Last Winter We Parted Page 10

  After that I met up with Akari in coffee shops a number of times. When I saw the lawyer from afar, we’d switch locations. Then I went to her apartment and … I slept with her. I was reassuring her as she cried inconsolably, only to find that I myself was also in need of comforting. The world without you can be a harsh place—it’s unbearable to live on, just going through the motions. I felt guilty about sleeping with someone I didn’t even love, but the two of us each needed the other to lick our wounds. At least, that’s what I told myself.

  But I was in for a surprise. I guess I still didn’t realize people could be so unpredictable. After I came inside her, I pulled away and, in the afterglow, I was stroking her hair when she ducked her head and began to quiver. Wondering what was wrong, I tried to peer at her face and was shocked to see that she was laughing. Convulsively. Her face turning painfully red.

  “Oh, it’s too much, I can’t take it … I mean, you took such a long time before you fucked me.”

  After sex, the expression of her face seemed like it was shifting, little by little. Her attitude toward me, even the way she talked—everything was different.

  “I’ve never been with a guy who pays so much attention when he’s fucking a woman. Ah, but what does it matter. Since I set you up like that.”

  She said this and once again burst into silent mirth.

  Everyone lies. But amid the overwhelming monotony of the everyday, it’s the rare individual who enjoys lying, who indulges and revels in it, who relishes treating others with malice.

  “Oh, how strange. Seriously, you really are a simpleton. When I see a guy like you, it makes my skin crawl.”

  I looked at her, stunned.

  “I’ll tell you something. That girl, Akiko Yoshimoto … I’m the one who kidnapped her.”

  “… What?”

  “Do you think a woman who’s that cautious would give in to a man’s advances? I snatched her away in a car. At my brother’s request.”

  She was still laughing.

  “Do you know Greek mythology? Just as Oedipus unknowingly kills his own father, just as Thyestes is unwittingly tricked into eating the flesh of his own sons, you have just slept with the woman who entrapped your lover. Even being so kind as to stroke her hair afterward!”

  My heart was now racing. Up until a moment ago, I had been trying to console her, making gentle love to her.

  “… So, who killed Akiko?”

  “Hm? Oh, your hypothesis was right. My brother wouldn’t kill anyone. But when the accident happened, he took the photos—he said he thought it was a lucky coincidence. But apparently the photos were failures. He said the model was no good. It’s not surprising, with a girl like her.”

  My vision had narrowed, just like when I found out about your death. But now her body was moving in close to mine again.

  “Listen, I’ll tell you something else … You know how you worried too much about Akiko Yoshimoto? That was your obsession. Your own pathological urge. Okay? Get this: the reason you fell in love with her was so that you could worry about her. Something in you needed to suffer through the pain.”

  At that moment, a tender part of me broke into tattered little pieces.

  “But that’s all over now. You pity-fucked the person who entrapped the woman you loved. You are no longer yourself. Now fuck me with your intense hatred. Let’s see which lasts longer. Fuck me. Hard. Fuck the shit out of me. You hate me, don’t you? That’s the kind of guy I like. Come on, you hate me, right? I want you to fuck the shit out of me.”

  As she said this, there was a strange dark glimmer in her eyes. With her lips parted, she smiled, still looking me in the eyes defiantly. As if she was lit from somewhere overhead, I was flooded with the feeling that she seemed to be floating before me. She pressed her lips to mine. And then I fucked her hard. At first, it felt like I was moving involuntarily; I was trembling so badly I though I might collapse. But, inside my head, I was very calm and composed. That was the moment when the plan I’ve had in mind all along began to take shape within my consciousness. In that instant, I became a monster. It almost felt as though my body were remotely detached from my self. Like I was quietly slipping away. The moment I had felt that vague fear, my body trembled as if denying it, but by the time I had the awareness to say to myself, Right now I am trembling, my consciousness had already cooled, like it was already falling away. I felt only a momentary fear toward the version of myself that would be left behind. I could no longer sense any sort of braking mechanism that would help me to maintain balance in my awareness. I must have altered something in me so that I might pit myself against this monstrous brother and sister, so that I might outrival them. Despite the steady calming of my consciousness, a smile remained pasted on my lips. Without any brakes, a person’s consciousness was likely capable of transforming into anything. As if circuits had been formed, where they had previously not existed, and were transmitting a strange heat within me. I had sex with her over and over again that night. With intense single-mindedness, and without any hesitation, yet all the while maintaining a strangely cool composure.

