The Spirit Drum Page 5

  “Are you done with your work?” The widow stared at Tsumaki, and for an instant I clearly saw in her eyes a hint of not indifference, but cruelty. My body suddenly tensed up, for I had glimpsed what some call the “power of beauty”; but it was also because I had seen the utterly miserable, emaciated form of Tsumaki, the young master, being controlled like a slave by this same power.

  “Yes, ma'am. Everything is…” Tsumaki made a graceful, feminine bow.

  “…well then, come inside. Please…close the door behind you….and also, bring those four hand drums over here…”

  Heeding her command, Tsumaki moved like a shadow and arranged the four drums before the widow and I, after which he sat politely a short distance away.

  The widow wordlessly looked across all four drums, at last focusing her attention on one of them––but as I watched, the color quickly drained from her cheeks, and even her lips seemed to turn pale.

  Tsumaki and I held our breath, eyes open wide.

  A subtle, but unspeakably horrific presence filled the room.

  Just as I saw a faint shudder run through the widow’s shoulders, the next moment she was wiping her eyes with the silk handkerchief held in one hand.

  I was taken aghast; Tsumaki blinked three or four times, seemingly surprised himself. After sobbing quietly for two or three minutes without anyone in the room moving, the widow’s disheveled eyelashes and eyebrows appeared behind her handkerchief. Then she coughed once softly and spoke with a frail…yet dignified voice.

  “I have long waited for this day. I beg you to sever the fate that ties me to this hand drum.”

  “The fate that ties you…" I mumbled under my breath.

  “What does that…”

  “If I were to speak only a few words about my past, you would understand.”

  “Your past…”

  “Yes…but I will not so readily speak on this matter. I realize I am being overbearing, but this shameful secret is more important than my life itself. That’s why, unless you can select The Spirit Drum from within these four drums and produce the proper sound as foretold by the legend…I’m terribly sorry, but I must request this of you…”

  The widow’s words were pregnant with a deep-rooted…though gentle power, which only a woman can possess. An anxious, deep silence fell upon us.

  As if under the control of an unseen force, I bowed politely, slid off my cushion, and removed my coat. I then took hold of the hand drum before me with a gold-lacquered sakura motif, ignoring the gaze of the widow whose lips had begun to tremble in astonishment. Finally, I pulled the drum close to my body, bracing like a samurai facing an opponent with sword drawn.

  As I touched my finger to the drum head of The Spirit Drum, the combination of a hint of a solemn spring evening together with a warmth that permeated the room produced a soft sensation, like the skin of a virgin. I focused my energies and exhaled onto the front and back drum heads, then slowly put the drum to my shoulder and began to play…using all my remaining heart and soul…

  Initially there was a gloomy, muted sound––akin to the cry of an owl in a dark forest near a temple: no joy, no sadness, only a quiet, lonely thuh….thuh… thuh….

  But as I played, the drum grew accustomed to my fingers, and the sound progressively became more serene. I lowered my gaze, held my breath, and listened earnestly for something hidden deep in the sound.

  Somewhere deep inside of the thuh sound I could hear a lingering tone…

  I felt the pores all over my body constrict.

  Indeed, my ancestor Kuno Otomaru was an expert drum maker. But when creating this drum, he had not realized that there were more feelings embedded than he had ever imagined.

  ”Into this drum,” Kuno had said. “I will imbue only my feelings of heartbreak and of being a living corpse. Its tone will express only my utter emptiness. There will not be even the slightest hint of resentment…”

  But Kuno had been mistaken.

  Hidden within the desolate sound that Kuno had granted this drum, made to match his feelings exactly…inside the powerlessness, the darkness, was an echo of eternal resentment. The drum was filled with an unrelenting sadness of the likes that could never be extinguished by human power. Perhaps even Kuno himself had not realized this. The sorrow of a spirit descending to the lowest level of hell, struggling to become free, yet cannot…the voice of a soul wandering all corners of the countless hells, trying to surface, to no avail…If this is not the cursed voice of the heartbroken, what is it? If this is not the resonance of Kuno’s regret, what is it?

