Once I was on the other side of the locked iron door, I stayed very still and listened. I heard a flurry of heavy footfalls, and for a time, my pursuers seemed to mill about, inspecting the dead end. Finally, they departed.
Endou, my unexpected savior, began quietly walking away. He flicked his chin, signaling me to follow. The iron door had led to a quaint garden, property of a home that had probably stood in the area for generations. Through the center wound a stone path with thick shrubbery on both sides. Lights were spaced throughout the garden, their orange glow leaking through the clumps of trees. Large ceramic pots lined the path at regular intervals, each bearing an identical pattern of umber stripes and filled to the brim with water. I was still clutching the satsuma rind and the desiccated hunk of dog feces; as we passed one pot, I furtively dumped them in the water and washed my hands.
“Hurry up,” Endou whispered in exasperation.
I scowled. My gratitude for his valiant rescue had already evaporated.
We reached the other side of the estate and passed through a wooden door, emerging just to the rear of Endou’s apartment building.
He ascended his building’s external metal stairway with loud, rhythmic clangs. The idea of obediently following Endou irked me greatly. For a moment, I considered turning up my nose and heading home on the spot. Still, if he was inviting me into his apartment, it likely meant he desired to speak with me man-to-man. Declining was tantamount to fleeing from a duel like a coward, a prospect that irked me even more.
He slid his key into the lock and opened the door, again urging me forward with a flick of his chin. I reluctantly ascended the steps and entered his abode.
Endou’s main room was a stately six mats in size, with a separate kitchen and a private bathroom. A large bookcase dominated one wall of the main room; on it were all sorts of texts and reference materials regarding filmmaking, along with numerous ponderous treatises on philosophy, thick tomes full of legal precedents, and various prep materials for the bar exam. Another wall displayed a Czechoslovakian movie poster. Next to the poster was a large corkboard to which Endou had tacked scribbled ideas for scenes and stylish photographs clipped from magazines in tasteful disarray. Heaps of unusual equipment rested on the floor against the remaining two walls. I didn’t recognize any of it and so assumed it was related to filmmaking.
The whole place had an inscrutable, irritating quality about it that befitted a man like Endou.
I wandered to the center of the living room and plopped myself down on the laminate wood flooring. Over in the kitchen, Endou was busy folding a coffee filter with precise, practiced movements. While he waited for the coffee to brew, he leaned against the sink and vacantly looked down to one side. He carried himself with a degree of ease I hadn’t seen before, as if he was emboldened here in the familiar environs of his fortress. It even lent his ratty goatee an air of refinement, which I found very odd.
At long last, the coffee was ready. He carried it over and sat down as well. He remained silent. I wasn’t about to lose this psychological game of chicken, so I didn’t speak, either. I did, however, pick up the cup of coffee he had set on the floor for me. I tried a sip and found it to be extremely palatable. This only heightened my irritation, and I began to take great, frustrated gulps.
The faux wood flooring had my buttocks growing colder by the minute. I began to worry that if I stayed too long, my hemorrhoids might flare up again. It was a pertinent concern, as just the previous month, I’d been completely incapacitated by the perfidious piles for the second time in my college career.
At the same time, I knew that if I allowed Endou to seize the conversational initiative because I’d capitulated to some trivial concern like rectal wellness, I’d shame not only myself but all my forebears. I wouldn’t be able to look my ancestors in the eyes when I eventually made my way to the other realm. So with a great surge of determination, I dragged my attention up from my lower half and glared directly into Endou’s face.
Come to think of it, there really was no reason for me to display diffidence or feel beholden. I hadn’t asked for his help. Everyone knows that charity exercised solely for the purpose of securing another’s gratitude is no charity at all. If Endou intended to suggest that I now owed him a favor in return for my rescue, I had an earful for him about the measure of true valor.
Frankly, I hadn’t the slightest intention to thank him. I would keep my defenses tight. So long as I allowed Endou no opportunity to worm his way in, my superior standing would remain secure.
I continued to drink my coffee in silence. Endou rose to his feet and began to pull equipment out from one of the room’s piles, which he then deftly assembled. Finally, he flicked the switch to extinguish the apartment’s lights. I braced myself, anticipating a cowardly assault under the cover of darkness. Instead, one wall of the apartment was bathed in sudden light, and I heard the whir of an antiquated projector stirring to life. A grainy film began to play on the wall’s white surface.
✦ ✦ ✦
The film appeared to show the inside of a train car. Sunlight flooded in through the windows, giving the scene a hazy, dreamlike quality. The hand straps on the car’s ceiling gently waved from side to side with the motion of the train. Beyond them, one could see into the next car, to where a girl was sitting.
It was Mizuo, all on her own, gaze fixed on the outside world.
The scene ended there, and a new one began. Now we saw a tiny, unattended train station surrounded by a thicket of trees. The camera passed through the trees and emerged into a vast meadow. Far in the distance, Mizuo crossed the grass with ever so light footfalls. She almost seemed to float over the ground. Beyond her tiny figure loomed a great structure that pierced the sky itself.
It was the Tower of the Sun.
✦ ✦ ✦
The film ended; the screen returned to white. The two of us sat in silence for some time, Endou with his head hanging, apparently flummoxed. I sensed he was toying with a question in his mind, like a nettlesome puzzle ring that just won’t come undone. I felt a stirring of sympathy at this pitiful sight. The feeling grew until presently a geyser of mercy threatened to erupt in the pit of my heart. I quickly slammed a lid over it.
Why, I reflected bitterly, am I so prone to getting swept up by emotion these days?
Shikama’s recent admonishment echoed in my mind. Eventually, you’ll be able to strike down your irrational emotions and maintain perfect control, just as I can.
Whatever Endou’s question was, I firmly resolved not to provide an answer. I wouldn’t give him any helpful information whatsoever.
“How did you shoot that?” I demanded. “And when?”
He ignored my inquiries, instead slowly issuing one of his own. “I need to know something. What’s the connection between the tower and her?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because you’re pretty much the only lead I have.”
“Ask Mizuo.”
“Our relationship is…complicated.” He gave a wry smile and sipped at his coffee. “But there’s some deep link between the Tower of the Sun and her, isn’t there?”
“A link? Whatever are you talking about?”
“Something big. Something important. Like a thread of fate.”
“Oh, please. Spare me your nonsense.”
He glared at me. “So you’re not gonna share what you know, huh?”
“I’m only asking you to speak in rational, logical terms.”
“Fine. Would you please tell me why she’s so fixated on the tower?”
“I haven’t the foggiest. Again, if you’d like an answer, I suggest you take the matter up with her.”
He sighed and dropped his head in apparent defeat, staring at the dark contents of his cup. I pulled out a cigarette.
“Please don’t smoke in here.”
The projector continued to cast its eerie glow upon us. I considered the situation I was in calmly and objectively—and found it unbearably odd that the two of us should be sitting here across from each other in silence.
In a soft voice, Endou admitted, “I guess it is pretty weird for me to be asking for your help.”
“Yes. Quite.”