Nan-Core (26 page)

The man behind the voice loosened the ropes around her arms and legs before leaving. She waited a while, then shuffled free, got to her feet, and started to walk. Her shoes had been neatly arranged by her side.

Her legs were trembling so badly that she had to rest every few steps. She noticed she was freezing because her clothes were still wet. She found a bundle of ten-thousand-yen notes in one of her soaked pockets, as well as a hastily scribbled map on a scrap of paper that outlined the way back to the city.

Her strength gave out partway through her journey, and she slept that night in some bushes next to the road. When she finally reached the city the next day she boarded a train, hoping to get as far away as she could. With no particular destination in mind she changed trains a number of times, finally getting off at a deserted station, the name of which she’d never heard of. It was already evening.

She called home using a pay phone at the station. The man behind the voice—she still thought it was me—had forbidden her from doing so, but she was desperate to know how you, Ryosuke, were doing since your transfer to the hospital in Tokyo. She needed to hear it before she could move on to become someone else. They hadn’t let her see you properly since the night of the incident.

Gran answered the phone. She was breathing heavily when she said Misako’s name, sounding like she had to force it out. Then she
immediately composed herself, rapidly answering Misako’s questions.

“You don’t need to worry about Ryosuke … He’ll be in the hospital for a while but it’s nothing serious … He’s doing well.” Her voice grew muffled with tears partway through but she kept to a whisper, apparently fearing your grandfather might overhear.

That was when Gran told her about Komagawa. “Your father will be furious if he ever finds out I let you know,” she warned her before telling her the place. She explained that Emiko and I were going to move there soon, and that we’d look after you, Ryosuke, there. “So there’s no need to worry, I want you to live your life. If you care about Ryosuke’s happiness, then stay away. Never break that rule, no matter what happens. But I’ll still pray that someday something will bring us back together again, even if just for a moment. I’ll always pray for that,” she said through tears.

It’s all a bit incoherent, I know. But she was still Misako’s mother, even after everything that happened. She would have felt pity for her daughter, who was being forced to live as a wretched recluse.

She can’t tell Emiko and Misako apart anymore, not with the dementia, but she does seem to remember, if only vaguely, the fact that she did something awful to one of her own daughters. She’s still suffering from that, even now. I can tell.

Sorry, that’s a bit off topic. So, after the call, Misako obeyed what the male voice had said. She had worked out on her own that Emiko would need to take her place as your mother and my wife, understanding it was necessary for the family—all five of us—to start over in a new land. She also believed it was the best for you, Ryosuke.

She understood that she shouldn’t have been allowed to live, so it didn’t matter. She wasn’t even human, just a corpse that had been
revived by some chance. She carved that concept into her mind.

“You’re a criminal, having you around creates disaster for everyone.” Misako repeated the words the man had spoken over and over to herself.

I don’t have the time or strength to go through all the details of her life after that. She spent a while drifting from place to place, then worked for a long time as a live-in maid at a hot springs resort town in the Tohoku region. She was greatly helped, she said, by the kindness of others.

Without a resident card or a family register she was unable to get a license or certifications necessary for gainful employment. There’s no way she didn’t lead a hard life. And yet she told me that the things that once scared her didn’t anymore, now that she’d escaped unscathed from the dark well. Hard work didn’t feel difficult because she was a corpse, and as for her Nan-Core, she was now perfectly fine without one. It was uncanny. The woman before me was Misako, yet not Misako. The woman I met was another Misako.

You can probably imagine what happened. It wasn’t fair to your late mother, but I had never—not for a moment—forgotten about Misako. Your mother realized this, of course, and I know she suffered as a result. But I couldn’t do anything about it. I don’t know, people can be really horrid.

I think Misako had been the same. She had been acting tough for so long that hardship no longer felt like hardship, but there must have been something deep in her heart that she couldn’t erase. She lived like an actual zombie for three, five, then ten years, but that something continued to grow until the day came that she couldn’t suppress it any longer. Why else would she have turned up out of nowhere like that?

