The detective stopped speaking and Yoshio sat there, glaring at him.
“So who was my daughter meeting, then? Don’t hide anything from me. Was it someone from one of those dating sites or…” He couldn’t go on.
After the detective had finished his explanation and left, Yoshio slumped down in one of the barber chairs. Satoko, still seated formally at the entrance, was wringing her hands and sobbing.
Our daughter is killed and she cries, he thought. They can’t find the criminal and she cries, and she cries when it turns out the suspect is innocent.
According to the detective, Yoshino was supposed to meet a blond man with a white car. Yet she lied to her colleagues from work, and when she left them told them she was meeting this college student named Keigo Masuo. And even though she was meeting this other man, she only exchanged a few words with him and went with Masuo, whom she’d run into by accident.
They were talking about his daughter, the daughter he’d raised, but when Yoshio reviewed the events of that night, he just couldn’t picture Yoshino being part of it. It felt like someone else, some unknown woman who’d been pretending to be Yoshino.
When the two of them arrived at Mitsuse Pass they got into some kind of argument. Yoshio had no idea what they argued about, but that guy literally kicked my daughter out of the car, he thought. On that dark, deserted mountain road-he kicked my daughter out!
The detective had said they didn’t know yet exactly what happened after that. The chances were good that the man she was waiting for in Higashi Park knew something about it.
Yoshio had been sure all the time that the college student had done it. He’d promised himself that when they caught him he’d kill him himself, with his own hands, right in front of his rich parents with their high-priced inns.
Yoshio realized that he’d been hoping that this college student was indeed the murderer. Otherwise, he thought, my daughter has been snatched away by some unknown man, some man she met in an indecent way. My daughter isn’t the type of girl that TV programs and magazines should find amusing. She just happened to meet some stupid college student and got killed by him. She wasn’t like those disgusting girls you see on TV and in the magazines all the time. She couldn’t be! Satoko and I didn’t raise her like that. The daughter we raised so lovingly-there’s no way she could be like all those idiots on TV.
Yoshio took the white barber’s coat he’d been clutching and flung it at the mirror he’d been staring at. The coat just spread out and barely grazed it.
Yoshio got to his feet and leaped out of the shop. If he sat there any longer, he knew he was going to scream. As he closed the front door he heard Satoko calling out “Honey!” to him, but Yoshio was already running.
Yuichi drove through Tosu and then toward Yobuko. The scenery flowing past changed, but they never seemed to get anywhere. When the interstate ended, it connected up with the prefectural highway, and past that were city and local roads. Mitsuyo had a road atlas spread out on the dashboard. She flipped through the maps and saw that the highways and roads were all color-coded. Interstates were orange, prefectural highways were green, local roads were blue, and smaller roads were white. The countless roads were a net, a web that had caught them and the car they were in. All she was doing was taking off from work and going for a drive with a guy she liked, but the more they tried to run away, the more the web of roads pursued them.
To shake off this bad feeling, Mitsuyo snapped the book shut. Yuichi glanced over at the sound and she lied, saying, “Looking at maps in the car makes me feel kind of queasy.”
“I know the way to Yobuko,” he said.
That morning, after they’d left the love hotel and eaten the rice balls they’d bought at the convenience store, Mitsuyo had asked him, “Shouldn’t you call your work and let them know you won’t be in?”
“No, it’s okay” was all he said, shaking his head and avoiding her eyes.
She knew it didn’t make up for Yuichi not calling, but Mitsuyo phoned her sister, who was already at work.
“Oh, thank goodness!” she said. “I was thinking that if you didn’t get in touch today, I might have to call the police.” She sounded both relieved and angry.
“I’m really sorry,” Mitsuyo said. “A whole bunch of things happened-nothing to worry about, though. Anyway, I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.”
“You mean you’ll be back today?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? I thought you might be at work, so I phoned your store. Mrs. Mizutani said, Gee, sorry to hear about your father. I played along, but come on, Mitsuyo…”
“Sorry. Thanks for covering for me.”
