Takeda was silent.
“Maybe people can’t change after all.”
“You’re stabbing me in the back when you say that,” a cold voice said beside me.
That voice that held no emotion sounded as if it had been packed with emotions that couldn’t be held back, and I turned away.
Takeda was looking at me with her empty eyes.
“You’re the one who told me that even I might be able to change if I went on living, even the way I am, and you gave me hope.”
I was cut through the heart and left speechless, looking at Takeda’s face.
She was right.
A searing regret welled up in me.
I’d told Takeda that I wanted her to live.
I’d told her that she had to reach a different place than Shuji Kataoka, whose life as a mime behind a mask had come to an end when he took his own life—
Takeda slapped me crisply on the cheek.
These last few days, I’d been slapped by three girls—Kotobuki, Miu, and Takeda.
I stared blankly at her. Takeda looked at me with eyes cloaked in a faint heat, then said, “This time I’ll be the one who teaches you. People change. I want you to come with me now. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Chapter 6—When the World Ends
Where in the world were we going?
Takeda didn’t say a word on the bus. Who was it that she wanted me to meet?
We got off at a stop I didn’t recognize and I followed hesitantly alongside Takeda as she went down a broad walking path.
The sky was dyed with a gentle sunset.
I could feel that the air, which had seemed freezing cold a short while ago, had grown ever so slightly warmer. The weather reports had said that spring was right around the corner.
The area around us had the feel of a growing neighborhood with rows of apartment buildings. All of the buildings were new.
I heard a baby laughing, so I looked in that direction and saw a young mother sitting on a bench in a park lush with trees, apparently on her way home from shopping. She was peeking into a baby carriage at her side, playing with her baby.
The mother’s gaze was placid and kind.
Wait—
I’d seen that woman before.
I didn’t think there were any women I knew who could have had a baby. Her name wouldn’t come to me, either. But I was sure I knew her from somewhere…
Her short-cut hair swayed gently around her slender neck.
The baby reached a hand out of the carriage and she squeezed its fingers gently, a slight smile curving her lips, and she started talking to it.
I looked to my side and saw Takeda had her empty gaze fixed on the mother and baby.
Then the memory of a roof on a clear day in May surfaced in my mind.
“I knew you were the one who killed Shuji. You were S, weren’t you?”
A voice ringing out with denunciation under a piercing blue sky.
Takeda had exposed herself to the murderer who’d revealed his true identity, and she had glared at him and yelled fiercely.
But it had been someone else who Shuji Kataoka called “S.”
She had once been the manager of the archery club and was now someone’s wife and was about to give birth—
Rihoko Sena—
No, Rihoko Soeda!
Of course, that was Rihoko!
She’d cut her hair and looked very different, so I hadn’t been able to tell. Was the baby in that carriage the one who’d been inside her that day? So Rihoko had given birth to the baby!
But where was her husband? Where was Soeda?
My pulse had risen out of shock and panic.
Takeda had been convinced that Rihoko’s husband, Soeda, had been “S,” and she’d sent him threatening letters. Soeda had had an intense inferiority complex about Shuji Kataoka during high school, and he’d stabbed him with a knife on the roof.
But Shuji hadn’t died. Rihoko’s words that “No, you’re no longer human” became a trigger pulled, and he’d thrown himself off the roof.
Rihoko had never told her husband about that.
When she became his wife, she had known that he’d stabbed Shuji and that he’d gotten afraid and tossed the knife away and that he’d fled from the roof, and she’d known about the bleak, helpless emotions Soeda felt for Shuji.
When he heard Rihoko’s confession, Soeda had wept, “It would have been better if I had killed him.”
He had wept, why had she married him when she’d loved Shuji? How was he supposed to live with her now, when they were going to have a child? It would be hell!
Takeda had watched the two of them with cold eyes, like a soulless doll.
“Rihoko.”
All of a sudden, a placid voice called out in our ears.
The sinking sun cast a fresh scarlet over the benches, the swings, the jungle gym.
A long shadow stretched over the ground.
Leather shoes approached leisurely. A gray suit, a light jacket.
Eyes crinkled in a kind smile behind pair of glasses was Soeda.
A sweet smile came into Rihoko’s eyes, too, as she met his gaze.
Soeda bent at the waist and lifted the baby out of the carriage. He brought his face close to it and told it, “I’m home.” The baby laughed loudly.
Rihoko pushed the carriage and Soeda carried the baby, walking toward us talking in low voices.
Rihoko was the first to notice.
She saw us and murmured, “Oh,” and then Soeda turned his eyes toward us, too, and a look of surprise came over his face.
Takeda smiled innocently, like a puppy.
“Hello. We were in the area, so I thought I’d come with Konoha. You told me before that you come to this park a lot with Nozomi to wait for her dad.”
Rihoko and Soeda’s faces both softened.
“Only when he comes home early.”
“If I came home at this hour every day, I wouldn’t be able to feed my family.”
They both had placid eyes, as if they were completely different people from the day I’d met them on the roof. The baby was making noises and squirming in Soeda’s arms.
