Journey Under the Midnight Sun

by Keigo Higashino

  Masaharu tensed, hearing the tears in her voice. He thought maybe he should pull out his handkerchief, but didn’t dare move.

  ‘Sometimes, I feel like I killed her,’ she said.

  ‘You should never think that. You didn’t come home late on purpose, Yukiho.’

  ‘That’s not what I mean. My mother had it very hard those days. She was giving up sleep to work. That’s why she was so tired that day. I think if I’d been more helpful, if she hadn’t had to work so hard…’

  Masaharu held his breath as he watched a large tear trace a path down her white cheek. He wanted more than anything else to hold her. I’m an idiot, Masaharu cursed himself. Because ever since talking to Mr Tagawa at the estate agency and hearing about what had happened, a horrible thought had been growing in the back of his mind.

  The unusual number of cold medicine packages, the sake cups, the locked window – everything pointed towards suicide. The only thing that didn’t make sense was the pot that had boiled over – boiled over, but not enough to leave a mess, according to the police. Not enough to put out a burner.

  Maybe it had been a suicide, but then someone had come by and spilled soup out of the pot in order to make it look like an accident. The one who could have done that was Yukiho. She could have spilled the soup then opened the cold medicine boxes and the cups of sake.

  Why make it look like an accident? Because she was afraid of what people would think? Yet the scenario raised another frightening question. If Yukiho had returned home earlier, before coming with the estate agent, had her mother already been dead at that time? Or could she still have been saved? Hadn’t Mr Tagawa said that had they been there thirty minutes earlier, they might have been able to save her?

  What if the young Yukiho had, upon walking in on her own mother on the brink of death, seen not tragedy, but opportunity? What if, in her weekly visits to Reiko Karasawa’s house, Yukiho had realised that if something ever happened to her own mother, she could rely on this elegant lady to take her in?

  The thought was not a place Masaharu wanted to linger long. And yet there was something grimly compelling about the scenario. He couldn’t get it out of his head.

  Now, seeing her tears, Masaharu chastised himself for having such a twisted mind. This was a human being sitting before him, a real, vulnerable girl. She could never have done something so cold.

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t think that. You wouldn’t want your mother to be sad where she is now.’

  ‘I just wish I’d had a key,’ Yukiho whispered between sobs.

  ‘It was just bad luck.’

  Yukiho shook her head and stood, going to her school uniform where it hung on a hanger in the closet. She pulled a key out of the pocket. ‘That’s why I always keep a house key with me now,’ she said. She held the key up to show him.

  ‘That keychain looks ancient,’ Masaharu said.

  ‘It is. I’ve had it for ever. Except, that day, I forgot it at home.’

  As she put the key back in her pocket, her hand brushed against the closet door, making the tiny bell on her keychain ring.

  FIVE

  The noise hit them as soon as they were through the ticket gates. Students from a nearby university – all of them boys – were practically falling over each other to hand flyers to the girls from Seika Girls College. ‘Join our tennis club!’ they shouted. ‘Join our skiing club!’ Their voices had long since gone hoarse.

  Eriko succeeded in making it out of the station without accepting a single flyer. She and Yukiho exchanged glances and laughed.

  ‘That was impressive,’ said Eriko. ‘I wonder how many different schools were there.’

  ‘Today’s the most important day of the year for them,’ Yukiho told her. ‘A word of advice: never settle for a flyer boy.’ She brushed back her long hair.

  The school buildings of Seika Girls College stood in the middle of a residential area that was mostly newer houses, with the occasional sprawling old walled-in property. It was a small college with only three departments: English Literature, Home Economics, and Athletics – meaning that there were usually very few students in what was ostensibly a college town. This kept things quiet, with the exception of recruitment day, when students from nearby men’s universities competed to attract girls from Seika to join their clubs. Boys from nearby Eimei University were thickest on the ground. They loitered along the street leading to the school, casting about with hungry eyes for likely targets. When they spotted a freshman, they launched into their pitch.

  ‘You don’t even have to really be in the club if you don’t want to,’ shouted one as they passed. ‘Just come to the parties. You don’t even need to pay dues!’

  It took the girls almost twenty minutes to navigate a path that only took five on a normal day. They seemed to be attracting far more than their share of attention, but Eriko knew all too well the boys were there for Yukiho, not her. So had it always been, ever since they were in middle school.

  The frantic invitations died down once they were through the college gates. Eriko and Yukiho headed for the gymnasium. Opening ceremonies would be held here this year.

