Nocturne of Remembrance

by Shichiri Nakayama

  “Nothing in particular. He did say, though, that while I could tell any lie to the police or the prosecution, I needed to tell him the truth.”

  “There’s only one way for him to get any publicity from accepting the case as he says. That is to win it for you.” Yozo was gazing at Akiko pensively. “Right now our side stands to lose, but if the appeal trial results in a reversed decision, the case will be back in the spotlight. That would grant him his so-called publicity.”

  “A reversed decision …”

  “Not just a reduced sentence. If what he seeks is publicity, he will go all out to get a not-guilty verdict.”

  A not-guilty verdict. Akiko wondered if it was some kind of joke, but Yozo’s eyes were dead serious. She also knew that her father-in-law wasn’t the kind of person to spout baseless conjecture. “You believe in that attorney?” she asked.

  “There isn’t a lot that I gained from all those years as a schoolteacher, but thanks to working at the Board of Education, the Teachers’ Union, the PTA, and such, I did develop an eye for people. Akiko, that lawyer is outrageously capable. Putting aside his nature, his skills as a lawyer are worth believing in.”

  “I believe in Mikoshiba-sensei, too,” Rinko said with obvious pleasure.

  “How do you know?” Akiko asked her daughter.

  “No matter what, that sensei never treats me like a kid. He doesn’t lie.”

  Rinko’s words caught Akiko off guard.

  Her daughter was still very young, but oddly clever. She immediately grasped the character of anyone that she met, for instance. Perhaps her sharpness when it came to people had skipped a generation from Yozo.

  While that father-in-law and daughter said that they trusted the man, Akiko, on the contrary, was wary of him. And she knew exactly why.

  All three of them understood that he was an excellent lawyer. Yozo and Rinko, who had nothing to hide, accordingly had faith in him, while Akiko, who was concealing a certain fact, only felt trepidation. It made absolute sense.

  That was the thing with intelligence; the sharper it was, the more it threatened to become double-edged. Akiko wasn’t sure yet if Mikoshiba’s smarts would serve her as a knight’s sword or as the grim reaper’s scythe.

  “Mommy.”

  “Yes?”

  “Mikoshiba-sensei is a good person.”

  “Even if we can’t say that for sure,” her grandfather seconded, “under the circumstances we have no choice but to rely on him. Let’s bet on that man, Akiko.”

  “Yes …”

  Yozo wasn’t convinced by his daughter-in-law, who could only nod, and looked at her suspiciously again. “There isn’t anything that you are hiding from me, is there?”

  “Why would I …”

  “You seem rather cautious about Mikoshiba-sensei. Isn’t that because you’re keeping something from him and me?”

  Yozo’s penetrating look pierced right through her. Akiko felt like he was seeing through to the bottom of her heart and instinctively looked down. Her father-in-law’s robust intuition put her on pins and needles. Come to think of it, he’d been like that ever since she’d gotten married. He’d catch on to Shingo’s behavior time and again without having witnessed it directly. Maybe that was to be expected from a father, but it had more to do with his keenness regarding people. Hiding something from him took one heck of a poker face.

  What Mikoshiba didn’t know, her father-in-law must not, either. This was a secret she could share with no one.

  “Oh right, Mommy. Mikoshiba-sensei said the same thing. That you’re hiding something.”

  She knew it—she had to watch out when it came to that man. From just a little prep and their exchange at the trial, he’d realized what it was that she was bearing.

  “I probably seem that way to you, Father, because I’m not that familiar with him yet. I’m not hiding anything.”

  “I do hope so.”

  “Mikoshiba-sensei even came to our house, Mommy.”

  “To the house?”

  “Because he took me back home. He also said hi to Miyuki and looked around the house.”

  Anxiety instantly swirled in Akiko’s head. Her attorney, who was supposed to be her only ally in court, felt like a worse threat than the police. She asked her daughter, “Did he say anything in particular when he looked around?”

  “You know, he said that he could tell that Daddy was the odd one out.”