  One day, one hundred years ago, Ayahime played this drum and heard this sound. She alone felt the curse buried very, very deep within Kuno’s heart––not visible to the eyes nor easily heard by the ears–––infecting her own heart with an unspeakably intense resentment. She must surely have been reminded over and over that death was the only escape from this curse.

  …And now, one hundred years later…

  …A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. My body lost all sensation of the warmth of the room. A chill ran down my back as the strength drained from my arms and legs, and I nearly dropped the drum. My vision dimmed and I managed to place the drum feebly on my lap. With my trembling hand I grasped my handkerchief and wiped the sweat on my forehead.

  Tsumaki hastily helped me put on my coat. Lady Tsuruhara removed a small bottle of liquor from the cupboard and, with a trembling hand, handed me a glass. After having me gulp down a glassful of the fiery alcohol, she offered me another.

  I gestured with my hand to decline as I exhaled a long breath that burned my throat.

  “Are you feeling all right?” she said, examining my face. Tsumaki’s face also showed concern. I grinned, jiggling my shoulders as I tied the cord on my coat. All the while, I could feel the unfamiliar alcohol quickly entering my bloodstream…

  “Oh my…you were really as white as snow…although the color has returned considerably now…" Lady Tsuruhara said, fear in her voice. Tsumaki breathed a sigh of relief.

  “But oh dear…what a terribly unusual sound that was! And what amazing skill you possess…it made my hair stand on end!”

  Voice trembling with emotion, Lady Tsuruhara stood up and put away the liquor bottle, then returned to her seat. But a moment later, as if remembering something, she glanced at me before withdrawing a step and bowing, both hands on the tatami mat.

  “I very much appreciate what you have done. Thanks to you, I’ve been able to hear the true sound of this drum for the very first time. Great sir, there is no doubt you have been blessed with the lineage of a master. After hearing this, I can no longer keep my secret from you. In truth, it is I who is…"

  She paused, burying her head even deeper into her hands.

  “It is I who is…the bearer of…the Imaoji lineage.”

  I gasped and turned around to look at Tsumaki. But, showing no sign of whether he knew or not, he only stared motionlessly at the widow’s bundle of glossy, youthful hair. The widow continued, her head still buried in her hands.

  “Telling you all of this is terribly embarrassing, but after the Meiji Restoration my family was brought to ruin, and I, an only child, was about to be sold to a certain unseemly profession in Osaka, when the man who would become my husband rescued me. Needless to say, I knew that this drum was…”

  She gradually lifted her head, shifting her gaze from the drum to Tsumaki and I. The widow continued, countenance dark and voice to match.

  “…although I’ve known since long ago that the drum was in this house, I never imagined that…cursed by this drum, I would lead such a lonely existence…and end up with such a strange fate…"

  “That’s enough,” I cut her off, unable to suppress my emotions.

  “It all makes sense now. Now please raise your head. Basically, the three of us have been cursed by this drum. We’ve gathered together here because of this curse. But this fate ends today. If you will permit me to, I will smash this drum to pieces and expunge fro
m this world our ancestor’s sin and curse. And so, let us enter a world of radiance, free from that dark legend!”

  “Well, I would be delighted to,” said the widow, suddenly raising her tear-drenched face and grasping my hand, squeezing it tightly. That moment I felt the blood coursing through my entire body with a newfound intensity. She spoke again, hands gripping me with great force.

  “My, what inspiring words those are! Those are the very words I have been waiting to hear. Now I would like to present you with a trifling gift to celebrate parting with this drum…”

  “Oh…is that…” I tried to stand up. But the widow’s hands held me fast.

  “No…you must not…"

  “But there’s nothing wrong with…”

  “No…if we don’t do this now, there will never be time later…Well then…Hey you, bring me that, quickly…” she said, turning back to look at Tsumaki.

  Tsumaki burst out of the room as if he had been forcefully ejected.

  Watching him leave, the widow finally released my hand and smiled.

  I covered my face with my hands, feeling the alcohol from moments ago coursing through my veins.

