Free A Dog in Water by Kazuhiro Kiuchi

would’ve … all … been fine …” The wound in his neck didn’t seem to be bleeding anymore. “Happiness? You … never stood … a chan …”
    His words faded away. Suddenly Katsuya looked like a doll.
    I tossed the knife away and stood up. I didn’t bother wiping off my fingerprints. She was staring into space, the gun still in her right hand. I took it from her and returned it to her bag.
    My clothes were fairly soaked with Katsuya’s blood. I picked up my coat and wore it. Pressing her back, I urged her towards the door. She walked slowly, and only as much as I pushed.
    We didn’t exchange a single word as we filed down the exposed stairway. It was Junko Tajima who finally broke the silence, just after we stepped out onto the street along the front of the building. “Today marks exactly one week. Please send me an invoice.”
    I couldn’t detect any emotions on her face. I shook my head. “In the end I was unable to do anything for you. I can’t accept payment.”
    She seemed to give this some thought before suddenly plunging her hand into her bag. For a moment I thought she might shoot me without reason. What she pulled out, however, were a driver’s license and a standard-size photograph.
    The name on the license read “Eiko Yamamoto”; the face on it belonged to Junko Tajima.
    “My name is Eiko Yamamoto. Please find my husband, Koichi.”
    I looked at the standard-size photo. It showed a tall, bespectacled man standing next to Junko Tajima. This one required no search. I took out my pocketbook, tore off the page with the address of theYoyogi Uehara apartment and handed it to her. “Here. Gratis.”
    She bowed quickly, turned her back to me and walked away in a straight line.
    Not that I’d been expecting a word of thanks, but I felt loneliness suddenly washing over me. I had at least hoped to see her smile.
    I walked back to where my car was parked. Lights were flickering on in the surrounding buildings. Evening was making her usual appearance.
    Perhaps, once I got back to the office, I could put together the plastic model of the battleship
Yamato
. I couldn’t think of much else to do at the moment.
    Junko Tajima was about to pay a visit to Koichi Yamamoto’s apartment. With a .38 revolver in hand.
    I was in no position to stop her. I was a common murderer. I prayed that she might at least consider her unborn child and think it over.
    But as far as I was concerned, it was old business.
    A man rapes a woman, one soul betrays another, someone kills somebody.
    A case of little importance, a dime a dozen in this city.

Chapter Two

Two Things To Do Before You Die

1
    His black school backpack was bouncing up and down. The little boy ran up the slope in the residential district at full tilt pressing his school-issued navy blue hat to his head with his right hand to keep the wind from snatching it away.
    Today his homeroom teacher told him that one of the drawings he’d done in class had been secretly submitted to a contest held by a newspaper and that he’d won first place. It was the best thing that had happened to him in his four years since starting grade school. He wanted to tell his mom right away. He ran, panting for breath, unable to suppress the smile that bloomed on his face.
    Even after cresting the hill, the boy never slowed his pace as he ran.
    Masayuki Takeda tried desperately to regain his composure. He needed to process what was happening in his home as reality.
    The gun pointed at him did not look like a fake. At any moment, the deep dark hole barely half an inch in diameter could rob everything he had with a burst of flames.
    “Where’s the money?!” yelled the man in a black ski mask as he kept the gun trained on Takeda. From his voice, he seemed to be no older than twenty-five.
    Damn thug!
Anger churned in Takeda’s guts. He desperatelyreined it in. He kept his voice as calm as possible. “I don’t know who told you what, but no one keeps valuables at home