Awaken from a Dream Page 9

  The singer shook her head forcefully, hoping to dispel the ever-growing vision of the rabbit from her thoughts. Whoever or whatever it was, the rabbit had vanished from the exhibit without a trace, like a puff of smoke dissipating into air.

  Did that mean that, like smoke, the rabbit could go anywhere, through any crack?

  The chilling thought prompted her to her feet.

  With its two bedrooms, her apartment was luxuriously spacious for a woman living alone. With quick footsteps, she moved to her living room and turned on the lights, and then the TV. She pressed the play button on her VCR, which already had a tape inside it. Edward Scissorhands, a favorite of Yukiko’s, began to play.

  Portrayed by Johnny Depp in a superb performance, Edward possessed scissor blades for hands, which kept him isolated from normal humans. Yukiko was a huge fan of Depp, in no small part thanks to this film.

  Her anxiety was soon soothed by the bright lights of her living room and the comfort of watching a favorite movie. Quickly, she settled into her sofa and became absorbed.

  Johnny Depp tried to embrace Winona Ryder, but he couldn’t complete the gesture, for fear of hurting her.

  It was a rather sad scene. No matter how many times Yukiko watched it, she cried without fail. One of the nice things about living alone was being able to bawl as freely as she pleased without having to worry about anyone seeing her.

  Sniffing through her runny nose, she lay down across the sofa and eventually drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

  Yukiko didn’t know how long she had been asleep when a sound awoke her. Through sleepy, half-lidded eyes, she saw that her living room lights had been turned off. The curtains over the sliding glass door to her balcony glowed faintly from the streetlights outside.

  Just as she decided to go back to sleep, a silhouette passed across the curtains. Or at least, that’s what she thought she saw. It looked like it had been a plump person with a big round stomach and a distinctively round face. From the top of its head stood two long, thin horn-like protrusions that flapped about.

  It was the rabbit. It was the rabbit’s shadow.

  As sleep relentlessly pulled her back into its embrace, she experienced terror, pure and primal, deep down inside.

  Yukiko and Yoriko sat side by side on a couch in the talent agency’s reception area. Despite being managed by Kanda Projects, Yukiko had only visited this office a few times before, as her vocal and dance lessons were always held in a separate location.

  She felt oddly uncomfortable here.

  After a short time, Kanda Hiroshi—the agency’s president—appeared around the wall of filing cabinets and metal bookcases that partitioned the reception area from the main workspace. Kanda must have been older than fifty, but his face remained smooth and shiny to an off-putting extent. He sat on a second couch facing the two women.

  Yoriko greeted him without small talk. “Have you thought about what we discussed earlier?”

  Kanda blinked his eyes a few times in a put-upon manner. “You mean Yukiko taking a break?” He turned to the singer. “Well, Yukiko, what do you think? Yoriko-kun has asked me to give you time to rest, but I’d like to hear your opinion.”

  Glancing at Yoriko, Yukiko answered, “I don’t want a break. I know she’ll be worried about me, and I’m sorry to do that to her, but I just want to keep doing my job.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Yoriko pleaded. She took the singer’s hand in hers. “This is a matter of your personal well-being. This goes beyond being an idol. You need to think of yourself. If you wait until you’ve already ruined your health, it will be too late.”

  Yukiko squeezed her manager’s hand. “I understand,” she said. “Believe me, I do. But focusing on my work is the best way to help me get through this. Taking a break sounds like the reasonable thing to do, but it actually might make things worse.”

  Kanda stood and said, “Then it’s settled. Yukiko’s schedule will go on without any changes. But for our part, we’ll keep an extra close eye on her. Right, Yoriko-kun?”

  Defeated, the manager rose to her feet and gave a reluctant nod. “Okay. That’s what we’ll do.” Then to Yukiko, she said, “Your taping for Music Standby is today. I’ll go to the station ahead of you, but please, if at any point it gets to be too much, don’t hesitate to tell us.”

  Yukiko grinned and said, “I’ll see you there.”