  My head hurts…I thought to myself as I closed my eyes and pulled down the pajama top over my head. The unfamiliar silk texture was accompanied by a disturbingly pleasant fragrance that tickled my nose.

  I was completely awake. But before standing up I racked my aching head to try and remember things. What happened after that?

  A vision of a delicious meal appeared before my eyes. Composed completely of rare items, it was the pinnacle of extravagance. Bowls and a four-legged tray were adorned by paulownia crests.

  Soon after, a vision of Lady Tsuruhara’s cheerful face appeared.

  “This is to celebrate our parting from The Spirit Drum,” she said, and I remembered her unreasonable offer of a drink.

  “Just one more drink…"

  Bearing a smile of pearly white teeth, there was something alluring in the widow’s eyes…But when I insisted I would not drink anymore, I suddenly remembered she had just given me a cold, delicious medicine to sober me up.

  My memories after that point were completely gone. Except that, for some odd reason, the afterimage of the light’s flickering carbon filament that I’d gazed at from the floor was etched clearly in my mind.

  I had collapsed, drunk, and was now laying down somewhere in the Tsuruhara residence.

  “Dammit.” I opened my eyes and stuck my head through the neck of the pajama top.

  This must be the widow’s room from earlier. The only difference was the pink-colored covers over the lights. I listened carefully but all was quiet, without the slightest sound.

  Suddenly I heard the high-pitched giggle of a woman close by. Surprised, I tried to get up, but two pale hands appeared and gently held me immobile. At the same time Lady Tsuruhara’s red-tinged face peered down from above, bearing a wide grin. Gazing at me with sweetly seductive eyes, she spoke, breath smelling faintly of alcohol.

  “Don’t you try to get away, my darling. It’s a little late for that…just surrender yourself and lay down for me,” she said and broke into another fit of giggling.

  Feeling a sharp pain like an ice pick digging into my body, I lowered my head back onto the pillow. I exhaled, unable to bear the terrible agony that made thought impossible.

  There was a clink. The widow was apparently drinking something next to me on the bed, and let out a quiet belch. Then she began speaking in a soft voice.

  “I’ve finally caught you,” she giggled again. “You are truly a lovely boy. I’ve totally fallen for you, darling.” The giggling continued.

  I jumped up, forgetting all about my aching head. Looking down, I saw I was wearing nothing but my long kimono undergarment with an intricate flower pattern, drenched with sweat.

  Wearing a disheveled, colorfully dyed undergarment, the widow sat next to the mattress with her legs folded out to one side. Before me was a large, silver tray containing two or three bottles of liquor that she drank with a fragile-looking glass. After realizing I was awake she cast me a seductive look with inebriated eyes and offered me an empty glass. I brushed it aside.

  “Oh my…you can’t drink? What a coward,” she giggled. “But this just won’t do, darling. Because no matter how much you struggle, it’s simply inexcusable. Your only choice is to leave Tokyo with me, escape to somewhere far away and start a family…right now…this very moment.”

  “Huh…”

  The widow burst out laughing again, this time with increased intensity. I felt a dizzy spell coming on, and my head fell back onto the pillow.

  “You know what?” Her laughter finally ceased. Apparently the widow was sitting next to me again. She continued with a calm, smooth voice.

  “Mr. Otomaru. You must calm down and pay attention because our lives are on the line. Are you listening? You see…when I saw you around town I knew immediately that you were the one. After all, it was me who picked up the slip of paper you had dropped with the young master’s name written on it. Then I questioned Tsumaki and made him confess that he had tried to hide having candies with you. He also told me about your request. That’s why I made him write that letter. But by that time I had already settled on my plans for tonight. Are you following me?”

  “Plans for tonight…” I asked, suddenly sitting upright. But, struck by the widow’s burning beauty and fiery passion, I lost my nerve.

  “My decision was easy. I had tired of Tsumaki. I had tired of that lifeless shadow of a man. I abhor men like that who are nothing but walking corpses…”

  As she spoke, the widow poured a glassful from a golden brown bottle of alcohol and drank half of it down in a single gulp. Licking bright red lips, she continued.

