The World Is a Scandal by Itself
By Rob Morris
Whatever tradition truly was in these cases, Kenjiro's elderly parents (who had doted on the sons they once though they would never have) did not think well of divorce. So as his father sat by his hospital bed, his words were almost shocking.
"Your mother and I agree. You should end things with this woman and take your little girl away from her forever. If your mother could rise from her sick bed, she would be here with me and say the same."
Kenji knew his father was not senile. Nor was he apt to repeat himself at all, let alone within the same sentence. So he knew this was serious.
"All respect, but it was you two who drilled into me, and to my brother – you keep with that choice, that vow you made in the sight of Heaven. You also made me aware – even if they are a bunch of busybodies and hens, the whispers of those around you about your family matter. What will it look like, one brother suddenly dropped dead, the other turning his wife away? To say nothing of a niece who by law, I cannot discuss except with those who knew her mother was pregnant and delivered?"
His father had come there at some risk to himself. Before 'Hana' was taken away by Dr. Kurama, their greatest worry had been that her grandparents would not live to see her. They had lived, but they would still die soon without ever having glimpsed her.
"I grieve for that little horned angel. But she is gone from us, forever. Mayu is not. Not yet. Did you know your mother attempted to see her at your home, and was turned back? Shin kept insisting the girl was in school in the very late afternoon. Your mother is on in years, but she is no idiot. Like the artist Michaelangelo, you have insisted that an angel resides inside the stone all others see. But unlike that artist, you have chiseled and found only more hardened stone. You kept your vow to Heaven. But Heaven never let you see that there was no other soul involved in that marriage. It is a sham, and as a last act of respect to your parents, we ask you to call it done."
As Arika arrived to take the old man to see his fallen son's grave, Kenjiro told his father he would obey their wishes, which he realized fully were his own wishes and those of reality itself.
Yet before the week was out, his parents would be laid to rest beside his brother. What the then-unknown Lucy had not taken, what their own government had not seized, it seemed increasingly like the Heaven he and his family had sworn before was determined to rip from their grasps. He knew that thought petty at best and blasphemous at worst, but increasingly, he simply no longer cared.
But he still cared about his little Mayu. And his soon-to-be ex-wife? Well, she, in, the simple act of being her spiteful self, had given him the perfect opening to begin getting her out of his life.
"You've a lot of nerve, showing up here, after abandoning us!"
He plowed through the manure. This time, he was ready. He hoped.
"You never once came to the hospital. There are spouses who have shot at and stabbed each other who make at least a visit."
He knew better than to let her speak.
"You also refused to come to my parents' funeral, or let our daughter see her grandparents one last time. Yes, I get it. We've all shown you, wondrous you, such massive disrespect. Well, here's something to confirm your view of me, and of the world. I want a divorce, and I want full custody of Mayu. Forget everything you are about to say. You can't stand your daughter. You've made that clear. I can let you have this house, and some visitation rights, but if you put up a fight, you will regret it."
A small head poked around the corner from her room. The face on the little girl lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Papa! Oh, Papa! You've come home at last! Mayu wants you to never leave again!"
Kenjiro had once more underestimated the lack of a soul behind the eyes of his future former wife. He thought the embrace he and his child shared was to be the first of many free of the shadow of anger and petty rage. In fact, it would be their last for years to come.
"Papa never wants to leave again, Mayu-dumpling. When you finish school this year, we will go away together forever. This is my promise!"
Sending Mayu back to her room, Kenjiro moved to cut off ever more avenues for Shin to explode on.
"You raise a hand to her, I will cut both your arms off and throw them in a wood chipper. You raise your voice to her, I'll tear your throat out with my teeth. I'm warning you again, Shin—don't fight this. I have numerous people willing to testify what a pain and nightmare you are. I don't wish to destroy my daughter's mother in court, but so help me I will."
He left her standing there, fuming. Yet once again, he had outsmarted himself, and let the idea that the person he had wed had such things as common decency. For if he was not looking forward to savaging Mayu's other parent, she surely was.
Another person despised by Shin Hagiwara (and the feeling was lethally mutual, if feelings alone could be that) was her soon to be former sister-in-law. Some would say that Arika was adjusting incredibly well to the successive losses of her infant daughter (through 'miscarriage' though some few knew better), her husband, and finally, her husband's sweet and gentle parents.
Those some few would be wrong.
"I didn't ask for a copy of Sailor Moon Tankobon 1."
The shop owner shrugged.
