Inside, the cramped interior featured a counter with peeling paint and a handful of stools set in front of it. On the walls hung an outdated calendar with the name of a bar on it, a poster of a bikini-clad woman holding a beer stein, and what was probably once the menu, but was now too burned to be legible.
“Is anyone here?”
Following the footprints in the dust likely left behind by Kanba, Himari moved deeper inside the shop. There, she spotted something shiny on the counter; she reached out and pinched it between her thumb and forefinger, holding it up. It was the ring she always yearned to one day wear—more specifically, it was one of the wedding rings Kenzan and Chiemi wore. No diamonds or gaudy adornments, just thin platinum. She didn’t know how her father felt about it, but her mother wore it on her person at all times like a precious keepsake.
“Your ring doesn’t have a diamond?” little Himari once asked as she sat on her mother’s knee. At the time, her mental image of a wedding ring involved a round brilliant-cut diamond the size of a tangerine.
“Not yet! After you grow up and become an idol, will you buy me one?” her mother asked, smiling.
“Of course!” Himari had replied, as if it was the most obvious choice in the world.
Hesitantly, she peered at the inside of the ring. There, the words “K to C” were engraved in the metal. From Kenzan to Chiemi.
“Mom?” she called in a quavering voice. The silence of the room grated on her ears. Then she heard a sound like the snapping of a tree branch. But when she looked in that direction, all at once, her mind went blank. The blood drained from her face. The ring slipped from her fingers and plummeted into the dusty darkness.
She thought she had figured out Kanba’s secret, but as it turned out, she didn’t know the half of it.
Himari was not looking forward to seeing Natsume Masako again. Just the other day, the girl pointed a gun at her; there was no telling what sort of gutting remarks she might make the next time the two of them came face to face. But Himari couldn’t keep hiding behind Kanba forever. She came to the conclusion that she’d never figure out what she truly wanted unless she learned the whole truth. And so, per Masako’s instructions conveyed to her over the phone, she didn’t tell her brothers where she was headed when she left.
“Did you make this?” Masako asked, eyebrows raised, as she unwrapped the parcel.
They sat in matching armchairs in the living room inside the Natsume mansion. A chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling over a black-and-white checkered floor. Sunlight streamed in from the windows, illuminating the elegant furnishings and affording Masako the beautiful solemnity of a statue.
“I did,” Himari answered hastily, seated across the table from her. “You’re welcome to have some if you’d like. No worries if not.” She fully expected her gift to be rejected and wasn’t too broken up about it.
In the service of having a serious conversation, Himari was dressed in a beige crew-neck sweater over a white round-collar shirt dress, thick black leggings, and a pair of Mary Janes. Adorning her long hair was a pin decorated with a small gold ribbon, and as a token of goodwill, she brought a gift of freshly baked cookies. One might think it strange of her to bring baked goods to someone who previously tried to attack her, but it was a thank-you gift for the pudding, which the penguins devoured with relish.
“Does Kanba eat these cookies?” Masako asked in a tone of forced calm. She wore a dark green velvet dress with a large, luxurious black ribbon on the chest. Beneath it was a pair of sheer black plaid tights and brown ankle boots. She didn’t consider Himari to be on her level whatsoever, but truth be told, when she first saw the girl’s outfit on the security cameras, she ran back and reapplied her perfume.
“Uh, probably? I mean, I left some on the table, so…”
This was Himari’s first time ever seeing a real fireplace, and it was blowing her mind. A real fireplace with real fire and real wood! The orange flames were so powerful, they warmed up the entire room. It was very impressive.
“Is there something wrong with the fireplace?”
“Oh, no, it’s just…I’ve never seen one in real life before. I’ve only ever read about them and seen them in movies,” she admitted, staring at her lap in mild embarrassment.
“How very odd you must be to bring me a gift,” Masako commented without batting a lash. She grabbed one of the cookies and put it in her mouth. “Well, they’re perfectly edible.” Then she rose to her feet, strode to the nearby cupboard, and looked up at the tea set sitting on top. “No objections to Assam tea, I presume?”
You’re an odd duck yourself, you know, Himari thought to herself. Not only had Masako actually eaten one of her cookies, but now she was making them both some tea. Hard to believe this was the same terrifying girl who fired a slingshot gun at her.
“I remembered the truth,” Himari began vaguely.
“Yes, I’m aware. And there’s still so much more you ought to know. That’s why I called you.”
Himari straightened her posture and waited for her to continue.
“Kanba and I are siblings by blood.” Masako set two dainty little patterned teacups down on the table beside the gilded plate of cookies and poured hot Assam tea into each.
“You are?” Himari asked. Now that she thought about it, they both had sharp, analytical eyes and upturned noses. “Then why…?”
She was aware that Kanba wasn’t born into the Takakura family, but she never thought too hard about where he came from. Why would he choose to live at the Takakura house when he had a real family right here in this mansion?
“To make me the sole heir to the Natsume legacy. He chose to stay there with our father for my sake and Mario’s. Because he loved us.”
And it was that love that she came to reclaim when she visited the Takakura house. Kanba’s love once protected the Natsume family, but now it was being directed at Himari and Shoma instead.
Masako looked at Himari with her hard, almond-shaped eyes, but the other girl simply averted her gaze quietly. With a small sigh, Masako set the teapot on the table. “At least now you surely understand how entitled you’ve been acting.”
Himari couldn’t say a word. Her beloved older brother spent all this time looking after some other family’s children while his actual sister suffered alone—indeed, one could tell they were related. But were Kanba’s choices really her fault? Was she meant to apologize to Masako? She wasn’t sure. She and Shoma simply accepted, respected, and loved Kanba as one of their own. Was that such a crime?
“Because of you, Kanba has been putting himself in danger.” Masako curled her slender fingers around her teacup and lifted it to her lips.
“What sort of danger?”
“He’s been cooperating with the remnants of KIGA, the organization behind the bombing sixteen years ago.”
This confirmed what she went into the ramen shop to find out. The journalist was telling the truth: Kanba was indeed accepting money from that organization.
“For my medical expenses…?” Himari whispered sadly.
This infuriated Masako. How could this girl possibly sit still at a time like this? She planted herself right up against the back of the armchair, and her feet couldn’t even reach the floor. Everything about her was so utterly childish—her round face, her tacky hairpin, her lanky limbs, her flat chest. Even her manner of speech was childish!