The Perfect World of Miwako Sumida

by Clarissa Goenawan

  Grabbing her bag, Chie left her room and went next door. Ryusei lay on the bed with a wet towel on his forehead. His nose was red and slightly swollen. Next to him, Miss Sugi wrung out another towel.

  “You don’t look so good,” Chie said to him, sitting beside Miss Sugi. “Maybe I should stay for a couple more days.”

  Ryusei gave a weak grin. “Come on, don’t be dramatic. It’s just a cold. I tend to get sick easily.”

  She touched his cheek. “You’re burning up.” Looking at Miss Sugi, she added, “His temperature’s pretty high, isn’t it?”

  “Not high enough to be of concern yet,” the older woman said. “Fever is one of the body’s protective mechanisms. It means his immune system’s trying to fight off the infection.”

  “You hear that?” Ryusei said, offering her a reassuring smile. “Plus, you told your parents you were only going away for a few days. It’s already been a week. They’ll get worried if you aren’t back soon.”

  She didn’t respond, knowing he was right.

  “I’ll take good care of him,” Miss Sugi said. “You have people waiting for you back home. Don’t make them worry.”

  Chie bowed to her. “Thank you for everything. And my apologies; we’ve been such a burden.”

  “I should be the one to thank you for assisting me,” the older woman said. “Do come back anytime you want. You’re always welcome.”

  Chie mustered a smile and turned to Ryusei. “How long are you going to stay?”

  He paused for a while. “I’m not sure. I’m not ready to be back in Tokyo yet.”

  “You can stay as long as you want,” Miss Sugi said, “but you can’t run away from your fate.”

  A brief silence fell over the room.

  Chie cleared her throat. “Do you want me to pass on any messages for you? Maybe to your sister?”

  “There’s no need,” he said, “but I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone I was here.”

  “Your sister must be worried.”

  “She might be, but she’ll understand.”

  Miss Sugi touched Chie’s arm. “I think it’s time to get going. Mr. Tanaka is waiting.”

  She nodded. “Well then, I’ll take my leave.”

  “Take care, and have a safe journey.”

  Chie got up and left the room. A middle-aged man was waiting for her on the porch. Near his feet was a huge tattered canvas rucksack. Miss Sugi had told Chie that Mr. Tanaka was the person in charge of going down the mountain every once in a while to retrieve medical supplies for the village.

  The man noticed Chie. “You must be Miss Ohno. I’m Tanaka. I’ll be your guide to the station.”

  She bowed to him. “Thank you for letting me be in your care.”

  “I hear your friend is unwell?”

  “Yes, he caught a bad cold.”

  “It must have been that rain the other day. City dwellers do get sick easily.” He picked up his gigantic rucksack. “But don’t worry, young men like him are tough. He’ll be better soon.”

  Before they left, Chie took one last look around. Behind them lay a quiet village where everyone knew everyone, and in front of her stood a forest ruled by the goddess of earth. The sky above was blue, filled with fluffy white clouds.

  Chie thought about what had happened in Kitsuyama, and what would happen after today. She knew that, in time, she and Ryusei would recover from Miwako’s death. But Miwako Sumida would forever be the girl who swept everyone away into a sea of color. And whenever Chie looked at the clouds, she would remember the two of them lying precariously atop that water tank on the rooftop, arguing about things that didn’t really matter, like whether a passing cloud looked like a rabbit or an airplane.

  PART THREE

  Fumi Yanagi’s Story

  The first time Fumi Yanagi received a call from the police, it was to inform her that her parents had been involved in a fatal accident.

  “The car they were in crashed through the safety barrier and went over the cliff,” the officer said. “I’m sorry, but neither of them survived.”

  She remembered feeling disoriented. Clutching the phone tightly with both hands, she had trouble standing. Her vision grew dark. But even in that state, she could hear footsteps approaching from behind. Turning around, she saw little Ryu in his flannel pajamas.