  The following day, I went to see that lawyer. His sole purpose in life had been vengeance against Akari. He both loved and hated her, and could think of nothing but murdering her. I continued to have sex with Akari regularly while I stayed in contact with the lawyer. In what seemed like a symbolic gesture, he had surveilled me from afar when I first met Akari, but then gradually, almost as if he were tracing a circle, he seemed to have closed the distance as he watched us. Like in Goethe’s Faust, the way the demon Mephistopheles draws ever closer to Faust … He was crazy in that particular way that stalkers are. Together we worked out our plan. Incidentally, Akari had never lost anyone whom she loved. There were only the two men who had been dumped by her and had then killed themselves.

  The lawyer guy had found a woman. She worked in the sex trade, and was drowning in debt. Yuriko Kurihara. Apparently she had graduated from a prestigious high school in Tokyo; goes to show you never really know how life is going to turn out. She might have been able to work out some kind of arrangement with her debts, but she had borrowed the money from someone she had a personal relationship with, and this person was connected to gangsters, and so there was no way for her escape unless she paid it back. There were several reasons why the lawyer had taken pains to select her from among the countless unhappy women here in Japan who are buried in debt. She had no relatives, she was similar in height and body type to Akari Kiharazaka, and somewhat resembled her, too.

  This was our plan.

  Even if the photos of you, Akiko, were delivered to the police, Yudai Kiharazaka wouldn’t be sentenced to die. But if the same thing were to happen again, and if it were clearly a murder, then there was a good chance they’d revisit the first “accident” and it would be ruled a homicide. What’s more, together with the long-shot photographs of you that he actually took—not the composites—it’s likely that the first accident would also be acknowledged as premeditated. Yuriko Kurihara wanted to acquire a new identity. I wanted revenge against Yudai and Akari Kiharazaka. And the lawyer wanted revenge on Akari. And so …

  We would burn his sister Akari, right before his eyes, so that Yudai Kiharazaka thought it was Yuriko Kurihara.

  By doing this to Yudai Kiharazaka, the exact same fate that befell you would befall his sister, Akari. When it happened to you, his photographs didn’t capture it. If we planted Yuriko Kurihara with him, even had them living together, and if Yuriko Kurihara were set on fire before him, would he just keep taking photos as before, never realizing she was really his sister? Until she were no more than ashes? Acknowledged as having brutally burned two women to death, the media would have a field day covering the murders, and he would get the death penalty. We would create the evidence that proved he was the one who did it. No one would think that two fires in a row both just happened to be accidents. I knew it. He was in a precarious situation, easy to frame. In short, we could get him sentenced to deat
h without his having actually killed anyone.

  However, there were obvious objections raised regarding this plan.

  The lawyer and I, we weren’t planning simply to kill them. Our intention was to inflict cruelty on them. That was why we devised this plan, yet Yuriko Kurihara was quite opposed to it.

  For one thing, what would we do if Yudai Kiharazaka, faced with Yuriko (actually Akari) on fire before him, went and tried to save her?

  Another factor was, in this day and age of such scientific forensic investigation, would it really be possible to switch the murder victim?

  If he were to save Yuriko (actually Akari), then our plan would come to nothing. He would discover that it was his sister who had been burned, and with Akari’s testimony, everything would be brought to light. The lawyer, Yuriko, and I would be charged with attempted murder. I was certain that Yudai Kiharazaka would just take photos without trying to save his model, and the lawyer—who was pretty familiar with Kiharazaka’s tendencies at this point—was of the same opinion, but Yuriko didn’t know Kiharazaka well and kept up her objections. That was how we decided that if Yudai Kiharazaka tried to save his sister, the lawyer would shoot him with a pistol. Then the lawyer would set his sister on fire again. The course of our plan would fall through but, ultimately, the two of them would both be dead anyhow. As it happened, Kiharazaka did just go on taking photos, so there was no need to kill him with the pistol. The ironic thing is, because he took those photos of his sister burning, he was able to extend his life, at least until his execution. Had we killed him with a gun, it would have been quite an inscrutable crime scene. A burnt corpse, the photographer who had apparently filmed it, yet the photographer had been shot dead … The investigation might have found us out, or we might have been able to get away. But at least for the lawyer and me, it didn’t matter what happened after our plan transpired.

