The Gate of Sorrows (34 page)

“She took away their burden, the thing that was making them suffer because their hearts were out of balance. She gave them relief, even if the relief is only temporary. She gets the desire, they get relief. That’s the exchange.”

Kotaro shook his head vigorously. “But look what happened to them! Is that worth it? What kind of desire could make them suffer enough to want to do that?”

“There are lots of possibilities. If you’re homeless, maybe you want to see your family again or rejoin society. Or have a real job.”

“What about Kenji? He had a family and a job and school. Friends. He had everything.”

“Then there was probably something else he desired with all his heart. Some thing, or some result. He just didn’t tell you about it, that’s all. Also, this older guy you look up to? He changed after Galla purified him. It’s the same thing. You said he was a retired detective?”

“Yeah. He still looks the part.”

“He probably wants a job. He can still work. He can contribute to society. He needs a goal in life. A purpose.”

Shigenori had devoted himself to solving the riddle of the gargoyle. To him, it had been a “case.” Kotaro felt a chill as he remembered. “Galla told him he’d harvested too much evil.”

“He was like a fisherman, driven to gather evil with his net. He couldn’t stop himself. The weight of all that evil—no, the satisfaction he got when he trapped another sinner—was something he couldn’t let go of. That must be what Galla meant.”

Her expression softened. “It’s not forever, you know. In time, your friend will return to the way he was. As long as the heart is alive, desire always blooms again.”

“Why didn’t she just take us, then? Like she did Kenji and the others.”

“You can answer that yourself. It would’ve been dangerous. If she’d taken you both, that wouldn’t have been the end of it, especially since you and Kenji were friends.”

“So she took away the thing that made Shigenori a threat to her and left him behind.”

“And she only threatened you. She probably assumed that was more than enough.”

Hearing this from a tenth grader made Kotaro feel more miserable than ever.

“Galla said she was sorry, didn’t she?”

“Yeah. A few times.”

“I think she was telling the truth there too. She knew both of you were worried about Kenji. She felt bad about it, and that’s why she dealt with you mercifully.”

“I don’t know. I still can’t shake the feeling that Galla didn’t think I was worth worrying about.”

“Listen to me, Kotaro. The guardians of the tower aren’t evil. Galla wouldn’t go out and harvest people without a reason. You’ve got to understand that.”

Kotaro was no longer sure what was evil and what wasn’t. He wasn’t even sure if he understood what evil was.

“Why do you think Galla needs to gather power?”

Yuriko shook her head. “No idea. Only Galla can answer that.”

“But it must be something important.”

“I think it must be something so important, it affects the very stability of her region. That would explain why Ash is worried.” She smiled. “Now it’s my turn to answer
your
questions. Like, what the Circle is.”

Kotaro unconsciously sat up straight.

“The Circle is the sum total of all the stories that make up this world.”

“
Stories
?”

“The world is right here. Isn’t it?” Yuriko spread her fingers and gazed up at the sky. “The universe is here. We can’t see it, but we know it’s there. Science proves it. But we can’t live our lives based on science alone.

“Human beings live in a world of objects and phenomena, but those are not the only things we need to live. We
interpret
our world, and we project our desires and beliefs on that interpreted world. Only then can we live as human beings. Those desires and beliefs are stories, and the Circle is the sum of all of them—all the stories we tell about the world we subjectively experience. Because everyone in the world creates his or her own story, the Circle is much larger than the world of things that exist. It encompasses regions beyond counting.

“This reality we live in—this is a region. Japan is a region. Regions can be big, or they can be tiny. The Earth itself is a region—a region made up of all the stories of all the people who live here.”

“Ti … ti—”

“Time out?

“Um, yeah. Listen, Yuriko. You’re wrong.”

“How so?”

“Nationalities and countries don’t exist because of shared stories. They exist because of shared history.”

She smiled confidently. “That’s true. Except that history is just another story.”

“Oh, come on! What do you think historians do? They don’t make stuff up.”