She had told herself it would be the one and only time she’d see me or ask after you. And I could tell she knew perfectly well it was unforgivable in itself.

We’d been walking non-stop for two hours and found ourselves back in front of the train station. She said goodbye and bowed, and just like that she turned to leave. She’d taken maybe a dozen steps when I realized what was happening and called out to stop her. I called her name, loudly enough to make a few passersby turn.

“I want to see you again, even if it’s just once a year. I’ll bring photos of Ryosuke and the family and update you on how we’re doing,” I said.

She laughed and said it would be like
Tanabata
, the annual summer festival of star-crossed lovers, and suggested we take it a step further and meet at the same station at 5 p.m. every July 7th. Once a year, for just a few hours. We would share the burden of her sins.

She told me she didn’t want me to ask anything about her current life when we met, and I agreed.

It was October then, so it was less than a year until the next
Tanabata
. That made it bearable. It was hard to wait. At the same time I was euphoric, elated to have discovered that this woman I had thought dead was still alive. We were apart, but we were still under the same sky. You both know I’m not religious, but I still felt gratitude to a higher something for the way things had turned out.

Each year I brought family photos as promised. I spent my days thinking up all sorts of things to say when we met, only to forget it all when the time came. We only ever discussed mundane things. Even though we didn’t have much time, we sat next to each other and watched the city lights in silence for long spells. I kept my word, never once asking where she was living or what she was doing. She
didn’t have the luxury of being picky about what jobs she took, and it was evident that her life was hard. If I’d known any of it, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from trying to help. I wanted to avoid that. We both knew it was betrayal enough just to be meeting.

I don’t want you two to get the wrong impression; there was no physical relationship. She kept telling me to pretend I was meeting with a ghost. The only time we touched was that first time I saw her, when I had reached out for her cheek to make sure she wasn’t just an illusion.

Although that doesn’t change the fact that I was betraying your mother. Like I said, she knew I hadn’t forgotten about Misako. For some reason, that much was conveyed without my ever saying a word about it. That knowledge caused her a lot of suffering, but her real pain came from something else entirely. After everything that had happened, the family decided together that they couldn’t let Misako live, but your mother was convinced she’d been the first to make the suggestion. She couldn’t help agonizing over whether she’d done so because she was attracted to me, because somewhere in her heart she’d considered her sister an obstacle.

Your mother was important to me, and as her husband I loved her as best I could, but it wasn’t enough to release her from her anguish. I think you could understand that, Ryosuke, since you read the notebooks. I couldn’t feel for anyone else the way I felt for Misako. How can I put it … Misako was more than just a woman. It didn’t make a difference whether we slept or were even with each other or not.

Dad paused, having glanced several times at the clock on the cupboard, and just then we heard the sound of someone
opening the front door. Yohei jolted in his seat. There was a soft glow in Dad’s eyes. He continued speaking as though nothing had happened.

We last met during
Tanabata
this year, just a few months ago. I told her that your mother had died. I knew by then there wouldn’t be another
Tanabata
, not with my physical condition. Misako took the news calmly.

Do you remember when we all went out to a crab dinner, back when your mother was still around? It was the first time you brought Chie to see us, Ryosuke, and you even picked up the tab. I took Misako one of the photos from that day. She stared at it in complete silence.

The entryway was still. Our visitor was waiting very patiently, not uttering a word.

My throat was totally parched. There was a glass of beer on the table before me, but I couldn’t even pick it up to take a sip.

Ever since then I wondered if it might come to this. You know, Misako coming to pick me up, and the two of us taking a trip together. I’ve been looking forward to it, and waiting the whole time since then.

Misako’s just through there, Ryosuke. If you don’t want to see her, I’ll take her away somewhere, and you and Yohei can leave while we’re out. I said we’re going on a trip but you don’t need to
worry about my health, she’s going to take me by car. Without a license of course, since she can’t officially get one. It shouldn’t be a problem though, she tells me she’s been doing it for years.

