'Yayoi won't be coming,' Masako said. She had already changed into her uniform.
'What?'
'You heard me,' she said, pushing past her to punch her own card.
'Oh ... ' said Kuniko, hating herself for still being afraid of her, 'you mean, she won't be coming today, or won't be coming at all?'
'At all.'
'Why's that?'
'Maybe because she didn't like you blackmailing her,' Masako said as she was taking her ruined sneakers out of the shoe cupboard. They'd once been white, but had long since turned dark brown from all the grease and a particularly sticky sauce used for tempura lunches.
'You're horrible!' Kuniko bleated. 'I was just trying to ... '
'Give it a rest!' said Masako, wheeling on her with eyes blazing. Kuniko froze.
'What d'you mean?' she muttered.
'You got your ¥500,000, and you sold us out to Jumonji for the price of your loan. What more do you want?' Kuniko's mouth dropped open. So she knew.
'How did you find out?'
'He told me, of course. Are you stupid as well as lazy?'
Kuniko, cheeks puffed out resentfully, knew it wasn't the first time she'd said this to her. 'No need to be so mean, ' she complained.
'Mean? You're a lot worse than mean,' said Masako, clipping her with her elbow as she pushed by.
'Don't!' she squealed: it hurt to have that bony arm jabbing you through your clothes.
'Your big mouth's going to send us all to hell,' Masako spat out. 'But you've dug your own grave too, you fool!' And she stormed off toward the stairs that led down to the factory floor.
As she disappeared around the corner, Kuniko realised for the first time that she'd made a serious mistake. But as usual she couldn't blame herself for long. If things got too rough here at the factory, she would just have to find another job. It was a shame, just when she'd met that nice guard; but if push came to shove, she would have to put some distance between herself and the rest of them.
She looked at the wooden rack that held the time cards for the part-time workers. Two years she'd been here, and she'd finally got used to things. But if she had to go elsewhere, maybe she could find something less gruelling, somewhere pleasant that paid better, with nicer co-workers. Some place where they had nice men. There had to be a job like that somewhere. Maybe even something in the entertainment line - today she had the confidence to imagine even that. Yes, she'd start looking right away. Her itch for better things would spur her on, and there was the added incentive of getting free of the whole nasty mess.
-
After the shift, a weary Kuniko returned home to find a welcome surprise. She had parked her car in the lot and was walking past the rows of mailboxes by the door to her building when a man turned to look at her.
'Well, this is a coincidence,' he said. For a moment she didn't recognise him. 'We met last night at the parking lot,' he explained.
'I'm sorry!' she bubbled. 'I didn't realise! Isn't this amazing!' It was the guard. He was out of uniform now, dressed in a navy-blue jacket and grey work pants; and besides, she'd barely seen his face in the dark last night. He snapped shut the door of his wooden mailbox, still covered with stickers from the previous tenant's children, and turned to face her. Seen straight on, he was rather nice-looking, though there was still something strange - a bit scary, even - about him. She felt her heart race. The luck of the boxed lunch was still with her.
'Is this when you usually get home? ' he said, unaware apparently of Kuniko's designs. He glanced at his watch - a cheap digital, she noted. 'That's a tough shift.'
'It is,' she said, 'but not any harder than yours.'
'But I've just started,' he said, 'so it hasn't really sunk in, I guess.' As he reached into the pocket of his jacket for a cigarette, his sleepy eyes glanced out the window at the late November sunrise. 'It must be hard on you ladies, though, especially now that it's so dark in the morning.'
'You get used to it.' Kuniko decided not to mention that she was quitting.
'I suppose so/ he said. 'By the way, I haven't introduced myself. The name's Sato.' He took his cigarette from his mouth and bowed politely.
'Kuniko Jonouchi,' she said, bowing back. 'I'm on the fifth floor.'
'Well, it's a pleasure to meet you,' he said, his straight white teeth showing when he smiled.
'The pleasure's mine,' said Kuniko. 'Do you live alone?' she added.
