Whenever people look at me, I become uneasy. I’d never realized it until my sister pointed it out. Almost fourteen years ago, she had taken me to Ueno Zoo on my tenth birthday, just the two of us. We watched a sea lion bask in the sun atop a stone platform.
“Do you think the animals hate us?” my sister asked.
I shrugged. “Why would they?”
“Look at this sea lion. He lives in a confined space, all eyes on him. Wouldn’t it be uncomfortable to have so many people staring at you every day?”
She turned to me and I looked away.
“Especially for you, Ren,” my sister said. “Whenever people look at you, you get nervous and avert your eyes.”
“I’m not nervous. I just don’t like being stared at,” I said. “And these animals have a good life, sleeping and eating the whole day. No homework or exams to worry about. They shouldn’t complain.”
She put her arm around my shoulders. “You’ve got a point.”
Another sea lion leapt up onto the platform from the water and looked over at the visitors before diving in again.
“Maybe to them, a zoo is a place where animals see human exhibits,” she continued. Even then, my sister had her own way of thinking.
I went over to the petite woman.
“Excuse me,” I said, startling her. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but can you tell me where the faculty lounge is?”
“Umm, go straight then turn left.” She pointed toward a doorway flanked by two battered file cabinets.
As I walked, I felt the eyes of my sister’s former coworkers following me. Most only snuck a quick peek, but a few openly stared. I wiped my sweaty palms on my trousers.
The faculty lounge itself was pretty basic: a small table, a sink, a water dispenser, and a mini fridge, but no chair to sit on. A box of Sencha sachets and a jar filled with packets of instant coffee sat on the table.
“Need help?”
I turned around and saw a woman holding a Hard Rock Café mug. She wore a white blouse paired with a beige pencil skirt, and her hair was tied in a high ponytail.
“Is there a cup I can use?” I asked.
“Of course.” She bent down and opened the cabinet under the counter, revealing a dozen ceramic cups. “If I were you, I would rinse it first. You never know who used it last, or whether they cleaned it properly.”
I took one cup and ran it under the tap. I couldn’t find a towel to dry it, so I gave it a couple of shakes over the sink.
The woman rinsed her mug next to me. “You must be Keiko’s younger brother.”
Unsure of what to say, I simply nodded and reached for the instant coffee.
“I’m sorry to hear about what happened. She was such a sweet person,” she said. “Are you a teacher, too?”
“I’m still in school.” I filled the cup with hot water from the dispenser. “I’m finishing my graduate studies.”
“Must be busy. How long are you planning to stay?”
“Maybe a couple of weeks. I’ve submitted my thesis, so I can afford to take a break.” She had smooth skin and a radiant complexion; I guessed she was in her thirties. “Are you a teacher here?”
She sighed. “Yes, but only as of very recently.”
I hadn’t expected her to be new, since she’d referred to my sister by her first name. Only lovers and close friends did that.
“What are you studying?” she asked.
“British and American Literature,” I answered. The same as my sister.
Her eyes widened. “Are you studying at Keio, too?”
“Yes. Are you an alumna?”
“No, it’s not that.” She flashed me a wide smile. “Say, would you consider working here?”
This caught me by surprise.
“Don’t give me that stunned look,” she teased. “Keiko was one of our few permanent teachers. She was in charge of most English classes. We’ve tried to divide her work among ourselves, but each of us already has plenty of things to handle. It would be great if you could join us on a temporary basis as a teacher. We should be able to find a permanent replacement by the winter break.”
“Umm . . .”
She tilted her head. “You don’t like the idea?”
“It’s a bit sudden, isn’t it?”
“I know, but we’re having a tough time.” She didn’t bother hiding her feelings. “It’s not a bad deal. The pay is decent, I can assure you. Keiko was a senior staff member, so she had Sundays off. If the job is unsuitable, you can just quit. But I’m sure you’ll do well. Younger teachers are always popular amongst the students.”
I was at a loss for words. “It sounds like a great plan, but the school’s owner might not want to hire me.”
“Don’t worry, the owner’s getting desperate,” she said, laughing.
She made it sound like an offer with no downsides. I had to admit, it sounded better than spending my days eating and lying around like a sea lion.
I creased my brow. “So you’ll introduce me to the owner and . . .”
“Head over to the principal’s office after you finish your coffee. It’s right around the corner, behind the tall partition. I’ll go talk to him now.” She took her mug and walked off. Before she left, she turned and said, “I’m the owner, by the way.”
Oh, nice.
I took a sip of the coffee. It tasted horrible.
To call the principal’s room an office was an overstatement. In truth, it was a small section of the fourth floor, walled by moveable panels.
The principal was a middle-aged man with white hair—more likely from genetics than a stressful lifestyle—but what caught my eye was the potted plant on top of his desk. I’d never seen anything like it, with its bright, peculiar multicolored leaves.