  After Yoriko left, Kanda invited Yukiko to sit next to him, and she soon obliged. With an untroubled grin, he said, “Yoriko-kun always worries about everything. That can be a good thing, but sometimes she takes it a little too far.” He winked at her as if to say, What can you do?

  Then he added, “By the way, I have a present for you. Something came here this morning with your name on it.”

  Kanda reached under the table between the two facing sofas and retrieved a package. Wrapped in white paper, the box was about thirty centimeters long on either side.

  “Open it and take a look,” Kanda said. “I’ve already had a peek inside, and I have to say, it’s pretty cute.”

  She opened the box and a rabbit tumbled out.

  Yukiko gasped.

  The rabbit was a wind-up figure about twenty centimeters tall. As it marched along the table, its long ears rose and fell, and it beat little drumsticks against a drum carried at its stomach.

  “Well?” Kanda said, beaming. “Was I right? Cute, isn’t it?”

  I’ve had enough of that man, Yukiko thought, silently cursing her callous boss as she walked to the television station. Of all things, it had to be a toy rabbit. How little do I matter to him?

  For days she had been tormented by visions of the rabbit. It was starting to affect her daily life. And yet Kanda had excitedly brought out that rabbit toy. He should have known that was nothing she wanted to see.

  She shook her head left and right as her mind went back to that wind-up rabbit drumming away. Just remembering it gave her the chills all over again.

  Subconsciously, Yukiko hurried her pace. All she could do was head to the studio where Yoriko was waiting. Her manager would understand how she was feeling.

  The television station was near Akasaka’s bustling commercial district—close enough to her talent agency’s office to make walking her only option. She could have taken a taxi, but she didn’t want to inconvenience a driver by only riding for the minimum fare. Besides, she’d been feeling like she hadn’t been getting enough exercise and figured a little walk would do her good.

  But even if she might have annoyed the driver, she should have taken a taxi. That, or she should have insisted that someone from the office walk with her to the TV station—for just minutes after so casually deciding to leave the office alone and on foot, she would again be confronted by blood-chilling terror.

  Something’s wrong, Yukiko thought.

  She had just turned onto a side street near the train station. Small shops lined the narrow and sleepy street. Some were little two-story mom-and-pop operations with their residences above the street level shop and only old, weather-beaten signs to announce their presence. Others were greengrocers with fruits and vegetables left out in bins with nary a customer or proprietor in sight.

  The street was so quiet that it made the bustle and noise of the nearby commercial district seem like it hadn’t existed at all. Yukiko always took this street when walking to the TV station, and she recognized immediately that something was off—though she didn’t know what.

  Something was out of place on this familiar street. But what?

  Yukiko stopped to observe.

  There was the candy store that always seemed to be under the watch of the same old woman every time Yukiko passed by. Next to the store, there was a run-down cigarette stand, a greengrocer, and a shoe store.

  Yukiko liked that this street was never busy. Just a few dozen meters away were teeming crowds, yet this street alone seemed left behind from another time. It offered her nostalgia and a kind of comforting loneliness. Walking past tho
se old shops often reminded her of her hometown.

  But on this day, it felt cold and unwelcoming.

  Unable to locate the cause of this change, Yukiko thought, Oh well, and started walking again. Just a few steps later, she stopped anew. A group of excited children had gathered at the other end of the street. There were maybe ten of them, happily bouncing and laughing.

  That’s what’s different, Yukiko realized.

  Children didn’t usually come to play here. When she’d turned onto this street, she must have caught a glimpse of them, and the impression they’d left on her subconscious mind had transformed the street into something unfamiliar.

  That must be what’s different. I’m sure of it.

  Having solved the mystery, Yukiko’s spirits lifted. With a sigh of relief, she walked toward the children.

  They were each holding a red balloon. Someone in the middle of their circle was handing them out—probably to advertise for some nearby department store.