'To tell you the truth,' he said hesitantly, 'I'm divorced. I'm all by myself here.' Divorced! Her eyes twinkled with delight, though he didn't seem to notice. He looked away, apparently embarrassed.
'I see. Well, your secret's safe with me. You see, I'm in the same boat myself.' Sato gave her a surprised look. And hadn't she also seen a hint of satisfaction, of desire even, in his eyes? That settled it: she'd get the boots and the suit, and a gold necklace for good measure. She glanced past him to check the number on his mailbox. Apartment 412.
3
Something had been bothering her. Masako had thought about it the whole time she was cleaning the bathroom, but she still didn't have an answer. She scrubbed the grime from the tub and rinsed it with the shower hose until all the suds disappeared down the drain; but as she was finishing, perhaps because she was preoccupied, her hand slipped and she dropped the shower nozzle. It danced across the rim of the tub, writhing like a snake, and fell to the floor, spraying her with cold water. She grabbed it as quickly as she could, but she was already soaked. A chill ran through her body.
It had been raining since early afternoon, and the temperature had been falling. Cold enough to be late December. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt and closed the bathroom window, shutting out the cold air and the sound of the rain. Looking down at her wet clothes, she stood thinking for a moment as the chill from the tiles crept up through her legs.
She watched the water that had sprayed around the room form tiny rivulets and flow down the drain. Kenji's blood, and that of the old man, too, must already have been washed down the sewer and out to sea. The old man's body, wherever Jumonji had taken it, was probably nothing more than ashes now; and these, too, had probably washed away. As she listened to the rain, quieter now behind the closed window, she remembered the roar of the water in the culvert during the typhoon, and imagined the debris that had bobbed on the torrent, caught for a moment in the drain. Something was stuck like that in her head - but what? She ran over the events of the night before.
-
She had stopped off at Yayoi's on the way to work, so she'd been a bit later than usual getting to the factory parking area. She didn't like being late for work, but this Morisaki woman who had suddenly disappeared from Yayoi's place was on her mind. Was she after the insurance money? Or was it something else? Should she talk to Jumonji about it? Or could he be involved somehow? There was no one she could trust. She felt as though she were adrift at sea in the middle of the night; a sense of desolation.
She noticed that a light was on in the new guardhouse. There was no sign of the guard, but the light itself seemed like a beacon in the dark lot. Feeling relieved a little, she backed toward her space. Kuniko's Golf was already there.
The guard soon appeared, walking back from the direction of the factory. He stopped in front of the guardhouse and turned off his flashlight, but then seemed to realise that a new car had appeared in the lot, and turned it back on. He aimed it at her licence plate for a moment. The company had a record of their licence numbers, so he was probably checking hers against his list. Still, it seemed to take a bit longer than she would have expected. Masako switched off the engine and listened to the sound of his feet on the gravel as he made his way over to her car. He was tall and well built, approaching middle age.
'Good evening. Are you heading for work?' The voice was low and soft, quite easy on the ears. So much so that it occurred to her to wonder why its owner should have chosen such a solitary profession.
'Yes,' she said. The beam of his flashlight fell on her
face and lingered there, again just a bit longer than was strictly necessary. It made her uncomfortable, especially since his face was hidden in shadow, and she held her arm up to block the light.
'Sorry about that,' he said. Masako locked her car and set off toward the factory. When she realised the guard was following a few steps behind, she spun around. 'I'm supposed to escort you,' he explained.
'Why's that?'
'It's a new policy. After all the trouble you ladies have been having out here.'
'I'll be okay by myself,' Masako announced.
'If something happened, though, I'd be in trouble.'
'I'm running late,' she said. 'I'll make it quick.' She turned and walked away, but the guard continued to follow her, lighting her way with his flashlight from a few steps back. Finally, she was unable to control her irritation and turned on him again. But when she did, she saw that she wasn't going to shake off that dark stare of his. For one moment, she had the feeling she'd seen him somewhere before. 'Have we met?' she started to say, but then realised how silly it sounded. 'No, I suppose not.'