“You must be Ren Ishida.” He gestured to me to take a seat. “I’ve heard from Hiroko that you’re finishing up your graduate studies at Keio.”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. Keio is a top university. You can’t go wrong with Ryutaro Hashimoto’s alma mater. Personally, I think he’s going to be the next prime minister.” The principal opened his desk drawer and rummaged through it. “Can you start a week from tomorrow?”
That was very soon. I didn’t even have a permanent place to stay yet. “Would it be possible to start on Wednesday instead?”
“Wednesday it is.” He singled out two identical copies of a booklet and opened one. Pressing the spine, he placed it on the desk and drew a tiny X. “Please sign here.”
He wanted me to sign the contract without reading it? Against my better judgment, I did as instructed. The principal took the copy I had signed and handed me the other.
“I almost forgot.” He removed a folder from the same drawer. “Here is Keiko’s file.”
“Thank you.”
He gave me a firm handshake. “Welcome to Yotsuba. We’ll see you next week. Please arrive before two-thirty.”
And that was it. I had my first white-collar job. In the end, I didn’t take home a single item from my sister’s desk.
Honda called me that evening.
“I hear you’ll be working with us,” he said, sounding upbeat.
I laughed. “A surprising turn of events, don’t you think? It’ll just be for a few months.”
“Give it a try. You might end up liking the job.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Is the owner really that lady, Hiroko?”
“In a way, yes. Why do you ask?”
“She looks young.”
“The school is a family business founded by her grandfather,” he said. “Her father used to run the business. Recently, he was unwell, so Hiroko took over. But don’t worry—despite her age, she’s capable of doing the job.”
So it was a position she’d inherited, not one she’d chosen. “I’m not worried. Just cur
ious.”
“So she was the one who recruited you? Well, she’s been telling us we need to hire more young, handsome men to motivate the female students. Most of the male teachers are way past their prime.”
I replied with a dry laugh.
“Hey Ishida, are you free this coming Sunday? It’s my day off. Let’s go for lunch to celebrate your new job.”
I sighed. “Sunday isn’t good. I have an appointment in the morning with my sister’s landlord, so I can collect her belongings. I’m not sure what time I’ll be done.”
“I can drive you. It’s easier to move things with a car.”
Honda had been extremely helpful, but I didn’t want to trouble him further. “It’s all right, I can take a taxi.”
“Don’t waste your money. I’ve got nothing planned, anyway. Or how about this, you can treat me to lunch afterward.”
It didn’t sound as if he would take no for an answer. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
“No problem at all,” he said. “Where’s the place?”
I took out the paper in my wallet with my sister’s address scribbled on it in my hastiest handwriting. “It’s in Segayaki.”
“Segayaki?” He sounded surprised. “That’s quite an upscale district. I wouldn’t have guessed Keiko lived there. Her landlord must be wealthy.”
“Someone named Kosugi Katou,” I murmured, staring at the piece of paper.
“Kosugi Katou?” Honda said, his voice slightly raised. “You must be kidding.”
“Do you know him?”
“Of course I do. Everyone in Akakawa knows him.”
“Is he a celebrity?”
He laughed. “I guess you could say that.”
5
The
Politician
and
His
Wife
Kosugi Katou was, indeed, a kind of celebrity.
“He’s a politician. Everyone here knows who he is. He comes from a family of high-ranking officials and established politicians,” Honda said. “Have you heard of Ryu Katou, the Diet member? That’s his uncle.”
The name sounded familiar, but I wasn’t into politics.
“Look at this house. It’s huge.”
I nodded and pressed the doorbell. We stood in front of a white, Western-style terrace house located in a pleasant neighborhood, peaceful and quiet.
The door opened and a middle-aged man greeted us. He wore a crumpled formal dark suit, oddly paired with beige house slippers. I caught a glimpse of thick white socks around his ankles.
Kosugi Katou looked unhappy that we had turned up at his house. But after a while, I realized it was just the deep wrinkles around his forehead, causing him to look perpetually grumpy. We introduced ourselves. He nodded once before beckoning us in. A man of few words apparently. We took our shoes off and followed him.
The living room was spacious. All the furniture was Western-style and painted or upholstered in white. The giant windows were adorned with thin lace curtains. They waved around as the wind blew, reminding me of goldfish tails.
Walking through a passageway, we passed a reading room and a home office. Rows of oil paintings hung on the wall. All were pictures of rural landscapes, and judging from the similar style, they were done by the same person.
“Did you paint these yourself, Mr. Katou?” Honda asked.
“No, my wife did,” he answered, the first time he’d spoken.
His tone was exactly the same as the one he’d used on the phone, flat and serious. He came across as cold to me. I heard somewhere that politicians are the loneliest people on the planet. There must be some truth to it.
The room my sister had occupied was spacious for one person. A bed with a matching nightstand stood in the middle of the room, both adorned with stencils of English roses. There was also a white wooden wardrobe near the door and a desk over by the window, exactly as I had always pictured. My chest felt heavy.
