and look at the apartment building. She carried a bag containing their valuables and a change of clothes. Each time she shifted the bag from one hand to another, Ikuko would also switch sides so as to keep a firm grip on her mother’s empty hand.
Her behavior must have appeared very silly. Yet it was impossible to live even one more day in an apartment whose water supply was unusable. Tonight, if only for a single night, she wanted to sleep soundly. The water tank could be checked the next day. Convincing the super to have the tank examined, opening the lid, and looking in—these were things better done in the light of day.
The ground felt no more secure across the canal bridge than on the landfill. Yoshimi saw an approaching taxi with a vacancy light and hailed it. She helped Ikuko into the back seat and bent down to get in herself. As she did so, she caught a fleeting glimpse of the rooftop of the apartment building. There, dwarfed by the distance, loomed the flesh-colored water tank, high above the reclaimed ground. Was little Mitsuko still having fun splashing about in that sealed rectangular bath of hers? Whatever the case, Yoshimi wanted to sleep well. As she slid into the back seat, she gave the taxi driver the name of a hotel.
He had often considered leaving the teaching profession. He was fed up with it all, the same routine year in year out; he simply wasn’t getting anywhere in life. The urge to quit had been particularly strong this May. But then he had received his bonus payment and summer vacation beckoned, inducing him to think that teaching might not be so bad after all. He was prepared to give it a try for a little while longer. It had been the same the year before: he had been on the verge of quitting in May, only to reconsider, deciding in July to give it a go for a bit longer. Summer vacation was not only for the benefit of students; it also served as a perk for teachers who would otherwise seek employment elsewhere. He was absolutely certain that without summer vacation, he’d have given up this teaching lark years ago.
Kensuke Suehiro was going over all this in his mind as he walked down the corridor after his last lesson of the afternoon. He had entered the teaching profession eight or nine years ago right after graduating from one of Tokyo’s national universities. That university had formerly been a ‘normal school’ specializing in the training of teachers, which probably accounted for many of his classmates’ intention to pursue the vocation. As for Kensuke, he’d been swept along by the prevailing current and had found himself in the teaching profession before he knew it.
As he stacked notebooks on his desk in the staffroom, he noticed a handwritten memo: ‘There was a call for you from Mr Sasaki of Josei Junior High School.’
Just reading the words ‘Mr Sasaki’ aroused fond memories. Sasaki meant a great deal to Kensuke. He’d been Kensuke’s respected teacher and mentor. Sasaki had been the head of teachers in charge of seventh graders when Kensuke had been assigned to his first middle school post after graduation. That school was in Tokyo, and Sasaki, like Kensuke, taught science. Not only had Kensuke learned a great deal from him about natural science in general, but Sasaki had also supported and helped Kensuke in many ways, both privately and professionally. Sasaki had a distinctively original approach to teaching. Rather than stuffing the heads of his students with facts, he tried to draw out their latent capabilities by letting them experience natural phenomena for themselves. Some of these activities included taking his students on field trips to collect butterflies in the hilly marshlands or staying up all night with them to observe comets. It was when they ceased to be colleagues that Kensuke’s passion for teaching began to wane. Sasaki, along with his distinctive approach to teaching, had moved on to another school. This alone had been enough to sap Kensuke’s motivation. The transfer occurred five years ago, and for the past couple of years their relationship had amounted to no more than the customary exchange of New Year’s greeting cards. Nothing could have delighted Kensuke more than learning that Sasaki had called him.
Kensuke wasted no time in calling Josei Junior High School and asking for the headmaster. Sasaki had just assumed that post in the regular spring reshuffling of personnel. ‘This is Kensuke Suehiro. I’d like to…’ The moment Kensuke had given his name, the voice at the other end answered unceremoniously, ‘Hey, it’s me.’ Sasaki may have become a headmaster, but Kensuke was relieved that his old mentor had not changed his manner in the least.
‘Please excuse me for my long silence,’ Kensuke apologized to his mentor, bowing unconsciously though he was talking over the phone.
‘Sorry I called you during one of your lessons. It’d never have happened before, but I’ve lost my touch since I became headmaster. It was a lot more fun when I actually had classes to teach.’
This remark was no doubt sincere. Sasaki was the kind of teacher much more suited to be in the classroom than on the careerist ladder. Kensuke wished he could transfer to Josei so he could work under a headmaster like Sasaki. A boss like him would relieve a lot of the job’s stress.
‘Say, how would you feel about going to Battery No. 6?’ asked Sasaki point-blank, dispensing with pleasantries.
‘Battery No. 6? You mean…’
‘Yes, that Battery No. 6, the one under the Rainbow Bridge…the ghost island.’
Kensuke found himself unable to speak. Little had he imagined that Sasaki had called to invite him to an uninhabited artificial island in Tokyo Bay that had held a special significance for Kensuke for the past nine years.
‘How are we going to get there?’ Kensuke sounded puzzled.
‘Leave that to me.’
‘I think you’ll find that the island is off-limits.’
Sasaki lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘We’ll swim there in the dead of night so no one’s the wiser. Think your swimming’s up to it?’
The Tokyo Metropolitan Government had restricted access to Battery No. 6 as a means of conserving it as a cultural asset.
‘That’s hardly the kind of suggestion you’d expect to hear from a headmaster. After all, you’re a respected figure in the community.’
‘Respected figure!’ Sasaki laughed. ‘You know how to strike where it hurts. But, come to think of it, you never had much nerve did you? Did you really expect that a pillar of the community like me would secretly go ashore in violation of the law? I’m talking about an on-site survey, okay, an on-site survey.’
‘On-site survey…’
‘Yes, the Minato Ward authorities have asked me to head an on-site survey.’
Sasaki went on to explain what had happened. He had received a request from a special committee of the Ward Council to undertake a survey of conditions on Battery No. 6—the flora and fauna, the soil, and such. There was a note of pride in his voice as he described how it had all come about. It would have helped a lot and avoided much confusion had he explained all this to Kensuke at the outset. Although municipal officials and ward councilors were to take part in the survey, apparently there was room for others as well, and the city was looking for someone interested in natural science.
Sasaki’s style never changed. He had to take the other by surprise first, and clarified only then.
‘When is the survey due to take place?’ Kensuke was already asking about the schedule.
‘Can I take it you’re game?’
‘Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
Not only did Kensuke now have the opportunity to visit Battery No. 6, but also to do so legally. All he had to do was tag along. Now he’d certainly find out. The moment he set foot on the island, the bewitching creature that had dwelt in his mind for the past nine years would no doubt vanish.
Once Sasaki had given