  The second factor was the viability of switching the murder victim. But this was comparatively simple. All I had to do was marry Yuriko Kurihara.

  She and I were married for appearance’s sake. That’s how she went from being Yuriko Kurihara to Yuriko Kobayashi. If Yudai Kiharazaka was going to take the photos, then accordingly the building would be severely damaged in the fire. Left at the scene would be Kiharazaka, camera in hand, and a completely burned corpse that had been slowly and carefully doused with kerosene and fire accelerant. The woman’s body would be wearing Yuriko Kobayashi’s clothing. The clothing would burn completely but maybe the fragment of a button might remain. Naturally, Yudai Kiharazaka would think the burnt body was Yuriko Kobayashi. That’s what he would tell the police. But they wouldn’t know for sure that it was Yuriko Kobayashi just by someone seeing it firsthand.

  In order to officially confirm whether the burnt corpse was Yuriko Kobayashi or not, they would contact Kobayashi’s family. That was me, her husband, since she didn’t have any parents or siblings or relatives. Bawling my eyes out, I’d stoop over her dead body. This was the ring she was wearing, and this button on her clothing, I’d say tearfully. But the police, seeking conclusive evidence, would probably ask if I had something that might contain a strand of her hair or the like. So that, if possible, they could test it for DNA. Without any protest, I would then hand it over to them. A strand from Akari Kiharazaka’s comb. I’d say it was Yuriko’s hair … Of course the DNA would match.

  There was one last thing to make sure of. Verification of her dental records.

  I thought it would probably be enough for the distraught husband to identify her body, but we needed to make doubly sure.

  Dental records are often used as a means of identifying bodies. Although the theory often used is that if the position of the teeth are the same as in the records then it probably is safe to say they are a match, the fact is that dental records are not always treated as incontrovertible evidence at trial. What’s more, dental records in Japan are not compiled in a nationwide database. Each dentist still has their own method of keeping patients’ charts. That means the police have to go to the victim’s dental clinic to see the records.

  So I made a point of telling Akari that she would be even more of a beauty if she fixed up her teeth. Then I sent her to get a simple teeth whitening at a small dental clinic run by an acquaintance of the lawyer, and while she was there, even though she didn’t have any cavities, he checked her teeth to make sure. Now they would have Akari’s dental records. All we had to do was change the name on the chart to Yuriko Kobayashi. Then those teeth would be registered as belonging to her. The police would go to the dental clinic. They would see the chart there with Yuriko Kobayashi’s name on it. Those dental records would of course be identical to those of the burnt corpse. I didn’t think it was necessary to go to those lengths and, as it turned out, it wasn’t. But the lawyer and I, we were caught up in our own kind of madness. Sometimes madness gives rise to tenaciousness and an obsession with details. I now applied the same fixation as when I had insistently worried about you to the task of strengthening our plan.

  This dentist was a troubled man. Around the time when the lawyer had attempted suicide because of Akari, he had taken on a number of clients who had similar difficulties. He had resolved the dentist’s financial problems through fairly illicit means. The dentist was greatly indebted to the lawyer and vulnerable to him. But since all he had to do was change the name on a chart, this required relatively little effort when compared with such a debt.

  One of the reasons the lawyer had chosen Yuriko Kobayashi was that she bore a certain resemblance to Akari. Which was why he was sure that Yudai Kiharazaka would take a liking to her. I’m a fan of yours—that was how Yuriko approached him. I’m working freelance as a model. For my next job, I want you to take photos of me. Well, the job is just an excuse. Really, I only wanted a reason to talk to you. I saw a picture of you in a magazine article about your photograph Butterflies …

  She casually mentioned how attractive the opposite sex seemed to find her. The suggestion made him gradually start to look at her lustfully. Yuriko Kobayashi was definitely beautiful. It was easy to seduce a starving man. Akari was beautiful too, but she was also a terrifying woman. If Yuriko’s life hadn’t been shackled by her debts, she might have ruined quite a number of men herself.

  At the beginning of January, we had her start keeping a diary. A diary that portrayed her as an ordinary housewife. An ordinary housewife who wouldn’t give up on her dream of becoming a model. We had her write that she might be being followed. And then the day after she started staying at Yudai Kiharazaka’s house, we had her temporarily stop writing in her diary.

