by Kotaro Isaka
"1 bet it's a madhouse out there," Akira said at last. Since the restaurant was below street level, they couldn't see what was going on outside. "Must be nothing but fire trucks and ambulances."
To Haruko it seemed that the place had darkened, the air grown thick. It felt as if they were in the one safe refuge, and the outside world had become uninhabitable. They couldn't get out even if they wanted to.
THE INCIDENT
"You'd better go get your daughter," Akira said. "The traffic will be impossible."
"You're probably right," Haruko nodded, impressed at how calm her friend appeared. She stood up, but all the other customers seemed to have come to the same conclusion, and there was a long line at the cash register.
"Who would do something like that?" Akira said as she fished some change out of her purse.
"Maybe a rival who wanted him out of the way?" said Haruko.
"Or a crazy who was planning to commit suicide and decided to go out with a bang?"
"It could be. You'd have to be crazy to do it that way."
They finally reached the head of the line, paid for their lunch, and left the restaurant. Climbing the stairs to the street, they were surprised to see that it was a sunny day.
"Is that smoke?" Akira said, pointing in the direction of Higashi Nihan-cho. Something white seemed to be rising to meet the fluffy clouds that dotted the pale blue sky, as though the clouds had grown a tail.
"1 can't believe this happened here," Haruko said. If they started walking along this very street, in fifteen minutes they'd he at the spot where a prime minister had been killed. It seemed inconceivable.
Hearing a beep from her pocket, Akira took out her cell phone and checked her email. Haruko checked hers as well. A moment later, Akira let out a little crv.
"What?" Haruko asked.
"It was from Masakado. He wants to know whether I'll go snorkeling with him this Saturday!"
Haruko hurst out laughing. "Pretty relaxed, isn't he? Do you think he doesn't know what's haj)j)ening?"
".Maybe not. He's oh today, and he's probably just hanging out at a ct)ffee sho|) reading manga. Hut he's on to something whether he knows it or not: it seems like the whole world could he going to hell, hut we just go along as usual, show up at the ollice, go to the beach. World War ITiree could start, hut 1 dcjuht they'd cancel a good j)arty lor it."
"1 see your point," Haruko said. A major disaster hap|)ens right here in Sendai, and all I really care about is whether my little girl is okay, how long
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Illy husband is going to be away on business, what to make for dinner, or the price of some lipstick I found on the Internet.
It was after seven when Haruko had a call from her husband, Nobuyuki, who was in Osaka on a business trip.
"1 was in a meeting all day so I didn't know. I couldn't believe it when I got back to the hotel and turned on the TV. It must be crazy there. Are you and Nanami okay?"
"Calm down," Haruko laughed. It was out of character for him to put more than two sentences together.
"But I've been worried about you, really," he said.
"Then I guess you should drop everything and come home." She was trying to sound insistent. "If you're really worried, that's what I would do."
"Hello?" he said, his voice muffled. It was a trick he often used when he wanted to avoid a subject. "1 didn't catch that. Must be a bad connection. What did you say?"
Familiar with the routine, Haruko didn't bother trying to continue the conversation but instead held the phone out to her daughter who was playing at her feet.
"Daddy? Are you coming home?" Nanami asked.
"How are you, sweetie? I'm afraid I've got some more work to do here."
Haruko reclaimed the phone. "That's better, static-free again. Now can you hear this? Why don't you come back?"
"I can't. I've got another meeting tomorrow."
"But can it really be all that important? What would you do if something happened to us?"
"I'd come straight home, of course."
"Then pretend it has," Haruko said, not wanting to let him off the hook.
"I'm really sorry, but I can't now. And anyway, you're both all right."
"We are," she admitted. "Things are crazy and Nanami's kindergarten is closed tomorrow, but that's about it."
"Tm glad to hear it," he said. They talked only a minute more.
"What did Daddy say?" Nanami asked when her mother was free again. She trailed after her, tugging at the hem of her skirt.
