Villain a Novel (2010) (39 page)

After that day, every time I saw him, he asked me to give him some spending money or lend him some cash. At first I gave it to him, to sort of atone for my sins, but I was scraping by on ¥120,000 or ¥130,000 a month. I didn’t have any spare cash. All he wanted when we met was money, and more money, so I didn’t call him as often anymore. But then he began dropping in on me unannounced, telling me it wasn’t payday yet and he was broke. He’d grab whatever I had, one thousand, two thousand yen, and leave.

Of course, part of the blame for why he committed this murder lies with me. But if you ask me, I’ve been punished enough. Think
about it. How a parent feels when their child forces them to give them what little money they have. It’s a terrible feeling. You feel totally hopeless. Some days he looked like the devil to me. I almost hate him now.

“Ouch! That hurts!” Mitsuyo screamed. She was sitting on the sleeping bag, her legs spread out in front of her, and Yuichi was giving her a foot massage.

“If this spot here hurts, that means your neck’s weak, Mitsuyo.”

He couldn’t tell if it really hurt her or whether she was laughing, but he found it amusing nonetheless, and continued to press down hard with the base of his thumb.

“Ow! Wait! Wait a second!” She tried as hard as she could to wriggle away, but Yuichi’s large hands wouldn’t let her go.

“I get it. I’ll stop.… But let me ask you, does it hurt here, too?”

“Ow!”

“And here?”

“Do I look like I’m not in pain?”

“If it hurts here, that means you’re not getting enough sleep.”

“I know that! How do you expect me to sleep on top of a sheet of plywood?”

“But you were snoring last night.”

“I don’t snore. But I talk in my sleep sometimes.”

As if to persuade her to stay put, Yuichi began gently massaging her calves.

Until a short time before, they’d been enjoying the sun at the base of the lighthouse. Cold wind whipped up from the cliff, but Yuichi had lit a fire in a small metal drum he’d found and they sat beside it, eating some of the bread they’d stocked up on. The dried branches crackling in the flames made them forget the previous night’s cold weather.

“If we bought some rice cakes at the convenience store, do you think we could roast them on that drum?” Mitsuyo asked as she was getting her calves massaged.

“If we had something we could use for a grill, we could,” Yuichi replied.

“How do you usually spend New Year’s?” she asked, as Yuichi put on one of her socks for her.

“New Year’s? I go over to my uncle’s house on New Year’s Eve and drink with the guys from work. Then in the middle of the night we pay our first visit of the year to the shrine. And on the third I go for a drive, I guess.”

“By yourself?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes with Hifumi, a friend of mine. How about you?”

“We always have the big New Year’s sale on the second. I know it’s kind of weird, considering where we are and all, but it’s been ages since I’ve had such a relaxing New Year’s.”

Mitsuyo tugged on the other sock herself. A relaxing New Year’s—she knew it was a silly thing to say, but the words just slipped out.

What
was
I doing last New Year’s?
she thought.

Mitsuyo pulled on her shoes and walked outside, leaving Yuichi sprawled on the sleeping bag. This was the western edge of Kyushu, but even here the sun went down early in the winter. It had been high above her, making the surface of the sea glitter, but now it was a faint red, fading into the horizon.

Mitsuyo walked over to the base of the lighthouse, leaned over the chain handrail, and gazed down at the cliff far below. Waves crashed against the base, eroding the rocks.

Last New Year’s Eve it was past six-thirty when she’d finished work. It was the last day of their end-of-year sale and they’d closed up early, but being on her feet all day left her exhausted.

She spent every New Year’s Eve back at her parents’ house, but last year she rode her bike back to her apartment first. Tamayo had left a few days before on a group trip to Hokkaido, leaving behind a forgotten copy of her itinerary on the table. Thinking she’d spend
the hours before she went back to her parents’ home doing a thorough year-end cleaning, Mitsuyo began by washing the windows. She wet a cloth in cold water and leaned out the window, completely absorbed in the task.

The next morning, New Year’s Day, she and her family gathered around to eat the special dishes her mother had prepared. Then they went for a first visit to the local shrine, but when they got back there was nothing else left to do. Her younger brother and his wife and son went home by car, and her mother started watching the New Year’s specials on TV, her father snoring away beside her.

With time on her hands, Mitsuyo rode her bike over to a shopping center that was open all year round. The huge parking lot next to the road was full, and many of the customers inside the shopping center were dressed in their New Year’s best.

She wasn’t shopping for anything in particular, but she stopped first in the bookstore. At the front of the store was a shelf of bestsellers and she picked up one, a love story that had been made into a movie, but just thinking about work the next day made her put it down again. She left the bookstore and went to the CD store. She picked up a copy of Yuji Fukuyama’s song “Sakurazaka,” which she heard a lot on the background music at work, but after toying with the idea of buying it, she put it back.

From the window of the CD store, she could see outside. Her bike was parked there, and somebody had thrown an empty juice can into her basket. For a moment everything looked blurry, and that’s when she realized she was crying. Mitsuyo ran out of the store, looked for a restroom, and dashed inside. She had no idea why she was crying. It wasn’t because somebody had thrown an empty can in the basket of her bike.…

There were no books or CDs she wanted. A new year had just begun, but there was no place she wanted to go, no one she wanted to meet.

She went into a stall and couldn’t stand it anymore. Tears gushed out and she realized she was bawling.

