Chapter 22: The path to hell is lined with what?
New Brunswick, NJ.
"What are we waiting for?"
Shinobu was getting impatient. Her motley crew had been in America for three days, but instead of looking for the man they thought was lost to them, they were sitting on their well-shaped rears in a plush suite at the Hyatt.
Naru sympathized with Shinobu's feelings. She too wanted to pound the pavement, but Su raised a good point. Naru was the only one – other than the resident genius – who spoke English well enough to navigate the bustling city landscape, and since she had to stay in doors because of the excessive heat of the Jersey summers, Naru would be of limited help.
Su was fluent, but she had to rebuild the Keitaro radar, which had been damaged during their long flight. Without the device, finding Keitaro would be a near impossible task. This left Kitsune and Shinobu with nothing to do but wait.
Shinobu left the living room where Kitsune and Naru were watching American television, and walked outside onto the balcony. The moment she opened the sliding door, Shinobu was hit by an oppressive wave of hot-thick-muggy air, the humidity causing her clothes to uncomfortably stick to her body. She took a moment to acclimate to the oppressive environment. Summers in Hinata Springs were hot, but being next to the ocean, never knew the terrible burden of humidity.
Once inured to the damp heat, Shinobu walked over to the railing and leaned over the side. Her eyes began to explore the surrounding terrain, hoping to spot a familiar face in the crowd below. New Brunswick had its tall buildings and heavy traffic, but it was no Tokyo. She was irritated that in a city so small, she could not find the man she loved and lost all those years ago. Her tiny hands gripped the rail, the whites of her knuckles clearly visible.
"I'll find you Keitaro, no matter what." That was the promise Shinobu made to herself when she learned that Keitaro was still alive. It was a promise she was determined to keep.
Shinobu reached behind and grabbed an object that was wedged between the small of her back and the waistline of her blue jeans. She gently stroked the wooden phallus, admiring the sheen of its lacquer finish. With a smooth motion, she gently eased the tanto out of its sheath. She held the blade into the air, admiring its gleaming surface as it reflected the light of the noonday sun. According to legend, the blade was forged by an Urashima as a gift to his beloved. Since then, it has been passed down the line until it finally came to Keitaro's possession. According to tradition, the wielder of the mystical tanto would find their one true love in this life. The legend held true for Keitaro – after all – he did find his promise girl. The legend, however, never mentioned anything about living happily ever after.
After Keitaro's supposed death, the blade was passed down to Kanako, who felt unworthy of the legacy. She was not a true Urashima, being adopted into the family, but she was the last of her generation to hold the name. Not many had known that Haruka, after a tragic car accident, was left barren, leaving Keitaro as the sole means of propagating the family bloodline. That burden now fell to Kanako.
But Kanako had no intention of fulfilling an empty duty. She could neither promulgate the Urashima bloodline, nor be with any other man except her beloved Keitaro. It was this deep devotion to her brother that swayed her decision in training Shinobu. She was the only one at the Hinata Apartments who treated Keitaro with love and respect, the only one deserving of his affection. In truth, Kanako felt a special kinship with Shinobu – they both were the unfortunate victims of unrequited love.
Four years ago…
Shinobu had suffered a near catatonic state of depression since Keitaro's accident. She never returned to the Hinata Apartments, spending most of those early days sitting alone in an empty apartment on the edge of Tokyo. That was until she heard the news of Keitaro's death.
Her mother feared the news would send her over the edge, which was her reason to hide the truth from her daughter. She did not want to leave Shinobu behind, but thinking that she was still ignorant of her love's death, felt it would be okay. Shinobu, however, overheard the phone conversation.
"He died, in a fire, how terrible," Ms. Maehera gasped into the receiver.
That was three hours ago.
The metallic clicking sound told Shinobu that her mother had left for work. It was time. She walked out onto the balcony. Her apartment rested on the fifteenth floor of a 30 story complex. She peered over the edge and began imagining the feeling of free falling: air rushing past her, the blurring of lights as she neared the cold concrete below, and the feel of her body impacting the ground below. The pain would be beyond description, but would last only a moment – she welcomed it.
