The Gate of Sorrows

by Miyuki Miyabe

  Her strong craving led her to kill. In Kotaro’s region, a person like that was called evil.

  “It is not for me to decide what is and what is not evil,” Galla said coldly. “You chose this path, now you wear the look of guilt. If guilt is what you feel, return the eye to me. You have had your vengeance.”

  She reached out to him. The pointed tips of her fingernails closed in on his left eye.

  “You have done enough. You found your killer. The woman is avenged. You have good reason to be content.”

  Kotaro shrank back and clapped a hand over his left eye. Galla was right. He had achieved his aim. But … but … he’d only begun to explore his new abilities. He still didn’t know what he might learn from a world where words could be seen.

  He slid anxiously backward on the concrete. Galla’s long fingers stopped in midair, motionless.

  “Keiko Tashiro wasn’t the Serial Amputator. She was using his crimes for her own purpose. When I came to you with my deal, I said I wanted you to harvest the real killer’s craving. Keiko was a fluke.”

  The killer was still at large. He might be closing in on his next victim at this very moment.

  “We made a deal. I want to hunt down the Serial Amputator. I swear I’ll find him. If we work together, anything’s possible. Don’t you agree, Galla?”

  The warrior towered over him like a dark wall filling his field of view. Her skin was pale as starlight and seemed just as far away.

  “Galla, please. I can help you.”

  She stared down at him. “Why do you wish to help me?”

  “Because I promised to.”

  “I see.” Far above his head, Galla smiled faintly. “So your craving is to fulfill your covenant.”

  “Why not? We’re gonna catch a serial killer! That’s gotta be good.”

  “Desire is neither good nor evil. That is why questions of right and wrong are not my concern. Are you truly ready to follow me?”

  The black wings engulfed him. He plummeted into the abyss, spiraling downward on cataracts of darkness …

  The street in front of his house.

  A radio was playing somewhere near an open window. Four bell-like tones announced the arrival of midnight on this night in late May.

  Kotaro stood rooted to the spot, breathing quietly. He had a feeling he’d fall over from dizziness if he took a step forward.

  As he stood quietly, he noticed a movement in the shadow of a power pole down the other side of the street, in front of the Sonoi house. Someone was there.

  Aunt Hanako? If she was putting out the trash this early, there’d be more trouble in the neighborhood. Kotaro focused his eyes, trying to see better. Reflexively, he took a step forward.

  Whoever it was, the figure reacted instantly. It dashed out of the shadows and raced off down the street.

  It happened too fast; all Kotaro could do was watch the figure run away. Judging from the build, it was probably a young male. He looked like he had something in his hand. What was he doing when Kotaro saw him?

  Maybe it was Gaku? Gaku Shimakawa? BMOC at Aoba Middle School, until he blew his high school entrance exam. Was he trying to see Mika?

  Suddenly he remembered Yuriko Morisaki’s final words: Keep a careful eye on Mika. The trouble she’s dealing with isn’t over.

  He approached the power pole and examined it with his left eye. It was flecked with silvery grains that looked like sand. As he watched, they dissolved into the night.

  Are those traces of words?

  But Kotaro was too tired to tackle another mystery this night. He turned toward his house on unsteady feet. He was faint from hunger.

  He had to get a grip. His quest wasn’t over. He had to get strong.

  Kotaro Mishima was on the hunt for a serial killer.

  4

  Kumar returned to business as usual. Seigo came to the office every day. On the first day of normal operations after the funeral, it rained without letup—a rain of tears, someone said, but the tears for Ayuko had already dried. This was June rain, seasonal rain, nothing more. The rains of early summer had arrived.

  A week had passed since Kotaro had hunted down Ayuko’s killer. He’d held his breath, but nothing he’d read or heard during that week, at Kumar or anywhere else, suggested that anyone might have noticed her absence. Seigo seemed the same as ever. Maybe Kotaro had been expecting something big. He felt let down.