  “But you are an innocent, fresh boy. That’s why I fell in love with you. I’ve grown tired of that weak man who is always at my beck and call. Inspired by the sound of that drum, I grew bored of having that man as my plaything. I have been searching for someone who doesn’t only stare at my face, but tries to understand my feelings. That’s when I met you. I thought that seeing you on the way back from visiting my ex-husband’s grave was some sort of fate. My only future is spending my life sheltered by your pure love, darling.”

  As she spoke, the widow raised both hands and adjusted her hair. I shrank back, like a spider caught by a human.

  “That’s why for the last few days I have been selling all my possessions, getting as much cash as possible, and putting it in a leather bag in the closet. I will give it all to you––and I am even prepared for the possibility that I die tomorrow. That is how pure my feelings are for you…However, there is one thing I will leave behind: that so-called ‘Spirit Drum’…I’ll leave that as a toy for poor Tsumaki…he can embrace it, pretending it’s me, and go wherever he likes.”

  I covered my face with my hands.

  “It’s almost three o’clock. My driver should be here at four. Tsumaki went to bed after midnight so he shouldn’t wake up any time soon.”

  Without removing my hands I shook my head forcefully back and forth.

  “My, my…you haven’t made up your mind, have you?” the widow said, gradually losing control of her voice to anger.

  “How impolite of you, Mr. Otomaru. I see you have not yet surrendered to me. You clearly don’t understand what type of woman I am…Well then…”

  I sensed the widow immediately stand up. When I looked up in surprise, before my eyes was a terrible sight of the likes of which I had never seen before: the slovenly hem of her undergarment, the partially undone under-sash, the quivering whip of black leather…I froze like a rock, shocked, my hands covering my back.

  Brushing the loose hair at her temple aside with a chalky hand, the widow bit her lip and looked down sternly at me. That earthly beauty…those awe-inspiring eyes, glowing with a mysterious passion…I gazed up at her face without blinking.

  She spoke again, straining to get each word out.

  “No
w you listen very carefully, all right? My ex-husband did not accept my sincere feelings, so I tortured and killed him with this whip. The same goes for Tsumaki. Thanks to this whip, he became an obedient, lifeless man. So what of you? Are you not the grandchild of Kuno, who made The Spirit Drum, cursing and killing my ancestor Ayahime? As atonement for that sin, are you not bound to satisfy me? You must believe that coming here to see this drum was caused by the power of an irreversible fate. Am I right? Or do you disagree? Would you like to have this whip show you my true power…and your rightful punishment?”

  My breathing began to quicken by degrees. Looking up at Lady Tsuruhara, now undoubtedly possessed by the spirit of Ayahime, I panted heavily…keenly feeling the horror of retribution for a sin committed by my ancestor a century ago.

  “So are you with me…or not?” questioned the widow, biting her lip as if to chew it right off. A pale glow flickered across her face, like a will-o’-the-wisp. Held in her supple hand, the supple black whip undulated.

  “Oh…it’s all my fault,” I said, once more covering my face with my hands.

  The horse whip fell onto the tatami mat with a thud.

  There was the sound of glass breaking, and a cold hand suddenly brushed aside my hands…the next moment, a passionate kiss struck me, eyes still closed, like a sudden rainstorm. The stink of alcohol on her breath; the scent of a woman; the scent of facial powder; the scent of hair; the scent of perfume––it all assaulted me with an unfathomably deep sorrow.

  “Forgive me…please…forgive me…” I contorted my body and tried to stand.

  “My Lady…My Lady, My Lady!” came Tsumaki’s voice from the hallway. At the same time the flash of a flame flickered and disappeared, visible through the paper sliding door just as Lady Tsuruhara and I turned around to look.

  “Fire…it’s a fire!” The sound of scuffling accompanied Tsumaki’s despairing voice.

  Apparently back in her right mind the widow got up, crossed the bed, and quickly slid open the door. Standing in the midst of the darkness was Tsumaki, blocking her way in an informal cotton kimono, hair unkempt.