I clenched my fists. I’d expected him to confess, but hearing it with my own ears made my anger surge. “So you’re the one who killed her.”
He turned to me, eyes wide. “No, you’re mistaken. I mean . . .” He looked down and shook his head. “Why would I—” His voice cracked. “I had no reason to do that.”
“I can think of a thousand reasons for you to have murdered her.”
“Let’s get this straight. I didn’t kill your sister. I was in Kyoto that night.”
I hesitated. If this was a lie, it would be the easiest kind to expose. But if he was telling the truth, the next likeliest person was . . .
“Was it your wife?”
He didn’t answer.
“Is that why she disappeared?”
Mr. Nakajima laced his fingers together on his lap. “Since we’ve come to this, it might be better for me to give you the full account of what happened.”
I couldn’t believe he was so composed about it. “Go on,” I said.
“First of all, I never asked Keiko to terminate the pregnancy. From the beginning, I made it clear to her that I would support whatever decision she made, and she chose to keep the child. Unfortunately, though, she lost the baby due to health complications in her second trimester.”
A miscarriage? I wondered how my sister could have suffered through this without saying anything.
“I know I wasn’t entirely blameless,” he continued. “The stress from hiding the pregnancy and the numerous confrontations with my wife might have been contributing factors.”
“She fought with your wife?”
He nodded. “We were trying to discuss our options.”
I dug my fingernails into my palms. Had he just said “options”? “What kind of options could a married man possibly give his pregnant lover?”
“I wanted to marry Keiko,” he continued. “I’d proposed an amicable separation with my wife a number of times, but she wouldn’t agree to it.”
I stared at him. “That’s why your wife killed my sister, isn’t it?”
“What makes you think it was my wife? It could have been anyone.”
“Like who?” I scoffed. “Your daughter?”
It was an absurd accusation. We both knew Seven Stars would never do something so vicious, but his placid tone infuriated me.
Mr. Nakajima put his hands on his knees. “Who killed Keiko, and why, to be completely honest, I don’t know for sure. But I’ve come to share the same conclusion as you. My wife went missing on the day Keiko was murdered.”
“I don’t see that as mere coincidence.”
“Neither do I,” he said. “I even thought of taking the blame, so my wife could return to a normal life with Rio. After all, I was the one who started this mess. But I was at a friend’s wedding that night. A lot of people saw me there.”
I wondered how much I could trust this man, who had already told so many lies. He could simply have killed his wife to cover his tracks and pretended she’d disappeared.
“Your sister was wonderful. I loved watching her cook. She told me she used to cook for her younger brother. Who would’ve thought that one day I would get to meet you?”
I felt a sharp pain in my chest, hearing him talk about my sister that way.
“What happened to Keiko was a nightmare—something I never would’ve expected. She didn’t deserve it. Everything was my fault. I was the one who pursued her, and she was the one who ended up suffering the most. The hurt I’ve caused you and your family . . . there’s no way I can ever atone for it. I will carry this burden for the rest of my life.”
Since he’d given up his attempts to hide anything, I was at a loss as to what to say next. I ended up asking him, “Did you love my sister?”
He looked straight at me. “Yes, I did. Of course I did.”
“Is that why you don’t have any photographs of your wife’s face?”
“No, that has nothing to do with Keiko. My wife never liked to be photographed. She had an accident when she was young that left her with a scar on her face. It was just a tiny scar above her left eye, but she was self-conscious about it.” He looked down. “Sorry for blabbing—this probably isn’t what you want to hear.”
“You speak as if you love your wife,” I said.
He nodded. “I do love her.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you were in love with two women at the same time?”
Mr. Nakajima paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “If you were to ask me long ago, before I’d met Keiko, I would’ve said it was impossible. Even now, I’d like to think the feelings I had for Keiko were different from the feelings I had for my wife. It would be easier to dismiss what happened with your sister as a momentary lapse in judgment, rather than to admit that my marriage was the mistake. But I can’t say that. I did love Keiko, and I still do, and probably always will. Does that make sense to you, Mr. Ishida?”
“My opinion isn’t important,” I said.
He sighed. “In the beginning, I thought I could carry on without hurting anyone. Now that I think about it properly, even though she didn’t say anything, Keiko was probably hurting badly.”
He looked at me as if expecting a response, but I maintained my silence and kept my eyes fixed on him.
“Eventually, my wife found out,” he continued. “It was a huge blow to her. She was always emotionally fragile. Please understand, she’s a victim too, and I should be the one to blame. What my wife did, or at least what I think she did, is unforgivable, but she’s not a monster. She—”
“Please, stop these excuses.” I cut in. I didn’t want to hear any more of this nonsense. “My sister is dead, and that makes your wife a murderer. That’s the truth.”
My words shut him up. Keeping his head low, he tapped his fingers on the edge of the table. I thought about Seven Stars and her erratic behavior—skipping class, stealing, staying out at night. Did he notice that she was affected by her mother’s disappearance? Did he know how he had harmed his daughter?
