Later that week, the two families met in Ueno for lunch. They went to a traditional Japanese restaurant for kaiseki and were seated in a private room with a view of Ueno Park. At the peak of autumn, the leaves had turned to gorgeous shades of red, yellow, tangerine, and magenta.
True to her mother’s words, Mr. Sumida was warm and courteous. An avid runner, he was tan and lean and looked much younger than his age. His son, Eiji, was friendly and chatty. The young man easily engaged Miwako’s mother in conversation and made her laugh.
Miwako had thought the meeting would be awkward, but it wasn’t. Everyone got along well, and the Sumidas didn’t seem to mind Miwako’s reserved disposition. After the delicious multi-course lunch, they went for a stroll in Ueno Park before parting ways.
“How do you think it went?” her mother asked Miwako on the way home.
“They’re nice,” she answered. “Mr. Sumida seems like a good man.”
Her mother smiled. “Is that so? You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. But of course, we’re still in the early stages of the relationship. We’ll see how it goes from here.”
Miwako said nothing. It was obvious her mother was already in love with Mr. Sumida, and their marriage was inevitable with time. She was just glad he seemed like the sort of man who could make her mother happy, and hoped her intuition was right.
Three months later, Miwako Kojima moved into a bigger two-story house, and her name changed to Miwako Sumida.
Fumi covered her mouth. “Miwako, how did you end up . . .”
“I don’t know. Even now, I can’t really explain it,” she said. “It’s not like I was planning for it to happen.”
“If you had feelings for him, you shouldn’t have agreed to your mother’s remarriage.”
“It wasn’t like that in the beginning. At first, I saw him as a friend. He made such an effort to get to know me, and we became closer. We talked for hours about books, something my mother and Eiji have no interest in. He was knowledgeable, and he had a deep passion for language and contemporary Japanese literature. I learned a lot from him. It was fascinating to hear him talk, even on topics I had no interest in. And then, before I realized it . . .” She looked down and continued in a small voice, “When we were together, my heart jumped.”
Fumi’s throat went dry. “Did the two of you—”
“Of course not,” Miwako interrupted. “He has no clue to this day. Plus, he was completely devoted to my mother.” She paused, brushing her hair behind her ear. “He never saw me that way.”
“Hmm. So what happened then, if he never found out?”
“Nothing would have happened, if not for that day.”
One weekend, Miwako returned home to find Mr. Sumida asleep on the sofa. The house was quiet. Her mother was working that day, and Eiji usually hung out with his friends on the weekends.
Miwako went over to the sofa and crouched next to her stepfather. Her heart raced. She stared into his peaceful sleeping face. He usually sported a clean-shaven look, but that afternoon, there was a thin layer of stubble on his chin.
She inched closer. Just being next to him was enough to make her flush. She knew she shouldn’t linger too long. He could wake up at any moment, and she didn’t want him to suspect anything.
Getting up, Miwako saw a half-drunk mug of coffee on the table. She picked it up, caressing it lightly. The coffee had turned cold and left a ring mark on the inside of the cup.
Better wash it now, before it leaves a stain.
She was about to go to the kitchen when her stepfather shifted and mumbled. She froze for a moment, wondering if he’d woken up, but he hadn’t. He was fast asleep. And then something inside her stirred.
Bringing the cup to her lips, Miwako took a small sip. It’s so sour, she thought as she had another sip. And another.
Then she turned to her sleeping stepfather. His breath was even. He was in such a deep sleep. He’d probably pulled another late shift yesterday. It must be so tiring. She inched closer to his face. A warmth spread inside her, and she felt the nape of her neck go hot. Leaning closer, she brushed her lips softly against his.
When Miwako realized what she had just done, a lump formed in her throat. She touched her neck, recognizing it for what it was.
Guilt.
Miwako sat on the floor as she felt her eyes tear up. What was she thinking? That had been so, so stupid, she cursed herself. She would never do anything like that again. She stood, silently wiping her tears with her wrist. She walked to the kitchen with the coffee cup.
But what waited there was her stepbrother, his expression cold.
Her heart skipped a beat. Had he seen? No, he couldn’t have from here. Miwako forced a smile. “I didn’t know you were home.”
Eiji continued to glare at her. She had never seen him look so unfriendly.
“Have you had your lunch?” She went to the sink and put the cup down, eager to leave the room. “Maybe we should—”
Her words were cut short when Eiji forcefully grabbed her wrist and pulled her around, pinning her against the wall. His lips met hers. Miwako shoved him away in surprise.
“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Are you crazy?”
Only inches away, he stared into her eyes and said, “I saw.”
No. It couldn’t be true. “I don’t know what you’re—”
“You don’t want our parents finding out, do you?”
Miwako clenched her fists.
“Keep your voice down, Miwako. Father is still sleeping.” He came closer to her, cornering her between the cabinet and the wall. “Is this the reason you asked for his old watch?”
Eiji grabbed Miwako’s wrist. She was wearing her stepfather’s black Casio watch.
