Chapter 200

Tohko closed her mouth, awaiting my answer. Her slightly upturned eyes were tinged as if she was ever so slightly afraid. “Does it matter?” I asked and walked right up to her. “I just… felt like taking a trip.” Tohko’s eyes grew slightly moist again. “Who told you I was here? Ryuto?” “It was Kanako.” “Aunt Kanako?” She seemed surprised by my answer. “She told you about this place? You went to see her? But she wasn’t at home today, was she?” “I… called her office. I found the number printed on an invoice. And then she told me the temple’s address.” I was ashamed of muscling my way into her office of all places, and I couldn’t tell Tohko what I’d done. Tohko’s eyes grew even wider; then her eyelids fell and her expression became peaceful. “Oh… so Aunt Kanako told you where it was.” Her lips curved up and she looked happy. “Aunt Kanako is a good, kind person.” Why did Tohko cling to Kanako so devotedly? It wasn’t like Kanako tried to hide her loathing of Tohko. Tohko did it despite the fact that Kanako had told me, “I wish that girl wouldn’t come back.” Seeing Tohko sink her grip into the faintest happiness, my heart wrung tight. “… Today was the anniversary of your parents’ death, huh?” Quietly, Tohko whispered, “… Yes.” She went to be with Yui… so this is what she’d meant. The grave carved with the Amanos’ names was beautifully clean and laid with white flowers. “I read Kanako’s novel.” Her slender shoulders trembled ever so slightly. She lifted her lowered lashes and looked at me. It was an unsurprised look, a calm, melancholy look that accepted the burden of sorrow. “The stuff in Immoral Passage was about Kanako and your parents, wasn’t it?” Tohko lowered her gaze again and turned back to face the grave. “… It’s a novel. After all, Aunt Kanako wasn’t there that morning nine years ago.” In the bone-cracking cold, I perked my ears up to listen to what Tohko said. “That morning… my mom and my dad were going to a wedding, so they were all dressed up. My mom was wearing a light violet dress and the lace chiffon on it rustled… It was very pretty. But she was a little deflated and spaced out. “I guess the night before, she’d had a fight with my dad… I was in bed in the room next door. I heard their voices and it woke me up. But I was scared, so I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended to be asleep. “My dad was wearing a black suit and a white necktie. “His face was gentle like always, and he brushed my bangs aside with his fingers and smiled at me and said, ‘Good morning.’ “Ryuto told my mom, ‘You’re so pretty, Aunt Yui,’ and he was clinging to her. That cheered my mom up and she smiled, too. “It was all exactly like normal…” Tohko’s head drooped. “My dad and I ate the ‘breakfast’ my mom wrote for us, Ryuto and my mom ate their regular food, and my dad made some coffee… and he drank it with my mom.” Coffee? Something tugged at me. Maybe because I’d listened to Ryuto’s almost delirious rambling. Juliette had put poison in the coffee… “Your dad ate books, didn’t he? And he drank coffee anyway?” “Sometimes… he would drink it with my mom to keep her company. My mom preferred tea, but she had coffee in the mornings. She said it cleared her mind and woke her up.” Tohko’s tone of voice had a little awkwardness to it. Her words were somber, and she made a slight motion with her right hand partway through, as if she were squeezing a small object. Her gaze stayed off to one side, gazing painfully at the lower part of the gravestone. The rest was exactly as I’d heard from Mr. Sasaki and Maki. Tohko and Ryuto were left at the Sakurai household, and while Fumiharu and Yui were headed to the ceremony in their car, there was an accident and they were killed. “My mom hugged me and told me to be a good girl and wait at Aunt Kanako’s house. She told me not to misbehave for her…” The final promise she’d made with her mother nine years ago. Was Tohko keeping it even now? Getting better on her own when she caught a cold, always smiling brightly in front of Kanako, so she wouldn’t cause her any trouble… How had Tohko felt when she was eight years old, waiting for her parents who never came home? I pictured a little girl with braids, trembling from fear of ghosts in the house of a murder-suicide, and my chest creaked with pain. “Ryuto said that… Kanako is like Alissa from Strait Is the Gate.” Tohko lifted her face and gave a fragile smile. “It’s true. Noble-minded, solitary… her eyes fixed on a place far away, not on this earth.” And then in her clear voice she told the story of Strait Is the Gate. “Gide’s Strait Is the Gate tastes like amber-colored consommé. “Do you know how they make consommé, Konoha? You put meat, bones, vegetables, and seasonings into a giant pot; let it bubble gently for a couple hours over a low heat; then extract the bouillon that’s turned into soup stock. Then you put the ingredients and some egg whites back into the bouillon… and you boil it. Then the impurities that bind to the egg whites rise to the top, and you skim them out carefully again and again. Finally, you pour it through a filter to take out the fat, and then at last the transparent soup is done. “It’s a recipe that takes a lot of work. “At first sight, it looks simple and clear, but… it’s hard to name all the things that went into it. Just like people’s hearts, all sorts of feelings are mixed up and melt together… pure, like the warm golden light before evening… It has a melancholy taste…” The book club where Tohko and I had spent our time after school came to mind. The western sun shining in the window. The tiny room filled with gentle, golden light. Tohko’s clear voice floating through it. The sound of a mechanical pencil sliding over lined paper. Tohko peeking at it excitedly. A time of happiness. If I had to put into words the things I’d felt then, I would never be able to express them fully. Too many different feelings were mixed together and yet pure—gentle, melancholy… Under the leaden sky, in the frigid, almost frozen air, Tohko went on talking. There was no one among the crowd of gravestones but me and Tohko. It was as if we were standing all alone in another world, cut off from the reality outside. Tohko’s eyes were looking into the distance, wavering desolately. “Jerome loved Alissa. “And Alissa cared about Jerome. She also prayed that her younger sister Juliette would be happy. “And Juliette did the same… Even as she loved Jerome, she hoped that he and Alissa would get married and be happy. “Everyone was being more considerate of the others than of themselves. So then why couldn’t any of them be happy? Did they all have to go through the narrow gate?” I wondered if she was remembering her father and mother as she talked about Strait Is the Gate. The last part of what she said seemed to be speaking not about Alissa or Jerome, but Fumiharu, Yui, and Kanako. Why did every one of them need to go through the narrow gate? I doubted Tohko would come up with an answer, either. She closed her mouth and was silent. Gazing at the distant, leaden sky, as if praying for the miracle that would change the world… I was right at her side, looking at her, and I, too, was filled with frustration and melancholy. My chest ached. A stinging pain. Tohko sneezed softly. “I’m sorry, I don’t have a scarf or gloves today.” My scarf… I had given it to Kotobuki. “It’s okay.” Tohko smiled gently. A pretty, fleeting smile that seemed ready to melt into the sad scenery. An ache shot through my chest again, and I took gentle hold of Tohko’s hand. Her frozen hand trembled slightly. Even so, as if partaking of each other’s warmth, Tohko and I clasped our hands in silence. Simply quiet, our words locked in our hearts… There was nothing else we could do in that moment. Just hold hands. Even so, we couldn’t stay here forever. “… Let’s go somewhere else. You can’t catch cold.” “… You’re right.” Tohko gazed sadly at the grave—perhaps she was giving her mother and father a final word. A moment later, after closing her eyes, she lifted her head and began to walk. Our hands were still intertwined. Not tightly locked, but gently, enfolding… “What are you going to do now?” “There’s somewhere I’ve been wanting to go.” “Can I go with you?” After some hesitation, a look of impermanence in her eyes, she whispered, “… Okay.”