The Drowning God (20 page)

 

CHAPTER 39

E
ndo, the Zenkoku corporate lawyer, stood between Takuda and his family tomb. He was larger and squarer than Takuda remembered, and his suit was even finer. Even in this twilight under the trees, it shone as sleek and iridescent as a crow's feathers.

“An immaculate tomb, standing in the place of honor,” Endo said. “The contrast of the polished black granite and the gold leaf is very striking.”

“You might have an abstract appreciation of Buddhist tombs, but you are clearly not familiar with the rites,” Takuda said. “You're burning the wrong kind of incense. You might as well burn a mosquito coil for my family.”

Endo smiled and bowed. “I beg your pardon. I wanted a word with you, Detective, and I simply wanted to show my respects in the meantime.”

“I'm not a detective anymore.”

“We shall have to come up with a title for you.” He produced a thick envelope from inside his jacket. “Please accept this as an initial token of our appreciation.”

The whole right side of Takuda's body tensed to strike the envelope from Endo's hands, but he didn't move. Endo was in a perfectly polite pose, offering the envelope with just the right angle of bow, arms outstretched just so.

Takuda returned the bow. “I must decline, but I would like to know what this payment is for.”

“This is a nontaxable reparation for moving your family tomb to a similar plot on the grounds of Shofuku Temple, a very tranquil spot on your wife's way home from work. This reparation is separate from all other expenses, of course. It's all taken care of.”

“We refuse.”

“Acceptance is irrelevant. The trucks are on their way. You would need an injunction to stop the move. You see, you're the last living relative of any family represented here.”

Takuda looked around. The plot was only large enough for a dozen houses, even if anyone wanted to build in the Naga River valley. “Why do you want the cemetery? Why does Zenkoku care?”

“Thanks to you, Zenkoku is free to diversify its interests in this little valley. We'll rebuild the Shrine of the Returning Apprentice right here. Call it a thank-­you gift.”

“Are you closing the plant?”

“Closing? Of course not. The ­people of the Naga River valley have been very cooperative for generations. No, Zenkoku General can make itself quite at home here. Of course, we need to upgrade and expand operations in this valley. Initially, we will scale back to monitoring and mothballing the current plant, but even that will require staffing increases.”

“Mothballing is a good idea. You kept losing employees down in that holding tank.”

“No one is reported missing.”

“How did you cover that up? Transfers? Relocations in the middle of the night?”

“Any discussion of personnel allocations would require a formal query to Human Resources. Human Resources in the Tokyo office, actually. Special Requests Section. I believe there's an array of specialized request forms from which petitioners may choose. In person. Good luck with all that.”

“Chief Nakamura doesn't know you're expanding operations in the valley, does he?”

“I cannot speculate as to what Chief Nakamura knows. He seems preoccupied with keeping his job after the escape of the suspected pedophile and kidnapper Ogawa though everyone else seems to have forgotten it.”

“Ah. How is Ogawa, anyway?”

“I wouldn't know. I suppose he's trying to find his wife. She seems to have eluded him altogether. Once that romantic entanglement is resolved, I hope he comes back to me. He is a very resilient and resourceful man, a highly integrated individual.”

“You knew all along that he was feeding the Kappa. How did you make that happen?”

“Make that happen? It would be difficult to overstate his enthusiasm for the project.”

Takuda nodded. “But your enthusiasm waned.”

“The creature was of very limited usefulness. It couldn't even tell us how to find its mother.”

“You had Ogawa fired so the Kappa would have to hunt outside the plant. So Ogawa would be caught. So someone would come to eliminate the Kappa.”

Endo beamed. “We are grateful beyond words that you answered the call of duty.”

“You couldn't do it yourself.”

“There are certain rules that must be observed.” Endo laid the envelope on the base of Takuda's family tomb. When Takuda lunged forward and slapped it onto the ground, Endo didn't flinch or waver. He retrieved the envelope and bowed so low that Takuda had to step back.

“Again, acceptance is irrelevant. That sum will find its way into your hands. That sum and much more. By the way, this was in the depths of the plant,” Endo said. He held out a plastic bag.

