Parasite Eve (21 page)

    “Are you okay?”

    A voice from afar. Someone
was trying to lift her. Kiyomi saw the person’s face just before dizziness
overwhelmed her. Ah, it’s him...

    At the same time, she heard a
different voice from deep inside her heart.

    A massive convulsion racked
her entire body. She buried her face in the stranger’s arm, entrusting her
shivering body to him. Kiyomi lost consciousness before she could ask:

    Who...

12

    Mariko had been up and about
for a week now. Her body was weary from sleeping so much and her legs were a
bit wobbly. Still, it was better than having to endure being bedridden any
longer.

    From her bed, she had seen
only white walls and the machinery that surrounded her, but now she could walk
over to the windows and gaze out into the courtyard. Leaves and branches were
vibrant with lush green. She looked upon them intently, almost breaking a sweat
imagining the heat that awaited her outside.

    She had only recently been
given more freedom in where she could go. Whereas before she had to remain in
her room, she could now wander through the ward. And starting tomorrow, she
would be able to go to the hospital store, and even take showers. Doctor
Yoshizumi and the nurses were all exceedingly glad that her recovery was going
so smoothly, but she was indifferent to what she thought to be a false play of
emotions. Everyone was trying so desperately to understand what she was going
through. Being constantly surrounded by so much anxiety made her even more
depressed.

    Her father came to visit her
at night.

    He was in his usual suit and
tie.
Isn’t he hot in those clothes?
she wondered. They probably had good
air-conditioning at work. With a feeble smile, he raised a hand to her in
greeting.

    “How are you feeling?”

    Always that line. Always
asking something he could tell just by a single look. Mariko sighed.

    “Can I get you anything? I
can get you a book or something if you want.”

    She knew he was forcing his
smile. She was getting annoyed.

    “Can I have some money then?”

    “What did you say?”

    Her father was somewhat taken
aback by her sudden request, as it was the most substantial thing she had said
to him in weeks.

    “Money. They said I can go to
the hospital store tomorrow. I’ll just buy something myself.”

    Her father grew quiet and,
for a long while, neither said anything.

    At last, a humming sound
broke the silence, a car in the distance or noise from the ventilation. When it
ended, Anzai sighed.

    “Mariko,” he said. “Why are
you being so stubborn? Tell me. Please?”

    Silence.

    “You were so happy the first
time, weren’t you? I thought you were glad to be out of the hospital and back
in school. Why are you so unhappy this time? Do you just hate transplants? Did
you like dialysis better? What is it? Say something.”

    Silence.

    “Mariko...”

    She wondered how much longer
she could keep her mouth shut. Anzai was at a loss for words and gave up. They
heard the hum again.

    Mariko simply did not
understand anymore. Why had her father wanted to give her a kidney so badly?

    “...Dad?”

    Her father looked up.

    “Dad, did you really want to
give me your kidney?”

    “What are you saying?”

    He was clearly upset, but she
could not take it back now.

    She glared at him. It was her
father this time who averted his eyes.

    “You really didn’t mind doing
that? Weren’t you just annoyed that I was sick? If mom were still alive, wouldn’t
you have wanted her to give up her kidney instead? On top of that, it was my
fault it f—”

    “Stop it!”

    The sound of a slap shot
through the air.

    Slowly, but surely, her cheek
began to swell with pain. For a good while, Mariko could not process what had
happened.

    When she looked at her
father, he was shaking, looking at the floor. Hidden as it was in shadow, she
could not see his face very well, but he seemed to be choking down some harsh
words.

    After some time, he left, and
Mariko stared for a long time up at the dark ceiling. Occasionally, the humming
noise came faintly to her ears. Listening to it, she thought it sounded like
magma shifting deep within the earth.

    “Mariko has come back to us
from the hospital today,” her homeroom teacher had announced her return, as
Mariko stood in front of the whole class.

    All eyes in the room were
locked upon her. The kids in the front row were staring, and the boys in the
back were craning their necks just to get a better view.

    “Mariko here has just been
through transplant surgery. She received a kidney from her father. For a long
time, she has been unable to play any serious sports, but from now on I think
she will be joining you for lunch and after-school activities. I want you all
to get her filled in on what she missed while she was in the hospital, and to
offer your help whenever she needs it.”

    Mariko felt slightly
embarrassed and kept her head down. But in her heart, she was elated to be
back. She could finally be with her friends again.

    Something flickered in the
corner of her eye. Mariko turned to see a friend grinning, flashing a small
peace sign at her and mouthing the syllables:

    “Con-grats!”

    Mariko flashed back the sign,
briefly so the teacher wouldn’t notice.

    School was just like always
and her peers treated her no differently than before. Her classes had gone a
little further ahead since the last time she was there. She was a bit lost in
math and science at first, but her friends drilled her on the new material and
helped get her back up to speed. Before long, Mariko’s life was back to the way
it used to be before dialysis. She was glad to be on an even footing again with
everyone else.

    She was held back only from
P.E. It had been decided that there was no need to rush her back into it. They’d
wait and see for a while.

    At the time, they were practicing
swimming in gym class. Mariko sat at the pool’s edge to admire everyone’s
vigor, which sometimes sent water splashing playfully in her direction.

