Journey Under the Midnight Sun

by Keigo Higashino

  ‘I wanted to sleep more, but the noise woke me up.’

  ‘Noise?’ Taeko said with a curious frown. Then she nodded. ‘Ah, your father. Yes, he’s been getting up early these days.’

  ‘It’s stupid. Why does anyone get up so early?’

  ‘Well, they’re both very busy, you know, and this is the only time they have together. Besides, exercise is good thing, I think.’

  ‘He never would’ve been caught dead doing that when Mom was alive.’

  ‘People change as they get older, you know.’

  ‘Change how? Like they start marrying younger women? She’s ten years younger than Mom was.’

  ‘Mika, your father is still quite young himself. He can’t live the rest of his life alone, can he? You’ll go off and get married someday and your brother will leave, too.’

  ‘You’re not making much sense, Taeko. Talking about people getting old and then still being young.’

  Taeko frowned a little. ‘Come down soon, breakfast is ready. Your father said he’s not going to give you any more rides in the morning, even if it looks like you’re going to be late.’

  Mika snorted. ‘Bet I know whose idea that was.’

  Taeko said nothing and started to leave, but Mika stopped her before she had fully closed the door.

  ‘You’re on my side, right?’ she asked.

  Taeko looked taken aback for a moment before recovering with a chuckle. ‘I’m on everyone’s side, dear,’ she said, closing the door.

  Mika got ready for school and went downstairs to find the other three already at breakfast. Her father and Yukiho were sitting facing her and Masahiro, her brother, was in the chair next to hers. He was in fifth grade.

  ‘I still don’t feel like I know what I’m doing,’ Yukiho was saying. ‘I have to get the hang of at least the driver, or I’m going to be a real menace out there on the course.’

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s always easier than it looks. Also, you say at least the driver, but the driver’s the toughest one. Use that well and you’re a pro. First step is to just get out there and try a round on the course.’

  ‘I don’t know, I’d be pretty worried,’ Yukiho said with a shrug. She looked over at Mika. ‘Hey there, good morning.’

  Mika sat down without answering. Her father said ‘good morning,’ adding a stern look. She muttered a half-hearted ‘good morning’ back.

  Ham, scrambled eggs, salad and croissants were spread out on the table.

  ‘Wait just a bit, Mika, and I’ll bring your soup,’ Taeko said from the kitchen. It sounded like she was in there busily preparing something.

  Yukiho set down her fork and stood from the table. ‘That’s OK, Taeko. I’ll get it.’

  ‘I don’t want soup,’ Mika said, grabbing a croissant and tearing off a bite. Then she snatched the milk glass from in front of Masahiro and took a swig.

  ‘Hey, that’s mine.’

  ‘Don’t be stingy.’

  Picking up her fork, Mika dug into her ham and eggs. A bowl of soup appeared in front of her plate, courtesy of Yukiho.

  ‘I said I didn’t want any,’ Mika said, not looking up.

  ‘That’s not how you talk to someone who does something for you,’ her dad said.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Yukiho said to her husband and an uncomfortable silence settled over the table.

  Mika couldn’t taste the food at all. Not even Taeko’s ham and eggs, which was her favourite. And eating wasn’t any fun. Her chest hurt near the top of her stomach.

  ‘So, any plans tonight?’ her father said to Yukiho, taking a sip of his coffee.

  ‘Nothing in particular.’

  ‘Then we should go out for dinner, the four of us. A friend of mine just opened an Italian restaurant in Yotsuya, and he’s been asking me to come.’

  ‘Italian? That sounds lovely.’

  ‘You too, kids. If there’s a show you want to watch, you can set the VCR.’

  ‘Cool,’ Masahiro said. ‘I’ll go easy on the snacks.’

  Mika took a sidelong glance at her brother and said, ‘I’m not going.’

  She could feel the eyes on her from across the table.

  ‘Why not?’ her father asked. ‘You have something you need to do? There’s no piano lessons today and no tutor scheduled.’

  ‘I just don’t want to go. What, is this mandatory?’

  ‘Why don’t you want to go?’

  ‘Why does it matter?’

  ‘Because it matters. Look, if you have something you want to say, let’s hear it.’

  ‘Dear…’ Yukiho said. ‘Actually, maybe tonight isn’t the best idea. I’ve just remembered a few things that need doing.’

  Her father glared at her, but fell silent. Yukiho’s coming to her defence annoyed Mika even more. Throwing down her fork, she stood. ‘I gotta go.’

