Araki repeated it back to him, his voice betraying his disbelief. Mitsuhiro explained that part of his father’s stone had cracked, and his mother had asked him to dispose of it in the ritualistically proper way.
“Yes, stone-purification rituals do happen sometimes. Earthquakes can cause gravestones to topple and crack, or the heads of the shrine guardian dogs can come off.”
“All right, but…will it cost me?”
“Well, being related to mourning, this is known as tamagushi-ryo or onsakaki-ryo—that’s the name for offering a branch from a sacred tree to the gods. I’ll need to discuss it with the previous president, but based on what you’ve told me, it shouldn’t be too expensive if it’s only part of the grave. I think it’ll likely be about the same amount as the amulet I mentioned.”
Now the dizziness was accompanied by nausea and chills. He was asking for one million yen in total, and he called it “not too expensive.” He was taking advantage of Mitsuhiro’s predicament to extort as much as he could, wasn’t he?
“But that being said, please don’t push yourself too hard over this,” Araki said, seemingly reading Mitsuhiro’s thoughts. “I don’t know why you need such an amulet, but perhaps that piece of grave is causing the problem. Why not have it purified first, and then we can decide whether the amulet is necessary?”
It was unsettling in a way. First, that stone was delivered, and then that stain showed up. But the prospect of a half-price deal gave him a glimmer of hope, even if the total was still twice his initial purchase.
“All right, let’s go with that, please. I have the stone with me, and I’d like to hand it over as soon as possible.”
“Certainly. I’ll go over the purification ritual with my predecessor. How about we meet at the same place in half an hour?”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
After the call ended, a groan escaped his lips. He couldn’t tell if he was relieved or terrified of what was to come. Five hundred thousand yen. He prayed with all his heart that this would solve the problem as he turned off the engine and stepped outside. He walked to the nearest bank ATM, withdrew half a million yen, and put it in an envelope. It felt like sawing part of his body off, and he felt dizzy. The thought that he might have to withdraw the same amount all over again later on made it hard to move away from the machine.
It’s to protect my home, Mitsuhiro told himself. He had to protect his home in order to keep his very, very important job. Miyoko would eventually find out about this, but he knew she’d understand.
He put the envelope in his jacket pocket. His left hand began to throb again, as if it was telling him to deposit the money back. Was his own left hand accusing him of making a mistake? It wasn’t even a serious injury. Mitsuhiro squeezed it in anger, willing the pain away.
After returning to the parking lot, he sped off and reached the construction site in less than five minutes. While waiting for Araki, he checked the map app on his phone to find Yoyogi Park and the surrounding areas where Yoshikazu Hara had been seen. He thought the man stuck around Shibuya Station; Yoyogi was unexpected. Maybe he was wandering around more. Maybe the dementia kept him from remembering where his sleeping spot was.
Once this gravestone thing was cleared up, Mitsuhiro would have to expand his soup-kitchen search. Did he really need to go all the way to Shinjuku? Okuyama knew too many people around Yoyogi and Shibuya. Maybe hitting up other support groups, and the soup kitchens they ran, was his best bet in hunting down Yoshikazu Hara.
“Expanding the search area is fine and all,” his father said from behind, “but you should also think about better ways to deal with this whole situation.”
He didn’t understand what “deal with” meant at first.
“What do you mean? What do you want me to do?”
“If this Okuyama guy’s gonna get in our way, we have to deal with him properly. It’s easy. Just show him where Yoshikazu Hara needs to be taken.”
And then we’ll throw him in the hole, and Okuyama will finally shut up. Now Mitsuhiro understood what his father meant. He had no resistance to that idea either. There was no other choice. The only way to convince Okuyama was to do as his father said.
Just as he was vividly imagining Okuyama falling from the edge of the hole, there was a sudden knock on the window. When he looked up, Araki was there, standing on the passenger side.
“Ah, come in.”
Mitsuhiro reached out and opened the door, moving the bag that was sitting there onto his lap. Araki bowed his head, got into the seat, and closed the door.
“Thank you. Regarding what we discussed on the phone, I confirmed with the previous president how to purify the piece, and he said it’d be best to offer it to a deity that has already been appeased.”
“Offer it…?”
“Yes. Would you be able to drive us to Shinjuku in this car?”
“Oh, no problem.”
“There’s a good spot at the Shinjuku Imperial Garden. The purification itself won’t take long.”
“Okay. We can head out right now—”
“Well, before I look at the item to be purified, I’ll need to ask for my tamagushi-ryo. Is that all right?”
“Um, yes… How much was it?”
“I checked with the previous president, and he said five hundred thousand yen would be fine.”
Araki spoke like this was actually a big discount. Mitsuhiro nodded, clenching his jaw to keep from grimacing in front of Araki.