  Had the police simply overlooked Keiko Tashiro? Wouldn’t they at least be able to tell, from those silly letters she’d sent, that Ayuko’s murder was a copycat crime? If so, Kotaro had been right to deal with her himself. If he’d waited for the police to find her, he’d be feeling like a fool about now.

  His shift started at three, with a break at seven. When evening came, he decided to pick up something at a convenience store, but when he got on the elevator, a stray impulse made him touch B2.

  Kumar’s heart—the server room—was on B2. That was where the mainframe lived.

  He stepped off the elevator into a dimly lit, featureless lobby. His ID card wouldn’t even get him past the first security level, a gunmetal-gray steel door. There was a login terminal next to it; otherwise the tiny lobby was empty. The air conditioning was cranked way past comfort level, though Kotaro had heard the server room was a sauna. Kumar used a lot of computing power, and it put out a lot of heat.

  There must be hundreds of millions—no, trillions of words flowing behind that door …

  But there were no words from the Serial Amputator. Even if he hadn’t broken his silence before, it seemed strange that he would keep quiet once Keiko stole his thunder. People who commit sensational crimes crave attention. That was one of the basic rules of profiling.

  Everyone in Kumar was searching determinedly for clues. They’d already found hundreds, maybe thousands of posts that looked like potential leads, and passed them to the National Police Agency.

  But every one was a bust. “I did it.” “I know who did it.” All the intriguing posts were bogus, people looking for attention or supposed eyewitness information that turned out to be completely off target. However well-intentioned, people couldn’t help dressing up what they thought they’d seen with false details.

  It is hopeless. Galla’s silver threads flowed suddenly across Kotaro’s left field of vision. He almost cried out in surprise.

  “Give me some warning, will you? Are you watching me or something?”

  The voice of the one you seek may be hiding in this vast river of words, but so too are the voices of countless other sinners.

  Voices. Thoughts. Individual stories. Black body bags full of writhing maggots.

  Even I cannot hear a single drop in a waterfall. This hunt is futile.

  A multitude of sins. That was how much evil, or attempted evil, was flowing in that endless river. Evil as fashion statement; evil as entertainment.

  “You just need something to go on, right? Like with the woman,” Kotaro muttered. He eyed the steel door. “We could search for people with a connection to one of the victims. Look for any that seem suspicious and read their stories. Even without a confession, if we work together, we’ll know the bad guy when we find him.”

  That was Shigenori’s theory, anyway. The victims knew the killer. They had to have known him. The question was—how did he get close to four people in locations all over Japan?

  “I’ve got to do what Kenji did—get out and use some shoe leather.”

  That is the way of the hunter. Trace the spoor of your prey, however faint.

  The silver threads disappeared.

  It was time to get to work. Kotaro turned to the elevator, but before he could punch the button, it started downward from the first floor. Someone was coming. He dashed into the stairwell.

  He’d been avoiding the stairs since Ayuko died. The memory of her high heels clicking as s
he went from floor to floor was too strong. But this was no time for nostalgia.

  He was dashing up the stairs to the lobby when his smartphone chimed.

  Speak of the devil. It was Shigenori Tsuzuki.

  “Sorry to drag you out this early. But you’re a student. I guess you’ve got the time.”

  It was 9 a.m. the next day, at Kadoma Coffee Shop. A few salarymen were finishing off their breakfasts.

  “I’m busy, actually,” Kotaro said. “I ditched a class to be here. You said it was urgent.”

  “You didn’t have to play hooky.”

  Kotaro had classes all day. His shift at Kumar started at six. Shigenori had insisted on meeting early—before his next shift, if at all possible.

  “You’re looking well, detective.”

  “Yep. It’s almost like being young again. I’ve just about forgotten the bolts are there.”

  After the owner brought their iced coffees, Shigenori pulled his chair close to the table. There were open seats along the windows, but he’d chosen this spot at the rear of the shop. Something was up. Kotaro leaned forward and spoke quietly. “What’s going on?”

