akoto Takamiya stared at the patent application in his hand: Physical Properties of Eddy-Current Testing Coils. He’d just finished talking on the phone with the technician who’d written the application. Makoto stood and looked over towards the wall where four ‘data entry technicians’ – their official title – sat with their backs to him in front of a row of computer terminals. The technicians were all women, three temp workers dressed in civilian clothes and one full-time employee in an official Tozai Automotive uniform.

While the company had previously kept all patent information on microfilm, they were currently in the process of transferring everything over to floppy disk to enable computer-based searches. Lately, more and more companies were using temp workers for these kinds of tasks. Though the temp agencies were probably running foul of the Employment Security Act, the previous administration had given them legal status and established a ‘Temporary Staffing Services Law’ in an attempt to afford them some protection.

Makoto walked towards the woman sitting on the far left. She had long hair tied behind her head in a braid – ‘so as not to interfere with my typing,’ she had told him once.

Chizuru Misawa looked between her screen and the paper stand next to it, her fingers flashing over the keys with blinding speed. The movements of the women were so fast and so precise, it sometimes gave one the impression of watching robots on an assembly line.

‘Ms Misawa?’ said Makoto.

Chizuru’s hands stopped as though a switch had been thrown. There was a beat before she turned to look in Makoto’s direction. She was wearing large-lens glasses, with black frames. There was a hardness in her look that came from staring at the screen for so long, but when she saw Makoto, her expression softened.

‘Yes?’ A smile came to her lips. Her pink lipstick matched the milky white of her skin well, Makoto thought. Though her roundish face gave her a young look, he had learned through previous conversations that she was only a year younger than him.

‘I was wondering what other applications we’ve had for eddy-current testing coils.’

‘“Eddy-current”, you said?’

‘Yeah.’ Makoto showed her the title of the paper in his hand.

She quickly jotted down a memo. ‘Sure thing. I’ll take a look, and if I find anything, shall I print it out and bring it your desk?’ she asked crisply.

‘That’d be great. Sorry to interrupt you.’

‘All part of the job,’ Chizuru said with a smile. That was her catchphrase. It might have been the catchphrase of all the temp workers, but Makoto wouldn’t know. He’d only spoken directly to her.

Back at his seat, one of his co-workers asked him if he was ready to go on break. ‘Not quite,’ replied Makoto, shaking his head. ‘Break’ entailed lingering by the vending machines that dispensed drinks into a paper cup. Unusually for a Japanese company at the time, Tozai Automotive didn’t believe in making their female employees serve tea to their male counterparts.

Makoto had been in the Patent Licensing Division of Tozai Automotive’s Tokyo headquarters for three years now. Tozai Automotive made starters, spark plugs, and other electrical components for vehicles. Patent licensing was responsible for managing the intellectual property rights for all of their products. Specifically, they helped their own researchers file patent applications for new technologies, and devised strategies and countermeasures when they had to dispute another company’s patent claim.

Chizuru arrived at Makoto’s desk with some printouts a short while later. ‘I think these are what you were looking for?’

‘Thanks so much,’ Makoto said, glancing over the sheets. ‘Have you taken a break yet?’

‘No.’

‘Great, let’s get some tea. My treat.’ Makoto stood and walked towards the door, looking over his shoulder to make sure Chizuru was following him.

The vending machines were in the hallway. Makoto got a cup of coffee and stood to drink it by the windows a short distance away. Chizuru came over, holding her cup of lemon tea in both hands.

‘That must be tough hitting the keyboard all day like that. Don’t your shoulders cramp up?’ Makoto asked.

‘It’s harder on the eyes than the shoulders, staring at the screen all day long.’

‘I can imagine.’

She smiled. ‘Oh, my eyesight has got much worse since I started this job. I was fine without glasses before.’

‘Sounds like an occupational hazard.’

He’d noticed that Chizuru took off her glasses when she was away from the terminal. Her eyes looked much larger without them.

‘It must wear you out, having to shuttle back and forth from company to company,’ he said.

‘At least I’m in data entry. The IT guys have it worse. They’re always pulling all-nighters before deadlines. Since the regular employees are using the computers during the day, they have to do all of their debugging and fixing at night. I heard one guy had overtime of more than a hundred and seventy hours.’

‘Is that even possible?’

‘Depending on what they’re working on, it can take two or three hours just to print out the program. So he’d bring a sleeping bag to sleep in front of the monitor. He said he’d trained himself to wake up when the printer stops moving.’

‘That’s crazy,’ Makoto shook his head. ‘I hope they get paid for all of that.’

Chizuru chuckled dryly. ‘They only hire temp workers because they’re cheap. Kind of like… disposable lighters.’

‘I admit, I didn’t really know how bad it was. I’m surprised so many people stick with it.’

‘We have to eat.’

Makoto gave her a sidelong glance, watching her lips purse as she sipped her tea. ‘What about our company?’ he asked. ‘We treating you OK, I hope?’

‘Tozai is one of the better ones. Clean workplace, and good atmosphere,’ she said, but then her brows knitted. ‘I probably won’t be able to work here much longer, though.’

‘Really? Why?’

Makoto’s heart thudded in his chest. This was unexpected news.

‘I’ll be finished with my allotted amount by next week. My initial contract is only for six months, and even if I did a final check through, it won’t take me much longer than a couple of days.’

Makoto crushed his empty paper cup. He felt like he should say something, but he didn’t know what.

‘I wonder what kind of company I’ll get next,’ Chizuru said, a faint smile blooming on her face as she stared out the window.

After work that day, Chizuru had dinner at an Italian restaurant in Aoyama with her friend Akemi, another temp assigned to Tozai. They were both the same age, and unmarried, so these dinners had become something of a weekly tradition for them.

‘Guess we’ll be saying bye-bye pretty soon,’ Akemi said. ‘When I think about the mountain of patents we got through, I’m kinda impressed.’ She sipped from a glass of white wine and stabbed a piece of octopus out of her salad with a fork.

Chizuru smiled. Though her friend always wore make-up and feminine clothes, the way she ate and often the way she talked were very rough. ‘It’s my downtown roots,’ she was fond of saying.

‘Still, the pay wasn’t bad,’ Chizuru noted. ‘Especially compared to that steel company. They were terrible.’

‘Yeah, I’m kinda hoping we don’t get another one like that for a while.’ Akemi frowned. ‘The bosses were a bunch of idiots. They had absolutely no idea how to use us. I think they thought we were slaves or something. It was certainly slave wages.’

