The Spirit Drum Read online

  But I soon realized that this was a foolish thought. Tsumaki sat down across from me and began to speak at once.

  "I tried mixing and matching these drum heads and barrels. But none of the other combinations worked particularly well. So, in the end, the original pairings were the best."

  "Which is how the drums are now, correct?"

  "That's right."

  "Do they all play well?"

  "Yes. Each is one of my aunt's prized possessions. As you can see, the barrels are designed according to the seasons––Spring Sakura, Summer Waves, Autumn Leaves, and Winter Snow––and when played during their respective seasons sound especially delightful. Try for yourself."

  "But isn't your aunt going to come home soon?"

  "We're safe, it's only three o-clock. She always comes home around five or six in the afternoon."

  "Well then, if you'll excuse me…" I bowed and removed my coat. Tsumaki sat up straight.

  Beginning with the closest drum––a scene of snowy pine trees––I tried each one in turn. Tsumaki listened without moving a muscle as each drum made a proper sound unlike when I had played in Kudan.

  “Indeed, these are well-made instruments.”

  Speaking only words of genuine praise, I next played the autumn drum, then the summer one, and finally picked up the sakura-patterned one, when suddenly my heart skipped a beat. The barrels of the other drums were all aged, yet this one was brand new. Could it be that the gold lacquer pattern, having been incompatible with the seasonal motif, had been painted over by a spring-themed pattern? Could the original pattern have contained auspicious symbols?

  “When did you happen to obtain this drum?” I asked, not yet trying the final drum.

  “Hmm. I honestly have no idea.”

  “Do you mind if I take a closer look at the barrel?”

  “Of course, go ahead,” replied Tsumaki, a strange rasp in his voice.

  I loosened the aged, yellowed string and detached the barrel. Peering inside, I gasped.

  Inside the barrel, lined with irregular marks from carving that still looked fresh––a special technique created by my ancestor Kuno––appeared a wood grain of red oak with a complex pattern strongly resembling snakeskin, which seemed to glow bright enough to burn my eyes. As if grabbing a real snake, my hands suddenly trembled and let go, dropping the barrel. It rolled down my leg and bumped into the knee of Tsumaki sitting beside me.

  “Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!” Tsumaki suddenly broke out laughing. Chuckling uncontrollably he contorted his body, grasping his chest, eventually collapsing to the tatami mat where he continued laughing, twisting this way and that like a patient of hysteria.

  “Ha, ha, ha, you really fell for it…” he said as the maniacal laughing returned.

  My body began to tremble badly, even my jaw shook. I shivered while gazing into Tsumaki’s dark glasses, not knowing if from fear, horror, or annoyance. But once his laughing finally quieted down I curiously felt myself calming down too, as if being led by Tsumaki. All that remained was a slight tingling in my scalp.

  Tsumaki wiped his tears as his laughter subsided.

  “Oh, that was funny. That was just hilarious,” he chuckled again. ”I’m so sorry Mr. Otomaru…I mean Mr. Takabayashi. The truth is that I have deceived you. In fact, I was testing to see if you really knew about the legend of this drum. Because I showed you all around the house and feigned searching, you thought that I didn’t know where the drum was. You didn’t suspect that it was actually right here.”

  After another brief fit of laughter he continued. “All that talk about sleeping pills was a fabrication. I actually play the drum every day with my aunt…”

  My gaping mouth refused to close. Dumbfounded, I could only stare at Tsumaki’s face.

  “You’re an insolent, yet honest chap. And you came here with full knowledge of this drum…"

  “Why does that matter?” I said, suddenly feeling angry. I was thinking it was improper for him to laugh while I was taking things seriously…when Tsumaki wiped the tears from behind his glasses and sat up straight again. He apologized, this time utterly serious.

