“At that point, the killer got wind of something extraordinary — Yutaro Namiki’s plan to imprison Hasunuma in his room and force the truth out of him. That must have come as a big shock. If the plan succeeded, Hasunuma would reveal the truth. The killers were prepared to do whatever was necessary to prevent that outcome. They devised their own counterplan; they thought it was a silver bullet. The idea was to tie Namiki down with something, then step in and kill Hasunuma themselves. The woman customer who was suddenly taken ill at Namiki-ya — her name was Yamada, wasn’t it?” Yukawa looked hard at Rumi. “Who was she?”
The question, which seemed to have come from nowhere, pierced Rumi like a sharp arrow. It was the final blow. The equilibrium she had only managed to maintain with such difficulty finally broke, and such support mechanisms as she had came crashing down.
“Mrs. Niikura! Mrs. Niikura!” A voice was calling her name. Her eyes snapped open. She had no idea what had happened.
She had slipped off the armchair down onto the floor. She realized that she must have momentarily lost consciousness. Yukawa was down on one knee beside her, looking anxiously into her face. “Are you all right?”
“Oh, yes...” Rumi pulled herself upright and placed a hand on her chest. Her heart was pounding.
“I’m sorry,” Yukawa said. “I got carried away. I talked too much. You need a little rest.”
“No, I’m fine. I need to go to the next room for a moment. I should take my pills.”
“Of course. Take your time.”
Rumi grabbed hold of the armchair and pulled herself to her feet. Tottering slightly, she left the living room and made for the bathroom. The pills the doctor had prescribed were in her sponge bag.
She swallowed a pill and gazed into the mirror above the sink. What she saw was the face of an utterly worn-out middle-aged woman. Her complexion was bad and her skin was sagging.
He wouldn’t like other people to see me looking like this— The thought rekindled her anxiety and she reached again for her toiletry bag.
When Rumi got back to the living room, Yukawa was standing in front of something that was hanging in a frame on the wall. It was a single page of sheet music.
“That’s our debut song,” Rumi said, “from ages ago. We released it just after I became the singer in Niikura’s band. It was our first single after we got picked up by a major label. Sadly, it didn’t sell at all.”
“An important first step in your career,” said Yukawa. He turned to Rumi and his eyes widened in surprise. “I don’t know what medicine you took, but it certainly works fast! All the color’s come back to your face. You look quite different.”
Rumi managed a rueful smile.
“All I did was fix my makeup. When you’re looking in the mirror to do your face, your mind goes completely blank. It’s good therapy. Probably works better than any stupid drug.”
“It certainly looks like that,” Yukawa agreed.
“How about some more tea? I’ll make a fresh pot.”
“I’d love some.”
“When I bring the tea” — Rumi looked straight into Yukawa’s eyes — “it’s your turn to listen to me, okay?”
Yukawa blinked with embarrassment, then smiled broadly. “If you’re happy with me as your audience.”
Rumi grinned back at him, then headed for the kitchen. Halfway across the room, she stopped and turned around.
“Are you interested in the language of flowers? Tea is a flowering plant, so it has its own meaning.”
“Really? No, I didn’t know. What does it mean?”
“Tea signifies remembrance and also pure love.”
Yukawa looked slightly nonplussed.
“I’ll just be a couple of minutes,” Rumi said. She went out to the kitchen.
46
Everything was going well. Their darling — the treasure that the gods of music had bestowed upon them — was about to set the world alight. As the moment came ever closer, Rumi was savoring every minute of every day. Contemplating her husband — his eyes shining like an enthusiastic teenager’s whenever he spoke about Saori — she felt a happiness that was almost tangible.
There was just one shadow on her life: Tomoya Takagaki.
She had seen him a few times at Namiki-ya, where he seemed to be one of the regulars. Eventually, they had exchanged a few words of chitchat. He was a polite and handsome young man.
What bothered Rumi was the way he looked at Saori. On second thought, no, perhaps that wasn’t the problem. Given Saori’s looks, men couldn’t help finding her attractive.
The problem was more on Saori’s side. She gave every indication of being in love with Tomoya Takagaki. Even if no one else had noticed, Rumi was certain of it. She couldn’t pinpoint why she was so sure; perhaps it was just women’s intuition.
Now of all times, she thought bitterly. Plenty of people in the creative arts like to maintain that there’s nothing like falling in love for boosting one’s powers of expression. The reality is rather more nuanced than that. As often as not, infatuation means a much-reduced level of commitment. Because Saori’s talent was still a work in progress, the Niikuras had always managed her life quite strictly. They wanted to keep her focused on her training and stop her attention being diverted into other channels.
Things now seemed to be moving in the direction that Rumi most dreaded. Something had changed in Saori soon after her high school graduation. Rumi had guessed that Saori was going out with Tomoya Takagaki, even though Saori hadn’t said a word to anybody.
Rumi couldn’t bring herself to tell her husband. He had no idea what was going on, and finding out would be a shock. As far as he was concerned, his darling pupil’s sole interest was singing — and absolutely nothing outside that.
For a long time, she was uncertain what to do. Eventually, she decided to put Saori on the spot. When Rumi asked her if she was in a relationship with Tomoya Takagaki, the girl admitted it immediately. “Oh, you could tell, could you?” Sticking out her tongue playfully, Saori failed to show any sign of guilt.
“This is a crucial moment in your life. I need you to show a little self-restraint,” Rumi said. “I’m not ordering you to break up with him. Make your professional debut and develop some momentum. Once that’s safely out of the way, then whatever happens afterward— Well, it’s your life and you can do as you please. For the time being at least, focus on your singing lessons. You want to make it as a pro, don’t you?”
Saori nodded miserably and said that yes, she did. Rumi was worried: She didn’t believe Saori was being sincere. For all she knew, Saori was just kicking herself for not concealing the relationship better.
Rumi’s guess proved right. One day, when an errand took her to Shibuya, she spotted Saori walking happily arm in arm with Tomoya Takagaki. The problem was that Saori had canceled her voice lesson that day, on the pretext of having to visit a friend in the hospital.
Rumi confronted Saori the very next day. Was she serious about wanting to become a pro?
The response Rumi got wasn’t what she had been expecting. “As far I’m concerned, the time I spend with Tomoya matters every bit as much as my dreams of becoming a singer,” Saori said. “Why do we all work so hard to realize our dreams? Because we think our dreams are going to make us happy. For me, though, right now, all I need to be happy is to be with Tomoya. What’s the point of me sacrificing my happiness now just to get my hands on some other form of happiness in the future?”
Rumi was blindsided. She felt dizzy. Saori’s relationship was nothing more than a silly little fling with an immature boy. How could she compare anything so trivial to their grand project of achieving global success? It was a dream that meant everything to Naoki. Rumi felt that Saori was trampling his feelings underfoot.