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V7 Story II – Part 07

Three puppets stepped forward, their prominent hook noses wobbling as they spoke in high-pitched voices.

“Do you find yourself bored, dear guests?”

“Are you bored, dear guests?”

“You seem bored, dear guest.”

The trio of old lady puppets cackled, and something emerged from behind the stage with the sound of rusty metal grinding. A clown on a unicycle wobbled forward and collided with a girl in an indecent dress, sending them both tumbling awkwardly.

An elderly gentleman with a pipe shook his head ruefully. “The audience’s boredom is a disgrace for jesters, actors, and singers alike,” he said in a resounding voice.

“Then, might I suggest a different performance dedicated solely to your enjoyment?” The jester sprang to his feet, his red nose bouncing. “Let us begin with a tale—a story that resembles a fable.”

“Once upon a time, there was a faithful dog and an honest master.”

Deranged laughter rang high as a shabby-looking man holding a bird in one hand stood up and opened its crooked lips. The mechanical parrot continued to laugh as if it were broken.

“However, let it be known that while this tale holds significance, there is no lesson to be learned.”

“Lesson. Lesson. Lesson. Lesson. Lesson. Lesson. Lesson. Lesson,” shrieked the puppets, raising their fists in unison.

The next instant, they dispersed swiftly to the sides, and a handsome young man stepped forward, his blue eyes sparkling.

“Many a soul yearns for such teachings, yet they elude our grasp.” he rumbled. “Perhaps there may lie some hidden meaning in this story, but nothing as grand as a lesson.”

He waved his finger like a conductor, flailing his arms. The puppets nodded one by one. The young man slowly relaxed his movements and bowed.

“Nonetheless, if you are still interested, please make yourself comfortable and lend an ear. There is still tea available, and should you desire snacks, there is plenty to indulge in.”

Kugutsu appeared from stage right, carrying cups, and jumped down from the stage. He prepared tea before us, added teaspoons, and placed cookies and sweets nearby.

“It’s just a silly story about a dog and a corpse,” he finished gently.

Lively music resounded from out of nowhere as the curtain was raised on the twisted stage.

Haunting strains of music, both merry and dreary, echoed throughout the room, their distorted tones reminiscent of a carnival. A shrill noise pierced through the cacophony as a clown appeared before the stage, brandishing a worn trumpet.

He sounded the instrument, long and high, and in a voice as distorted as the music, he announced, “Act one: How the dog collapsed, and how it was picked up.”

There was a strange, rattling sound. A toy dog moved to the center of the stage, its tin body equipped with old wheels, while its face and torso were covered in messy, glued-on fur.

“Woof, woof, woof, woof,” it barked mechanically.

“Oh, how empty life can be,” spoke a soft human voice.

Kugutsu was sitting in front of the stage, translating the dog’s barks. In his hand was a booklet—the script, I guessed.

I understood then that while the puppets moved like actors, they were simply following predetermined movements. Maihime asked Kugutsu what kind of story he liked to share. The puppets probably had several plays pre-programmed into them. The spectacle unfolding before me was a product of Maihime’s supernatural ability.

Puppets, modeled after humans and dogs, performed predetermined acts.

Woof, woof, woof.

“I don’t want much. I just wanted love from others. I wanted ordinary kindness. But I can’t even have that. How empty my life is. Should my wish be granted, I don’t mind being killed. Yet, I am now dying without even knowing the warmth of the human body.”

The dog spat out a wrinkled, red cloth from its mouth, leaving it to dangle. It was apparently meant to represent its tongue. Its chin twitched in convulsion, and it suddenly fell over, its wheels spinning helplessly in the air. No matter how much they turned, the dog couldn’t rise back to its feet.

Woof, woof, woof.

“Ah, how empty, sad, and painful. My wish remains unrealized, and nothing has changed. Should I have not escaped, then? But that place was hell. Escaping is a matter of dignity. I wanted to be free. And I obtained freedom. And now I am starving. The thirst is unbearable.”

The wheels kept on spinning. Yusuke yawned, while Hirugao stared at the dog with an icy gaze. As the wheels gradually lost momentum, the dog whimpered miserably.

