As Terauchi was identifying the body, thirty kilometers away in Kurume, Yoshino’s father, Yoshio, was in his house after a late lunch, lying down, using his zabuton seat cushion as a pillow.

From where he lay he could see into the darkened barbershop, closed as always on Mondays. With the lights out inside, the sunlight shone through the window at the front of the shop, projecting the name Ishibashi Barbershop, painted in white on the window, as a shadow on the floor.

Yoshio had taken over the business from his father around the time that Yoshino was born. Up until then, he’d mainly hung out with his delinquent friends from the band, living off the money he’d pestered his parents to give him, but at his wife’s urging he started training at the barbershop. The year Yoshino started elementary school, his father died of a cerebral hemorrhage. His mother had passed away ten years before, so Yoshio, his wife, and their daughter moved from their apartment into the vacant family house. Yoshio sometimes wondered how his life would have worked out if Satoko hadn’t become pregnant so early, but it was just a random thought. He couldn’t picture any other life. But truthfully Yoshio had always hated his father’s profession. He’d taken over the family business reluctantly. It was a profession he took on for his daughter, but Yoshio had started to sense the instinctive dislike Yoshino had for her father’s work.

As Yoshio gazed vacantly around the dark shop, Satoko called out to him from the kitchen. “You think she’s coming back?” Apparently one of Yoshino’s colleagues had called in the afternoon saying she was.

“I bet she’ll ask us to introduce her to somebody she can sell insurance to…”

Yoshio had nothing else to do today, so he thought he’d ride his bike over to the station to meet her, though he knew she wouldn’t be happy about it.

Yoshio was half dozing when the call came from the police. As if in a dream he heard Satoko say, “Yes. Yes. That’s right. Yes, that’s correct.” She called out, “Honey!” and he snapped awake. Her voice sounded far away, but echoed nearby in the tiny house.

He rolled over and saw Satoko looming over him as if she were going to trample him, her hand cupped over the phone.

“Honey… I, I don’t know what it’s all about… It’s the police…”

Yoshio sat up. Satoko’s hand was shaking as she held the cordless phone.

“What do they want?” Yoshio asked, leaning away from the phone.

“You ask them… I don’t know what they’re talking about…”

Satoko’s eyes were out of focus, her face drained of blood.

Yoshio grabbed the phone from her and shouted an angry hello.

It was a woman’s voice on the phone-slightly unprofessional, small and hard to hear. The cordless phone was always full of static and Yoshio couldn’t get used to it. “That’s normal. It’s just the signal,” Yoshino had explained, and Yoshio had been putting up with it for nearly a year. Today the static was a loud buzzing in his ears.

Yoshino had been involved in an accident, the woman explained, so they would need to please come to the station as soon as possible for identification. “Eh? What’d you say?” Yoshio said, feeling as if he were talking more to the static than to a person.

When he hung up, Satoko was sitting beside him. She looked less astonished than resigned.

“Come on, let’s go!” Yoshio said, tugging at her hand. “No way a company director’s going to remember the face of every employee!”

Satoko seemed paralyzed and Yoshio yanked her to her feet. After she’d given birth to Yoshino, Satoko had put on weight, and her rear end slid heavily across the worn-out tatami.

“But Yoshino’s coming back today! She’s coming home!”

The call from Terauchi to the Tenjin branch came in after three p.m. Sari, Mako, and other employees were gathered around the TV in the reception area, quickly switching from one channel to the next to find coverage of the incident. Sari answered the phone.

Mako had a premonition: “It’s true. Yoshino’s been murdered…”

Sari was listening intently. Suddenly she screamed out, “What?” Several others turned to look at Mako.

“See? I knew it…” Mako said weakly.

As soon as Sari put down the phone, she began to talk as if she’d been jolted by electricity. There was too much she needed to say and the words tumbled out all at once.

“It was Yoshino, she was strangled, Mr. Terauchi wants us to wait here until he gets back.” Sari’s body began trembling uncontrollably.

“Are you okay?” someone next to Mako asked, holding her, but Mako couldn’t bring herself to look up to see who it was. The office, usually nearly empty at this time of day, seemed claustrophobic. She tried to breathe, but it seemed as if someone had sucked away all the air, and no matter how she tried to take in a breath, the air wouldn’t go inside. Sari was standing there, still blabbing away, but Mako couldn’t hear her. People’s mouths were moving but it was as if they were all drowning, their mouths just moving. Please, someone cry, she prayed. If somebody cried she knew she could, too. And then she could breathe again.

“Someone’s coming here from the police! They want to find out exactly when and where we left her last night!” Sari shouted.

Finally, Mako could react. She nodded, and stood up from her chair without really knowing what she was doing. Her body was still shaking and the floor looked miles away.

From the outset Mako had always sensed a rivalry between Yoshino and Sari. They’d never quarreled openly or anything, but they had used Mako as a sounding board to bad-mouth each other. Yoshino bragged to Mako about dating men she’d met at online dating sites, but always cautioned her to keep it a secret from Sari. Mako didn’t see why meeting guys and having dinner with them was something she had to hide, but Yoshino seemed to find it embarrassing as well as fun, and Mako didn’t want Sari to use this against Yoshino.

When she first moved into the Fairyland Hakata apartments, Sari had said to Yoshino, half joking, “You’re from Kurume, right? And your last name is Ishibashi? Hey, maybe you’re related to the president of Bridgestone?” By then Mako already knew that Yoshino’s family ran a barbershop, so she was sure Yoshino would deny this, but instead she nonchalantly replied, “Hm? Me? We’re sort of distant relatives.”

Sari of course nearly shrieked when she heard this. Surprised at her reaction, Yoshino hurriedly added, “But, we’re just… very, very distant relatives.”

When Sari had left, Yoshino told Mako, “Don’t tell anybody my family runs a barbershop.” Mako had been thinking of calling her on this lie, but Yoshino looked so fierce and Mako was afraid of losing a new friend, so she nodded weakly.

Mako couldn’t figure out why Yoshino would lie like that, especially when the three of them had just become friends.

Mako wasn’t sure of the exact number, but Yoshino always seemed to be corresponding with four or five guys she’d met online. Sometimes, when Sari wasn’t with them, she’d let Mako see the messages from the men.

“Isn’t this sick?” she’d say, showing Mako a message that said, Thanks for the photo! You’re so cute! I spent a whole hour just looking at your picture! Most of the messages were, indeed, fairly repulsive.

Of the men Yoshino met online she’d actually met three-no, four-of them.

Whenever Yoshino met one of these men, she always told Mako all about it. Not what they did for a living or what they looked like, but things like how one man took her to a famous teppanyaki place and bought her a fifteen-thousand-yen tenderloin steak. Or comments on the guy’s possessions, how one drove a BMW.

Mako listened without comment whenever Yoshino reported back on these dates. She never once felt envious. She knew that having dinner with a man she’d just met would make her too nervous, and she much preferred spending an evening alone in her room reading. But she never had a problem listening to Yoshino talk about her exploits. There was a vicarious pleasure in hearing about Yoshino and the kind of life Mako would never know.