"It would be a terrible waste of prettiness if you just jumped off like that," a voice rang out from behind. Shinobu's spine stiffened, the hairs on her arms straightening. "It can't be," she stuttered, knowing full well that what she heard was impossible.
The door was locked. No one else lived in the apartment but her and her mother. And the voice – it belonged to a dead man. Shinobu slowly turned her head, her eyes wide with anxious anticipation. "I mean, you've grown up into a sexy young girl and never even had a boyfriend. That's just a damn shame if you ask me. You should at least wait until you kissed someone," Keitaro spoke, his goofy grin ever present. "Keitaro!" Shinobu exclaimed with joy, still blushing from his comments. She ran to him, encapsulating Keitaro with her arms. She held so tight that Keitaro's eyes bulged from the pressure. "Easy girl, I may be dead, but that still hurts."
"Dead?" she replied, not daring to lessen her grip on the apparition. "Yep, in a fire," responded Keitaro, his toothy smile still present. "But then how could you be here?" she asked.
"Well, you see, you're a bit emotionally unstable and the news of my death kinda pushed you over the edge. So you can think of me as a visual, auditory delusion instigated by an acute traumatic event," he replied gingerly.
Shinobu pondered his words carefully. Could he be a delusion? She still possessed a sharp intellect capable of rational thought. Keitaro had died in a fire. He died while in a near vegetative state. There would be no way the man before her could be the real Keitaro.
Shinobu sighed, accepting the truth of her hallucination's words. She stepped back from him, her eyes downcast and sullen. "It was all just a pleasant dream, a last remembrance before the end," she whispered. Keitaro, in response, rubbed the back of his head and threw out another classic smile.
"I love you Keitaro," said Shinobu as she turned towards the railing, "I'll be with you soon." But before she could climb that final step to oblivion, arms shot past her, lassoing her in. "Now what did I say about jumping…by the way…has your chest grown since the last I saw you," Keitaro whispered into her left ear, the heat of his breathe making her shiver.
"What?" she stammered, in disbelief of how perverted her subconscious seemed to be. "Remember our promise Shinobu, it was a promise just between us," he finished, before dissolving into the gathering mist.
Shinobu trembled as his words penetrated her soul. She had made a promise to him – to get into Tokyo University. He was gone, but the promise remained. A promise made with the one you love is sacred and must always be kept. That's what Haruka told her once, a long time ago.
Crumbling onto the floor, Shinobu wept; her tears draining away the fetid emotions that were poisoning her heart. "I'm sorry Keitaro, please forgive me," she bawled, choking on her tears.
The next day, she left her home and sought out Kanako Urashima. Though they had never been close, Shinobu had always looked up to her, even envied her. Kanako, though a very strange person, possessed unmitigated gall and temerity. So deep was Kanako's conviction and determination that she was willing to suffer society's indignation to pursue a relationship with her own brother. Shinobu wanted to learn the same strength that gave Kanako her ability to stand up against an entire culture.
But even Kanako had her breaking point. It was her adoptive mother that broke the news to her a week before Shinobu found out.
"No, you're lying!" Kanako shrieked. Minutes before, Kanako felt an uncomfortable sensation forming in the pit of her stomach as her mother approached her. She had heard her mother cry during the night before. Kanako wanted to go to her mother, but something kept her back. She wished her father was home – he would surely know what to do – but he was in China visiting old friends.
In the morning, Kanako was in the kitchen, baking a batch of cookies for the store. She could hear her mother's light foot steps approaching her. Her years of martial arts training had taught her to read the environment – to gleam information from the most obscure of sources. And this morning, the environment told her that something dreadful was on its way.
"Honey, dear, I have something to tell you," her mother said, stammering out the words. Her eyes were bloodshot, tear streaks stained her cheeks. "Mother, what is it?" Kanako asked. Her mother clenched her eyes shut, praying silently to her God: "Give me strength dear lord."
Kanako reached out for her mother's clenched hands, "tell me mother, what's happened?" Her mother's eyes opened. She saw the eyes of her daughter, wide and quivering. She knew of Kanako's love for Keitaro and how it evolved from a child's innocent crush to a woman's blind passion.