Chizuru smiled and took a sip of wine. Somehow, listening to Akemi bitch about things was an excellent outlet for her own stress.

‘So what will you do?’ Chizuru asked. ‘Off to the next place right away?’

‘That’s the question, isn’t it?’ Akemi skewered a slice of courgette and rested her chin on her other hand. ‘I think I might quit.’

‘No kidding? Boyfriend pressure?’

‘Yeah,’ Akemi frowned. ‘He says he doesn’t mind me working all the time, but I’m not sure he really means it. You know, we’re always ships passing in the night with our schedules the way they are, and trying to set up a date night is like pulling teeth. Besides, he says he wants children, which of course would mean I can’t work anymore, so why not quit now, I say.’

Chizuru had started nodding halfway through. ‘Yeah. You can’t keep working these hours for ever anyway.’

‘Yup.’ Akemi popped the courgette into her mouth.

She was due to get married next month. Her fiancé was a salaryman five years older than her. They’d had an ongoing argument about whether she should keep working after they got married, and it sounded like a decision had finally been made.

The pasta arrived. Chizuru had the sea-urchin cream spaghetti, and Akemi the garlic pepperoncini. It was Akemi’s stated belief that a life lived in fear of stinking like garlic wasn’t worth living.

‘What about you, Chizuru? Going to keep at it for a while?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said, using her fork to twine her spaghetti into a ball. She let it rest on the plate for a while. ‘I’m thinking I might go back to my parents’ house for a bit.’

‘Sapporo, right? It’s nice up there,’ Akemi said.

Chizuru had come down to Tokyo for college, and hadn’t been home for more than a couple of days at a time since.

‘When would this be?’

‘When Tozai finishes up, I guess.’

‘So, soon. Like next weekend soon.’ Akemi said, shovelling some pepperoncini into her mouth. She swallowed and said, ‘Hey, isn’t Mr Takamiya getting married that Sunday?’

‘What, really?’

‘Yeah, I’m pretty sure I overheard some people talking about it.’

‘No kidding. Someone from the company?’

‘I don’t think so. Some college sweetheart, I heard.’

‘Right,’ Chizuru said, mechanically putting spaghetti in her mouth. It tasted like nothing.

‘I don’t know who she is, but she’s done well for herself. They don’t make many men like that.’

‘Look at you, talking like you’re not about to get married yourself. Or is he your type, Akemi?’ Chizuru teased.

‘It’s less about type and more about the financial package that comes with it. His parents are big landowners, you know.’

‘I had no idea.’

Despite the many times they’d got tea together, they had rarely discussed private matters.

‘Yeah they’re quite the elites. His house is out in Seijo and they own all kinds of land around there. An apartment building, too. It sounds like his father passed away, but they’re living just fine on rental income. Heck, the lack of a father-in-law is probably a bonus.’

‘You’re certainly well-informed,’ Chizuru said, looking across the table at her.

‘Oh, the talk’s made the rounds of the entire patent team. Apparently more than a few of the women had set their sights on him. Too bad they can’t all be college sweethearts.’ Akemi seemed to have enjoyed the entire spectacle, possibly because she hadn’t ever been in the running herself.

‘I think even if he weren’t rich or good-looking he’d be a catch,’ Chizuru said. ‘I mean, he’s always been a gentleman to the temps. You know how rare that is.’

Akemi waved her hand. ‘See, now you’re just showing your own inexperience. It’s only the rich families that produce that kind of class. The money comes first. Looks and style follow, every time. Put the same kid in a poor family and you can kiss all that goodbye. I bet he’d be all bucktoothed, too.’

‘Maybe you’re right,’ Chizuru said, laughing.

The main dish arrived and the conversation drifted on to their fish and other matters, and never once returned to the subject of Makoto Takamiya.

It was a little after ten o’clock when Chizuru got back to her apartment. Akemi seemed like she wanted to go for a nightcap, but Chizuru turned her down, pleading fatigue.

She opened the door and flicked on the switch, filling her one-room apartment with pale fluorescent light. The sight of the clothes, bags and magazines lying scattered throughout the room increased her weariness tenfold. She’d been living in the same apartment since sophomore year at college, and at times it felt like her room was a physical catalogue of all her worries and breakdowns.

She flopped into the bed in the corner without even bothering to change. The bed frame creaked loudly as she landed on the mattress. Nothing’s new. Everything’s just getting older.

Makoto’s face floated through her mind.

She hadn’t been completely unaware that he had someone in his life. She’d heard one of the women, an employee in the licensing division, say something about it not too long ago. But she’d never known how serious it was, and she’d never asked. There wasn’t anything she could have done about it, anyway.

There was really only one thing she liked about being a temp worker, and that was meeting people – especially men. Each new posting was a chance to meet Mr Right, even if nothing had panned out so far. She even suspected the female employees at some companies of purposely arranging things, like where the temp workers sat, to minimise their chances of meeting men.

But not at Tozai Automotive. She’d only been one day on the job when she met the man of her dreams: Makoto Takamiya. His looks were what first caught her attention, not that he would have passed for a model or a movie star. It was the quality of upbringing he exuded with every act, as though he existed on a higher level of being. She had known her share of young dandies, but most of them just dressed the part. He was the genuine article.

The more she worked with Makoto, the more she realised her first impressions had been spot on. He was kind to the temp workers, to the point that he’d even stuck up for them more than once when things went wrong due to bad instructions or overly optimistic schedules.

She’d gone so far as to imagine they might get married one day.

He seemed to like her too. At least he was aware of her. He never said as much, but the way he acted, the furtive glances, the way he talked – all told the same story.

And yet she had been mistaken. She thought back to their tea break that day, and laughed at her own stupidity. She’d been this close to saying something truly embarrassing.

This is it, she’d thought when he asked her to go on break with him. He’s finally going to ask me on a date. But the question never came, and when she played the only card she had left and told him she’d be leaving soon, she’d got nothing more than a ‘good luck’.

Of course, after hearing what Akemi had to say about him, she realised his unavailable status had been plainly obvious to everyone but her. Someone a week away from getting married isn’t going to think of a temp as anything more than a co-worker, if they think of them at all. The only reason he was nice to me is because he’s nice.

She decided it was better not to think about him anymore. Sitting up with some effort, she reached for the phone by her pillow to call her parents in Sapporo. She wondered how they’d react when she told them she was coming home.