“Other than what you’ve told me, is there anything else I need to know?” I asked.
“Mr. Ishida, if you’re planning to report this to the police, I’m afraid nobody knows her whereabouts. I have told some people my wife returned to her parents’ house, but she’s actually an orphan.”
“That’s not my intention,” I said. “Even if the police managed to find your wife and throw her in jail, that wouldn’t bring my sister back.” And it would be disrespectful to make known the affair and the pregnancy she had gone to such pains to keep to herself.
Mr. Nakajima kept his head down.
“Do you have anything else to say?” I asked, standing up.
He looked up at me. “This entire time, I’ve wanted to tell you all of this. Ever since the first time you came to this house . . . No, even before that. When I first saw you from afar at Keiko’s funeral, I wanted to walk up to you and tell you the truth. But you were sitting next to her coffin with empty eyes, and knowing how much she meant to you, I just couldn’t—”
“Enough!” I shouted. “Don’t you dare talk about my relationship with my sister.” I took a deep breath to calm myself. “You know nothing about us.”
He hung his head again.
There was a long pause before I finally said, “I’ll be taking my leave.”
“Hold on a moment.” He stood up too. “May I apologize to you on behalf of my wife?”
“No. You can only apologize for yourself.”
He climbed down onto his knees and bowed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what I did, for what happened to Keiko, and for causing your family such grief.”
I clenched my jaw. I had no forgiveness for this man. Even if he was truly sorry, what good did it do now? The dead would remain dead. If anything, he was sorry for himself, hoping to find closure. He wou
ldn’t get that from me.
“You’ve got the wrong person,” I said. “You should be apologizing to the women you have hurt, not me. But if what you’ve said is true, both of them are gone.”
Mr. Nakajima didn’t respond. He didn’t budge from his position, and I left the house without touching the coffee.
To be honest, I hated the man. I wanted to beat him senseless, but it would only disgrace my sister’s memory and offer him atonement. I didn’t want him to think he could pay for his mistakes by taking punishment. Let him drown in guilt instead.
As much as I wanted his wife to be caught, I couldn’t bring myself to go to the police. I still felt the instinct to protect Seven Stars, who’d done nothing wrong and had now lost her mother. Her parents’ actions going public could ruin her life, and Mr. Nakajima’s involvement in everything could remove her father, her only remaining family. I knew how hard it had been to grow up alone, eating alone at a table for four, going without parents to school ceremonies, having no one to share osechi with on New Year’s . . . The last thing I wanted was to subject Seven Stars to that same loneliness.
And, deep down, I knew I would go to any lengths to protect my sister’s honor, even though I would hate myself for it forever.
I stood at the spot where my sister had been murdered. I had no idea how I’d gotten there. It was as if I’d simply closed my eyes and reopened them on the side of that road.
I was in daze until I heard children chattering behind me. Turning around, I saw two children playing across the street. One was a skinny boy wearing a black leather backpack, and the other was a little girl with pigtails in a dark-blue pinafore.
The little girl looked in my direction, and our eyes met. She smiled before running down the road. The boy called after the girl. I couldn’t make out what he shouted, but I was sure it was her name. The boy was about to run after the girl, but he hesitated and turned to me. We looked at each other. No words were needed. A few seconds later, he ran after the girl. I watched them disappear around the bend.
I took a deep breath and looked one last time at the site.
Keiko Ishida, do you remember the black leather backpack you bought me when I started primary school?
“An acceptance gift?” I asked my sister when she called me into her bedroom and showed me the backpack.
“Yes.” Her eyes gleamed. “You need a new schoolbag.”
“You don’t need to spend your pocket money on me. The bag is expensive. It’s not worth it. Mrs. Kawano said I could have her son’s old backpack.”
“What are you talking about? You can’t start school with an old bag. I won’t allow it.” My sister helped me put on the backpack before leading me to the mirror. “A good bag completes an outfit. Don’t you agree?”
I grinned and muttered a thank-you.
She messed up my hair, and we both laughed.
31
Getting
Sucked
into
a
Tornado
When I told the principal about my intention to return to Tokyo, he didn’t seem surprised. He gave me a pat on the shoulder and said, “If that’s your decision, then I wish you all the best. We’re going to miss you. You’ve been a great help to us these past few months.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Do let me know if there’s anything I can do to help with finding my replacement.”
The principal rearranged his potted plant. “To be honest, I’m a little relieved that you turned us down. It’s better for you to leave this place. Call me superstitious, but the old folks in Akakawa believe the town only accepts those who were born here.”
I had no idea what had driven him to say that, so I simply nodded before taking my leave.
A week before the semester ended, the principal announced that I would be leaving Yotsuba. A few colleagues gave me a handshake and a few others passed me their contact numbers, promising to keep in touch. The vast majority seemed unconcerned.
“It happens pretty often,” Honda said. “Turnover is high for contract staff. People come and go. No one cares, except those who’ll be getting a heavier workload.”