“What’s happened? You gotta tell me.”
“I don’t know… I just wanted to take a day off. You’ve done that yourself, right? Remember when you were a caddie and played hooky from work?”
Yuichi was listening intently to this conversation as he drove.
“Is that all?” Tamayo asked, still not totally convinced.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Mitsuyo insisted.
“Well, okay then… But, where are you?”
“I’m on a drive.”
“A drive? With who?”
“With who? Well, it’s sort of…” She hadn’t meant to do so, but she realized her voice had softened, making it obvious to her sister that she was with a man.
Picking up on this, Tamayo said, more loudly this time, “No! Are you kidding me? When did this happen?”
“I’ll tell you all about it when I get back,” Mitsuyo replied.
They had just entered Yobuko Harbor, where there were stands lining the road selling dried squid.
Tamayo still wanted more information, but Mitsuyo cut her off and was about to hang up, when she heard Tamayo say, “Is it somebody I know?”
“See ya,” Mitsuyo said, and hung up.
They parked in the parking lot away from the harbor, and when they got out of the car they were hit by a blast of cold wind from the sea. There were several more stands near the parking lot, and the wind blew the strands of dried squid hanging down.
Mitsuyo shivered. “The food there is really good,” she said to Yuichi as they got out of the car. She pointed to a bed-and-breakfast-cum-restaurant next to the seaside.
When Yuichi didn’t reply she turned to him, and he suddenly murmured, “Thank you.”
“Huh?” Mitsuyo said, holding down her hair in the sea wind.
“For being with me the whole day,” Yuichi said. He was still clutching the car keys tightly.
“But I told you yesterday. How I’d always be with you.”
“Thanks… Let’s eat some squid over there and then drive out to see the lighthouse. It’s kind of a small lighthouse, but they have a little park there with a great view from the end of it. And it’s nice just to walk there.” Yuichi had hardly said a word in the car, but now the words poured out of him.
“Okay.”
The sudden change in him left Mitsuyo at a loss for words. A young couple in another car drove into the parking lot, and Mitsuyo took Yuichi’s arm to guide him out of the way so the other car could pass.
“Is squid really all they have?” Yuichi asked cheerfully, as if something had been opened inside of him.
Taken by surprise, Mitsuyo nodded, “Ah, yeah,” and went on to explain the menu. “You start off with squid sashimi, then they have deep-fried legs or tempura…”
It wasn’t yet noon but the restaurant was filling up. The tables on the first floor, which ringed a tank of live fish, were full, so when Mitsuyo told the middle-aged waitress in her white apron that there were just the two of them, she urged them to try the second floor.
They went up the stairs and removed their shoes. They were led down a creaky hallway to a dining room with a large window overlooking the sea. The room would probably fill up soon, but at this point it was empty, with eight tables lined up on the worn-out tatami. Mitsuyo went straight to
a table by the window. Yuichi, seated across from her, couldn’t keep his eyes off the scene of the harbor below them. There were rows of squid-fishing boats, and far off, beyond the breakwater, the surface of the sea glittered in the winter sun, white-caps leaping about. Even with the window closed they could hear the sound of the waves breaking against the wharf.
“The view’s much better from here than on the first floor,” Mitsuyo said as she wiped her hands with the hot towels. “We kind of lucked out.”
“Have you been here before?” Yuichi asked.
“My sister and I came here a couple of times, but we were always on the first floor. The first floor’s okay, though, with the live-fish tank and everything.”
The waitress brought them hot tea and Mitsuyo ordered two set lunches. As she turned to look at the scenery outside Yuichi murmured, “It reminds me of my neighborhood.”
“Oh, that’s right. Your house is on a harbor, isn’t it?”
“Not a harbor like this, just a fishing village.”
“You’re lucky. I love this scenery. You know they have those articles in magazines that introduce fancy restaurants in Hakata or Tokyo? Every time I see the seafood in those articles, I think, I bet it’s expensive and doesn’t taste half as good as the squid in Yobuko.”
“But don’t girls like that kind of restaurant?”