  Folding chairs stretched out in long rows behind department names posted on placards. The two girls sat down in the row for English Lit. There should have been about forty new students in the department, but only half the seats were filled. Students weren’t under any particular obligation to attend the opening ceremony, which meant that most would be arriving late, just in time for official school club recruitments, Eriko imagined.

  The opening ceremony consisted of greetings from the president and the department heads. The speeches were painfully boring; it was all Eriko could do to stifle her yawns.

  Outside the gymnasium, tables from each school club had been lined up on the campus lawn. There were some boys from Eimei here too, though energy levels were far more subdued than they had been that morning at the station.

  ‘Going to join any clubs?’ Eriko asked Yukiho as they walked outside.

  ‘Maybe,’ she said, passing her uninterested gaze over several of the club posters.

  ‘There’s an awful lot of tennis clubs – and skiing,’ Eriko noted. It seemed those two activities made up about half of all the clubs. She guessed these clubs were less about community and school spirit, and more about skipping out on class and scoring free trips to the mountains.

  ‘Not interested,’ said Yukiho.

  ‘No?’

  ‘I’d just get sunburned.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘Did you know that your skin remembers the exact amount of ultraviolet radiation it’s absorbed? Even if a tan fades, the damage is done. And when you get older, you’ll pay in wrinkles. They say tans are for the young, but if you ask me, the young are the last people who should be getting tans.’

  Eriko looked over at her friend, her skin as white as the ‘yuki’ meaning ‘snow’ in her name, and agreed that she had something worth protecting.

  The boys began their approach, like fruit flies to a banana. They invited them to play tennis, go skiing, play golf, go surfing – all things that would give you a serious tan, Eriko thought bemusedly. Yukiho wasn’t paying them any attention. She had stopped, her eyes looking up at a poster. The sign read:

  Ballroom Dance

  (A joint club with Eimei University)

  Two girls, new recruits by the look of them, were talking with the members by the club table. There was no sports paraphernalia here – everyone behind the table, Seika girls and Eimei boys both, wore dark, stylish jackets. They seemed more adult and refined than the students in the other clubs.

  The boys had already noticed Yukiho stopping and one of them approached almost immediately.

  ‘Might you be interested in a dance?’ he asked. He was handsome, and there was a deliberate precision to his words.

  ‘A little,’ Yukiho said honestly. ‘But I’ve never tried it before, and I really don’t know much about it.’

&nb
sp; ‘Everyone has to start somewhere,’ the boy said. ‘But don’t worry, you’ll be dancing in a month.’

  ‘Would it be all right just to watch?’

  ‘Of course.’ He led Yukiho over to the desk as they talked and introduced her to the girl members from Seika. Almost as an afterthought, he looked back around at Eriko. ‘How about you?’

  ‘No, I’m fine.’

  ‘OK!’

  He went straight back to Yukiho, afraid that other boys might angle in on his catch, Eriko thought. Already three other boys were crowding around her.

  ‘Why don’t you audit?’ said a voice from behind Eriko. She jolted to one side and glanced around to see a taller boy looking down at her.

  ‘No, really,’ she said, ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Why not?’ he asked with a smile.

  ‘I just don’t think dancing is my thing. I’m not suited for it. And if they found out, my family would go into shock.’

  ‘There’s no such thing as being suited or unsuited for dancing. Isn’t your friend going to audit too?’ He glanced towards where Yukiho was standing near the club table. ‘Come along, just once. Take a look. If you don’t like it, you don’t like it – we won’t force you to join just because you came to watch.’

  ‘Really, it’s OK.’

  ‘You don’t want to dance?’

  ‘It’s not that. In fact, I think it would be nice to be able to dance. I just don’t think I’m cut out for it.’ She shook her head. ‘No, I’m definitely not.’

  ‘Oh, I doubt that,’ the tall student said, giving her a suspicious look. But his eyes were smiling.

  ‘I – I’d get dizzy right away.’

  ‘Dizzy?’

  ‘Seasick. I’m just not very good at swaying from side to side.’

  The boy raised an eyebrow. ‘What does that have to do with dancing?’

  ‘Well,’ Eriko said, lowering her voice, ‘don’t the boys whirl the girls around a lot? Like that scene from Gone with the Wind when Scarlett dances with Rhett Butler. Just watching that made me feel a little sick to my stomach.’

