“So how did you explain it? They must’ve asked what the motive was?” Everyone was listening agog. Zombie simply went on calmly with her story.
“I said I’d just felt it was all kind of pointless somehow, and the policeman really told me off. I only thought that if I said it was disappointment in love, it would’ve made things tricky for my boyfriend, see. But we split up anyway. He said he didn’t want to hang out with a girl who committed suicide at the drop of a hat.”
“That was honest of him.”
“Really was. And what about the fourth time?” Mitsuyo demanded, urging her on with the story.
“There’s more?” muttered Kita, with a wry smile.
“This time I was determined I wouldn’t cause anyone trouble and no one would get in my way, so I decided to give my heart an electric shock. I cut the lamp cord, and stuck one end onto my back with sticking plaster and the other between my breasts, and attached it up to a timer I’d bought at the electrical shop and set it to go off and kill me while I was asleep. I thought I’d be so tense I wouldn’t be able to sleep, so I drank lots of that stuff you take to avoid motion sickness, and off I went. I left a will on my desk. I was sure the electric current would hit my heart just as dawn broke and I’d die, but I woke up again near noon next day. I just lay there for a while in some kind of stupor, then I finally realized I’d left the plug out of the socket, so I’d failed again.”
“You forgot to plug it in before you went to bed?”
“No, I distinctly remembered plugging it in. But I guess I must’ve pulled it out without knowing. I toss and turn a lot in my sleep.”
“And when was that?”
“Last year maybe. When I was twenty-one.”
“So you’ve failed to kill yourself every three years since you were twelve, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess it’s just turned out like that.”
“So if you keep to pattern, the next time’s the year after next.”
“I can’t wait.”
Daikichi and Mitsuyo and Poo all turned to look at each other and grinned. Zombie smiled shyly too. “You’re putting a lot of pressure on me with all this anticipating,” she said, and she smiled over at Kita as if looking for support. At this, everyone’s smiling faces turned to him again, as if waiting for him to add the final word on the subject.
“You did well to get through death four times,” said Kita with a straight face. “No matter how you look at it, seems like you’re made to survive.”
“Mm, could be,” Zombie answered, blushing and covering her face with her hands.
His cheeks bulging with fried rice, Daikichi broke in, “But it’s a real waste to go using up your luck like that you know. Come on Zombie, let’s go to the races together. If you use up your luck at the races, you’ll actually get to die next time, you know.”
“Listen Daikichi,” Mitsuyo pointed out. “That name of yours already means ‘excellent luck’ if you think of how it’s written. I’d say your name’s swallowed all your luck.”
Daikichi nodded deeply. “Hisao Daikichi,” he commented. “That’s me. ‘Man of long life and excellent luck.’ I was born on New Year’s Day, see.”
Kita turned to Zombie, and casually asked how her real name was written. “Maybe you’ve got a name that’s unlucky for future suicide attempts,” he added. “Let’s see what the characters reveal.”
“Izumi Mizusawa,” she said. “Watery Stream Fountain.” The wet connotations struck Kita as just right for her.
The food on the table had largely disappeared by now. Occasional garlicky burps and sighs scented the air. Everyone was in need of a little light exercise after the meal. Kita glanced over at Mitsuyo. Would he be able to share her bed tonight? She sent him back a little smile.
“Death is ridiculous.”
Her abrupt remark startled Kita. “Eh?” he said. Gripping Zombie’s hand, Mitsuyo went on.
“Here she is, almost died four times, and she’s learned nothing. She doesn’t understand a thing. You feel a fool for listening to her. It turns you right off any idea of suicide, there’s that to be grateful for. Thanks for saving me, Zombie! Now how about saving Kita while you’re at it?”
Zombie seemed suddenly uncomfortable. Her eyes skimmed here and there around the room like a couple of flies. The others were grinning vaguely, having no idea what Mitsuyo was really trying to say. It suddenly struck Kita that he wanted to avoid being left alone with Zombie tonight. He agreed that death was ridiculous, and he could see just how bad Zombie’s luck was. Whether she managed to kill herself or not, others would only treat it as a farce. This was perfectly clear to him. And… and that’s precisely what he couldn’t stand. Death isn’t absolute. It doesn’t even teach you the nature of infinity. Zombie probably knew this, and that’s why she was putting it on.
“What’ll we do next?” Daikichi looked inquiringly at Kita to see how he was feeling. “How about heading off to a karaoke joint and really hitting it? Or maybe you got some other plan?”
Daikichi sure knew how to suck up. Kita picked up the bill that had been placed before him, and stood up. The others all thanked him and set off to follow, assuming there’d be more to the evening. After he’d paid, Kita lined them all up in front of the entrance, and took a commemorative photo with the camera Yashiro had given him.
After they’d done the rounds of a few game centres, shot dead a gang of forty-five, crashed seventeen cars, rescued two stuffed toys, and battled twenty-three combatants into unconsciousness, they polished off three games of bowls, and finally all tumbled into a love hotel that had a pool and karaoke machine.
They weren’t wasting a moment. No sooner were they in than they’d flung themselves into a singing competition. They divided up into two mixed sex teams and took turns to sing, using the electronic grading system to see who won. Losing meant taking off an item of clothing – not just the singer but everyone on the team. The plan was that the game would go on until everyone on one team lost all their clothes. Then they’d be flung in the pool. When Kita’s turn came, he sang ‘Cape Erimo,’ but he lost to Zombie’s rendition of ‘My Way’ so he and Calpis had to take off their trousers, while Mitsuyo was already faced with having to remove her bra. The competition was reaching its climax and Calpis had a bulge in his underpants, when Takako refused to take off her skirt and suddenly declared she had to go home before her curfew.
“I’ll see you home,” cried Calpis, struggling quickly back into the trousers he’d recently taken off, but the crotch was too tight and he couldn’t do up the zipper. Everyone laughed.
“What’s this? You’re off already? Before you’ve had a swim?” Daikichi stood there feet apart, the mike firmly gripped in his hand.
Then Poo also reached for her skirt, declaring she had to leave. Daikichi clicked his tongue reprovingly. “Why?” he demanded obstinately.
“But my boyfriend’s coming back tomorrow. From Mt. Fuji.”
“That’s tomorrow. You’re still free tonight.”
“But if we lose one more time I’ll have to take off my slip. I’d feel guilty about him.”
“You don’t know what he’s up to at Mt. Fuji, do you?”
“He’s on army exercises. He’s in the Self Defence Force. I want to be a good girl for him. He’s protecting our nation, right? If I serve him well, that means I’m serving the nation, see.”