"It's a freebie. I had spare copies."
Arika tossed it back at him.
"Now you have one more. My order is full, and I'd like to pay for it."
The owner openly sighed.
"Please take it."
Arika showed annoyance, which the owner and his otaku customers actually reveled in, since the only woman who ever came in their shop was starting to seem incapable of emotion.
"Because I'm a girl?"
The owner looked down, and then again at her.
"No, dammit! Because I would like to give you something where the world doesn't end in flames – well, it does, in ice, but that's like a far future that leads to a utopia-oops."
Arika placed it back by his hand again.
"Damn, the whole series is spoiled now. Too bad."
The owner gestured at the rack behind him.
"Then in the name of Heaven, please take anything not by Nagai, Tomimo, Kitoh, Ito—and especially Mark Millar. Yeah, he's not a mangaka, but he makes me want to slit my wrist. Pick anything that does not involve a demon tentacle impaling a baby and then bisecting the mother length-wise!"
Arika frowned.
"That was one of the best scenes in Devilman. Wish it had been in the OVA. Now you mentioned Millar – ahhh, WANTED – much better than the movie."
Arika actually was briefly unnerved when every other voice in the shop responded in unison:
"That's a given."
But Arika regained her footing when she tossed in one more item.
"The Illustrated Clive Barker. That should do it. So should we settle up, barkeep?"
The owner, who admittedly did not have enough customers, and certainly not enough pretty ones, pushed her selections back behind his counter.
"I'd say you've had enough."
As Arika left to seek another shop, one of that shop's more stable customers walked up to the owner.
"So, Bro? What's her story?"
The owner actually looked around before responding.
"Remember that little sister your Mom didn't have?"
The otaku now looked kind of sad.
"Geez, her, too?"
The owner shook his head.
"This is turning into one of those things that no one talks about but everyone knows about. Kind of like my uncle and his 'best friend'. What are they even doing with these kids? I'm telling you, it's 731 all over again."
The young otaku remembered smiling at his little sister before being ordered to forget he ever had one.
"Huh? 731? Is that like the Illuminati or that crap?"
The owner straightened his stock. Arika was not careful about her browsing.
"No, 731 was for real. Our guys set up in China and did – whatever they wanted to whoever they wanted. For SCIENCE!"
The younger man shook his head.
"I guess they don't teach that downer stuff anymore. Then again, it took me till last year to figure out Pearl Harbor was a surprise attack. Cause our books sure don't tell it."
Given how seeing Arika dwelling in the apocalypse manga always depressed him, the owner enjoyed the talk.
"Don't get me wrong. The Yanks and the Allies could all be rotten. But in the Axis? We specialized in deep rotten. 731, Mengele – and what was it the Germans called their 'super-kids' program?"
The otaku pulled a picture from a hidden portion of his wallet. It was him, holding and kissing on the cheek a smiling baby girl the law now said never existed. He had used a disposable camera, and a developing machine with no digital back-up. Otherwise, they would have found him by now.
"I think they called it 'Lebensborn' Bro. Gonna rat me out?"
The owner shrugged.
"She deserved better. They all deserved better. We all deserve better. Or maybe these births are what we deserve? Maybe—maybe we're the ones living in an apocalypse manga?"
The younger man tried for an answer.
"I dunno. Do we have any doomsday cult members occupying high positions in government?"
The two laughed before parting ways, but whether that laughter was genuine or anxious, neither could say.
As his brother's widow tried to lose herself and her grief over a baby with horns in the worlds of a mangaka who did not believe in the innocence of children, Kenjiro learned anew (and for perhaps the last time) the folly of trusting in the humanity of his estranged wife.
"What do you mean, you wish to keep her? The day we presented Mayu to our families, you said, and I quote: "Everyone's fawning over the miracle, and not the one who made it happen." You also said you wished we waited to have children – forever. Has anything of that changed?"
Inside, he knew he had changed. All of the patience and excuses he once knew better than sacred prayers were exhausted, and he now recalled none of this things with 'bemusement'. Now there was only rage. Rage that was met by more and much better practiced rage.
"What will people say of me if I turn my child out, or worse yet, allow her to be taken away like your brother allowed for his freak? I will not have neighbors and friends casting aspersions on me."
There was so very much wrong with her selfish tirade. But he touched none of it, especially the toxic 'neighbors and friends' part.