“Ah, if only I had a good master!” Kugutsu cried mournfully.

At that moment, something emerged from stage left.

A girl in plain clothes trotted forward. Upon seeing the dog, she stopped in her tracks and covered her mouth in an exaggerated, surprised gesture.

The girl approached the dog with wide strides. Brushing the bottom of her skirt, she sat on the floor and opened the lid of her water bottle, letting the dog drink. The bottle was empty, but the dog opened and closed its mouth as if actually drinking. The girl smiled softly and stroked the dog’s head.

The wheels started spinning again, faster and faster, until the dog regained its energy.

Woof!

“Oh!”

The dog wagged its tail. Fitted with a small fan, it spun at tremendous speed. The girl lifted up the dog and set it down on the floor. The dog ran around the girl, barking in joy.

Woof, woof!

The stage curtain dropped.

Red cloth obscured our view.

The peculiar puppet show continued at a steady pace, the tale of the dog and the girl progressing from one chapter to the next.

Woof, woof, woof.

“Thus, I was blessed with a good master,” said Kugutsu, giving meaning to the dog’s monotonous barks.

Both voices penetrated my ears rather uncomfortably. The girl remained silent, and all other characters expressed themselves solely through grand gestures and facial expressions.

The upbeat, yet vacant melody persisted, disregarding the tale’s progression. The dog and the girl spent their days in peace. The dog served the girl dutifully, carrying her and her belongings whenever she went out, helping with household chores. For the girl, the dog worked tirelessly.

Woof, woof, woof, woof.

“Ah, I’m so happy. I have been blessed and showered with favor.”

The play chronicled the daily lives of the dog and the girl in a comedic tone. But one day, something strange happened.

An elderly woman from the neighborhood walked by the doghouse. She peered inside and froze. She raised her cane and leg high, widened her eyes, and hung her mouth open—a pose meant to show extreme shock.

The old lady moved her cane comically and left. The slumbering dog did not notice her.

The following day, villagers congregated around the girl’s house.

People who had been laughing with the girl until yesterday were now raising their fists, voicing their silent condemnation. There was no sound, but their expressions were menacing.

Disgust, animosity, contempt, hatred. Disgust, animosity, contempt, hatred.

All their faces were distorted hideously.

The girl emerged from the backdrop, her mouth agape. She let out a silent shriek.

The girl fled behind the screen. The hateful mob showed no mercy, shouting as they rushed into the girl’s house, flooding the small doorway.

The house collapsed, pinning the poor girl underneath the rubble.

The old woman struck the house with her cane. The butcher swung his fist. Children trampled the house. A beggar spat. They were all intent on killing the trapped girl.

I held my breath, watching in horror at the intense animosity. Concerned, I glanced at Yusuke and Hirugao, but they seemed unfazed. Yusuke looked bored, while Hirugao’s face was blank, as if she didn’t feel anything. Something was off. I was wondering if I should call their attention, but they could just be engrossed in the play.

I decided not to bother them and turned my gaze back to the stage.

The riot went on in silence, except for the mad barking of the dog. The people never uttered a word. There was a sorrowful scream, but the crowd didn’t stop trying to kill the girl.

Woof, woof. Whimper. Woof, woof. Whimper. Woof, woof. Whimper. Woof, woof. Whimper. Woof, woof. Whimper. Woof, woof. Whimper.

Kugutsu did not translate the dog’s cries. He had his face down, plugging his ears, as if he could hear the mob’s voices.

Eventually, the chaos died down. An axe split the screen, and the villagers dragged out the battered puppet of the girl, murmuring something under their breath. Like the beginning of the play, the puppets parted to the sides, creating a path on the stage.

Villagers carried the girl’s body down the path. At the end was a large window, where dull light poured in from the winter sky.

The dog was frozen, staring at his master’s lifeless form. Village girls rushed towards him. They offered words of comfort, stroked his head, showered him with love that he had longed for so much.

But the dog remained silent, his mouth shut, not once howling.

The body of the girl reached the window. Two muscular men lifted her up and tossed her outside. Seconds later, there was a loud splash.