So, Ryosuke … what do you want to do?

I got up from my chair and tottered into the corridor.

She was standing quietly with one foot on the entryway ledge, a black silhouette set against the light streaming through the frosted glass in the door behind her. Yet I immediately realized who it was. Halfway through Dad’s story, I hadn’t been able to stop myself from thinking it might be her. She’d been by my side for some time, always there to lend quiet support when things had been their most difficult.

“Hello, Ryosuke. I’m here to pick up your father,” Ms. Hosoya said, her voice the same as always as she bobbed her head in greeting.

I couldn’t come up with a reply. I just stood there, staring at her like a fool. Yohei emerged from the kitchen and wordlessly put a hand on my shoulder. We stood facing Ms. Hosoya. I thought, stupidly, that he wouldn’t know who she was. Then I remembered I’d once shown him a photo of her on my phone.

At some point, Dad had joined us. His hand was gripping my other shoulder.

“Surprised, Ryosuke?” he said.

In the next moment I remembered something that made my heart freeze solid. Mom had been there when I’d shown that photo to Yohei. She’d seen Ms. Hosoya, too.

“Dad … The photo. I-I showed it to Mom …”

“I know. From that free trial day or something at the cafe in the spring—Misako was in it. Your mother told me. I hadn’t known about it so it was a surprise for me, too, although I’d told Misako you were planning to open this unusual cafe. Your mother said she recognized Misako immediately. Misako’s appearance had changed a lot, and she was wearing glasses like she is right now, but your mother still knew. Probably because Misako was always in her thoughts.”

Mom and Yohei were both allergic to animal hair, so neither had visited Shaggy Head. That was why I’d thought to show them the photo. Although I had taken a few casual shots, Ms. Hosoya had only ended up in one of them, and in profile at that. Maybe I should have realized that was strange. Instead, I actually pointed her out, both to Yohei and to Mom.
This is Ms. Hosoya, the one I talk about all the time
.

“So that was … that was why Mom looked so afraid … before the accident.”

“Afraid? No, you’re wrong about that. Emiko—your mother—told me she was relieved, from the bottom of her heart. She looked overjoyed. She told me nothing else mattered now. Her sister, who she thought she’d essentially killed, was alive. I suppose it’s true she was a bit more distracted after that, as though some knot inside of her had loosened. And when she had the accident, wandering out like that before the light changed …”

For a while, Dad, Yohei, and I stood there in the narrow hallway just outside the kitchen, looking at Ms. Hosoya as she looked at us.

Finally, Dad took his hand from my shoulder and stepped forward. “Right, it’s time to go. Give my love to Chie and
Miyuki. You’ll find my bankbook and the deeds to the house and all that stuff inside the small bureau in the living room. I’ll leave it to the two of you to work out the details.”

We followed after him as though we were sleepwalking. He sat on the ledge at the entryway and tied the laces on his well-worn shoes. As he stood up Ms. Hosoya reached out to him. He paused briefly, touched her hand, then gripped it, letting her take his weight as he rose.

“How’s the weather looking?”

“Spots of showers, but it’s sometimes nice to drive on days like this.”

“That’s true. And I’m feeling pretty good today.”

They exchanged smiles. They looked almost painfully innocent, like a couple getting ready for an excursion. I would recall those expressions many, many times.

Still supporting Dad, Ms. Hosoya turned to face me. “My apologies for not discussing this with you beforehand, but I’m taking the cafe’s car. My resignation letter is with Chie, along with payment for the car.”

“Resignation? But you can’t … That’s so sudden …” I couldn’t shake my usual mindset of thinking like her boss.

“Everything will be just fine. Look after the place with Chie.”

My mother and Ms. Hosoya: I couldn’t reconcile the two as one person. I was still so stunned that I couldn’t take my eyes off her familiar features. It almost felt like another face might rise to the surface if I watched for long enough. But no matter how long I stared I only saw Ms. Hosoya, her expression as placid as ever.

“Could you help us with the door, please?” she asked.