Yasuko whirled around to see Togashi staggering to his feet. He was grimacing, one hand pressed to the back of his head.
“Son of a…” Togashi grunted, his face red with hate. His eyes were fixed on Misato. He stumbled again, then took a lunging step toward her.
Yasuko kept herself between them. “No, stop!”
“Out of my way!” Togashi grabbed her arm and roughly shoved her aside. Yasuko reeled, hitting the wall hard and falling to her knees.
Misato turned to run, but Togashi grabbed her by the shoulders and brought all his weight to bear, pushing the girl down to the floor. Then he leapt astride her, grabbing her long hair and striking the side of her face with his right hand. “I’m gonna kill you, you little bitch!” he roared.
He is going to kill her, Yasuko thought. He really is going to kill her—
Still on her knees, Yasuko looked around frantically. The electrical cord snaking out from beneath the kotatsu caught her eye. She reached over, grabbed it, and yanked it out of the wall socket. The other end was still attached to a corner of the kotatsu top. She stood, making a loop out of the cord in her hand.
She stepped behind Togashi where he sat atop her daughter, hitting her repeatedly, howling in blind anger. She slipped the loop over his head and pulled with all her strength.
Togashi gave a strangled yelp and fell over on his back. Realizing what was happening, he tried to work his fingers under the cord, but Yasuko kept pulling. This man was a curse on her and her daughter. She had to get him off her daughter. She had to be rid of him. If she let go now she might never get another chance.
But Yasuko had only a fraction of her ex-husband’s physical strength. The cord slipped in her hands as they struggled. Meanwhile, Misato had scrambled out from beneath the man when he toppled over. Now she joined in the fight, clawing at Togashi’s fingers, pulling them away from the cord around his neck. She straddled his chest, pinning him to the floor.
“Quick, mom! Quick!” Misato shouted.
There was no time for hesitation. Yasuko screwed her eyes shut and pulled as hard as she could. Her heart pounded in her chest. She could hear the blood surge inside her as she drew the garrote tighter and tighter.
She could not have said how long she stood like that, straining blindly, desperately. Finally, a faint voice calling “Mom, Mom,” began to penetrate her mental fog and brought her back to her senses.
Slowly Yasuko opened her eyes, the cord still tightly gripped in her hands.
Togashi was right in front of her face. His open eyes were blank, the color of slate, glaring out into nothingness. His face was a sullen blue, suffused with blood. The cord had left a dark line across his neck.
Togashi wasn’t moving. A line of drool hung from his lips. His nose ran. Yasuko yelped and dropped the cord from her hands. Togashi’s head hit the tatami with a thud. He still showed no sign of life. Misato gingerly slid off him and onto the floor. The skirt of her school uniform was a wrinkled mess. She leaned back against the wall. For a moment mother and daughter sat in silence, their eyes glued to the unmoving man. The buzzing of the fluorescent light in the kitchen sounded loud in Yasuko’s ears.
“What do we do?” Yasuko said, her voice barely a whimper. Her mind was blank. “I killed him.”
“Mom…”
Yasuko looked up at her daughter. Misato’s face was white, but her eyes were red, and dried tear tracks ran down her cheeks. She must’ve been crying, though Yasuko couldn’t imagine when she’d had the time.
She looked again at Togashi. She was torn, half wanting him to spring back to life and half wanting him to stay dead. Not that it mattered what she wanted. From the looks of him, he wasn’t coming back.
“He did this. It was his fault.” Misato drew up her legs, hugging her knees to her chest. She buried her face between them and began to whimper.
“What do we do—?” Yasuko began. Then the doorbell rang, and her whole body jerked with surprise.
Misato looked up, her cheeks glistening. Their eyes met, asking each other, Who could it be?
Then there was a knock on the door, and a man’s voice. “Ms. Hanaoka?”
It was a voice she’d heard before, though she couldn’t for the life of her place it. Yasuko was fixed to the spot, paralyzed. She and Misato simply stared at each other.
Knock, knock.
“Ms. Hanaoka. Ms. Hanaoka?”
Whoever was outside knew they were home. One of them would have to respond. But how could they open the door when inside was … this?
“Go to the back room. Close the door, and don’t come out,” Yasuko ordered Misato in a hushed voice. Her brain was slowly regaining its function.
Another knock at the door.
Yasuko took a deep breath. Nothing happened. Just another ordinary evening. “Yes?” she called, acting the part she knew she had to play. The part of a woman who hadn’t just strangled her ex-husband to death on the living room floor. “Who is it?”
“Oh—it’s me, Ishigami. From next door.”
Yasuko started. Who knew what kind of noise they’d been making? Of course their neighbors would have ample cause for suspicion. Ishigami was checking in on them.
“Just a moment please,” Yasuko called back, trying to sound calm, and entirely unsure of her success.
Yasuko looked around the room. Misato had retreated to her room and closed the sliding door. Yasuko then looked at Togashi’s body. She would have to do something about that.
The kotatsu table was at an angle to the wall, pulled out of its usual place. She dragged the table a few more feet until it just covered the body; the thick quilt hanging down from its sides hid Togashi from sight. It was an odd placement for a kotatsu, but there was nothing she could do about that now.
Yasuko checked to see that her clothes were in order and stepped down into the entranceway. Then she noticed Togashi’s scuffed shoes lying there. She shoved them out of sight.
Then, careful not to make any noise, she gently slid off the door chain. The door was unlocked. She patted her chest to stop her heart from fluttering.
Opening the door at last, she found Ishigami’s large round face hovering just outside. His narrow eyes stared in at Yasuko. There was no discernable expression on his face; it gave Yasuko the chills.
“Um, er, can I help you?” Yasuko said, managing a smile, even as she felt the muscles in her forehead twitch.
“I heard some noise,” Ishigami said, his face still impossible to read. “Did something happen?”
“Oh, no, nothing,” she replied, shaking her head vigorously. “S-Sorry to have bothered you.”
“Well, if you’re sure it’s nothing,” Ishigami replied, his eyes wandering toward the room behind her.
Yasuko’s skin was on fire. She said the first thing that came to mind. “It was a bug. A cockroach.”
“A cockroach?”
“Yes. A cockroach on the wall, and I—my daughter and I were trying to get it. I’m afraid we made quite a ruckus…”
“Did you kill it?”
Yasuko’s face hardened. “What?”
“The cockroach. Did you kill it?”
“Yes … yes, we did,” Yasuko said, bowing her head with each word. “Killed it good. Everything’s fine. Thanks.”
“I see. Well, if there’s ever anything I can help with, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you very much. I’m sorry. Really sorry. For all the noise.” Yasuko bowed her head deeply and shut the door. Then she locked it. Only when she’d heard Ishigami return to his own apartment and shut the door behind him did she allow herself a deep breath. Then she crouched down, putting her hands to the floor to keep from toppling over.