The Gate of Sorrows

by Miyuki Miyabe

  “Let’s talk face-to-face,” he’d said. “How about on campus. Will you be going there?”

  Kotaro had been surprised to find him so up for a meeting, but here they were.

  “Makeup lectures. Sounds like what they used to call staying after class, in my day. Will you have to repeat a year?”

  “No, I dodged that bullet.”

  “Excellent. Don’t forget that mom and dad are paying your tuition. Education is just about the most expensive thing around these days.”

  I didn’t come here for a sermon.

  Shigenori turned to see Kotaro making a sulky face.

  “When people say they’re thinking about washing their hands of something, they’re not looking for advice, kid. All they want is someone to tell them they’re right.” He chuckled and looked out at the quad again. “You mean cutting things off with Galla, I guess. I’m all for that. I’ve been telling you to do it this whole time. So you finally saw the light. You sure took your time about it.”

  Kotaro was still sulking. “The timing wasn’t right.”

  “What happened?”

  “I said, the timing—”

  “Out with it, kid.”

  He told Shigenori about Kenji. Soji’s words were burned into his brain, and he played them back verbatim.

  “What a tragedy,” Shigenori said softly. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to the girls anymore. “Then again, it’s not unusual for a killer to look like he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “Come on, that’s not fair to Kenji.”

  “Not talking about Kenji. I’m talking about you.” Shigenori was suddenly the interrogator again. “You didn’t pull the trigger yourself. But make no mistake—you used Galla as a weapon to take the lives of two people.”

  Don’t you get it? That’s why I want to stop.

  “The string of murders that brought us together is finished. They’ve all been solved. Tomakomai and Akita, solved for the record. Nakasono and Tashiro will be fugitives forever, as far as the police are concerned, but the excitement’s died down. And the suicide of one of Mama Masami’s customers is finally getting some attention, according to the news.

  “The only loose end is your next move. That’s what worries me. If you’ve decided to wash your hands of Galla, great. Come back to the world of ordinary people—today, if you can. And forget what happened.”

  Kotaro didn’t answer. Detective, don’t you know that pushing me to do what I’m saying I want to do is liable to make me change my mind?

  Perhaps Shigenori knew that, or perhaps he didn’t, but he said suddenly, “What do you think?”

  “Think about what?”

  “Galla. Who do you think she is? Or what?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it now.”

  Shigenori looked at him closely. “Because she can hear you? Don’t let that stop you. You shouldn’t care what she thinks.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because she’s not human. She doesn’t think or feel the way we do.”

  “How can you say that?” Kotaro said with irritation. “Okay, she doesn’t exist, but I don’t see how you can say she doesn’t feel anything.”

  “Why not?”

  “Did you forget, detective? The reason she wants to get to the Nameless Land, or whatever they call it, is to find her son and bring him back from exile for whatever it was he did. She was powering up her scythe so she could take out the Sentinel.”

  “So what? Okay, she’s a mother who loves her son. How does that make her just like us? She’s a fundamentally different creature.”

  “Why does that make it wrong to think she’s like us?”

  Shigenori seemed about to disagree, but something stopped him. The corners of his mouth turned down in a thicket of wrinkles before he said evenly, “Why does she appear to us as half human, half bird?”

  “That’s a different question. Frankly I never gave it a moment’s thought, but wouldn’t that be because she doesn’t want to scare us? Her true form is a horrible gargoyle. She actually told me we got our concept of gargoyles from the guardians of the Tower.”

  “Then why doesn’t she just appear to us as a person?”

  “Is it really important?”

  “I think it’s her way of warning us.” Shigenori looked at him intently again. “It means, ‘I’m dangerous. Don’t trust me, and don’t take me lightly.’ That’s the message she wants to send.”

  Kotaro remembered something suddenly, something Galla had said.

  You will regret this.

  She’d said it to him several times. A warning, to be sure.