  The sight reminded Yukiko of her own childhood. Handing out balloons on a street corner was a common way for stores to drum up business, and as a child she had received many balloons that way, much to her delight. One time, it had made her so happy that she started skipping along, and the balloon slipped from her hand and floated away into the sky.

  Yukiko approached the circle of children in hopes of getting a balloon for herself, for old times’ sake.

  That was when the hidden figure stood up in the center of the circle.

  It was a person in an animal mascot suit, nearly twice as tall as the children, and until that moment, it must have been kneeling down to hand out the balloons.

  Yukiko froze.

  Immediately, she closed her eyes. Something inside her told her she mustn’t look.

  But her eyes disobeyed. They slowly opened.

  Why can’t I keep my eyes closed? she asked herself, with increasing panic. I can’t look. I know it!

  Just as her eyelids were halfway open, her mind recognized what it was she was seeing.

  The animal costume had a rotund body, oversized head, and two long, slender ears—it was a rabbit.

  It was the rabbit. The source of her terror. The thing that had taught her fear like she had never known. It stood there, right before her eyes.

  For a moment, she wondered if Kanda’s wind-up figure had grown to ten times its size to appear here before her. The thought made her more perplexed than afraid.

  But soon, her eyes opened all the way, and they stared unblinking at the rabbit. His head creaked around, fixing big round eyes on Yukiko. His right eye was distorted and drooping.

  There was no room for doubt or denial. This was the same rabbit that had glided his disgusting hands up and down her life-size twin.

  He seemed to recognize her. When their eyes met, the suit’s ears perked up.

  Keeping her eyes locked on the rabbit, Yukiko slowly backed away, careful not to make any sudden movements that might provoke him. After an excruciatingly long and frightful while, she managed to circle around the rabbit’s back. Quickly, she turned and slipped out the end of the street.

  She exited onto a main thoroughfare complete with its typical traffic of cars and bustling crowds. The TV station was just across the road and down a little to the right.

  Yukiko patted down her chest and exhaled in relief. Yoriko was inside the station, along with the staff and crew members, many of whom were familiar to her. Once she got inside, she would be safe.

  Yukiko ran up the stairs of the elevated pedestrian crossing. If she had looked over her shoulder, she would have seen something that would have made her heart leap out of her chest.

  Just a few steps behind her, something followed. Whenever she went faster, it too sped up. Whenever she slowed down, it slowed down, too. Her pursuer carefully kept the distance between them the same. It seemed to be enjoying the chase.

  It was, of course, the rabbit. He chased behind her, with nearly silent footsteps.

  Out of breath and shoulders heaving, Yukiko reached the TV station entrance. Her fear and distress melted away, and her legs went weak. Putting force into each step, she walked up to the front doors.

  She saw her reflection in the glass. Her hair was a mess, her skin blemished, and her eyes sunken. She looked like an entirely different person.

  I look so old like this, she thought, with a self-deprecating smirk.

  Then the little smirk froze.

  Beside the exhausted woman’s reflection was that of another—the rabbit.

  Yukiko swallowed a startled cry.

  The rabbit stood right next to her, haunting her like a ghost. His smile seemed to be directed at her frightened expression.

  He followed me. He followed me this whole time, and I never even noticed.

  The terror which she’d kept locked deep inside had now broken free, coursing through her body and filling her awareness. Face contorting, her swallowed-down cry came rushing back up into a wordless shriek.

  She ran full speed into the TV station. So wild was her expression and so mad her charge that the front security guard couldn’t even stop her. Still screaming, she fled down the lobby stairs and into the basement floor green room, where she collapsed into the arms of a puzzled-looking Yoriko.

  The manager staggered back a half step but managed to catch the distraught singer.

  “What’s wrong?” Yoriko shouted. “Yukiko-chan! Get ahold of yourself. Get ahold of yourself!”

  She slapped Yukiko on the check.

  Yukiko looked at her in wide-eyed shock, and then her eyes began to fill with tears.

  “Yukiko-chan,” Yoriko said, “look at me. Can you calm down and tell me what happened? Please, Yukiko-chan.”

