Fuminori Nakamura - Last Winter We Parted

“… Everything?”

“Well … there is a single photo left. But it’s from when we were kids. It’s the only one I couldn’t bring myself to throw away. It’s special to me.”

“… Since the first murder, you’ve maintained all along that Yudai was innocent.”

“I still do. But … now that things have come to this, it’s too late.”

“About that photo …”

“You mean Butterflies? ”

“… Yes. Isn’t that you, the model in the photo?”

She smiles again when I ask this.

“By modeling for it, Yudai was able, through you, to express his special feelings, I mean, feelings more than just between a brother and sister.”

“You’ve got the wrong idea.”

“Maybe Yudai was using you, to say something about your long-gone mother.”

“… Don’t jump to conclusions.”

I recall how Yudai Kiharazaka said the same words to me.

“And you’re wrong. You don’t know anything. At the very least you need to have the ability to understand that.”

She continues to stare at me. With pitying eyes.

“You can’t handle this.”

“What?”

“You cannot simply come into our realm .”

“Your realm?”

“There’s no way you are capable of writing a book about us.” I again have the urge to shut the window. The branches are growing. Into the room.

“What a pity you are. Have you read Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood? ”

“… I have.”

“Really? I’m surprised. Capote wrote his nonfiction novel, and he lost his mind. Writing that book about the criminals who brutally murdered that family … At least he was able to finish it. I bet you’ll give up halfway, won’t you?”

The temperature in the room grows chilly.

“… But you’re still writing it.”

“… Yes.”

What else could I have said? Consciously I draw in a breath. I look at her.

“That … the old photo, would it be possible to see it? The one of you and Yudai.”

“It’s in my apartment … Would you come over?”

She looks at me. With concern. And yet, she still seems to be trying to draw me in. A smile plays about her lips. She narrows her eyes.

“This is too much for you.”

“… I’ll be there.”

“Don’t feel like you have to.”

She smiles again.

“Another day, then …”

I LEAVE THE inn. For whatever reason, she stays behind in the room. Maybe there is something she needs to talk to those elderly women about. Why had she pulled such attitude with me, even though she is the one who is related to a brutal murderer? They are twisted, that brother and sister …

I rub my lighter over and over, until finally it produces a small flame. As I take a drag off my cigarette, the energy suddenly drains out of my body. I shake off a sense of eeriness.

The light on my cell phone is blinking.

I look at my incoming call list. Yukie.

She called fifteen minutes ago. What timing, I think.

Hey sis, the stuff about the trial, it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing’s going to change my sentence. So I couldn’t care less about anything in your letter.

Sis, how are you getting by these days? That’s what I’d really like to hear about — what is your life like now?

Are you on your own right now, sis? After the first murder, you had said that you weren’t seeing anybody in particular, but I sensed otherwise. You met a nice guy, didn’t you. I guess it’s kind of like brotherly intuition, but I’m often right about these things. I don’t know what kind of guy he was, but he must have been a good person. I just have a feeling about this too … you’ve already broken up with him, haven’t you, sis. And … yet again, my intuition tells me that very soon, you’re going to meet someone else. Your letter just has the whiff of a man. I’ve got a feeling.

I’m sure you don’t want to hear this from me now, but you have a bad habit, sis. You have a tendency to want to ruin people — or actually, you want to ruin yourself by causing ruin to others.

The other day I remembered something from back in school, when we used to make things out of clay in art class.

It was summer, and in the heat of the classroom, the clay model I had made had melted into the clay model that was next to it. Both of them were reduced to a puddle. There was nothing to do with them but throw them away. But as they were falling into the garbage can, I could have sworn that one of them — my clay model, that is — had been smiling. I didn’t see the expression on the face of the other clay model.

Sis, you never fall alone. You’re always caught up with someone else.

… Don’t take it the wrong way. I don’t depend on you, since I can no longer depend on anyone. I heard from the lawyer that you’ve suffered emotionally. It’s my fault. I know that. It’s all my fault.

I distinctly remember when you told me to throw away all of the photographs I’d taken of you. It was a shock to learn that my photos had always made you feel strange. But the truth is, I didn’t get rid of all of them. That’s why, now … I’m sending this back to you. I’m enclosing it with this letter.

Sis, you’re my closest loved one. You’re the only person in the world whose happiness I care about. It’s all right. I’m no longer jealous of the men in your life. I just want you to be happy.

Isn’t that right? Both you and I are hated by everyone out there. That doesn’t mean it isn’t frustrating, though. Being happy would be the best revenge … Be happy enough for me too.

I know about your bad reputation too. And about the nasty remarks you made to the victim’s family after the first incident. But that was just because you cared too much about me. Right? And already at that point, sis, you weren’t in your right mind. You know … you’ve said all along that I was innocent, but you’re wrong. I did it. I killed them. How many times have I told you?… I really hope you can forgive me.

You keep telling me to file an appeal. Just like the lawyer does. But there’s no more use for me. Just be happy yourself. Let this photo be a clean break from me.

… It’s a good one, isn’t it? It seems like all of you is in here. This is one of the photos I’m most proud of. The young girl in a white dress, nervously facing the camera. Actually, you faced the whole world nervously, didn’t you, sis? And behind this expression lies your true self. Everything is apparent on your face. I captured it all in that one moment … I think it’s a terrifying image. It was cruel for me to have taken a photo like this.

Ultimately, sis, your way of dealing with the world is wrong.

The same way mine is.

YUKIE DOESN’T JUST leave a message; there is also an email from her. A brief one.

I’m not happy with you. Please contact me. Don’t you think it’s cowardly not to answer your phone?

Still, I don’t reply. I need to break things off with her. I have known all along that a guy like me never should have gotten involved with her.

An old coffee shop. I am waiting for Katani. It is five minutes past the time we were supposed to meet. He is the only person whom Yudai Kiharazaka could call a friend.

I light my second cigarette. Weary-looking men sip their coffee without any apparent pleasure. I realize I am about to check the screen on my phone again, so I open the folder and delete her message. The moment I do so, as my finger touches the pads on my phone, I feel a slight sense of discomfort. Although it is only email, it is still completely erasing someone’s words. Will my involvement with that person be erased as well? I sense someone’s presence; I look up to see a man there. It is Katani. I stand up to greet him.