“I hope it’s not you,” I said.
He laughed. “I doubt it. I can’t teach English.”
I hadn’t told anyone I was planning to teach in Tokyo, but somehow it became known that I was going to apply to be a public school teacher.
“When are you leaving?” Honda asked.
I made a mental calculation. “In two weeks.”
“Do you need any help?”
I shook my head, but then I remembered something. “By the way, did you and my sister ever go to an Italian restaurant on the mountain?”
“Yes, we did. It’s a charming little restaurant, about a two-hour drive from here. Are you planning to go? The view is great, but the area’s too windy. Not many people go there.”
Strong wind . . . I could make use of that. “Could you give me directions?” I asked. “I’m thinking of scattering my sister’s ashes there, if the wind is strong enough.”
Honda nodded. “It should be fine. If you’re planning to go this Sunday, I can drive you.”
“Don’t trouble yourself, I can get there on my own.” I didn’t want to burden him with the past.
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all. It might be the last thing I can do for Keiko,” he said. “So, this coming Sunday? I’ll pick you up at ten if that’s okay.”
“Of course,” I answered, secretly glad that someone would be with me when I scattered her ashes. I couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to my sister alone.
After work, I stopped by Izumi’s place. She came out with her hair in a towel, skin still damp from the shower. She had her old-fashioned glasses on.
“Is this a bad time?” I asked.
She grinned. “That depends. What do you want? If you’re going to complain about the water heater, any time is a bad time.”
“It’s nothing like that,” I said, smiling. “I came to bid you farewell. I’m going to be moving out at the end of the month.”
Her eyebrows rose. “That’s next week, isn’t it? Are you going back to Tokyo?”
I nodded.
“I’ll let the landlord know—or rather, his secretary.”
“Thanks a lot, Izumi.”
“No problem,” she said. “Since you’re moving out, too, the fifth floor will be tenantless again.”
“What about the other guy?”
“The songwriter?” She tilted her head. “Didn’t you know he was gone? I guess he moved out when you were at work.”
“I see.” I hadn’t seen that coming. “I only spoke to him once.”
“Trust me, that’s more than most residents here,” she said. “Hey, want to come in and have a drink? I have some beer.”
“I have to pass. I’ve got so many things to pack up.”
Izumi shrugged and closed her door, and I returned to my unit.
Thinking about it, this was the first time I’d rejected a girl’s invitation to drink. It was probably that Izumi still reminded me of my high school’s class rep.
I actually slept with the class rep once. The episode had caused some discord. I could still remember Jin marching over to me during lunch break.
“Is it true?” he asked. “Did you sleep with the class rep?”
The question startled me. I hadn’t told anyone about it, so the news must have disseminated from her. To be fair, I hadn’t asked her to keep it to herself, but I hadn’t thought she would go around talking about it.
“I thought she didn’t like us,” Jin said.
I flipped open my textbook, ignoring him. I knew Jin didn’t like the girl. A few months prior, she’d caught us smoking and ratted us out to the teacher. Or rather, ratted Jin out as the one who was smoking and me as a bystander. The teacher wouldn
’t buy that, so I was punished too.
“Why would you sleep with her, Ren? Did you lose a bet or something?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I was curious.”
Jin put his arm around my shoulders. “That doesn’t sound like you, my friend.”
I shoved him away. “Well, you can decide whether you want to believe me or not.”
“There’s something wrong in your head.”
I kept quiet, and Jin left me alone. But it was the truth. I had been curious. I’d wanted to see what she looked like without her glasses on.
The class rep and I lived in the same neighborhood; her house was only a few blocks from mine. She had walked up to me when I was looking at the comics display at the local bookstore.
“My parents are at a family event in Izu,” she said. “They won’t be back until tomorrow. Want to come over to my place, Ishida?”
I was speechless for a moment. At first, I thought it was a joke, but her expression was serious. I didn’t know what had prompted her to ask me. Maybe something to do with raging teenage hormones.
I scratched my head. “Sonoda . . .”
“It’s Sumida,” she corrected. “My name is Miwako Sumida.”
“Well, Sumida . . .” I leaned toward her. “You know that if I come over, we’re not going to be doing much studying, right?”
The class rep nodded, still unsmiling. After saying that, it would have been weird for me to back down, so I followed her to her house. I remembered feeling nervous as we climbed the wooden stairs, which creaked with each step I took.
She opened her bedroom door. “Please come in.”
“Excuse me,” I said, a little too politely. It sounded awkward.
Her room was neat, just the way I’d imagined it. She walked in and sat on her bed, and I followed suit. Neither of us said anything. She clutched her pillow and I stared at my knees. Her sheets had roses embroidered on them.
The long silence was unbearable. Before that day, we’d never really talked to each other. Just as I was about to attempt small talk, the tips of our fingers touched. I turned to her reflexively. She looked at me too. I could hear her breathing deepen.
Rainbirds Page 24