  ‘Mika!’

  Ignoring her father, Mika grabbed her bag and jacket and went out into the hall. She was slipping into her shoes when Yukiho and Taeko came up behind her.

  ‘Don’t be in such a hurry that you get run over by a car, now,’ Taeko fretted.

  Yukiho reached down and picked her jacket up off the floor. Mika snatched it from her without a word. She was just putting her arms through the sleeves when Yukiho said with a smile to Taeko, ‘I like that navy sweater, it’s cute.’

  ‘Very cute,’ Taeko agreed.

  ‘They make school uniforms so stylish these days. Back when I was in school we only got one choice and that was it.’

  Mika felt the anger rise in her chest, though she didn’t understand why. She took off the jacket. While Yukiho and Taeko watched, dumbfounded, she peeled off her Ralph Lauren sweater and tossed it on the floor.

  ‘Mika, what’re you doing?’ Taeko asked.

  ‘I don’t feel like wearing it any more.’

  ‘You’ll be cold.’

  ‘I don’t care.’

  Her father came out and asked, ‘What are you going on about now?’

  ‘Nothing. Bye.’

  ‘Wait, Miss Mika!’ Taeko said, but she could hear her father grunt ‘Let her go,’ behind her back as Mika ran for the front gate. The long, tree-lined path between their front door and the gate was one of her favourite spots in the whole world. Sometimes she lingered on it just so she could look at the trees, and the flowers, and note the changing of the seasons. But today, it seemed much too great a distance between her and freedom.

  Mika couldn’t say what bothered her so much. Every time she lost her temper with Yukiho, another Mika inside her head would ask, coldly, Are you crazy? And she would always answer, No. I don’t know. I’m just angry.

  She’d first met Yukiho that spring when her father had taken her and her brother to the boutique in South Aoyama. She remembered seeing a woman come to the door and thinking Wow, she’s pretty. Her father said he wanted to buy his children new clothes, and Yukiho immediately began ordering her helpers around, bringing outfit after outfit for them to try on. There were no other customers in the place. It was like having their own private fitting boutique.

  Yukiho treated them like fashion models, giving them various outfits to wear and try on in front of the mirror. Masahiro lasted about thirty minutes before he gave up and said he was tired of trying on clothes.

  For Mika it was a dream come true – or it would have been, if she hadn’t spent the entire time wondering who Yukiho was and exactly what kind of relationship she had with her father.

  It was when they were picking out a party dress that she began to suspect that Yukiho might soon have a special relationship not just with her father but with all of them.

  ‘You go to family parties, right, Yasuharu?’ Yukiho said. ‘Take her in this dress and it will positively bowl the other families over.’

  Mika didn’t like how Yukiho referred to her father as Yasuhiro, as though they were close friends. Nor did she like being thought of as an accessory to make other people look good. What bothered her most, however, was the sudden realisation
that Yukiho might be joining them at the next ‘family’ party.

  The discussion turned to what they should buy. Mika couldn’t choose. Truth be told, she wanted it all.

  ‘You decide, Dad,’ she said eventually. ‘I’m good with anything.’

  ‘That’s not making it very easy on me,’ her father complained. Nevertheless, he picked out a few of the outfits. They were all fancy, good-little-girl dresses with long skirts that covered up the skin, the kind of things Mika’s mother liked. Mika’s mother had never really got over playing with dolls, and loved dressing her up in the most ridiculously frilly outfits. It made Mika happy to see that her father remembered.

  After he was done, her father asked Yukiho what she thought.

  Yukiho crossed her arms. ‘I think she could get away with something a little brighter, a little more vigorous.’

  ‘Really? Which would you choose?’

  ‘Well…’ Yukiho said, pointing to a few of the other outfits, all of them tighter-fitting, with shorter skirts. They bordered on racy.

  ‘She’s still in middle school,’ her father said. ‘Aren’t these a little grown-up for her?’

  Yukiho smiled. ‘Oh, she’s more grown-up than you think.’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ her father said, scratching his head. He asked Mika what she thought.

  Mika left it up to him, so her father decided to buy all the ones Yukiho picked, warning her that he’d hold her responsible if they didn’t look good.

  ‘Not to worry,’ she told him, and smiled at Mika. ‘You don’t have to be a little doll any more, dear.’

  The words felt like boots, stepping on something in Mika’s heart, trying to rub out the memory of her mother. Thinking back on it, she realised that was the moment she started to hate Yukiho.