  “And then?”

  “I told him that nobody went into Daddy’s room because it was his workplace.”

  “He didn’t say anything else?”

  “Uhm. He asked Yoko in his office to get Mommy’s family regi-something something.”

  “The family register …”

  That was unexpected. Was Mikoshiba prying into her past?

  As far as she could tell, her past and the case weren’t directly related. Why on earth was he looking into it?

  She had once heard from someone that, as a general rule, only you or your family had access to the family register, but that lawyers were an exception and could obtain it, too. It wasn’t something that she could fight and prevent, but she felt inordinately anxious about Mikoshiba getting his hands on a copy.

  “Anyway,” Yozo said, “it’s still a long ways to the appeal trial’s verdict. Take care of yourself so your will doesn’t flag before the end. And I’ll try to drop by regularly, too.”

  “Thank you very much,” Akiko said, bowing her head deeply.

  Though they were family, Akiko had murdered the man’s son. She couldn’t be grateful enough to Yozo for being so considerate towards her when by all rights she should have been his sworn enemy.

  When the visitation time was almost over, Rinko pressed both hands against the panel and said, “It’ll be fine, Mommy. You have me and Grandpa and Mikoshiba-sensei on your side.”

  More than Rinko’s words, Akiko was captivated by how tiny those hands were.

  Even after she bid the two of them farewell and returned to her one-person cell, she couldn’t put out of her head the fact that Mikoshiba was checking her family register. She’d thought carefully about this case, and testified circumspectly too, in her own way. Thanks to the detectives and prosecutor in charge asking the same questions over and over again, she could even trace over the facts as if they had been arranged on a timetable. It meant that her statements in court had become her own weapon.

  Yet that man, Reiji Mikoshiba, was digging up a spot she hadn’t even thought of, like some hound that was on to a scent that humans couldn’t detect.

  But what was it that his nose had sniffed out?

  Without being able to completely kill her unease, Akiko leaned against the wall of her cell. She’d never imagined feeling such awe and fear for her own lawyer.

  A connection between the case and her past—there couldn’t possibly be any. But if Mikoshiba was looking into it, there was probably some piece there that Akiko, herself, had missed.

  She had an inexhaustible amount of time to think about it. Might as well go slowly back into her memory. She’d at least try to remember to the point where images and voices from her past coalesced.

  On the deepest level of her memory was a red-leather school backpack, so it was probably something that had happened when she entered elementary school. She could not go back any further than that. It was as if a jet-black wall blocked her thoughts. Most likely that was the limit of her memory.

  She learned later in her life that she had been born in Fukuoka City. Her place of birth was also on her certificate of residence when she obtained it to take her employment exam, but she had absolutely no recollection of that part of her life.

  “This is your new home.”

  Akiko’s mother took her very young hand and went into their new apartment. Inside, her father was in the midst of unpacking their things.

  The apartment’s layout was a so-called 3LDK, composed of two bedrooms, a living room, and a kitchen. The bedrooms were only about a hundred square
feet each, so the place wasn’t very large. Even so, it was spacious enough for little Akiko and her parents.

  “A new life in a new home,” Akiko’s mother said as if she’d just been exorcised. From her demeanor, it was more or less clear that their prior life hadn’t been ideal.

  Akiko, too, felt liberated and said, “I hope I can make friends quickly.”

  Akiko’s father stopped unpacking and put his hand on her hand. He tousled her hair with his thick fingers, and it felt good somehow.

  The new life that her mother spoke of was not in the least bit metaphorical. Akiko’s parents had jobs waiting for them in this new world. Her father would manage a restaurant chain’s local branch, and her mother would work in childcare like before.

  “You’ll have to stay home alone in the beginning, but be patient, Akiko. It will take me and Mom a while to get used to our new jobs.”

  “Okay.”

  Although Akiko was a bit anxious about it, she could only nod back since her father looked so sorry. Still, she didn’t look up for a long time because she didn’t want him to see her face.

