As I listened to him, I felt like I was tied to the restaurant booth. I looked at his hands where they lay on the table: white hands protruding from his black uniform sleeves, thin fingers, neatly trimmed nails. Those hands were clearly human hands. But seven weeks ago, those same hands had killed my sister.
“Because you liked her canines?”
He nodded, and then he took something out of the bag next to him: a small rectangle, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand.
“I set them in resin. I thought you might like to see.”
He set the thing down on the table. It was a clear block. Inside were twenty little white things in a row. Two curved rows, one on top of the other, were suspended in the block.
“They were all over the room, and it took a while to find them all.”
Teeth, fixed in resin so that they looked like they were floating in the clear block—like the dentures of an invisible man, each tooth in exactly the right place.
I recognized those jutting canines.
I heard children laughing. The shiny decorations glittered in the shop lights.
Next to my sister’s teeth, the families peacefully eating dinner around us seemed like something out of a dream.
Weirdly, I wasn’t scared, only sad. Nobody had told me she was missing all her teeth.
He put the block back in his bag and took out a notebook. “But all that is beside the point. Here’s the second tape.”
He opened the envelope, turning it upside down. The cassette tape fell out onto the table.
“Voice 2: Kitazawa Hiroko,” said the printed label on the front.
“There’s one more tape.”
“Let me hear it.”
He stood up and turned his back on me.
“Think about that when you finish the second tape.”
After he left, I couldn’t stand up for a good long time. I left the tape sitting on the table, remembering my sister’s teeth in that clear block.
I took a sip of my coffee, which was cold. The girl at the table across the aisle was looking at me. There was ketchup on her mouth. She was staring at my hands with her pretty little eyes. The rattling noise the cup made in my shaking hand must have confused her.
On the train heading home from the restaurant, I sat curled up on the seat. I must’ve looked terrible; the middle-aged man across from me kept looking at me. I was afraid he was sneering at me. I was scared the other passengers or the conductor knew about the tape in my pocket, about my conversation with that terrifying boy, and that they were going to have words with me about it.
When I left the train, I ran down the dark residential streets. When I reached my house, the lights were on inside. These days, there was no telling if my parents would actually notice that the sun had set and respond by turning on the lights.
Just as I was about to open the door, it opened from the inside and someone stepped out. It was Akagi. He saw me standing outside the door and jumped.
“Oh, Natsumi,” he said, mustering a feeble smile.
“Nice to see you here.”
“I’m heading home now, but I was worried, so …”
Apparently, he’d stopped by after classes. I chatted with him awhile outside the house. He was a tall man; if I looked directly ahead from this distance, the top of his face—everything from the glasses up—was out of sight. I had to look up the whole time, which made my neck tired.
He knew a lot about books, and the floor on the second story of his home was creaking under the weight of them. We always had a lot to talk about. But today, I wasn’t in the mood, and all we did was express concern for each other’s well-being. I thanked him for thinking of my sister.
All the time we spoke, I was thinking about the tape. I knew I should let him hear her voice, and yet I said nothing.
“Well then, Natsumi … bye.”
Akagi waved his long hand and left. I watched him go in silence, surprised by my own transformation.
Before, when I’d spoken to Akagi, I couldn’t ever stay calm. My heart would bounce this way and that, never at rest. Every time he’d glanced at my sister, I’d feel dejected.
There was a lot I admired about him, but now my heart was silent, like a cold stone.
I rubbed the back of my neck, realizing that I hadn’t even said goodbye. Before, I would’ve waved enthusiastically, shouting “See you again soon!” despite my neck pain.
The link between us was fading. With my sister’s death, he was becoming a stranger again. I would’ve never known him if it wasn’t for my sister, so perhaps that was only natural.
I doubted it was Akagi who was reluctant to maintain that relationship, though; if that were the case, he never would’ve come here.
I went inside, entering the freezing living room. My parents were sitting under the kotatsu. I told them I’d run into Akagi at the door, but they barely answered. I could feel my mood dropping like a heavy stone.
I went upstairs and into my room, closing the door. I took the tape out of my pocket and put it in the stereo, removing the original tape and putting it on top of my desk.
I pushed Play. I could hear the whir as the tape started. I sat down on the chair, staring at the stereo.
I found myself remembering the past, when we were both in elementary school and we were taking turns recording our voices. We’d been baffled by how strange our voices sounded on tape. Then our parents had come in, and we’d all sung a song together, recording it. It was a very childish song but one we’d loved to sing. My father often played that tape when were out driving as a family—even after my sister had entered junior high, and she’d start shrieking every time he put it on. My mother always laughed really hard at that.
It was so much fun.
Natsumi …
Tell Mom and Dad, and Akagi … thank you for everything. I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused …
Or are they alI listening to this tape with you? I don’t know anything, anymore …
He … he’s going to kill me after this. I thought he was joking at first …
Natsumi … I was left alone in the dark, blindfolded and gagged, until a minute ago.
Crying and screaming is pointless … and when I figured that out, I suddenly felt … regret.
I need to apologize … That’s why I’m leaving you this message. I hate that it took something like this to make me realize.
You know how I sometimes said things to hurt you or to confuse you? You always looked so anxious when I did.
I’m sorry … none of that was your fault. I was just angry all on my own. You’ll be disgusted when you hear why.
But if I die without saying anything, you’ll never know the truth … I have to say it.
The tape went silent.
And then … not my sister’s voice, but a familiar boy’s voice …
Kitazawa Natsumi. At 11 p.m. on December 3. Come alone to the abandoned hospital where Hiroko died. You know the place, right? Come to the room where they found the body. I’ll give you the last tape there.
His voice was the last thing on the tape.