  Eriko had meant to be serious, but it was hard to keep a straight face when the boy started to laugh midway through her explanation.

  ‘A lot of people get nervous when you mention the word “dance”, but that’s the first time I’ve ever heard that excuse.’

  ‘But I’m not joking. I really am worried.’

  ‘I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Honest!’

  He shook his head. ‘You owe it to yourself to at least see what you’re so frightened of,’ he said, taking Eriko by the hand and pulling her over to the club table.

  Yukiho had just finished signing up to audit. She was smiling at something the three boys behind the table were saying. When she saw Eriko get dragged over, her eyes widened in surprise.

  ‘Another for auditing,’ the tall student said.

  ‘What’s Kazunari doing recruiting?’ whispered one of the girls at the table.

  ‘I believe this fine young lady has misconceptions about dance that need correcting,’ he said, flashing white teeth at Eriko.

  Dance club ended precisely at five, after which several of the boys from Eimei would invite new recruits who showed potential out to a café. This café date was the sole purpose for which many of them had joined the club in the first place.

  Tonight, Kazunari Shinozuka was in a hotel in Osaka. He was sitting on a sofa next to the window, his notebook open on his lap with a list of twenty-three names. Not bad, he thought. It wasn’t an outrageously large number, but it was more than the year before. The question was how many would actually join.

  ‘There were a lot more boys this year than usual,’ came a voice from the bed.

  Kanae Kurahashi lit her cigarette and blew out a stream of grey smoke. Her bare shoulder was exposed, though she held a blanket over her breasts. The dim light of the nightstand lamp left the exotic features of her face in shadow.

  ‘You think?’

  ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘Seemed the same as always to me.’

  Kanae shook her head. Her long hair swayed. ‘No, today was definitely different. And I know who’s to blame.’

  ‘Do tell.’

  ‘That Karasawa girl. She’s joining, right?’

  ‘Karasawa?’ Kazunari traced down the names in his notebook with a finger. ‘Yukiho Karasawa… English Lit.’

  ‘You don’t remember her? That’s hard to believe.’

  ‘No, I remember her. Though I don’t remember her face that well, to tell you the truth. We had a lot of people audit today.’

  Kanae snorted. ‘Guess she’s not your type.’

  ‘What type is she?’

  ‘A perfect lady. You like the ones with imperfections, the bad girls. Like me.’

  ‘I like a well-bred lady as much as the next man. Anyway, what makes you so sure she’s a “lady”?’

  ‘You should’ve seen Nagayama. He was practically beside himself, saying she was definitely a virgin.’ Kanae chuckled.

  ‘That proves nothing except that he’s an idiot.’

  Kazunari took a bite of the sandwich he’d ordered from room service and thought back on the students who came to observe the club that day.

  It was true that he didn’t really remember Yukiho Karasawa that well. They’d only exchanged a couple of words and he hadn’t spent much time watching her move, so he’d never picked up on this ‘perfect lady’ thing Kanae was going on about. He did remember Nagayama being excited, but hadn’t known why at the time.

  The girl he remembered was Eriko. She was the kind of girl who didn’t put on any make-up, wore practical clothes, spoke plainly… and was still beautiful for it.

  He’d seen her waiting for a friend – that was Yukiho, now that he thought of it – to finish writing her name on the sign-up sheet. She didn’t seem to notice the other people walking by her or shouts from the other tables. It was almost as if she enjoyed the act of waiting. She made him think of a weed that had suddenly bloomed and now stood swaying in the breeze by the roadside, a tiny flower without a proper name – at least none anyone knew.

  And he had reached out to pick that flower. Being the head of the dance club, he wasn’t responsible for recruiting. But Eriko was unique. Her reactions to the things he said were completely unexpected, each one. He found the way she talked and the way she looked entirely fresh.

  He’d thought about her all during the class audit that day, though he couldn’t explain why. His eyes kept being drawn to her.

  Maybe it was because she looked the most serious of all the potential recruits that day. While others had sat in the folding chairs they’d put out, she stood until the very end. Kazunari had walked up to her once the session was over to see what she thought.

  ‘It was incredible,’ Eriko said, clasping her hands together. ‘I used to think ballroom dancing was old-fashioned, but watching them move – it was like they were born to dance.’

  ‘No one’s born to dance,’ said Kazunari.

  ‘They could have fooled me.’

  Kazunari shook his head. ‘None of us could dance when we started, and most of us won’t go on to be dancers.’