“I’m sorry. I was … tired.” She couldn’t think of a better excuse than that. And it was true. She was exhausted. Not her body, but her soul.
“Are you sick?” Kudo’s voice was gentle.
Too gentle, to Yasuko’s ears, and entirely out of place. Not knowing the truth could be a crime in and of itself, she realized. A crime she had been committing until only moments before.
“I’m … all right.” Hesitantly Yasuko stood. She wobbled, and Kudo offered his arm.
“Did something happen? You look pale.”
Yasuko shook her head. She couldn’t explain what had happened. Not to him. Not to anyone.
“It’s nothing. I felt a little queasy and had to rest. But I think it’s passed now.” She tried to sound confident, but lacked the strength.
“My car is parked right over there. Do you want to rest a bit first before we go?”
She met his eyes. “Go where?”
“I’ve made reservations at a restaurant. I told them seven, but I don’t think it will matter if we’re a half hour late.”
“Oh.”
The very word restaurant sounded like something alien. Would she have to go to a restaurant and eat now? Would she have to pretend to smile with this black lump in her chest? Smile, and nod, and daintily wield her fork and knife? Not that any of this was Kudo’s fault.
“I’m sorry,” Yasuko whispered. “I don’t think I can. Not tonight. I think I need to take a rain check until I’m feeling better. Today I am … I’m just…”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Kudo said, patting her arm. “I think you’re right. It’s no wonder you’re tired, with all you’ve been through. Rest today. You probably haven’t had a chance to really rest for some time. I should have left you alone. It was thoughtless of me. I’m sorry.”
Yasuko looked at Kudo, marveling at how genuinely nice he was. He truly cared for her. It made her sad to wonder why she couldn’t be happy with so much love to be had.
She walked beside him, his hand resting lightly against her back. His car was parked a short distance down the road. When they reached it, he offered to drive her home. She knew she should refuse, but decided to let him do so anyway. The trip back to her apartment felt like it was an impossibly long distance to travel alone.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kudo asked again as they got into the car. “If something has happened, don’t feel you need to hide it from me.”
It’s no wonder he’s worried, she thought, with the way I must look right now. “No, I’m okay, really. I’m sorry.” She smiled at him, a performance that took all of her remaining strength.
She was sorry, in so many ways. And it reminded her that Kudo had a reason for coming to meet her today.
“Kudo—you said you had something important to discuss with me?”
“Oh, that’s right.” He looked down. “Well, maybe today isn’t the best time.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.” He started the car.
Yasuko let the motion of the vehicle rock her gently in her seat as she stared out the window. The sun had set. Night had come to the city. How easy it would be if everything went dark, and the world ended right here, right now. What a relief it would be.
Kudo’s car stopped in front of Yasuko’s apartment building. “Rest up. I’ll call.”
She nodded, and laid her hand on the door handle; but as she began to open the door Kudo blurted out, “Wait—”
Yasuko turned back to look at him. He wet his lips and slapped his hands down on the steering wheel. “Maybe now is a good time, after all.” Kudo slid one hand into his suit pocket and pulled out a small blue jewelry case. Yasuko knew what it meant at a glance.
“They have scenes like this all the time on those television shows, so it feels kind of cheesy now, but I suppose it’s the accepted ritual, so—” He opened the box in front of her. It held a ring. A large diamond caught the rays of the fading day and sent shimmers in every direction.
“Kudo…” Yasuko’s mouth hung open; she stared amazedly into Kudo’s face.
“Don’t feel you have to give me an answer right away,” he said. “There’re Misato’s feelings to consider, not to mention yours! I just want you to know that I’m not doing this on a whim. I know I can make you happy, both of you.” He took Yasuko’s hand and placed the box in it. “Take this, but don’t let it be a burden. This is just a present. If you should decide you would like to live with me, then the ring will mean what it is intended to mean. Please, think about it.”
Feeling the weight of the small case in her hand, Yasuko’s mind went blank. She only heard half of what he was saying. Still she understood—which only fueled her confusion.
“Sorry. I know it’s sudden.” Kudo grinned sheepishly. “You really don’t have to rush your response. I do want you to talk to Misato, too.” He reached out and closed the lid of the case in her hand. “There.”
Yasuko couldn’t think of what to say. Words seemed almost inaccessible. There were too many images racing through her head. Pictures of Kudo, and Togashi, and Ishigami—mostly Ishigami.
“I … I’ll think about it,” she managed at last.
Kudo nodded, apparently satisfied. Yasuko smiled back and got out of the car.
She watched as he drove off, then went up to her apartment. As she was opening the door, her eyes were inevitably drawn to the next door down the hall. The mail slot there was overflowing with letters, but there was no newspaper. Ishigami must have canceled his subscriptions before turning himself in. He had probably done it automatically, a common courtesy with no more significance for him then the act of waking up in the morning. She stepped inside.
Misato wasn’t home yet. Yasuko sat and breathed a long ragged sigh. Then she got to her feet again and went into the back room. She took down a cookie box from a shelf there and removed the lid. The container held a collection of old letters. She lifted the entire bundle, removing one from the very bottom. Nothing was written on the envelope. It contained a single piece of ruled report paper, covered with writing.
Ishigami had put the envelope in her apartment mailbox before making his final call on that last evening. In it she had found the note it still held, as well as three letters—all of them supposed proof of how he had been a stalker. She had surrendered the three letters to the police as evidence.
The note told her how to use the letters, and what she should tell the detectives when they came to talk to her, all in Ishigami’s customary detail. There were instructions not only for Yasuko, but for Misato as well. It covered everything, every situation they might find themselves in, ensuring that no matter what befell the Hanaokas, they would know what to do. It was because of his instructions that Yasuko and Misato had been able to handle the police. Yasuko knew that if she made a misstep and the detectives saw through the deception, all of Ishigami’s hard work would go up in smoke. Misato must have known that, too.
At the very end of his instructions he had added a final message:
“I believe Kuniaki Kudo to be a loyal and trustworthy man. Marrying him will certainly increase the probability that you and Misato will be happy. Please forget about me. Feel no guilt. If you are not happy, all I have done will be for nothing.”
She read the letter again and fresh tears began to flow.
She had never encountered such deep devotion. She hadn’t even thought it existed. Yet Ishigami had it, hidden away beneath that expressionless mask of a face—the kind of passion unfathomable to the average person.