But Jiro? Were his intentions genuine? After a little over three years together, I liked to think I could tell when he was lying.
Had Jiro really gone from adversary to…dare I say, someone I could trust again? He didn’t have to stop Taka and Dori from assaulting me. But wasn’t that the bare minimum of being a decent human being? See something wrong, step in. Or was there more to it? He’d said he wanted to be friends and admitted he had failed our relationship. Was that so hard to believe?
Were people truly capable of change? Could someone bad ever become good?
I felt more confused than ever. How was I supposed to play this game moving forward? Focus only on surviving the challenges? Or question every interaction, every conversation with Kenji, Jiro, and even Reina and Chef Sakamoto? Assume the game was twenty-four seven now, and everyone was in play?
The sound of the dormitory door opening echoed down the hall, pulling me from my thoughts. I figured it was Jiro returning. Before I knew it, I was on my feet, stepping out of my room.
I moved silently down the hallway, my steps light as I avoided the creakier boards until I reached Hideo’s old room. It was next to Jiro’s; he occupied the first room. I pushed the door open. Hideo’s belongings had been cleared out.
“Akiko?” Jiro’s head popped out of his room. “What are you doing?”
“I want to switch rooms. Are you okay if I take this one?”
“Why? I mean…yeah, it’s fine. Are you okay?”
For a moment, I considered telling him about my run-in with Kenji but decided against it. Better to keep my cards close. “I don’t like my room, that’s all.”
I hurried back to my room, my hands trembling as I packed my belongings. I shoved my clothes into a pillowcase with quick, jerky movements. A floorboard creaked outside my door, and I froze. Was someone watching? Listening? Or was it just my paranoia?
On my way back to Hideo’s room, I passed Kenji’s door. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was on the other side, awake, aware of my every move. The thought of his eyes on me made my skin crawl.
When I reached Hideo’s room, Jiro stood in the hall, watching me with a slight furrow in his brow. I sensed him trying to piece together the real reason for my room change.
“Need help?” he asked.
“I’ve got it,” I said, forcing a small smile as I stepped inside. There wasn’t much to unpack.
“Well, if you need anything, just knock like this.” Jiro rapped on the wall between our rooms three times.
I thanked him and closed the door, shoving the chair under the doorknob. For the first time since arriving at the compound, I felt relieved. Relieved not to be sleeping next to Kenji.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
AKIKO’S DREAM – THE LOCKED DOOR
Later that night, the recurring dream returned. The one where I’m chasing after my father. But this time, I made it farther than I ever had before.
The pier’s boards groaned beneath my feet, and the tang of saltwater filled my nose. His silhouette at the end of the pier, near the bait shack, teased me like a mirage. He was smiling, waving me forward. I ran, the wind blowing at my face as I pushed myself to reach him. But when I arrived, he was gone.
I stood before the weathered bait shack, its warped wooden slats barely holding it up. “Papa!” I called out, my voice straining against the roar of waves below and the cries of seagulls. I peeked over the edge, expecting to see him face down in the waters. But he wasn’t.
And then I spotted him on the boardwalk, smiling, waving. How was he able to stay ahead of me? Frustrated, I charged forward, determined to close the gap and finally grab hold of his hand. Yet when I reached the spot where he’d stood, he was gone. Again.
Suddenly, the boardwalk was teeming with people. Where had they all come from? I pushed through the crowd, searching for the familiar blue shirt he always wore. A flash of color ahead caught my eye. There he was.
I took off, weaving through the crowd, bouncing off people like a pinball. He slipped into an alleyway between two buildings, and I followed. As I turned the corner, I caught sight of a door at the far end of the alley just as it closed. I sprinted toward it.
“Papa!” My tiny fists slammed against the wood until they stung. “Papa, please.” My voice cracked, but the locked door stood firm and impenetrable.
Where had he gone? What was this place?
I woke up with a jolt, my chest heaving, my hands clenched tight as if they were still hammering against that door. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings of my new room. Slowly, reality settled in, and I exhaled.
The dream always left me feeling empty, but this time was different. The locked door lingered in my thoughts. Was it my father I was chasing? Or was I chasing something else—something locked away from me?
I sat there in the darkness, grappling with what the dream was trying to tell me, if anything. Or was it just a cruel trick of the universe reminding me that my father had abandoned me?