  Both of her parents left home early for work and came back late. It was past 8 p.m. when her mother finally got home, and her father often only came home after she was in bed. Thus, once Akiko got back from elementary school, she was alone at home for four hours.

  It would be a lie to say that she hadn’t felt lonely. She had just changed schools, did not have any friends, knew none of the neighbors, and on top of it everyone spoke in the unfamiliar Kansai dialect. Inevitably, her sense of isolation only mounted. She felt like she’d been left behind in a foreign country.

  She was also continuously assailed by a sense that something was missing. She felt as though someone had always stayed by her side before. She didn’t know who it was, and the person’s name and relationship to her were both unclear, but there had definitely been someone. At the point where Akiko’s memories began, however, there wasn’t a peep of the person, which was just bewildering.

  Her sense of isolation and of lack exacerbated her anxiety. When she got home from elementary school, she would double-lock the door and pass her time as if she were hiding, without even turning on the TV set. She would become absorbed in the books that her father had bought her, in their story worlds. If she didn’t, she might start crying. She mustn’t cry; she felt that not crying and patiently bearing it until her mother got home was her duty. Her parents didn’t say so in front of Akiko, but she could tell that they hadn’t moved because they’d wanted to. She could tell by their faces that they hadn’t marched into their new workplaces in high spirits. If they were bearing it, then she thought that she ought to as well.

  When shutting herself indoors became a habit and she refused to venture out even during weekends, her mother did grow worried. Whether it was motherhood or professional experience, she noticed right away that Akiko’s mental state was deteriorating and actively began to take her outside.

  The family’s new home was in an area of Kobe called Nagata Ward. The main street, centered on a railway station and lined with stylish stores, was alive with the coming and going of shoppers who looked just as presentable. Perhaps because of the nearby harbor, there were many foreigners, too.

  “What a pretty city,” her mother remarked happily. Even to Akiko’s young ears, her mother’s tone sounded offputtingly ingratiating. Her speech was taking on a Kansai dialect accent, which she must have picked up from talking to her wards and their parents. “This place is completely different from where we used to live. I really like it. How about you?”

  Akiko didn’t know how to answer that, but she agreed that the stores and houses on the street were pretty so she nodded.

  “I’m glad. Say, from now on let’s go to the harbor area every Sunday. With Dad, too.” Her mother continued without confirming Akiko’s reaction. “It would be nice for the three of us to go to that park we just passed by. And eating at that fashionable restaurant would be nice, too. Oh, and Port Island! Mommy’s always wanted to visit that place. Osaka is also close by so we can eat a lot of cheap but yummy food. We’ll pile fun on happiness. Then we’ll be able to forget the difficult and sad things.” Her words started to get choppy along the way. “R-Really … Since such a terrible thing happened, it’s not fair unless only good things come our way from now on.”

  When Akiko heard that, she felt shaken.

  Something had occurred before they moved here. Akiko was unclear as to just what, but apparently it had been enough to drive them all the away to Kobe. It had also been enough to crush Akiko’s mother even though she seemed like an almighty guardian.

  Suddenly, black wings of anxiety fluttered down onto Akiko. Her mother, whom she had taken to be omnipotent, was actually a weak being. The scary reality that loomed over Akiko now was that her protective coating was, in fact, quite fragile.

  She couldn’t stand it and started crying. Hot lumps were suddenly gushing from her as if a dike had finally given away and crumbled. She hated that she was crying in her mother’s presence. It made her feel miserable and she cried even harder.

  “Aki.”

  Her mother didn’t try to soothe her. Nor did she get mad. She only hugged Akiko tightly to her bosom so that her groans wouldn’t leak out. With passersby looking at the two of them curiously, they crouched there on the street corner for a while.

  In April, Akiko became a fifth grader.

  “I know you’ll make many new friends, Akiko.” Her father, who was overwhelmed with work at the new restaurant, still didn’t get to hang out much with her. He failed to pick up on her true feelings, and his words were superficial.