“Inoue…”
Soeda looked at me, and his face became apologetic.
“I did something truly inexcusable to you. Something was wrong with me that day. You looked like Shuji and… I’m sorry.”
My heart skipped a beat, and I shook my head quickly.
“Forget it ever happened. So you named your baby Nozomi, huh? It’s a girl?”
Soeda’s eyes calmed. He looked down at the baby as if he was gazing at something he couldn’t help but treasure.
“Yes. She brought us together.”
His tone was visceral, as if savoring the thought. Soeda told us about everything that had happened.
How it had hurt him to even see Rihoko’s face for a while, and he hadn’t returned home for several days in a row.
Even after her due date approached and Rihoko went back to her parents’ home in Niigata, he never once went to see her.
Rihoko talked, too.
How she’d been extremely uneasy before Nozomi was born.
How she’d been at the point of giving up, sure that she would never be able to repair her relationship with her husband.
Even after Nozomi was born he didn’t come to the hospital. She was nearly crushed, sure that it was truly over between them, and she’d been unable to sleep at night.
The day she was released, Soeda was standing outside the hospital.
“Honestly, I’d gone there to talk about getting a divorce. But when I saw Rihoko holding Nozomi against her chest—when Nozomi turned to me and her face lit up—my feet carried me to them naturally and I hugged them both together. It was then that I could finally believe we would all share our lives.”
Tears were forming in Rihoko’s eyes, as well.
“I knew it, too—that we were going to be able to be a family.”
Somethin
g warm welled up from deep in my chest.
It made my heart rock wildly.
That day at the beginning of summer—as Soeda wept on his knees on the roof, Rihoko had gone on murmuring to him, her face calm, as if all emotion had dropped from her.
“We will live the rest of our lives in hell. It’s not so bad; as long as you’re prepared for it, you can live anywhere.”
“We’ll go on with our peaceful, everyday lives, forever thinking about Kataoka, forever his prisoners. We’ll have this child and raise it. We’ll live in hell from now on. That will be our atonement to him.”
Rihoko had told him, “We will live… in hell.”
When she’d uttered those words that day, Rihoko had been terrifying.
But she’d been suffering for a long time, too.
The crime wouldn’t go away. They couldn’t pretend that the wrong they’d perpetrated had never happened. She’d said that they had to live normally and at peace even so, embracing that suffering and pain.
Only now did I understand, to the point of trembling, that those words had revealed Rihoko’s resolve.
And then also, why Takeda had brought me here.
“People change.
“… This time I’ll be the one who teaches you.”
The couple who had been plunged into the utter darkness of despair, distrust, and atonement were spending their days peacefully, carrying the burden of their sinful past.
Even knocked flat, gouged out, and defeated—as long as you’re alive, change will come. If you grit your teeth, set your resolve, and take one step forward—
Takeda, who had wept for me to let her die, also peeked into Nozomi’s face and smiled brightly.
It may have been a false smile, desperately constructed; even so, she was smiling—normally, happily.
My heart churned at that smile. That someday she would be able to make the lie true—
We were invited to dinner and politely declined; then we retraced the road we had come by.
As we waited for the bus at the stop, illuminated by the light of a streetlamp, Takeda said with a cold face, “You won’t stay knocked down forever, either, Konoha.”
Then she added starkly, “Ryu, either…”
She thought about it a little, then shook her head.
“No… maybe Ryu will be down forever. But… when I destroyed my heart, he was nice to me… I’ll be able to do that without a second thought, with nothing to gain… When he’s sad or lonely, I’ll be nice and spoil him. I’ll smile from the heart, happy…”
Takeda’s voice grew softer and softer until finally she fell silent.
Maybe Takeda’s feelings for Ryuto were slowly changing, too.
That’s what I thought, but I didn’t say it. Takeda would probably realize it for herself someday.
Though maybe she already had…
I had to change, too.
After school the next day, I went with Akutagawa to visit Miu at the hospital.
Miu was going to be released next month.
“I’m shocked to get a visit from you, Konoha. Did you come to ask me to mediate between you and Kotobuki?”
She sat beside the bed and looked up at me teasingly. When I offered her the gift I’d brought of black tea pudding from the store she liked, her face shone with a little excitement.
“You’ve come to see me before, right? So this time I thought I’d come see you.”
At that she smiled even more excitedly and accepted the pudding.
“Hmmph. I see.”
“Thanks. For coming to see me again. I wanted to tell you that. And that you’ve changed. Uh, I mean that in a good way obviously.”
“Is that all?”
“Huh?”
“For something like that, you have to say, ‘You’re so much more charming than before.’ Flatter me.”
“Oh, uh… sorry.”
“Don’t apologize when I tell you that! Geez, you’re as blind as ever to how girls feel. That’s why you’re burning through Kotobuki’s patience.”
“You’re pushing it, Asakura.”
“You’re such a nag, Kazushi. Be quiet and eat some pudding or something.”
Miu roughly shoved one of the puddings I’d brought at Akutagawa’s chest.
Then she peeled back the lid of a pudding, too, and still fuming, she scooped some up with a plastic spoon and started to eat.
