Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 57: Japan Branch (5)

Dragon Raja 3

Akira had learned her name from her backpack. On her Hello Kitty backpack hung a handmade cat doll, and in an inconspicuous corner, she had embroidered the characters for “Maru.” Anyone observant could have noticed it.

“Are you traveling alone too, Akira-san?” Maru asked.

“Yes, I’m going to Otaru.”

“What a coincidence! I’m also going to Otaru!”

This conversation was like something out of an 80s TV drama, and Akira was at a loss for words. Recently, he’d been using his gaze to instantly conquer one woman after another, which made him feel invincible with women. But facing this high school girl, he realized he wasn’t good at flirting at all—he was downright awkward. “What a coincidence, I’m also going to Otaru!” Should he respond like an eager high schooler, “That’s great, let’s travel together”? Or like a seasoned, poetic man: “The snowy scenery in Otaru is beautiful, but we are late in coming”? Or like a lecherous old man: “Little girl, you’re so pretty—aren’t you afraid of running into bad guys traveling alone?”

Every option felt terrible, each one making him think of a cliché TV drama. It was only then that Akira remembered that he’d hardly spoken to girls in his life. His only way of understanding the outside world was watching TV dramas, sitting in that small, single room late into the night, staring blankly at the screen.

“Are you a university student? I’m in my third year of high school. Can I call you senpai?” Maru said.

“Sure.” Akira replied dryly.

He was starting to lose patience. This high school girl with the cat hairpin seemed somewhat out of touch with reality. In Tokyo, girls her age had been involved in compensated dating for years!

“Am I bothering you, senpai…? I’m really sorry. I’ll just go back to my seat.” Maru uneasily stood up and bowed.

“No, no… it’s not you.” Akira said helplessly.

This was the first time he’d had trouble with his hunting process. The prey had already walked into his trap, yet was about to leave. Something felt wrong.

“Why are you going to Otaru?” Akira asked, trying to hold Maru back with this question.

“I’m going to bury Koneko.”

“Koneko?”

“Koneko was my cat.” Maru took out an exquisite ceramic urn from her backpack. It was handmade, painted with a cartoon of Maru and a little black cat.

Akira let out a sigh of relief. Now he was sure Maru wasn’t an enforcer. Even if there were high school-aged girls among the enforcers, and no matter how good they were at disguises, there was no way anyone could have quickly crafted a ceramic cat urn and carried it along just to put on a play about “going to Hokkaido to bury a cat.”

“Tell me Koneko’s story,” Akira said.

“Koneko and I…” Maru thought seriously for a moment. “It starts from when I was very young… I had autism as a child. That’s my secret, so please don’t tell anyone, senpai.”

Akira understood the issue. Maru’s speech was clearly stiff, a residual effect of autism. Children with autism seemed to be locked in a space that only they inhabited, where they spoke only with themselves, so their mental age often stayed frozen in childhood. Many children with autism learn to speak by watching TV, which makes their speech sound stiff, like it came from a second-rate script. The girl sitting across from him looked like she was eighteen, an almost-blooming flower, but mentally, she might still be just a middle schooler.

In a way, they were alike… Akira had noticed Maru as soon as he got on the train. She was sitting by the window, staring blankly outside. The train hadn’t even started moving, and Maru had just sat there, staring at the platform, watching people come and go. Now, Akira understood what that feeling was. It was the longing gaze of someone living in a lonely world, watching life pass by, feeling warmth just by seeing the flow of people. No wonder this seemingly blossoming girl had a hint of coldness, like snow. She had once lived in a world of complete solitude, felt the coldest thing in the world, and so even under the brightest sun, she carried a slight chill.

“I had autism since I can remember. I didn’t dare speak to anyone, not even to my mom or dad. I felt terrified of everything I saw and heard, and the only way I felt less afraid was to curl up and cover my ears. I couldn’t speak until I was five…”

“Did your parents take you to see a doctor?” Akira finally managed to continue the conversation with Maru.

“They argued every day, their voices growing hoarse, each of them shouting that they couldn’t live together anymore… I was terrified. Covering my ears didn’t help because their voices were too loud. When I was the most scared, I would run into the bathroom, fill the sink with water, and stick my head in.” Maru pinched her pretty nose and mimicked holding her breath. “That way, their shouting would become muffled, like distant thunder, and I wouldn’t feel as scared.”

“All parents argue when we’re kids. They fight, but then they make up,” Akira said, realizing that his attempt at comforting her was a bit dismissive. The saying “they fight at the head of the bed but make up at the foot” was the kind of phrase you’d hear middle-aged men say on TV.

He had never heard his parents argue. Before he was five, his parents were respectful to each other; their home was filled with laughter. His mother played the piano, his father was an excellent cook. While his mother played the piano, his father would be in the kitchen cooking, and Akira would crawl around in his pile of toys. On the day of the bloodline monitoring, he was taken away. He didn’t know if his parents, like Maru’s, had ever blamed each other for passing on the defective genes to him. He also didn’t know if they still played the piano and cooked together. Maybe they argued and then made up too? Maybe they already had a new, healthy child. Akira suddenly felt annoyed.

“And then one day, everything at home got quiet. It was because my parents got divorced, and I was given to my father. I never saw my mom again after that…” Maru lowered her head. “My father was a carpenter, always working in the factory making furniture. I was always home alone. One day, my father suddenly said he was going to bring a friend over to keep me company. I was so scared I hid under the blanket because I thought my father was going to marry someone else. But what my father brought out was a tiny kitten, barely as big as my hand. I ended up naming it Koneko. It was snowing that day when Koneko came to us, and it was shivering from the cold. It meowed once and then tried to crawl up my pajama sleeve.”

Akira stared at Maru’s neckline, imagining the curves of her body beneath. Upon closer look, Maru had a surprisingly ample chest, which stood out against her slender waist. His gaze moved down to her long, slender legs, lingering at every intimate place. He was losing control. In his eyes, Maru’s school uniform was gradually becoming transparent, and her body looked so beautiful in the sunlight. He imagined a water droplet sliding down her skin, tracing a perfect curve.

“Because I had autism, my parents never took me anywhere except the hospital. That was the first time I saw real fur. I remember Koneko curling up inside my pajama sleeve. It was so warm and soft, meowing softly. It was like a mountain spirit speaking,” Maru said. “Though Koneko could only meow, every meow was different. I just couldn’t understand what it was saying, so I tried to learn to speak by mimicking Koneko.”

Series Navigation

<< Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 56: Japan Branch (4)Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 58: Japan Branch (6) >>