  “But she’s a guardian of the Tower of Inception. According to U-ri—Yuriko Morisaki—Galla is a noble being.” To Kotaro’s mind, that meant she was close to the right and the just.

  “Yes, she guards the birthplace of the souls of words,” Shigenori said. “I’ve had some time to think about that, and the more I do, the more it bothers me.” He peered steadily at Kotaro. “Mishima, what are words?”

  Kotaro didn’t know how to answer that one. It was like one of those Zen riddles.

  “Words and language—they’re not quite the same thing,” Shigenori continued. “Language is culture. Words are not the way they’re written, either. Writing systems are tools for keeping a record of words. Words can’t be seen. They don’t have form. They’re real but they don’t exist. Stories are the same. Words are woven into stories. Words and stories—you can’t separate them. Now what do you call things like that?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer. “Concepts. Galla is a guardian of concepts. She’s a concept herself. Real, but doesn’t exist. Let me tell you something I learned when I was a cop: getting too deeply wrapped up in real but nonexistent concepts is a recipe for trouble.”

  “You mean stuff like religious cults and fundamentalism?”

  Shigenori noticed his discomfort and chuckled ruefully. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to make things difficult.” He scratched his close-cropped head. His hair was peppered with gray.

  “The point is, Galla’s form is a warning. I’m just saying we should’ve thought about that a little more carefully.”

  “But gargoyles are supposed to ward off evil. They have the power to keep evil at bay. That’s why people put them in sacred places, like churches—to make sure only just and proper deeds take place in the sacred space.”

  “That’s true. But do you know why the symbol of protection against evil is a monster? Because you need a monster to repel a monster. Evil against evil, venom against venom.”

  You’ve got huge fangs …

  “You know, the gargoyles on Romanesque and Gothic buildings were also supposed to be symbols of the decadence and decline and corruption of humanity.”

  That’s not Galla’s fault.

  “We were bewitched by a demon. A demon’s black magic is pretty dramatic. Now it’s time to wake up. The timing you were waiting for is here and now.” He grasped Kotaro by the shoulder and gave it a shake.

  “Give up the power of that left eye and get back to normal life. You’ve gotten too close to Galla. Fighting for justice against evil—you got too involved. Your intentions were good. Maybe Galla chose you because you’re young, and exactly because your intentions are good. She has something that attracts you, doesn’t she? But she’s a demon. Humans and demons shouldn’t get too close to each other.

  “Maybe I’m just being pessimistic, but still—your word body, as you call it, all the accumulated words you carry around with you, it’s a monster with fangs. Isn’t it?”

  Kotaro stared at his feet. Here in the shade of the trees, the two of them cast no shadows.

  What if he were to walk out into the sunshine and found that his shadow was different? What if he saw fangs and horns? Or a misshapen third arm? Or a tail with spikes on each vertebra?


  “I know. It’s starting to scare me.”

  It was frightening to contemplate becoming a monster. Not knowing what kind of monster was frightening too.

  “But Mika’s still in danger. I think I might need my Eye to help her. I can’t decide what to do.”

  Shigenori looked puzzled. “Mika. She’s your sister’s classmate. Did something happen?”

  Kotaro told him about the enormous spider. Shigenori shivered with fear. “I’ve always been afraid of spiders.”

  “Well, luckily nothing’s happened, but I’m worried about the future.”

  “I can’t blame you. But think about it, Mishima. Will your Eye really help you solve the problem? All it did was show you things that were revolting, things that upset you. Maybe that left eye is hindering you instead of helping you.”

  He was right. Kotaro couldn’t tell Mika what he’d seen. Naturally he couldn’t tell Kazumi. She’d never believe him. He was just spinning his wheels. He wasn’t sure he could get Mika to even tell him if there was a problem.

  “Wouldn’t it be better for you to be an ordinary person and a big brother to her, someone from the neighborhood she can consult whenever she needs to?”

  Kotaro couldn’t argue with that. Shigenori was right.