  “What happened?” he asked, eyes wide. “You’re crying.”

  Fumi gasped. It was then that she realized tears were streaming down her face.

  She wanted to explain to him that in a matter of hours, they had become orphans. But she couldn’t. Instead, she just cried and cried, and eventually, Ryusei realized something terrible had happened.

  He tugged at Fumi’s sleeve and whispered, “It’s okay. I’m here for you.”

  When the siblings learned of Miwako Sumida’s death, Fumi was again the one to pick up the phone when the police called.

  “Miss Sumida’s body was found last night,” the officer said. “Right now, we’re investigating it as an unnatural death. We’ve been told that she used to work part-time for you, so we’d like to ask a couple of questions. Don’t worry, it’s just standard procedure.”

  “Excuse me.” Her voice was hoarse. “What happened to Miwako?”

  “Preliminary reports suggested that Miss Sumida hanged herself. But of course . . .”

  Fumi didn’t catch the rest. Her mind went cloudy. The officer’s words played over and over in her head: Miss Sumida hanged herself. Miss Sumida . . . hanged herself. Miss . . . Sumida . . . hanged . . . herself . . . Sumida . . . hanged . . . herself.

  Miwako had committed suicide? How was that possible? Miwako, of all people, the girl who always put forward her honest opinion without giving a damn what other people thought. What could have driven someone like her to commit suicide? It had to be a mistake.

  Fumi felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around.

  “What happened? You’re shaking.” Ryusei furrowed his brow and looked at the receiver in her hand. “And you’re crying. It’s your ex, isn’t it? Do you want me to talk to that jerk?”

  “It’s not—it’s . . . ” Fumi’s voice trailed off. She wiped away her tears, but they kept coming. With difficulty, she finally managed to whisper, “It’s Miwako . . . she . . .”

  Sobbing, Fumi couldn’t finish her sentence. She shook her head and covered her mouth with her hand, but her cries still escaped. Ryusei stared at her with a pained expression. No, this wasn’t the time to be weak. Not a moment like this. She should be the one consoling her brother. After all, she knew his feelings for Miwako better than anyone.

  But Fumi couldn’t utter a single word. She could only cry against her will.

  Ryusei folded her into his arms and embraced her.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered into her ear as he stroked her hair. “I’m here. I’m always here for you.”

  17

  You’re

  More

  of a

  Pest

  Than a

  Pet

  Fumi Yanagi set her plastic bags down before climbing over the gate. Her beige stilettos thudded loudly when she landed. Her feet hurt. She should stop wearing such high heels. They made her tower over everyone. But Mama-san always said they suited her best.

  “Our customers prefer girls in high heels,” Mama-san would proclaim, “and they lift up your backside, Fumi-chan.”

  Fumi wasn’t entirely convinced. That was probably true for girls who were short in the first place, but she was almost as tall as Ryu, who had been the tallest player on his high school basketball team. It was hard enough for Fumi to find a man taller than her without the heels, let alone with them.

  Although her workplace wasn’t ideal for finding love, she wanted to be prepared. Love always came uninvited, during the most unexpected encounters. And she wasn’t one
to deny it.

  Fumi walked into the studio and waited for Tama to appear.

  The place was quiet. Far too quiet. Tama normally came to the gate to greet her—had she run away again? Fumi cursed. Ryusei would be so upset.

  “Tama!” Fumi called, but all that greeted her was silence.

  Entering the warehouse, she found an unfamiliar man crouching in front of Tama.

  “Who are you?” Fumi shouted. “What are you doing here?”

  The stranger turned to her. Fumi took a good look at his face. Young, probably early or mid-twenties, definitely younger than her. Wearing a blue gingham shirt over a white T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans, he looked like a university student.

  “I just asked you what you’re doing here.” She continued to raise her voice. “You’re trespassing on private property.”