His eyes gazed calmly out at her from under the brim of his hat, but his mouth seemed large, with fleshy lips. An odd face, she thought, looking away.
'It's dark,' he said. 'I'll see you as far as the factory.'
'Don't bother,' she said, flatly refusing his company. 'I'll be fine by myself.'
'Okay,' he said. As he turned to go, she thought she caught a glimpse of anger in his eyes. But what kind of man gets angry over something like that?
When she got back to the parking lot the next morning, he was already gone. But it had been enough to set her thinking.
-
Why should all these strange people suddenly be appearing around them? Nothing bothered her more than something she couldn't quite get a handle on. She went back to her bedroom and was just stripping off her wet clothes when the phone rang. Still in her underwear, she picked up the receiver.
'Hello?'
'It's Yoshie.'
'Skipper,' she said. 'What's up?'
'You've got to help me.'
'What happened?'
'Could you come over? I'm in a jam.' The skin on Masako's
bare arms prickled, and though the heating hadn't been turned on yet, her goose bumps weren't just from the cold. It might be something serious, and she wished Yoshie would spell it out.
'Just tell me what it is,' she said.
'I can't talk about it here,' Yoshie murmured, apparently worried her mother-in-law might hear. 'And I can't get out right now.'
'All right,' Masako told her. 'I'll be right over.' She hung up and climbed into her jeans and a black sweater she'd bought recently. She'd begun to wear clothes that pleased her again, as she had when she was working at the credit union. She knew why: she was in the process of reassembling a self she'd thrown out long ago. But as the pieces came together again, she realised she was no longer the same woman, like a broken doll that could never quite be whole again.
-
Twenty minutes later, she was parking in the street next to Yoshie's alley. Putting up her umbrella, she picked her way through the puddles toward the shabby house. Yoshie was waiting for her, an old mustard-yellow cardigan pulled over her grey sweatsuit. She was pale, and looked as though she'd aged almost overnight. Picking up her own umbrella, she came to meet Masako halfway.
'Can we talk out here?' she said, her breath coming in white puffs of steam.
'Fine with me,' said Masako, peering out from under her umbrella.
'I'm sorry to make you come all the way here.'
'What happened?'
'The money's gone!' she gasped, tears welling up in her eyes. 'I had it hidden under the floorboards in the kitchen, but it's gone.'
'All of it? A million and a half?'
'Everything 1 had left. I paid you back and spent a little, but there was still ¥1,400,000.'
'Do you know who took it?'
'I think so,' Yoshie said, looking sheepish. 'I think it was Kazue.'
'Your older girl?'
'I'm almost sure. I went out shopping a few hours ago, and when I came back Issey was gone. At first I thought he might have gone out to play, but I realised he couldn't have, not in this rain. So I started looking around, and all his clothes were gone, too. I asked Granny, and she said Kazue had come while I was out and took the boy away with her. That's when I checked the kitchen...' Yoshie looked shattered.
'Has she ever done anything like this before?'
'I'm afraid it's something of a habit with her,' she said, her face going red. 'I know I should have put it in the bank, but I couldn't risk having the welfare people find out I'd come into so much money.'
'Skipper,' Masako said, 'did anyone else know about it?'
'No. . . . Though I did mention to Miki that there'd be some money coming in.'
'Was that when you told her you could pay her tuition?'
'That's right. She was so happy about it.' Yoshie was in tears now. 'How could she?' she murmured. 'What kind of girl would steal her sister's tuition money?'
'Are you sure it wasn't Miki who took it?'
'Why would she steal her own money? No, I'm sure, especially with Issey disappearing like that. I'll bet Kazue called the house and Miki told her something about going to college.... To tell the truth, I miss Issey.' At the thought of her grandson, she began to cry even harder.
'But you're sure?' Masako pressed her. 'It couldn't have been somebody from outside?' She needed to know, though she hadn't told Yoshie her reasons yet.