Takuda stepped back from the plastic bag, from the greenish disc within, from the fingers that encircled it. He was suddenly unwilling to touch the counselor, or to allow the counselor to touch him.

Two figures blocked the small spot of sunlight at the cemetery entrance. Mori and Suzuki stepped into the cemetery and started down the path. When they saw Takuda, they paused for a step. When Mori spotted Endo, he began to run. Even Suzuki's long legs didn't let him catch up.

“Here they come,” Endo said. “You know they'll only hurt themselves, don't you?”

“You make your own choices. You can choose to leave them alone.”

Endo smiled. He turned his back on Mori and Suzuki as they ran up. “So nice to see all three of you together again.”

Mori looked from Takuda to Endo. “Is there a problem here?” He flashed a look of anger when Suzuki grasped his forearm and pulled him farther from Endo.

“No need to pull the man's arm off, Reverend Suzuki.” Endo had been looking the other way. He stepped away from the tomb, and they fanned out to form a triangle around him. He tossed the plastic bag at Takuda's feet. “Really, no reason to be afraid. I'm just a lawyer with a souvenir of your adventures. Isn't that right, Reverend Suzuki?”

“I thought you were a land speculator.”

Endo smiled as if to himself. “I'm honored to represent the Zenkoku group in the purchase of your debts from the bank and the revocation of your heretical sect's lease on Zenkoku Development property. It will make a fine management retreat. Scenic reservoir location, plenty of floor space. Perhaps I will dedicate it to my mother.”

“You don't have a mother,” Suzuki said. “What are you?”

“I would ask in return what you are.” He turned to include Takuda. “What are any of you?”

They looked at each other. Endo laughed. “Whatever you are, we will all meet again when your ser­vices are needed.”

Mori fell back to stand beside Suzuki as Endo walked toward the entrance.

“We might see you sooner than that,” Suzuki said.

Endo cocked his head at Suzuki.

“There's not a sword for you, is there? What's the object for you? A sutra to nail to your forehead? A clay jar to bury you in? An iron pot to boil you in? What sort of object will we need for you?”

Endo said quietly, “The object for me right now is a big, shiny automobile, and it's going take me away from this stinking little valley. If you're such an expert on objects, explain that.” He nodded toward the plastic bag in the dirt. “Explain that to these other two, if you can. I'll find you when I need you.” He sauntered out of the cemetery, apparently enjoying the spring air.

They crowded around the plastic bag lying in the cedar needles. Within the bag lay an oval hilt guard from a Japanese sword. It was bright green with corrosion.

“That's your hilt guard,” Mori said to Takuda. “Why is it green?”

“Chloramine and something else,” Suzuki said. He knelt beside the bag. “Something ate away the lacquer that covered up the design. Look.”

The hilt guard was cast with an intricate pattern of overlapping concentric rings, like ripples in still water. “That was the water sword, the one made for the water monster. The Drowning God.” Suzuki handed the plastic bag to Takuda. “The designs on the other swords are probably different, but the lacquer is so thick I never noticed.”

Takuda slipped the guard out of the plastic and laid it carefully on the base of his family tomb. Mori and Suzuki paid their respects at the tomb. Takuda was afraid Suzuki would turn it into a big production, but he just recited a single section of the sutra, as he did at the ruined Gotoh tomb.

“We're done here,” Takuda said. He let out a sigh, breathing easily for the first time in what felt like years.

As if they had been waiting for the sigh, an earthmover crashed through the bamboo and cedar near the entrance of the cemetery. A pickup truck squeezed between the entrance pillars, a small phalanx of workmen walking in its wake.

“What are they doing?” Mori said.

“They're going to move my family tomb down to the city,” Takuda answered. “I won't stop them.”

“Well, then, we really are done here,” said Suzuki. He strode down the gravel path toward the workers. He called over his shoulder, “Let's get my things and load up your car. I think I'll have to sit sideways all the way. It's not really built for my height.”

“Let's get some noodles before we start,” Takuda said, as he and Mori started after Suzuki. “We don't want to be trapped in your car with the hungry priest.”

