Burned and soaked to the skin, Mitsuhiro pushed his way through the crowd at Shibuya Station and reached the soundproof wall surrounding the construction site. He opened the number lock and invited Yoshikazu Hara inside.
Amid the water pouring down into the semi-demolished old East Wing, he chose the shortest route to the ritual hall without even stopping by the office. At the bottom of that temporary stairway, he came to the wall with that now-familiar character on it.
鎭
Shining his phone light on this glyph written in ash, Mitsuhiro had a strange, complex feeling of déjà vu. He had first lost sight of Yoshikazu Hara in this area, and now it felt like he was retracing the events that had first led him here—right up to being rescued by a third party while surrounded by fire and smoke. On the other hand, fragments of memories of doing the same thing over and over again also flashed through his mind. How many times had he come here? And how many times had he descended the stairs that started at this wall, with someone he believed to be Yoshikazu Hara?
Mitsuhiro illuminated the man behind him with his phone, clutching the stone and amulet in his pocket. He feared the man might suddenly transform into a stranger, but Yoshikazu Hara remained Yoshikazu Hara. However, he was dazed, staring at the floor in confusion.
“Ohh? Wait, was this the place? I was told we were going to dig a hole in the ground.”
Mitsuhiro didn’t know much about Yoshikazu Hara’s illness, but he was starting to not make sense again. Mitsuhiro feared that he might even disappear for the second time. Without the more reliable Chief Sugawara around, if Yoshikazu Hara started to get disoriented, Mitsuhiro would have no choice but to go it alone. But how would he know if he was still sane? Would he lose his mind again? His concern for Sae’s safety, which he had managed to hold in check until now, suddenly ballooned to the verge of panic.
He wanted help. He wanted someone, anyone, who could help him out.
Hang in there.
The voice echoed loudly in his head. Mitsuhiro clutched the contents of his pocket tightly. No one was coming. He didn’t have time to explain the situation to anyone. He couldn’t waste any time getting to the basement. Mitsuhiro took a deep breath, summoned his resolve, took his hand out of his pocket, and grabbed Yoshikazu Hara’s wrist.
“I’ll take you there. Follow me. If you get lost, call for Matsunaga.”
“Ahh, is he the foreman here?”
“Yes. Matsunaga. Let’s go.”
Mitsuhiro tugged the man’s wrist, a little forcefully, and started down the long stairs leading to the ritual hall.
The staircase, illuminated by the light of his cell phone, gave him an even stronger sense of déjà vu. The accumulation of white, powdery ash dancing around his lower legs was something he had seen countless times before. The echoing footsteps, and the strange odor that hung in the dry air, could even be called familiar by now.
Mitsuhiro prayed breathing the air here wouldn’t cloud his mind again. With his phone in his right hand and Yoshikazu Hara’s hand in his left, he had nothing to cover his mouth with. A silent voice in his head, preying upon this anxiety, told him to go back to the office and borrow a helmet and dust mask.
Hang in there.
But he didn’t think he should. Maybe it’d happen going back to the stairs, maybe when he was filling out items, names, and dates on the equipment loan record at the office—he had a feeling the somewhere along the line, he’d lose sight of Yoshikazu Hara again. Or maybe the fire would come back, and he’d be engulfed in smoke.
That won’t happen. Go back now. It’ll be safer to turn back.
No, don’t. Get Yoshikazu Hara to where he belongs as quickly as possible. And make sure Sae is there. Make sure this really was all Araki’s doing.
It’s a waste of time. You don’t even know if Sae’s there. Miyoko has to be worried. Go back to the surface and call her.
Hang in there.
No, don’t go back. Don’t stop. Keep going down.
Don’t go down there. Go back. Don’t bring that man there.
I gotta take him there right now. The real mi-keshi of the water god.
Suddenly, the stairs ended. At the bottom, he shone his light down the passage, confirming that the door at the end was open. The ground was dimly lit by a faint orange light. Light from the ritual hall. Someone was there.
He’d been afraid the passcode on the door might’ve been changed, but he realized now that maybe Araki couldn’t close the door in the first place. If he was trying to release the ashes, he had to keep it open. That was how the ash broke the seal.
“It’s right there, Mr. Hara. That’s the site.”
“Yeah, it sure looks familiar.”
“You’ll remember more once you go in, I’m sure.”
Still holding Yoshikazu Hara’s wrist tightly, Mitsuhiro entered the ritual hall.
In the corner to the right of the square hole, a small figure lay trembling.
It was Sae. Even in the dim light, even from a distance, even amid the dry, acrid smell, he recognized her instantly.
“Sae!”
Without letting go of Yoshikazu Hara’s wrist, Mitsuhiro put his phone in his jacket pocket and hurried toward his daughter.
“Whoa, what’s the rush?”
He could feel Yoshikazu Hara stagger a bit, but he managed to keep his balance.
Araki was nowhere to be seen, and Mitsuhiro proceeded with caution. He glanced into the hole, but Araki wasn’t there. He wondered if Araki had followed them down the stairs, gleefully waiting to close the door behind them once they were in the hall, but there was no sign of anyone else.
As he got closer to his daughter, he could see the state she was in more clearly. She was convulsing and arching her back, exactly the same as when she had become “dehydrated” that night. Mitsuhiro was overcome with a dread that made the blood in his veins run cold, but he desperately resisted the urge to let go of Yoshikazu Hara and run up to her. His senses were warning him that Sae would fall into the hole if he didn’t do something, but he never let go of Yoshikazu Hara.