Yukiho went on, ‘And that my mother died mysteriously?’
Eriko looked up. ‘You know I don’t believe any of that,’ she said, her voice earnest.
Yukiho smiled. ‘It’s OK. You don’t have to pretend. And it’s not all a lie, anyway. I’m adopted. I came here just before starting middle school. My mother you just met isn’t my real mother.’ She spoke easily, as if what she was saying wasn’t that big a deal. ‘It’s also true that I lived in Ōe. And I was really poor. My dad died a long time ago, that’s why. And my mom died when I was in sixth grade.’
‘Oh no!’ Eriko said. ‘How?’
‘Gas poisoning,’ Yukiho said. ‘It was an accident. But some people said it might have been suicide. That’s how poor we were.’
‘Oh,’ Eriko said, really unsure of what to say now. Yukiho wasn’t acting like she had just made some weighty confession. Of course, Eriko thought, she’s probably just playing it casual so she won’t upset me.
‘My mother now is actually a relative of my father’s. I used to come here by myself to play a long time ago and when I became an orphan she took me in. I guess she was lonely, living all by herself.’
‘Wow, that must’ve been really hard.’
‘A little. But I was also really lucky. I mean, normally they put you in some kind of institution.’
‘I guess, yeah.’
Eriko wanted to say something sympathetic but she felt as if no matter what she said it could only earn Yukiho’s disdain. How could she, who had lived a completely normal, easy life, understand anything of her friend’s pain?
Eriko was impressed at the grace with which Yukiho seemed to have carried herself this far. She wondered if somehow all of those hardships were what made her shine from the inside as she did.
‘What else were they saying about me?’ Yukiho asked.
‘I don’t know. I really didn’t want to hear any more.’
‘Whatever it was, I’m sure there was some truth to it. And some parts they just made up…’
‘You really shouldn’t worry about it,’ Eriko told her. ‘The ones talking are just jealous of you, Yukiho.’
‘I’m not worried. I was just wondering who started the rumours.’
‘Who cares?’ Eriko didn’t really want to talk about this any more.
In fact, there was one more part to the story Eriko had heard. Yukiho’s real mom had been someone’s mistress, they said, and when the man she was seeing got murdered, she became a suspect. That’s why she killed herself. She was afraid of getting caught.
Of course, she wasn’t about to tell that part of the story to Yukiho.
Yukiho had taken up patchwork lately and she showed some of the things she’d made to Eriko. There was a pillow cover and a pouch whose bright colour selection revealed Yukiho’s good taste. There was one other piece, as yet unfinished, with a different colour scheme – a bag, or maybe a purse, made entirely with cooler colours, like black and navy. ‘Sometimes dark can be fun, too,’ Eriko said, and she really meant it.
The composition teacher always did her best to keep her eyes on either the textbook or the blackboard, never the students. She taught class mechanically, just trying to get through that forty-five minutes of hell, praying nothing would happen. No students were called on to read aloud to the class, no questions were asked.
The Ōe Middle School Year 3 Class 8 classroom was divided into two sections. Those students with even a slight interest in listening sat towards the front half of the class. Those without any interest sat in the back, doing whatever they felt like doing. Some of them played cards, some chatted loudly, and others just slept.
A few teachers had started off punishing such behaviour in their classes, but over the span of a month or two the punishments stopped. It just wasn’t worth the consequences. Once, an English teacher had scolded a kid for reading a manga in class, taking the comic book away and swatting him on the head with it. Several days later a masked assailant attacked the teacher on a back street, breaking two of his ribs. It was clearly payback, but the student who had been scolded in class had an alibi. On another occasion, a young maths teacher had screamed and nearly fainted with shock when she went to the chalk tray of her blackboard and found it lined with condoms, all clearly used and still containing semen. She was pregnant and the fainting spell had nearly caused her to have a miscarriage. She had gone on sick leave the next day. No one expected her back until the current third years graduated.
Yuichi Akiyoshi sat almost exactly in the middle of the classroom, allowing him to pay attention or join the miscreants in the back depending on his mood.
Toshiyuki Muta walked in halfway through class with a loud rattling of the door, not seeming to notice the stares as he casually made his way to his own seat in the very back, next to the window. Once Muta sat down, the class resumed as though nothing had happened.
Muta put both his feet up on his desk and pulled a magazine out of his bag – a porno mag.
‘Hey, Muta, no jacking off in class,’ one of his friends whispered, and an eerie smile flickered across Muta’s stony face.