  “Okay.”

  A group of students walked past. The girls were in their summer finery, the boys in studiedly casual jeans and T-shirts. All of them were thumbing their smartphones and laughing happily. Shigenori watched them pass. “You told me university life was boring.”

  Did I actually tell him that?

  “You said everyone around you were idiots, like those guys.”

  “Hmm? I never said anything that negative.” Even Kotaro thought his words sounded like sour grapes.

  “You told me they were all leading trivial, pointless lives,” Shigenori said. “In a word, idiots. But it’s not like that, actually. If everyone here were an idiot, society wouldn’t function. If you pull the camera back on society, it looks superficial and dysfunctional. Nothing positive about it. If you get your information from TV news, or a place like Kumar, society must look like a wholesale market for poisonous seeds and fruit. But that’s an illusion, and an unfortunate one.

  “You’re not obliged to shoulder society’s problems personally. Take a good look at this campus. Right now this is part of your life. It’s not bad at all. A university is a great place. For an old, untutored man like me, just being here makes me feel smarter.”

  Kotaro wondered if Shigenori had wanted to meet here just to deliver this message. School was indeed part of his life. Shigenori was asking him to take a dispassionate look at it.

  “Give the Eye back to Galla. You don’t have to explain why. No excuses, no negotiation. Just tell her you’re through. That’s enough. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?”

  Kotaro nodded. This time he felt completely sincere. He was ready to give up his power on the spot, now. The decision had been made. He could relax.

  They parted ways. Shigenori went home and Kotaro left the campus and headed for the train station. As he waited on the platform, he saw a mother and her young daughter holding hands. They were wearing matching shorts and tank tops. They both looked so happy that Kotaro suddenly had a vision of Mana’s face.

  One thing left to do.

  He wanted to do something positive with the Eye—for once.

  The crumbling apartment near Shinjuku Station yielded no secrets. Kotaro had expected to find little, but in fact he found nothing at all in the building and the surrounding neighborhood. There were too many people living there, and too much coming and going. It was like a word stew; he couldn’t draw out anything specific connected with Mana.

  In a way, he felt relieved. He saw no evidence of monsters like Kosuke Nakasono or Keiko Tashiro. It was clear that Mana and her mother had never been in danger from anyone here.

  He called the Nagasaki mansion from the street in front of the apartment and learned that Mana was about to return from nursery school. It was quarter to four. He explored the neighborhood quickly, found a shop selling fancy cakes, and bought pudding topped with whipped cream.

  His timing was perfect. As he rounded the corner and neared the front gate, he saw Hatsuko coming from the opposite direction, holding Mana by the hand. The girl was wearing a sunflower-yellow short-sleeved one-piece, and a straw hat with a ribbon of the same color.

  “Oh, uncle!” Mana saw him first and smiled.

  How long had it been? So many things had happened. He’d seen so much ugliness. It was as though he’d absorbed a nerve poison, and before he knew it, his heart was more than half paralyzed. One smile from Mana melted his frozen heart. He ran to greet her.

  “Hello, Mana. It’s been so long! Is school fun?”

  “Mm-hmm!”

  She had begun to talk. She was still smaller than most children her age, but her cheeks were plump. She was even suntanned. Hatsuko noticed his surprise and smiled.

  “She loves to swim at the nursery school—so much, in fact, that we took her to a swimming school. The coach said she has natural talent. At the end of last month, Ms. Sato and I took her to the beach in Izu. I’m far too old for it, but I actually wore a swimsuit,” she added shyly.

  In Mana’s room, they sat at her round table eating pudding with whipped cream. Kotaro learned that she was seeing her father regularly, and they had started to communicate. But his business wasn’t thriving, and his life wasn’t stable enough to allow him to take on the job of caring for his daughter. He had neither the confidence nor the desire to be a single father. He thought it would be best to find a family who was willing to adopt her, and he’d asked the Nagasakis to help him.

