‘By contrast, a human can hold their breath for more than five minutes. Interesting, isn’t it? The key is preparation. Breathe slowly for several minutes and, before you dive in, take a deep breath.’

Mizuki’s soft and calm voice was all he needed. He would survive this.

Shoji braced himself and began to control his breathing. One … Two … Three … The water level rose, but he forced himself to stay calm. Four … Five … Six … He continued to count, keeping his breathing as slow as possible.

Finally, time ran out.

Air. He needed air.

Shoji took a deep breath before the water covered his nose.

His whole body was now submerged. He could see the surface, but he couldn’t move. He struggled. He yanked at the rope but, under water, his movements became laborious. Yet he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t allow it to end like this.

Air bubbles slowly escaped from his mouth. He clenched his lips together. He had to last as long as possible. His movements were getting more pronounced. The drug was wearing off. Shoji kept struggling, tossing, and thrashing around.

A little bit more. Yes, a little bit more.

His lungs hurt. He was in excruciating pain.

Help. Somebody, help. Was he going to die?

In his haziness, he heard a different tune. Had Mr Sato changed the song? No. This clear, precise sound was resonating inside his head. The delicate sound of a koto, and not just any koto. It was Shoji’s mother’s beloved seventeen-string koto. How had he not recognised it at once? The melody he had long forgotten came flooding in.

•

He heard his mother’s pitch-perfect voice. He saw her elegant posture and her black hair, perfectly styled into a smooth bun, which suited her beautiful green kimono. Her slender fingers danced on her instrument. Everything was so vivid. But where was he?

Oh, there he was, standing not far from her with a look of admiration on his face. He was still a little boy. The boy wished he could remain there forever, listening to his mother’s beautiful music, but he didn’t stay for long.

He was now dressed in black. He stared at his mother, but she was no longer playing the koto. She had changed into a black kimono. She was sobbing. What happened, Mother? Who made you upset? Was it Father? He was standing next to her, also dressed in black.

Not far from them, a man kneeled next to a small coffin with a stoic expression. Uncle Hidetoshi. What was he doing there? Whose funeral were they at?

Everything blurred. When he could finally focus, he was in the backyard of his house.