—Water.
The thought came to a half-asleep Mitsuhiro as he watched the pale morning light gather under the curtains. He remembered how his father had wanted to live near water, back when he was alive, and how they had moved to the house his mother still called home. He felt he should give this some closer thought, but he didn’t know why.
He sat up and looked at the clock. It was seven in the morning. The sluggishness had mostly disappeared. That was probably thanks to the long bath he took last night—the first in a long time—along with a good night’s sleep, free of anxiety or apprehension. Or perhaps it was thanks to the handkerchief and stone he had placed on the side table. Mitsuhiro picked them up in his right hand and went to the bathroom.
He frowned when he saw that the character written in blood on the mirror was gone. Had the things haunting him erased it? He thought they might have, but upon closer inspection, the character 鎭 remained faintly visible on the mirror’s surface, only if you were looking for it.
Maybe the blood had just seeped into the mirror itself. Or maybe he was just imagining that the character was there. The blood he thought he had smeared on the mirror last night might’ve been nothing more than a hallucination. Mitsuhiro looked at his left hand again. He couldn’t see any wound that could’ve created enough blood to write such a complex character.
Unable to figure it out, he pushed the writing on the mirror out of his mind, placed the handkerchief and stone nearby, and washed his face. While brushing his teeth, he thought about looking for the rest of the stone he had dropped into the pond in the Imperial Garden, but he had a vague yet firm belief that he’d probably never find it.
—It’s already been offered to the water god. Only the water god knows where it is. Just like Yoshikazu Hara.
Convinced of this, he finished brushing and wiped his mouth with a towel. When he met his own gaze in the mirror, he was surprised at the sight of his own determination. He felt a new, firm conviction that this was the answer after all.
Yoshikazu Hara was the water god’s mi-keshi. Araki had said so himself. He worried that instead of inviting the water god to the ritual hall, the mi-keshi had been invited to the water god instead.
A map popped into his head. There were several places within walking distance of the Imperial Garden where homeless people tended to sleep. Yoyogi Park, where Yoshikazu Hara had been, was also in range.
And there you had it. Yoshikazu Hara wasn’t in Shibuya at all. Mitsuhiro had been wandering around the wrong place all this time.
There were still several hours until the eleven o’clock appointment with Chief Sugawara and Araki. Enough time to go to Shinjuku, then make a quick return to Shibuya. Mitsuhiro got ready, dressed as he would for work, ate a quick breakfast, and checked the map on his phone to figure out which route to take.
He put the stone and handkerchief in his breast pocket, grabbed his briefcase, and left the house. The heavy rain encouraged him to return for an umbrella before heading to the station.
This rain was just like when he first went to investigate the East Wing, he mused as he bought a bottle of spring water at the convenience store and boarded the train. After transferring to the subway at Shibuya and getting off at Shinjuku, he headed off through the downpour toward the first site he’d hit.
This was within the boundaries of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building, the complex of buildings that served as Tokyo’s city hall. Support groups and volunteers provided meals here; over the New Year’s holiday, they also set up centers where those in need could meet a counselor and get whatever help they needed to improve their lives.
According to research data, the overwhelming majority of Tokyo’s homeless slept in parks, followed by the covered areas underneath overpasses. There were plenty of both around city hall, which led to large numbers of tents and cardboard homes in the area at one point. Most of those were gone now, taken away as part of the Tokyo government’s campaign against homelessness, and the number of sleepers in Shinjuku Central Park had gone drastically down.
But they hadn’t completely disappeared. When Mitsuhiro detoured over to a large underpass, there were still people squatting in the vicinity. Along the walkway between the assorted city hall buildings, there were around twenty tents of various kinds.
“Yoshikazu Hara? Is Yoshikazu Hara around here?”
Mitsuhiro carried his folded umbrella and bag and called out to everyone he saw. If he didn’t find him here, he planned to look around Shinjuku Central Park, then head south toward Minami-Shinjuku, cross the railroad tracks, and visit as many scattered locations as possible around the Imperial Garden. If he’d still had the company car, he could also have checked out Toyama Park near Takadanobaba and Yoyogi Park as well, but that was impossible on foot. He had already ruled out Kabukicho and Okubo Park; the former was mostly filled with young drifters, not the elderly, and the latter had a counseling center for homeless women, making it less popular with men.
Saturdays like this one were when volunteers distributed lunches and provided legal and medical consultation services to the homeless in front of city hall. If Yoshikazu Hara was in the neighborhood, there was a good chance he’d be there for the food.
When Mitsuhiro arrived in front of the building, there were about fifty men and women who appeared to be homeless or on welfare. He approached them, hoping against hope.
“Is Yoshikazu Hara here?”
Suddenly, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around with anticipation and saw a man in his sixties holding a boxed lunch.