  Perhaps this wasn’t ideal behavior for a father, but at least he was clear about what he could and couldn’t do. In the end, adoption would be better for Mana than for her father to try to care for her out of a sense of pride.

  “So she’ll be here from now on?” Kotaro asked.

  “We’d like that, but adoption would be difficult. My brother and I are both getting on in years. If one of us were to fall ill, it would be hard to give Mana the care she deserves. We’re working with Mr. Ohba from House of Light and the Children’s Welfare Department to find the right couple to take care of her,” Hatsuko said. “Of course, we’ll always be ready to help her. We don’t plan to change her situation right away in any case. Even if we find a good family, we’ll go slowly so she has time to get to know them. She’s finally settled in and used to living here. We can’t make any major changes too soon. She’ll be starting elementary school from here.”

  “That’s next spring,” Kotaro said.

  “The days pass so fast. If you have time, please come see the matriculation ceremony.”

  Mana looked up at Kotaro and gave him a whipped-cream smile. “I’m go to school.”

  “So I hear. You’ll be a student just like me, this coming spring.” He returned the smile. It felt like his first heartfelt smile in a long time.

  “Mr. Mishima …” Hatsuko looked slightly uneasy and lowered her voice. “I think we last saw you last in March, wasn’t it? Have you been ill? You seem very thin. Maybe gaunt would be a better word. Your cheeks are hollow.”

  Kotaro anxiously rubbed his cheeks. “I’ve been too wrapped up in my job. I had to take a makeup class over the break to keep from repeating a year. My parents almost killed me.”

  “Oh, my. That must’ve been hard on you.”

  “It was, but it’s over now.”

  “My brother is at a meeting over at House of Light. He’ll be back by dinnertime with Mr. Ohba. Won’t you stay for dinner with us?” Hatsuko asked.

  Kotaro had a night shift at Kumar from ten to six. With people quitting left and right, Seigo was shorthanded.

  “Thanks for the invitation, but—”

  “
Now please, don’t be shy. We’d love to have you. My brother would be delighted too.”

  She left to go shopping, leaving Kotaro with Mana. “Let’s draw!” Mana said, pulling out her sketchbook and crayons.

  This was the moment Kotaro had been waiting for. He’d been making such an effort to resist the urge to close his right eye that he’d wondered if he might not have looked strange. He had to find out whether any of her mother’s words—the thoughts of a mother who’d had to leave her child behind—were still here.

  The Eye will tell.

  He was sure that he’d see something bright and beautiful. Takako Sonoi, with her beautiful wings, had shown him what was possible.

  I need to use this Eye for good, too.

  The power Galla had given him was not only for hunting evil. It could recognize good in the world. He wanted to experience that before he gave it up.

  “Look, uncle. I drawed them.”

  Mana turned the pages of the sketchbook. There were fields of sunflowers. A white beach with the ocean beyond. Memories of a happy summer.

  “Very pretty. Mana, I think your pictures are even better than before.”

  He calmed his breathing, closed his eyes, and opened his left eye slowly.

  He half-expected to see sparkling lights, or maybe a glowing, lacy pattern. Mana’s mother was never here. If any of her words remained, they would be clinging to her daughter. By now they might be faded and indistinct.

  But he was completely wrong.

  Mana was already drawing—a big orange sun. She gripped the crayon and didn’t notice as Kotaro gasped and flinched with surprise at the vision floating inches from his face.

  A ring of light with the hue of a buttercup gleamed faintly behind Mana’s head. It pulsed softly, a rhythm of respiration. The light deepened in color, then faded, over and over again, rippling as though waves were passing through it. It seemed to be hovering behind Mana and protecting her.

  It’s her mother.

  The residue of a mother’s love for her child, a legacy of accumulated words. Morning and night, it never slept. It was with her child on cold rainy mornings and during autumn sunsets when she felt her mother’s absence most keenly.