Mitsuhiro had received messages from both the Twitter user and Tamai Construction at the same time. Was that a coincidence? Or was there some connection here? He wondered if he should call Araki back right away, but he decided to put it off until later.
So he got off the train at Shibuya Station, finding it choked with the crowds. People in business attire going home and people going out to enjoy the city were rushing around the platforms, trying to avoid each other. Mitsuhiro hurried out of the station, careful not to bump into anyone, and headed straight for the parking lot with his company car. He got into the car, glad he hadn’t returned the keys, and wondered if he’d be written up for going out at night with it. Considering the situation, though, he was sure they’d understand. If he missed this chance, it’d be back to aimlessly patrolling the streets tomorrow.
Mitsuhiro drove out of the station, navigated the narrow, twisty side streets of Shibuya, and came out onto the main road. He turned left in front of the station onto Meiji-dori Avenue and stopped at the side of the road near Jingu-dori Park, turning on his hazard lights.
He got out of the car, locked it, and checked the time on his phone. It had been a bit over thirty minutes since he last exchanged messages with Mole Unit-01. No new messages had come in.
I’m here at Jingu-dori Park. Where are you?
He sent the message as he followed the railroad tracks toward the park.
The tracks between here and Shibuya Station were lined with parks and bicycle lots on one side; on the other side, there were lines of tiny eateries that could only hold a few customers at a time. The whole area, including the overpasses in the vicinity, was known as a gathering place for homeless people, with several blue-tarp tent houses lined up in the darker alleys.
The park where Mitsuhiro was headed was similarly lined with cardboard signs and plywood boards, painted with slogans like “NO EVICTION” and “HOMELESS RIGHTS” and “STOP REDEVELOPMENT!” on them and attached with wire to the park fencing. From where he stood, he could vaguely make out people standing in the shadows here and there.
The people in the park would have been able to see Mitsuhiro clearly as he entered. He stood at the entrance, but no one approached him. He didn’t approach any of them, either; he didn’t want any unnecessary conflict.
Was it the next park over, maybe? The long, narrow park was divided in half by a building in between. There was a public restroom in this half, so that made it a more likely place to stay, but he wasn’t sure. He checked the messages again.
I’m sitting on a bench.
Mitsuhiro glanced at the benches, but there was no one who seemed to be looking at a phone. He left the park and headed for the one next door. As he walked along the side of this long, thin park area, he saw a faint light coming from a bench at the far end, near the railroad tracks.
Mitsuhiro entered the park and approached the person looking down at his phone.
“I’m the one who messaged you.”
When the person slowly looked up, Mitsuhiro was so surprised that he blankly stared in amazement. Yoshikazu Hara was sitting on the bench.
“Are you the one who tweeted about the East Wing?”
The man on the bench looked puzzled. “Ah, yes… Have we met before?”
“In that hole…”
Mitsuhiro stopped himself, remembering that Yoshikazu Hara had dementia. Instead of explaining everything over again, he opted to get to the point.
“Yes, we have met. In fact, I’ve been trying to find you. Um, my car is over there. If you could come with me…”
“You have somewhere I could sleep? Everywhere here is taken. If I go anywhere else, the locals get angry and kick me out. My mom keeps nagging me, but I’m just so tired…”
“I’ll find somewhere. We’ll ask Helping Hands. Come on, let’s get in the car first.”
Mitsuhiro wanted to pull him up by the hand, but Okuyama from Helping Hands had expressly warned him against that sort of thing, so he had to rely on words. Fortunately for him, the man stood up immediately and followed quietly. It was summer, and the body odor was overwhelming, but Mitsuhiro pretended not to mind.
When they returned to the car, he unlocked the door and opened the passenger side.
“You can take the passenger seat.”
The man sat as instructed. He seemed genuinely exhausted, collapsing into the seat with a thud.
“I’ll close the door for you.”
Once he did, Mitsuhiro got into the driver’s seat. He tried to start a conversation, but the smell made it hard to breathe, so he reflexively opened the window. “Pretty hot night out,” he said, trying to make an excuse for it, but the other man just stared blankly at the windshield, not caring much either way.
“Let me ask you a few questions. Is it okay if I get this on video? I want to record our conversation.”
