#84: Turning Point / ep.3
A few days earlier.
The events of the day Rinko left Tokyo.
After quitting her position as Kotone’s manager and fleeing the Yokohama flat, Rinko did not head straight back to her family home in Hamamatsu. She had made it as far as Shin-Yokohama, only to accidentally miss the last Hikari Shinkansen.
She could have wandered around Shin-Yokohama until morning, but the anger that had risen to boiling point showed no sign of cooling. If you hated Kotone, apparently you had to hate Yokohama-hama as well.
Rinko fled Yokohama and checked into a hotel near Tokyo Station, where she could catch the first Shinkansen in the morning.
“You think someone like you, a sex worker, doesn’t deserve to have an actress as your girlfriend, don’t you?”
“Are you saying I’m holding back from sleeping with Kotone because I’m a sex worker who gets looked down on by society?”
“Am I wrong?”
The conversation in Yokohama echoed through Rinko’s mind.
Kotone had deliberately said something tactless. She had probably been trying to win Rinko over through the underhanded tactic of putting her down first, then showering her with praise. The smug expression on Kotone’s face as she declared that her own love was strong enough not to care whether Rinko was “dirty” made that obvious.
“What do you mean, you don’t care that I’m a sex worker? If you really didn’t care, you wouldn’t have said something like that.”
In the end, Kotone had simply misread the situation.
Rinko had been insulted by Kotone.
And the moment she realised that Kotone, of all people, had looked at her through the same prejudices as everyone else, her anger had erupted.
“Why do I have to feel like this?”
But anger was no longer what controlled Rinko.
“…Stupid Kotone.”
Her muttered words suddenly echoed around the room of the cheap business hotel where she had managed to find a bargain.
She collapsed face-first onto the bed and fell asleep without even changing clothes, let alone removing her make-up.
The next morning, she had intended to catch the first Shinkansen home.
But she did not want to move.
The only place she could return to now was her family home.
But Kaya was there.
She did not want to see her.
She could not return to the flat in Shin-Yokohama, and she did not want to.
Then what? Keep paying for hotels? A manga café? Ask manager Ayuru to let her stay for a few days?
Her head filled with possibilities for what to do next.
She found herself imagining how easy it would be if she could simply be swallowed up by the hard mattress and disappear, something that could never happen, and could do nothing but watch the digital clock tick away.
“That’s enough. I’m going home.”
Eventually, even worrying became exhausting, and she finally decided to take the cheapest option.
She had savings, but no job.
In that case, her immediate priority had to be preserving her cash.
She left in the clothes she stood in, without changing or putting on make-up. Dragging along the unopened suitcase she had packed in Yokohama and her bag, she made her way towards Tokyo Station with heavy steps.
She did not even have the energy to eat.
Hunched over, looking down so nobody could see her face, she decided she would not make eye contact with anyone for the rest of the day.
And then, of all people, someone she never expected spotted her.
“Hehe. Just as I predicted.”
The voice was as beautiful as a tinkling bell, yet somehow infuriating enough to make Rinko want to scream.
She was dressed in something resembling loungewear, her blonde hair sticking up from bedhead, and the skin around her eyes was completely bare, with no make-up or mask to conceal it. Her eyes curved like a bow moon as she smiled, but it was obvious at a glance that she had hurried all the way here.
“Why are you here…?”
“Would you like to hear my deduction? Why did I predict that Rinko-san would be here at this time, in this place, getting on a downbound Tokaido Shinkansen to Hamamatsu?”
“I don’t care. Even if you explain it, I won’t be able to take it in.”
“Oh, what a shame.”
She smiled without looking remotely disappointed and took hold of the handle of Rinko’s suitcase.
Rinko tensed, wondering if Shandy intended to steal her luggage and keep her from leaving, but—
“I’m not going to stop you from leaving. As you know, I used to work in hotels.”
Apparently, Shandy had decided to play porter.
Rinko ignored her and went through the ticket gates. Shandy followed behind, carrying the suitcase and paper bag.
Was she planning to accompany Rinko all the way to Hamamatsu at this rate?
