Chapter 5

SOMETHING I FOUND SURPRISING—something that I had learned during our first strategy meeting at the café—was that I’d apparently realized Hibiki had feelings for Chizuru well before she did.

“It was quite a few years back now,” I explained. “Him, me, and a group of three or four other guys were out drinking somewhere. On a whim, we started playing this drinking game where we’d look up a bunch of photos of random actresses and idols, and everyone had to pick who they thought was the cutest. If two people picked the same girl, they both had to take a shot of tequila.”

“You boys and your stupid games…” she said.

“Hey, we were in our early twenties, all right? It’s perfectly normal.”

So I said—and yet, at the same time, this wasn’t the sort of anecdote I’d want my wife to find out about, if I could help it.

“Wait, so let me guess…” said Chizuru. “He picked the girls who looked most like me, didn’t he?”

“Nope,” I answered, ignoring the blush spreading rapidly across her face. “The complete opposite, actually. Maybe this is just my intuition speaking, but from where I was sitting, it felt like he was deliberately trying to pick girls who were the most unlike you.”

“Uh… Wouldn’t that imply that I’m not his type, genius?”

“Hey, no need to get snippy. I’m not talking about their faces or their body types or anything like that—I’m saying they all had a totally different vibe from you.”

“And what exactly is my ‘vibe,’ pray tell?”

“You’re, like… Man, it’s a little hard to put into words…”

“Why, because you’re afraid I’ll punch you?”

“No, you idiot. It’s just, like…”

I only realized what a deep hole I’d dug for myself after I’d started trying to explain it—but there was no backing out now. I tried my very best to scrounge together some roundabout, PG-13 way of describing her general aura that wouldn’t piss her off and result in me getting socked in the gut. I swallowed hard.

“Y-you’re the sort of girl who looks good in a leather jacket, let’s put it that way.”

“What, so I’ve got a butch face and a small chest? Why don’t you try that again, bucko? And choose your words carefully this time.”

“Well, my backup answer was that you’re the ‘cool and slender’ type, but it sounds like you got the idea.”

I’d never been asked to give an appraisal of a friend’s face or body type directly to them before, let alone a woman’s. I’d say I did pretty all right on short notice.

“So, you’re saying Hibiki only picked girls with super cutesy faces and huge boobs, then? Wouldn’t the more reasonable conclusion be that’s his type of girl?”

“No, because you see, we’ve been playing this game ever since college.”

“Oh, great! So you’ve been objectifying women ever since we met, then!”

“Just listen for a second? My point is: I knew going in what types of performers he usually picked. But this time, for whatever reason, he went in the complete opposite direction. It went from a matter of addition to subtraction, basically—but the end sum was the same.”

“Sorry, why are we doing math all of a sudden?”

“In the past, if you were to add together all the most distinguishing features of the girls he picked, the resulting hypothetical woman would’ve looked a lot like you, Chizuru. But this time, it was more like if you took away all their most prominent traits you’d end up with that same hypothetical woman. Basically, he had no problem picking girls like you as his ‘type’ before, but once he realized he had feelings for you, his ‘type’ suddenly shifted to the exact opposite, probably to avoid raising any suspicions. I tested him on it a few more times after that and got the same results. So whether it’s the main reason he fell for you or not, I think it’s safe to say he’s a fan of your appearance.”

“Yeah, right! There’s no way in hell!”

As she fired back with this outright denial, her face contorted into a strained sort of smile—one that looked to me like a deadly mixture of embarrassment, modesty, and thinly veiled delight all stirred together to cause an explosive chemical reaction.

“But, well…I guess I could see him doing something crafty like that, to be fair. Going out of his way to pick girls who explicitly don’t look like me, I mean…”

It had been a few months since this discussion at our last strategy meeting—and now, two weeks after the group hot spring trip, we’d made plans to get together again. Not to have another strategy meeting, mind you but because something urgent came up that required us to pay a visit somewhere.

We’d just met up at the station nearest our destination and were walking side by side through suburban residential streets. We’d been in contact after the trip, of course, but this was our first time meeting up in person since. It was right on the verge of full-blown winter, and the cold wind stung against the backs of my dry, chapped hands as I waited for Chizuru to buy a hot lemon tea from a vending machine.

Man, this blows, I wanted to say—but that would be rude to all parties involved.

“Well, even if the plan was a failure,” I said, “as long as you feel like it hardened your resolve, I guess it wasn’t for nothing.”

“Yeah, no,” Chizuru agreed. “Ever since that day, I haven’t felt nauseous or uncertain about this even once.”

I meant it: If she felt more optimistic about this now, that was all that mattered, really. Or was it? On second thought, maybe it was actually a little weird to feel optimistic about your plan to break your friend’s heart.

But we’d gained more from that road trip than Chizuru’s newfound mental fortitude. One of the other main objectives of getting together with everyone was so we could kick our group dynamic back into gear, to hopefully make it easier for us to hang out like that more often—like how we used to. These things were always a lot easier to do the second and third time, once you’d already broken the ice.