“Eh? Oh, sure. Whatever you want. I don’t care. I just wanna sleep.”
Mitsuhiro turned his phone camera on and started filming.
“Now, um, I want to confirm something. Was everything in the East Wing your own decision?”
“Huh?”
“Did you go to the East Wing on your own?”
“Ahh, yeah. They gave me the job.”
“You weren’t forced to by Tamai Construction?”
“Forced? Huh? Oh, you mean the electrical work in that hole?”
“What?”
“I was doing electrical work. The lights weren’t workin’ anymore. Too old.”
“Okay, so you were doing electrical work. You went to that hole on your own—”
“Ahhh…”
Suddenly, the man let out a painful-sounding groan, bowed his head, and looked downward.
“It’s all ’cause of that hole. Fire keeps comin’ out of it. Everyone’s been sayin’ that this whole time. They tried exorcism after exorcism, but it keeps happening. They’ve all gone crazy, and there are so many construction mistakes that the electricity doesn’t even work properly anymore. Taking apart the piles, lowering them down… Hell, getting them set up takes over a month by itself. I just don’t wanna do this anymore. Just let me go!”
“Were you forced to perform work you didn’t want to do?”
“I asked to do it. Of course I did. It was good pay. But I never thought I’d end up like this…”
With that, the man began to sob quietly.
Mitsuhiro felt sorry for him, but he was relieved to hear there were no discrepancies with Tamai Construction’s claims. Yoshikazu Hara had gone down into that hole of his own volition. He had probably helped install the lighting and bring in the pile driver and so on. The “construction mistakes” he kept bringing up only concerned the ritual hall with that hole in it.
Mitsuhiro certainly didn’t expect to kill two birds—Yoshikazu Hara and the Twitter poster—with one stone. He stopped filming, feeling very proud of himself.
“All right,” he told the sobbing man. “I’m going to make a phone call so I can find you a place to sleep.”
He got out of the car. The smell inside was so strong that he relished the fresh air. But as he was about to call Helping Hands to fulfill his promise to the man, he received a call from an unknown number. It might be Sota Araki from Tamai Construction; he’d left a voice message earlier. He was…the general manager, right?
Mitsuhiro was done interviewing Yoshikazu Hara for the moment, so he casually answered the call.
“Hello, Matsunaga speaking.”
“I’m sorry to bother you. This is Araki from Tamai Construction. I left a message in your voicemail earlier.”
“Ah, yes, sorry I didn’t call you back sooner. I was busy with something else. So, how can I help you?”
“Well…I got a call from Yoshikazu Hara.”
“Huh? A call?”
“Yes. He’s definitely somewhere in Shibuya, but I think his illness has left him a little befuddled. We’re looking for him at the moment, but I thought you might have heard from him.”
“Oh, um, right. As a matter of fact, I’m with Yoshikazu Hara right now.”
“You are?”
“Yeah. I was about to call Helping Hands and ask them to help find a place for him to sleep.”
“Okay. We can definitely provide that for him. We haven’t even paid him half of the mi-keshi fee yet. If the ritual’s left unfinished, it might curse all of us. Would you mind bringing Mr. Hara to the ritual hall in the East Wing? I’ll contact the on-site staff and let them know. I’ll head right over there, too.”
Mitsuhiro hesitated for a moment. But if Yoshikazu Hara wanted this job, maybe it’d be best to hand him over to Tamai Construction and settle this matter for good.
“All right. I’m in the neighborhood, so I’ll be right there.”
“Thank you very much. Goodbye for now.”
Mitsuhiro hung up the phone, feeling refreshed, and returned to the driver’s seat.
“Okay, Tamai Construction will provide a place for you to sleep. They said they’ll pay you as well.”
“Huh? What? Why?”
“Because they only paid you half of it so far. There’s still work left to do, too.”
“Ehh? I thought it was done. Ugh, that’s all I need…”
“Well, I think it’s better to finish it all up, okay? You’ll get paid for it.”
“Ahh, are you kidding me…?”
“And the guy from Tamai Construction said they’ll make sure that nobody gets cursed, too.”
“They’ll do something about all of this?”
“Yes. Probably. I think so.”