The Gate of Sorrows (30 page)

He waited in vain. Galla was as good as her word. She had moved on.

Early the next morning, half-frozen, shouldering his backpack and his disappointment, he returned home and nearly collided with Kazumi as she rushed out the front door. She wore her team jersey under her coat and was lugging her racket case.

“Finally decide to come home?” She narrowed her eyes and inspected him disapprovingly. Her breath was white in the chill. “I’ve got practice.”

“Oh, okay.” Kotaro stepped aside to let her pass, but she stood there with her back to the door.

“You were out all night again. This is the second time.”

Kotaro stared at her blankly. Had he come home to get a tongue-lashing?

“Mom says she’s gonna make you quit that stupid job.” That was Kotaro’s cover story: another all-nighter at Kumar. “You’re working on that serial killer thing, aren’t you?”

The latest mutilations had prompted the media to switch from Toe-Cutter Bill to the somewhat unimaginative Serial Amputator. Cross-jurisdiction investigations were the police’s Achilles’ heel, and as usual, there had been no new developments the day before. TV served up the same warmed-over details every evening. But if Kotaro’s family thought he was holed up in his room or staying out all night to work on the case, so much the better.

“I’m not quitting. I’m keeping up with class just fine. I’ll explain to Mom.”

“Is that so?” Kazumi said coldly. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes with a gloved hand. “I don’t think you’ve been staying out all night ’cause of your job. You’re dating somebody.”

Kotaro burst out laughing. Dating someone. Staying out all night.
Sorry, that’s a little too simple, middle-schooler.
“That’s it. You’re right. You nailed it.” Kotaro thought sarcasm would be effective, but Kazumi didn’t take the bait. She thought he was being serious. Her eyes flashed with anger.

“I don’t know what kind of woman she is, but you’d better dump her. Have you seen yourself in the mirror? You look terrible. If that’s what she’s doing to you, she’s one to stay away from.”

I’ve been outside all night. I’m frozen to the marrow. I’m exhausted. I’m about to die of hunger, and all I get is a sermon.

He looked at his sister’s face, the picture of seriousness. He started laughing again. He wanted to pat her on the head the way Kaname had done to him. In fact, he wanted to hug her, though if he had she probably would’ve knocked him down.

“Just don’t worry about it.” What he really wanted to say was,
Thanks for worrying about me
. But he had his position as big brother to consider. “Still practicing hard? How’s Mika these days?”

Kazumi looked at him as though she’d volleyed a tennis ball over the net and he’d passed a football back to her. “What are you talking about? Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not trying to. If she’s fine, then fine.” He ducked past her and started to open the door.

“The bullying is over,” she whispered quickly. “It stopped. Just like that, like it never happened. It’s almost kind of wei—” She caught herself, as though she were worried about bad luck.

“Weird, you mean?”

She nodded.

“Stuff on the web can be like that, like a typhoon,” Kotaro said. “Of course it doesn’t exactly disappear, because it stays on the web somewhere. But when people calm down, it just goes away. You almost wouldn’t believe it ever happened.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’m still a beginner, but I’m working with the pros. You can believe it.”

Kazumi shouldered her bulky racket case and walked down the steps. Kotaro watched as she crossed the street and rang the Sonois’ doorbell. Mika appeared with an identical jersey and racket case.

“Ko-chan? Good morning!” She looked and sounded happy. Kotaro waved.

“Hey.”

Kazumi leaned close and whispered something. Mika started laughing. “Oh my God. Be careful, Ko-chan!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“See you!”

As Kotaro watched his official and unofficial little sisters bounce off to practice, the thought hit him.
I’ve got to see Shigenori.

The feeling came out of the blue. His partner in crime was the only person who could share what he was struggling with. If he couldn’t see him, Kotaro wasn’t sure he could go on anymore.

Before he went inside, he sent Shigenori another mail. That was just as well, because when he finally went inside, his mother was waiting.

“Kotaro!”

Breakfast lasted long enough for him to get chewed out, defend himself, and negotiate a compromise. By the time he got out of the bath, he was ready pass out from exhaustion. No class until two today. He went to his bedroom, set his alarm and hit the sack. When he woke up, there was a message waiting for him.

KOYO HOSPITAL. NEW WING, ROOM 302.

“What is that?”

“Haven’t you ever seen one of these?”

When Kotaro got off the elevator at the third-floor lobby, Shigenori was waiting for him. He was wearing a cardigan sweater over his pajamas and supporting himself with a walker.

“I’m up and down this corridor every day, training myself to walk again.”

After they’d split up, Shigenori had called an ambulance and had himself taken to the hospital where his procedure was scheduled. Two days later, he’d had his spinal operation.

“You’re walking already?”

“I was up the day after the operation.”

Shigenori’s lower back was still in a cast. “It hurts where they went in. I’ll be here for another three weeks or so. But my legs don’t hurt, not anymore. All the tingling and numbness are gone. It’s like it never happened.” Shigenori looked like a hostage who’d just been rescued. “Let’s go back to my room. Don’t worry, we can talk there. I’ve got a private room.”

Shigenori slowly turned the walker around. Kotaro was relieved. He was so cheerful that Kotaro thought he might’ve forgotten the events of that night.

“They weren’t expecting me that soon, so the only thing open was a single. I think they’re transferring me to a four-bed room next week.”