A crisp breeze blew in through the bay window. It had been deep into the rainy season when he’d first come to see the place, Makoto thought, but that was already three months ago. ‘Perfect day for moving,’ his mother said, pausing from wiping the floor. ‘I was worried about the weather, but the movers will certainly be happy with this.’

‘They’re professionals,’ Makoto said. ‘They don’t care about the weather.’

‘I doubt that. Didn’t Yamashita’s new wife move in last month during the typhoon? They said it was hell.’

‘Well, a typhoon is another matter. Besides, it’s already October.’

‘It can rain in October,’ she said. She’d gone back to wiping when the doorbell rang.

‘Who could that be?’ Makoto wondered out loud.

‘Isn’t it Yukiho?’

‘But she has a key,’ he said, picking the intercom off its hook on the wall. ‘Yes?’

‘It’s me.’

‘Oh, hey. You forget your key?’

‘Well, no —’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll buzz you in.’

Makoto pressed the button to unlock the front door to the building, then he went to make sure the door to their unit was open and waited there for Yukiho to arrive. He heard the door open and footsteps before she came around the corner in a green cardigan and white cotton trousers. She had her jacket over one arm – it was particularly hot for autumn.

‘Hey.’ Makoto smiled at her.

‘Sorry I’m late. I had some shopping to do.’ Yukiho showed him the supermarket bags in her hands. He saw cleaning products, sponges, and rubber gloves.

‘I thought you finished cleaning last week?’

‘Well, yes, but it’s already been a week, and once the furniture gets in, there’s going to be new dirt everywhere.’

Makoto shook his head. ‘Exactly what my mother said. She’s got a whole truckload of sponges and soap in there already.’

‘I’d better get helping, then!’ Yukiho hurriedly took off her sneakers.

Makoto raised an eyebrow. He’d never seen her in anything other than high heels. In fact, this was the first time he’d seen her in something other than a dress or skirt. He commented on it and she gave him an exasperated look. ‘On moving day? How am I supposed to help in a skirt?’

‘That’s right,’ said his mother from inside. She came to the door, her sleeves rolled up past her elbows. She was smiling. ‘Hello, Yukiho.’

‘Hello.’ Yukiho gave a little bow of her head.

‘I apologise on behalf of my son. He’s never had to clean his own room, and I’m afraid it’s left him a little clueless about exactly how much work it is. I’m sorry the burden will probably fall on you, Yukiho. I hope you’re ready!’

‘Oh, I’m ready.’

The two women went into the living room and began setting up a base of operations. Makoto listened to them chat for a bit, then went back over to the bay window and looked down at the road outside. The truck from the furniture store should be there any moment now. The people from the appliance shop would follow an hour later.

This is it, Makoto thought. In two weeks, he’d be the head of a household. It hadn’t really hit him until now, and he was surprised to find that he was a little nervous.

In the room behind him, Yukiho was on her knees in an apron, wiping the tatami mats. Even in work clothes, she was a beauty.

Four years, he thought. That was how long they’d been dating. They’d met in the college dance club: he a senior at Eimei University and she a new recruit from their sister school, Seika Girls College.

Of all the recruits that year, Yukiho had shone the brightest. With her face and proportions she would have been perfectly at home on the cover of a fashion magazine. The first time he laid eyes on her she stole his heart, though Makoto was only one of several boys with a thing for her. Though he wasn’t seeing anyone at the time, he had been reluctant to ask her out. She’d already turned down several of the other guys in the club, and he didn’t want to suffer the same fate.

He might never have got up the courage if Yukiho hadn’t come to him for help with her dancing – she was having trouble getting a certain step right. So it happened that he found himself with the perfect excuse to steal away time with the object of everyone’s desire.

It was not long after they started practising together that he began to think Yukiho might be interested in him, too. So one day he decided to ask her out for a date.

Yukiho had stared at him for a long time before saying, ‘Where did you have in mind?’

Resisting the urge to start dancing, he had said, ‘Wherever you like.’

They had gone out for dinner and a musical, and he saw her home afterwards. They had been dating now for four years.

And yet they might never have gone out in the first place if she hadn’t asked him to teach her that step, Makoto thought. If it had been another girl who’d asked him for help, he could be marrying her in two weeks’ time. There had been plenty of girls who’d caught his eye back in those days. Even Yukiho’s friend Eriko had left enough of an impression on him that he still remembered her name, although he hadn’t seen her since she quit halfway through her first year.

Fate is a curious thing, he thought.

‘So why’d you ring the intercom?’ Makoto asked Yukiho as she was wiping down the kitchen counter.

‘I didn’t want to just barge in,’ she replied, her hands never stopping their work.

‘Why not? That’s why I gave you a key.’

‘But we’re not married yet.’

‘I don’t think anyone’s keeping track of that.’

‘Yes, but if we didn’t observe these rules the occasion wouldn’t be so special,’ his mother chimed in with a smile at the bride-to-be.

Yukiho smiled back at the woman who would become her mother-in-law in two weeks’ time. Makoto sighed and looked back out of the window. His mother had liked Yukiho from the first time they met. It was another thread binding him together with Yukiho, he thought. All he had to do was follow these threads, and things would go well.

And yet another woman’s face was stuck in the back of his mind, where his bride’s should have been. He wasn’t thinking of her on purpose. In fact, he tried to forget her, but when he closed his eyes, there she was.

Makoto rubbed his temples and frowned when he heard a noise from the street outside.

The furniture had arrived.

At seven o’clock the following evening, Makoto was sitting at a café in Shinjuku Station.

At the next table over, two men were talking loudly in Osaka accents about baseball. The subject, of course, was the Hanshin Tigers and their unexpected transformation from a long period of being also-rans to contenders for this year’s title. Everyone in the western half of the country was excited. At Tozai, one of the section leads – apparently a closet Tigers supporter until now – had established a company fan club and was taking people out for celebratory drinks nearly every night after work. Makoto, himself a Giants fan through-and-through, sighed inwardly, realising that this commotion probably wouldn’t end any time soon.

Yet it was nice hearing Osaka accents again. After attending college in the city, he’d spent four years living by himself in an apartment in Senri, a suburb to the north of Osaka proper.

He’d just taken his second sip of coffee when the man he was waiting for appeared. He was decked out in a perfectly tailored grey suit: the quintessential businessman.

‘How does it feel to be saying goodbye to bachelor life?’ Kazunari Shinozuka asked, sitting down across from him. He ordered an espresso.