"Fine, you're a great Japanese mother. I will proclaim to all who know us: My former wife is devastated by the sudden and savage murder of her beloved brother. Wishing to protect our child from having to witness her in such a state, she asked me to care for her alone until this horrible time begins to pass from our memories. I regret that we had to part ways, but she is so devoted a mother, this was the only path she saw."
Kenjiro wondered if he could find a Catholic Priest, this to give the Truth itself Last Rites and a proper burial. But he knew the path to her agreement was a thorough buttering-up, or at least he thought he knew this.
"My daughter will stay with me. The unfit and unworthy who flee like craven cowards when the slightest thing goes wrong…"
While he wanted to give her one finger, he instead showed his still-scarred one, bitten off and sewed back on – with some stomach acid burns. She showed no remorse or embarrassment.
"Yes, show everyone what you made me do. This conversation is over!"
He blocked her from closing the door. He leaned up into her face.
"You don't want her. You've never wanted her. So why are you trying to keep her now?"
She had thought this was her moment of triumph. She would be proven badly wrong in this. She smirked.
"Because you DO want her. And I want to thwart whatever it is that you want—even at the cost of having to care for that mewling disobedient brat!"
Slamming the door this time, she watched him walk away from inside.
Satisfied as he briskly rounded the corner, she did not see Kenjiro pull a small tape recorder out of his pocket, followed by his cell-phone.
"Yes, it went just like you suggested. She couldn't resist bragging on her 'scheme'. No—no more hesitation, for Mayu's sake. I want her away from that monster for real and for good. We have this recording – let's bury her with it in court."
After he hung up, Kenjiro tried not to hate himself.
Arika found that her job and her dark fictional urges were not quite enough to drive away the images of a little girl almost named Hana. So the Association of Mothers Touched by Sudden Infant Death Syndrome seemed a good place to reasonably vent. It was not impolite, they decided, to burden others with your problem when all shared the exact same tragedy. In fact, there were two such groups in the areas and towns around Kamakura.
In one of these, the women (and some few fathers) spoke tenderly of finding their child already gone in their cribs, and what they tried to do to reverse or deny this grim circumstance.
In the one Arika attended, attendants were vetted by inquiring as to whether their family had received aid from some 'nice people from the government' in their time of need. When some applicants to this second group said no or were confused by the question, they were gently guided to join that first group instead.
As time had gone on, more and more chairs were empty. One had the name placard removed. Arika asked the group leader about those missing.
"Her? Hell, they found her in a sealed garage, engine running."
Another chair had a name on it but no occupant.
"That girl wanted no more reminders. Took a job in Maine, of all places, or as she put it, as far away from my baby's non-existent grave as possible. Not really sure if it is the furthest, but it is far away."
Another woman looked far too chipper.
"She and the hubby are going to try again. She says a lot of women in her family have twins, and maybe if she has them this time, at least one of them won't have…won't die of crib death. Either brave or stupid. Most consider having the tubes tied – guys too."
One tall, well-kempt woman with glasses sat in the corner, looking all forlorn, even by the standards of that place.
"She just comes here and sits down, doesn't talk to anyone. I'd check her out, but truth be told, we can't be chasing anyone off. A lot of us just end up shrugging and saying it's time to move on. Can't blame them, but I'm not ready for that, just yet."
Arika turned and noticed someone slightly familiar.
"You! You're the otaku from the shop! Are you stalking me, you little piece of-?"
The group leader moved between them.
"Rika, you're way out of line. This is a good kid who's trying to honor the memory of his little sister, the one his mother now loudly denies ever having. He helps clean up this place, so we can keep to our business."
The kid was near enough to tears that Arika saw he was for real.
"I was gonna be an Onii-Chan. Someone was gonna call me that. And I would have beaten up bullies and fresh guys for her, and everything."
As if to prove his belonging, the young man pulled out his precious hidden picture, and showed it to Arika.
"See how precious she was? I was gonna make sure nothing bad ever happened to her. Because that's what a big brother does, right?"
Arika now wished the little fool had been stalking her, even tried to go chikan on her. Because seeing that little horned girl ripped apart all her denial and breezy inoculating plunges into the many mangaka-created apocalypses available to a soul in despair.
"She's—she's beautiful!"
Yet as Arika handed the photo back, it was snatched away from both her and its owner. The forlorn woman with glasses had suddenly sprung to life. Tucking the photo away, she had a cell-phone in one hand, and a pistol in the other.
"Yes, Room Monitor. We have the contraband our source spoke of. It will be disposed of, once we return to HQ. I'll file a full report with Oomori-San-oh? With Isobe-San, then. Shirakawa out."
