Toshihiko had taken the dazed Sayama home without ever complaining about everything he’d put him through. Aoyama had stared after them in disbelief. After all the stalking and harassment, he thought Toshihiko’s nerves would have been absolutely shot. Pulling gently on Sayama’s arm as he led him away, Toshihiko had smiled benevolently. It was such a beautiful smile that Aoyama had been powerless to say anything.
“He is something like a demon, after all,” Rumi mumbled.
Since Aoyama had a Christian background, comparing a person to a demon felt unnecessarily harsh to him. But on this one occasion, he was inclined to agree. Sayama had certainly looked like he’d been seduced by a devil; there was no better way to describe it.
“I’m glad you’re back to your old self now. I was worried,” said Aoyama.
Rumi gave a self-derisive snort.
“I really am useless in the all the ways that count, aren’t I?”
She rummaged around in her handbag and brought out a lollipop.
“It’s times like this I could really use a smoke. But I wouldn’t want to pollute your air, so I won’t.”
She started out just licking the lollipop a little bit, but she soon lost patience and crunched into it, throwing the stick in the trash afterward.
“If you’re wondering what I was trying to do back then…,” she said, extending a hand and raising it. “What I always do when I go like this…”
Her voice was quivering.
“It’s okay.” Aoyama took her arm and gently lowered it. “Seriously, it’s okay.”
The sound of Rumi sucking in a breath echoed throughout the room.
She’d raised her hand at Sayama that day and moved like she was sweeping something to the side. It wasn’t the first time Aoyama had seen the gesture. It was something she did at the conclusion of every case they worked on together. It must have had some kind of deep significance to her.
During their case with Emi Shimamoto, the young man they’d met who had similar powers to Rumi and Mononobe always raised three fingers to his mouth before performing a miracle. Aoyama suspected it was meant to represent the trinity—the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. That cult was based on the man’s own twisted interpretation of Christianity, after all.
Aoyama didn’t know what Rumi’s sweeping gesture was meant to represent. But she seemed to be having trouble bringing herself to talk about it. Perhaps it had something to do with her gloomy reaction to the concept of mothers that had come up during this case. Aoyama was still determined to walk the same path as Rumi. To do that, he would need to understand everything about her and become the type of person who could help her out.
“You can tell me when you’re ready.”
But there was no rush.
“I’ll wait.”
When he said that, a slight smile crept onto Rumi’s face.
Aoyama had always thought of Rumi Sasaki as someone with extensive knowledge and a daring nature, someone who could do everything perfectly. The truth, though, was that she had weaker, vulnerable sides to her. Feeling proud that he’d managed to catch a glimpse of a deeper part of her nature, he allowed himself a glance at her face. She looked surprised for a moment, then swiftly turned away. She took a deep breath before turning to face him again. Her usual arrogant smile was back now.
“We have a new client calling on us soon. I’ll be expecting you to serve up some of your usual delicious coffee.”
She spoke in a jocular way and gave Aoyama’s shoulder a light punch. He was still sore there from when he’d hit the asphalt. But that was okay. Rumi had always been the type of person to not show any consideration for that kind of thing.
Humming a tune of her own composition, Rumi set about unwrapping some new snacks. Aoyama was about to caution her not to eat too much when he felt a vibration in his breast pocket. He took out his phone and saw that the call was from his sister.
“Hey, Sis. Sorry, but I’m about to talk to a client, so if you need something—”
“Turn on the news.”
Shouko didn’t even let him finish. She sounded hoarse, distressed.
“What…?”
“Just hurry. Turn it on.”
He hadn’t turned the TV off yet. He did as his sister said and changed the channel. On the local news show, a familiar place had appeared—a white-walled apartment building with a church in front.
“Her mother was taken into custody…”
He barely registered what the newscaster was saying. His phone fell to the floor. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The words kept scrolling along the screen on a loop.
NANAKA YOKOZAWA (10) FOUND DEAD; ABUSE SUSPECTED; MOTHER ARRESTED
A wordless groan crawled out of the back of his throat. The space behind his eyes ached terribly. For a moment, he thought he’d burst a blood vessel and given himself a nosebleed. But there was no red—just a puddle of clear liquid on the floor.
“This girl who has the curse on her. Look for what you missed.”
He wanted to rip his traitorous eyes out. What did he even need eyes like these for? What good were they if they’d missed something so important? Why had he focused so much on Haruko, someone who technically didn’t even exist? Why hadn’t he paid more attention to the person who really needed help?
Did Nanaka ever get gloomy when she spoke about her parents? When they came to the church together, did she ever seem stiff or awkward? Did she wear long-sleeved tops even in the height of summer? Did she tense up when he touched her head to give her a blessing? He couldn’t remember.
Why had she never said anything to the other grown-ups at the church? Had she really been the polite, well-mannered girl they thought she was? All Aoyama could remember was Nanaka smiling that charming, innocent smile. The way she used to tickle him and laugh in that high voice of hers. Her smile. She’d smiled so much.
He’d failed to see the truth for what it was. When someone really needed him, he’d been completely blind.
✦ ✦ ✦
Kobayakawa, Akiko. How Stalkers Think (Shincho).
Saito, Tamaki. Obstacles to Matricide—Mothers Who Control Their Daughters’ Lives (NHK).
Matsuda, Misa. Rumor: The Changing Face of the World’s Oldest Media in the Internet Age (Chuokoron-Shinsha).
Makura, Shou (Story); Okano, Takeshi (Art). Hell Teacher: Jigoku Sensei Nube (Shueisha).
New Interconfessional Translation Bible (Japan Bible Society).
Peterson, Eugene H. The Message: The Bible in Contemporary Language (Navpress).