Now Mitsuyo gazed at the sea, unconcerned about the freezing
wind blowing up from the cliff. The sky, clear during the day, was suddenly covered with thick clouds. If the temperature dropped any more, she thought, tonight might be the first snowfall of the year.

She sensed something behind her. Turning around, she saw Yuichi, hunched up against the cold.

“You’d better go to the convenience store before it gets dark.”

Yuichi came over and stood beside her, leaning out and looking down at the cliff. She saw his prominent Adam’s apple in the faint evening sun shining through the clouds.

“Yuichi, if I hadn’t asked you to run away with me, would you have gone to the police?”

The question came out all of a sudden, but she’d been thinking about it for several days now. Staring at the cliff, Yuichi was quiet. “I don’t know,” he said, but no matter how long she waited, he didn’t elaborate.

“There’s one thing I’d like to make sure of.”

Yuichi tensed up a bit at her words.

“You didn’t make me run away with you. I wanted you to take me with you. If anybody ever asks you, I want you to tell them that.”

Yuichi frowned, uncertain. Mitsuyo felt as if she’d just said goodbye and buried her face in his chest.

“Until I met you,” she said, “I never realized how precious each day could be. When I was working, each day was over before I knew it, and then a week just flew by, and then a whole year.… What have I been doing all this time? Why didn’t I meet you before? If I had to choose a whole year in the past, or a day with you—I’d choose a day with you.…”

As he stroked her hair, she began to cry. Yuichi’s hand, just out of his pocket, was warm as a blanket.

“I’d choose a day with you, too, Mitsuyo. That’s all I ever need.… But I can’t do anything for you. I wanted to take you to all kinds of places, but I can’t take you anywhere.”

Mitsuyo pressed her cheek against his chest.

“I wonder how many more days we can be together,” Yuichi
mumbled sadly. And right after that, a single flake of snow landed on the handrail and melted away.

Powdery snow suddenly began to fall onto the pavement and melted. Keigo Masuo was walking down the sidewalk, and when it started snowing, he halted and looked up at the sky.

Before he knew it, the world was covered with powdery snow. The overcast Hakata streets seemed to fade out of focus. A mailbox nearby looked far away, while the high-rise building across the street loomed closer.

Yoshio Ishibashi, following him, kept about ten yards back. Between them, countless powdery snowflakes fluttered down from the sky.

With each step, Yoshio had to suppress the desire to rush forward. Keigo had no idea he was being followed, and continued walking, one hand thrust in his jeans pockets, his shoulders hunched against the cold.

Two days earlier, Yoshio had surprised himself and run out of his home in Kurume.

This college student who had kicked Yoshino out of his car on top of Mitsuse Pass lived on the top floor of a luxurious building. Yoshio had ridden the elevator to the eighth floor. As he rode up, he felt the weight of the wrench concealed in his pocket. The door to Keigo’s condo had a bell but Yoshio knocked. He knocked at the thick front door over and over. “Come out, you! Come out!” he yelled.

But no matter how much he knocked, the door remained shut, and he suddenly realized his nose was pressed again it and he was sobbing.

“Come out.… Nobody’s going to make fun of my Yoshino and get away with it.…”

There was no sound from the other side of the door.

Fighting back his tears, Yoshio stepped away. He got in the elevator,
and as he did, the whole scene rushed back at him: Yoshino being kicked out of the car at Mitsuse Pass. He slammed his fist against the elevator door.

He hadn’t come here to grill the boy about why he’d abandoned Yoshino. Asking that wouldn’t bring her back. No, he’d come as a father, a man who couldn’t let anyone break his daughter’s heart. All he wanted was to protect her feelings.

Yoshio went out to his car, parked in front of the condo, and called his wife on his cell phone.

“I won’t be back tonight, but don’t worry,” he said in a rush of words. “I’ll be back as soon as I finish up what I need to do here.”

After a pause, Satoko asked, “Where are you?”

“Hakata,” Yoshio answered.

After more silence she said, “Okay. Be sure to come home as soon as you’re done.”

It was snowing harder than before. Keigo almost skipped along and, ignoring the red light, crossed at the intersection.

Yoshio tightened his grip on the wrench in his pocket. As he stepped into the crosswalk, he nearly collided with a taxi making a left turn, and the driver blasted his horn. Yoshio came close to falling, but pushed hard against the bumper of the cab and managed to keep his balance.

The taxi driver rolled down his window. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he shouted angrily. Two high school girls, wrapped in mufflers and waiting for the light to change, stared. Keigo, already on the other side of the street, glanced back for a moment at the commotion.

Yoshio ignored the driver and took off after Keigo. The driver went on blaring his horn.

When he got to the other side of the street, Keigo was far away. Yoshio sped along in the snow. The wrench banged against his ribs as he ran, the snowflakes melting on his face forming lines of water down from his eyes, like tears.

Just then, Keigo noticed the approaching footsteps and turned
around. Yoshio rushed toward him and Keigo edged backward. “What the …?” he said.

Yoshio stood right in front of Keigo, his ragged breath white in the air. Yoshio was struck by how tall the young man was, or rather, how short he himself was. But he stood his ground, glaring up at Keigo, who was glaring down at him.

“Are you Keigo Masuo?” Yoshio asked, more loudly than he needed to.

“Who are you, old man?”

Keigo took a step back. Yoshio stuck his hand in his pocket and felt the heavy wrench.

“Yoshino died because of you.”