The boy-man fell to his knees, pleading with the field agent.
"PLEASE! IT'S ALL I HAVE OF HER! I WAS GONNA BE AN ONII-CHAN! No one in all the world thinks I'm cool, but she would have, at least for a while. Let me have it back. Anyone who sees it will just say I photoshopped it or something."
Shirakawa turned to leave, but the otaku got in front of her.
"Watch yourself. You've already broken the law by keeping this."
He shook his head.
"I can't stop you. I'm not that stupid. But please-give me a number—any old number associated with her, where you take them. Do this, so that at night, I can at least send her a prayer for good fortune and her big brother's love."
Shirakawa did something that also technically broke the law, but she had the photo, and wanted to avoid a further scene. Arika saw her check a data-pad that looked much more advanced than anything she had ever seen.
"Number 28. Send your prayer to the girl in Room 28. That is all you get."
After Shirakawa left, the meeting broke up. As she herself left, Arika saw one woman glance nervously at the otaku, which prompted Arika to walk up to her.
"Him? He's harmless. He'd never hurt you. But I might. Because I hate snoopy rats. My sister-in-law is a snoopy rat. Do yourself a favor and don't attend any more meetings. Oh, and tell me—did they give you all thirty pieces at once?"
In fact, there were no more meetings of this group. Grief, broken trust and the reveal of continued government scrutiny combined with the futility of it all to make it all seem pointless. Arika wanted to go to her one remaining family member, even if only an in-law, but did not know of his marriage troubles. In her overwrought state, she honestly feared killing Mayu's mother in front of her, and so decided to simply go home, lonely though it was.
"Kenjiro-Kun?"
He was standing outside her house, his face looking only slightly better than the young man whose heart she saw broken in front of her eyes.
"Arika-chan, I'm getting a divorce. I finally decided to play her dirty game and fight hard. But how can I ever match her low-life behavior? She's now alleging that I am and have been a menace to my daughter's honor and innocence!"
Arika had thought 'Shin-Bitch' couldn't surprise her anymore. She was proven badly wrong.
"You—harm Mayu-chan? Damn it, Kenji-Kun, make her prove it in court! She has always been full of shit, but now I think it's leaking out her eyes and ears too. A court will see that, and maybe toss her in Arkham Asylum!"
Kenjiro paused his despair.
"That's fictional."
Arika nodded.
"Just for her, we'll make it real."
He shook his head.
"I have to take it slow. My attorney says that there's a good chance a sudden flurry of back and forth charges about this sort of thing could get Mayu placed in the foster care system, till they sort things out. Who the hell knows what could happen to her in there?"
He looked down.
"I also have no place to stay. My rental's lease—I've been so busy dealing with her bullshit I—"
She took his hand.
"You'll stay here. Knowing Shin-Bone, she'll probably say we're having an affair anyway. You're alone, Kenji, and I can't face my family in Sapporo, when they all knew I was pregnant. Stay with me. Please."
Silently promising his dead brother he would keep things between them as though she really were his own sister, Kenjiro grabbed his few belongings and moved in. The next morning, as Arika anticipated, Mrs. Okuno from down the way knocked on her door.
"So—did he finally leave that yelping monster?"
Her attitude was, to say the least, not what she had been expecting.
"Okuno-San, I swear that we are not sleeping together. For one thing, we're both too numb. For another, we both loved my husband. He did leave—his wife—and is trying to get his daughter away from her custody. When all that is settled, he will move out."
The older lady shrugged.
"I say, start screwing. Your husband hated his brother's wife and would rather you be with him, I'm certain. As to his little girl, I have never encountered a child who apologized that much while being such an angel. Maybe she should be written off as well. That possessive harridan would probably kill her rather than give up what she sees as her property—or trophy. Arika-chan, you two get together and make your own baby. You two are alive and sane. The same can't be said for your respective spouses."
Arika had been fighting these kinds of thoughts as Kenjiro lay on the living room floor, and resented them being brought up to her face.
"What of the gossip? What about the scandal?"
Mrs. Okuno sighed.
"Honey, there are dead men all over the place who had healthy hearts. There are women who lost their children to something the law forbids them to even broach. I'm old, you hear things. A lonely couple getting together after their situations are forever upended? That's not a scandal. That God permits this world to continue? That's the scandal."
She left, and after she closed the door, she saw Kenjiro standing behind her, the common ache between them finally proving too much as their lips met.