"Keitaro died," her mother blurted out, collapsing from the horrendous release. There was no response at first. Kanako just stood silently in the kitchen. "That's not true," she finally responded, her voice barely audible. "I'm sorry," her mother sniffed, "there was a fire. Haruka tried to save him, but it was too late."
"No, you're lying?" Kanako shrieked, slamming her fist against the wall, shattering the tile into dust. Her mother rushed to her, trying to embrace her distraught daughter, but Kanako pushed her away.
"He's not dead, he can't be dead," Kanako stammered, stumbling onto the floor. Kanako's mother crawled to her, and then embraced her with all the tenderness she could muster. "It'll be okay," said her mother, cradling the young girl in her arms.
But they both knew that nothing would ever be right again.
A week had passed and the house that was once home to Keitaro Urashima was no longer a home to anyone. Keitaro's father, Kenji, never returned after hearing the news of his son's death. He had blamed his wife for driving their son away for pursuing a dream that he thought was worthy of their support. In truth, their marriage had been deteriorating at the seams long before Keitaro was forced out of their home. Keitaro's death had left an irreparable fissure in their relationship. Kenji returned to Japan only to pay his final respects for the son that he had lost. With freshly laid flowers on Keitaro's tombstone, Kenji Urashima said goodbye and never returned to the land of the rising sun.
Kanako had also made the decision to leave home. Though she knew her mother needed her, staying in the house where she grew up with her beloved brother was just too much for her to bear. After she had cried out the tears that fateful day, she ran out of her house. She ran down the street towards the train station that would take her to the Hinata Sou, but she did not stop there. She kept running, past the station, past the cars, and past the memories of a boy with the kindest of smiles.
When she reached the ancient steps of her ancestral home, Kanako's body screamed for rest. Though possessing a physique that even an Olympian would envy, Kanako had pushed her body past its limits, running the entire 20 or so miles to traverse the distance between her home and the Hinata Apartments.
Still, she would not relent. A horrendous roar could be heard for miles, the sound of defiance from a young girl pushing past physical torment. She climbed the hundred steps, the skin on her knees and shins shredded by the uncompromising stone, thinking of only one thing – to see her Keitaro once more.
It was the smell that struck her first – the unmistakable stench of smoldering ash. Her heart raced, pounding her tiny frame with tremendous force. Forcing the last drops of adrenaline into her system, Kanako climbed the final steps that led to the courtyard.
What awaited her nearly broke Kanako. All that remained of the grand estate was the charred foundations of the house and black ash. "Keitaro," Kanako screamed, running towards the wreckage. Suddenly, a blazing fist slammed into her gut, sending her wheeling back. Numbness spread throughout her body. Kanako crumbled to the ground as her diaphragm began to spasm, hindering her breathing. As she began to slip from consciousness, Kanako caught a final glimpse of a person hovering above her, the slight scent of tobacco hanging in the air. "Sorry kid, but it was for your own good," said Haruka, lighting the cigarette in her mouth.
A day later, Kanako awoke, lying in her own bed. It came to her first as a dull ache, a curious sensation that caught her by surprise. But then the sensation grew into an explosive pain that shot throughout her body. Kanako writhed in agony, yelling out for someone to end her pain.
Someone answered her call. Haruka grabbed hold of Kanako's floundering left arm, and quickly injected her with vial of clear liquid. "What did you do?" Kanako gasped, feeling the relief spreading from the injection site. "I just gave you a shot of morphine, nothing to trouble yourself. You tore up a lot of good muscle tissue with that little run of yours," Haruka replied as she gently massaged Kanako's sore limbs, coaxing healing energy into them.
Kanako relished the waves of relief that she was sweeping over her, but reality came crashing into her thoughts. Snapping out of her reverie, Kanako turned her icy gaze towards Haruka. "Tell me" Kanako demanded, beginning to seethe in anger.
Haruka felt her emotions, like bile, rising in her throat. She had rehearsed this scene a thousand times over, knowing that her plan relied on convincing Kanako. Haruka knew that the pain she was about to cause would damn her for all eternity, a price she was almost unable to pay.
Taking a deep breathe, Haruka finally spoke.
"It was an electrical fire…"