Narumi stared at Yukawa’s face. There was a serious look to his eyes, more so than usual. And yet, there was a kindness there too. She got the sense that he had something he needed to tell her.
“I’d rather not do all the prep we’d need to go scuba diving, but I could handle some snorkeling,” she said. “And that should be more than enough for you to see the real treasure of Hari Cove.”
“Perfect,” Yukawa said, picking a pair of goggles off the shelf. “I might have lied when I said I had my diver’s license, anyway.”
An hour later they were in the ocean, at the very spot that made Narumi a snorkeling fanatic years before. It was a bit of a secret, being a ways away from the main swimming area and most of the popular diving spots. Here, only a short distance off shore, it got very deep very quickly, and the scenery changed dramatically. The seafloor was a beautiful carpet of light, with a hundred gradations of color, and there were fish everywhere.
This is what I’ve been protecting, she thought. Just like it’s been protecting me. She wondered what would have become of her if she hadn’t found the ocean, and the thought frightened her.
Sixteen years ago, when she moved here, she had no guidepost to live by. She’d begun to seriously entertain doubts about whether she deserved to be alive at all. How could she possibly have a right to a happy life after killing one person and sending another to jail for her crime?
Her hands still remembered what it felt like to stick a knife into that woman’s body. She doubted she’d ever forget. And still, she didn’t know why she’d done it. It was like her body had been moving by itself. But she did remember how she’d felt just before it happened. She felt like everything would fall apart, their lives dashed on the rocks.
Nobuko Miyake rose in her mind. She could see her frown when she heard Narumi’s mother was out, then how she stared at Narumi, a faint smile coming to her lipstick-red lips. “You do look like him, don’t you,” she said.
“Like who?” Narumi asked. Thinking about it later, she wished she hadn’t.
Nobuko had scoffed, her smile turning mean. “Narumi, was it? I bet people tell you all the time that you don’t look like your father.”
Her eyes opened wider. Nobuko chuckled. “Bull’s-eye, hmm? It’s okay. I’m the only one who knows the truth.”
Narumi felt the blood rush to her head. “What do you mean, the truth? You’re crazy,” she said sharply.
“There’s nothing crazy about it, dear. But my, you do look so much like him. Especially the mouth.” Narumi could feel the woman’s eyes invading her space, an unwelcome presence lingering over her features.
“Stop. I’m going to tell my father.”
The woman made a mock show of alarm. “Please do,” she said. “In fact, I’d be happy to tell him the truth myself. I wonder what would happen then? You and your mom would probably get kicked out onto the street, at the very least. Anyway, tell your mother I’ll be back. And don’t make that face at me, young girl. You’ll regret making an enemy of me when the tables are turned—and they will be, very soon.”
Narumi was still watching those ruby-red lips when she realized Nobuko had already left. Her head was a whirlwind. She couldn’t think straight, and yet, her body knew what to do. She grabbed a knife from the kitchen, then went after her.
She ran mindlessly, and yet, there was one shred of clarity at the bottom of her murky consciousness. It was the realization that the woman was telling the truth. She wasn’t her father’s daughter. It confirmed a doubt she’d been holding inside for years.
It started one night when her father came home from a school reunion, unusually drunk. He couldn’t even walk straight, slumping onto the kitchen table when he sat down and tried to drink some water. Setsuko tried to rouse him but he didn’t look like he was listening, until he suddenly turned and slapped her mother full across the face. Narumi was shocked. She’d never seen her father lift a hand against anyone before. Setsuko froze.
“Don’t you say anything,” he growled in the most terrifying voice she’d ever heard him use. “You don’t have the right.” Then he opened his wallet and pulled out a photograph, tossing it on the floor. Narumi recognized it: a family picture of the three of them, taken at a studio. “They all laughed. Said she didn’t look like me. Of course she doesn’t look like me.” And then, drunk, her father fell asleep on the spot with her mother standing over him.
The next day, Shigehiro was back to being her gentle father, a kind husband. He apologized to both of them about drinking too much the night before and said he didn’t remember a thing. It never came up again, and Narumi never asked her mother about it, but she didn’t forget.
Nobuko Miyake brought that memory screaming back to the surface, and with it came the fear that her family would fall apart. She saw the woman walking away, her silhouette floating in the light of the streetlamp. Narumi grabbed the knife tight in both hands and charged. Her mind was a blank. She didn’t stop to think—that this was a crime, that people who did this went to prison.
She didn’t remember what happened next very clearly. When she came to, she was curled up in her bed. She didn’t sleep, she just lay there trembling until morning. When her mother questioned her, she tried to tell her what had happened but couldn’t put the pieces together. Her recollection was too vague.
But she did what she was told, and when her mother came back to collect her, she changed her clothes and left the house with no idea where they were going, what they were doing, or what would happen to her.
A few days later, it was announced on the news that the man who killed Nobuko Miyake—a man she didn’t know—had been caught. Her mother then explained who he was, and why he’d taken the blame. Narumi was aghast. She didn’t want to believe it, she couldn’t believe it. And yet, here she was, free and not in prison.
“You can’t tell anyone this. Especially not your father,” her mother said, her face severe.
Narumi didn’t object. Her chest ached when she thought of this man she’d never met serving her prison sentence. But there was blame there, too, for the married man who had a one-night stand with another woman. And for the child born from that union, there was guilt.
Her days were spent struggling with that guilt. She’d put her real father in jail and deceived the man who had raised her. When her father would come home on the weekends, she would feel such a welling of emotion she couldn’t look into his eyes.
Which was why she didn’t resist when her father quit his job and said he was going to take over the inn. She wanted to leave that place as soon as possible. Her knees felt weak every time she walked past where it happened.
Then, about a month after they had moved to Hari Cove, one of her friends took her to the observation platform on their way back from school. It was the first time she’d really looked out over the ocean, and she was awestruck by its beauty. She remembered then what her mother had said about the painting Senba had given her.
In that moment, she felt like she knew what she had to do with her life. She owed it to her real father. She would protect the ocean that he loved until the day he could see it again.
Yukawa worked his diving fins like a pro, not a bit of wasted movement. Narumi started to wonder if he’d been lying about not having a license. She showed him a couple of her favorite spots, then they went back to the shore and climbed up on the rocks.
Yukawa took off his snorkel mask and smiled. “Amazing. I understand why you’re so proud of the ocean here. Makes me wonder how so many people in Tokyo can go off to Okinawa and Hawaii when there’s this beauty right here under their noses.” He turned to Narumi. “Thank you. When I think of Hari Cove, this is what I’ll remember, and that’s saying something.”