Class finished and Yuichi pulled a large envelope out of his bag and walked over to where Muta was now sitting cross-legged on top of his desk. He had his back to Yuichi, making it impossible for him to see his face, but judging from the smiles of the other kids around him, he was in a good mood. This was important. They were talking about the latest craze, a videogame called Brickout. Yuichi figured they’d probably be ditching school again to hit the local arcade before the day was finished.
One of the boys sitting across from Muta noticed Yuichi approach and jerked his head towards him. Muta turned around. He’d shaved off his eyebrows, leaving two dark blotches on his forehead. Beneath, his eyes were like little sharp pinpoints of light shining out of the craters in the rugged landscape of his face.
‘Here,’ Yuichi said, holding out the envelope.
‘What’s that?’ Muta said in a low voice. His breath smelled of cigarettes.
‘I went to Seika yesterday.’
Muta snatched the envelope out of Yuichi’s hand.
The envelope contained three photos of Yukiho Karasawa. Yuichi had woken up when it was still dark that morning to make the prints. He was proud of his work. Even though they were black and white, you got a real sense of the colour of her hair and skin.
Practically licking his lips, Muta looked up at Yuichi and half of his mouth curled upwards in an unsettling smile. ‘Not bad.’
‘They’re pretty good, right? It wasn’t easy,’ Yuichi said with relief that his customer seemed satisfied.
‘Why are there only three of them?’
‘I just brought the ones I thought you’d like for now.’
‘How many more you got?’
‘Five or six good ones, I guess.’
‘Bring the rest tomorrow,’ Muta said, slipping the envelope inside his school uniform jacket. Clearly he wasn’t intending to give them back.
‘It’s three hundred yen a photo, so that’s nine hundred,’ Yuichi said, pointing at the envelope.
Wrinkles formed in the space between Muta’s shaven eyebrows and he glared sidelong at Yuichi. The angle made the scar under his right eye look even more impressive.
‘I’ll pay when you bring the rest. You’re good with that, right?’
The implication was clear. If Yuichi had any complaints he was welcome to take them up with Muta’s fist. Yuichi nodded and walked away.
‘Hang on a second,’ Muta called out from behind him. ‘You know Miyako Fujimura?’
‘Fujimura?’ Yuichi shook his head. ‘No.’
‘She’s at Seika. Third year. Different class than Karasawa.’
‘Never heard of her,’ Yuichi said, shaking his head again.
‘I want you to take some of her, too. I’ll pay the same price.’
‘But I don’t even know what she looks like.’
‘She’s a violinist so she’s always in the music room playi
ng violin after school. You can’t miss her.’
‘Can you even see inside the music room?’
‘Guess you’re going to go have to find that out for yourself,’ Muta said, turning back to his friends. Clearly, Yuichi had been dismissed. He knew better than to ask any more questions. Muta had been known to fly into mad rages over less.
Muta had first taken an interest in the classy, rich girls attending the famous Seika Girls Middle School about halfway through the first term. Chasing after them was the latest pastime for his gang although it wasn’t clear that any of them had actually ever scored.
The whole photography project had been Yuichi’s initiative, though he’d only had the idea because he heard Muta and his buddies talking about wanting pictures. Yuichi needed pocket change to support his hobby, so the arrangement worked out well.
Muta’s first request had been for photos of Yukiho Karasawa and Yuichi got the sense that he was genuinely interested in her; Muta never turned down any photo with her in it, even ones that were a little blurry.
So it came as a surprise to hear him mention another girl’s name. Maybe he had switched targets, having decided Yukiho Karasawa was out of his league. Either way, it didn’t make much difference to Yuichi. Work was work.
Yuichi had finished eating and was in the process of cramming his lunchbox into his bag when Kikuchi walked up, carrying a large envelope in his hand.
‘You want to come with me up to the roof?’ Kikuchi asked.
‘What for?’
‘That thing we talked about the other day,’ the boy said, opening the envelope so Yuichi could look inside. It was the photo he had lent him.
‘OK,’ Yuichi said, his interest piqued. ‘Sure, let’s go.’
The roof was unoccupied. Until recently it had been a popular hangout for the bad kids, but after a large quantity of cigarette butts had been discovered there, the guidance counsellor had taken to making frequent patrols on the roof, and so no one ever came there any more.
After a few minutes the door to the stairs opened and a boy emerged. He was in Yuichi’s class, but they had hardly ever spoken. His name was Ryo Kirihara and Yuichi had long since categorised him as one of those gloomy kids you just avoided. He didn’t seem to have any friends, never stood out in class, never said anything. During lunch and recess he would always go off by himself and read.