“If you’re looking for Hara, I think he’s over there.”
Mitsuhiro didn’t know if this man was one of Yoshikazu Hara’s homeless friends or if they had worked together, but he squinted in the direction the man was pointing.
“Thank you very much. I appreciate it.”
Mitsuhiro’s heart swelled with expectation. He quickly headed in the direction he had been told.
“Yoshikazu Hara? Is Yoshikazu Hara here?”
A man sitting on a piece of cardboard on the street looked up in surprise. “Uh? What is it? You looking for me?”
Hearing a familiar voice, Mitsuhiro stopped in his tracks and stared intently at the man standing a few feet away. He held his umbrella and bag in his right hand and placed his left hand on his shirt pocket to check for the stone inside.
It was Yoshikazu Hara. The water god’s mi-keshi was looking up at him with a half-eaten lunch in his hands.
“I’ve been looking for you… Yoshikazu Hara… I’m Matsunaga from Shimaoka.”
He approached the befuddled-looking man and bent down to speak to him.
“I’ve been looking for you ever since you left the East Wing site.”
Now Yoshikazu Hara’s eyes widened, welling with tears. “I—I don’t know where anything is around here. I try to come back every single day, but for some reason, I always end up here. My wife, you know… I have to put my wife in a nursing home.”
“Megumi Hara? Yes, yes, she’s doing very well.” Mitsuhiro’s voice trembled. He wiped away some tears of his own as he sat down next to the man, not even caring how he smelled.
“She is? My wife’s well? Oh… That’s great. I was so worried.” Yoshikazu Hara wiped his eyes.
“Listen, you were performing your duties at the ritual hall in the East Wing, and I interrupted you by accident.”
“Ahh, yeah, you. You’re from that time…”
“I didn’t know what I was doing. I was way out of line. I’m really sorry about this.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. Just bring me back; that’s all I ask. You’ll do that, right?”
“Yes, of course, I’ll be with you the whole way back.”
“Oh, right, right. Here. I’ve been holding on to this.”
Yoshikazu Hara rummaged in his pants pocket and handed Mitsuhiro a folded plastic bag. Wondering what it was, Mitsuhiro took it and found a piece of cloth inside—the handkerchief that Miyoko and Sae had given him on Father’s Day. He had given this to Yoshikazu Hara on the day he freed him from the hole, and now it was back with him. This was the Yoshikazu Hara. He had finally picked the right person.
“Thank you very much.” Mitsuhiro clutched the handkerchief, pressing it to his forehead in gratitude.
“I’m sorry it took so long to give it back. We leavin’ now, or?”
“No, no, you can finish your lunch first.”
“Okay. I’ll be quick.”
While Yoshikazu Hara ate his meal, Mitsuhiro took out his phone and made a call.
“This is Sugawara.”
“Hi, it’s Matsunaga again. Sorry to call so early. I’m in front of Tokyo City Hall right now, and I finally found Yoshikazu Hara, the man from the ritual hall.”
“Ah, I see… Very interesting timing. Right after you obtained your own father’s belongings?”
“Yeah. So it’s a bit early, but I’m gonna use a train or taxi to take him over to the site.”
“Let me come pick you up.”
“What? You’re coming yourself?”
“I was planning to leave early anyway, just to see if the rain was causing any construction issues. I can be there in about twenty minutes. Would that work?”
“Yes, of course. Thank you very much.”
He explained that he was in front of Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building No. 1 as Yoshikazu Hara silently looked on.
“The site leader’s coming to pick you up,” Mitsuhiro said once he was off the phone.
“Oooh, the Chief? He’ll hate it if I get in his car in this state.”
“Then let’s go to a convenience store and get you some new clothes.”
“Oh, no, you don’t have to go this far for me…”
After lunch (and some more persuasion), he went with Yoshikazu Hara to a convenience store in the city hall building. There, he brought him some razors, a toothbrush, a pair of underwear, a shirt, and a raincoat. They didn’t have any jackets or pants; instead, Yoshikazu Hara asked for a raincoat so he wouldn’t get the car dirty.
While waiting for Yoshikazu Hara to change in the restroom, Mitsuhiro’s phone rang. He thought it might be Chief Sugawara arriving early, but it was Miyoko. He wondered if he should talk to her now, but he didn’t want her to think he was ignoring her, so he picked up.
“Miyoko? I’m sorry about yesterday…”
“Hey, did you go to the school?”
Her tone was brisk. She was clearly questioning him.
“What? School?”
“The weather forecast said the rain’s gonna get even worse, so they sent everyone home early. Did you go pick her up or not?”
“What are you talking about? It’s Saturday— Oh! They have class on the first Saturday of the month, don’t they?”
“So it wasn’t you who took her?!”