Short Story "Aquarium" by Akira Sawatari

Perhaps the reason I decided to meet there was because I was drawn to the incongruity of an aquarium in a run-down building. In my mind, aquariums were usually by the sea, and they were supposed to be somewhat glamorous and celebratory places, complete with large tanks where big fish swam leisurely, or shows featuring cheerful dolphins and sea lions. However, this aquarium was said to be in the basement of a shabby multi-tenant building. For a moment, I pictured a stifling space like a trendy bar, with only tropical fish tanks lining the dim room, but the man insisted it was no such thing—it was a full-scale aquarium that collected creatures from the seven seas.

Was it curiosity, or perhaps nostalgia? Of course, there was no reason for me to feel nostalgic for such an unfamiliar place, but it seems I have a fixation on old, desolate locations. For example, second-run theaters on the verge of closing with no customers, or amusement arcades left behind by the era in rural towns. Ironworks where red-rusted chains hang from the beams like clock pendulums. For some reason, going to such places makes my heart race, and I don't mind visiting them two or three times. Perhaps he invited me because he remembered me saying that once.

When I came up from the subway station, the sky beyond the buildings was dyed the color of India ink, and the promised time had long since passed. I hurried my pace, feeling my daughter's fingertips in my palm like white bones.

The entrance was at the bottom of a narrow, steep staircase. When I paid the admission fee and went inside, even the air within was damp and heavy with water droplets, and on top of that, a faint, continuous vibration from a pump echoed from somewhere below the lower limit of human hearing. For some reason, I suddenly felt exhausted.

It was dark, and I couldn't see the face of the staff member who took my ticket. "The viewing route is marked with white symbols, and emergency exits are posted in green. In the event of a disaster, a siren will sound. Now, please enjoy your journey through the subterranean sea."

We started walking, following the fluorescent arrows.

Just as the man had said, the aquarium was so intricate that it was hard to believe it was just a corner of a building. The route turned irregularly to the right and left, and pale, stardust-like lights were embedded in the black walls, casting a feeble glow into the air.

Before long, I entered the first exhibition room and my eyes widened. A large mass of water reaching to the ceiling was crossed by schools of cold-colored fish. In the midst of this, as if the light had exploded all at once, it suddenly turned into a thousand swords and flipped. I was enchanted by the unexpected scattering of steel.

The next place seemed to be a room for fish that live clinging to the bottom of the water; in a complete change from before, dark brown, rock-like objects were scattered silently on sand mixed with stones. If you thought it was a shell, it was a fish; if you thought it was a fish, it was a crab. They suppressed all signs of life to the extreme, living in unity with the inanimate. I felt as if even time was crouching sluggishly there, and I was overcome by a faint drowsiness.

What was strange was that there were no other visitors besides us. No matter how far I walked, I didn't encounter a child's eyes staring at the strange ecology of deep-sea creatures, nor the arms of lovers intertwined like vines; only an unmanned corridor continued forever. Yet, the room was filled with the intense presence of something. It might have been because of that pump sound, which sounded like a filtered whisper—.

The corridor often turned into stairs, and while passing through several exhibition spaces, we were led further and further down. Perhaps we had already descended several basement floors, or maybe even deeper.

I let my gaze wander in search of the man. He should have been standing somewhere waiting for me. The grotesque mating of an octopus, burying its spermatophore deep into the female's flesh, stirred my lust against my will, and the transparent shells of the shrimp were as clear as a forgotten dream. I longed for the thicket of the man's armpit. If I ran my tongue over that spot, it would surely taste faintly of the sea. The man must be hungry, too. Although, since I had brought my daughter, it was uncertain whether we could have that moment tonight.

After wandering through the labyrinthine building, we found ourselves in the center of a donut-shaped tank that surrounded us 360 degrees. Inside the intentionally dimmed water, an oarfish with crimson fins waving passed by, staring at us with inorganic eyes. A long, silver folding screen. "I've been waiting for you." My daughter shook off my hand and ran toward the softly glowing thing.

A hand touched my shoulder. From behind, the man was holding my shoulder.

"I've been waiting, you finally came," the man repeated. I said, "That child..." and followed with my eyes where my daughter had disappeared.

"This isn't really a fish that can be kept in a tank. It swims alone in the deep sea at a depth of 1,000 meters."

"Then what is this? Why is it here?"

"The real one should be eating marine snow falling in a quiet, dark place where no one is around."

"Even like this, it feels like an illusion. But I feel like I've seen it before. I don't remember where, though. Still, I'm sleepy," I muttered. As I was gripped by the thought that I might never be able to escape this drowsiness, this melancholy that felt like sinking vertically into water from my spine, the man gently stroked my back and traced the crack of my buttocks with his finger. Lust surged again like the tide. I gripped the man's bare arm.

We held hands and went into the next room. There were several oval tanks of slightly different colors and sizes lined up, and various types of jellyfish were floating inside them.

My daughter had become a statue in her ecstasy. The light emitted from both the tank and the jellyfish reflected as pale colors on her eyes and her slightly parted lips. Indeed, as I gazed at the jellyfish, the layers of sedimented memories seemed to be slowly stirred up. I gently groped at the water's edge of my dreams.

