Life Ceremony: Stories

Also by Sayaka Murata

Earthlings

Convenience Store Woman

Translated from the Japanese by Ginny Tapley Takemori

Grove Press

New York

Copyright © 2019 by Sayaka Murata

English translation © 2022 by Ginny Tapley Takemori

Jacket design by Gretchen Mergenthaler

Jacket art: Sukiyaki, Ivan Ryabokon / Alamy; heart © Shutterstock

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Originally published as Seimeishiki. Original Japanese edition published by Kawade Shobo Shinsha, Ltd., Tokyo. English language translation rights reserved to Grove Atlantic, Inc. under license granted by Sayaka Murata arranged with Kawade Shobo Shinsha, Ltd. through The English Agency (Japan) Ltd.

Published simultaneously in Canada

Printed in the United States of America

This book was set in 11-pt. Berling LT Std by Alpha Design and Composition of Pittsfield, NH.

Designed by Norman E. Tuttle at Alpha Design & Composition

First Grove Atlantic hardcover edition: July 2022

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is available for this title. 

ISBN 978-0-8021-5958-8

eISBN 978-0-8021-5959-5

Grove Press

an imprint of Grove Atlantic

154 West 14th Street

New York, NY 10011

Grove Atlantic gratefully acknowledges the support from the Japan Foundation for this publication.

Distributed by Publishers Group West

groveatlantic.com

Contents

A First-Rate Material

A Magnificent Spread

A Summer Night’s Kiss

Two’s Family

The Time of the Large Star

Poochie

Life Ceremony

Body Magic

Lover on the Breeze

Puzzle

Eating the City

Hatchling

A First-Rate Material

It was a holiday, and I was enjoying chatting with two girlfriends from university days over afternoon tea. Through the window, the gray office buildings of the business district sat beneath a cloudless sky. Reservations at this hotel lobby tearoom were hard to come by, and it was thronged with a female clientele. An elegant white-haired lady with a deep purple stole across her shoulders daintily carried a piece of tart to her mouth. At the table next to us, some girls with colorful painted nails were taking photos of their cakes. One of them spilled apricot jam on her white cardigan and hastily started wiping it off with a pink handkerchief.

Yumi opened the menu and ordered a second cup of tea, then noticed the sweater I was wearing.

Hey, Nana, that sweater . . . is it human hair?

Oh, can you tell? I beamed at her, nodding. Yes, one hundred percent.

Fantastic! It must have been expensive.

Yeah, a bit . . . I took out a loan. But it’ll last me for life, I answered rather bashfully, lightly running my fingertips over the garment. The jet-black hair was closely knitted into rows of braids, with an intricate weave at the cuffs and neck, and it glistened alluringly in the rays of light shining in through the lobby windows. Even though it was mine, it was so beautiful, and I gazed at it, enraptured.

Aya was eyeing it enviously too. A hundred percent human hair is just the thing for winter! Warm, durable, and luxurious. My sweater contains some too, but it’s so expensive I could only afford it mixed with wool. But human hair really does feel completely different, doesn’t it?

Thanks. It’s too special to wear every day, and normally I keep it safely stored away, but today I really wanted to dress up—it’s the first time we’ve seen each other for ages, and coming to a hotel, too.

Really? But now that you’ve bought it, it’s such a waste not to wear it more, Yumi said.

Aya agreed. Expensive clothes are not meant to simply decorate your closet, you know. You have to put them to good use! Nana, you’re engaged to be married now, aren’t you? Human hair is just the thing to wear for formal occasions, like meeting your future in-laws.

I toyed with my teacup. Well, yes, but . . . I said in a small voice. You see, my fiancé doesn’t really like clothes made from human hair.

Whaaat? Aya’s eyes widened in bewilderment. Why on earth not? I can’t understand that!

I can’t either, but it’s not just human hair—he doesn’t like any fashion accessories or furnishings made from human materials, I said, forcing a smile.

You’re kidding! Shocked, Yumi put the macaroon she’d been about to put in her mouth back on her plate and looked at me dubiously. So, what about bone rings? Tooth earrings?

He can’t stand them. We’re talking about making our wedding rings platinum, too.

Aya and Yumi looked at each other.

Really? But wedding rings made from front teeth are the best!

Nana, your fiancé’s a banker, isn’t he? He must be well-off, so isn’t he just being stingy?