"He said he'd come home when you start eating your cucumber," said Hamko.
THE INCIDENT
"Then we should just let him stay there," said Nanami. She didn't like cucumber.
"Poor Daddy," Haruko laughed.
The footage of the prime minister's parade and the flight of the model helicopter played nonstop on the television in the background, like newsworthy events from some distant country.
But these events were much closer to home. The next morning, she was sitting at the kitchen table spreading jam on a piece of toast, after switching on the TV. Her hand froze in midair. The image on the screen was that of the prime suspect in the case—a man she knew very well. "What have you done?" she murmured in spite of herself. "What can you have done?"
"Who's that?" Nanami said, pointing. "Is he a bad man? What did he do?"
Haruko tried to focus on what the announcer was saying. The pictures were from two years ago, background clips from a news show when Masa-haru Aoyagi had rescued that young celebrity while making a delivery. "It's shocking to think it could be him," the announcer was saying, with a tremor in his voice. Haruko nodded unconsciously. That's him, she told herself, but what kind of joke is this? What are they saying about him? The announcer added that he had quit his job three months earlier. She continued watching the program, but she couldn't make out why he was a suspect.
Realizing she was still spreading jam distractedly on the toast, she stopped and took a bite. It was impossible to swallow at first, but a sip of milk helped to wash it down. She got up and found her cell phone, deciding that she should simply call him, but then realized she didn't know his number.
"Are you calling Daddy?" Nanami asked. "Mommy, is something wrong?"
Haruko Migiichi
"Is something wrong?" a voice had asked Haruko eleven years earlier, iiiul then, too, it had made her realize that she had been staring blankly into Sj)ace. '1 he voice was that of Kyoji Takeda, a teacher at the cram school where Haruk(j w(jrked. Haruko's position was temporary, only lor the winter break
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from college, hut Takeda was five years older and a full-time employee. One of the other part-timers had said that he'd been head-hunted away from another well-known school the year before. Haruko didn't know whether this was true, hut it was clear that he was liked and trusted by the students.
"Sorry," Haruko said looking quickly back at the tests she'd been grading. "1 was daydreaming."
"The little ones are still pretty cute, aren't they?" he said, dropping into the chair next to her. Haruko was in charge of an elementary school class.
"They are," she agreed. "A bit naughty sometimes, but basically sweet."
"Then they hit middle school and suddenly they're all grown up."
"1 know what you mean," she said, remembering her own middle school days.
"There's only a year between sixth and seventh graders, but somehow there's all the difference in the world. You know why?"
"Puberty?" Haruko said, holding her index firiger up like a child giving a clever answer.
Takeda burst out laughing. "1 suppose that's part of it. But basically we all take our cues from the people around us. Sixth graders are the oldest kids in the elementary school, so they set the tone for all the younger ones. But once they're in middle school, for better or worse, they come under the influence of the ninth graders—who are in the full throes of puberty. So, even though they're only a year older, the s
eventh graders act like they've suddenly aged three years."
"Which is why sixth graders happily run around in shorts at school, but seventh graders suddenly wouldn't be caught dead in them." Haruko liked seeing her boys in shorts, but by middle school it was mostly long pants and uniforms.
"Plus puberty." Takeda smiled again. His horn-rimmed glasses gave him a serious look, but he had a pleasant, easygoing way about him.
"Why did you decide to become a teacher?" Haruko asked, beginning to pack her books away in her briefcase. The topic didn't particularly interest her, but it seemed like a reasonable question to ask. Instead of giving a glib answer, though, he looked unexpectedly thoughtful.
"1 don't know," he murmured. "I suppose I like working with kids."
"Makes sense," she said. She realized that she didn't dislike him, but there
THE INCIDENT
was something about his self-confidence that made her uncomfortable. "Though it hasn't been so long since you were a kid yourself," she said.
"Flattery will get you everwhere," he laughed, then abruptly changed the subject. "Do you ever think about what you want to do with your life? When to get married, that kind of thing?"