‘Sorry to call you out here like this,’ Makoto said.

‘No skin off my nose. Mondays are pretty light for me,’ he said, crossing his long legs.

The students who took ballroom dancing tended to come from respectable families. Kazunari’s family was in charge of a large pharmaceuticals company. His family home was in Kobe, but he had come up to Tokyo to work in the family company’s local branch.

‘I’m guessing you’re busier than I am,’ Kazunari said.

‘I guess. We just got our furniture and appliances delivered yesterday. I’m going to start sleeping there alone tonight.’

‘Ah, the nest is nearly complete! Now all you need is a bride.’

‘Her stuff arrives next Saturday.’

‘Well, congratulations,’ Kazunari said with a bright smile, ‘it’s finally happening.’

‘I guess so,’ said Makoto. He looked away and took another sip of coffee.

‘So what did you want to talk about? You sounded pretty serious on the phone yesterday. I got a little worried.’

‘Yeah, sorry about that.’

‘So what’s so important you couldn’t tell me over the phone? Having second thoughts about leaving the good bachelor life behind already?’ Kazunari laughed.

He’d meant it as a joke, but Makoto couldn’t smile. In a sense, Kazunari was right on the money.

Kazunari frowned and leaned forward. ‘Hey, now.’

Just then, the waitress arrived with his espresso. He sat back in his chair, but his eyes were still fixed on Makoto.

‘You’re kidding, right?’ He asked once she’d left again. He hadn’t even looked at his coffee.

‘Unfortunately, no.’ Makoto crossed his arms, returning his friend’s look.

Kazunari’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open a little. His eyes went around the café before looking back at Makoto. ‘It’s a little late to change your mind, don’t you think?’

‘Yeah, I know. I just worry I’m not ready.’

Kazunar’s expression froze. Then he slowly began to nod. ‘Don’t worry. I hear most guys feel like running when the day gets close and the responsibility really settles in. You’re not alone.’

Makoto shook his head. ‘It’s not that.’

‘Then what?’ Kazunari asked, and Makoto couldn’t meet his gaze this time.

He was afraid his friend would laugh if he told him the truth. And yet, if he couldn’t tell Kazunari, who could he tell? Makoto took a sip of water. ‘There’s someone else,’ he said.

Kazunari didn’t respond for a while. Nor did his expression change.

Makoto was about to repeat himself, when Kazunari asked, ‘Who?’ There was a hard look to his eyes.

‘Someone at work… for now.’

‘What do you mean “for now”?’ Kazunari asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Makoto explained about Chizuru Misawa.

‘And you’ve only seen her at work, never in private?’ Kazunari asked once Makoto had finished.

‘Of course. I can’t exactly ask her out on a date.’

‘No, you can’t. Which raises the question, how do you know how she feels about you?’

‘I don’t.’

‘Well then,’ Kazunari said, a light smile coming to his lips, ‘I advise you to forget about her. To me, it sounds like nerves.’

Makoto smiled at that. ‘I figured you’d say that. In fact, if I were in your place, I’d tell me the same thing.’

‘Yeah, sorry,’ Kazunari said. ‘I know you already know what this is. And I don’t mean to make light of your feelings. You were right to come to me.’

‘I understand that I’m being an idiot, yes.’

Kazunari took a sip of his espresso.

‘So when did this start?’ he asked.

‘When did what start, exactly?’

‘When did you start having feelings for her?’

‘Oh.’ Makoto thought for a moment before replying, ‘Around April of this year, I guess. Which would be the moment I first saw her.’

‘That’s already half a year ago, then. Why didn’t you do something about it earlier?’ There was a hint of irritation in Kazunari’s voice.

‘Do what, exactly? The wedding was already planned. And more than that, I didn’t trust my own feelings. Like you said, I thought it was just a fleeting thing. I told myself I needed to get rid of it, quick.’

‘But you couldn’t, and here we are,’ Kazunari said with a sigh. He scratched his head. His hair had a slight curl to it back in the student days, when it was longer, but now it was cut short. ‘This is quite the bomb to drop two weeks before the big day.’

‘I know, and I’m sorry. There was no one else I could talk to.’

‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ said Kazunari, but his frown remained unchanged. ‘As a practical matter, we still don’t know how this woman feels, do we. About you, I mean.’

‘No, we don’t.’

‘In which case, and this may be a strange thing to say, but the only problem here is how you feel.’

‘Exactly. And how I feel is, I’m not sure it’s right to get married feeling like this. I just can’t picture even going to the ceremony.’

‘I hear you.’ Kazunari sighed again. ‘What about Yukiho? How do you feel about her? You cooling off?’

‘No, that’s not it. I mean I still feel the same —’

‘The same less-than-a-hundred-per-cent, then?’

In lieu of responding, Makoto drained his glass of water.

‘I don’t want to say anything too outrageous, but your instincts are probably right. I can’t see how it would be best for either of you if you got married feeling the way you do now.’

‘So what would you do in my position?’ Makoto asked.

‘Avoid all women for at least a year before marriage.’

Makoto laughed quietly. He might have laughed louder at his friend’s dry sense of humour if the truth in what he said hadn’t been such a hard pill to swallow.

‘And yet, if my attentions did stray to another woman before I tied the knot…’ Kazunari let his eyes wander up towards the ceiling before he returned his gaze to Makoto. ‘I would call it off.’

‘Even two weeks before the wedding?’

‘Even on the day before.’

Makoto was silenced by the weight of what Kazunari was saying.

But his friend grinned. ‘Which I can only say because it’s not me in the hot seat. I know it’s not that easy. And there is the matter of exactly how strongly you feel about this other girl.’

Makoto nodded slowly. ‘Thanks, I think I get you.’

‘Everyone plays by their own rules,’ Kazunari said. ‘You come to your own decision. I won’t second-guess you either way.’

‘I’ll let you know when I know.’

Kazunari laughed. ‘You might want to make your mind up soon.’

The hand-drawn map led them to a spot right next to the Isetan department store in Shinjuku. There was a sign for a bar – the kind of place that had been there for decades – on the third floor.

‘I suppose we should be grateful they’re doing this, but they could’ve picked a trendier place,’ Akemi said, as they got on the elevator.

‘That’s what you get for letting a bunch of balding engineers throw you a party,’ said Chizuru.

‘I guess,’ Akemi said, frowning.

