The Gate of Sorrows (78 page)

“If they put a shop in there, we can walk right in the front door,” Kotaro said.

“They probably won’t let us go up to the roof, though.”

“That first floor looked like a good place for a restaurant. If they open one, let’s have a party and celebrate my recovery.”

“Sure, sure. Looking forward to it. By that time, you’ll probably have a nice new implant to close that gap in your teeth. You’ll be handsome again.”

Shigenori’s response was playful, but his eyes weren’t smiling. Kotaro probably looked the same.

This is the end of the line.

It was better for both of them. They didn’t have to say it to know it was true. This wasn’t a sympathy visit. Shigenori had come to say goodbye.

The matter is closed. I’m going back to my life. You should do the
same, kid.

That was how detectives said goodbye.

Fortunately for Kotaro, his hematoma wasn’t so large that it required surgery. With time it would be reabsorbed naturally. Until then he’d have to be monitored closely, but that was all. Still, more than two weeks after that night in the park, he remained in the hospital.

Summer had hung on tenaciously but was finally gone. He climbed the stairs to the roof of his wing. As he strolled along the roof between the lines of flapping laundry and the high net fence, Seigo peeked around the door to the stairwell and stepped out onto the roof.

“I asked the nurse. She told me you were probably up here doing calisthenics.”

“I’m not quite in shape for that yet,” Kotaro said.

“It’s nice up here on the roof.”

“It’s where they hang the laundry, but it’s a paradise for secret smokers, too.”

Seigo squinted against the breezy sunlight. “About five years ago, was it? Ayuko ended up in the hospital with meningitis. At the time, she was a smoker. As soon as she was up and around, she started sneaking around looking for a place to smoke. Another patient clued her in. And here I’d been telling her it was a good chance for her to quit.”

Kotaro peered at him closely. The was the first time he’d heard Seigo talk about Ayuko since she died.

That was the end of the story. He turned his back to Kotaro, reached up and grabbed the wire mesh of the fence. “We’re pretty high up here. It’s making me dizzy.”

The matter is closed. I’m going back to my life.
Shigenori was gone, but for Kotaro, one loose end remained. Without an answer to that question—if he didn’t at least try to get an answer—he couldn’t go back to his own life.

“Seigo?” They were alone on the roof. He probably wouldn’t have another chance like this.

“What?” Seigo glanced over his shoulder. From his expression, he seemed to have guessed what Kotaro was about to ask. He turned and looked off into the distance again.

“That woman, Keiko Tashiro—”

“Whereabouts unknown. Still.”

“You two had a relationship, didn’t you?”

Seigo had lost a lot of weight. Ayuko’s death had deprived him of a vital part of his life. It was as if part of him had been cut away, leaving him small and diminished.

He’d never be the same again. The thought made Kotaro’s throat tighten with grief, but he pushed on. “You weren’t just friends, were you?”

It’s yes or no. There are no other answers. You’ll either face the challenge or run away.
But Seigo didn’t follow the script.

“I’m certain Ayuko didn’t know. It was my fault. I never wanted to hurt her, though. I made sure she’d never find out. It was a one-time slip, it didn’t last long. Afterward I felt like an idiot.”

He finally turned around and made eye contact with Kotaro. “But that’s no excuse. What she did was because of her relationship with me.”

“The possibility occurred to me too.”

“I see.”

“But I don’t see it that way now.”

Seigo’s mouth twitched for an instant. “Okay,” he said. “But I’m not going to change how I feel. Once you lose something, it’s gone forever.”

“Sure. Sorry, that was a little rude.”

“When did you notice? At the wake? She was there.”

“I don’t remember.”

“You’re not the only one. This kind of thing always gets out. I told the cops everything. I want you to know that.”

“Okay,” Kotaro said.

Seigo turned and headed toward the stairs. “I brought your pay slip,” he called over his shoulder. “It’s by your bed.”

“Thanks, Seigo.”