'It had to be her. She's known about that hole under the floor since she was a kid.' If that was the case, then it probably was Kazue, Masako decided. And there was nothing to be done about it. She fell silent, staring at the worn, damp material of her down jacket. Her first thought had been that this might be another sign of that unseen stranger's hand.
'But what am I going to do?' Yoshie said. 'What can I do?' It was an old habit - repeating herself when she was upset. 'How should I know? There's probably nothing you can do.'
'Masako?' she said, her voice taking on a pleading tone. 'What?'
'Could you lend me something?' Masako looked at the desperate face staring out under the umbrella.
'How much?'
'A million? No, I could get by with ¥700,000.'
'I don't think so,' Masako told her, shaking her head.
'Please! I've put off moving as long as I can.' She pressed her hands together, cradling her umbrella in her arms.
'But you'd have no way to pay me back. It's bad policy to make loans like that.'
'You sound like a bank,' she said. 'But your money is just sitting there.'
Masako's voice hardened. 'That's none of your business.' Yoshie was silent for a moment.
'You're not really like that,' she murmured, her voice trembling.
'I'm learning to be,' Masako said.
'But you lent me the money for Miki's trip.'
'That was then and this is now. You screwed up, letting your own daughter rob you.'
'I know,' Yoshie said, looking defeated. Masako waited quietly in the awkward silence, flexing her chilled fingers as they clutched the umbrella.
'I won't lend you the money,' she said after a bit. 'But I'll give it to you.'
'What do you mean?' asked Yoshie, her face brightening.
'Consider it a present: one million.'
'But are you sure?'
'I'm sure. You've been a great help in all this. I'll bring it around soon.' She deserved that much, Masako thought.
'I don't know how to thank you. I won't forget this.' Yoshie made a bow, then stood there quietly for a moment. 'I was wondering,' she said.
'What?'
'Whether there'd be another job coming in.' Her face looked smaller to Masako as she squinted at her in the rain.
'Not at the moment,' she said.
'You'll be sure to call, won't you?'
'You're that desperate?' Masako's voice was
subdued, but Yoshie, who knew nothing of her worries, seemed almost eager.
'Yes. I need the money, and that's the only way I can get it. I guess I'm even more desperate than poor Kazue.' She turned away and disappeared into the dingy, ageing house. The rain spilled from the broken gutter, splashing noisily on the ground below. Masako's jeans were wet far up the leg, and she could no longer keep from shivering. She had the strange feeling she often got when she was coming down with a cold: that everything around her demanded her attention.
4
The door to the balcony was wide open. Five degrees centigrade. The cold dawn air poured in, cooling the room to roughly the same temperature as outside. Satake pulled up the zipper on his navy-blue jacket. He lay stretched out on the bed in the grey work pants he'd worn all night. He wanted the windows open to let the cold air circulate through the rooms; but the north side, facing the passageway, was shut up tight.
Apartment 412. It was a cramped little place, long and narrow, running north and south. Two rooms and an eat-in kitchen. As in his apartment in Shinjuku, he had removed all the sliding doors to open up the space. There was no furniture except for a bed, positioned to look out at the skies above the Musashi plain.
The morning stars were visible now, but Satake couldn't see them. He lay with his eyes closed, his teeth clenched against the cold. He wasn't sleepy; he simply wanted no distractions as he tried to recall every detail of Masako Katori's face and voice. He lay in the cold, stitching together the fragments of his memory and then taking them apart again, over and over. Her face came floating up to him, lit by his flashlight there in the parking lot. The watchful eyes, the thin, determined lips, the taut cheeks. Satake smiled, remembering the shadow of fear that had crossed that face, lean with self-denial.
'Don't bother,' she'd said. 'I'll be fine by myself.' The low voice, rejecting everyone and everything, still echoed in his ears; the look of her as she walked away down that dark road. As he'd followed a few paces behind, it was another woman she called to mind; and when she'd turned again, her face illuminated in the beam of the flashlight, his body had shivered with pleasure at the sight of her, the irritated look, the fine lines on her forehead. She was so much like the other woman: the face, the voice, even the wrinkles.