The bar door slid open automatically as they approached, letting a blast of noise out into the hall. It was still before seven, and yet the place was already overflowing with drunken revellers. A salaryman type was sitting just inside the door, his necktie hanging loose down his chest.

A voice from the back of the bar called to them. There were already a few tables full of familiar faces from the Patent Licensing Division, many of them already flushed with alcohol.

‘Remember: this is our party,’ Akemi whispered in Chizuru’s ear. ‘If they make us pour their beer for them, I’m kicking over the table and going home.’

Chizuru laughed, but she didn’t think that was how it was going to play out today. She had already spotted Makoto Takamiya at one of the tables.

There were the standard greetings and a toast. All part of the job, Chizuru thought, putting on her best smile. Part of her mind was already projecting forward to the end of the party. She knew from prior experience that even men who would never dream of coming on strong to a woman who worked at their own company acted differently towards temp workers – after all, they wouldn’t be around to cause any aftermath – and there were no women at the table today to keep things in line.

Makoto was sitting across and a little way down from them. He was already eating and had a glass of beer in front of him. Never the talkative sort, today he seemed to be in full listening mode.

Still, Chizuru kept sensing his eyes on her throughout the night. She thought she caught him looking away once or twice, but then again, maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her.

You’re being too self-conscious, Chizuru told herself.

Gradually the conversation came around to Akemi’s upcoming marriage.

‘I don’t know about having a kid at a time like this, with all that’s going on. That said, if I have a boy, I’m naming him Tiger after the Hanshin Tigers,’ Akemi said after she’d had a few drinks, making everyone laugh.

‘Isn’t Mr Takamiya getting married too?’ Chizuru said, trying to make her voice sound as natural as possible.

‘Er, eh, yes,’ Makoto said, seeming a little embarrassed, which set off another round of laughter.

‘The day after tomorrow!’ a man named Narita, who was sitting across from Chizuru chimed in, giving Makoto a clap on the shoulder. ‘If you’re going to make a move, better make it quick, because this bachelor’s going off the market!’

‘Congratulations,’ Chizuru said.

Makoto thanked her quietly.

‘Congratulations!’ Narita echoed loudly, his voice a little slurred. ‘Congratulations for proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that some guys get all the luck!’

Makoto gave a self-effacing laugh and said, ‘Well, that’s hardly true, but thanks all the same.’

‘Nope!’ Narita smiled and shook his head. ‘It’s completely true.’ He looked over at Chizuru. ‘Listen to this, Ms Misawa. This guy is two years younger than I am and he’s already got a home of his own. Should that even be legal?’

‘It’s not technically mine, and it’s not even a house.’

‘Objection!’ Flecks of spittle came out of Narita’s grinning mouth. ‘I said “home”, not “house”, and I think an apartment you live in without paying rent counts as a home of your own.’

Makoto sighed. ‘It’s in my mother’s name. She’s just letting me live there. So, technically, we’re squatting.’

‘See, his mommy owns an apartment! If that’s not luck, I don’t know what is.’ Narita looked to Chizuru for some sign she agreed, while filling his own cup back up to the brim with sake. He tossed it back and kept talking. ‘Now when you say someone owns an apartment, you usually think a little two-room, three-room place, right? But not when it comes to this guy’s family. They own the entire building!’

‘Enough, already,’ Makoto said. He was still smiling, but it was clear to everyone but Narita that his patience for the conversation was already wearing thin.

‘No, I’m definitely putting my foot down. Especially when you consider that his bride-to-be is practically a beauty queen.’

‘Narita!’ Makoto frowned. He picked up the bottle of sake and topped off the man’s glass in an attempt to silence him.

‘Is she that pretty?’ Chizuru asked.

‘Oh, gorgeous,’ Narita said. ‘Could be an actress, no problem. And she does tea and flower arrangement too, right?’

‘A bit,’ Makoto admitted.

‘See what I mean? Speaks English too, fluently. Damn, man, what’s with all your good luck?’

‘Easy there,’ said the section chief at the end of the table. ‘There’s plenty of luck to go around. You’ll get yours soon enough, Narita.’

‘Yeah? I’d like to know when.’

The section chief nodded sagely. ‘Middle of next century, at the latest.’

‘That’s over fifty years from now! I don’t need luck when I’m dead!’

Chizuru joined in the laughter, glancing towards Makoto. For a moment, their eyes met. Something in his eyes made it look like he was trying to tell her something – or I’m overthinking things again.

The farewell party ended at nine o’clock. As the group began shuffling out of the door, Chizuru called Makoto over. ‘I brought you a gift, for your wedding.’ She pulled a thin, wrapped package out of her bag. ‘I was going to give it to you at work today, but I never found the time.’

‘Oh, you didn’t have to do that,’ he said, opening the package to reveal a blue handkerchief. ‘Thanks, this is really special.’

‘Thank you for the last six months,’ she said, giving a little bow.

‘I didn’t do anything to earn that, but you’re welcome. Where are you off to next?’

‘I’m going to go home, take it easy for a while. I’ll be leaving for Sapporo the day after tomorrow – your big day, in fact.’

‘Oh,’ he said, nodding as he put the handkerchief back inside the wrapper and slid it into his jacket pocket.

‘Your wedding’s going to be at that hotel in Akasaka, right? I’d come to watch through the window, but I think I’ll have to settle for waving from the train instead.’

‘You heading out early?’

‘Yes, I’m staying at a hotel in Shinagawa tomorrow night, so I can get going first thing.’

‘Which hotel?’

‘The Parkside.’

Makoto looked like he wanted to say something, but he was interrupted by a voice from the elevator. ‘What’s taking you two so long? Everyone’s downstairs already.’

Makoto smiled and turned towards the door. Chizuru followed behind him, like she had on so many tea breaks over the last six months. Like she never would again.

Makoto went home that night to the family home in Seijo. Once he officially moved out, only his mother and her parents – his grandparents – would be living there. It was his mother’s side of the family that owned all the land. His late father had moved in with them, and even taken his mother’s family name of Takamiya.

‘Only one more day!’ his mother announced cheerily when he arrived. ‘Tomorrow will be busy. I have to go to the hairdresser’s, and pick up some jewellery I had on order. I expect everyone up bright and early!’ She spread a newspaper over the antique dining room table and began to peel an apple over it.

Makoto sat across from her, pretending to read a magazine with one eye on the clock. Eleven, he thought. That’s when I need to call.