Seigo opened the door to the stairs. Another friend was leaving him, but this time Kotaro spoke up.

“Hey, Seigo! Okay if I come to work again?”

Seigo stuck his head around the door. “Tokyo office closes at the end of the year.”

“Then I’ll work till the end of the year.”

“Got it. Give Maeda a ring. We’ll get you a shift.”

He disappeared down the stairs. Kotaro heard his footsteps dying away on the metal steps.

“Hey, dummy.”

He turned toward the sound of a girl’s voice. She stepped out from behind the line of white sheets fluttering in the wind on a clothesline.

“Did you really need to ask him about that? Why does it matter now?”

She was outfitted in her standard black, looking good as always. It was positively annoying.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Kotaro said. “That’s why it was okay to ask. I doubt you’d understand, though, seeing as how you’re still so green that Ash has to scold you all the time.”

U-ri the wolf was not thrilled by this statement. She frowned. “That’s not very nice.”

“I hear you’re not strong enough to go places like the ones I went with Galla.”

“Well, it’s not like you went there on your own, is it?”

He smiled. They leaned against the fence side by side. “I wonder if I saw your brother in the Nameless Land.”

U-ri turned to look at him. She sighed softly. “My brother isn’t there. Not as an individual person,” she said with great gentleness. In a way, Kotaro felt her tone was meant for him as well as her brother. “You met the nameless devout. You only met emptiness. They aren’t anybody specific.”

“Oh. I see.”

“It’s great that you made it back.”

“Thanks.” Kotaro meant it, but U-ri shook her head.

“I didn’t have anything to do with it. I couldn’t do anything. The power of your story brought you back. That’s where you should send your gratitude.”

“Yeah. As soon as I’m out of here, I’ll go see her.”

When he was unconscious in the intensive care unit, dozens of voice messages and a mountain of mails had piled up on his mobile phone. The Nagasaki siblings topped the list. As soon as he was able, Kotaro had gotten in touch with Hatsuko and apologized for causing her worry.

“My heart almost stopped when I saw the news,” she said. “Mana is worried sick about you too.”

“When I’m better, I’m going to bring the world’s sweetest little girl the world’s sweetest cream puffs,” he said to U-ri.

U-ri giggled. “Head over heels, eh?”

Her cheerful response struck home. Something hard and unyielding seemed to give way in Kotaro’s heart.

“I ignored your warning. I just made one mistake after another. I can’t change anything. I can’t go back and fix anything.”

U-ri didn’t answer. He felt her slipping away.

“If you’re looking for somebody to comfort you and tell you things aren’t that bad, you won’t get it from me. Goodbye, Kotaro.”

“Hey, wait!”

She was already gone. “Thanks a lot! Why did you bother to even come?”

He wanted her to tell him. It was something he couldn’t ask anyone else. But he could ask her. He could cry like a wimp and cling to her and ask her.

“What do I do now?”

Just live. Live, live, live.

He looked out at the city spread below him. At reality. At the world.

This was the Circle, where stories never end, where the cycle of life rolls on, where prayers are answered, where cries of grief echoe.

You are a child of the Circle. Live.

He tarried on the roof for a long time. Finally—

“I am sorry.”

He said it aloud. “I am sorry.”

Somewhere inside and beneath the whisper of the wind, he thought he heard singing—or was it an incantation? The nameless devout. And on the wind, the scent of night dew and dry spring grass.

He gazed up at the Gate of Sorrows in that far-off land at the edge of the Circle. A gate guarded by something that once had been Galla.

I will live.

During the research for this book, I received valuable assistance from the staff of Pitcrew Co., Ltd. as well as the Social Affairs Desk of the Mainichi Newspapers, Tokyo Headquarters. To the extent that the events depicted herein reflect contemporary social conditions, it is thanks to the efforts of everyone who was kind enough to assist me. For this I would like to extend my sincere gratitude.

Miyuki Miyabe
January 2015

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