No, I don’t think it’s that . . . I answered vaguely, and smiled. I couldn’t explain it very well myself.

Aya nodded triumphantly. Yes, there are people like that who are loaded but just don’t understand fashion . . . but Naoki’s always so well-dressed, I’d never have expected it of him. When it comes to your wedding rings, though, I’d discuss that with him a bit more. After all, they’re what you’ll be using to pledge your eternal love for each other. She raised her teacup to her mouth. On her left hand was a ring made from pure white bone, her wedding ring, made from a fibula for her marriage last year, and it looked really good on her slender finger. I still clearly remembered how envious I’d felt when she’d happily shown it off to me, even while explaining that it was considerably cheaper than tooth.

I surreptitiously stroked my ring finger. The truth was that I did want a ring made from either tooth or bone. I’d talked about this any number of times with Naoki, and I knew better than anyone how futile it was.

Look, go once more to the shop together. If he can just see what it looks like on his finger, he’ll change his mind, you know.

I gave a little nod, looked down to avoid their eyes, and reached for the now-cold scone on my plate.

I’d just said goodbye to Aya and Yumi when I felt my cell phone vibrate. I took it from my bag and saw that an email had arrived from Naoki, who’d had to go in to work even though it was a holiday.

Got away earlier than I thought. How about coming over?

Okay, I replied, and got on a subway headed for his place.

He lived in a neighborhood close to where he worked, with office blocks alongside conveniently located residential condos. Once we were married, we planned to move to a new house in the suburbs, where there was a more natural environment better suited to kids. I was looking forward to living there, but felt a little sad at the thought that I wouldn’t be returning to this neighborhood, where I’d spent so much time over the five years we’d been dating.

I rang the bell, and Naoki’s amiable voice came through the interphone telling me to come in, so I opened the door with my key.

He must have only just arrived home since he was still in his shirt and tie, with a cardigan over his shoulders, and was turning on the underfloor heating.

I bought dinner on the way, I said. It’s cold outside, so I thought hotpot would be good.

Sounds great, thanks. How were the girls?

They’re both fine. They gave us an engagement present.

I passed him the bag containing the pair of wineglasses from Aya and Yumi, put down my purse and the bag of groceries, and took off my duffle coat. His smile instantly vanished, replaced by a scowl.

Seeing the undisguised revulsion on his face, I remembered that I was still wearing the sweater.

Didn’t I tell you not to wear human hair? he said in a low voice, avoiding my eyes, his face turned away from me so forcefully I thought his neck might snap as he plonked himself onto the couch.

Um, well, I hadn’t seen my friends for ages, and I wanted to impress them. I haven’t worn it at all lately, and I thought it wouldn’t do any harm to wear it just this once.

You should throw it away. You promised me you wouldn’t wear it. Have you gone back on your word?

But I haven’t even paid off the loan yet. I promised I wouldn’t wear it in front of you, but I never said I wouldn’t ever wear it again. Why am I being told off for wearing something I bought with my own money?

I choked up in spite of myself, and Naoki avoided looking at me as he drummed his fingers irritably on the floor.

It gives me the creeps.

But why? It’s no different from your hair, or mine. It’s more natural for us than hair from any other animal—it’s a material really close to us.

Yeah, that’s exactly why it creeps me out, he spat, picking up a packet of cigarettes and a small ashtray from the side table.

Naoki hardly ever smoked, and he only ever reached for his cigarettes when he was really stressed and irritable and needed to calm himself down. I always did my best to comfort him whenever he lit up after work, complaining about being tired, but this time it was my fault he was feeling like this—just because of what I was wearing, I thought miserably.

You’re going to Miho’s shop to look at new furniture tomorrow, aren’t you? he said, puffing out smoke. I can’t go along, so I’ll leave it up to you, but let’s get one thing straight—if you choose even just one item made from human products, I won’t marry you. Teeth, bones, and skin are all out. Otherwise I’ll break off the engagement.

Talk about a unilateral decision. What could be more normal than making people into clothes or furniture after they die? How come you’ve got such an aversion to it?

It’s sacrilegious! I can’t believe you’re so unfazed by using items hacked from dead bodies.