  He raised both his hands and grinned. “Miss, do I look like a suspicious person? Don’t be so aggressive.”

  “You’re on my property without permission. You’re obviously suspicious.”

  “Hey, come on.” He laughed, a pair of dimples forming on his cheeks. He held out a key to the partitioned office, identical to hers. “My name is Eiji. I’m looking for Kenji.”

  “Ah, you should’ve said so earlier,” Fumi said, setting her plastic bags down and taking out a can of cat food. “Kenji is away on a long trip. To be honest, I don’t know where he is or when he’ll be back. It’s been several years.”

  The young man paused, seemingly deep in thoughts. “In that case, I’ll stay here and wait for him.”

  Fumi furrowed her brow. “Excuse me, what did you just say?”

  “I’m going to stay here and wait for Kenji until he returns.” Eiji flashed Fumi a big smile. He gestured to Tama, who was enjoying her dinner. “Is this the resident cat?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Tama.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Wait, wait.” Fumi sighed and crossed her arms. “Let’s get one thing clear. You can’t stay here. This is my studio. Kenji entrusted it to me to do my work, and I’m not having some stranger in my workplace.” Fumi noticed the boy had brought a huge rucksack, which sat near his feet. “Where are you from, anyway? Are you on vacation or something?”

  “On vacation, huh?” He laughed. “You could say that.”

  “I’m sorry, Eiji, but you need to leave. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  “Hey, don’t be like that. I have nowhere to go, and I’ve got no cash.”

  “What do you mean? You came to Tokyo without any money?”

  He nodded. “I’ve got enough for instant noodles, but that’s about it.”

  Fumi gritted her teeth. Was he for real?

  “Kenji said I could crash at his place whenever I wanted, for as long as I wanted,” the young man said.

  Well, too bad. None of her business. “As you can clearly see, the man isn’t here. Why don’t you go back to wherever you came from?”

  “I can’t do that,” he said, pausing. “I’m running away from home, so I’ve got nowhere to return to.”

  She frowned. “Why did you run away? Don’t you have another friend you can go to?”

  Instead of answering, Eiji yawned. “I’m so tired. Can I sleep on the floor, just for the night?”

  Fumi had no idea why she’d led this stranger back to her apartment. She had never brought anyone there before, not even Kenji. The next thing she knew, Eiji was standing by the door while she set up a makeshift bed for him on the sofa. If her brother were there, he would have been chiding her for giving in to yet another jerk.

  “I like your apartment,” Eiji said, glancing around. “It’s simple, but very comfortable. Did you decorate it yourself?”

  She glared at him. “If you keep talking, I’ll throw you onto the street.”

  He laughed. He had a smile she would’ve found charming if he hadn’t been testing her patience.

  “Hey, tell me your name,” he said.

  “What for?”

  “So I know how to address you.”

  “There’s no need. You’re leaving tomorrow anyway, first thing in the morning.”

  “Yes, but until then, I want to speak to you properly. Or I could just call you ‘pretty girl.’”

  “Call me that, and you’ll spend the night sleeping on a park bench with a black eye,” Fumi said. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cringe at his feeble attempt to flatter her. “But if you insist, you can call me Fumi.”

  “Can I call you Fumi-nee?”

  “Up to you.”

  “I’ll call you Fumi-nee. You seem like the nice older sister type. I always wanted a sister,” Eiji said. “Do you live here by yourself?”

  “My brother lives with me.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s been staying elsewhere. He should be back any day now.”

  “But for now, you’re here all by yourself?”

  “Like I said, he’ll be back any day now.” She carried the sofa’s cushions to Ryusei’s room and put them on his bed.

  “A woman living alone,” Eiji mumbled. “Aren’t you afraid I might attack you?”

  Fumi sucked in her breath. This guy was messing with her. “That’s enough. Get out. The door’s unlocked.”

  “Hey, I was just teasing you,” he said. “I’m sorry, it was a bad joke. But please, let me stay the night. I won’t bother you.”