  “I’m sorry, so terribly sorry. Don’t get upset at me. I wasn’t making fun of you. If I could, I would have made sure that you never found this drum and gave up your search, and I would try to distance you from the curse. That’s why I showed you the drum before you began to suspect anything. But my plan was a horrible failure. Since you knew even about the wood grain of the barrel, there’s no doubt that you came here after hearing your father’s last request. You intend to take possession of this hand drum and smash it to pieces. Am I wrong?”

  What a dreadfully unexpected turn of events…Suddenly, all my blood rushed to my head…and the next moment cold sweat began to trickle down my armpits, my arms and legs went limp, and as I collapsed forward I thrust out a hand towards the floor to support myself.

  “There’s something I’ve been keeping from you…” Tsumaki said with an oddly hoarse voice while removing his dark glasses. “Seijiro, the one who left the Takabayashi residence seven years ago, is…me.”

  “Oh, young master…”

  Tsumaki was speechless.

  Before I knew it, we were gripping hands tightly. Tears fell from the young master’s eyes, apparently nearsighted despite his young age.

  “How I wanted to see you…”

  I broke down crying at his knees. Sharp are the pangs of the desolation of one who possesses not even a single blood relative; from somewhere deep within me welled up an ineffable sadness.

  The young master placed his hands on my back and sobbed quietly for some time, but eventually began speaking in fragmented speech.

  “I wish I could say…I was glad to see you…but ever since I…heard you were taken in by the Hayabayashi family…I was worried that…you might come here…”

  I remembered my father’s final words––If you try to play a hand drum, over time you’ll naturally desire a better instrument. And, in the end, you’ll surely be tempted by that drum. It was only now that I was able to fully realize the great influence of this fate. But, at the same time, I got the feeling that the barrel of the so-called “Spirit Drum” lying at my knees was nothing more than a mere piece of wood, and later, when I thought about this, I would realize how truly strange it was.

  Before long, the young master gently lifted me up off his knees and looked into my eyes again.

  “I presume now you understand everything.”

  “Yes…except for one thing…” I said, wiping my tears.

  “Young master…why don’t you return this drum to the Hayabashi family?”

  At this, an unspeakably painful expression appeared on his brow.

  “You don’t understand…do you?”

  “No, I don’t,” I answered honestly. The young master let out a small sigh.

  “Well then, I will make sure that when you return here, all will be made clear. And I will ensure that you gain rightful possession of this hand drum.”

  “Rightful…possession…”

  “Yes. When that time comes, you must destroy this drum with your own two hands so that it never causes trouble again. Just as your ancestor had requested…”

  “My own two hands…”

  “That’s right. I’ve been ruined, mind and body. Because of this drum’s curse…I’ve grown thin and wasted away…and have even lost the power to destroy the drum.”

  Tsumaki said this quietly as if speaking to himself, gazing outside at the darkening evening. “She should be returning any time now…Lady Tsuruhara, that is…“

  I exited the gate of the Tsuruhara residence, head hung low.

  Today was the first time I’ve been thrown into such a complete state of confusion. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined such a family would exist. Everything seemed bizarre, like part of a dream, and yet it all felt more disturbing, frightening, joyful, and sorrowful than a dream.

  First the young master, who abandoned his obligat
ions, forsook his name, and even ate the candies from his own memorial service…and the widow of the Viscount Tsuruhara, who seemed to pretend he was a nephew, confine him to her house, and order him around like a maid…there was also that exquisite dressing room, that eerie sickroom, that leather whip, and The Spirit Drum––What an enigmatic world! What an absurd family! I was unable to believe what I saw with my own eyes.

  As I was thinking this, I suddenly realized the bulge in my chest. Looking down, I saw pieces of the box that the young master had crumpled up sticking out of my pocket. I withdrew the bundle and raised my head, considering where to dispose of it. Just then I halted, having nearly bumped into a lady coming towards me whose gaze was directed at the ground.

  She too stopped and raised her head.

  The graceful-looking woman had a fair complexion, probably around 24 or 25. Her large head of hair was done up fashionably. Wearing a black-crested kimono with a white collar, there was a certain sophistication to her, like an actress in the theater. She held something in one hand, but at that time I didn’t yet know what it was.