  Akiko regretted not having made friends while in fourth grade, though it had been a short time. Soon after they entered the new class, cliques formed based on friendships they had from the previous school year. Akiko was left out.

  While all of them were in fifth grade, boys and girls weren’t equally mature. The boys were still just little kids, but around this time the girls, along with the appearance of secondary sexual characteristics, instinctively became aware of their frailty as individuals. To protect themselves, they divided others into friends and enemies and began to form into factions.

  The conditions for belonging to a faction were extremely simple. Girls who had good looks or good grades, or who came from good families, were in great demand. Meanwhile, girls who didn’t tended to get left out. The ones who were left out became candidates for bullying.

  Akiko, whose looks and grades were only average and both of whose parents worked, wasn’t asked to join any. She still wasn’t familiar with the Kansai dialect and didn’t talk much, either.

  In no time she found herself utterly alone.

  To the extent that children lack worldly wisdom, they are true to their feelings, and cruel. Left out of every clique, Akiko ended up not making any friend she could call her best. Thinking about it now, however, her treatment then was still moderate. While she couldn’t join any particular group, she was able to converse with her classmates and wasn’t persecuted. It was just that everyone had no interest in her.

  Things changed drastically, however, with the start of the second semester.

  By then both boys’ and girls’ groups had bosses. And the girls’ group that boasted the most members was headed by Marika.

  With grades always in the top three and doll-like facial features, Marika never misbehaved and had the teacher’s trust as well. The term “honor student” was made for her.

  Yet Marika always needed a sacrificial lamb. She would pick out someone who wasn’t as pretty as her, whose family was less well off, and who rubbed her the wrong way, and thoroughly torment, scorn, and abuse that girl. She almost seemed to be maintaining her mental balance that way. Indeed, after the girl she’d bullied during the first semester stopped coming to school, Marika was in a great mood for a time.

  The next girl that Marika chose as her prey was Tomomi. Quiet and inconspicuous, Tomomi must have
come across as a perfect toy for the honor student.

  Sensing as much from the attitude of Marika’s clique, Akiko felt terrible. They might not have been best friends, but Tomomi was one of Akiko’s precious few conversational partners.

  Akiko decided to at least warn Tomomi to steer clear of Marika and company. That was when Marika appeared right in front of her eyes.

  “Akiko, you’re always by yourself. Would you like to join our group?”

  She didn’t. But if she resisted, clear as day she would get on Marika’s wrong side. Akiko could only nod.

  “Then take an entrance test.”

  “An entrance test?”

  “It’s simple. All you have to do is tease Tomomi a little.”

  “No way …”

  “Oh, are you refusing?”

  I’ll target you if you refuse, Marika’s eyes announced. There was no one in the class who would protect Akiko. Before she knew it, her armpits were sweating nastily.

  On Marika’s orders, they filled a bucket halfway with dirty water and headed to the music room. Two of Marika’s lackeys flanked Akiko so she couldn’t escape. As expected, Tomomi was there. It was the one place where inconspicuous little Tomomi shone. Even to Akiko’s ears, she was really good at the piano, which she’d been playing since she was five.

  It was her skills that had made Marika, who also took piano lessons, seethe with anger, but this was an area where innate talent held sway. She must have found it unforgivable that Tomomi of all people had a gift that she, herself, lacked. And not getting her own hands dirty was just pure Marika.

  The piece that Tomomi was playing was a famous one that even Akiko knew.

  Chopin’s Nocturne No. 2.

  The memorable opening phrase repeated, donning embellishments. The melody was so pleasant that Akiko reflexively slowed down her pace.

  A dry morning breeze blew. Listening to the changing four-bar phrase felt like being immersed in amniotic fluid.

  Akiko finally stood still in her tracks.

  Remembrance—of something departed, lost—welled up in her. She wasn’t sure what, but it made her heart ache. Sometimes hesitatingly, sometimes sharply, the melody rose and fell.