It was neither yellow nor red. Calling it orange was incorrect as well. What colour should be used to describe the ray of light that shot through the window’s clouded glass?
That colour probably had a term that fit it perfectly. If there was no name for it, then it could be said that it had no colour.
It had no colour.
He raised his melodica and held the mouthpiece in his mouth. He looked at the setting sun that had no colour with his bright eyes that had no colour. He blew his air out, his fingers moving by themselves.
He sat on the tatami floor with his knees curled up and leaned his back against the dirty wall. Not including the narrow place he was at, this smoke filled room had hardly any space to walk around in. On top of the floor, the table, the old chest of drawers, the cooler box and even on top of the broken television that could no longer show anything were magazines, newspapers, flyers, packaging paper, plastic bags, cardboard boxes, styrofoam and plastic containers, plastic bottles that were empty or held something inside, empty cans, chipped cups, unwashed plates, spoons, forks, used disposable chopsticks, carcasses of flies, mosquitoes and moths and so on —a variety of miscellaneous objects were placed there, and in some cases, stacked upon each other. In fact, he had no place where he could go.
He had forgotten about all those things. Peering at the setting sun that had no colour, he concentrated on playing his melodica. He was absorbed in making things that could not be described with words into musical sounds. In his world, the yellowing newspapers, the chipped plastic vessels and the cups that were left in one spot instead of being put away did not exist. The foul stench of cigarette smoke was not floating about either. He was being enveloped by flowing sounds that he was producing in his performance. He was in the core of the sound. The sounds protected him.
“….be quiet.”
That voice did not reach him. Other then his own sound, he could not hear anything else.
“Quiet!”
Even though the woman leaned her thin body over the table, she was not within his vision.
She put down the ashtray that was in her hand. The cigarette butts had become a mountain and spilled out of the ashtray. She thrust the cigarette she was sucking into the mountain and struck the table.
“Didn’t I just tell you to be quiet, Noel?! Shut up! My head hurts!”
Noel was dragged back to reality and his lips left the mouthpiece. He put down his melodica and looked at his grandmother whose head was streaked with gray. Last time, as long as she only saw a few strands of white her, she would call the hair salon to make an appointment and get her hair dyed. And if there was a crease on her clothes, she would take notice no matter what.
His grandmother’s blouse was stained with sweat. There were runs in her stocking and the hole at the heel was larger than it was this morning.
“Sorry, Obaa-chan.”
“You’re just saying it. Always just paying lip service…”
His grandmother held onto the ashtray again. The cigarette butts scattered everywhere and her hands were also dirtied by the ash. Regardless, his grandmother still used that hand to scratch her head.
Okie “Leave me alone for a while. When you’re around……it makes me feel terrible.”
“Sorry.”
Noel stood up headed for the entrance. It took some time because he had to find a footing for every step he took. Because he was dawdling, his grandmother clicked her tongue, hit the table and the items fell over, rushing to move faster. Somehow or other, Noel made it to the entrance and wore his worn out sneakers.
“What time should I come back?”
“I don’t know. Whenever you feel like it.”
“Alright.”
Just when he was about to open the door, his grandmother coughed. It was a terrible cough that seemed like it was going to crack and shatter his grandmother’s flimsy body.
“Obaa-chan.”
“……You’re still here? If it’s about money, I don’t have any.”
“I don’t need money.”
“Then, what is it?”
“Smoking isn’t good for your health.”
“Annoying. You have a cheeky mouth.”
“Sorry.”
Noel left the place, holding onto his melodica. His grandmother’s room was on the second floor of the apartment. Noel stopped in the middle of the rust colour staircase that was outside and sat down. Because the window of the room was open, he could faintly hear his grandmother coughing from where he was. After the coughing stopped, Noel blew on his melodica. Just as the feeling of the wind on his cheeks and the sounds layer upon each other, the door to the first floor room opened. It was Yamashita-san’s room.
Yamashita-san’s wife stepped out and looked up at below from below the steps. Yamashita-san’s household had five children and on her well-built body was a large abdomen. Soon, number six will be born. The wife folded her muscular arms and her bare face formed into a grimace.
“Hey, Noel-Kun. Sorry for having to say this, but can you stop that?”
“That?”
“Playing your melodica. I have little ones in my house. Right now, they’re taking a nap, you’ll wake them up.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s alright. At the very least, it should be fine playing at home, right?”
“……yes.”
“Then do just that.”
Yamashita-san’s wife sighed and turned around. What are you doing, discipline him properly, granny, the instant that wife’s mutters reached his ears, Noel’s melodica struck the ground. But if it broke that easily then he would not be able to play it a second time. He descended the stairs and roamed around the apartment. The sun was gradually sinking lower and as he looked at the shadows, they grew. And the that, the surroundings started to darken. The people who walked by gave suspicious looks without fail when the sight of Noel holding a melodica entered their eyes. It was just that. Even the people who lived near him and knew his face did not call out to him.
Noel stopped on the path that led to the apartment and perked up his ears but it seemed like his grandmother had stopped coughing. The fragrance of a delicious dinner floated over from a household from somewhere. Bright lights peeked out through the window from elsewhere and he felt a tinge of pain in the middle of his chest.
He was unable to hold back the urge to just blow his melodica however he wanted but it was impossible here.
Noel walked in the direction that was lower down. He ran for a bit then slowed down and then ran again. By the time he finally reached the river embankment, it had become dark.
He went down to the grassy patch that was at the river side after crossing the embankment and set up his melodica.
He suddenly turned his head and there, on top of the embankment, stood an adult who he did not know. The adult was staring in his direction.
Noel frantically ran off, aiming for the bridge.
It was terribly noisy under the bridge where cars came and went in both directions frequently. The screeching of the car’s tires against the road and the sounds of their engines reverberated, as though they were cries of a monster. Noel was fearful but he sat down on the grass and placed the mouthpiece of the melodica in his mouth.
When Noel closed his eyes, the image of the monster appeared in his mind. It was not possible to explain this in words. But he was able to with music. There was a sudden push and as though he was being controlled by it, Noel blew on his melodica. When the sound was being played, the monster’s form became more distinct. The monster went on a rampage, wrecking the bridge, seizing the cars and easily tossing them aside. At last, the monster stared at Noel. He was so scared that it felt like his head was going to split apart. Even so, Noel continued to play his melody. The monster grabbed Noel, sinking its teeth into his head and chewed with chomping noises. Noel was completely eaten up.
And so, Noel was dead.
Even when Noel was gone, the sound did not disappear.
The monster was here.
Moko-Chan's Translations 