“My younger sister always wants to go that famous French place in Tenjin, I forget the name. I like places like this. The food’s so much better. On TV they’d probably say the food here is second-rate gourmet fare or something. I can’t stand that. ’Cause the ingredients here are great.”
Mitsuyo got all this out in a burst of enthusiasm. Without realizing it, she was getting increasingly excited at the prospect of skipping work and having the whole day free. She suddenly noticed that Yuichi’s shoulders were trembling and his eyes were red.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. Yuichi’s fists were balled tight on the tabletop and were audibly shaking.
“I-I killed someone.”
“What?!”
“I’m sorry…”
For a moment she couldn’t grasp what he was saying. “What?” she repeated, startled. Yuichi just looked down, clenching his fists and didn’t say another word. His eyes were tearful, his shoulders trembling. Mitsuyo stared at his tightly clenched fists on the cheap tabletop. She could see them, right in front of her.
“Wait a second. What are you telling me?” Mitsuyo reached out her own hand but then, confused, pulled it back. It felt like somebody else’s hand.
“You killed somebody?” she said. Outside the window was the calm harbor. The fishing boats bobbed in the water, their lines creaking.
“I know I should have told you before this. But I couldn’t. When I was with you, it felt like all of this might disappear. Though I knew it wouldn’t… I wanted to be with you today, just one more day together with you. Yesterday I was thinking of telling you in the car, but I didn’t know if I could get the whole story out.” Yuichi’s voice trembled terribly, as if shaking in the waves.
“Before I met you I knew another girl. She lived in Hakata…” He paused after each word. For some reason Mitsuyo recalled the pier they’d just been walking along. It was beautiful off in the distance, but now she saw all the garbage floating there, washed by the waves. A plastic bottle of laundry detergent, a filthy Styrofoam box. A single beach sandal.
“I got to know her through the Internet and met her a few times. She told me if I wanted to see her I had to pay for it…”
Just then the fusuma slid open and the middle-aged waitress in her apron came in carrying a large serving plate.
“Sorry it took so long.”
She placed the heavy-looking plate on the table.
“You can use the soy sauce on the table there.”
The white plate was heaped high with colorful seaweed, on top of which was an entire squid. Its body was translucent, clear through to the seaweed below. Its silvery, metallic-looking eyes were unfocused and stared into space. Its legs alone were still writhing, as if they could escape from the plate.
“The legs and whatever else you leave we’ll make into tempura or deep-fry for you,” the waitress explained, giving the table a tap for emphasis, and then she stood up. They thought she was about to leave, but she suddenly turned to them. “I see I haven’t gotten your drink orders yet,” she said with a friendly smile. “Shall I bring beer or something?”
Mitsuyo shook her head quickly. “No, we’re fine,” she said, her hands, for some reason, held up as if holding a steering wheel.
The waitress left, keeping the fusuma open behind her. The two of them were alone again in the dining room. Yuichi sat there, head hung down, in front of the plate of squid. Though she’d just heard an unbelievable confession from him, Mitsuyo still reached out and, almost without thinking, poured soy sauce into two smaller plates.
She stared at the two plates with soy sauce for a moment, unsure what to do, then pushed one in front of Yuichi.
“I don’t know where to begin,” Yuichi murmured as he stared at the plate. He paused. “That night that girl and I had made a date to meet. In a place called Higashi Park in Hakata.”
As he began, Mitsuyo found herself wanting to ask questions, but she held back. What kind of woman was she? How many times had they met before this? Yuichi’s story tumbled out in bursts, and in the gaps, Mitsuyo thought of one question after another. Finally she asked, “When did all this happen?”
Yuichi looked up. He tried to reply, but his lips were trembling so much he couldn’t form the words.
“Before I met you…” he managed to say. “Remember when you sent me e-mails? It was before that…”
“You mean the first message?”
Yuichi shook his head listlessly.
“I didn’t know what to do back then… I couldn’t sleep, it was terrible, and I wanted to talk with somebody… And then you started e-mailing me…”
They could hear the waitress greeting newly arrived customers down the corridor.