He sneered. “Of course it is. Everything makes sense now.”
Pulling her hand, she said, “You have no proof. Who would believe you?”
“Think wisely. Why would I make that up? And even if it’s just a seed of doubt, are you sure you can afford it?”
Miwako went pale.
“Listen to me,” he whispered. “If you don’t say anything, I won’t say anything either. I’ll never betray you, as long as you don’t betray me.”
“He came to my room that night,” Miwako said without looking at Fumi. “At first, it was just another kiss. I let him do it. That may have been my biggest mistake. Over time, it got worse, until I’d lost sight of myself.”
Fumi furrowed her brow. “How long did that go on?”
“Until I went off to college.”
She shook her head. “How did you manage to keep quiet about it for so long?”
“I was terrified of the consequences,” Miwako said. “I didn’t want to destroy my family. Mr. Sumida was such a good man. He treated us well. And my mother . . .” She took a deep breath. “She was so happy in her second marriage. Even though she’d never said a word, I knew she had been lonely after my father’s passing. She needed Mr. Sumida. I couldn’t afford to break up our new family, all because of my own stupidity.”
Fumi looked into Miwako’s eyes. “But this isn’t about breaking up your family or what started all this. It’s about protecting yourself, isn’t it?”
“I know, but I realized that too late,” Miwako said. “I had already endured so much, and I used that to justify my silence. I would go off to university soon anyway, and I could finally live on my own, so it would be over. But even after I moved out, he visited me from time to time. In the end, I was just manufacturing more excuses.”
“Did you eventually tell your parents?”
“I did, though I didn’t tell them how it had all started. I only told them that Eiji had been forcing himself on me,” she said. “My mother was enraged, but my stepfather couldn’t believe his son would do such a thing.”
“Your stepbrother must have denied it.”
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Miwako shook her head. “I was surprised, but he actually admitted it without attempting to defend himself. After that, he walked into the garage and left on his motorcycle. I’d expected him to tell our parents about what I had done on that day, but he didn’t.”
Eiji didn’t return home in the next couple of days. Miwako’s parents agreed to ask him to turn himself in to the police once he came back, and if he refused or didn’t show up after a week, they would file the report themselves. Even though Miwako insisted they should just move on, they felt strongly it was the right thing to do. Her mother and Mr. Sumida also decided to separate amicably.
Instead of relief, Miwako felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. Her parents’ separation was the last thing she wanted, but she knew nothing she said could convince them otherwise. Mr. Sumida apologized profusely to Miwako, but all she could do was avoid his gaze. It hurt her to see him like that—he probably thought she hated him.
To keep Miwako safe, her parents changed all the house locks and asked her to temporarily return to the family home. They also instructed her to call them once Eiji turned up. But he never did.
One afternoon, when Miwako was home alone, she received a call from Eiji. On hearing his voice, she immediately slammed the phone down. But he kept on calling and calling, and eventually she answered.
“What do you want?” she asked coldly.
“I need to talk to you,” Eiji said. “Just talking, all right?”
“There’s nothing for us to talk about.”
He sighed. “Please, just this once, Miwako. And then I promise never to bother you again.”
Miwako hesitated. She hated her stepbrother, but she knew he was the type who kept his word.
“I know you hate me. I don’t expect you to forgive me. What I did was wrong, and I know I shouldn’t have done it, but . . .” He paused. “I was so angry and hurt.”
“You were angry and hurt? I’m the only one with the right to feel that way, Eiji.”
“Of course, and that’s why I want to apologize. To you, and Father, and Mother, but especially to you. I’m so sorry.”
As if apologizing changed anything.
“I know this is the most despicable, unforgivable thing I’ve ever done. I discovered one of your secrets and used it to completely take advantage of you. You probably see me as a heartless monster. I get that. But at the time, I just felt misguided. I was desperate.”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
“That’s the thing, Miwako. You don’t understand,” he said. “Have you ever thought that I actually cared about you, maybe a little too much? That what I felt for you might be real?”
Miwako put her hand against the wall to steady herself.
“I . . .” He paused and took a deep breath. “I just wanted the girl I liked to look at me. Even for a split second. But no matter what I did for her, her eyes were on someone else. So I started doing things to break her, to get her attention. And I guess in the process, I broke myself too. I turned into a monster who wanted to destroy her.”
Miwako was crying, but she was careful not to let it slip into her voice. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore, Eiji. You should just come home and speak to our parents.”
“Miwako.” His voice was soft. “I’m not coming back.”
“You can’t run away forever.”
“Oh, I think I can,” he said, chuckling.
Miwako clutched the phone tighter. “Fine. I don’t care what happens to you.”
“You don’t, huh?” He laughed. “All right, then.”
“Goodbye,” she said. “Please don’t call again.”
Eiji was quiet for a moment. “I understand. Goodbye, Miwako. I know it’s not my place to say this, but please be well.”
