Capítulo 5: Echoes in the Hallway
The late afternoon sun bathed the Tanaka household in a warm, golden glow. Shadows of gently swaying bamboo played across the paper screens, and the scent of blooming jasmine wafted through the open windows. Young Catherine tiptoed across the tatami mats, her giggles barely contained as she searched for the perfect hiding spot.
"Twenty... nineteen... eighteen..." Hana's melodic voice called out from the courtyard, each number drawing out the excitement in Catherine's chest. Hide-and-seek was their favorite game, especially on tranquil days like this when the world felt safe and full of wonder.
She slipped behind a tall decorative vase adorned with painted cranes, stifling a laugh as she crouched low. The coolness of the ceramic pressed against her back, grounding her in the moment. From her hiding place, she could see slivers of the hallway and the soft glow of light filtering through the shoji screens.
"Ready or not, here I come!" Hana announced with playful exaggeration.
Catherine covered her mouth to suppress another giggle, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. She could hear her mother's soft footsteps approaching, the faint rustle of her yukata against the floor.
Just then, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house, its chime unusually loud in the quiet afternoon. The footsteps paused.
"Now who could that be?" Hana mused aloud.
Catherine peeked out just in time to see her mother adjust her sleeves and tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear before heading toward the entrance. The game momentarily forgotten, Catherine considered revealing herself but decided to stay hidden a little longer.
Voices drifted down the hallway—Hana's polite greeting mingled with unfamiliar male voices. Curiosity getting the better of her, Catherine quietly shifted positions to catch a glimpse of the visitors.
Through the slight gap between the screen and the wall, she saw two men standing at the doorway. They were dressed in dark suits, their expressions unreadable. One of them held a briefcase, while the other kept his hands casually in his pockets.
"I'm sorry to arrive unannounced," the man with the briefcase said, bowing slightly. "We're here to discuss an urgent matter with Mr. Tanaka."
"My husband isn't home at the moment," Hana replied calmly. "Perhaps you could return later or leave a message?"
The second man stepped forward, his gaze sharp. "Our business is rather pressing. May we come in and wait for him?"
Hana hesitated for a fraction of a second—a moment almost imperceptible, but Catherine noticed. "I'm afraid that won't be necessary. If you provide your contact information, I'll ensure he receives your message as soon as possible."
There was a brief, tense silence. Catherine felt a flutter of unease in her stomach, a sensation she couldn't quite place.
"Very well," the first man conceded, though his tone suggested reluctance. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a business card. "Please have him call us at his earliest convenience."
Hana accepted the card with both hands, bowing politely. "Of course. Thank you for stopping by."
The men exchanged a glance before turning to leave. As they stepped away from the entrance, Hana slid the door shut with a soft click. She stood there for a moment, her back to the hallway, shoulders slightly hunched.
Catherine watched as her mother took a deep breath, then carefully slipped the business card into her sleeve. When Hana turned around, her usual serene expression had returned, but there was a hint of something else in her eyes—something Catherine didn't recognize.
Deciding it was time to resume their game, Catherine emerged from her hiding spot. "Mama!" she called out, bounding down the hallway. "You didn't find me!"
Hana looked up, a genuine smile spreading across her face at the sight of her daughter. "Ah, there you are! I was starting to think you'd found the most perfect hiding place."
Catherine giggled. "I did! But then those men came, and you stopped looking."
"You're right, and I apologize," Hana said, kneeling down to Catherine's level. "Shall we continue our game?"
Before Catherine could respond, the phone rang sharply from the sitting room. It startled them both. "My, it's quite the busy afternoon," Hana remarked, standing up. "Why don't you go hide one more time? I'll come find you as soon as I answer the call."
"Okay!" Catherine agreed enthusiastically.
As her mother walked away, Catherine considered her options. She wanted a new, even better hiding spot—somewhere Hana would never expect. Her eyes lit up as she remembered the storage closet under the stairs, a place filled with old boxes and forgotten treasures.
She made her way quietly across the house, the familiar creaks of the floorboards guiding her steps. Reaching the small door, she carefully slid it open and slipped inside. The air was cool and carried the scent of cedar and aged paper.
Catherine settled in between a stack of boxes, pulling the door nearly closed behind her. From this spot, she could hear faint echoes of her mother's voice as she spoke on the phone. She couldn't make out the words, but the tone seemed hushed and serious.
Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she noticed a small crack in the wall where a sliver of sunlight peeked through. Dust particles danced in the beam, resembling tiny stars. She reached out to touch them, fascinated by their delicate movements.
Minutes passed. Catherine waited patiently, but the anticipated sound of her mother's footsteps never came. A sense of boredom began to creep in.
Just then, she heard a soft thud upstairs, followed by the creak of a floorboard. "Papa must be home!" she thought excitedly. Eager to greet him, she decided to abandon her hiding spot.
Emerging from the closet, Catherine made her way toward the stairs. The house seemed quieter than usual, and an unfamiliar chill hung in the air.
"Papa?" she called out softly.
No response.
As she climbed the stairs, she noticed that the door to her parents' bedroom was slightly ajar. A thin sliver of shadow moved inside—a gentle sway, like someone shifting their weight.
"Papa, are you in there?" she asked, pushing the door open a bit more.
The room was empty, the curtains drawn halfway, allowing muted light to filter through. The bed was neatly made, and everything appeared in its place, yet Catherine felt a strange unease.
A sudden crash from downstairs startled her—a sharp sound of porcelain shattering against the floor. Heart pounding, she spun around and hurried back down the stairs.
At the bottom, she found Hana kneeling on the kitchen floor, picking up the broken pieces of a teacup. "Mama!" Catherine exclaimed, rushing over. "Are you okay?"
Hana looked up, her expression momentarily blank before softening into a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, sweetheart. I just had a little accident." But as she reached out to gather the shards, Catherine noticed a small cut on her mother's finger, a bead of crimson forming.
"You're hurt," Catherine said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Hana glanced at the cut as if noticing it for the first time. "Oh, it's nothing. Just a tiny scratch." She stood up slowly, discarding the broken pieces into the trash and rinsing her hand under the faucet.
Catherine felt a lump in her throat. "Papa's not home yet?"
"Not yet," Hana replied, wrapping a bandage around her finger with practiced ease. "He should be back soon."
There was a fleeting expression on her mother's face—one of worry or perhaps sadness—that vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. Hana turned to Catherine and placed a gentle hand on her cheek. "How about we prepare dinner together?"
Catherine nodded, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that had settled over her. "Can we make soba noodles?"
"That's a wonderful idea," Hana agreed, her smile warming.
As they moved around the kitchen, gathering ingredients and setting the table, the normalcy of the routine began to soothe Catherine's nerves. She laughed as Hana playfully dabbed a bit of flour on her nose, and for a moment, everything felt right again.
But later that evening, as Catherine lay in bed, staring at the shadows dancing on the ceiling, the day's odd occurrences lingered in her mind. The unfamiliar men, the strange noises, the broken teacup—it all felt like pieces of a puzzle she couldn't quite put together.
She hugged her favorite stuffed animal—a soft rabbit Hana had sewn for her—and whispered into the darkness, "Everything's okay. Mama and Papa will keep me safe."
Outside, a distant rumble of thunder signaled an approaching storm. Catherine closed her eyes, willing herself to believe the comforting words. Eventually, sleep overtook her, but the unsettled feeling remained, tucked away in the corners of her dreams.
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