  We had her do the same thing on Twitter. On Twitter, she hid the fact that she was a housewife, pretending that she was just a woman who worked as a model. As if she were living out her fantasy life in a virtual world. As if just by looking at her diary and Twitter account, however ordinary she may seem, you could tell how likable she was. Then she suddenly stopped tweeting after she started staying at Yudai Kiharazaka’s house. And we made a point of sending her all the way to Chiba once, and had her shut off her cell phone there.

  All of these things come from the lawyer’s madness and my own. We were both morbidly and relentlessly fixated on the details.

  At the place where she had worked in the sex trade, of course she had used a false name. Since she hadn’t borrowed any money from that place itself, she was able to tell them she was taking a leave of absence. The lawyer and I took over the monthly payments on her debts. She read many of the books that I recommended. We talked about lots of stuff other than the plan. I figured we ought to know at least some things about each other.

  About four days after she started staying at Kiharazaka’s house, I went to talk to the police. Once before, she was gone for about a week without any contact. She can be a little emotionally unstable. If she knew that I had gone to the police, she’d be angry with me. That’s why I wasn’t sure whether or not to file a missing person’s report. Yet I can’t help but worry …


  The police asked me if there was any sign that she was with another man. I acted flustered. It was probably true, but I didn’t want to think so, nor could I believe it … The police said, rather perfunctorily, that if I wanted to file a missing person’s report I needed to say so, and I pretended to be at a loss and went home, only to return two days later with a photo of her when I filed the report. Being that it wasn’t a criminal case and was most likely a disappearance involving an extramarital affair, I knew that the police wouldn’t take it seriously. It’s only after an incident has occurred that police in Japan start doing anything in earnest. Despite how many women are murdered by stalkers they have reported beforehand, the police still haven’t changed the way they respond.

  Nevertheless, even when they made a serious effort, I doubted they’d be able to make the connection between Yudai Kiharazaka and my “wife.” She still had with her the diary that would later become evidence, and her husband—me—wasn’t supposed to know that she had starting using Twitter. Even when they investigated her cell phone records, all they could see was that her phone had been turned off somewhere outside of Tokyo. Anyway that would fall under the jurisdiction of the Chiba police, not the Tokyo Metropolitan police department.

  Yuriko Kobayashi was playing a dangerous game. But she had no choice other than to go along with our scheme. Here before her was the chance to escape a life in the sex trade, drowning in debt, for a life where she might attain a certain degree of affluence. Akari Kiharazaka didn’t have a driver’s license or a passport. The only things that could prove her identity were her insurance card and her pension account book, along with the sort of certificate of residence that was archived in the local government office. None of these included a head-shot. As long as Kobayashi had Akari’s insurance card and her pension account book, she could request an official copy of her family register from the municipal office where her permanent residence is as if it were her own, and with a copy of her resident card she could then apply for and receive a passport with a photo of herself attached. Why is it that insurance cards in Japan don’t have photos? Or why don’t they require people to carry a photo ID? Wouldn’t it be a good strategy for the auto industry if a driver’s license became the typical form of identification? I don’t know, but it seems like there are a number of major loopholes like this in the system here in Japan. But then again, even with a photo attached, any number of documents can be forged. And if Yuriko Kobayashi were to die, her debts would be discharged, and she could go on living as Akari Kiharazaka. I was never really worried, despite the fact that I was now her husband, because even though it was a personal loan from a gangster, I wasn’t a cosigner, and what’s more, it was an illegal contract to start with, so there wouldn’t be any obligation to pay it. Because of the kind of person Akari was, she didn’t have any friends. And since she lived off of her inheritance, she didn’t have a job either. She was a woman on her own in Tokyo, a woman who occasionally lured a man into her solitary life. I often wondered, if she were to disappear, would anyone other than her brother Yudai even notice? I knew that the PIN number for her ATM card was 0789, and that the one for her credit card was 2289. Yuriko Kobayashi would be able to assume her identity and live her life indefinitely. After the incident, she could go into hiding to avoid the media, while providing her “brother” with that lawyer and leaving Yudai Kiharazaka to take the brunt of it all. Later, when the time was right, she could get a passport and disappear to South America, where she had always yearned to visit.