  Shigenori furrowed his brows slightly. “Tell me if I’ve got this wrong. Seigo Maki is Kumar’s vice president. He hired you, right? He convinced you that cyber patrolling would be perfect for you.”

  Kotaro couldn’t remember telling Shigenori about that first conversation with Seigo about his future. Maybe he’d told him in the hospital, after the operation? He’d been so depressed by the change that had come over the ex-detective that he might’ve said anything to cover his disappointment.

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “He graduated from your high school. You think of him as a mentor.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. But I guess he’s a major influence on me.”

  At that, Shigenori’s brows furrowed even more. He lifted his glass and drank a third of it off.

  “I shouldn’t tell you this,” he said in a low voice. “But you’re a good kid and pretty mature for your age. My wife likes you too. I’m going to do you a favor.”

  Kotaro could only stare, nonplussed. What’s coming?

  “Yesterday afternoon, an ex-colleague of mine dropped by. He said he was ‘in the neighborhood’ and thought he’d see how I was doing. He’s working on a case—working so hard that he hasn’t been home for days. He’s camping out at Sumida Police Station.”

  Kotaro’s eyes widened slightly. “Is this about what I think he is?”

  Shigenori nodded. “Ayuko Yamashina. They’ve made quite a bit of progress. It looks like they’re about to crack it, in fact.”

  The rest came in a rush, as if Shigenori had uncorked a bottle. “He was a new detective around the time I retired. He’s still one of the younger guys in the violent crimes unit. What he found, though, was eating at him. He knew the brass wouldn’t give him a hearing. Anyway, he got the itch to talk it over with an old fox like me, so he dropped by. It wasn’t like him. He’s not in the habit of gossiping.” He looked Kotaro in the eye. “And neither are you. Am I right?”

  “Sure, of course.”

  “Can you keep what I tell you absolutely confidential? It’s just that … I thought it might be hard on you if you got this off the web. Or TV. They’re going to have a field day.”

  “What, then? What’s going to be hard?”

  “Whoever killed the first four victims didn’t kill Yamashina. The letters were a hoax. The killer wanted to make it look like she was killed by the Serial Amputator.”

  Kotaro didn’t even try to look surprised, but Shigenori thought his lack of response was a sign of shock.

  “I’m sorry, I know this is a bolt from the blue. It must seem unbelievable.”

  What’s to believe? I already know.

  “Do they have any idea who did it?”

  Shigenori glanced away for a moment and took another gulp of coffee. Still holding the glass, he nodded once.

  “Ayuko Yamashina was killed by a friend.”

  Looks like I underestimated the cops after all.

  “Listen, Mishima … Your president’s murder was a crime of pa—” Shigenori stopped. He took a moment to reboot. “There was a romance angle to it.”

  Kotaro didn’t miss a beat. “A crime of passion? You mean like a triangle between Seigo and Ayuko and the woman who killed her?”

  Shigenori’s voice was a low growl. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  But there was no triangle. Seigo and Keiko didn’t have a romantic connection of any kind. It was all her private fantasy.

  “Information like that can really hurt the bereaved,” Shigenori said. He sounded genuinely pained, as if he were involved personally. “It will hurt Seigo Maki more than anyone, but the truth will be unbearable for a lot of other people too. You and he are good friends, and you seemed to respect Yamashina. She was beautiful and brilliant. If you had feelings for her, I’d certainly understand.”

  Did I tell him that too?

  “I knew it would be hard on you—people you respect so much being mixed up in a triangle. Yamashina lost her life because of it. That’s why—”

  He’s leaking police information to soften the blow. Well, I don’t need his help.

  Kotaro smiled. Shigenori’s face changed from awkward to suspicious.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing. I’m not laughing. I’m grateful.”

  Shigenori blinked slowly. Moment by moment, his eyes cooled.