"Marriage?" she said. "1 always thought around thirty." She'd never given the matter much thought but tried to sound as though she had. "But 1 can also see myself staying single a lot longer."
"Then there's not some guy out there you've got your eye on?"
"Definitely not," she said, frowning with mock distaste.
"You're kidding. You don't have a boyfriend?"
Haruko could feel the conversation heading somewhere she didn't want to go, but she could hardly ignore the question. "No," she said. She could also feel the pressure to ask the next question in turn, as much as she didn't want to: "And how about you? Is there anyone special?"
"No, no one."
"No?" she said, as flatly as she could. And with that, the conversation died as though sucked into a hole that had opened up in the air. How awkward, Haruko told herself, getting to her feet.
"Can 1 drop you at the station?" he said, getting up, too. His tone was utterly natural. "1 was just leaving myself." He glanced at the clock on the wall and her eyes followed his. Nearly nine.
Kyoji lakeda was a good driver. He drove fast, changing lanes frequently and passing slower cars one after another. "Haruko," he said, as he stopped at a red light, "do you have any plans for this evening?"
.Maybe because it was warm in the car, she had started to feel sleepy almost as sor^n as they'd left the school. "No," she answered without thinking. "Nothing in particular."
"Why don't we go and see how Saihoji 'remj)le looks at night?" he saitl, as thcjugh the idea had just occurred to him. Haruko wondered why she would want to go somewhere she'd been to dozens ol times belore, but in her sleej)y state she was about to grunt her assent, when the light turned green. Something about the color her hall-open eyes had seen made her think ol Aoyagi—perha|)S because the first character in his name meant "grc*en"—but
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as liis face popped into her head, she sat bolt upright and let out a yelp. "What?!" Takeda almost shouted, his head snapping hack in surprise, making the car jerk.
"I nearly forgot!"
"Forgot what?"
"1 have a date! Could you drop me on Hirose Avenue? Please?" she said, putting her hands together in mock supplication and closing her eyes to avoid seeing his reaction.
"No problem," he said, arid she felt the car accelerate.
"I'm sorry, and thanks," she said, thinking he was hurrying for her sake.
Takeda grunted and started punching numbers on his cell phone. "It's me," he said when the call went through. "You want to go out for a drink?" He seemed to have forgotten about Haruko already.
"I was afraid you weren't coming," Aoyagi said as she got out of the car and ran over to him. He was wearing a black jacket, standing in front of the Fashion Building where they had agreed to meet. There was something appealing about the way he stood there, back hunched against the cold, hands deep in his pockets.
The lights of the city seemed brighter than usual as the crowds made their way through the arcades. Traffic was heavy on Hirose Avenue. Aoyagi had joined the knot of young people waiting at a popular meeting spot.
Haruko smiled and shook her head. "No, 1 was the one who wanted to go. Why would you think that?" She had spotted an ad for a one-night, late-show revival of an old horror film and told Aoyagi that they shouldn't miss it. How could she tell him now that she'd forgotten all about it until a few minutes ago?
"Well, I suppose because you weren't here when the movie started," Aoyagi said.
"Am I that late?" She checked her watch and gave a startled shrug as though just realizing the time. "I wish they could have waited for us."
"I don't know what kind of movie theaters you go to, but I don't think they usually do that."
A group of people about their age were talking in a tight circle nearby, their hands as deep in their pockets as Aoyagi's.
THE INCIDENT
''I'm sorry I made you stand out here all this time/' she said.
"I've been calling your cell and texting you for the last hour. Didn't you notice?"
"Oh!" she blurted out, groping in her pocket for her phone. "I did. 1 just got them."
"Just got them?" Aoyagi snorted.
"I was at work, and the phone was turned off."
"You could have checked your messages."
"I was going to, at 9:30," she said.
"The whole point of a cell phone is that you have it with you, so people can get in touch."
"But it wasn't an emergency," she pointed out.
"But if it had been, what good would it have done to check at 9:30? I could have been dead for all you'd know."
