The Gate of Sorrows (2 page)

Kotaro’s neighborhood was a picture-perfect housing development in the Tokyo suburbs—constructed as a unit, neat as a pin, pretty in a mathematical way, with multicolored sidewalks lined with streetlamps on either side of roads just big enough for two cars to pass, lined with tract houses that were only saved from being utterly identical because of the little vanity options the owners had chosen. Someone looking first at the developer’s plans, then the real estate company brochures, and later the finished houses with people in them, would hardly have seen a difference.

But things
were
different, under the façade. The development was just as neat, orderly, and pretty as its designers intended, in a physical sense. When you added people to the mix, things instantly get chaotic. Kotaro’s neighbor Hanako Sonoi was the embodiment of that chaos.

Not that she noticed. Aunt Hanako lived in her own dimension of time. Among other things, this meant that hanging out with her posed grave dangers to Kotaro’s schedule. Normally he would’ve begged off, but at the mention of Mika he hesitated. He put the kickstand down.

Mika Sonoi was Hanako’s granddaughter. She went to the same middle school as Kotaro’s sister, Kazumi, and was a year her junior. Both girls belonged to the soft tennis club. Kazumi was the one who had originally invited Mika to join.

The girls had known each other since kindergarten and were as close as sisters. Kotaro regarded Mika almost as his little sister.

“What’s up with Mika?”

“You’re a computer wiz, right, Kotaro?”

Aunt Hanako liked to talk, and like most people who enjoy the sound of their own voice, she didn’t get right to the point. Problem was, if you got impatient and tried to cut to the chase, it only made things worse. Kotaro had known the Sonois since before both families had moved to this cookie-cutter housing development. They went way back. Kotaro was an expert at dealing with Aunt Hanako.

“I’m no wiz. I know as much as most people.”

“But you’ve got a part-time job at a computer company. Mama said so.”

“Mama” was Kotaro’s mother, Asako. Kotaro’s father, Takayuki, was of course “Papa” to Aunt Hanako. Yet she addressed her own daughter, Mika’s mother, as Takako-
san
. She “san”-ed her own daughter. It was bizarre.

“It’s not a computer company. It’s not like I’m coding and stuff like that.”

“But ‘computer’ means ‘program,’ doesn’t it?”

“PCs won’t run without a program, but they’re not the same thing. What I’m trying to say is, I’m not working at the kind of company you think I am. So what’s going on with Mika anyway?” Kotaro knew that without regular prompting, Aunt Hanako was liable to forget what she set out to say in the first place.

Hanako’s eyes narrowed, as though what she was about to say next were dangerous information. “Someone’s been writing things about Mika in the dark.”

If Kotaro’s parents had been listening in, they probably would’ve thought Hanako was talking about graffiti someone was leaving at night.

But Kotaro was a 21st-century boy. The Internet had been part of his life since he could remember. He knew instantly what Aunt Hanako was trying to say.

“On a dark website?”

Her eyes opened wide with excitement. “Yes, that’s right. What you said.”

“Was it something mean? Aunty, did you hear this from Mika?”

“Oh no, she hasn’t said a thing to me. But the school called Takako-san yesterday afternoon. She gave me the short version after she got back. I’m not sure I understood it.”

So it had something to do with computers, and that’s why she came to me.

Kotaro stood for a moment, thinking. He’d definitely be late if he hung around much longer.

“Listen Auntie, I have to get going, but here’s some advice. I don’t think Mika will say anything to you about this, so it would be better if you play dumb.”

“But the school called Takako-san in for a conference. It sounds very serious to me.”

“Schools are scared to handle stuff by themselves these days. They call parents about every little thing, just to cover their rears. Did Mika go to school today?”

“Yes, she did.”

“Then you don’t have to worry. Maybe Kazumi knows what’s going on. I’ll ask her when I get home. Confidentially, of course.”

“Oh? But … I don’t know …”

Hanako hated loose ends. She didn’t seem keen on this course of action. Kotaro gave her his biggest smile.

“She’ll be fine, I’m telling you. Mika’s training hard. Kazumi told me she might even play in the regionals. Not many first-year players are that good.”

“Yes, she’s just like Takeshi. Sports were always his strong point.”

Takeshi was Mika’s father. He and Takako had divorced soon after Mika was born. Hanako, however, had been very partial to him and never missed a chance to bring him up.

“Well, I better get going.”

“Take care. Study hard.”

Kotaro mounted his bike and took off. Just before he reached the corner he turned to see Hanako going into the house. He wondered why she insisted on wearing heavy clogs when all she could talk about was how bad her knees were. What if she fell down, broke a bone, and ended up bedridden?

It was the 15th of December. The year was practically gone. The wind cut like a knife out of a clear blue sky. Winter was Kotaro’s favorite season. It was perfect for a bike sprint, much better than spring or autumn.

But the morning’s mood had turned a little heavy. Aunt Hanako had been wrong in thinking Kotaro worked at a computer company. But if someone was spreading rumors about Mika online, Hanako was right to bring the problem to him.

Was someone bullying Mika on a dark site?

He had to find out. Seigo would know what to do.

Kotaro was nineteen years and three months old. He was a freshman education major at a so-so university in central Tokyo.

Neither the university nor the major had been Kotaro’s choice. His school was the only one that had accepted him; he’d failed his other entrance exams. The heavy hand of fate had gone ahead and decided things for him.

He had no plans to become a teacher. Tokyo was awash with would-be teachers anyway. There were no jobs—none at all.

“Ko-chan, what are you going to do? You don’t have a chance,” Kazumi would say.

“I’ll make it somehow.”

