Chapter Fifty-Three: The Witch

On the bustling, crowded street, Sachiko Fujimura placed her hand to her mouth and breathed warm air onto it, rubbing vigorously. Despite being born in a snowy country, she could never quite endure the cold.

“Please, have a drink to warm yourself!” A boy, also in school uniform, with earnest dimples, handed her a cup of hot cocoa. He was panting, suggesting he’d just exerted himself.

“Thank you, but… we don’t know each other, do we?” Sachiko did not reach out. With her exaggerated, wine-red short hair and ears adorned with sparkling studs, she looked every bit the delinquent girl—completely unconnected to this upright, earnest boy.

“But I know you, Miss Fujimura. We both attend Ritsusen Middle School. You’re in 2nd Year, Class C; I’m in 3rd Year, Class A. Whenever I look out from my classroom window, I see you sneaking over the fence to skip class.”

“Oh? So what? What’s there to discuss with a delinquent girl like me?” Sachiko raised her brow.

“No, I didn’t mean you’re a delinquent.” The boy stammered defensively, “I just think that, even so, you’re very cute, Miss Fujimura. Um…”

“Spare me.” Sachiko rolled her eyes. “If you’re going to like someone, it should be a gentle, sweet girl. Don’t waste your time on someone as annoying as me.” A gust of cold wind made her shiver reflexively. Noticing this, the boy offered her the hot cocoa again. “Drink it, you’ll feel warmer.”

“I already told you, I don’t need it. How many times do I have to…” Sachiko lashed out irritably, flicking her hand. The boy was caught off guard, and the hot cocoa flew from his grasp.

…

A pale gray wool coat with a turned-down collar now bore a large, dark stain on the shoulder. Zhao Ye raised his eyebrows, gazing at the two teens before him, both still stunned by what had happened.

The boy was the first to recover, bowing at ninety degrees, apologizing repeatedly. “I’m sorry! Really sorry!”

Takeda Shun and Kamimura Yuuki simultaneously produced handkerchiefs, attempting to help Zhao Ye clean the coat, but he waved them off. Sachiko’s eyes flickered, then she sharply reproached the boy, “I knocked over the cup. One person’s actions, one person’s responsibility. No need for you to step in!” She turned to Zhao Ye. “Sorry for dirtying your coat. I’ll compensate you. How much?” Standing barely one meter sixty, Sachiko craned her neck to meet his gaze.

“But, Miss Fujimura…” The boy looked worried.

Zhao Ye interrupted, somewhat at a loss, “You two, making trouble is hardly a good thing. Is there really a need to fight over who’s to blame?”

“The cause was me. I can’t just let someone else take the blame and escape responsibility.” Sachiko added, a hint of guilt coloring her tone, “Though I’m also scared you might not let it go…”

“So you do know fear?” Zhao Ye was amused.

“Of course! Delinquent or not, I’m not some idiot who can’t read the room.” Sachiko muttered. On closer inspection, she was actually quite pretty—her slightly upturned eyes and delicate nose gave her a refined look. Akita was renowned for its beauties; both Nozomi Sasaki and Dan Mitsu hailed from there.

…

“Sachiko, have you gotten into trouble again?!” With a gruff shout, the record shop manager strode over, unceremoniously grabbing Sachiko by the neck and apologizing to Zhao Ye and the others, “I’m really sorry. This kid is always causing trouble, sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Uncle Jiro!” Sachiko struggled.

“Manager, you know them?”

The manager nodded apologetically. “This child is my late cousin’s daughter. She grew up without a father’s guidance, which is why she’s become like this. Mr. Zhao Ye, if she does anything bad, please forgive her.”

“And her mother?”

The manager’s expression soured, but before he could answer, Sachiko suddenly sprang up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, breaking free from his grip.

“This is what I hate most about these small country towns—you run into busybody relatives everywhere!” Sachiko grumbled, pulling out her wallet. “Sir, I only have sixteen thousand seven hundred yen in cash. If that’s not enough, I’ll bring more later.”

“You child…!” The manager was exasperated.

As the tension mounted, a red Mazda sedan, parked at a distance, slowly pulled up to the curb. The woman in the driver’s seat rolled down her window, leaned out slightly, and called softly, “Sachiko.” The gentleness in her voice seemed almost magical, and everyone instinctively turned their gaze toward her.

Takeda Shun, worldly and well-informed, immediately recognized her, bowing deeply. “Senior Ayako Fuji!”

Ayako Fuji—if you’ve watched a few episodes of the Red and White Song Festival, you’d recognize her enchanting figure in vibrant kimono. Known as one of the “Five Beauties of Enka,” she twice won the RB Cable Grand Prize and was among the most successful enka singers of the 1990s.

