The Complete Ring Trilogy: Ring, Spiral, Loop. Koji Suzuki
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know how to handle the situation. She just waited, dumbly, for Nagao to instruct her. Nagao somehow pulled himself together a little and thought about what to do next. Thinking that above all, he couldn’t let this nosy woman find out about what had happened, he assumed a calm expression.
“Nurse Fujimura, you can take your break now. Run along now and get something to eat.”
“But, doctor …”
“Just do as I say. There’s no need to worry about me.”
First two strange men come in and whisper something in the doctor’s ear, and the next thing she knows the doctor is collapsing. She didn’t know what to make of all this, and so she just stood there for a few moments. Finally, the doctor shouted, “Go, now!” She practically flew out the front door.
“Now, then. Let’s hear what you have to say for yourself.” Ryuji went into the examination room. Nagao followed after, looking like a patient who’s just been informed he has cancer.
“I’ll warn you before we start, you mustn’t lie to us. I and this gentleman here know everything—we’ve seen it with our very eyes.” Ryuji pointed first to Asakawa and then to his own eyes.
“What the …?” Seen it? Impossible. The bushes were too thick. There was nobody else around. Not to mention, these two are too young. They would have only been …
“I understand why you might be reluctant to believe me. But we both know your face—all too well.” Suddenly Ryuji’s tone changed. “Why don’t I tell you one of your distinguishing features? You’ve still got a scar on your right shoulder, haven’t you?”
Nagao’s eyes grew wide with astonishment, and his jaw started to quiver. After a pregnant pause, Ryuji said, “Now, shall I tell you why you have that scar on your shoulder?” Ryuji leaned over and stretched his neck until his lips were almost touching Nagao’s shoulder. “Sadako Yamamura bit you, didn’t she? Just like this.” Ryuji opened his mouth and pretended to bite through the white cloth. Nagao’s trembling grew worse, and he desperately tried to say something, but his mouth wouldn’t work. He couldn’t form words.
“I think you get my point. Now, we’re not going to repeat anything you tell us. We promise. All we want to know is everything that happened to Sadako.”
Not that he was in any condition to think at all, but Nagao didn’t think Ryuji’s words quite added up. If they’d already seen everything, why did they need to hear anything from the doctor’s mouth? But wait, the whole idea that they saw anything is silly. They couldn’t have seen anything. They probably weren’t even born yet. So what’s going on here? What do they think they’ve seen? The more he thought about it the less sense it made, until his head felt like it was ready to burst.
“Heh, heh, heh.” Ryuji chuckled and looked at Asakawa. The man’s eyes said it all. Frighten him like this and he’ll come clean. He’ll tell us anything.
And indeed, Nagao began to talk. He himself was puzzled as to why he remembered everything so clearly. And as he spoke, every sensory organ in his body began to recall the excitement of that day. The passion, the heat, the touch, the glossy shine of her skin, the song of the locusts, the mingled smells of sweat and grass, and the old well …
“I don’t even know what caused it. Maybe the fever and headache robbed me of my ordinary good judgment. Those were the early symptoms of smallpox—which meant I had already passed through the incubation period. But I didn’t dream that I had caught the disease myself. Fortunately, I managed not to infect anyone else in the sanatorium. To this day I’m haunted by the thought of what would have happened if the tuberculosis patients had been attacked by smallpox as well.
“The day was a hot one. I’d been examining the tomograms of a newly-admitted patient, and I had found a hole the size of a one-yen coin in one of his lungs. I’d told him to resign himself to spending a year with us, and then I’d given him a copy of the diagnosis to give his company. Then I couldn’t take it anymore—I just had to get outside. But even breathing the fresh mountain air didn’t make the pain in my head go away. So I went down the stone steps beside the ward, thinking to take shelter in the shade of the garden. There I noticed a young woman leaning against a tree trunk, gazing at the world down below. She wasn’t one of our patients. She was the daughter of a patient who’d been there long before I arrived, a man named Heihachiro Ikuma, a former assistant professor at Taido University. Her name was Sadako Yamamura. I remember the name well: her family name was different from her father’s. For about a month she had been making frequent visits to the sanatorium, but she didn’t spend much time with her father. Nor would she ask the doctors much about his condition. All I could assume was that she was there to enjoy the alpine scenery. I sat down next to her and smiled at her, asking her how her father was doing. But she didn’t look like she even wanted to know much about his illness. On the other hand, it was clear that she knew he didn’t have much longer. I could tell by the way she spoke. She knew the day her father was going to die, with more certainty than any doctor’s educated guess.
“Sitting there beside her like that, talking to her about her life and her family, I suddenly became aware that my headache, so unbearable a little while ago, had retreated. In its place appeared a fever accompanied by an odd feeling of excitement. I felt vitality well up within me, as if the temperature of my blood had been raised. I gazed at her face. I felt what I always felt, a sense of wonder that a woman with such perfect features should exist in the world. I’m not exactly sure what defines beauty, but I know that Dr Tanaka, who was twenty years older than me, used to say the same thing. That he’d never seen anyone more beautiful than Sadako Yamamura. My breathing was choked with fever, but somehow I controlled it enough to softly put a hand on her shoulder and say to her, ‘Let’s go somewhere cooler to talk, in the shade.’
“She suspected nothing. She nodded once and started to get to her feet. And as she stood up, and bent over, I saw—down the front of her white blouse—her perfectly-formed little breasts. They were so white that my whole mind was suddenly dyed milky white, and it was as if my reason was taken from me in the shock.
“She paid no attention to my agitation, but just brushed the dust from her long skirt. Her gestures seemed so innocent and adorable.
“We strolled on and on through the lush forest, surrounded by the droning of the cicadas. I hadn’t decided on any particular destination, but my feet kept heading in a certain direction. Sweat ran down my back. I took off my shirt, leaving only my undershirt. We followed an animal track until it opened up onto the side of a valley where there stood a dilapidated old house. It had probably been at least ten years since anyone had lived there. The walls were rotting and the roof looked like it could collapse at any moment. There was a well on the other side of the house, and when she saw it she ran toward it, saying, ‘Oh, I’m so thirsty.’ She bent over to look in. Even from the outside it was obvious that the well wasn’t used anymore. I ran to the well, too. But not to look inside. What I wanted to see was Sadako’s chest as she bent over again. I placed both hands on the lip of the well and got a close look. I could feel cool, damp air rising from the dark depths of the earth to caress my face, but it couldn’t take away the burning urge I felt. I didn’t know where the urge came from. I think now that the smallpox fever had taken away my mechanism of control. I swear to you, I had never experienced such sensual temptation before in my life.
“I found myself reaching out to touch that gentle swelling. She looked up in shock. Something snapped inside me. My memories of what happened next are hazy. All I can recall are fragmentary scenes. I found myself pressing Sadako to the ground. I pulled her blouse up over her breasts, and then … My memory skips to her resisting, violently, and then biting my shoulder; it was the intense pain that brought me to my senses. I saw the blood flowing from my shoulder drip onto her face. Blood dripped into her eyes, and she shook her head in revulsion. I adjusted my body to that rhythmic movement. What did my face look like then? What did she see when she looked at me? The face of a beast, I’m sure. That’s what I was thinking as I finished.
“When it was over, she fixed me with an implacable gaze. Still lying on her back, she raised her