The frightening thing about the woman smiling beside her was that Rinko could not even say such a thing was impossible.
Even so, having Shandy there might make things a little easier.
The Shirai household was a two-generation home shared by Rinko’s parents and her elder brother and his wife.
Her brother and sister-in-law had a healthy, bright daughter, and on holidays the family of five would go strawberry picking together, or leave their daughter with her grandparents while the married couple enjoyed some time alone.
They were a close family.
Everyone except Rinko.
That was why whenever her mother or brother called from home, the voices of their happy family inevitably seeped into the conversation.
They sounded so happy.
It was something to be happy about. Something to celebrate.
And yet—
Every time she heard them, Rinko felt as though concrete were being poured into her ears, leaving her with an oppressive darkness.
So if the contrary-minded Shandy could stir up that picture-perfect Shirai family happiness…
“Ah, no. I’m thinking some really awful thoughts…”
“So even you think about things, Rinko-san?”
“I’ll kill you…”
“You’re short on calcium. Shall I treat you to a Peach Lady?”
“What did you come here for?”
“To say goodbye. It’s a heroine’s duty to send off her love rival when she leaves the stage.”
The paper bag contained a farewell gift: waffle sandwiches.
As Shandy handed them over, her amber eyes curved gently like a crescent moon.
It was the smile of someone concealing her true intentions, covering them with a carefully arranged superficial expression.
Taken literally, Shandy had come all the way to Tokyo Station for nothing more than a spiteful parting shot.
One hundred percent sarcasm, and a declaration of victory.
It was exactly the sort of thing a bored, capricious, nasty woman might do.
“You’re not bored enough to come all the way to Tokyo Station just to make fun of me.”
“If it meant I could annoy you, I’d go all the way to Brazil.”
“Oh, enough with your usual contrarian act. I missed the last Hikari shinkansen.”
“An omen of your hopeless future, with not even a single glimmer of hikari, a ray of light, to be seen?”
“Whatever. If you have something to say, spit it out.”
“Boo. I thought that was rather clever.”
“You left out Kodama1. It wasn’t clever.”
With Shandy puffing out her cheeks, Rinko was led to a bench in the waiting room, where social distancing was being strictly enforced.
With people being urged not to travel, the waiting room and platforms were almost deserted.
Only passengers with a very good reason were waiting for a downbound Shinkansen.
Rinko suspected that, compared with everyone else there, her own reason was probably the most trivial.
She watched a miserable salaryman huddling in the corner of the waiting room.
Shandy returned carrying two bottles of tea, one in each hand, and sat down beside her.
“Speaking of Hikari. Do you know the proverb it’s dark beneath the lighthouse?”2
The moment Rinko heard the word lighthouse, her face flashed through her mind.
“Don’t you start talking about lighthouses too.”
“All right. In English, you might say, ‘It’s hard to see what is under your nose.’”
Talking with Shandy always required too much thought.
Rinko wanted to snap at her whenever she could not figure out what she was getting at, but she did not even have the energy for that anymore.
All that escaped her was a flat question.
“What…”
“You’re not failing to notice because it’s close to you. You’ve noticed it already, and you’re deliberately ignoring it. Kotone-san’s feelings for you.”
It felt as though a blade had been placed against the back of her neck.
Terrified that Shandy had touched upon something Rinko did not want exposed, she hurriedly began listing her reasons.
“That’s because she’s my oshi. I can’t fall in love with Kotone because she’s my oshi.”
“That logic doesn’t hold up. Kotone-san is genuinely serious about you. She wanted to keep you by her side badly enough to accept even that absurd condition.”
“…I know that much.”
“Oh? So it’s Rinko-san who’s being contrary after all?”
“I told you, that’s not it!”
Rinko turned each thought over in her head, translating it into words one by one.
“I’m Kotone’s fan. Because I’m her fan, I can’t get close to her. I mustn’t get close to her. If a scandal comes out saying she’s dating me, Kotone’s career will be over!”
Rinko might still have been proud of her previous work, but society would certainly have hurled its prejudiced cold wind at her.