“That was the last time I spoke to Eiji,” Miwako said. “That night, he was involved in a traffic accident. The police said he was drunk, but Eiji was always a safe rider and not a big drinker. I knew what happened to him had been because of me.”
Fumi shook her head. “Miwako, it wasn’t because of you. You didn’t ask for it, and I’m so glad you told your parents what had happened. You did the right thing.”
Miwako looked down. “I’m not so sure about that.”
Fumi was about to say that Eiji had gotten what he deserved, but she stopped herself, knowing it wouldn’t make Miwako feel any better. “Was that why you left Tokyo?”
“Yes. I felt trapped. I wanted to get away from everything. I thought I could start over, but Eiji’s death and my parents’ separation stuck with me. I hated myself for what I did and what I didn’t do.”
Miwako started to sob. Fumi wished she could hug her, but all she could do was stay here, be there for her.
For a moment, everything was still. Fumi felt as if Miwako and she were drifting away from their current dimension. They were far away in a quiet forest where no one could hurt them.
“I shouldn’t have lied to myself, or to everyone else.” Miwako’s voice shattered the silence. “I shouldn’t have pretended everything was perfect.”
26
Looks
Like
It’s
Going
to
Rain
There are two types of farewells: the expected and the unexpected.
Miwako Sumida’s death had been unexpected. Her final passing, on the other hand, Fumi had long anticipated.
I’m going to miss her, Fumi thought as she stared at Miwako, who was sitting idly on the couch.
Miwako turned to her. “Fumi-nee, I’m curious. Why did you name the company Studio Salt? Is it because of the sweat and tears going into it?”
“Perhaps,” she said, even though that had been precisely the reason. Kenji had been the one who had come up with the initial idea. She’d visited his warehouse to make a commissioned sculpture, dragging Ryusei along. At that time, she told him she planned to open an art studio.
“Sounds great,” Kenji said. “What will you call it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about that all night, but none of the names stand out. I want something simple and memorable. Do you have any suggestions?”
“What about Studio Salty?” he suggested. “Because it’s made from your sweat and tears.”
She thought about it. “Not salty. That leaves a weird impression.”
“What about salt? Studio Salt,” Ryusei said.
“Not bad,” Kenji said. “Let’s use that. Studio Salt. Nice and catchy.”
She laughed. “The two of you decided without me.”
And just like that, the name stuck. Some customers asked about it, but Fumi never told them the real story. To her, it was a little secret shared by the three of them. Yet Miwako had figured out the meaning without any hints. The person Ryu had loved was no ordinary girl.
Fumi stared at Miwako, who was laying down on the couch. “Even though you’re not in love with my brother, you still really care about him, don’t you?”
Miwako continued to stare at the ceiling.
Fumi furrowed her brow. Had she been wrong? Could it be that this entire time, Miwako had been in love with Ryu too? But it was already too late for them. Fumi felt a pressure in her chest.
“Ryu will be fine, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Fumi said. “He’s a tough kid. He’s been through a lot. If my brother’s well-being is what’s holding you back, you should know your concerns are unfounded.”
Again, Miwako kept quiet.
“Actually, I have a small request,” Fumi said. “Can I draw a picture of you?”
Miwako got up and smiled. “Of course.”
“All right, keep that expression and try not to move too much.”
Fumi reached for her sketchbook and a box of pastels, trying her best to hold back her tears
.
The day Miwako Sumida left began like any other day.
They had a casual conversation over breakfast. Nothing important—Fumi couldn’t even remember what it was about. Probably the weather, since the temperature had started to drop. Fumi recalled checking the clock, realizing she was about to be late for an appointment.
“You’d better go now,” Miwako said, glancing out the window. “Looks like it’s going to rain.”
Yes, those had been her last words. Looks like it’s going to rain.
Fumi grabbed a folded translucent umbrella and dropped it into her tote bag. Miwako waved to her as she left the house.
At that moment, Fumi hadn’t felt anything was amiss. She went to her meeting at a family restaurant owned by a potential new customer without a single thought of Miwako. She was trying to convince the old man before her to commission a painting. When he sat, the gaps between the buttons on his shirt opened. The gingham pattern was slightly faded—likely a shirt that had lasted a good few years.
After browsing Fumi’s portfolio, the restaurant owner praised her landscape paintings, especially the western-style ones.
“I used to live in Prague,” he said. “I was there for over a year.”
“Was it for business?” she asked, watching his body language closely. Over the years, she had learned that the key to securing a sale was reading the customer’s reactions and making tailored recommendations.
“Not really,” he said. “I wanted to experience all four seasons in a faraway country. My relative owned a Japanese restaurant there. He let me eat for free and sleep on his couch in exchange for helping out with the kitchen work. In fact, that was how I became interested in this business. You could say my restaurant was born in Prague.”
“Shall we do a landscape painting of Prague, then?” Fumi suggested. She didn’t know much about the place, but she remembered a picture of Charles Bridge from the gigantic calendar in her studio.
The Perfect World of Miwako Sumida Page 23