‘Makoto’s the one getting married,’ his grandfather said from where he sat on the sofa. ‘I don’t see why you have to get all dressed up.’ A chessboard was laid out in front of him, and he cradled a pipe in his left hand. He was already over eighty years old, but he walked with a straight back, and his voice still had a ring to it.

‘I disagree. This will be my only chance to attend my own child’s wedding. I think I should be allowed to dress up for the occasion, don’t you?’

Her last ‘don’t you’ was directed towards Makoto’s grandmother, who was sitting across from her husband, working on her knitting. She just smiled and said nothing.

His grandfather’s chessboard, his grandmother’s knitting, and his mother’s cheerful prattle – this was family life as Makoto had known it since he was a child. He loved that even tonight, two days before his wedding, it was no different. The house never seemed to change, nor did the people inside it.

‘To see my own grandchild getting married makes me feel ancient,’ his grandfather noted, thoughtfully.

‘It still feels a little early to me,’ his mother said. ‘You’re both so young, though I suppose you’ve been together for four years now and there wouldn’t be any difference if you waited longer.’

‘And this girl, Yukiho. She’s a good one. I’m happy for you,’ said his grandmother.

‘Yes, a good girl. Good head on her shoulders,’ his grandfather agreed. ‘Very solid for someone so young.’

‘I liked her from the moment Makoto brought her home. Girls with a proper upbringing are just different,’ said his mother, arranging apple slices in a bowl.

Makoto thought back to the first time he had brought Yukiho home to meet his family. His mother had been taken first by her looks, and second by the fact that she lived with an adopted mother. She empathised with that, and when she learned that the foster mother had taught Yukiho not only how to keep house but the tea ceremony and flower arrangement as well, her opinion of her had only grown.

Makoto ate two of the apple slices, then stood. It was almost eleven. ‘I’m going upstairs.’

‘Don’t forget, we’re having dinner with Yukiho tomorrow night,’ his mother said.

‘Dinner?’

‘Yukiho and her mother are staying at the hotel tomorrow, so I phoned them and asked if they’d like to eat together.’

‘You can’t just decide these things on your own,’ Makoto said, surprised at the sharpness in his voice.

‘You had other plans? You were going to meet Yukiho tomorrow night anyway, weren’t you?’

‘What time?’

‘I reserved a table at the restaurant at seven. The French place in that hotel is quite famous, you know.’

Makoto left the living room in silence. He climbed the stairs and made for his own room. Other than the clothes he had bought recently, nearly all of his possessions were still here in this room. He sat down in front of the desk he’d used since coming home from college and picked up the phone lying on top of it. It was his own private line, and they still kept it connected.

He checked the list of numbers on the wall and started dialling. Kazunari picked up after two rings.

‘Hello?’ He sounded disgruntled. He’d probably been in the middle of a relaxing evening listening to classical music in his room. Kazunari lived alone in an apartment in Yotsuya, right in the middle of Tokyo.

‘Hey, it’s me.’

‘Hey.’ Kazunari’s tone lightened a little. ‘What’s up?’

‘Can we talk?’

‘Go ahead.’

‘OK, this is kind of big, and I’m guessing it’s going to come as a bit of a shock. Just promise you won’t freak out.’

He was pretty sure Kazunari had already guessed what he was about to say, but there was silence from the other end of the line. Makoto listened to the hiss of the telephone line in his ear. The noise had been steadily getting worse over the past few months. Sometimes it was so bad he couldn’t hear who he was talking to.

‘This about what we talked about the other day?’ Kazunari finally said.

‘Yeah.’

‘Oy.’ Makoto heard him laughing, though it didn’t sound like he was smiling. ‘You’re wedding’s in two days, isn’t it?’

‘You said you’d call it off the day before if you had to.’

‘I did say that,’ Kazunari said, breathing a little loudly into the phone. ‘You serious?’

‘I am.’ Makoto swallowed and said, ‘I’m gonna tell her how I feel tomorrow.’

‘And by her, you mean this temp worker? Chizuru, was it?’

‘Yeah.’

‘So you tell her how you feel, then what? You going to propose?’

‘I haven’t thought it through that far. I just want her to know how I feel… and I want to know how she feels. That’s all.’

‘What if she doesn’t feel anything at all?’

‘Then at least I’ll know.’

‘You mean you’ll go marry Yukiho the next day, like nothing ever happened?’

‘Not the most upstanding thing I’ve ever done, I know.’

‘Nah,’ Kazunari said, ‘I think you gotta do what you gotta do. What’s important is that you don’t leave any regrets.’

‘I’m glad to hear you say that.’

‘The problem,’ Kazunari went on, ‘is what to do if she says she likes you too.’

‘Well —’

‘Think you can just throw it all away?’

‘I can.’

He heard Kazunari breathing on the other end of the line.

‘That’s going to be harder than you might think, Makoto. You’re going to be putting a lot of people through a lot of hell, and you’re going to hurt a few of them. Most of all Yukiho.’

‘I’ll make it up to her. I’ll do whatever I have to.’

They were both silent for a while, with just the crackling hiss of the telephone line between them.

‘Well, sounds like you’ve made up your mind. I’ve got nothing to say.’

‘Sorry to put you through this, man.’

‘Don’t worry about me. I’m just wondering what the day after tomorrow is going to be like. Gives me goosebumps.’

‘Yeah, I’m nervous too.’

‘I bet you are.’

‘On that note, I need to ask a favour of you. Are you free tomorrow night?’

The day that would decide his fate dawned cloudy. After eating a late breakfast, Makoto had gone to his room and sat staring at the sky. He hadn’t been able to sleep very well, and his head was pounding.

Makoto had been racking his brains for a way to get in touch with Chizuru. He knew she was staying in a hotel in Shinagawa that night. If it came to it, he could try seeing her there, but if at all possible he wanted to meet her during the day and lay it out.

Yet he’d never seen her outside the office, so he didn’t know her address or phone number. Their company didn’t keep records of that information for temp workers in the usual places, either. His section chief or division chief might know, but he wasn’t sure how he could ask them. That, and it was a Saturday. There wasn’t any guarantee they’d have her contact information at home.

There was only one route left to him. He would have to go to work and try to find her contact information there somehow. It was a Saturday, but there were doubtless some people there over the weekend. No one would look twice at him for coming to work to find some things.

Makoto stood from his chair, ready to go, when the doorbell rang. A bad premonition made his heart beat faster, and a minute later, his fears were confirmed when he heard the sound of his mother’s felt slippers coming up the steps.