“Why am I surrounded by worthless guys?”
After that complaint, she suddenly turned her eyes away and her tone of voice became awkward.
“But… I wanted to apologize, too. For going too far before. So I’m glad you came today.”
Miu’s cheeks were red.
After fidgeting hesitantly for a bit, she held some pudding out to me, too, told me to eat it, and then continued speaking curtly.
“You know, Konoha, the novel you wrote really did hurt me. If you hadn’t written that novel and applied for the new author prize, I might never have experienced that level of despair. I might still have been at your side, deceiving you… hating and loving your stupidity and innocence. But you know, Konoha.”
Still holding her pudding, Miu looked up at me.
Her eyes were straightforward and filled with the sincere desire to tell me this here and now.
“Your novel also saved me.
“When I heard the real final scene that you’d written for me in that planetarium, it felt as if the hatred and sadness in my heart were melting away. I thought, Aaah, I’ve wanted Konoha to say this to me for so long.
“The words you gave me were very, very beautiful. I’m sure that I’ll think of them when I’m having a hard time in the future. And then I’ll be able to keep fighting.”
Light shone into my heart like sunlight through trees.
The words Miu spoke had also tolled a bell of warm celebration over me.
My lips curved into a smile.
Someone’s words could make me this happy and give me strength.
“Thank you. This is the first time I can be glad I wrote that novel. Thanks to you, Miu.”
Miu turned her face away in embarrassment again.
“Hurry up and eat your pudding. Geez. And what are you doing just holding your pudding and spacing out, Kazushi?”
“… Asakura.” With a serious face, Akutagawa informed her, “I can’t eat it without a spoon.”
“—Urk. You’ve got to speak up about stuff like that sooner!”
“Sorry. You were telling a nice story, so I didn’t have a chance to interrupt.”
“Argh! You should have just taken one and not said anything, then.”
Miu threw the entire bag with the spoons in it at Akutagawa. He took a spoon out and handed it to me.
Apparently Miu had secured permission from her parents to live on her own. Akutagawa was apparently going with her to look for apartments. It turned out that Akutagawa’s requirements were even more exacting than Miu’s, and she was the one who was actually going to live in the apartment. He complained that it had to have automatic locks, that she needed surveillance cameras, that that place was close to a slot parlor and didn’t seem safe, and she wasn’t making any decisions, so it was getting to be a lot of trouble and he was getting upset.
“And where exactly would suit your tastes?”
“I would have the least to worry about if you would rent a room at my house. We have a spare room.”
“What are you talking about?! Are you serious?” Miu wailed, red-faced.
I laughed. “Akutagawa’s gonna be an overprotective father. There’s going to be trouble if you guys ever have daughters.”
“Hey now, Konoha! Why do you have to start talking about kids over something like that? You’re acting like Kazushi and I are together.”
She glared at me ferociously and I flinched.
“N-no, it’s just that yesterday I saw the baby of someone I know. It was a girl and she was really cute. Her name’s Nozomi. You write it with the characters for ‘hope’ an
d ‘beauty.’ Her dad picked it out as soon as he saw her.”
Rihoko had told us with an effusive smile that it was the name Soeda had given her when he’d embraced Rihoko and their baby in front of the hospital after chasing after them from Tokyo.
It was at that point—
Something tugged at my mind.
Wasn’t there something similar between Rihoko’s story and the story of Tohko’s mom that we’d heard at the hospital in Iwate?
The nurse had talked about how Fumiharu also hadn’t made it in time for the birth because of work…
That Yui had seemed anxious about giving birth alone, that she’d looked worried about something…
They’d decided that if they had a girl, they would name her Tohko—that her mother had seemed truly happy—no, that wasn’t it. The problem was something else.
There was another—
That’s it: the fact that Yui had a child at a hospital in Iwate.
The fact that Fumiharu was in Tokyo for work and couldn’t go visit her.
But Fumiharu’s coworker Mr. Sasaki had told us that before Tohko was born, Fumiharu would rush home when evening came to look after Yui. That he had sidelined his work and he was restless while he was at the office, and everyone had teased him.
Yui was in a hospital in Iwate.
Fumiharu didn’t go visit her.
So then who was Fumiharu going to see after work?!
The insides of my mouth grew suddenly dry.
In The Immoral Passage, the author Arisa and the editor Haru weren’t in a romantic relationship.
Kanako had told everyone that she and Fumiharu had a “chaste union.”
But could Fumiharu and Kanako have had romantic relations? Could Fumiharu have been having an affair with Kanako during Yui’s pregnancy? Or maybe even earlier!
And wasn’t Yui sad when she was in the hospital?
An image came to mind and goose bumps rose all over my body.
It couldn’t be—! That was what Ryuto had meant! The one who used the poison—!
“Is something wrong, Konoha?”
Miu’s face scrunched up as she asked. I heard her voice at a distance.
“Sorry! I forgot that my mom asked me to run an errand. I should get going.”
Book Girl and the Scribe Who Faced God, Part 2 Page 12