Mori forgot himself and grinned a broad, boyish, grin. He, Takuda, and Suzuki made their way out of the cemetery. They left the village and the valley for the very last time.

 

CHAPTER 40

H
anako Kawaguchi stepped out of dark water. She hadn't been anywhere near the canal since the rotten-­fish man had tried to take her, but the water had compelled her to enter. She climbed up the bank toward the fence. Beside the fence was a claw hammer. She could use it to tear down the fence so she could get to the shopping street. When she picked it up, though, it would not keep its shape. It was not a hammer at all. It was something like an eel pretending to be a hammer. She hated eels. She dropped it.

At the fence stood a man who was not a man. He was made of eels squirming all over each other in the shape of a man. His shiny black suit held him together. He lifted the chain link easily, like a volleyball net, and she stepped through. She walked quickly because he wanted her to hurry. She didn't look back at him. He wanted her to pretend he was really a man, and that's what she would tell everyone on the shopping street.

The fingers that touched the eel-­hammer were eels now, even though they didn't look like eels. The eel-­man wanted that hand for himself, and now it was his, but if she was a good girl and let that eel-­hand do what he wanted, he would leave the rest of her alone.

Secretly, she was going to go home and tell her mother about the eel-­man. Maybe her mother could change the hand back.

When she got to the shopping street, there was no one. The buildings were all flat and gray like cardboard. When she turned to go home, the eel-­man was in front of her. He pointed to her hand, and it shot up to her mouth. The eel-­fingers were swimming into her nose and up into her head, and she couldn't breathe. She gagged on the eels, and then there were more, and then some turned around to come out her ears and eyes . . .

Hanako woke choking and coughing, and her dream of the canal and the abandoned shopping street faded in her own little room. She had the special room, the little four-­and-­a-­half-­mat room, and it was very, very cute. Even waking from a nightmare to a nasty coughing fit was okay in her cute room.

She heard her parents' door slide open.

“Mama?”

Her mother knelt by her side. “It's late, little one. Do you need more special tea?”

Hanako shook her head. The medicine was worse than the cold.

Her mother sat cross-­legged, like a man. “Well, come here, then. Sit with me.”

She crawled up into her mother's lap.

“Hanako,” her mother said, “why did you go into the canal? What were you thinking of? Everyone knows the canals are dangerous.”

“Everyone knows they aren't so dangerous anymore,” Hanako said, but she admitted, “I really don't know why I went in. I don't remember anything about it. It's like a dream. I just dreamed I went in again . . .”

“A fever dream,” her mother said. She felt Hanako's forehead. “At least you're not as hot. You were burning up this afternoon! I hope that teaches you about going into freezing water like that.”

Hanako was tired of being scolded about going into the water. She tried to change the subject. “Who was here earlier, Mama? I heard voices.”

“It was a man from Papa's work,” her mother said. “He came here to give us some good news. We're leaving this valley.”

“Are we going back to the beach house? Will we live close to Grandma again?”

“No, it's not near anyone we know. We're moving away into another company house . . .”

“I liked the beach house!”

“ . . . and you'll go to a very special school with very special teachers. The man from the company said you will have wonderful work someday, too.”

Hanako looked at her hand. It was not squirming. It was a normal hand.

Her mother drew her close. She hugged her mother's neck, but over her mother's shoulder, she watched her own hand very carefully.

“I know you want to go back to the beach house, but we'll be even happier in our new house. It won't be in the mountain shadow, and it will be nice and dry and sunny. It will all be okay. Yes, it will.”

Hanako's forefinger twitched, all on its own, then stayed raised a little, separate from the rest.
Yes, it will.

“Don't you believe me, Hanako?”

The finger waited.

“Yes, I do,” she said. She decided not to tell her mother about the eel-­man in her dream. Ever. “I do believe you.”

The finger relaxed.
Good girl.

“Yes,” Hanako said.

She would cut the finger off, but she would have to surprise it. Not tomorrow, not the next day, but someday. Maybe when slicing pickled radishes for dinner.

“I do believe it will all be okay,” she said. “Yes, I do.”