Villain a Novel (2010) by Shuichi Yoshida Page B

hangover this morning?” Instead of a reply there was a loud splash of water.
    “Where did you go drinking?”
    No reply, just the sound of Yuichi pouring water over himself.
    “You shouldn’t drink and drive, you know.”
    By this point Fusae no longer expected any response.
    She turned off the nearly boiling pot of soup and put the cutting board, bloody from slicing up the fish, into the sink to soak.
    So Yuichi could eat as soon as he came out of the bath, she sliced up a healthy portion of sashimi and put it out with the fried ground fish meat she’d cooked the night before. She opened the rice cooker and the fluffy hot rice sent a cloud of steam into the chilly kitchen.
    Before Katsuji became bedridden she’d always cooked three cups of rice in the morning and five in the evening. Sometimes she felt like all she’d done for the last fifteen years was rinse rice to make sure these two men had enough to fill their stomachs. Yuichi had loved rice, ever since he was a child. Give him a couple of daikon pickles and he could easily down a large bowl.
    And everything he ate made him grow. From the time he entered junior high Fusae could swear she actually saw him growing taller by the day. Sometimes she couldn’t believe it, found it incredible how the food she provided him helped him blossom into a grown man. She’d had only daughters herself, and could sense how raising a boy, her grandson, struck a chord deep within her, some female instinct she’d never felt with her daughters.
    In the beginning she deferred to Yuichi’s mother, Yoriko. After Yoriko ran off with a man, leaving behind Yuichi, who was in elementary school, and Fusae knew it was up to her to raise the child, she naturally enough was upset by her daughter’s unfaithfulness. But more than that, she felt a new energy rising up within her. Fusae was just about to turn fifty at the time.
    When Yuichi had first come to live in this house, after his mother had been abandoned by her husband, he’d already lost all trust in her. He’d call out “Mom!” to her and act spoiled, but he really wasn’t focused on her at all.
    Once Fusae had taken out an old photo album to show Yuichi,taking care that Yoriko didn’t see them. “Don’t you think Grandma was prettier than your mother?” she asked. She’d meant it as a joke, but as she pulled the dusty old album out of the closet she felt a certain tension within her. Yuichi gazed at the photo she pointed out and was silent. Looking down on his small head from behind, Fusae suddenly realized what a terrible thing she had done. She quickly snapped shut the album. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I was never, ever beautiful.” Despite her age, she found herself blushing.
    At Katsuji’s bedside, Fusae packed some underwear and toiletries in his leather bag. She’d bought the bag the first time he’d gone into the hospital. Figuring they’d use it only one time she’d chosen a cheap one, but with him in and out of the hospital all the time the bag, even the stitching, had started to fall apart.
    “Tomorrow I’ll bring you some tea and
furikake,”
Fusae said. Katsuji’s mouth must have been dry, for he swallowed audibly.
    “Has Yuichi eaten already?” Katsuji slowly rolled over and half crawled out of bed toward the dinner Fusae had brought on a tray.
    “He had yellowtail sashimi. If you’d like, I’ll bring you some,” Fusae hurriedly added. Katsuji had let out a sigh when he saw the bland boiled vegetables and rice porridge.
    “I don’t need any sashimi. But I want you to make sure to give something to the nurses at the hospital.” Katsuji picked up his chopsticks, his hands trembling slightly.
    “What do you mean,
give something?”
    “Money, of course.”
    “Money? Again with the money. Nurses these days don’t accept money from patients.” As she always did, Fusae turned this notion down flat. She hated this aspect of Katsuji’s personality, something she saw in all men and