‘Makoto,’ he heard her say from the other side of the door. ‘Yukiho’s here.’

‘Be right there.’

He went down to find his fiancée in the living room, having tea with his grandparents. She was wearing a dark brown dress.

‘Yukiho brought some cakes. Would you like one?’ his mother asked. She seemed to be in an unusually cheerful mood.

‘I’m fine. What’s up?’ he asked, turning to Yukiho.

‘There are some things I needed to buy for the honeymoon. I thought you might like to come with me,’ she said in a cheery sing-song. Her almond-shaped eyes glittered like two jewels. She had the look of a bride, and it sent a sliver of pain through Makoto’s chest.

‘Right, well, hmm. I was going to drop by the office.’

‘The office? Today?’ His mother frowned, wrinkles forming between her brows. ‘I can’t believe they make you come in to work on the day before your wedding.’

‘It’s not work, exactly. There were just some things I want to take a look at.’

‘We could go on the way,’ Yukiho said. ‘Didn’t you say that people from outside the company were allowed to visit on weekends?’

‘Well, that’s true, but —’ Internally, Makoto was panicking. Her offer to come along had caught him by surprise.

‘Always the company man,’ his mother said, frowning. ‘What’s more important? Your family or your job?’

‘Fine, fine, you know, it’s really not that important, I’ll just put off going today.’

‘I don’t mind, honestly,’ Yukiho said.

‘No, it’s OK. Really,’ Makoto smiled at his betrothed. The confession to Chizuru would have to come that night, at the hotel.

He had Yukiho wait while he got changed and went up to his room. He fished a jacket out of his dresser and phoned Kazunari. ‘It’s me,’ he said as soon as his friend picked up. ‘Remember that back-up plan we discussed?’

‘No dice on the contact info, huh?’

‘Unfortunately no. And now I have to go shopping with Yukiho.’

He heard Kazunari sigh on the other side of the line.

‘I’m really sorry to put you through this.’

‘Hey, man, it’s fine. OK. Nine o’clock.’

‘See you then.’

He hung up the phone, got changed, and opened the door to find Yukiho standing in the hallway. She had her hands behind her back and was leaning up against the wall, looking at him with a curious smile on her lips.

‘I came to see what was taking so long,’ she said.

‘Sorry, I was picking out my clothes. You coming?’ He walked past her and started down the stairs.

‘What’s the back-up plan?’

Makoto almost missed a step. ‘Oh, you were listening?’

‘Well, I overheard.’

‘It’s nothing, just work,’ he said, continuing down the stairs. He was afraid of what she might ask next, but no further questions came.

They went shopping in Ginza, hitting all the famous department stores and a few high-end boutiques.

She’d claimed she needed to buy things for travel, but to Makoto it didn’t look as though Yukiho was intending to buy anything. When he pointed it out, she shrugged and smiled. ‘To tell you the truth, I just wanted to spend some time together. You know, a date on our last day as an unmarried couple. Nothing wrong with that, is there?’

Makoto sighed. There was something wrong with it, but nothing he could tell her.

He watched Yukiho window-shop, and thought back on the last four years. It was true that he’d stayed with her because he loved her. But he couldn’t pin down a particular reason for deciding to marry her. Was it because of the depths of his affection for her?

Makoto thought that, unfortunately, that probably wasn’t the case. He’d only first seriously considered marriage two years earlier, on a morning when Yukiho called him from a small business hotel in the city.

When he got there she was waiting for him with a look on her face more serious than he’d ever seen before.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. ‘And why are you staying at this place?’

She let him into the room and pointed towards the table without saying a word. There was a clear tube there, about half a cigarette in length. It was filled with a small amount of liquid. ‘Don’t touch it, look at it from the top,’ she said.

Makoto looked, and saw two red circles on the bottom of the tube. He reported this to Yukiho, and she thrust out a piece of paper to him.

It was the instructions for a pregnancy test. Two circles meant positive.

‘It says I’m supposed to check with my first pee after I wake up in the morning. I’m staying here because I wanted you to see.’

Makoto must have frowned, because she added in a bright voice, ‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to demand we have it or anything. And I can go to the hospital by myself.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course. We’re not ready to have a kid.’

A wave of relief had washed over him when he heard her say that. He’d never even imagined being a father before that moment, and he certainly didn’t feel ready.

True to her word, Yukiho went to the hospital by herself and had an abortion. No one was told. He didn’t see her for a week, but when he did, she was the same old Yukiho. She never spoke about it again. He tried to bring the subject up once or twice, but each time, she would seem to sense it before he spoke, and shake her head no.

‘It’s OK. We don’t need to talk about it.’

This event marked the time when he began to seriously contemplate marriage. If they’d slipped up once, they could slip up again. Taking responsibility for her, legally, was taking responsibility as a man. It had all seemed very important at the time, but now, looking back, he wondered if he hadn’t made the biggest decision of his life for the wrong reasons.

Makoto pretended to drink his coffee while he kept an eye on his watch. It was a little after nine.

The two families, his and Yukiho’s, had been eating since seven, though much of that time had been passed listening to his mother talk. Yukiho’s adoptive mother Reiko Karasawa was an elegant woman, with intellectual substance. She smiled warmly and was a good listener. It pained Makoto to think he might be betraying her the next morning.

It was nine-fifteen when they left the restaurant. His mother made the suggestion he thought she would – it was still early, why didn’t they all go out to a bar?

‘I’m sure the bars are all crowded,’ Makoto said. ‘Let’s go to the lounge on the first floor.’

Reiko said that sounded pleasant. She wasn’t much of a drinker.

They took the lift down to the first floor and headed for the lounge. Makoto checked his watch. Nine-twenty.

Just as they were heading into the lounge, a voice called out ‘Makoto,’ from behind them. Makoto turned and saw Kazunari walking over.

‘Hey!’ Makoto said, feigning surprise.

Kazunari stepped up close to him and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘You were so late, I thought you’d called the whole thing off,’ he whispered.

‘Dinner ran long,’ Makoto whispered back.

They pretended to say a few more things, then went back to Yukiho and the others. ‘Some people from Eimei University are getting together nearby,’ Makoto announced. ‘I’m going to go say hi.’

‘You have to go? On tonight of all nights?’ his mother said, a displeased look on her face.

Reiko came to his rescue. ‘Why not? It’s important for a man to spend time with his friends.’