Ryo walked over to them and stopped a short distance away. There was a sharp light in his eyes Yuichi had never noticed before and for a second he felt his heart race.
‘What do you want?’ Ryo said bluntly. Yuichi realised that Kikuchi must have called him up here.
‘I wanted to show you something,’ Kikuchi said.
‘Yeah?’
‘Here,’ Yuichi said, taking out the photograph.
A wary look on his face, Ryo stepped closer and took the photo. He took one glance at the black-and-white scene and his eyes went a little wider. ‘What’s this?’
‘I just thought it might be useful for you. You know, as evidence.’
Yuichi took a sidelong glance at Kikuchi. Evidence?
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Ryo glared at Kikuchi.
‘Come on, that’s your mom in the photo, isn’t it?’
‘What?’ Yuichi blurted. Ryo shot him a withering glare then turned his sharp eyes back to Kikuchi. ‘No way. That’s not her.’
‘Take another look. It totally is. And the guy with her, he’s the one that worked at your place, right?’
Ryo took a closer look at the photo and slowly shook his head. ‘Honest, I got no idea what you’re talking about. And that’s not my mom. Stop wasting my time.’ He gave the photo back to Kikuchi and started to walk away.
‘This was taken by the station,’ Kikuchi called out. ‘Near your house! It was four years ago. I could tell by the movie poster on the telephone pole. See? It’s for Johnny Got His Gun.’
Ryo stopped. ‘Drop it,’ he said, looking back over his shoulder. ‘It’s got nothing to do with you.’
‘I was just trying to help out,’ Kikuchi said, but all Ryo did was glare at both of them before heading down the stairs.
‘I thought it was pretty good evidence,’ Kikuchi said after Ryo had left.
‘Evidence for what?’ Yuichi asked.
Kikuchi looked at his friend, surprised for a moment. ‘Oh right, you didn’t go to the same elementary school he did. You don’t know.’
‘Don’t know what?’ Yuichi asked, growing irritated.
Kikuchi looked around before replying, ‘That big park up by the station? You remember the building next to it? The one they left half built?’
‘What about it?’
‘Well, four years ago, they found Ryo’s dad in there. Murdered.’
Yuichi’s mouth hung open.
‘His money was gone, so they said it was probably a mugging. You should’ve been there. The cops were all over town for days.’
‘They catch the guy who did it?’
‘They found someone they thought might’ve done it, but they never knew for sure. He died.’
‘What, someone kill him too?’
Kikuchi shook his head. ‘Car accident. But when the cops checked his stuff, they found the same kind of lighter that Ryo’s dad had.’
‘That sounds like pretty good evidence to me.’
‘Maybe, maybe not. They couldn’t prove that it was the same one that belonged to Ryo’s old man. And that’s where it gets interesting. See, people started wondering if it wasn’t his wife who did it.’
‘Whose wife?’
‘Ryo’s mom, dumbass. They say she was going at it with the guy who worked in their shop and Ryo’s dad got in the way.’
The story was that Mr Kirihara ran a pawnshop out of his house, and the ‘other guy’ was an employee who worked there. The whole thing seemed a bit unreal to Yuichi, like something on TV. Besides, he wasn’t really sure what was meant by ‘going at it’.
‘So, what happened?’ Yuichi asked.
‘Well, the rumours kept flying, but there was never really any proof, so I guess people forgot about the whole thing. I barely remembered it myself. Until I saw this.’ Kikuchi held up the photograph. ‘Take a look. See that place behind the couple? That’s one of the hotels people go to to do it. Doesn’t it look like they just walked out of there together?’
‘What does this have to do with what happened four years ago?’
‘Everything, man! This is evidence that Mrs Kirihara was having an affair with the guy at the shop. That means she had a motive for killing her husband. That’s why I wanted to show it to Ryo.’
Yuichi shook his head. Kikuchi spent way too much time reading books.
‘OK, but Ryo isn’t going to suspect his own mom,’ Yuichi pointed out.
‘I get that, but there’s some things you just got to get to the bottom of, even if the truth hurts,’ Kikuchi said, excitedly. It sounded like another line from one of those books he was always reading. ‘Anyway, I’m gonna prove that this is Ryo’s mom somehow. Then he can’t ignore it. I bet if I brought this to the police they’d fire up the investigation again. I even know one of the detectives who was on the case. Maybe I’ll show it to him.’