“I’ll be in the reading room,” Mr. Katou said before leaving us alone.
We stood there awkwardly and looked at each other.
“So, what’s the plan?” Honda asked.
“I’ll sort through her belongings,” I said. “Most of them will probably go to charity.”
“Are you sure your folks at home won’t want her stuff?”
I thought about my parents. “No, I don’t think so.” They would want nothing to do with her, or her memories.
I started with the wardrobe. It had a main compartment, a shelf on top, and a drawer below. Formal dresses filled the compartment. My sister had hung them by color. Black to gray to white, followed by brown and beige, and finally, the more brightly colored ones. A systematic, yet appealing arrangement. Beneath that, blouses, T-shirts, and pajamas were folded neatly and divided into four stacks. Most of her clothes looked completely unfamiliar, which reminded me how little we had seen each other after she’d moved to Akakawa.
I noticed that my sister hadn’t owned any pants or shorts. I tried to recall whether I’d ever seen her wear any. No, I never had, except for her school sports uniform.
On the shelf, she kept towels, bedsheets, and handbags. She had stuffed all her bags with tissue paper for them to retain their shapes. I knew my sister had always been organized, but was surprised by this level of meticulousness.
I opened the drawer below and found underwear, stockings, and scarves. They were also ordered by color. Remembering what the detective had said, I shuddered at the thought that the scarves might have been used as blindfolds. Would it be better if I’d never known that?
As I was about to close the drawer, I caught a glimpse of something shiny amidst the rolled stockings. I took it out for a closer look. A half-empty bottle of Estée Lauder perfume. I opened the cap and sniffed it. It had a cool, musky scent, a classic American elegance. The fragrance reminded me of the crispness of clean sheets on a breezy early summer day.
After the wardrobe, I moved to the bedside table. The top drawer had a divider. The left side was filled with batteries and cables, while the right side contained several neat piles of jazz cassettes. I opened the door to the shelf below and found a stereo. I pictured my sister lying on her bed, listening to jazz with her eyes closed. I took a deep breath to quell my emotions.
The surface of the desk was empty, except for a study lamp and a red phone. The phone was smooth and shiny, reflecting the sunlight. The side facing the window had faded, and the cord was slightly tangled. It was hard for me to look at. Just last week, my sister had used that phone to call me, and now she was gone.
“Are you okay?” Honda asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
Pulling out the drawer on the left underneath, I found a couple of books and folders. I took them out and put them on the desk. They were all work-related.
“Do you think I need to return any of these?” I asked Honda.
He peered over my shoulder. “I doubt it. Everyone has a copy of their own. The school will give you a new set when you start working.”
Still, I inspected them one by one. As I was flipping through one of the books, a piece of paper fell out. Something told me it might be important. Without looking at it, I slipped it into my pocket. I glanced at Honda, who was facing the other way and hadn’t seen what I’d done.
I circled the room to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. There was a rubbish bin under the desk and a laundry basket near the wardrobe; both were empty. That should be it.
“I’m done,” I said.
“That was fast,” Honda said. “What are you planning to keep?”
“Probably the stereo and jazz cassettes. I need some cardboard boxes to pack everything else.”
“We have some of those at the office, but that means we can’t finish up today. Why don’t you talk to Mr. Katou to see if he minds?”
; We left my sister’s bedroom and went to the reading room. The gentle tinkle of wind chimes echoed through the house whenever the wind blew. I wouldn’t have heard the sound if the place hadn’t been so incredibly still.
“What’s on your mind, Ishida?” Honda asked.
“It’s so quiet here,” I answered.
“I think it’s because he doesn’t have a television.”
Now that Honda mentioned it, I hadn’t seen one. But everyone had a television in this day and age. I figured it must be hidden inside one of the rooms.
But later on, I learned there really was no television. Mr. Katou had made the house his sanctuary, where he could be free from the pressures of the outside world. He’d gotten rid of anything that might upset him; he didn’t want to be disrupted at home by news about his political rivals or recent changes in the cabinet. Indeed, politicians are the loneliest people on the planet.
The reading room was impressive for a private collection. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covered the walls. In the middle of the large room, four leather couches encircled a coffee table with a jeweled keepsake box on top.
Mr. Katou was on the couch reading a book. Seeing us, he put it down and invited us to sit. “Have you settled everything you needed to?”
“My apologies, but we came unprepared,” I said. “Would you be willing to give us a few days? We’ll return with cardboard boxes to pack the items.”
“There’s no rush, since the room isn’t occupied.”
“Is there any rent I need to settle?” I didn’t have much money on me, but I figured I should ask.
“Don’t worry, there was no rent in the first place.”
“Excuse me?”
He was silent for a while. “I had an agreement with Miss Ishida.”
I wondered what this implied, but he had stopped speaking, and I could tell he had no desire to talk about it. The atmosphere became tense. I turned to Honda, who was already looking at me. The three of us remained silent for some time.
Rainbirds Page 4