He had more than two years before he had to start thinking seriously about where he might find a job. Now was the time for him to congratulate himself on at least getting in somewhere. Now was the time to enjoy his student life.

That’s what he’d thought, at first.

Much to his surprise, student life wasn’t much fun after all. This rude awakening took place soon after the term started. Why was everything so boring? He had to admit, he’d never thought things would be this bad. Why was school so lame?

He was surrounded by students who’d drifted into university with no goal, no purpose. People just like him. They were all having a great time. They were enjoying this one best time of their lives to the max, and they acted like their goal was to enjoy it even more, if that were possible.

Somehow Kotaro couldn’t go along. He didn’t even know what it was he was supposed to be enjoying. He’d joined a few of the clubs, but aside from their activities and names, they were mainly about parties and drinking. The “serious” clubs were so serious that Kotaro was put off. Why did everyone tell him university clubs would be fun?

Then again, who
was
“everyone,” exactly? Who had told him that being a college student was a nonstop party? Who had told him the clubs were totally cool?

For Kotaro, it was the lectures—the one thing in school that bored the kids around him to tears—that somehow seemed interesting. His general education courses were mostly tedious, but every now and then he’d stumble across something new in one of his classes, something fascinating. The clubs, with their nonstop partying and drinking, offered nothing new. The basic difference between high school and this university that fate had chosen for him was that now he could openly do things that before he’d had to do in secret.

Maybe I chose the wrong path
, he told himself.
Maybe I should’ve thought about college more carefully. Maybe I should’ve chosen my major more carefully, even if it meant taking a year or two off.

Was he having some kind of psychological letdown? No, letdowns were for people who were serious about school. He hadn’t burned with motivation while he’d been studying for exams. Making it into this school didn’t feel like an accomplishment. He was just glad he'd got in somewhere.

Kotaro’s father was a salaryman who worked in a credit union. His mother Asako was a homemaker, but she’d always had some kind of job since she married. For the last two years or so she’d been working the register at a big retailer not far from their house.

Both of his parents were model citizens. They had worked diligently to raise Kotaro and Kazumi, setting aside their own enjoyment to pay for their children’s education, which wasn’t coming cheap. Pretty much everyone would probably say that was what parents were supposed to do. But Kotaro wasn’t remotely sure he could sacrifice as much and as patiently as his parents had, were he called on to do the same. They had him beat on that one, as someone his age might say.

It would be awful enough to confess to his father and mother that it looked like he’d screwed up his choice of school and major because he hadn’t taken the whole thing very seriously, that he found nothing rewarding about student life. Maybe they’d worry about his mental stability. He knew he wasn’t going crazy, though he couldn’t put his finger on what he felt.

In fact, that was the problem. He didn’t know what he was feeling. He hadn’t felt motivated studying for his exams. He wasn’t feeling a letdown after getting admitted. It wasn’t because he was disappointed that so far he hadn’t met any guys he could really talk to, or girls who were his type. He knew something was missing in his life. He just didn’t know what.

That was then. But in the middle of summer break—his first, unbearably long college break—something happened.

He parked his bicycle at the station and sprinted up to the platform. The express had come and gone.
Better send a message to Kaname.
She’d have to wait ten minutes longer than usual for their handoff.

Kotaro mulled Aunt Hanako’s request while he waited for the next express. She had asked the right person to help her based on a misunderstanding. Explaining that would be practically impossible. The Internet jargon would sail clear through her nets.

Listen, Aunty. I’m not working for a computer company. But it has something to do with computers.

Yes. It had a lot to do with them.

See, what I’m doing is called cyber patrolling.

He had found the missing piece.

Kumar Corporation was in a compact office building not far from Ochanomizu Station. The staff lounge offered a nice view of the dome of the Holy Resurrection Cathedral.

Kotaro had first stepped through these doors in early July. The rainy season had just ended, and the sprawling used book district at Jinbocho, not far from the station, was sweltering in the muggy heat. Kotaro was hitting the bookstores when he ran straight into Seigo Maki.

Seigo was an alum of Kotaro’s high school. Like Kotaro, he’d been on the futsal club. Kotaro left the club to study for exams when he became a senior, but until then he’d seen Seigo almost every week.

Seigo was mad about futsal. Ostensibly he was donating time to coach the team, but his main motivation was the chance to play. At the time he’d been thirty. He didn’t look like much of an athlete. He was five-foot-four and pudgy, but a tenacious player and an outstanding coach.

Since they’d met in front of Sanseido Books, they decided to head upstairs to the coffee shop for a chat. As he was bringing Seigo up to speed on what he’d been doing, Kotaro made the mistake of mentioning how uninspiring school was.

Seigo wasn’t at all surprised. “I could see you were bored from a long way off. Why don’t you start a futsal club?”

“They’ve got one. Thing is, they hardly ever play. All they do is party.”

“So that happy, free, stimulating campus life doesn’t suit you, Ko-Prime?”

Back in the day, there’d been another club member named Kotaro Inoue. Seigo was the first to start calling Inoue “Ko.” Since “I” came before “M,” that made Kotaro “Ko-Prime.” Using Kotaro’s name would’ve been simpler, but for some reason the nickname stuck. It was a sign of how much the team trusted Seigo.

Kotaro hadn’t heard this nickname in a while.
High school was pretty cool after all
, he thought wistfully.

“In fact, I’m thinking about making a switch,” he told Seigo.

“You mean changing schools? Don’t do that. If you’re not going for senior civil servant or law school, you’ll face the same problem wherever you go. If you can’t stand your school, try the police academy. Or join the Self-Defense Forces.”

Kotaro’s iced coffee almost shot out his nose. “Me? A cop? Or a soldier?”

“What’s wrong with that?”