There were still many unknowns, but Setsuko didn’t hold out much hope of getting anything more from her panic-stricken daughter. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t call Shigehiro. What could he do, way down in Nagoya? And how could she explain any of it to him? No, the only person she could call was Senba. When she did, he was ready with instructions. “Bring the knife,” he said. “I have a plan.”
Setsuko knew immediately he was going to try to turn himself in and take Narumi’s place. She also knew she should probably try to stop him. But when she thought of Narumi, she was ready to do anything to protect her. She would gladly take her place if she could, but ironically enough, Setsuko had an alibi. And she couldn’t think of a motive that wouldn’t involve revealing the truth of Narumi’s birth.
Her mind a whirl, she followed Senba’s instructions, leaving the house with the knife. She made Narumi come with her. If she was going to let him go through with this, the least she could do for him was let him see Narumi. He was her true father, after all.
The first thing she noticed when she saw him was how tired and worn he looked. It was clear he’d been through a lot in the many years since they’d last seen each other.
Senba had Setsuko explain the murder in as much detail as she could. Setsuko told him everything she had managed to wring out of Narumi, then, hesitantly, asked him if he was sure he wanted to do this. All he said was, “A parent will do anything to protect their child.” His words were like a firm hand pressing against her back, pushing her toward the inevitable.
She saw on the news when he was arrested two days later, chased down by a detective as he was trying to get rid of the evidence. She was surprised he hadn’t just turned himself in, but she assumed it was a calculated move to make him look even guiltier. It would certainly mean a stiffer sentence, Setsuko thought, and her heart almost burst.
Nothing in the news or the paper indicated the police had any doubt about his story. The police never showed up at Setsuko’s door. Senba’s plan had worked.
She then decided it was time to tell everything to Narumi. It was quite a shock to her, and she stayed home from school for four days. But as talk of the case faded from the news reports, things started to return to normal. It was clear that Narumi had begun to understand better what she had done and who had saved her.
There was an unspoken agreement never to mention this to her father. In fact, they never talked about it again, not even to each other. Nor did they forget. It remained an unfading scar on both their hearts, occasionally surfacing as a dull pain that cast a shadow over their lives. Setsuko could understand why Narumi suddenly became enthusiastic about her father’s plans to move the family to Hari Cove.
Indeed, their new life in Hari Cove was relatively happy. Narumi had thrown herself into environmental issues with a passion that was almost painful for her mother to see. She let Narumi do as she wished, in hopes it might lessen the burden of her guilt. Nor did she try to stop her when Narumi hung the painting Senba had given them in the lobby of the Green Rock Inn.
And so sixteen years passed. She hadn’t forgotten Senba, but it was true that the memories didn’t seem as clear now, with the veil of so many years’ worth of history pulled over them. It was Tsukahara who drew back that veil. She was setting out his dinner when he said suddenly, “He’s in the hospital, you know.”
Setsuko blinked. “Excuse me? Who is?” Tsukahara wet his lips, smiling stiffly. “Senba,” he said. “Senba is in the hospital.”
Setsuko could feel her face tense. Then, in a lower voice, Tsukahara told her he was a former detective, in charge of the murder in Ogikubo.
Setsuko’s heart nearly beat out of her rib cage. She could hear her pulse in her ears.
“There’s no need to be scared,” Tsukahara said. “I’m not here to dig up the past. I do have a request, though.”
“What?” Setsuko asked. Speaking suddenly seemed almost impossible.
Tsukahara looked her straight in the eye and said he wanted Narumi to visit Senba on his deathbed.
“He doesn’t have much longer. Maybe not even a month. I want him to be able to see the person he traded his life to save before he goes. It’s the only way I can think of to make up for the mistake I made sixteen years ago.
“Please,” Tsukahara said, bowing his head deeply.
Setsuko felt her tension ease. This man’s not here to reveal Narumi’s crime. He’s here because he sympathizes with Senba.
Still, secrets were meant to be kept. Setsuko straightened her back and told him she had no idea what he was talking about. She didn’t know who this Mr. Senba was, and she certainly didn’t think he had anything to do with them.
“I see,” Tsukahara said sadly. “That’s unfortunate.” He said nothing more.
Setting down his food, Setsuko walked out of the room to find Shigehiro standing in the hallway. Startled, she asked him what he was doing, and he said, “Nothing, just walking down the hall.”
She couldn’t read his expression, but she wondered if he hadn’t been listening at the door. She watched him go, leaning heavily on his cane in silence.
After that, Setsuko took Yukawa down to the bar and drank with him a while before leaving. She didn’t want to go straight back to the inn, however, mostly because she was worried that Tsukahara might say something again. So she was fretting out in front of the bar when Narumi and her friends showed up. When Sawamura offered her a ride back, she had to accept.
Everything after that happened just like she told the police. She found Shigehiro sitting, dumbfounded, in the lobby of the Green Rock Inn. He told her there had been an accident with a boiler: a guest had died. He wanted to tell the police, and Setsuko agreed, but Sawamura was against it. He thought a different kind of accident would be better for the town’s image. They argued about it a bit, but in the end, Shigehiro and Setsuko agreed. Setsuko in particular was eager to do anything that kept the investigators from connecting her family to Tsukahara.
But was it really an accident? she wondered.
Even if he’d overheard them talking that night in the hall, how could Shigehiro have known what they were talking about? Unless, she thought, he’d realized more than she knew about what had happened sixteen years ago.
Despite the fact that he was down in Nagoya, he could have heard about Senba’s arrest for the murder of Nobuko Miyake from the news, or through a friend. He’d known both of them well enough back in the day. And if he’d learned that the murder had happened near their home, wouldn’t he have put two and two together?
That, and she was pretty sure he knew Narumi wasn’t his daughter. He knows, she thought, and he’s accepted her as his own anyway.
Shigehiro was too smart to not connect Setsuko and Narumi to the murder sixteen years ago. And he’d never mentioned it once, which only made Setsuko even more sure he knew. Nor did she think it was entirely coincidence that he started talking about moving to Hari Cove soon after it happened. Had he been protecting the family, trying to make a physical break with their bloodstained home?
Maybe, she thought, when Tsukahara came to the inn, Shigehiro saw him as an envoy come to open the door on a buried past. Maybe he thought that leaving him alive would destroy their own lives. But Setsuko never learned the truth. Nor did she ask Shigehiro. As long as he was silent, so would she be. For the rest of her life, if she had to.
Setsuko knew better than anyone that silence was the only option.