If that prejudice was directed at her, so be it.
But Kotone was different.
An actress dating an ordinary woman who worked in the sex industry?
There could hardly be a bigger scandal to set the media and public imagination ablaze.
Rinko could not bear the thought of her beloved oshi being stared at as some kind of spectacle because of her, or, at worst, being frozen out of the industry.
“So you want her not to recognise your feelings? Because if Kotone-san is to continue working as an actress, your feelings for her are a hindrance, so you want her to forget them?”
“Yes.”
“And one more thing. To protect Kotone-san, you’re willing to kill your own feelings?”
“…………”
Rinko ignored the implication and remained silent.
After a pause, she finally spoke.
“You know, I’m happy being one of the countless nameless fans. If Kotone is a magnificent flower, I’m the nourishment. If Kotone is a car, I’m a drop of petrol. In the long-running story called Kurosu Kotone, I’m just a minor character who appears for a moment and whose absence changes nothing. That’s my happiness.”
“Is it really happiness if you have to tell yourself that?”
“Yes. It is. Dating an actress is impossible, isn’t it? There’s only so far above my station I can reach. And with Kotone’s flighty personality, she’d probably have no problem cheating or committing adultery. If I’m going to marry someone, I want someone down-to-earth, boring, and serious. Someone steady. A celebrity like Kotone, with all her ups and downs, is impossible for me.”
She opened the bottle of tea Shandy had handed her and took a sip, the corners of her mouth relaxing weakly.
“Finding someone I seriously wanted to protect, then competing with a former actress over that person. Breaking up with her, only to start living with my number-one oshi, an actress. It was hard, but now I think… for a minor character like me, it was an absurdly extravagant script. I hope it becomes a good memory. What do you think, Charlotte, the former actress… no, Akutagawa Alice?”
Shandy’s amber eyes were filled with shock.
Her pupils were opened wide like a full moon, and beneath the black mask that suited her strangely well, Rinko could see the faint movement of her lips.
“…The worst script imaginable. Nobody wants to watch a story where the protagonist gives up and runs away without ever standing up to what’s in front of her.”
Rinko took a breath before replying to Shandy’s particularly harsh review.
It was all she could do to keep her voice from trembling.
“I’m satisfied. I can make Kotone shine. It’s a noble sacrifice.”
Shandy, sitting one seat away, was trembling.
A drop fell from the side of her face, hidden beneath her hair, landing on the floor of the waiting room.
“Why are you crying? I’m the one who’s suffering here…”
Shandy silently shed tears, softly sniffling.
Fortunately, the waiting room was deserted.
The only other person was the salaryman sitting some distance away, engrossed in his smartphone while preparing documents on his laptop. There was no chance the conversation between the two women had even registered at the edge of his awareness.
With no other choice, Rinko lent Shandy her shoulder.
She decided not to think about why Shandy was crying.
No.
There was no need to think about it.
She already knew.
“…You’re crying in my place, aren’t you? You’re such a calculating, calculatingly cute, hateful woman. I absolutely hate you.”
Shandy said nothing.
She did not even shake her head. She simply trembled quietly.
So Rinko said nothing more either, and held the slender shoulder that was crying in her place.
There was someone who would cry because they empathised with her.
Someone who would cry so that Rinko herself would not have to.
She was deeply grateful for that.
“Well, I’m going now.”
Because of Shandy, Rinko had already missed two Shinkansen she had intended to catch.
Shandy had certainly succeeded in keeping her there, but Rinko could not stay any longer.
If she did, Kotone might realise what was happening.
Rinko took back her suitcase and the paper bag containing her farewell gift and stood up.
Even Shandy did not try to follow her this time.
She did not get up from the bench either, unusually silent, as though searching for the right words.
“Thanks for the snacks. You can see me off here. Take care on the way home.”
“…Wait.”
Someone had caught hold of the hem of her clothes.
“All right, I’ll listen. What’s the final sermon?”
Shandy told her.
“I’ll teach you a sure-fire way to be honest with yourself. A pink-hued Game of love, befitting the fragrance you wear.”