Is using other animals any better? This is a precious and noble aspect of the workings of our advanced life-form—not wasting the bodies of people when they die, or at least having one’s own body still being useful. Can’t you see how wonderful it is? There are so many parts that can be reused as furniture, and it’s a waste to throw them away . . . isn’t that more sacrilegious?

No, it isn’t, Naoki retorted. What’s wrong with everyone? It’s crazy. Look at this! he said, ripping out his necktie pin and throwing it to the floor. "It’s made from fingernails pulled from someone’s body. A dead body! It’s grotesque. Horrifying!"

Stop! Don’t break it! If you hate it so much, why do you wear it?

It’s an engagement gift from my boss. It’s revolting—even just touching it makes my skin crawl.

I held back my tears and yelled, It’s not like using human material is uncivilized. It’s far more heartless to just burn it all!

That’s enough!

We always ended up fighting over this issue. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why Naoki was so averse to wearing or using anything human.

I’m sorry, I said. I’ll throw it away. I took off the sleek black sweater and, stifling my sobs, scrunched it up and stuffed it into the kitchen garbage can. As I stood there in my silk undershirt feeling miserable, I felt Naoki put his arms around me from behind.

I’m sorry I got so emotional. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make you understand, but somehow I find human hair sweaters and bone cutlery and furniture terrifying.

Naoki’s slim arms rubbed gently against me. His body was enveloped in a soft cashmere cardigan. I couldn’t understand why he thought human hair was so wrong when goat hair was fine. But I noticed his hands were trembling slightly and said in a small voice, I’m sorry, I was wrong—especially since I knew you didn’t like it.

No. I’m wrong for making you put up with me, he murmured weakly, burying his face in my shoulder. I just can’t understand why everyone is okay with something so barbaric. Cats or dogs or rabbits would never do anything like this. Normal animals don’t make sweaters or lamps out of the dead bodies of their fellow creatures. I just want to be like other animals and do what’s right . . .

I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, and gently stroked the cashmere-enveloped arms that clung to me. Turning to face him, I hugged his hunched-over body to me and rubbed his back. He relaxed a little and sighed, his cold lips touching my neck. With his face buried in my neck, I kept on stroking his backbone for the longest time.

When I told Miho that I’d decided I wouldn’t consider any furnishings made from human material, her eyes widened.

No way! You’re telling me that even with your ­budget, you’re not going to buy the shinbone chair or the rib-cage table or the finger bone clock or the dried stomach lampshade?

Nope.

Not even the display cabinet of teeth strung together? The warm rug made with human hair?

No. I don’t want Naoki to suffer. Our house should be somewhere we can both feel comfortable.

Frowning, Miho closed the catalogs she’d spread out in front of me. I wish I didn’t have to say this, she said in a low voice, but don’t you think Naoki’s sick? How come he’s so neurotic about human materials?

I don’t know. It’s probably got something to do with having had a bad relationship with his father when he was little.

He ought to get some counseling. It’s abnormal. In any case, one day we’ll all be turned into sweaters or clocks or lamps when we die. We humans are also materials—and that’s wonderful!

Miho was right, but I shook my head. I agree with you, but . . . anyway, for now I intend to furnish our house in a way that won’t cause any distress for Naoki.

Miho finally seemed to understand that I wasn’t going to budge, and she sighed. Okay, okay. But it’s such a waste when, with your budget, you could get some fabulous furniture. Oh well, I guess we’ll go with this dining table and chairs that don’t have any human bone in them.

Thanks.

I really recommend that chandelier with scales made from human nails for your living room, but I suppose we’re going to have to settle for this glass one.

Yes, if I may.

Sighing, Miho went on sticking Post-it notes in the catalog as we decided on each item.

I wonder why other animals don’t reuse the bodies of their own dead, I said.

Beats me. But the female praying mantis eats the male, doesn’t she? It totally makes sense. I think there are some animals that know to make good use of their dead.

Really? I guess . . .

Nana, aren’t you being poisoned by Naoki?

Of course not. But I don’t really understand what he means by ‘barbaric.’ That’s what he says about using human products. But I think it’s more barbaric to burn everything without reusing the materials. We use the same word to condemn each other’s values. I wonder if we can really carry on like this . . .

Well, I really couldn’t say. But Nana, you’re doing your best to understand him, aren’t you? If you’re willing to make mutual concessions, you’ll definitely be able to work things out together, she said warmly, and I gave a sigh of relief.

"Okay