“Are you sure? Can they go back in time and check? Historians give us their conjectures about what happened and why. Conjectures, stories—it’s all the same thing.”

He wanted to disagree, but he was floundering.

“Scientists never say ‘Now we know everything about such-and-such’ or ‘Our knowledge is pure, 100 percent truth.’ If they did, that
would
be a lie.”

Kotaro was ready to throw up his hands.
I’m losing a debate to a high school hottie.

“The further scientists push back the boundaries of the unknown,” she continued, “the longer that perimeter gets. The more we know, the more we don’t know. That’s what scientists do. It’s their job. They’re always formulating theories and conjectures about what lies beyond the boundary. It’s a creative process, and all those explanations they’re creating are stories too. Just because a theory turns out to ‘work’ doesn’t change the fact that it’s a story.

“A good scientist knows where the border with the unknown lies, at least in his own field. He never blurs the line between known and unknown—they have to be kept separate at all costs. But for people who aren’t scientists, the line between known and unknown isn’t all that clean and sharp. The same even goes for scientists, when it’s outside their field. Then they’re just as likely as the next person to blur the line. So the stories keep multiplying and spreading out farther and farther.

“Now this,” she added carefully, “is not a problem, in itself. Stories are not evil. After all, they’re made up of people’s hopes and their joy in being alive. Or they can make people feel better. Teach them something useful, like justice or compassion.

“Yet ultimately, stories contain the seeds of evil, because they represent their own reality. Even stories that people generate out of compassion have an intimate connection with the karma of their weavers.”

Kotaro’s mouth was ahead of his brain. “That sounds like religion to me.”

Yuriko’s eyes sparkled. She nodded. “Religion is a story too. So is God. That’s the greatest story humanity ever told.”

“That kind of thinking could get you in trouble in some parts of the world.”

“Sure it could. You make one story the basis for everything. If people don’t agree with you, attack them. Like the Inquisition during Europe’s Middle Ages. Or terrorism spread by fundamentalists. All of these are evils spawned by stories. They happen when stories bring out the evil in people. It’s a simple concept, but it has big implications.

“The two of us sitting here now, talking. That’s a story. It’s us, interpreting the world together. People can’t live without their interpretations of the world. That gives birth to the Circle, and from there it keeps growing.”

She suddenly leaned toward Kotaro. “Where do you think stories come from?”

He drew back in surprise. “Where else? From people’s heads.”
Or maybe their hearts.

“No. That’s wrong. All stories come from a single source. They flow out of the source and return to it. That source is called the Nameless Land.

“In the Nameless Land, there is a pair of huge wheels called the Great Wheels of Inculpation. The turning of those wheels sends stories out into the Circle and draws them back again. The Nameless Land is the source that keeps stories circulating in the Circle.”

Kotaro rolled his eyes in aggravation. “How would you even know such a thing?”

“I’ve seen it. I went there to save my brother. He went there too.” A cloud seemed to pass over her face.

“Inculpation … Are you talking about accusation? For crimes?”

“That’s right. People create stories, and their stories devour them.”

“But you just said stories aren’t evil!”

“They’re not. But karma is karma. Sin is sin.”

“I give up. This is nonsense. Listen, can I point something out to you?”

“Feel free.”

“If our talking to each other here is a story, then this Nameless Land thing is a story too. You know that, right?”

“Of course.”

Just like that. Kotaro felt the wind leaking from his sails.

“The Nameless Land is another region, another story,” she said. “I wouldn’t argue with that. The only ‘real’ thing is the Circle itself. No one can escape from it … And no one needs to,” she murmured.

He took a deep breath. This was going nowhere. She was running him in circles. He had to bring her down to earth.

“Are the Nameless Land and the Tower of Inception different regions?”

Yuriko nodded firmly, yes.

“Okay, the Nameless Land is the source of all stories. What is the Tower of Inception?”

“The source of all words. It’s the region where the souls of words are born. The Nameless Land and the Tower of Inception are a dyad. Stories and words, words and stories. It’s impossible to say which comes first. They’re like a circle—two snakes, each with the other’s tail in its mouth.”

