His mind rewarded this train of thought with an image of his family huddled together at the bottom of the hole, trembling with fear, and he swiftly pushed it away. For now, he had to force himself to forget about the wallpaper and the repair costs, as well as the money he’d spent on that amulet. There was work to be done and breakfast to cook.
He sat Sae down at the table and put his phone on speaker mode so she could talk to Miyoko. This, too, had become the routine, and Sae visibly brightened as she enjoyed her fried egg and juice.
“Something scary came out in here,” she complained to her mother. “I went out of the bathroom, and there it was.”
“A stain on the wall? Well, that’s no good. It’s not just a leak?”
There was a slight hint of anxiety in Miyoko’s voice.
“Probably. We should tell the condo manager. Are you feeling better?”
“I’ll be fine soon. You see? I feel better when I’m not around that horrible smell all the time.”
“Oh,” Mitsuhiro replied. He wanted to be honest and tell her that he sure didn’t smell anything, but getting in a phone argument with his pregnant wife when she was under the weather would benefit neither party. His father would probably see it differently, though—but given the important work Mitsuhiro had to do, even Dad would understand that family strife had to be kept to a minimum.
“I’ll do something about the smell. You think you’ll be back today?”
“I should be. The tests all came back fine. I just hope I don’t get sick again.”
“Are you sick, Mommy?” Sae asked with concern.
“No, not sick,” came the cheerful reply. “I’m doing great. I’ll be home real soon, okay?”
“Okay!”
In another few minutes, Mitsuhiro left the condo with Sae. He waved goodbye to her on the sidewalk, turned around, and returned to the lobby, where he pressed the intercom button for the manager’s office. The door opened, and an elderly man appeared. Before Mitsuhiro could ask him about the water leak, the man’s eyes widened.
“Ah, Mr. Matsunaga, just who I wanted to see. I have something I need to talk to you about.”
“What’s that?”
“The trash. You can’t go throwing away something like this. Just one second.”
The man went back inside, then returned with something wrapped in newspaper.
Mitsuhiro knew immediately what it was: the gravestone. A piece of his father’s gravestone. He was stunned. He had thrown it away last night. Yes, if he’d just tossed it on the pile, someone would have complained, but he had wrapped it in newspaper and everything. It should have looked like normal garbage, really.
“The garbage collector told me this had torn through the bag,” the man said, pressing the newspaper-wrapped object into his hands.
“Torn through…?”
“Yeah, he said it almost cut him! And those of us in the office are the ones who take the heat for these things. It’s in the rules—if it’s over two feet long, you gotta break it into smaller pieces and put it out as non-combustible garbage. Okay? And write something like ‘Danger—sharp’ on the outside, like you would with a knife. Really, if this is some kinda stonework, you should really have someone in that field pick it up for you.”
Mitsuhiro wanted to ask how they knew it was his trash to begin with. Presumably, it was because he’d thrown it away with the envelope the amulet came in, which included his name and address. He was embarrassed to think that someone had gone through his trash, violating his privacy—even though he knew it was all his fault. Being lectured at length in the lobby while other residents were passing by on their way out made him even more uncomfortable.
So Mitsuhiro apologized profusely, changed the topic, received a promise that they’d check for a water leak in the floor above, and returned to his condo. He didn’t even think about putting that stone wrapped in newspaper in his bag and going to work. It’d be a heavy load, and he didn’t want his father to scream at him.
He put his bag on the floor at the entrance, opened the storage closet in the hallway, took a hammer out from the toolbox, went to the kitchen, and placed the newspaper-wrapped stone on the cutting board. The manager had told him to break it into small pieces, and he was ready to follow orders.
Steadying it with his left hand, he swung the hammer down. There was a loud bang, but he didn’t feel the stone break inside the newspaper. He struck it several more times, but the stone inside didn’t budge. He assumed smashing it with a hammer would break it into three or four more pieces, easy. It already broke once—why wasn’t it willing to break further for him?
Mitsuhiro judged that it wasn’t breaking because he had laid it flat, so he placed a knife-sharpening stone on the cutting board, set the piece of gravestone upright on it, and pressed down firmly with his left hand. This way, he could focus the hammer impact on one spot. Impatient and afraid he was going to be late for work, he swung the hammer down with all his might.
A sharp pain shot through his left hand, and Mitsuhiro grunted and stepped back. The stone did not break. In fact, the impact had caused it to bounce up, piercing through the layers of newspaper and making a gash across his left palm.
He scowled, threw the hammer on the cutting board, and put his left hand in the sink to prevent the blood from splattering all over the floor. As it dripped down to the bottom of the sink, he reached out with his right hand, tore off a piece of paper towel, and pressed it against his left hand to stop the bleeding. Fortunately, the wound didn’t seem too deep, but the pain further provoked his anger. He glared at the tip of the stone protruding from the newspaper, ready to rant and rave and complain about why he had to deal with all of this.
“What am I gonna do with you, Mitsuhiro?”
His father suddenly spoke from beside him. He wanted to acknowledge the effort, but he couldn’t hide his amusement at his son’s clumsiness.
“But…it won’t break. It’s too hard to do anything to it.”
“Then ask someone who can do something with it.”
“Like who?”
The first face that came to mind was Sota Araki. There was no one else he could turn to. But he really didn’t want to count on him, if he could help it.
“I don’t know how much they’ll charge me.”
“Don’t you think the wall might’ve gotten stained because of that thing? Maybe the ashes were trying to punish you a little because they hate that stone. Hey, stop looking so pathetic! You’re a grown man. Go get your hand patched up. And be careful not to touch that stone when you take it with you.”
“Can’t I just leave it somewhere?”
“No. You can’t leave it in this house. That’s out of the question.”
Mitsuhiro didn’t want his father yelling at him, so he reluctantly did what he was told. The bleeding had stopped now, so he took some alcohol and gauze out from the first aid kit. The pain wasn’t that bad anymore. In the end, it wasn’t much worse than a paper cut.
He had used quite a bit of newspaper to cover the wall, but there was still some left. He folded up a new piece and covered the part where the stone was sticking out, securing it with tape. After stuffing it into his bag, he looked at the clock on the wall. It was past eight thirty.
Great. He was beyond late, and he hadn’t thought about the morning meeting yet. He hadn’t even received a notification about whether there was a meeting or not. He was all but removed from the team now, he supposed, but he had a reason to show up on time. He wanted to use the company car, even if he had to get retroactive approval for it later. But Takenaka had probably put an end to that by now. He was sure he’d never be allowed to touch that car again.
He had no choice but to rent one. The thought of the expense made him feel sick, but he just had to accept it. That was what Mitsuhiro told himself as he left home again.