  Then, for no particular reason, I bowed to her. The woman bowed gracefully in return, then continued past me. A sweet fragrance caressed my face and touched something deep inside of me.

  When I walked forward, suppressing the nearly unbearable urge to turn around and look back, my forehead started sweating profusely. Once I finally reached Kogai Bridge, a rickshaw suddenly came down the hill on the left, and continued past me. Right then I glanced behind me.

  A dark figure stood on the wooden bridge in front of the Tsuruhara residence, carrying something wrapped in purple cloth. A pale face turned towards me.

  I quickly escaped, turning off the main road onto a side street.

  ***

  Dear Mr. Kyuya Otomaru,

  I would like to apologize for my actions the other day.

  My heart and soul have been corrupted by the evil power of that drum, and as you can see I have been reduced to a powerless being as a result. But I think you believe there is still some part of me that is not yet fully corrupted. I share that same belief, hence my writing of this letter.

  Would you be able to come to the Tsuruhara residence on the 26th at exactly five p.m.? If that time is not good for you, anytime after that is fine, so please let me know. But on second thought, it would be really best if you came at five.

  I expect that the next time we meet, you will be able to gain possession of The Spirit Drum. Furthermore, at that time I think you will come to know a secret that you have heretofore been unaware of. It concerns a matter strongly connected to the Otomaru and Tsuruhara families for ages, and what I believe will be an extremely unexpected, even strange discovery to you.

  Nevertheless, if you will excuse my rudeness, I have a request to make of you.

  You may feel this to be an unusual request, but even so I would like to ask it.

  There are exactly ten days left until the 26th, and before then I would like you to acquire a completely new set of clothes that you will wear upon your return. To the extent possible, I would like you to be clothed in respectable attire befitting a young master of renowned hand drum lineage. Of course, you must tell no one of my request. The reason will become evident immediately upon your arrival. I have enclosed a check for 1000 yen from Toyo Bank. Lady Tsuruhara’s name is listed, but this is actually a portion of my savings. It is a very small amount, but I offer it as a token of thanks and congratulations for taking over in my place as successor. Finally, please continue to keep all details of our relationship secret, even once you return here.

  On the evening of the 26th, it will be decided whether you can, or cannot put an end to the one hundred years of ill fortune brought about by The Spirit Drum. At the same time, it will also be determined whether I, having not taken a step outside this house for seven years, will be liberated at last. I eagerly await your hand of salvation.

  March 17th

  Seijiro Takabayashi

  ***

  I tore the letter into tiny shreds and tossed it out the window of the automobile. We had just passed through Shiba Park and turned right at Akabane Bridge.

  I watched my reflection on the glass before me, swaying with the movement of the vehicle.

  Lined kimono with embroidered crest, hand-selected by a Mitsukoshi clerk; Hakata woven belt; hakama skirt of bright yellow; purple short coat; white tabi socks with felt sandals; stylish navy-blue wool cloak and matching colored fedora with a white ribbon––this absurdly effeminate outfit looked oddly good on me, giving the impression of an introverted student of the arts. Had it been any other time, I would have probably broken out laughing.

  Placing my hands on cheeks haggard from worrying over these last few days, I brought my face close to the glass behind the driver. Despite having just cut my hair and shaved, I felt as if I had aged two years. Even the reddish tinge on my cheeks had disappeared completely.

  When the automobile stopped at the Tsuruhara residence, the young master…or should I say Tsumaki, wearing the same white and indigo blue hakama from the other day but without his glasses, came out and bowed low to the floor. He extended his hands, ruddy probably from kitchen work, and took my bag of old clothes from the driver and placed them quietly in the adjacent guest room. Then he took the wrapped box of Shiose candy from me, made an unnaturally dramatic bow, and led me into the house. Feeling like I was being swindled, a piece in some sort of game, I walked down the well-polished hallway.

