The time my uncle tried to kill me.
When I was in elementary school, I had an uncle staying at my house.
He was fired from his job at a factory, couldn’t pay his rent, and was evicted from his apartment.
He had nothing to do, so he hung around my house every day.
He had no income, and all he did was drink cheap liquor and sleep every day.
He was a very loving uncle who bought me ice cream from time to time and took me fishing and stag beetle hunting.
About six months after he started staying with us.
One Saturday late at night in the rain, I heard my father and uncle arguing downstairs.
They were yelling at each other pretty hard, so I turned off the radio I was listening to and listened under my breath.
I heard the door slam and my uncle came pounding up the stairs.
“Oh my God, he’s coming to my room?” I heard the shoji door in the Buddhist room next door slam shut.
I quietly crawled under the covers and fell asleep before I knew it.
The next day, Sunday, my parents went to the store and it was just me and my uncle at home.
I pretended I didn’t know about yesterday’s events.
I was having lunch with fried chicken that Mom had prepared for me while watching Sunday afternoon TV.
I heard my uncle come out of the Buddhist room, followed by the sound of him going down the stairs.
I was a little nervous and said, “Uncle, good morning,” and he said
He started to eat with me, saying, “Oh, what a delicious-looking meal.”
He asked me, “Tsutomu (pseudonym), do you want to go fishing after dinner?”
He invited me to go fishing with him.
I agreed, trying to comfort my uncle with my childish mind.
With two fishing rods and a box full of traps in a bucket, my uncle and I went to a nearby waterfall where we usually went fishing.
We headed for a nearby waterfall basin where we usually go fishing.
The water level had risen with the previous day’s rain, and the muddy, coffee-milk-colored water was swirling around in thick muddy pools.
“It doesn’t look like we’re going to catch much fish,” I said to my uncle.
My uncle responded, “I don’t know, let’s give it a try.
I don’t think it will take much,” I said, to which my uncle replied, “I don’t know. You can catch eels and so on.”
And he went on to the waterfall basin.
I wished I didn’t have to go so deep into the water, but I followed my uncle who was walking quickly and without saying a word.
I followed my uncle’s lead.
He stopped in front of a tall rock just before the waterfall basin.
“Let’s fish from up here, Tutom. Let’s go up a little,” he said, lifting me up.
I was held by the side and crawled up on the rock, and he said, “How’s it going? How’s the water? Is it fishable?”
my uncle asked me.
I looked at the surface of the swirling muddy water, “I can’t see any fish,” I said, looking for a shadow of a fish.
I looked at the surface of the water for a while and noticed that my uncle did not answer.
“Uncle?” I turned around.
He was standing right behind me with his hands raised in front of his chest, as if he was about to push me off.
I turned around and froze when I saw him.
He had a blank expression on his face and powerless eyes.
Time stopped with the sound of cicadas in the background.
I could only stare back into his eyes, unable to say anything.
Sweat was pouring down my cheeks, and my heart was pounding inside my motionless body.
My uncle didn’t put his hand down either, just stared at me with unnerved eyes.
How long did we stare at each other?
Suddenly, the bushes behind my uncle rustled.
Both of them came to their senses and looked at the bushes.
I looked over and saw what appeared to be an old man from a neighboring farm cross the road without seeming to notice us.
I walked past him and said, “I’m going home first because I don’t think I’ll be able to catch anything today.”
As soon as I was a little bit away from the waterfall, I dashed away as fast as I could.
When I looked back, I thought my uncle was right behind me with that look in his eyes, so I ran as fast as I could.
After running for quite a while, I realized I was crying a lot.
Instead of going home, I went to the restaurant where my parents working.
I stayed at their restaurant, which at the time was a restaurant, until they finished work.
My uncle did not come home that day.
The next night, my father called the police, and a few days later he was found drowned.
I did not tell anyone what happened at the waterfall basin.
It was decided that my uncle did not commit suicide but died in an accident.
I found a note written in my uncle’s handwriting on a box of traps I had brought back.
It read, “I’ll die with Tsutomu.”