  Later, their father would occasionally take Mika and Masahiro out to eat with him and Yukiho, or go on long drives together. Mika always thought her father was unusually bright and cheerful when they were with her. On family trips with her mother, he had always been silent, an unwilling participant, but in front of Yukiho, it was like he couldn’t stop talking. He always wanted to ask Yukiho’s opinion, to do the things she wanted to do. To Mika, he looked like a wimp.

  One day in July their father laid the news on them. It wasn’t a discussion or an opinion poll. It was an announcement: he was going to marry Yukiho.

  Masahiro seemed a little spaced out by the news. He wasn’t particularly happy, or concerned. Maybe, Mika thought, it just wasn’t that big a deal to him. He had only been four years old when their mom died.

  Mika had been honest. She said her only real mother was the one who had died seven years before.

  ‘That’s fine,’ her father told her. ‘I’m not telling you to forget your mother. I’m just telling you, a new person is coming to live with us. We’ll have more family now.’

  Mika was silent, but in her heart she was screaming she’s not family!

  Once that particular stone began to roll, there was no stopping it. Everything went the way Mika didn’t want it to go. Her father was beside himself with happiness and she despised him for it. He seemed lesser now in her eyes, a fallen man, and Yukiho was to blame.

  If someone had asked her exactly what she didn’t like about Yukiho, Mika would have had a hard time naming it. It was just a feeling, a twisted lump in the pit of her stomach. There was no denying that Yukiho was beautiful, and smart, too. Mika respected that. She was a talented businesswoman. Mika didn’t know any other women her age who ran not just one, but two boutiques. But when she was around her, she could feel her body tense. Something inside her warned her that she needed to be on guard. There was something about Yukiho, an aura hanging around her, that was unlike anything she’d felt before. She was like the sun, with her father and her assistants orbiting around her, but her light brought no warmth, just unhappiness.

  Mika admitted the possibility that these thoughts were nothing more than her imagination. But if she was delusional, at least she had one person keeping her company: her older cousin, Kazunari Shinozuka.

  Ever since her father had announced his engagement to the family, Kazunari had started visiting them at home. Out of all of their relatives, he was the only one who had spoken out against the wedding.

  ‘You don’t know what she’s really like,’ Kazunari had said once when Mika overheard them talking. ‘At the very least, I can promise you she’s not the kind of woman who puts the happiness of her family first.’ He had sounded very serious.

  But her father never listened, and, over time, he began avoiding Kazunari. She’d even seen him pretending not to be home once or twice when Kazunari came calling.

  The wedding took place three months later. It wasn’t a very fancy ceremony, and the reception was very laid-back, but they looked happy, as did nearly everyone in attendance. Everyone except Mika, who was filled with the gloomy bleakness of someone seeing a tragedy in the making, a terrible mistake that couldn’t be undone.

  They started their new life with a new mother in their house and, from the outside, it didn’t look like much had changed in the Shinozuka household. But Mika could feel things shifting under the surface every day. One by one her memories of her real mother were being smothered. Their daily lives were changing bit by bit. And worst of all, her father was becoming a different person.

  Her real mother had loved flowers. She always put seasonal arrangements in the entranceway, the hallway, and the corners of the rooms. There were flowers there now, too, bigger, and even more beautiful – eye-opening displays of floral magnificence.

  But they weren’t real. They were all expertly crafted from silk. Artificial flowers.

  That’s what this family is becoming, Mika thought. An artificial flower.

  Sasagaki got off the Tozai Subway Line at Urayasu and began walking back towards Tokyo along Kasaibashi Street, taking a left just before he reached the Old Edogawa River. Along the narrow road stood a nearly perfectly square, white building, with a sign on the gate that read SH RESINS. There didn’t seem to be a guard, so Sasagaki let himself in.

  Cutting across a car park lined with trucks, he entered the building. Immediately on the right stood a small reception desk where a woman in her forties was busily writing something. She looked up and frowned suspiciously when she saw Sasagaki.

  Sasagaki handed her his business card, and asked to meet Kazunari Shinozuka. The woman’s expression didn’t change when she saw the card. ‘You have an appointment to meet the director?’ she asked.

  ‘The director?’

  ‘Kazunari Shinozuka. He’s our director.’

  ‘Oh, right. Yes. I called before I came.’

  ‘Wait please.’

  She picked up a phone on the desk and dialled some numbers. After a few words, she set the receiver down and looked back at Sasagaki. ‘He says please come straight to his office.’