“Honestly, I think I’d be ready to dive into the next stage of the operation any day now,” said Chizuru. “From an emotional standpoint, at least.”

“Yeah, I’d hope so,” I said. “Your time limit’s gonna start creepin’ up on you pretty soon here.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem. After last time, I feel like we could probably set up a situation where he and I end up alone together someplace with a much moodier atmosphere and it probably wouldn’t even feel all that weird. Also, uh, I know I probably should have asked you this before we met up, but—does your company know about this?”

“About what?”

“That you’re bringing a friend along on a work errand?”

She flashed me a wry little smirk, then took a sip of her hot lemon tea.

“I don’t see what the problem is,” I said. “You’ve got your own reasons for being there too, don’t you?”

“You just don’t wanna admit you’re a little intimidated by Kao, do you?”

“I’m not intimidated by her. But I’ll admit it does feel a little weird meeting up with her one-on-one as client and contractor when we’ve been friends for so long.”

“Yeah, I get it. Sucks being put into a position where you have to kiss up to someone who’s on equal standing with you in your personal life.”

I had my briefcase in my right hand, and dangling from my left was a bag full of baked sweets—they were from a ritzy Western bakery with only a few locations in the entire metropolitan area. Beside me was Chizuru, who looked a lot less professional, but at least she wasn’t wearing a leather jacket. Apparently, she didn’t want to risk hurting the kids with all the hard fastening bits on it, in the event that they asked her to play.

As we walked beneath the cold overcast sky, we spitballed a few random ideas about what we could do for the next stage of the operation. Just as Chizuru was trying to explain something about the “suspension bridge effect,” and how a haunted house might be just the ticket, we arrived at a cookie-cutter home with the nameplate we were looking for: Niimura. Hanao’s husband’s last name.

Before ringing the doorbell, I straightened my posture. Chizuru laughed at me.

Why don’t you just have Karin-chan deliver it to me himself? That’d be fun. It had been a week since Hanao sent our managing editor that email. The next day he gave the order and instructed me to be sure to pick up a box of cakes for her while I was at it. So much for keeping my personal life out of the workplace, I guess. After stressing myself out about it for a while, I ultimately got in touch with Chizuru and used the prospect of getting to see her kids as bait to lure her into accompanying me. Yes, I knew this was not the most upstanding, mature adult thing to do. And I did not care.

There was no answer over the doorbell intercom system, but the front door soon opened regardless. A bespectacled Hanao in a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans came out to greet us with a laidback flick of a handwave. From behind her, two little girls came running out shouting, “Someone’s here!” before being ushered back into the house by their mother. Smiling, I opened the front gate and walked toward the door.

“Come on in, you two,” said Hanao. “Blurring the lines between work and play today, I see.”

“Hey, I’m here 100 percent on business,” I said.

“And I’m here to play!” said Chizuru. “Hi there, you two! Remember me?”

“Nope!” said one of the girls.

“Nuh-uh!” said the other.

As much as it impressed me that these kids seemed to have no fear of strangers whatsoever, it impressed me even more to see Chizuru apparently thought there was any chance of them remembering a random lady. The older kid had only met her once before, and the younger one had only waved to her a couple of times over video chat. Still, it was better than the alternative: If she wasn’t the sort of person who loved kids, I wouldn’t have been able to rope her into coming along with me.

After introducing ourselves to the kids in the living room, I let them know I had important work stuff to talk about with their mommy. Chizuru informed them she’d come to be their playmate, whisking them away to the rec room in the back of the first floor.

“Oh yeah?! Your Auntie Chizuru’s pretty good at that game, y’know!”

“Me too!”

“Me three, me three!”

“You sure about that?”

I could hear them chatting excitedly as they walked down the hallway.

“Glad they finally have a babysitter who’s on the same wavelength,” Hanao said, chuckling at the childish nature of a girl she once thought of as an older sister. “All right, Mr. Businessman—coffee or tea?”

“No need for either,” I said. “But coffee, if you insist.”

“You got it.”

“Here’s the sweets you asked for, by the way.”

“Ooh, thanks. Probably my number one craving in terms of things I always wanna eat but would never go out of my way to buy. Anyway, have a seat.”

I sat down at the dining table as instructed and pulled the file folder for our meeting out of my briefcase. I could hear mugs clinking, water boiling in an electric kettle, instant coffee packets being ripped open, and hot water being poured, followed by the smell of cheap coffee wafting into the living room. These little things all came together to make this house truly feel like a cozy family home. Enough that I had to rebuke myself for being so nervous to come here alone.

“My husband won’t be home until later tonight, so no need to feel antsy,” said Hanao—a disclaimer I deeply appreciated.

“Thanks for the coffee,” I said, coming back to my senses. “And here’s the new contract for you. You can sign and stamp it right now, and I’ll take it back with me, or if you want more time to look it over, you can mail it back at a later date.”

