“Wow, that’s so cool! That wall was one of the first things I noticed about your house. I didn’t realize your brothers did it themselves.”
“Yup. And they made me a matching Mika-chan bed, too.”
“Oh my god, I was wondering why it seemed so familiar! It’s a Mika-chan Princess Bed!”
Their mother had left an ancient sewing machine behind in one of the rooms. There, they got to work, using tons of old books and fabric to transform Himari’s rickety little metal bed frame. Then they added four posts and a canopy, and just like that, it was the Mika-chan Princess Bed she always dreamed of.
Then Himari herself learned to knit and sew. With some assistance, she made little additions, like cushions and shelves. Over time, she collected candles and lamps in the shape of angels and mushrooms, and now it was every girl’s fantasy bedroom.
“It really meant a lot to me.”
“Aww, they’re such good brothers!”
“But then they stepped on my favorite teddy bear and made its stuffing pop out.”
Horrified, they hastily comforted a crying Himari, then set about giving the little bear’s tummy some much-needed “first aid,” inexperienced though they were.
“See this stitching here? It looks like the poor thing had surgery.” Himari grabbed the pink pirate teddy bear from her bedroom to show Ringo.
“You’re right! Aww, it’s so cute. Bad stitch job, though,” she laughed.
“Yeah, but that’s what makes it so special. I consider it his appendectomy scar.”
“I guess those two dorks were bound to screw something up sooner or later.”
“It’s okay. Mistakes like these are proof that we’re a family.”
“Awww…” Touched, Ringo ran a finger over the bear’s stomach. She didn’t notice Himari’s expression steadily growing darker once more.
In the end, Himari sent Ringo home with half of the cookies. And after she was gone, Himari stood there in the entryway, staring into space.
Just prior to Ringo’s visit, the magazine journalist had already arrived at the Takakura house while Himari was home alone.
“You realize your medical expenses are incredibly costly, right?”
He was a short, stocky man who stank of cigarettes, and this was the first thing he asked her, without even so much as a perfunctory greeting.
“Why would you ask me that?” Himari asked back, without meeting his gaze.
“Because no high schooler could possibly scrape together that kind of cash.”
“What are you trying to say?”
Part of her was desperate for Ringo or Shoma or Kanba to come home and rescue her, but another part of her wanted to know the truth. Thus, she didn’t send him away.
Kanba never said a word about Sanetoshi’s expensive medical treatments beyond a dismissive “Don’t worry about it,” and somehow, his part-time job seemed to be paying enough to cover them. Even Himari could tell that something was fishy about it.
The journalist pulled a stack of photos out of his jacket pocket and showed them to her. The photos depicted Kanba surrounded by a group of men dressed in black, one of them caught in the process of handing him an envelope.
“We’ve figured out where your brother’s been getting the money. It’s a huge scoop.” Before Himari could ask who the men in black were, he continued, “These men are part of an organization called KIGA—the remnants of the group behind the bombing. In other words, their dirty money is the only thing keeping you alive.”
The group behind the bombing. Himari’s vision blurred and dimmed. She sensed that Kanba was making a massive sacrifice on her behalf, but the truth was worse than she ever imagined.
“How do you feel about that? I’d love to know.”
“Please leave,” she choked. Then she slid the door shut and locked it. “Please leave!”
After that, the journalist didn’t knock or call out to her again. Then Himari spotted No. 3 standing around idly in the hall. She scooped it up into her arms, then hurried to the kitchen.
“The cookies will be ready soon, okay?”
Her grip on No. 3 grew tighter and tighter. Meanwhile, it peered up at her curiously as she sternly opened the oven door.
Even after Himari pulled on her soft gauzy nightgown and climbed into bed, sleep eluded her. Shoma gave her a hot water bottle to keep the bed warm; as she rolled it around with her feet, she gazed at Penguin No. 3 already slumbering beside her, its little beak twitching sporadically.
Hours later, after tossing and turning until the bottle’s warmth was all but lost, she heard the front door slide open and bolted upright. Someone just left the house. Hastily, she sprang out of bed and donned her robe, her coat, a pair of tights, and a scarf. Then she slid open her bedroom door, and sure enough, one of the futons was empty. Kanba was missing.
Careful not to wake Shoma as he snored soundly, Himari tiptoed over the tatami to the entryway, quietly slipped into her sneakers, and walked outside. There, she roughly ran a hand through her long hair. Then she set off down the street.
Shivering in the cold of night, she glanced around. In the distance, she could see Kanba walking away from her, his black coat sporadically illuminated by each streetlamp as he passed under it. Summoning her resolve, Himari decided to tail him.
If what the journalist told her earlier that day was true, then it was quite possible Kanba was meeting up with someone from KIGA…maybe to get more money for the family. She wasn’t really sure what her plan was—should she stop him, or was she only interested in confirming the truth with her own two eyes? And if it did turn out to be true, should she tell Shoma? What would he think?
Kanba seemingly paid no heed to his surroundings. When he arrived at the outskirts of town, he walked into a small ramen shop with no lights on inside. Was this their meetup spot? Even after he entered the building, the windows remained dark.
Exhaling into her hands, Himari watched from a distance and waited for someone to come outside. Here in this sleepy residential district, the only lights were those of the streetlamps. Shivering, she crouched down, huddling into herself. She didn’t own a cell phone, so she couldn’t even check the time. Then Kanba stepped out of the ramen shop, still alone. Biting back the urge to call for him, Himari watched as he headed back the way he came with a hard look on his face.
If she revealed herself right that moment and asked him to come clean, would he?
She watched him stagger down the street and, after a good ten or twenty seconds of serious contemplation, decided not to reveal herself. He wouldn’t be honest with her; he would just get angry that she followed him out here this late at night. Then he’d notice that she was shivering and lend her his coat, and with a smile, he’d tell her there was nothing she needed to worry about—and in so doing, he would willfully distance her from the truth, even though she was practically staring it in the face at this point.
She waited until he vanished from sight, then dashed over to the ramen shop. Holding her breath, she forced open the poorly fitted door. For a moment she was scared that the person inside would hear her, but it quickly became apparent that she needn’t have worried.
Not only was there no electricity, but it was increasingly apparent that the place hadn’t operated as a restaurant in many years. Everything was covered in a layer of dust, and the corners of the ceiling were dotted with thick spiderwebs. Choking on the stench of mold, she covered her nose and mouth with one hand as she entered.
“Hello…?”