but then again, it seems that girl took the day off to meet someone."

"Oh right! Today is Thursday, we have to go to class."

I didn't notice at all. It's not even noon yet, so the students should be in class.

"That man from earlier—does he live around here?"

"That guy just now...you mean Kubo?"

"The name doesn't matter. Do the girl know him?"

"That can't be right. I don't know where Kubo lives, but it can't be that much of a coincidence."

"Yeah--"

Xia Mujin seemed quite dismissive. The basis he relied on was certainly beyond the comprehension of ordinary people, so there was no point in arguing with him.

The door opened unexpectedly, and I was so startled that my legs went weak and I almost fell over.

"Ah! It really is home! Xiao Guan, aren't you happy? We can finally get away from those four empty words, 'a wasted trip'!"

A woman emerged from the room.

The room was dark, with no electric lights.

She had initially assumed the room would be a complete mess, but the reality was quite different. The house didn't even possess anything worthy of being called a mess. Given her extreme poverty, it's easy to understand why she would so readily allow a suspicious duo, whom she had just met and whose identities she didn't know, to enter without any suspicion. It seemed that any sense of wariness had long since vanished from her life—no, from her very heart.

It took my eyes a while to adjust to the darkness in the room.

There wasn't even a cushion in the room. In the corner sat what looked like a rice sack, with several doll heads stuck in it. Light seeped in through the gaps in the curtains covering the window, casting soft shadows on the doll heads. Only one head, whose eyes and nose hadn't yet been carved, was illuminated by bright light. Paintbrushes, carving knives, and other tools were carelessly discarded around the rice sack. It seemed like no work had been done for some time.

For some reason, a millstone sat in the very center of the room. Fine powder was sprinkled on the tatami mats, and the millstone lay amidst the powder. They must have just been doing some kind of work.

It's impossible to cook in a place like this, so they were most likely grinding white pigment, essential for making dolls. However, there was no boiling water nearby to dissolve the powder. So this bowl must be a remnant of life from a few days ago.

Natsume remained silent.

Junzhi remained silent.

She simply opened the door and complied with our request to let us in.

Junzhi was much younger than I had imagined. She wore no makeup at all, and her clothes were far beyond simple. Normally, this kind of attire would make someone look ten years older, but Junzhi still appeared very young. Even by strict standards, she was still close to her actual age. Perhaps she was just naturally young-looking. Her eyes and nose were well-defined; she was undeniably beautiful.

I sat down on a spot next to the mortar where no powder had settled. Natsume stood.

"Why—why did you take your daughter…"

"Lai Zi is not here. If you are looking for Lai Zi, please leave."

"No, no. We just ran into your daughter. I wanted to ask why you locked Lai Zi out? You should have been inside the whole time, right?"

There was no response. Whether to describe her as haggard or exhausted, Junzhi seemed distracted.

But it is definitely not sadness or pain.

Junzhi looked unwell, which I think was probably not due to unfortunate circumstances, but rather to an irregular lifestyle or malnutrition. Her unfocused eyes were likely for the same reason.

Junzhi listlessly fiddled with the grinding stick on the tatami mat, her eyes vacant and lifeless.

"You were just thinking about committing suicide, weren't you?"

Xia Mujin asked abruptly.

Turning around, I saw a rope tied to the beam, with a wooden box underneath. Typical preparations for hanging.

"Madam, please don't do anything rash!"

"oh."

I couldn't see any profound expression on her face when she looked up; it was filled only with fatigue and exhaustion. I couldn't sense even a trace of the sorrow of someone who had just been contemplating ending her own life.

"Originally, I planned to... after my daughter left... but... since you've come, so—"

What's going on? What's with this dull, sluggish response, like cutting something with the back of a cleaver? Wasn't this woman planning to commit suicide? Is suicide such an insignificant act?

"So, you're planning to die after we leave?!"

"This—I don't know either—"

She wasn't joking, and of course, she wasn't mentally unstable.

She's already at her limit. It's just that I can't understand it.

At that moment, I acutely realized that true communication between people is impossible. Words cannot connect us, and the exchange of feelings is even more impossible.

There is a vast gap between what is reality to me and what is reality to her. There are as many realities as there are conscious awareness. A hundred people will have a hundred different realities, a thousand people will have a thousand different realities, and these realities are not just slightly different, but completely different. Communication cannot exist without forcing oneself to believe that these realities are the same. As long as one can force oneself to believe, there is no problem; but if even the slightest doubt arises, this mutual trust will immediately crumble.

Denying everything outside oneself isolates one from the self; and if one denies oneself—I know the consequences better than anyone. Therefore,

Whether it's Kubo, Yoriko, or Kimie, their words sound like foreign languages to me, completely incomprehensible and impossible to communicate with; even though I can't communicate with them, I force myself to pretend that I can understand them completely.

Does Natsukizu think so too?

An event is a story that arises from the interrelationships between people—in many realities.

Therefore, the story's outline—the truth of the event—is also likely to have as many versions as there are people involved. To say there's only one truth is nothing but deception. The truth of the event is merely a deception created by the people involved for convenience.

In this way, perhaps, as Kyogoku-do said, the motivation was simply to create a convention for the sake of convenience.

If that's the case, what's the point of uncovering the truth behind the crime? Preventing it from happening in the first place might be somewhat helpful, but interfering with events that have already occurred is a huge waste of time.

So, isn't the so-called detective just a clown who transforms events—other people's stories—into the detective's own story? The evidence is that in the detective stories circulating in the public, everyone who gets involved with the detective dies one after another in the end; otherwise, their stories would not stand.