"Okay, okay. I get it. Tm sorry."
"And who was the guy in the car?" He pointed at the line of traffic along Hirose Avenue.
"Oh," Haruko said, understanding at last what was bothering him. "That was Kyoji, Kyoji Takeda. He teaches at the school."
Aoyagi snorted again and stuck out a lip. Then he pointed his finger at her. "And that suit, that's what you wear to work?"
"School rules. Teachers have to wear suits."
"Do you know how much time I spent trying to decide what to wear tonight—just to go to the movies with you?"
"And you look very nice," she said.
"T hat's not what I mean!" he bleated. He seemed on the verge of a tantrum, but apparently thought better of it. "Oh well," he said more quietly. "You want to get something to eat?"
"Sure. There must be a burger j)lace o|)en late."
"We don't have to be friends ol fast f'ood tonight."
"1 suppose not."
"You know," he said, sounding more serious, "this is the first lime we've been out together, just the two ol us." Haruko nodded, just reali/ing this lact herselt.
Aoyagi took a deep breath and then gave an odd link* laugh. "Oh wi*ll,"
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lie said again, and set off down the street. Haruko fell in step next to him. "Would you really have checked your phone at 9:30?" he asked.
"C')f course," she said.
"Well, after this, just be on time."
"Without fail!" she laughed.
Masaharu Aoyagi
Aoyagi checked the clock. Four already. He looked over at the thick curtains covering the windows and wondered whether the lights were visible from outside. Leaning against a wall, he looked around the room. It felt strange to be waiting here in an apartment where he had made so many deliveries, as though the doorbell was about to ring and he would see himself come through the door with a package.
A map had been thumbtacked to the wall. It showed a large country somewhere, but Aoyagi couldn't tell which one. Changes in elevation were marked with fine gradations of color, and he imagined Mr. Inai trudging through this variegated landscape.
Three hours ago, Aoyagi had
jumped from the bridge onto the canopy of Maezono's truck, and then down to the pavement. A quick peek had confirmed that his friend was napping peacefully in the driver's seat. It was hard to believe anyone could sleep so soundly that he wouldn't notice a body falling on his truck, and Aoyagi was tempted to tap on the window and wake him up. But there was no time.
He must have shocked the men on the bridge by jumping, but it was only a matter of time—seconds at most—before they realized what had happened and came after him. He jumped the guardrail, bolted down the sidewalk, and turned in at the first corner. What the fuck? he muttered over and over to himself as he ran.
He needed a place to rest, and think. The idea of another taxi occurred to him, but the danger of being trapped in traffic was too great. A coffee shop
THE INCIDENT
or a movie theater? No, if they did manage to find him in a place like that, there'd be no room for him to slip away.
So that left a house or an apartment. He needed someone to hide him until he could explain what had happened, until everyone had calmed down. "Hide him?" The words made him wince. Why did he need a place to hide when he hadn't done anything wrong?
He wanted to call someone to ask what was happening to him. But who? He wasn't sure he knew anyone in Sendai who would want to hear from him now, who would believe what he had to say. The first person who came to mind was Morita—and his absence amazed and frightened him. Then he thought of Kazu. When he'd turned a few more corners and put a little more distance between himself and the bridge, he took out his phone. It had been more than two years since they'd talked. Not since Aoyagi's fifteen minutes of fame. Kazu had called, all excited. "You bastard! Getting to meet Rinka. I've been telling everybody, I knew you back in the day!" Aoyagi managed to retrieve the number he'd stored after that call, and he dialed it now.
As he listened to the phone ring, he slowed to a walk; he was out of breath and his hand was shaking. Finally, the recording came on, asking him to leave a message. He hesitated, tempted to hang up, but just then a cat jumped out of a hedge on the side of the road. T he tone sounded. "It's me, Aoyagi," he said, almost involuntarily. Then he didn't know what else to say. After a few moments of silence, the tone sounded again and his time was up.