“That night I made a date to meet her, but she made a date to meet another guy at the same place. ‘I don’t have time to see you tonight,’ she said, and got in this other guy’s car. And they took off somewhere… I felt like she was laughing at me and I couldn’t stand it, so I followed them…”
On the table in front of them, the squid’s legs were squirming and writhing.
The night was cold, so cold he could see his breath.
In his rearview mirror he saw Yoshino, walking along the path by the park. Yuichi gave his horn a tap to signal her. Startled by the sound, Yoshino stopped for a moment, stared ahead of her, and then hurried over. It all happened quickly. She didn’t run to his car, but ran right past him. Flustered, he turned to see where she was going and saw her run up to a man he’d never seen before.
Yoshino grabbed the man’s arm in a friendly way and started to talk with him. The whole time the man was looking over in Yuichi’s direction with this spiteful look in his eyes. It must be a coincidence, her meeting him here. Once she said hello, she’d come back to him.
As he expected, Yoshino soon walked over. Yuichi was about to open the passenger door, but anticipating this, Yoshino picked up the pace, opened the door herself, and said, “Sorry. Tonight’s not going to work out. Just transfer the money to my account. I’ll e-mail you the info later.”
Then she slammed the door shut and almost skipped back to where the other man was. It happened so quickly. So quickly he had no time to even open his mouth, let alone figure out how he felt.
The man standing in the road wasn’t looking at Yoshino as she approached, but at Yuichi, staring at him. He seemed to be smiling, laughing at Yuichi, but Yuichi couldn’t tell if that was just the way the light from the streetlight hit him.
Yoshino got in the man’s car without glancing back at Yuichi. The car was a dark blue Audi A6, the kind Yuichi could never afford no matter what kind of loan he put together. The c
ar headed down the empty, tree-lined road beside the park, its exhaust white in the freezing night air.
I’ve been abandoned, Yuichi realized. The little scene had been so abrupt. He felt his blood boil beneath his skin, as if his whole body were engorged by anger.
Yuichi stepped on the accelerator and sped away. The man’s car was up ahead at an intersection, about to turn left. Yuichi had shot off so fast it almost appeared that he intended to ram the other car from behind. Actually what he had in mind was to cut it off from the front and grab Yoshino to get her back. It was less an articulate thought, though, than a physical reaction.
After turning at the intersection, the man’s car headed straight toward the next light. Yuichi stepped on the gas, but the light changed and cars started to move in from both sides. There weren’t so many of them, though, and when there was break in the traffic he sped through the intersection, ignoring the red light. About a hundred meters later he caught up with the car carrying Yoshino.
Yuichi gunned his engine as if he was going to rear-end the other car, but right as he got up to it, he changed his mind. He was still enraged, but knew that hitting the other car would damage his own.
He sped up and pulled alongside the man’s car. As he drove, he glanced over at the car and saw Yoshino in the passenger seat, beaming as she talked to the man. All he needed was a word of apology from her. It was Yoshino who broke their date and he wanted her to tell him she was sorry.
The road headed toward the Tenjin shopping district. Yuichi slowed down and continued to shadow the car. Several other cars pulled into the space separating them, but by the time they reached the road heading to Mitsuse Pass, no other cars came between them, even when Yuichi opened up the gap.
Occasional streetlights lit up the red mailboxes and neighborhood notice boards along the dark street. The road started to rise, and Yuichi followed the headlights as they palely illuminated the pavement. It looked as if a clump of light were ascending the narrow mountain road.
Yuichi followed, maintaining an even distance. With each curve, the car’s red taillights looked brighter, and each time they lit up, they dyed the forest ahead a deep red. The man was driving fast, but was a poor driver. Even with curves that weren’t so sharp, the guy stepped on his brakes right away. And each time he did, Yuichi’s car got closer. Yuichi made sure to slow down, and the man’s car pulled farther ahead of him. Still, though, every time it rounded a curve on the dark road, Yuichi could spot the car’s lights through the thick trees.
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