A small truck-mounted crane was jolting up and down like a bird sipping at water as it snagged the end of the net encasing the giant ear, plucking it up into the air. The flatbed waiting underneath backed into position as the springy ear flopped down onto the cushioning material that’d been laid out in advance.
“Seems like they know what they’re doing.”
As Miyaki and I stood to the side, smiling uncomfortably and covered in dust, I caught sight of a man in his late middle age stepping over some of the yellow and black barricade tape surrounding the scene as he hurried our way.
“That must have been a shock for you… This sort of thing happens sometimes. I mean, not that it’s normal or anything, but well, it’s hard to explain to folks who aren’t from around here…”
The way he wiped the sweat from his forehead and the vinyl jacket he wore over his suit made him look like a site crew worker, but he was probably just an area official. I detected a hint of panic behind his smile as he stared into our faces warily. But something in his expression was also cold and pushy, as if he was trying to figure out how best to get us to keep our mouths shut.
“You don’t need to worry. We’ve dealt with stuff like this before,” I reassured him.
I must have taken the man by surprise, because the forced smile slipped from his face.
“Dealt with stuff like…ears and eyes falling from the sky?”
“No, not exactly. But we’re used to the kind of situations that are—what did you say?—difficult to explain to outsiders. That’s why we’re here to investigate.”
The man was clearly relieved. A feeling of complicity passed between us. Miyaki whispered into my ear.
“Katagishi, phrasing.”
“What should I have told him? That we just came from another village where every year, at the end of Obon, the well water transforms into amniotic fluid?” I responded to her in a low voice.
Miyaki jabbed me lightly in the side with her pointy elbow.
I got into the passenger seat of the man’s compact car, while Miyaki slid into the back seat. We were apparently on our way to stow the strange fallen object somewhere. As I watched silver plumes of pampas grass whip past the car window, I could see the face of the truck driver behind us in the sideview mirror. The giant ear had been loaded into the bed of his truck. I tore my gaze free, trying to find something to talk about.
“From what the villagers told me, all the parts that fall are brought to the shrine as dedications. Is that still true?” I asked.
“The shrine ran out of room a while ago, so now we just store them in the abandoned elementary school. It’s like a warehouse. Each piece is pretty big, after all. Plus, we can lock the classrooms afterward, and the curtains keep anyone from peeking inside. It does the job for now, I suppose.”
The man took one hand off the wheel and rubbed his greasy cheek.
In the rearview mirror, I could see Miyaki in the back seat furiously scribbling down notes in her notepad. The dry air from the car’s heater was robbing me of moisture, so I cracked the window slightly without asking for permission. A cool stream of fresh air blew in, along with the charred smell of rice straw being burned out in the fields.
As the tires bobbed along the uneven road, causing the vehicle to jostle up and down, I spotted several pieces of stone—just like the one I had discovered by the side of the road in front of the gasoline stand—gathered together in one spot. The stones were caked in mud, making it impossible to discern any of the characters inscribed on their surface, though these stones were a little larger than the one I had encountered earlier. In addition to the carved arms and legs, I could also make out lines suggesting the shape of a face on what looked like their rounded heads.
“What are those stone pieces? I saw one a little earlier as well.”
“Oh, those.”
The man pressed hard on the gas, and the car’s tires threw mud from deep ruts in the road as the vehicle picked up speed again.
“They’re like our village’s guardian kami, I guess you could say, or dousoji, gods of roads and travelers. They were erected all around the village a long time ago along the sides of the road as a way to show that whatever happens, good or bad, the gods are always watching.”
“But they’ve all been broken now, right?” Miyaki asked, poking her nose in from the back seat.
“Yes, they are… This area was being developed a long time ago, and the town had to build a bunch of roads for the trucks or whatever that were supposed to come through the tunnel up through the mountain. Awful as it sounds, the more roads that were built, the more grant money there was to be had, so the village decided to move the statues out of the way for a little while. No one was heartless about it, mind you. A priest came and purified everything, good and proper, before the statues were moved.”
“We’re here.”
The man turned on his blinker and brought the car to a stop beside the school gates. The abandoned school building towered against the blue sky. We followed the man out of the car. Shivering in the chilly air, I glanced up at the sky. The school was visible through the links of the rusty exterior fence, its stopped clock and forlorn basketball hoops remaining just as they had once been.
The man removed the double-looped chain and padlock, then opened the gate. The long bed truck that had followed behind us pulled into the school grounds, kicking up dust as it passed us.
In the early afternoon light, the abandoned school building was streaked with rain marks and covered in ivy. The air-conditioning condenser units and the flowerpots sitting atop them were so decayed, they looked as if they might crumble with the poke of a finger.
“What do you think?” I asked Miyaki, keeping my voice low so that the man walking ahead of us wouldn’t hear.
“I think it’s probably not great that those stone statues around the village have all been destroyed.”
“You can say that again.”
The man stopped in front of a sepia-tinged sliding glass door that was coated with dust. As he opened the door leading into the school, the musky air inside wafted out and hit us like a punch to the face.
“We’ll take it from here, if you don’t mind. You two Tokyo folks can look around inside while you wait…,” the man said after showing us in. He bowed several times at the waist before departing. We heard him flick a switch somewhere. The entrance hall of the otherwise-gloomy school was suddenly bathed in light.
“Might as well check it out,” I said, removing my penlight from my breast pocket as we proceeded down the hallway.