Makoto smiled at her.

‘Don’t stay out too late,’ Yukiho said, watching his eyes.

Out of the lounge, Makoto fled the hotel with Kazunari, who had his favourite Porsche parked out front.

‘If we get caught for speeding, the ticket’s on you,’ said Kazunari as he took off.

Parkside Hotel was a five-minute walk from Shinagawa Station. Makoto got out of Kazunari’s Porsche at the front entrance to the hotel just a little before ten o’clock.

He went straight to the front desk and asked whether they had a guest by the name of Chizuru Misawa. The man, with his hair perfectly cut, said politely that she did have a reservation. ‘But,’ he added, ‘Ms Misawa has yet to check in. She was supposed to be here by nine.’

Makoto thanked him and walked away from the front desk. He looked around the lobby, found a sofa in view of the front desk, and sat down.

‘She’s going to be here any moment,’ he whispered to himself, and the thought made his heart beat faster.

Chizuru arrived at Shinagawa station at ten minutes to ten. It had taken her much longer to clean up her place and pack than she’d expected. She crossed the crosswalk in front of the station through a crowd of people as she headed towards the hotel.

The main entrance to the Parkside was along the road, but in order to go in you had to first walk through a garden in the front. Heavy bags in her hands, Chizuru made her way along the winding walkway. Small spotlights illuminated the flowers in the neatly kept beds on either side of the path, but she wasn’t in the mood to stop and appreciate them.

Beyond the garden, taxis were pulling in one after the other, dropping off guests. Chizuru reflected that most people coming to a hotel like this would be coming by car. Not even the porters were looking out for pedestrians like her.

Which was why she was surprised when a voice called out, ‘Excuse me, miss?’ from behind her just as she was nearing the doors to the main lobby.

She turned and saw a young man in a dark suit. ‘I’m sorry, but are you on your way to check in?’ he asked.

‘I am,’ she said warily.

‘I’m with the police,’ he said, flashing her a badge on the inside of his jacket. ‘I was hoping we could talk. I have a request for you, actually.’

‘Me?’ Chizuru gaped.

The man beckoned her to follow him into the garden. Shrugging, she followed him.

‘Are you staying here alone tonight?’ he asked.

‘Yes. What’s this about?’

‘I was wondering, is it absolutely necessary you have to stay at this particular hotel?’

‘Well, I have a reservation here, and I’m taking a train early tomorrow morning, so I need to be near the station.’

‘Of course. If I could get you a room at the hotel just behind this one, would that work? It’s closer to the station.’

‘I’m still not sure why you’re asking me this.’

‘A suspect in the case we’re working on is staying at this hotel tonight. We need to keep an eye on him and, unfortunately, a large group has just checked in, and we can’t get a room to use for our investigation.’

‘So you need my room?’

‘That’s right,’ the man said. ‘It’s difficult for us to switch with a customer who’s already checked in, and we don’t want to risk tipping off the person we’re watching.’

‘I see, I guess,’ she said, looking the detective over. He seemed very young. Maybe a new recruit. But his suit was well pressed, and she got the impression he was very serious about his request.

‘If you’re willing to help, we’ll pay for your stay and give you a lift to your hotel,’ he said. She thought she detected a hint of an Osaka accent in his words.

‘By the hotel behind this one, you mean the Queen?’ Chizuru asked. It was at least one rank above the Parkside.

‘Yes, we have a forty-thousand-yen room there,’ he said.

There’s no way I could ever afford a room like that, she thought. Her mind was made up. ‘Then what are we waiting for?’

‘Thanks so much. Here, I’ll take those,’ he said, reaching out for her luggage.

It was already past ten-thirty and Chizuru was nowhere in sight.

Makoto had picked up a newspaper somebody left behind to read, but he kept one eye on the front desk. The desire to see her face had already overtaken his desire to confess as quickly as he could. He’d been here more than half an hour and his pulse was still racing.

A woman walked up to the front desk. For a second his heart jumped, but then he saw her face and his eyes went down to the floor.

‘I don’t have a reservation, but do you have any rooms?’ he overheard her say.

‘Just one?’ the man at the front desk asked.

‘Yes, please.’

‘How about a single room?’

‘That’ll be fine.’

‘We can get that for you. We have a standard room for twelve thousand yen, a room overlooking the pool for fifteen thousand, and a room for eighteen thousand with a nice view of the skyline. Do you have a preference?’

‘Oh, the standard is fine.’

Makoto quickly lost interest in the conversation. He glanced towards the door then back at his newspaper. He read the words but his mind was elsewhere. Only one article held his interest for more than a few seconds: a story about members of the Japanese Communist Party having their phones tapped by the police. It had sparked a debate about invasion of privacy and the legality of wiretapping. The politics didn’t interest Makoto; what caught his attention was how the wiretapping was discovered.

Apparently the owner of the tapped phone line had contacted the phone company because there was a lot of noise on the line and occasionally the volume of calls would drop so dramatically he couldn’t hear who they were talking to.

I hope my phone back home isn’t tapped, he thought, chuckling to himself. It certainly had the same symptoms. Not that anyone had anything to gain by tapping his phone.

He was folding the newspaper when the man from the front desk walked over.

‘You were waiting for Ms Misawa?’ he asked.

‘Yes?’ Makoto said, half standing from his chair.

‘We just had a phone call. She’s cancelled her reservation.’

‘What?’ Makoto felt his skin grow hot. ‘Where is she?’

‘I’m afraid he didn’t say,’ the man shook his head.’

‘He?’

‘Yes, sir,’ the man nodded.

Makoto began walking towards the front door. He didn’t know what to do. The only thing that was clear was that waiting here wouldn’t do him any good. He walked out the front doors, and got into the first taxi in line.

In the cab on the way back to Seijo, Makoto started to laugh. Clearly it wasn’t meant to be, he thought. Maybe she caught an earlier train. Maybe the guy who called was her fiancé and Makoto never had a chance in the first place. Either way, it felt bigger than coincidence. It felt like destiny.

But thinking back on it, no supernatural power had been required to keep him apart from Chizuru. He’d had plenty of chances to confess how he felt and let every one of them slip by.

He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat off his brow. He looked down at it as he put it back in his pocket. It was the blue handkerchief Chizuru had given to him. Then he closed his eyes and thought about what he needed to do to prepare for the ceremony and reception tomorrow. When the cab driver woke him, they were outside his home.