Hey, why do they write jellyfish as 'mother of water'?

My daughter suddenly asked me that. 'Well, I wonder why,' I answered slowly, while remembering that I had once asked the same question myself. When I started to think about when that might have been, the sound of a siren echoed from somewhere far away—.

—Hey, why do they write jellyfish as 'mother of water'?

When I asked that, my mother frowned and stared intently into the aquarium tank.

I don't remember the face of the man who was with us then. I only remember that he was somewhat older than my mother and quite tall.

I had been used to my mother's lovers changing one after another since I was small, and I couldn't be surprised now just because a new man had appeared. However, one summer morning, when my mother was sitting at the dining table with a strange man, I felt an inexplicable chill I had never experienced before. Thinking back, perhaps it was a premonition that my mother would choose this man over me.

While graciously accepting my mother, who was busily trying to take care of him, the man spoke to me in a friendly manner. Being on guard, I remained silent. During the short summer we spent the three of us together, I don't think I ever once felt comfortable with him.

The inescapable relationship with a married man seemed to be inching closer to a dangerous abyss day by day. When I pretended to be asleep in the back seat of the car during drives, dangerous words like 'let's just run away,' 'as long as I have you,' and 'I don't care if I throw everything away' would spill out from the front. There seemed to be no place for me in those words. My mother's voice would be strangely cheerful, or suddenly change to a tearful tone.

My mother began to sink into melancholy more often than usual. Perhaps because of her irritation with her daughter who wouldn't accept the man, she started lashing out at me over trivial things.

One such day, my mother unusually suggested that we go out for some fun. An aquarium in the basement of a building in a run-down part of town. It had a gloomy impression just from that, and it was never a place I felt drawn to, but for some reason, my mother was keen on it. I remember the sight of us walking through the city, which had completely sunk into twilight, with her holding my hand. The sky was dark, and the city was bright. However, the footage cuts off there, and all that remains are fragmented impressions, like unedited film, such as the dim indoors and my own face reflected in the glass.

But then, the memory came back. Like wiping the surface of a fogged mirror with the palm of my hand, the old images emerged vividly. I had casually spoken out loud about how I found the plate on the jellyfish tank strange. My mother, for some reason, had answered in a distracted manner, 'Well, I wonder why,' but...

There was no way I could have realized it at the time. That it was the last time I would see my mother. What did I do after that? Didn't I move to the next room feeling unsatisfied, and get distracted by the tank in front of me again? Didn't I feel annoyed by my mother, who was with the man, and try to push her out of my sight for the time being? And then, when the siren started to wail in the distance of my dream, didn't I realize she was gone when I turned around?

Didn't I turn pale, thinking I had been left behind, and search the deserted corridors? Didn't I bite my lip to hold back tears and call my mother's name over and over? Even then, didn't my mother fail to appear, and didn't I stand frozen, not even knowing the way to the exit?

I wandered through many exhibition rooms. Moray eels poking their heads out from between rocks, sea snakes undulating their mottled bodies. I can remember it clearly now.

A kelp forest. Surrounded by living curtains swaying toward the zenith, watching the glittering fragments of sunlight fall, didn't I almost convince myself that I had died long ago and was here at the bottom of the water?

Memories welled up one after another, overwhelming me. I might drown if I stayed like this.

Suddenly, I realized that neither my daughter nor the man were there. I was all alone, standing frozen in the illumination created by the jellyfish. The sound of the siren was gone too. I let out a short cry of sorrow, and ran through the dim water corridor to search for my mother—.

I run and run, and keep on running. I call and call, and keep on calling. While calling my daughter's name, and my mother's name, I find myself off the designated route before I know it.

I didn't know the backstage of an aquarium was this cluttered. Pipes of various sizes crawl over bare concrete walls. Fluorescent lights flickering with a crackling sound. Blue buckets filled with murky water. When I suddenly stop, the smell of rotting seaweed hits my nose. Small fish for feed are spilling onto the floor and jumping. No longer knowing where I am heading, I push open a heavy iron door with an emergency exit sign.

The evening breeze cooled my flushed skin as it passed by. Looking up, a vivid summer sunset spread across the entire celestial sphere. The sun seemed to have just set beyond the sea, and the horizon was still shimmering with lingering light. The scent of the tide was refreshing. The shadows of seagulls flying overhead were black.

I began to walk slowly. Unlike the damp and heavy interior of the building, here there was light and wind. The calls of the seabirds mingled with the sound of the waves.

I felt calm as I looked around. That's right, this was indeed the edge of the sea. When I looked back, the lights of the city were twinkling far inland, but I no longer felt any attachment to that place. I gazed at the sea, which was tinged with crimson. By now, both my mother and daughter must be drifting leisurely beneath those waves.

I took off my pumps and removed my stockings. After climbing over the low concrete embankment, the black sandy beach was right below. As I walked to the water's edge, the waves that had washed up in white foam soaked my insteps and receded along with the sand beneath my feet. The water was not yet cold, but the force of it pulling back felt like a voice calling me from the waves, and joy welled up within me. I could finally return to the place I had always wanted to go back to. As I waded through the waves and began to walk forward again, I waited for the water to embrace me.