Kotaro burst out laughing. “Words come first! That’s obvious.”

“Why is that?”

“Can’t tell a story without words.”

“But stories about the origins of words
are
stories. How could people use words if they never appeared in a story before?”

Kotaro stared at her open-mouthed for a few seconds before he could answer. “I feel like I’m talking to the Cheshire Cat.”

Yuriko laughed joyously and clapped her hands. “Kotaro, you’re so
interesting
!”

It’s not a joke, kid. I don’t care how cute you are. Not every guy is going to let you lead him around by the nose.

“I’ve been sitting here listening to you mixing actual places with imaginary ones, like they were both part of the same reality,” Kotaro said. “Nameless Land, Tower of Inception—they’re just imaginary locations. You know that.”

She gazed back at him, cool and unruffled. “They
are
part of the same reality. They’re all regions.”

“Quit talking nonsense!”

“Why is it nonsense? The world exists and it’s real. Other worlds are real, but they don’t exist. That’s the only difference. But as regions, they’re on the same footing. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Sorry. No.”

“What about
The Chronicles of Narnia
?”

Mika loved this series of fantasy novels. She’d bought the books after seeing the movies. She’d said the books were even more fascinating.

“Lots of people are familiar with the Kingdom of Narnia. They know about the things that happen there and the creatures who live there. They talk to each other about the stories and reinforce each other’s interest.”

“But they don’t exist.”

“They’re still real.”

“There’s a huge difference.”

“Are you sure? Can you dismiss something that doesn’t exist as meaningless? Or say nonexistent things don’t affect us? Are things that don’t exist just for enjoyment or killing time in this world of ours? Are you ready to say they’re just illusions we consume when and as we feel like it?”

I’m talking to the Cheshire Cat again.

“That’s not what I meant. Of course things that don’t exist can affect us. Sometimes even physically,” Kotaro said.

“Like Galla.” Yuriko’s gaze was level. “I can see why an encounter like that would be so confusing. But you didn’t run and tell your friends about your strange experience and have fun with it and leave it at that. You didn’t write it off as some hallucination. You want to understand what happened to you. You want to know more. That’s dangerous. That’s why I had to find you.”

“You said you might have to eliminate me. Is curiosity a crime?”

“It is in this case. It’s childish.”

“I don’t need to hear that from you.” He looked grim. “I want to bring Kenji back.”

“He’s not dead. He made a deal with Galla of his own free will and he’s satisfied. Do you still want to bring him back?”

“You don’t know what he was thinking. You’re just guessing.”

“You accept statements like that from people all the time without demanding proof. Can’t you accept my explanation this once?”

Can’t we just chalk up what we saw to a bad dream?

“Kotaro, you told me you made eye contact with Kenji when you saw him that night.”

“Yes. From within the scythe.”

“Did he look like he wanted you to save him? Could you feel him saying ‘Save me, get me out of here’?”

“I don’t know. I still couldn’t believe everything that was happening.”

“That’s a tricky answer.” She was right. Kotaro looked away at the grass beneath his feet.

“What would make Kenji do a deal with a creature like that?” he murmured.

“It would’ve been his secret. Something only he knew.”

“He didn’t look like he was carrying around a secret that big.”

“If he had, it wouldn’t have been a secret, would it?” She’d scored a point.

“If I really, really, wanted to know why Galla’s here and what Kenji’s doing right now, do you think Galla would appear before me?”

Yuriko’s shoulders sagged. She sighed. “
That
would be like crossing a minefield wearing snowshoes. Is that what you want?”

Kotaro laughed at the simile, but Yuriko wasn’t smiling.

“You say I’m acting like things that exist and things that don’t are the same,” she said. “How are you any different? You’re treating Galla and the region she comes from as if it exists, but it doesn’t, even though it’s still real.”

Another point scored.

“… What is a wolf?” Kotaro asked.

“What’s this? Are you trying to change the subject?”