  The inner guest room, hot and stuffy, was filled with the scent of an aromatic tree. As the widow was not present I was somehow relieved and sat down at a convenient place.

  At the time the appearance of the room seemed very different, but when I thought about it later I realized it hadn’t actually changed much. Perhaps my initial impression was because the yellow lampshades hanging in the middle of the room had been removed and replaced by beautiful purple ones. The room had two fluffy blue-gray cushions and a cylindrical brazier made of gold-lacquered paulownia wood; in the alcove was a hanging scroll of a white peacock and a vase of white peonies, and behind me a round bronze electric heater that glowed bright red.

  Tsumaki entered and poured the tea without even so much as a glance in my direction. I bowed stiffly to him. I felt like a criminal on trial awaiting the judge’s arrival.

  Unable to wait for Tsumaki to leave the room, I glanced towards the four hand drums displayed openly on the shelf, for I somehow felt that these were the instruments that would carry out my death penalty tonight. I went through the lines of an old Noh chant in my head to calm myself down: “In these four drums…of all the world…of all the world…is love…and hate…”

  There was the sensation of the door behind me opening soundlessly and Lady Tsuruhara slipping into the room.

  I made an effort not to be thrown into confusion like the other day, and slid gracefully into a chair.

  “Oh…please have a seat…” she said with a pure, elegant voice and gave a shallow bow, then came to sit directly across for me, folding together her faintly pink fingers.

  My determination collapsed in an instant. Unable to even look up, I stared down at the tatami mat, listening to my heartbeat quickening in a way it had never done before as the inexplicably charming scent from before overtook my entire body.

  “It’s nice to meet you…Welcome to our house…I have heard so much about you…”

  As I listened to the flow of her speech in a dream-like state my emotions gradually calmed down. “Please…make yourself at home…and also…” Right after hearing these words I was able to raise my head. It was then that I finally got a good look at Lady Tsuruhara.

  Glossy black hair, done up in a traditional marumage style. Long and narrow well-formed eyelids. Cheeks with a hint of a curve. Skin from her round chin to the elegant back of her neck that was so white it seemed nearly transparent…Wearing a pale blue jacket over a kimono of the same color and a black belt, she looked exquisitely noble, like
a soulless doll.

  Struck by the considerable gap between what I now beheld and what I had been desiring for the last few days, I froze for a moment, dumbfounded. But why…I didn’t even know why I had come to see this woman.

  Then she spoke in a soft voice, apparently a continuation from before.

  “And so I scolded my nephew, asking him why he would send you home like that…You are an ancestor of the Otomaru family, and if you have asked to see that hand drum I cannot think of a better opportunity…”

  I glanced at the woman’s face, remembering I wasn’t supposed to have seen the drum yet. But, struck by those long eyebrows and the elegance of those clear, dark eyes, I lowered my gaze again.

  “…Why did he not show you the drum? Could there not be a more fortunate turn of events? During the many years we played these drums together, have I ever heard a gloomy, accursed tone come from that drum? I told him I would gladly hand over the drum to anyone who could produce the sound it is supposed to make…”

  I was compelled to raise my head. This time, it was the widow herself who looked forlorn with eyes downcast.

  “…And when I told him that, my nephew said he would send you a letter. He said he was going to ask me to bring the letter to you. When I told him how rude that would be, he said he was sure you would come since you had not yet played that hand drum…what a fool he is…everything he says is so terribly impolite…”

  The woman blushed and looked at me. I smiled awkwardly, feeling even my ears suddenly turn fiery red; for I thought that she was about to say she also knew about the bean-jam wafers…

  “However, an idea occurred to me, so I had my nephew take up the pen and send you that letter…for which I am terribly…” she said, lowering her head.

  “Think nothing of it…” I barely managed to say, hurriedly pulling a handkerchief from my sleeve and wiping my face. Just then, the light above me switched on, glowing a dazzling purple.

  “Did you have need of anything…” Tsumaki said, sticking his head into the room. It seems she had rung the bell without me noticing.