Enka, a uniquely RB musical style, appears to be traditional Japanese folk music, with singers performing in kimono. In truth, it’s a distinct genre of Japanese pop. As time passed, enka’s market shrank and sales declined, but you can’t underestimate enka performers just because their records don’t sell—like traditional opera artists, who retain extraordinary status despite its decline, enka singers hold considerable weight in the music world. Hibari Misora, Saburo Kitajima, Sachiko Kobayashi, Shinichi Mori—all are legends of enka. Even Teresa Teng sang many enka songs during her time in RB.

Enka singers’ exalted status isn’t just due to their performance style; they’re often deeply intertwined with RB’s yakuza. Going back to Hibari Misora, one of the original “Three Enka Queens,” her entire career was closely linked with the De Ryu group, and her ambiguous relationship with the third-generation leader, Kazuo Taoka, plunged her into the “Misora Scandal.”

More recently, in 1987, Johnny’s Masahiko Kondo and enka singer Hiroshi Itsuki were both nominated for the Record Grand Prize. Kondo’s camp engaged in some covert manipulation to secure the award, while Itsuki’s side retaliated. That Christmas, the yakuza stole Kondo’s late mother’s urn and threatened, “Unless you withdraw from the Grand Prize, you’ll never get it back.”

The most remarkable thing, however, was that Kondo, despite the threat, attended the ceremony and won as planned—his mother’s urn vanished forever. The Grand Prize lost its credibility, and the following year’s ratings dropped nearly ten percent.

Debuting in 1988, Ayako Fuji was a true senior in both reputation and experience. When Takeda Shun revealed her identity, Zhao Ye and Kamimura Yuuki immediately bowed in greeting.

Ayako Fuji nodded graciously, saying nothing, her gaze passing over each face before finally settling on Sachiko.

Sachiko’s back shuddered as she slowly bowed her head. “…Mother.”

…

Inside the smoothly moving Mazda, Zhao Ye, seated in the back, couldn’t help but steal glances at Ayako Fuji’s profile. At thirty-three, her gentle, alluring face, brows tinged with melancholy, and elegant, pale neck exuded an exquisite beauty. In the prime of her life, she reminded Zhao Ye of ripe grapes or the blush at the tip of a peach—irresistibly enticing.

In 1981, at twenty, Ayako Fuji gave birth to her daughter, soon divorced, and her ex-husband later committed suicide. Because of this, the record shop manager—her ex-husband’s cousin—harbored resentment toward Ayako and Sachiko. In 1991, her agency’s manager also committed suicide in her home, making two men who ended their lives for her. The media dubbed Ayako Fuji the “Enchantress.”

The “Enchantress” noticed Zhao Ye’s curious gaze in the rearview mirror and, with a teasing tone, asked, “Mr. Zhao Ye, do you find something odd about me?”

“No, not at all,” Zhao Ye hurriedly denied. Truth be told, Ayako Fuji was unlike any woman he’d ever met in any lifetime. In her presence, he felt like a ball of yarn being toyed with by a cat.

Ayako Fuji smiled gently. “Don’t be nervous. If anything, we’re the ones at fault—Sachiko caused the trouble.”

Sachiko, sitting in the front passenger seat, instinctively shrank her neck.

Indeed, Ayako Fuji had invited Zhao Ye and his friends into her car under the pretext of making amends. They were now headed to her private residence in Akita City.

After about ten minutes, the car entered a tranquil residential area. Ayako Fuji’s home was a quaint, refined, but clearly aged traditional Japanese house. Born in Semboku City, it was curious she owned such an old house here, but considering Sachiko’s father’s relatives lived in Akita City, it likely had something to do with her late husband. She slid open the paper door, and the group removed their shoes in the entryway. Ayako Fuji handed out disposable slippers from the shoe cabinet.

The three were led to a reception room near the entrance. Though the overall decor was Japanese-style, the furniture was Western, and the floor was covered with a thick carpet instead of tatami. Seated on the sofa, Ayako Fuji asked, “Would you like something to drink?”

“Just regular tea, please,” said Zhao Ye, with Takeda Shun and Kamimura Yuuki nodding in agreement. Ayako Fuji glanced at Sachiko, and despite her rebellious demeanor in public, Sachiko obediently went to the kitchen to brew tea for her mother.

Ayako Fuji left the room, her footsteps suggesting she’d gone upstairs. The room was now left to just Zhao Ye and his friends. Takeda Shun breathed a sigh of relief and whispered, “No matter how many times, Senior Ayako Fuji’s aura is powerful.”

“I don’t even dare look at her,” Kamimura Yuuki stuck out his tongue. “If I met her gaze, I’d probably turn to stone.”