Pressing the tray flat against her chest, Natsumi gave a dutiful smile. “Is this what you’re researching at the university, Professor?”
The man frowned, then pushed the bridge of his glasses higher up on his nose using the tip of one finger.
“Sadly, what I’m doing is neither as elegant nor as attractive.” With a sigh, he shut the magazine and crammed it into the bag beside him. “I get asked that a lot: What practical benefits does your research have? Will it make my life more convenient? Is it as cool as smartphones?” He picked up his beer bottle and filled his glass. “Unfortunately, I can’t really provide a satisfactory answer to questions like that. Science is just one word, but it can mean a multitude of things. Most academic research will never have even the smallest impact on the lives of the majority. The research I’m doing probably falls into that camp.” He raised his glass, took a swig of beer, and used his free hand to wipe the froth off his lips. “If you’re still curious, I’m quite happy to tell you about my research theme.”
“I think I’ll take a rain check.”
“That’s probably better for both of us! Now, I have a question of my own. Can anyone go to that event?” he asked, pointing at the poster on the restaurant wall.
“The parade? Of course, they can. The only thing is, there’s such a crush of people that you won’t see very much if you’re standing toward the back.”
“Aren’t there any seats?”
“Some, but they’re only for the parade organizers and special guests. You can get one if you’ve got the right connections.”
“Connections? Well, that’s no good to me.”
“In that case, you need to get up early and secure a good spot. If you’re interested, just let me know. I can show you a good place.”
“Thanks, I’ll bear that in mind.” The man nodded several times. “Good to know. Thanks a lot.”
“Don’t mention it. Enjoy,” said Natsumi, and left him.
The customer in question was Manabu Yukawa, a physics professor.
He had first visited the restaurant in early May at the end of the Golden Week holiday. It had been around seven o’clock, when the restaurant was at its most crowded, so there were no empty tables. When Natsumi had inquired if he would be okay sharing a table, he said he was fine with that, so she had asked a couple of the regulars who were sitting at a six-person table if Yukawa could join them.
Many of the Namiki-ya regulars felt so at home there that they were quite uninhibited. The two men at the table were like that. They chatted with each other for a while, but eventually they found themselves unable to ignore the stranger sitting by himself at their table. Finding some pretext, they started peppering him with questions: Did he live nearby? What was his job?
Natsumi looked on nervously. She was worried that they might rub this first-time customer the wrong way.
The man wasn’t in the least put out. He was explaining in an easygoing way that he taught physics at Teito University and came to Kikuno several times a week to work out of the new research facility here. He went on to ask the two regulars to give him their recommendations from the menu.
With food as the topic of conversation, the regulars were completely in their element and they started to lecture him, almost spluttering with enthusiasm. If he was looking for a snack to go with a drink, then the regular omelet was good, but the omelet in broth was even better; he should definitely order the yakitori chicken skewers with both plain salt and tare sauce; not to try the restaurant’s vegetable takiawase would be the height of folly. Far from getting annoyed, the man nodded along, noting down their comments and ordering several of their recommendations. He ordered a few other dishes of his own choosing and nodded contentedly as he munched through them all.
The two regulars were clearly delighted and, as was only to be expected, introduced themselves. Natsumi had overheard that exchange, too.
Since that day, Yukawa had made repeated visits to Namiki-ya. He invariably came by himself, so he often ended up sharing a table. The regulars would always engage him in conversation and, as far as Natsumi could judge, Yukawa enjoyed the whole experience.
After several months, Yukawa had joined the ranks of Namiki-ya regulars. Customers who knew him called him simply “Professor.” Natsumi had recently started doing so herself.
At a certain point, Yukawa had begun arriving a little before six. He must have realized that the place tended to fill up after six and decided to get there early to secure his favorite spot.
That certainly held true this evening. By a little after six o’clock, the customers appeared in waves, almost as if they had coordinated their arrivals.
Then, just a little after half past six—
Natsumi heard the clatter of the front door opening. She said an automatic, “Good evening,” then looked over to the restaurant entrance.
A man was standing there. A chill ran down Natsumi’s spine the moment she saw him. There was something odd about him. He was wearing a black windbreaker with the hood up. He was probably in his fifties, but perhaps because of his sunburn, his face appeared unusually lined. His black eyes were deep-set and his cheeks hollow.
I’ve seen that face before somewhere. No sooner had Natsumi thought that than she remembered him. She felt paralyzed. She had no idea what to do.
It’s... It’s...
It was the man from the photograph. The photograph that Chief Inspector Kusanagi had shown them. It was the man her father had banned from the restaurant several years ago. It wasn’t long after that Saori had gone missing. Chief Inspector Kusanagi had arrested him on suspicion of murder. That was when Natsumi and her parents had first heard the name Kanichi Hasunuma.
What was that man doing here?
Hasunuma turned to Natsumi. His face was expressionless. After looking slowly around the restaurant, he pointed to a nearby table. “All right if I sit myself down here?”
It was a six-person table. Yukawa was sitting at one end of it.
“Be my guest,” replied the professor, who was eating sashimi with one hand while holding a magazine with the other. He didn’t seem particularly interested. He must have assumed that the newcomer was just an ordinary customer with whom he would share his table, the way he always did.
Hasunuma pulled out a chair and sat down. His hood was still up. He turned to Natsumi and brusquely ordered a beer.
“Yes, sir,” Natsumi replied. Her mind had gone blank and she was quite unable to think straight. She mechanically opened the refrigerated cabinet and extracted a bottle of beer.
She was walking toward the kitchen to pick up an appetizer for the new customer, when she stopped in her tracks. Yutaro had a savage expression on his face. Machiko was standing right behind him. They were both glaring out into the restaurant.
“What should I do, Dad?” asked Natsumi quietly.
Yutaro said nothing. He came out of the kitchen, tore off his half apron, and marched over to Hasunuma.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, looming over Hasunuma. He was obviously struggling to keep his emotions in check.