  She clicked her tongue.

  “Okay, maybe a couple of nights. Please?”

  Fumi narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “Seriously? Don’t waste your time. Like I told you, my brother lives with me. It’s not my place to give you permission to stay here.”

  “Of course it is. This is your apartment. It’s entirely up to you. Come on, at least let me stay here until your brother returns. I promise to leave by then.”

  She frowned. “And if I say no?”

  He licked his lip, seemingly hesitating. “I really don’t want to resort to this, but the studio doesn’t belong to you, Fumi-nee, and I’m pretty sure you don’t have any legally valid proof that Kenji entrusted it to you.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Fumi felt anger surge up inside her.

  “It would just be your word against mine, and in the eyes of law, Kenji’s promise means nothing if you can’t prove he made it. Look, I’m not trying to blackmail you. I have no intention to report you to the police for . . . what did you call it earlier? Ah, yes, trespassing on private property.”

  She crossed her arms. “Do you really expect me to let you stay after you just threatened me like that?”

  He shrugged. “I have no choice, you know. How was I supposed to know Kenji wouldn’t be there? I was planning to crash at his place.”

  Fumi took a deep breath.

  “You can just think of me as a pet, one you don’t need to feed. I won’t trouble you, and I’ll try my best to be helpful,” Eiji said.

  “You’re more of a pest than a pet,” she muttered.

  “If you’re that uncomfortable with me being here, I’ll go back to the warehouse. Is that better? I can sleep on the floor. I promise not to touch any of your things.”

  No, that wouldn’t do. The studio’s concrete flooring was so hard and cold, anyone would get sick spending the night there. She knew letting Eiji stay in her apartment was a bad idea, and she could almost hear Ryusei’s voice chiding her, but . . .

  “If you’re so tired, why are you still standing by the door?” Fumi eventually said.

  Eiji’s eyes lit up. “You’re letting me stay?”

  “Only for a few days,” she said, too quickly. “Until you get a job and find proper accommodations.”

  Fumi couldn’t tell if Eiji even heard her. He was busy settling onto the couch like an excited p
uppy.

  “Do you need a blanket?” she asked. “I can lend you one.”

  “Nah, I like the night breeze,” he said. “What about you? What do you usually do at this hour? Are you an early sleeper?”

  Fumi glanced at her watch. Still eight in the evening. Her shift started at ten. She should be able to nap for a bit, but she had to complete some sketches for a commissioned painting.

  “You can rest.” She rubbed her neck. “I’m not tired.”

  “You’re lying,” Eiji said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You haven’t realized it?” He mimicked her gesture. “Whenever you’re hiding something or talking about something that makes you uncomfortable, you touch your neck.”

  Fumi pulled her hand down. How had he figured that out so fast? They had just met.

  “I’m going to sleep,” he said, curling up with his back to her. “If you’re tired, you should rest. It’s not good to push yourself all the time. You need to listen to your body more.”

  She hated to admit it, but he was right. She ought to start taking better care of her health.

  The first night Eiji stayed over at Fumi’s apartment, she had a dream about Miwako. It was of something that had happened a year ago.

  Fumi was entering the studio when she saw Miwako crouching in front of the two run-down bicycles.

  “What are you doing?” Fumi whispered over Miwako’s shoulder.

  “Nothing.” Surprised, she abruptly turned around and stood, hiding a sketchbook behind her back. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people. I thought you were a ghost.”

  Fumi laughed. “You’re the one who was off in your own world. What were you doing?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  Right. Fumi walked around Miwako and pointed at the sketchbook. “What’s that?”

  “Hey!”

  Fumi snatched the book out of Miwako’s hands despite her protests. Flipping through the pages, she saw pencil sketches of varied subjects. Cats, birds, some still lifes, and on the last page, a stiff outline of two bicycles, still half-done. All the images were crooked, and their proportions or angles were odd.