Aoyama felt like Miki was suddenly speaking a different language. He asked the boy to explain some of those terms.
“An I-line dress is shaped like a letter I—very sleek, very straight. On men, it tends to make their shoulders and chest look too big. It makes their masculinity more obvious. That’s the kind of information you can find online really easily, so this guy can’t have done his homework. But it would’ve been okay if that was all this was. It’s hard to explain, but…it was like something was making him think he was a woman.”
“You sure it wasn’t some kind of fetish thing?”
Miki shook his head.
“No. I mean, I did wonder, and I already had my finger on my personal alarm. But I couldn’t move. I was too scared.”
The boy began to shrink into himself.
“There was this…grinding sound. And something was standing behind the man. Something bad. I couldn’t run. All I could do was back away into the shadow of a building.”
Still stumbling over his words sometimes, Miki recounted the full story he’d heard from the stranger. A story full of pain and sorrow.
“The reason I made up the Haruko story and spread it around wasn’t just because I was frightened of her.”
He turned and looked into Aoyama’s eyes.
“I felt sorry for that guy, too.”
“Felt…sorry for him?”
Miki hugged his knees, huddling in even further.
“He said a lot of nasty things to me, but the whole time he was doing it, he looked so sad, like he was about to cry. I think… I think he’s never really known what it’s like to be happy. He’s been possessed by Haruko this whole time, and…I think that must have been really hard on him.”
Aoyama couldn’t help himself. He reached over and gave Miki a big hug.
“You’re a very kind boy.”
“Knock it off, mister. I’m not that nice. Besides, you’re gonna give me the wrong idea.”
Aoyama released the boy, who smiled back at him, showing shining white teeth. Miki stood up, dusting the sand off his bottom from where he’d been sitting so long. Aoyama also got to his feet (though he had to crouch inside the dome) and climbed into the open. Outside, the weather was clear. The sun had begun to set, and the sky was painted in blue-and-yellow hues as night bled into day.
“Hey, mister?” Miki said, stretching out. “I probably don’t have any right to ask this, but… Do something for him, will you?”
“Of course.”
He had no grounds for believing it, but Aoyama felt that Rumi would be able to handle it. And he’d help her to achieve that end in any way he could. Miki’s story had jogged something loose in his mind. The ballerina Haruko Kadowaki. This was the first time he’d heard her name, but he did in fact know of her. It was a long time ago now, back when his grandfather was still alive and running the church. He’d made an announcement during services one day.
“One of our sisters has departed for heaven.”
“Does that mean somebody died?” Aoyama had asked his mother.
“Yes. She had a son about your age, Kouki.”
His grandfather had bid them to pray, and Aoyama had dutifully put his hands together. A boy his own age had just lost his mother. He tried to think about how scary that must be and what he would do if his mother was suddenly taken from him.
They’d been talking about Haruko Kadowaki. Her son had to be the one who’d come across Miki and forced him to spread the rumors. Unfortunately, since her son and Aoyama had been in different school years, he didn’t remember much about him. On his way back to the Sasaki Agency office, he called his father.
“Hello, Dad?”
At this time of day, his father probably didn’t have a lot of pressing jobs.
“Sorry to bother you, but can you look into our register of congregants? Didn’t a lady called Haruko Kadowaki go to our church at one time? She passed away back when I was in elementary school.”
His father was surprised but agreed to help.
“It’s been a while since I’ve heard that name. You might not know this, but she was quite the celebrity back then. It’s a pity she died so young… Why the sudden interest in her?”
“I already knew she’d passed away… I’m sorry, it’s for a job with the agency. I need some information about her.”
His father had never been too happy about Aoyama working with Rumi. No doubt he’d have preferred his son concentrate on taking over the family business. But he also seemed to think that young people who had jobs that didn’t require formal study or training were really only doing it for fun. Aoyama’s grandfather had held a similar attitude. The phone speaker was silent for a while.
“Please, Dad. I promise I’m not going to use it for anything weird. Haruko Kadowaki had a son, right? Can you tell me his name? I think he might be involved in the case I’m working.”
His father sighed before replying:
“All right. But you’d better give me a proper explanation for all this once this is over. I’ll go look it up now and text you back.”
“Thank you. And I will explain everything, I promise.”
His father’s text arrived right as he was reaching the office.
Haruko Sayama—b. 05/10/1972
Yuuki Sayama—b. 11/15/1997
Fifteen years ago, Haruko and her son had lived on the third floor of the Aoba Grande, an apartment building a short walk from the church. Sayama must have been Haruko’s married name. Yuuki. Mommy’s Little Yuki. The names were so similar. This had to be it.
Maybe, for once, Aoyama was going to be useful after all. It was a good feeling. Usually, all he did was serve drinks to their clients and make sure Rumi took care of herself, neither of which were particularly relevant to the job. Rumi handled all the supernatural research and fieldwork herself. She always said Aoyama was a great help to her, but he wasn’t so sure.
He thought again about what Mononobe had said. “That woman is deceiving you.” He had a feeling this was what the young shaman meant. Rumi probably only kept a useless assistant like him around out of pity. She was a strange person but also a good person. She didn’t have it in her to neglect or reject someone who trailed after her like a puppy. Anything nice she said about him was likely a lie to make him feel better.
Just because Rumi thought of him as useless, that didn’t mean he was going to give up. He simply had to become useful and make her change her mind about him. Even if her kind words were lies, even if the tasks she gave him were only busywork, he wouldn’t let it get him down. There was no deep reason for this. Ever since Rumi had saved his life, Aoyama had wanted to be by her side, always. That was enough.