  Without looking away, the singer nodded her head twice. Her lips trembled, and her right cheek twitched. After an empty swallow, she forced out a tight-throated answer.

  “The… the rabbit. It was the rabbit. He followed me here. He came into this building. He’s still in here, somewhere. I know it.”

  Unable to manage any more, she covered her face with her hands.

  The moment Yoriko heard the words “the rabbit,” she thought, Not this again. Another hallucination. This exhaustion is too much for her. She felt a heartless kind of pity for the singer under her care.

  As Yoriko saw it, Yukiko was still just a kid—a kid who had been plunged into the tumultuous life that came with being in the entertainment industry. Physically and mentally, the young singer had been pushed to the breaking point.

  In an attempt to put Yukiko at ease, the manager walked toward the door with exaggerated movements. She threw it open.

  “Here, look,” Yoriko said. “There’s nothing out there. There’s no one in the hallway.”

  Fearfully, Yukiko looked at the door. Like Yoriko said, nothing was out of the ordinary.

  But—but.

  The rabbit who relentlessly pursued her was no hallucination. Yukiko was sure of that. His grimy, furry hand had been about to grab her shoulder. She hadn’t dreamt or imagined that up. It had really happened.

  Steeling her resolve, she walked toward Yoriko, then she pushed past the woman and into the hall.

  No one was there.

  “See?” Yoriko said with a bright smile. “Nothing.”

  Not quite able to accept it, Yukiko shook her head and said, “But…”

  Yoriko spoke soothingly. “In any case, that scary rabbit is gone. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

  She’s right, Yukiko thought as her nerves slowly settled. The rabbit is gone. I don’t need to be afraid.

  She felt her heart begin to slow, and her shoulders grew heavy. She sat down in a chair at a makeup table and let out a deep sigh, then absently gazed off at a ceiling-mounted TV playing a relay feed from a studio camera upstairs.

  Yoriko put her arm around her and spoke softly into her ear. “Yukiko-chan,” she said, “once you get through this appearance today, take a little break, okay? You must be exhausted.
And you know what—I am, too. A little rest would do us both some good.”

  Yukiko took her manager’s hand and squeezed it tight. “Thank you. Your concern means a lot to me, and it’s great that you’re looking out for me. But I’m fine. I’m not exhausted. It’s that rabbit that’s upsetting me, nothing else.”

  Yoriko wanted to say, Those hallucinations are proof of your exhaustion. But she sensed that saying that would only serve to put more strain on the girl’s already fragile mind, so she kept it to herself.

  Yoriko squeezed Yukiko’s hand back and gave the singer a there, there pat on the shoulder.

  Yukiko leaned back in the chair and looked at the vanity mirror. Her sunken-eyed face was reflected back at her.

  I do look tired, she admitted to herself. Yoriko is right.

  Her lips formed a wry smile as she thought of how her manager knew her own body better than herself.

  She really is incredible, Yukiko thought. She turned her head to look to Yoriko.

  The two women’s eyes met. They nodded to each other without breaking their gaze.

  Yoriko-san worries about me like I were her own sister, and I trust in her, from the bottom of my heart.

  Yukiko suddenly wanted to hug the woman. In this city of strangers, Yoriko was the only person who felt like family. Fat tears began to drip from the singer’s eyes and blurred her vision so that she could no longer see the image on the ceiling-mounted monitor.

  “I can’t believe I’m crying like this,” Yukiko said, wiping away her tears. “What’s gotten into me?”

  On the monitor, various crew members were constructing the set for the eight o’clock live broadcast music show. Yukiko had been on the show a few times now, and she always liked to get an advance look at the set through the makeup room’s monitor. That way, she could decide which outfit would best match the set’s design and color.

  Yoriko looked up at the TV screen and said, “No matter how many times I see the sets they build for Music Standby, it’s always dazzling.”

  Yukiko nodded. “If there were more shows like this one,” she said, “it would go a long way toward lifting up the idol business.”