Room 302 was comfortable and bright. The northwest corner of the Imperial Palace moat was visible from the window. Shigenori got himself comfortable in bed. “What have you been up to?”

Kotaro was thankful that he was making it easier to get down to business. “I just can’t forget what happened.”

He pulled up a folding chair and fought back the tears. He finally had someone to talk to. Now he could get some relief from the constant stress of keeping his secret, at least briefly.

“What did you end up telling your wife?”

“Something plausible. It’s all right. I was supposed to be at a hot spring with some old friends. She didn’t believe me anyway. She’d already figured out I was up to something else.”

Were all wives as sharp as that? Or was it because Shigenori’s wife was married to a police detective?

“The one thing she was sure I wasn’t doing was cheating on her. On that one point, she trusts me completely. It’s a little disappointing, to be honest.” Shigenori seemed truly happy. Kotaro felt a twinge of apprehension.

“I’ve been doing a lot of research since that night,” he said.

Haltingly, he recounted the events of the last ten days, though he left out the visit to the tea caddy building. Shigenori’s face made the decision for him. Lying on his back with his head turned toward Kotaro, it reflected pity and concern.

He finished his story. The sunny room was enveloped in silence.

“So, no new developments, eh?” Shigenori said finally. He sounded only half-interested.

“Um, no.”

“And Galla hasn’t shown up again?”

Kotaro nodded. His chair squeaked. It was a lonely sound.

“Look, Mishima …” With a groan that was more frustration than pain, Shigenori twisted over onto one shoulder to face him. “Can’t we just chalk up what we saw to a bad dream?”

Kotaro couldn’t find an answer. Shigenori didn’t seem to want one. He went on in the same dry tone.

“That thing threatened to kill us. She told us not to go after her—several times, in fact. She said she was a warrior. That’s what she does.”

Kotaro could only nod in agreement. The chair squeaked again.

“But after everything you’ve done over the past ten days, she didn’t show up, even though you broke our promise with all that posting you did. What that means—” For the first time, his expression softened. “What that means is that it never happened. There is no Galla. What we experienced was some kind of extreme, bizarre dream.”

Kotaro still couldn’t bring himself to say anything, but now it wasn’t because he couldn’t find the words. There was something he wanted to say, but he couldn’t summon up the will to say it.

There
is
something wrong with him.
Now he knew how Kaname felt when she saw him at Kumar. Something about Shigenori was definitely different. Galla had done something to him.

What was it that Galla had “purified”? She’d said she would take away his pain. What did she take away?

Backbone. Guts. His pride as a detective. It didn’t matter what you called it. Whatever it was, the man in this hospital room was not the same person who had roughed up Kotaro in the tea caddy building. That ex-detective, the one who was determined to solve the riddle of the moving statue? That was somebody else.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Kotaro heard himself speaking in someone else’s voice, flat and expressionless. “I’ll chalk it up to a bad dream. I don’t have a choice anyway. I’ve hit a dead end.”

“Yes, that’s the way it is.” Shigenori’s eyes shone dully with tranquility and release.

“I’m glad your operation went okay.”

“I couldn’t sleep at all the first night, it hurt so much. They repositioned my vertebrae and fixed them in place with titanium bolts—four of them, this big.” Shigenori made a circle with thumb and forefinger. “That’s probably it for me as far as airplanes go. I’ll trigger the metal detectors every time.”

“You’ll have to carry X-rays to prove you’re not dangerous.” Kotaro laughed, and Shigenori laughed too, with a painful expression.

The nurses were beautiful, but they expected you to mend quickly. The pre-op examination was agonizing. The food was surprisingly good. If it were spring, the cherry trees around the moat would be blooming. After walking through the usual topics between a hospital visitor and a patient, Kotaro stood up.

“It was good to see you, detective. Take care of yourself.”

“Thanks, Mishima.”

Kotaro was almost out the door when he paused. There was one loose end he felt compelled to tie up.

“That neighbor of yours—Mrs. Chigusa, was it? The one who collapsed and had to be taken to a hospital. How is she? Have you heard anything?

“Things didn’t turn out well, I’m afraid. She died three days ago without regaining consciousness.”

“I see. That’s really too bad.”

“Thanks for asking, anyway.” That was all he had to say.

Out in the corridor, Kotaro thought his legs were about to give way. He was close to tears again, but for a different reason.

He couldn’t rely on the detective anymore. He really was alone now.

Kotaro was at a dead end. All he could do was wait.

But for what? For Galla to return? For someone completely new, someone he’d never met, to appear suddenly with new information?

He attended classes. He worked his shifts at Kumar, monitoring for drug-related activity. He gave Kaname a muffler in thanks for covering for him. He’d never seen her happier.

He returned to everyday life. He stopped posting about Galla, circles, and regions. He’d run out of things to say anyway.

February came, and the first day of spring according to the old lunar calendar. Kenji was gone. There was no news from the police about their investigation.

Galla was missing in action. On waking, Kotaro always checked his window for a huge handprint. But there was nothing.

It had all been a dream. A hallucination. Maybe Shigenori was right. Maybe leaving it at that was the best thing.

The key to the tea caddy building that Kotaro had received—confiscated—from Shigenori stayed tucked in a pocket of his backpack. Shigenori hadn’t even asked about it.