Crime is the ultimate two-person drama that can be concluded as long as there is a perpetrator and a victim. Detectives are like clowns who shamelessly pop up in the middle of the drama and arbitrarily change the plot. Those low-class guys who always love to step forward and willingly play such foolish roles are the so-called detectives.

No wonder he said he was wary of such roles. I think I can understand now a little better why Kyogoku-do chose to live in seclusion.

"Hey! Xiao Guan! How can you be so rude? This lady even postponed her suicide attempt to see us, why are you keeping quiet? If you have any questions, just ask them."

"ah."

Xia Mujin's rebuke interrupted my thoughts.

He seemed completely unaffected by this situation.

They even went so far as to check whether the rope used for hanging was strong enough.

Despite being urged, I couldn't think of anything worth asking. After all, I hadn't come specifically for this purpose. Besides, my words would likely not reach the lady's ears, and I couldn't understand her answers either. While I remained silent, Xia Mujin began to speak loudly again:

“Madam! This beam is no good; it's not strong enough to support your weight. Look, it bends like this with just a gentle pull.”

Junzhi looked at Xia Mujin with a puzzled expression. The beams were indeed creaking and bending.

But to me, it just looked like Natsume was using all her strength to pull the rope down. I couldn't believe Kimie was that heavy.

"Either you give up on suicide, or you change your approach; otherwise, this house will collapse first. If the house collapses, then there's no point in you committing suicide, right?"

"Hmm—that is indeed a headache."

troublesome

What does this mean?

Why can't I always keep up with other people's conversations? It seems Natsuki has already reached the same level as Kimie. So, my recent thoughts were ultimately just my own wishful thinking. The world outside of me already shares the same story.

Although I couldn't see any significance in Natsuki's response, the answer that it prompted from Kimie was very meaningful. Although her words were only fragments, when put together, they made one somewhat understand Kimie's way of thinking, which was difficult for her to comprehend. Listening to her describe her intricate life was like viewing an illusion painting (note).

Note: An art form can have many types. For example, a typical one is to use perspective to create the illusion of space.

Kimie's father was a junior apprentice of a renowned doll maker with a long and distinguished lineage dating back to the Edo period. Even I, who am not familiar with the doll industry, had heard of the illustrious reputation of his master and fellow apprentices. Kimie's father was exceptionally skilled, particularly adept at making dolls of the Taihe, Shinten, and Kintoki (Note 1) types, and established his own business at a young age.

Note 1: "Taihe" is an honorific title for the Grand Minister of State, referring to Toyotomi Hideyoshi. "Shinten" refers to Emperor Jimmu, the first emperor in Japanese mythology. "Kintoki" refers to Kintoki, one of the Four Heavenly Kings under Minamoto no Yorimitsu, a famous demon-slaying general in fairy tales, also known as Kintoki.

But he remained poor and addicted to gambling. The production of dolls has its peak and off-peak seasons; Kimie's father was particularly skilled at making dolls for May (Note 2), so his income was always concentrated in the spring. However, concentration didn't mean an unlimited supply. He wasn't clever enough to stockpile during the off-peak seasons, and he also had problems with material preparation. But the main problem, perhaps, lay in his personality; Kimie said her father was inherently lazy.

Note 2: May 5th is the Dragon Boat Festival, which is also Boys' Day. A majestic samurai doll is often displayed to celebrate.

The debt piled up, eventually forcing them to leave their rented apartment, tearing the family apart, and leaving them homeless. Junzhi was only fifteen years old at the time. The family was truly shattered, and Junzhi never knew what became of her lost younger siblings.

Of course, these words were not spoken in order.

For some reason, Xia Mujin seemed unable to find any interesting topics in her conversation. Every time she spoke, Xia Mujin would hurriedly try to end the conversation without much interest, and then continue with some incoherent remarks. But influenced by Xia Mujin's words, Junzhi seemed to recall long-forgotten past events one by one, and recount them one by one.

While I don't believe that Natsuki deliberately did this in anticipation of the desired effect, given the current situation, this unusual method of questioning is quite effective.

Kimie married at the age of nineteen to a ronin chef from Echigo. It might sound like a mundane job, but the income was surprisingly good. Kimie spent her first year living a carefree and happy life. From what I've heard, that year was probably the most stable and happiest time of Kimie's life.

But this happy time didn't last long. In the autumn of Showa 13 (1944), Yoriko was born.

Generally speaking, except for extremely poor families, having a child should be a very joyous event. For some, it's even the pinnacle of happiness. For a harmonious couple, the birth of a child can never be a bad thing.

But for Kimie, it was a different story.

Junzhi's husband dislikes children.

Although Junzhi had long suspected that her husband didn't seem to like children, he had at least been helpful in caring for her during her pregnancy and postpartum period, and hadn't shown any signs of distress or aversion. More importantly, he had never mentioned anything about Junzhi having an abortion. Therefore, after Laizi was born, Junzhi felt completely lost and disoriented by her husband's sudden change.

It's true that fathers who are willing to wholeheartedly care for their infants are rare, but even the most indifferent father would naturally feel some love for his first child. However, Junzhi's husband—if her words are true—was clearly different. He not only refused to care for or love the child, but he wouldn't even touch him or see his face. He reacted with fury, like a raging fire, to not only the crying but even the slightest sound from the baby.

Moreover, she had already been quite patient during the first two weeks after the child's birth, but after that, he became even more indifferent. When talking about the words her husband uttered at that time, all Junzhi could remember were—"So noisy," "So annoying," "Shut up," and "Get out"—and nothing more.

Junzhi believed that her parenting methods were flawed and tried desperately to make up for her mistakes.