“Nah, I’ll read it now. Gimme one sec.”

She took the paperwork out of the transparent folder I’d handed her, then leaned on her elbow and started to read through the boring legalese. As I watched her give it a quick skim, I couldn’t help but be reminded of a thought I’d had on our road trip—compared to Chizuru and Mai-tan, she was the woman in our friend group who looked like she’d aged the least over the past ten-plus years I’d known her. Maybe being an “artiste” helped keep her young, who knows.

I had two work-related objectives today. The first was to get her signature on this contract. The second was to hand over the manuscript for a novel—one of our agents wanted Hanao to do the cover art for it. I knew from my managing editor that this particular author was a bit of a crabby old fart, so I’d already let him know I’d be opting out of any group meetings or client dinners that included both her and Hanao, no matter the circumstances.

After a couple minutes of silence, Hanao gave a satisfied nod, then got up from her chair to grab a pen and her personal seal. Without saying a word, I watched as the ink set into the page. I could hear the sound of boisterous laughter coming from the rec room.

She stamped her seal onto two copies of the contract, one of which I took and stowed safely in my briefcase. This meant our most critical bit of business here today was done. All that remained now was to hand her the manuscript and engage in a bit of friendly small talk while I finished my coffee.

Something about Hanao that had always stood out to me was her distinct ability to make you feel completely at ease, then blindside you with a sneak attack out of nowhere without missing a beat. She’d probably make a good assassin, honestly.

“So, what was the ‘objective’ of that little vacation, anyhow?” she asked me suddenly, just as I was about to tilt my coffee mug back to take a swig. This question froze me in place.

“Sorry?” I said. “What do you mean by ‘objective’?”

“I mean, the whole thing was your idea, right? That’s what Mai said, anyway.”

“Yeah, she and I were talking for the first time in a while, and I just thought it’d be nice to go on a group vacation, that’s all. She handled basically everything else herself, though.”

“You must’ve thought you were pretty slick and got away with it, didn’t you? Because I know if I had ulterior motives and wanted to get the whole group together for something, I’d definitely reach out to Mai first as well.”

She flashed me an ominous grin that was clearly meant to unnerve me, so I obliged, then finally took a sip of coffee to buy myself a bit of thinking time.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured me. “I don’t actually know anything. Just prodding you a little.”’

“I dunno what you’re talking about,” I lied. “There weren’t any ‘ulterior motives’—at least not on my part.”

“Oh really, now? And you expect me to believe you’d call the whole group together if it were just for an innocent little vacation? Including me?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I? You’re part of our friend group too.”

“You’re so easy to read, Karin-chan—but I like that about you. Not that I mind Hibiki’s cheekiness or Taiga-niki’s total indifference either, of course.”

I didn’t have any idea what she was trying to get at here. Was she really just grilling me for the fun of it? Maybe so, because she promptly cut the conversation short and stood up again to fetch a small paper bag from a corner of the living room. She pulled a thinnish white box out if it, about ten inches long. There was a simple fork and knife pattern printed on the front of it.

“Here, I want you to have this,” she said. “Consider it a thank-you present for forcing you to come all the way out here.”

“Silverware?” I asked.

“Nah. It’s a little coupon catalog of two-person meal vouchers I got as a gift. But it’s almost exclusively for restaurants downtown and it expires at the end of the year. I figured you could make better use of it than I could.”

“Don’t feel like taking your husband out on a date night?”

“We don’t really do fancy restaurants as a couple anymore. Much easier to just go to regular old chain restaurants where we can bring the kids along.”

While some might not consider this much of a “thank-you present,” I decided to take the sentiment at face value and graciously thanked her.

“Have you been in touch with Hibiki and Taiga-san at all?” I asked, circling back.

“Taiga-niki messages me every time he sees my art in the wild,” said Hanao. “Think the last time I saw Hibiki was about two-ish years ago, when I asked him to introduce me to a good tax counselor and treated him to lunch. But we do talk every now and then.”

“What, a CPA like him couldn’t just serve as your tax counselor?”

“Not while working at an auditing firm, apparently. Plus, I don’t really like having working relationships with my friends, if I can help it.”

“Oh, yeah? Guess that rule doesn’t apply to me though, huh?”

I actually felt a little bit salty about this comment, but we both laughed regardless. Maybe it was because it felt like there was an underlying emotion there we could both relate to, now that we were grown adults—a sort of camaraderie in resignation.

After taking one more sip of my coffee, I heard crying coming from the other room. Hanao got up and made a sarcastic quip, saying “That better not be Chizu-nee,” before hurrying to check on her friend and her children.

Alone at the table, I opened the little box in front of me and leafed through the surprisingly thick catalog of coupons and meal vouchers.

It was then that I decided what the next stage of the operation should be.

Incidentally, when I tried to give Hanao that manuscript, she shoved it right back in my face.

“Oh, hell no. I can’t stand this author—always acting like she’s speaking on behalf of all women. Hard pass.”