    As she watched her classmates
take turns practicing their crawl strokes, Mariko felt a dull pain in her lower
abdomen. When she pressed her hand gently upon it, it felt like she had a tumor
inside of her.

    The operation scar was
clearly visible on her side. Her tendons had stiffened around the sutures and
little bumps were raised up along the scar. It twisted around like a centipede
whenever she turned her waist. She did not much care for this little memento,
since it was a permanent reminder that her father’s kidney lay embedded just
beneath it. Some time had passed since the transplant, but she still felt a
certain incompatibility. Usually it did not bother her so much, but during gym,
when she watched the swimmers’ bodies with their unblemished sides, she was
soberly reminded of her own imperfection. Once she was conscious of it, a
series of traumatic hospital memories always came back to her against all will.

    One time, she felt the kidney
moving during swim practice, and the sensation refused to go away even after
the class had ended. She wondered,
Why does it hurt so much?

    Maybe it’s because my dad’s
kidney doesn’t belong in me?

    The thought gave her the
chills.    

    What if I get sick again?
What if this kidney fails, too? I’ll probably have to go back on dialysis, and
I won’t be free like this ever again.

    She did not have to think of
these things. There was no reason for any of it to happen. Every time she fell
into these reveries, her pessimism snowballed. Her father had already given her
one kidney. If this one failed, she could not get another one.

    Or that was what she’d thought.

    Her turn for a donated organ
would not come anytime soon, Doctor Yoshizumi had told her. She would have to
wait a long time before a donor of her type would appear. That was why they’d
registered her right away. She couldn’t tell her father she didn’t want a
second transplant, he’d yell at her. That was the only reason why she let them
go through the motions, as far as she was concerned.

    Mariko couldn’t decide if she
wanted another transplant. She tried her best not to think about it. When, during
her resumed dialysis sessions, she imagined undergoing another transplant
operation, she felt a painful tightening in her chest. She would close her eyes
and clench her teeth: all the tasty dishes she’d been able to eat again, all
the fun she’d been able to have. The thoughts came pouring to her and she didn’t
know what to think anymore. She could only wonder why she’d done what she’d
done.

   
When had it all begun?
Mariko searched her memories.
When?

    Splashing water. It sounded
familiar. Swimming class, she wondered? No, that wasn’t it. Voices echoed from
memory, growing louder. They began as a stirring, then changed into cheers.
Again, splashing water. There was yelling, which grew louder and louder,
threatening to burst her ear drums.

    In a flash, the scene folded
out before her.

    There was a bright blue sky.
A single cloud floated across it, as if reflected upon water.

    The cheering enveloped her.
She stood up along with everyone else and gave her own cry of encouragement.
The sound of splashing water threaded itself through all the shouting and into
her ears. Yes, that was it. The day of the intramural swimming tournament.

    After the individual events
were done, it came time for the relay race. Three boys and three girls from every
sixth-grade class in a 2 5-meter relay. Not only was it the last tournament of
grade school, but the last race as well. This raised the excitement to a
fevered pitch.

    By the time the fourth
swimmer jumped into the pool, Mariko’s class was in second place. The leading
class was five meters ahead, but there was still enough time to turn things
around. Everyone was swimming their best that day. Mariko and her classmates
gripped the pool’s edge, leaning over as they cheered their team on, forgetting
that they were getting drenched.

    The fourth swimmer in Mariko’s
class touched the wall just a few seconds short of the first place team. Not a
moment later, a huge amount of water sprayed up into the air as the fifth
swimmer jumped into the pool.

    She was the last girl on the
team. After staying underwater for five meters, she rose back up to the
surface. When she was visible again, there were only three meters between her
and first place.

    “Let’s go!” shouted Mariko in
unison with the friend next to her.

    But the distance between them
didn’t shrink any farther as the two maintained their interval for twenty
meters. The anchors for each class were preparing for the change-off. Mariko’s
friend nudged her with an elbow.

    “Hey look, Mariko. Aoyama is
anchor for Class 1.”

    Mariko did a double take.

    It was him, all right.
Sporting a dark tan, perhaps from practicing at the pool on Sundays too, he was
standing on the diving board, shouting and beckoning his teammate on as she
swam towards him. That was when Mariko’s kidney began to ache. She frowned and
pressed a hand to her side. She’d all but forgotten about her transplant until
she’d seen Aoyama’s suntanned figure just now. Her heart was racing. She tried
to shake off the pain, raised her voice along with the crowd, then looked to
see which place Class 1 was in. She started. Third place.

    Two big splashes filled the
air, one right after the other, as anchors from the first place team and Mariko’s
team plunged in. The cheering became even more frantic.

    “Just a little more!” shouted
Aoyama. He was leaning out over the end of the diving board, only one or two
meters remaining before his teammate would touch the edge of the pool.

    The first place swimmer and
Mariko’s classmate surfaced. They both took a breath and made their first
stroke at the very same moment, with the same three meters still separating
them.

    Mariko could not take her
eyes off Aoyama. She knew that cheering for her class was more important right
now, but all she could do was to stare at him as he called out from the diving
board.

    His teammate touched.

    A moment later, Aoyama jumped
in, flying farther into the air than Mariko had ever seen anyone do before. He
painted a beautiful line above the pool, and from his fingertips to his feet,
cut into the water with the utmost precision.