“See what?”
“The face of the person who fell.”
“Of course not! We were too far away for one thing, and for another he landed face down with his head half hidden in the tree roots.”
Hashiba was right. They had only seen the back of the falling man, and even when exiting the building, they had only glimpsed his form through a thick crowd of people at a distance of several meters. How could they possibly have seen who he was? And yet, Saeko knew. The image of Seiji Fujimura’s face was branded into her mind even if it hadn’t passed through her retinas. No matter how she tried to dismiss it, his visage refused to disappear.
In a single drag, Saeko downed half of her glass of rum.
“It was Seiji Fujimura. I’m absolutely sure of it,” she informed Hashiba.
Hashiba was reaching for his drink but froze with a choked exclamation of surprise. “You’ve got to be kidding,” he managed.
There were two solid reasons for his denial. For one thing, it would have been too bizarre a coincidence for someone Saeko and Hashiba both knew to happen to fall to his death right in front of them. For another, there was no way they could have seen the man’s face from where they had been. How could Saeko possibly know who it was?
But as he watched Saeko tremble with fright, Hashiba didn’t know what to think. Indeed, the man’s tracksuit had seemed familiar. And even from the back, the figure had borne something of a resemblance to Seiji Fujimura.
An ambulance’s siren pierced the silence, far away at first, but growing steadily closer.
“I’ll go have a look,” Hashiba said.
The bar where they were now seated was only a couple of hundred meters from the scene of the fall. If he ran, Hashiba would get there sooner than the ambulance. Perhaps he would be able to confirm the man’s identity.
Saeko wanted to know the truth, too. Moments ago, she had been too distressed to think of anything but getting away from the scene. But now that she’d had a moment to calm down, she wanted to get to the bottom of what she had seen.
Please, let it be just my imagination …
Saeko hoped she had been wrong somehow. She didn’t welcome the idea that the bizarre vision she’d had might actually reflect reality. Especially if that reality involved Seiji Fujimura.
She still remembered vividly how she’d felt in the hospital in Ina when she’d sensed someone crawling up to her bed in the middle of the night, and her terror when she’d realized that it was Seiji Fujimura. When she recalled how his fingers had probed her breast, she was overcome with the image of hundreds of earthworms slithering all over her body. When Seiji had handed her the key to the Fujimuras’ home, it had been warm from his body heat and damp from the sweat of his palm. She still had it in her handbag, wrapped in a tissue.
Saeko shuddered, trying to dispel the repugnant image.
I don’t want to be alone tonight, she realized.
She had no desire to spend another night in that state of terrified isolation she’d experienced in the hospital room. She wanted company — even her ex-husband would do. In her current state, if she tried to sleep alone, she knew she would be unable to distinguish reality from nightmare. She would be Seiji Fujimura’s helpless prey.
Please …
Just as Saeko pictured the face of the man she most wanted to remain by her side that night, it appeared in the doorway of the bar. Less than four minutes had elapsed since he’d shot out the door.
Hashiba wore an expression of deep consternation as he approached the counter and weakly set one hand on his stool.
“You were right,” he told her.
Instinctively, Saeko closed both eyes. Despite her fervent prayers, her bizarre vision had now been confirmed by another witness.
In confused tones, Hashiba recounted what he had just seen. But Saeko wasn’t listening. She didn’t have to. She remembered — the broken legs splayed at an unnatural angle, the two palms that seemed to beckon as they convulsed.
Her eyes still squeezed shut, Saeko’s hands searched the counter for her drink. Finding it, she downed the rest of her rum in a single drought. Only the ice cubes remained in her glass, clinking frigidly.
Hashiba continued. “At the moment, there’s no indication of foul play. He was probably tired of running from his debtors and threw himself off the roof of a building in despair. They didn’t know yet if he’s going to make it, but there’s no question that he’s in serious condition.”
Saeko released her glass and let her hand wander over to Hashiba’s stool to squeeze his hand. Cold and damp from holding her glass, her hand was quickly enveloped in Hashiba’s warmth. He responded by stroking the grooves between her fingers delicately with his fingertips.
I don’t want to let go of this hand tonight.
Saeko interlaced her fingers tightly around Hashiba’s, gripping them with surprising strength for a woman.
That evening, when Saeko took his hand tightly in hers, Hashiba had a hunch that he might wind up spending the night with her. But when she pulled him along, he didn’t realize they were headed for her apartment until she said, “Would you come home with me tonight?” Her speech was oddly rushed, as if to convince him that it was the drink talking.
After they left the bar and got into a taxi, Saeko directed the driver into a quiet residential neighborhood in Minato Ward. During the ride, and even as they emerged onto the sidewalk, Saeko made no move to release Hashiba’s hand. The strength of her grip seemed to convey a fear that he might run away if she didn’t hold on tightly enough.
But Hashiba didn’t have the slightest intention of running away. When he had invited Saeko to have dinner with him, he’d harbored a distant hope for this outcome.
When had Saeko begun to get under his skin? It seemed to Hashiba that she had first sparked his interest at the initial production meeting when she’d expressed herself in such a unique register. Ever since, his interest had escalated rapidly, into romantic desire. Saeko was completely different from any woman he’d ever met. Her manner of speaking — a mixture of worldliness and innocence — seemed fresh and original, and sometimes downright comical. And yet Saeko always seemed perplexed by his amusement, cocking her head to one side quizzically and following up with an even quainter string of expressions.
When Hashiba lay alone in his bed at night, he recalled Saeko’s words and expressions that day and basked in a cozy happiness. Thoughts of her seemed to melt away the stress of his job, and before he knew it he was drifting off into a peaceful slumber.
Hashiba had gotten the sense that Saeko might reciprocate his interest, but loath to give the impression of a director who hit on every woman in his path, he had made an effort to be very careful in how he approached her.
He hadn’t dared to dream that the object of his yearning would grant him such an unexpected boon.
Just a few meters from where the taxi had let them off, Saeko led Hashiba through an opening in the tall hedge that lined the sidewalk. When they turned the corner, a luxury apartment building opened its glass doors in welcome, looking for all the world like a five-star hotel. Enclosed on all sides only by thick plate glass windows, the lobby was completely visible from outside, and its chandeliers and the intricate glass sculptures shimmered like gemstones.
The courtyard between the building and hedge was densely landscaped, creating an oasis of greenery even in the heart of Tokyo. Constructed at the dawn of the bubble era, the building was more than two decades old, but there was no question that the magnificent twelve-story building was still the epitome of haute style.
Without the slightest hesitation, Saeko strode through the vestibule and opened the sealed doors with a card key. Hashiba followed along silently, his mind swirling with questions he was unable to voice.