  “Let me ask you something. You said Maki and Yamashina and the woman who killed her might’ve been involved in a triangle.”

  Kotaro nodded. Very good. You haven’t lost your edge, detective.

  “I only said there was a triangle,” Shigenori continued. “How did you guess the third person was a woman?”

  “Because I know.” Kotaro had confessed.

  It was Shigenori’s turn to lose his poker face. The needle on his surprise meter was stuck on peak.

  Kotaro went ahead and brought him up to date on everything that had happened since that night at the tea caddy building. When he finished, Shigenori was silent for nearly a minute. He’d forgotten how to blink; his eyes were fixed on Kotaro. Finally his Adam’s apple moved, once. He frowned.

  “Keiko Tashiro. Yes, that was the suspect. She’s been missing for a week. The phone company can’t trace her GPS smartphone.”

  Of course they can’t. She’s no longer in this world. She’s in Galla’s scythe. Where would that be? Another dimension, maybe. Or maybe she’s in Galla’s region …

  “She hasn’t shown up for work. Hasn’t contacted her parents. She’s dropped out of sight.”

  Just like Kenji.

  “How did they figure out it was her?” Kotaro asked.

  Shigenori finally recovered his blink reflex. He needed a moment to make sure the conversation was real. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his face.

  “Detective, what was it that made this person a suspect?”

  “What?”

  “Now I’m asking you a question. Please, try to get a grip.”

  Shigenori let his hand drop. He’d finally decided the conversation was real.

  “The night of the murder, a gas station security camera in Shibuya caught her with the victim. They were in a car. Tashiro was driving.”

  “A gas station?” Kotaro was so appalled at Keiko’s stupidity, his voice cracked. “She stopped for gas after she picked up Ayuko?”

  “No. The gas station is next to an intersection. The camera caught them waiting for the light to change.”

  “Man, I told her she was gonna get caught. Shibuya has cameras everywhere. But she didn’t get it. She actually asked me how she screwed up.”

  Shigenori shook his head slowly. Kotaro couldn’t tell what he wasn’t liking.
Maybe Keiko’s stupidity? Or maybe it was Kotaro’s tone.

  “I might’ve handled things differently if I’d known the cops were onto her. I guess it can’t be helped. In my situation, I think you would’ve lost your temper too, along with your self-control.”

  An arrogant, overbearing, self-absorbed woman wallowing in a romantic delusion. She behaved like a spoiled child.

  “Now that I think about it, I should’ve asked her how she lured Ayuko to Shibuya. But so much was happening. The timing was never right.”

  Shigenori finally stopped shaking his head and stared at him coldly.

  “Tashiro was one of the wedding planners.”

  “Then she could’ve used that. Said she wanted to talk to Ayuko about something. Ayuko had plans for the evening, but she was happy to meet up with Keiko. It was a happy subject. She was totally in the dark about Keiko’s delusion. She was defenseless. I can’t believe she asked her to help with the wedding. Ayuko was way too trusting.”

  And luck had been against her. If she had just reacted differently that night—Sorry, I’m busy, or I’m tired, let’s do it another time, or If it’s about the wedding, Sei-chan should be there—Ayuko would still be alive, still be walking the stairs between floors at Kumar, her high heels clicking on the steps. Keiko would surely have kept watching and waiting for her chance, but still … Ayuko was alone that night, with no one to see until the next morning and nothing urgent to make her turn Keiko down. It was as though the devil himself had been in the saddle.

  Kotaro felt emotions boiling up inside that he thought he’d sealed away. Memories of Ayuko gripped his heart.

  He realized suddenly that Shigenori was talking to him.

  “What?”

  The ex-detective’s eyes were nearly iced over. “No regrets, then? You don’t think what you did was a mistake?”

  “Why would I?”

  “You passed judgment on another human being. You took life and death into your hands. You carried out the sentence.”

  Kotaro shrugged. “I didn’t sentence anyone. I took revenge for Ayuko.”