Akane Kominami.
From when she’d been in junior high, she’d already stood out for her antique doll-like cuteness. Her eyes were like big balls of transparent glass. She had soft, curly hair. Her cheeks were slightly red, as if always flushed. Her hobby was baking. Girls sucked up to her in hopes that they’d receive one of her delectable chocolates on Valentine’s Day. But behind her fairytale-like charm was an ambitious twinkle in her eye that I liked very much.
Akane is the eldest daughter of the cook at Kominami, the restaurant where her “happy” family gathered around the dinner table and where her father often hosted business events. You would never think that this girl, who looked like she had popped out of a foreign fairytale, grew up surrounded by the smell of fish broth and soy sauce. But this disparity only made me want her even more.
Oh, how wonderful it would be to control a sweet beauty like her. Besides, for a story with a female as its main character, you had to have sweets. I wanted to know her secret. The cuter they were, the uglier I hoped it would be.
So I began to investigate her. There were times when I even followed her home.
Her family’s residence, behind Kominami, had an elegant charm. Yet for some reason, she always shot the restaurant an annoyed glance before sighing and entering her home.
Then, one night…
Usually, Akane went straight home from school. But on this particular night, she dawdled around a one-hundred-yen shop and café for a curiously long time, and then sat on a bench in a nearby park late into the night. While I watched her from a distance, I thought how peculiar her behavior was.
While she sat on the bench, I saw a dim light grow in her hand.
A lighter. Her gaze was fixed on the lighter that she flicked on and off in her hand.
I don’t know how many times she did it. Then, she silently stood and, as if she had made a decision, briskly headed towards the restaurant.
Akane wasn’t going home. She entered Kominami, which had already closed for the night. Before long, the formerly pitch-black windows started glowing red. The light slowly grew brighter and brighter and spread throughout the restaurant. That was when Akane flew out of Kominami, pursued by the flames. The left arm of her blazer had caught fire. She panicked and smacked her blazer sleeve until the fire was out, and then ran into the darkness until she disappeared completely. The flames from the wooden building, which had been built in the Taisho period, dyed the sky red until the early hours of the morning.
The next day, the morning newspaper reported:
✦ ✦ ✦
100-YEAR OLD KOMINAMI RESTAURANT BURNED DOWN?
Fire burst from the two-story wooden building that housed the traditional restaurant, Kominami, at about 11 p.m. last night. All 3,200 square feet of the restaurant were burnt to the ground. The fire department is investigating suspicions of arson. It has become clear that the kitchen was not the source of the fire, and no one had been in the restaurant at the time of the fire.
There were no injuries. The home attached to the restaurant, as well as the other surrounding buildings, were not damaged. Mr. Tatsuo Kominami (55), manager of the establishment, Mrs. Kominami (53), and their son (21) were home at the time of the fire and escaped without incident. Their daughter (16) was not at the Kominami residence at the time and is reported safe.
“We apologize for all of the trouble this has caused,” was Mr. Tatsuo Kominami’s comment. “Our restaurant will be closed for the time being.
“Our long-time patrons in the neighborhood are saddened over the loss of our precious building and the opportunity to eat Kominami’s food.”
✦ ✦ ✦
Everyone at school heard about the incident and gave Akane their sympathy.
“Thank you all for worrying about me,” Akane replied to them.
Her face was pale and drawn. She was the perfect picture of a pitiful victim. But at school, she wore a cardigan instead of the blazer that had been burnt in the fire. And I knew. Only I knew the truth.
I caught her at lunch time. “It’s really too bad about Kominami,” I told her sympathetically.
“Yeah,” she answered. “I was lucky I wasn’t home at the time. It had already burned to the ground when I got home. I’m shocked and sad…”
“Right. The newspaper said that you weren’t home at the time. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“I am, too,” Akane replied, her brow furrowed sadly.
“But I’m not convinced.” I grabbed Akane’s left arm and pulled up her sleeve. She squirmed with pain. A white bandage was wrapped around her arm.
“What a pity. That burn really did leave a mark,” I observed.
Akane reeled back in horror and swatted my hand away. She pulled the edge of her sleeve back down to her hand.
“…H-How?”
“I saw everything. Starting from when you were in the park last night.”
Akane’s eyes opened wide. “You…saw everything?”
“Indeed. Every last second of it.”
“Are you serious?” Akane asked, her entire body quivering. “What the heck is this?”
“Why did you do it?” I inquired.
“I…I couldn’t take it anymore.” Weeping, Akane told me what had happened. Her father had abandoned the plans to let Akane manage her own Western-style restaurant and decided to build a second Japanese-style Kominami instead. Moreover, he was going to give the new restaurant to Akane’s brother.
“It was always just my brother. I wasn’t ever allowed to cook. My father wouldn’t even let me in the kitchen. That’s why I fought to have my own restaurant. I thought I’d finally gained their approval. But then my brother stole that too. I was so frustrated. That restaurant was my life. So I wanted to take away everything they had.” Her tears weakly trickled down her cheeks, but she spat her words out vehemently.
I realized this was a girl with no regrets, convinced that she’d done the right thing. I started to like her even more.
“Yes, you’ve been through a lot,” I comforted her.
“I know it was stupid. It’s only a matter of time until they realize it was me. My father didn’t give the key to any of his workers, which means only family can enter the kitchen. And I was the only one in my family who wasn’t home at the time. And then I have this burn…”
“Akane, don’t cry,” I gently comforted her. “I know how you feel.”
“…What?”
“You wanted your dreams to come true. You would do whatever it takes to make them real. Akane, listen. I’ll back up your alibi.”
Akane looked up at me in disbelief.
“I’ll say we were in the salon until late at night,” I continued. “And that I had Mr. Muro—oh, that’s the name of my chauffeur—drive us home because it was too dark outside.”
“Itsumi…”
“Do you like any author in particular?”
“I don’t really read books.”
“I mean, you read a little, don’t you?”
“I read some stuff by Osamu Dazai in my textbook.”
“That’s fine. We’ll say that we were in the salon talking about Dazai until about ten at night,” I suggested.
Akane and I hashed out the details of her alibi. We decided that we were talking about Akane’s report on Kazuko’s character in The Setting Sun. The police questioned me and Mr. Muro about Akane’s whereabouts that night, but our testimonies cleared her name.
That was how Akane Kominami fell into the palm of my hands.
I was right on the mark. As I thought, every one of Akane’s desserts was exquisite, with delicate decorations that would tickle any girl. She hurried about the kitchen, whipping cream and adorning her cookies with stars and hearts. It was like playing with a real-life doll. It would have been a disservice not to give her a full-on country-style kitchen to match her persona. Akane really seemed to like her brand-new, sparkling silver kitchen.